Will Graham's lack of movement provided such a stark contrast to his usual feverish passion, and yet in such a stalled position he continued to emit an exhausted and depleted aura that sickened Alana Bloom to look at. Her ears pined for the sirens; her eyes strained for flashing lights. The irony hit her that the only thing to bring her peace would be something to take Will away, when all she wanted to do was hold him close. Practically, she would be able to once they did take him, and that's what she was. Practical.

Claws scraped at the wooden door from outside, startling Alana from her thoughts and struggling to stand. A low whine seeped through the door; a nose pressed to the crack in the door, sniffing for any reassurance that his master was well. Careful to keep her eyes locked on Will, Alana leaned and reached for the handle. With a flick of her wrist, six dogs scrambled inside, tails swinging slowly and drooping to discover Graham on the floor. After assuring the storm of running canines had quieted, and softly latching the door shut, Alana returned to his side, sitting with her legs folded to her side, right hand bracing her shuddering body and left hand placed on Will's own.

Winston settled by Will's matted head of hair and licked his nose, hoping to elicit a response, or at least to show concern. A knot formed in Alana's throat, eyes stinging with sadness and then, as if a switch had flipped, the sting turned to an angry fire of realization. Hannibal told me he was fine. I trusted Hannibal. Will trusted Hannibal. He's fragile and not even the person assigned to pick up his pieces will keep the remaining ones together. How dare he… how…

Tears streamed down her face in a silent sob, mouth gaped but no sound escaping. Alana was so purely shocked and betrayed that no scream could wrack her lungs. No blubbering hysterics could save Will. There was something medically wrong with him, and if Dr. Lecter wasn't going to take him away to fix it, she sure as hell was.

Following Winston's lead, the remaining dogs settled down, whimpering, around Will Graham. They formed a circle, not only protecting him, but offering company to Alana, who was struggling to stay strong. In this she suddenly understood his desire to take in strays.

At length her aural dream faded into reality, sirens reeling around the corner, making far more noise than her hybrid as it spewed gravel around its wheels, creating slight chaos in the eerie silence. Alana felt a sickening mixture of relief and worry darken her emotions, but her professionalism at last took control and she left the ring of dogs, ran to the door to provide passage to the paramedics, and stepped aside, just behind the arch of the door. A hand covered her mouth, attempting to breathe deeply in a swarm of panic and yet appear stoic. The dogs whimpering expressed her inner tumult, almost to the point where it could substitute it, offering a channel for her distress.

Officers and flashing lights of all sorts streamed through the front door, flushing the dogs, Alana, and her countenance out of the way. Seeing Will loaded onto a stretcher, the dogs barking loudly around her, and the cacophony of sound, shouting, sirens, everything that invaded her ears broke her false composure and she fell into anxious and angry sobs. Will's head rolled to the side, curls falling over like dead leaves at the eve of winter. This job had aged him faster than she could ever have imagined; him being put out there had destroyed his mind and body. But there was more to it. Hannibal knew there was more to it, but he lied. He lied to Will, he lied to Alana, he lied to the entire FBI. Will Graham was not okay.

xx

She had fallen asleep waiting outside the door for him to come to, and once they allowed her into the room, the sound provided a disquieting contrast to the earlier sirens. This time they were soft, fleeting, and slow. Small beeps and whirs as the IV adjusted and the various monitors beeped. Raspy, shallow breaths seeped through Will's mouth, but it was comforting to see him moving around. The doctor pulled Alana aside, nurse still tending to Will.

"Is this the first time this has happened?" she looked suspicious, as if Alana wouldn't have brought him in before.
"Of course it i- actually…" A sickening thought came into her head. What if it wasn't? What if Will had dropped unconscious at one of his sessions with Dr. Lecter and he just… left him there? "We may be dealing with a form of… malpractice here." The doctor looked taken aback, and Alana was quick to correct her language: "Not here. There. Before. His psychiatrist, Dr. Hannibal Lecter, had taken him to Dr. Sutcliffe three weeks ago, as he had shown signs of fever and was losing time, but Dr. Lecter told the FBI that there was physically nothing wrong with him. I don't think that's possible considering he collapsed in front of me."
"Ma'am, we took the patient in for an MRI and discovered that he is suffering from advanced anti-NMDA receptor encephalitis."
"I… is he… can it still be treated?" Alana's voice trembled.
"Most respond to first-line immunotherapy, second-line if this should fail. If it does, it could take up to 18 months."

It is highly unlikely, probably impossible, that this is the first time he has lost consciousness. You indicated he had previously lost time?"

"Yes." Alana swallowed, recovering her typical calm mien.
"Unfortunately, I believe you're right about Dr. Lecter. I would believe it was impossible for an MRI to find no trace of this only a few weeks ago."
"Unfortunately I'm usually right." A bitter smirk crawled across her face until she found the strength to wipe it away. "Is he awake? Can I…?" The doctor nodded and said,
"Of course." She left the room, leaving only Alana, Will, and the several monitors.
"Will? It's Alana." Speaking softly, she placed a hand over his, careful not to cross paths with the IV tube. Her hand curled behind her ear, tucking the hair behind it. He blinked twice, carefully turning his head.
"Alana… the fever…" Alana smiled and nodded.
"They gave you NSAIDs, among other things. It should be helping."
"But I shouldn't be here, I don't deserve to be nursed, I should be in a psychiatric wa-"
"No, Will." A hint of anger bit her tongue. Will sharply inhaled and looked confused. "Hannibal lied to you. You're not mentally ill."
"I-?"
"Encephalitis." His eyes flickered rapidly, tracing the betrayal that had wrecked Alana's mind previously.
"He… how… but then…"
"Shhh…" Alana leaned forward, placing her nose a half-inch above his. The last painful conversation she remembered surfaced in her mind, her leaving him at home, completely alone, for his instability. Her professionalism wanted him mentally well before she could involve herself with him. Her own words floated into her mind: "My psychiatric interest would blanket that of my romantic interest. I want to come back when that's reversed".

Alana lowered her chin to his, lips locking calmly and motionless. When she raised her head once more, she moved her mouth to his ear, and whispered:

"I'll make you stable."