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No one is entirely sure what happened the night that Francis Dolarhyde was killed. But Alana does manage to have a general idea of what might have occurred.
Molly is distraught. Completely and utterly. She believes that Will is dead.
Alana does not know what to believe concerning the fate of Will Graham. Perhaps he is dead. (Perhaps it is easier to accept that he is dead.) If Will is not dead, then there are a few grim options. Either Hannibal is imprisoning him and keeping him against his will or Will is completely acting out of his own will in joining Hannibal’s escape from the country. (Jack once told her that Will had said that he wanted to run away with Hannibal, that he would always want to run away with Hannibal. Alana wishes Jack hadn’t told her.)
There are few facts that are known with certainty about that night. First, Hannibal Lecter escaped from his cell at the BSHCI. While everyone was in an uproar over that, the Red Dragon targeted Will Graham and his family. Molly Graham and her son Walter were able to flee into the nearby woods and call for help while Will struggled with Dolarhyde. When Jack Crawford and the police made it to the cabin, Dolarhyde was found inside lying dead in a pool of blood. There was no sign of Will Graham.
Alana knew as soon as Jack called her.
“He has Will, doesn’t he?”
Jack didn’t respond.
“God dammit, Jack. You just had to bring Will back into this, didn’t you? You just had to dangle him in front of Hannibal, didn’t you?”
Silence.
“I hope you at least have the balls to apologize to his wife and stepchild and tell them you’re the reason they’re never going to see him again.” Alana snapped before hitting the button to hang up on him.
Afterwards, Alana half-expected to see some new vulgar article posted on tattlecrime by Freddie Lounds, theorizing all about the link between Will’s disappearance and Hannibal’s escape. It was certainly the sort of thing the woman would drool over. But then Alana remembers that Freddie is dead, for good this time. Jack and the FBI couldn’t protect her anymore than they could protect Will.
(The FBI assigned Alana a protective detail, considering that Hannibal swore to kill her, but he never came to make good on his promise.).
Three weeks have passed. There is no word on either missing man. For all intents and purposes, both have dropped off the face of the earth.
Alana lies in wait for a ‘friendly’ call from Hannibal, but she believes she will never see or hear from Will again.
And then Alana’s phone rings. The caller’s contact information is blocked. She answers anyway—
“Hello, Alana,”
—and almost drops the phone.
“Will,” she breathes, in amazement and in disbelief. “You’re alive,”
He doesn’t sound pained or drugged or unhappy…which means… Alana blocks out what those words mean to listen to Will’s response.
“Yeah,” he laughs and isn’t it a beautiful sound? “Yeah, I’m still kicking. The Dragon did a number on me, but I’m alright.”
“I thought that…Hannibal would…”
Will pauses. “He hasn’t tried to eat me again, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“What happened that night, Will?”
A sigh. “When I was struggling with Dolarhyde, he managed to pin me down and get on top of me. The gun was too far away for me to reach and he had a knife. I was so sure I was going to die…"
“But then?”
“Hannibal. He showed up out of nowhere and tackled Dolarhyde and got him in the gut with the knife. I passed out shortly after that.”
“When you woke up?”
“Hannibal was tending to my wounds. He had gotten us across the border to Canada, of all places. When I was healed up enough, we took a flight over to Europe.”
“You went with him?” Alana feels something inside her chest break.
Will quickly avoids the question. “How’s Molly?”
“Molly’s a mess because she thinks you were spit-roasted by a cannibal. You went with him?”
“Please, Alana, you have to understand—"
“Understand what, Will?” Alana asks flatly.
“I don’t have anything else left.”
“Bullshit,” Alana snarls venomously. “That’s bullshit and you know it! You had a family and you left them behind. And for what? Him?”
Will is quiet for a while. “Alana, I do love Molly and Walter. Which is exactly why I had to leave them behind.”
“No, you didn’t, Will—"
“They almost died because of me!” Will voice sharply raises, causing her to jump her in seat slightly. “Dolarhyde was going to kill them and God knows Hannibal would too, if I had stayed with them. And even if Hannibal was dead, when Jack has a case that needs solving, he’ll just drag me back into this and history will repeat itself all over again. They can’t ever be safe with me, Alana. I shouldn’t have even gotten involved with them. This was always how it was going to end.”
Alana closes her eyes. “Please don’t stay with him.”
“I’m sorry,” Will sounds like he’s breaking down in tears, “I’m sorry, but he’s all I have left. I don’t have anywhere else to go but to him.”
“Do you think you love him?”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“I-I don’t know. Maybe, I just—there’s a connection that I’ve never been able to explain—"
“He doesn’t love you. He can’t. He isn’t capable of it.”
“No, you’re wrong. I think he does love, but it’s so twisted and darkened it can be barely recognizable as love.” A beat. “He loved his sister, I think.”
“You think.”
“I’m not saying there’s a lot of good in him—"
“There isn’t any good in him. But there’s plenty enough in you. Will, you can’t stay with him. You aren’t like him. Your empathy may give you a window to darkness, but it does not give you the door.”
“I know.”
“You’re going to regret this.”
“I know.”
“…you’re going to kill each other.”
(Teaware is the last thing she is thinking of at this moment, but he pictures a shattering teacup that cannot ever, ever put itself back together again.)
Softly. “I know.”
Alana feels tears coming. “Damn it, Will, why did you call me?”
“I had to call someone. One last time. And I can’t bear to call Molly or Jack to tell them what I’ve done. I wouldn’t be able to face either of them.”
“But you can face me, huh?”
“Yeah. Look, you and your family are going to be safe, alright? From Hannibal, at least.”
“You’re the reason he didn’t come calling on me?”
“Mhmm. It…It was one of my conditions for going with him, that he wasn’t going to touch your family or mine or Jack’s. Hell, even Chilton’s off the recipe list.”
“Thank you,” Alana says with a sigh. She rubs at her eyes. Maybe this would be easier if Will would act more like a monster, more like the unfeeling killer that Hannibal was and will always be. But Will still feels—and acts—like himself.
“I hope you and Margot and your son are happy together.” Will says sincerely.
“And I hope you’re as happy as you can be with the choice you’re making. I just wish you would make a different one.” Alana replies as sincerely as she can manage.
“I won’t. Goodbye, Alana,”
“Goodbye, Will,”
“Maybe we’ll see each other again. One day.” His tone is light and jovial and she doesn’t have to see his tears to know that they are there.
Alana feels the corner of her lip turn up in a smile as something wet slides down her cheek. “I hope we don’t.”
The line goes dead. Alana’s shoulders begin to shake with silent sobs.
Margot finds her curled up in the corner of the room. Alana clings to Margot like she’s drowning and Margot is the only thing that can keep her above the rolling waves. There are no words between them. Later, Alana will tell her. But for now, she grieves.
Will is lost. He will either be found broken, or dead, or he will never be found at all.
Alana has lost him. They have all lost him.
Hannibal won.