Agent Clarice Starling, pioneer of useful F.B.I. agents, highly saught by
every state where some major homicide had taken place: New Jersey,
Kentucky, Illinois, New York; but no matter what was offered, she always
tried to stay in the Baltimore area, under the supervision of Jack Crawford
in the Behavioural Sciences department of the Bureau. However sometimes,
just sometimes, a case file would catch her eye, usually one with multiple
deaths, usually one with no evidence; no leads.
This had turned out the be one of those days for her, the drug heist operation had gone badly, they hadn't anticipated weapons; hadn't suspected the dealers of more than just drug smuggling. As a result of her short- sitedness two good officers had been shot, both critically ill in the district hospital. She hadn't been able to stop beating herself up about it since it happened, all through the interview with Jack, for she was the officer in charge, despite only being a junior, she had more experience in the field than the fatcats at the top ever had. It had been one gruelling day of interviews, first with Jack Crawford, telling her she didn't have to feel, she was to be detached, it happened to the best of them. Then to the routine counsellors session which happened when 'tragic events' happened, where she had to be stripped down to her raw emotions, to reveal all. However, due to her stubborness and reluctance to share personal information, which she found to be both intrusive and unnecessary, this interview dragged on for even longer than expected. Therefore, it was gone nine by the time she finally sat down at her desk.
The large room was home to several desks, her friend, Ardelia's next to hers, and it was lit by the most awful florescent lighting. She threw herself down on to her office chair, the first expression of despair she had allowed herself to show all day. Even now tears burned and pricked at the corners of her eyes, threatening to break free, but no. She would not allow herself this courtesy, she had work to do. She leant down to pick up the mountain of paperwork that had fallen on to the floor, sat back in the chair and just stared at the printed words jumping around the page. Sighing deeplym she allowed her hands to fall to her lap and leaned back, closing her eyes in defeat.
There, in the tempest of her own mind, shifting and reshaping, there was only one constant, one pair of maroon eyes, staring, penetrating the fabric of her mind. She couldn't escape them, she had thought her association with Dr. Lecter was over the moment they hung up at her graduation party. In reality though, he was still with her, he would always be with her, in her, he was a part of her now, she could not escape him. Nor did she want to.
"Clarice..."
The sophisticated voice sliced through her brain like a knife through butter, she couldn't see, couldn't touch, couldn't taste, only hear that wonderous voice, reverberating around her head. Could it really be? She opened her eyes with a start to the blinding florescent lights.
"Clarice.... how are..."
Still the same voice. It wasn't some elaborate dream! A confused mixture of delight and dread filled her veins, until she forced herself to turn.
Harsh light.
This had turned out the be one of those days for her, the drug heist operation had gone badly, they hadn't anticipated weapons; hadn't suspected the dealers of more than just drug smuggling. As a result of her short- sitedness two good officers had been shot, both critically ill in the district hospital. She hadn't been able to stop beating herself up about it since it happened, all through the interview with Jack, for she was the officer in charge, despite only being a junior, she had more experience in the field than the fatcats at the top ever had. It had been one gruelling day of interviews, first with Jack Crawford, telling her she didn't have to feel, she was to be detached, it happened to the best of them. Then to the routine counsellors session which happened when 'tragic events' happened, where she had to be stripped down to her raw emotions, to reveal all. However, due to her stubborness and reluctance to share personal information, which she found to be both intrusive and unnecessary, this interview dragged on for even longer than expected. Therefore, it was gone nine by the time she finally sat down at her desk.
The large room was home to several desks, her friend, Ardelia's next to hers, and it was lit by the most awful florescent lighting. She threw herself down on to her office chair, the first expression of despair she had allowed herself to show all day. Even now tears burned and pricked at the corners of her eyes, threatening to break free, but no. She would not allow herself this courtesy, she had work to do. She leant down to pick up the mountain of paperwork that had fallen on to the floor, sat back in the chair and just stared at the printed words jumping around the page. Sighing deeplym she allowed her hands to fall to her lap and leaned back, closing her eyes in defeat.
There, in the tempest of her own mind, shifting and reshaping, there was only one constant, one pair of maroon eyes, staring, penetrating the fabric of her mind. She couldn't escape them, she had thought her association with Dr. Lecter was over the moment they hung up at her graduation party. In reality though, he was still with her, he would always be with her, in her, he was a part of her now, she could not escape him. Nor did she want to.
"Clarice..."
The sophisticated voice sliced through her brain like a knife through butter, she couldn't see, couldn't touch, couldn't taste, only hear that wonderous voice, reverberating around her head. Could it really be? She opened her eyes with a start to the blinding florescent lights.
"Clarice.... how are..."
Still the same voice. It wasn't some elaborate dream! A confused mixture of delight and dread filled her veins, until she forced herself to turn.
Harsh light.