ELLE ME DIT
Chapter 1
Applause slowly rang inside of his ears as he ascertained his whereabouts. It all seemed like a dream - a dream ever since he escaped from that offal of a prison, the Baltimore penitentiary. It had been 3 years ever since he had escaped. Subsequent to his facial reconstruction, Dr. Hannibal Lecter had acquainted himself as a curator to the Louvre. The smell of mixed perfumes - lavender, peaches, and cherry blossoms - had invaded his olfactory senses. To his own disdain, he detested each individual scent until the head curator turned to him. "... Please welcome, Doctor Alighieri, a proud sponsor of our museum and an appreciator of several pieces in this gallery today. Now, please enjoy yourself to some hors d'oeuvres provided by the butlers around and acquaint yourselves with one another. We hope to fill this museum up some more. Isn't that right, Doctor?" The man proudly stalked up to Dr. Lecter, unacquainted to his true identity much to his misfortune and shook his hand with vigor.
"Yes, quite. Grazie, messere." With a curt nod of the head, the doctor proceeded to venture through the museum until his eyes had caught sight of a certain painting, known to him in many ways: The Woman Holding the Balance by the Dutch Baroque artist, Johannes Vermeer. With the ample light shining on her belly in the portrait, he was reminded of a particular woman who had revealed to him his own 'monstrosity', a revelation. The balance she held resembled judgment and justice, such an enigma that the agent was delineated herself. A small smile slowly melted onto his thin lips. "Clarice..." Hannibal inhaled sharply and rubbed his knuckles with the pads of his fingers inquisitively before walking out of the museum, ignoring the many greetings and panegyric cacophony that followed. The likes of the people in there only served well as an entree to him, nonetheless. "Fortunately for them, I'm not hungry…" he mused to himself with a wicked grin before getting into his car. He stayed idle for a moment to rethink his decision. It would be prudent in his case to allow her to make the first move. Patience was significant at this moment, anyways.
The gloom of the dark basement room increased as the sky darkened outside, so much so that Clarice Starling had to strain her eyes a little to read the tiny text on the computer screen, the only source of light in the room, yet still only a dim glow. Scattered around the computer, much like autumn leaves, Clarice thought, were endless papers. Papers that Clarice hoped could lead her to Dr Lecter. She had taken the search into her own hands, and now she strived for his capture for a matter of personal pride, fuelled by determination. Clarice remembered something he had once said to her in Memphis; "Everything you need to find him is there in those pages". Although Dr Lecter was referring to the now deceased Jame Gumb as the 'him' in that statement, Clarice had clung to that, and desperately tried to make it about Hannibal. She was convincing herself that he could be tracked down through the information she had in front of her, but alas, a part of her knew that this was absurd. Clarice buried that part deep down and tried to forget about it.
As he sat in the car, his hands hovered over the leather steering wheel. His fingers cupped around the contours, familiarizing themselves with the material in a circular fashion. He wondered what Clarice's car was like, the strong Mustang - just like her. "Brave Clarice. You're such a warrior..." He sighed contentedly and patted the steering wheel before fumbling through his pockets for his keys. Once the keys were in the ignition, each ideation summoned in his memory palace flashed by. He saw her face, he felt her finger on his, he could smell her airy perfume, but most prominently - he heard the screaming of the lambs. With that last muse, his eyes flitted to the scene in front of him - Baltimore. It would not take long for him to visit Special Agent Clarice Starling now. With a turn of the key, the Mercedes roared to life and he exited the museum parking lot, all while humming 'Beautiful Dreamer'. An ecstatic and enthusiastic smile formed on his lips, hope twinkling in his eyes - something rarely seen in Hannibal 'the Cannibal' Lecter.
Clarice rubbed her eyes until she obtained that peculiar array of rainbow colored dots and lights on her eyelids. She was tired, no, fatigued. Everyone had limits, and Clarice had to come to terms with the fact that she had reached hers. Exhaling deeply, she stood up; legs slightly numb from sitting all day, and gathered her papers, tapping them on her desk to straighten them. Shutting off her computer monitor, she left the room and headed to the car park. Clarice got into her car, slinging the papers onto the passenger seat of the Mustang. The drive home was short (which was lucky, as Clarice was fighting sleep), and she soon arrived back at her home. The darkness consumed her, and she fumbled for a moment with her keys before finally unlocking the front door. She elbowed the door, struggling with the papers which were close to spilling all over the ground. Clarice burst into her house with no grace, tiredness dulling her senses. She didn't stop to flick the light switch, only kicked the door shut behind her and dropped her papers on a small bench that sat in her hall. Clarice sighed heavily, stretching her arms and walking into the kitchen, fixing herself a drink. A half glass of whiskey, just something to aid her sleep further, ensuring a deep state of unconsciousness. She took the glass into her living room, and collapsed onto the couch. Clarice sipped her drink and slouched sideways, her head resting on a small cushion. Still engulfed in darkness, she closed her eyes, but did not sleep.
Drenched in the pitch black darkness of the room, Hannibal watched silently the woman that rivaled Venus in the corner of the room. His maroon irises seemed almost to glow despite the darkness. Without losing a beat, he stepped out of the sea of black and approached the agent, his eyes never blinking. He stooped down some to place her whiskey farther away from the edge of the table to prevent it from spilling in any case. He knew his voice would break the silence, but his voice could not be contained any longer. There was sudden warmth in his palate when he spoke. "Why, hello Clarice. Long time no see." He let out a breath and allowed himself the comfort to recline in an armchair across from her, his legs crossed calmly as he awaited her response, something he knew that would possibly hurt him to an unfortunate content.
Clarice, who had not yet lost consciousness, but was slow and on the verge of sleep, gave a small mumble, believing the voice to be a figment of her imagination, she opened an eye, and quickly registered the presence of Dr Lecter. Bolting upright, a twisted look of anger and shock on her face, she fumbled for her gun, which sat in a holster around her waist, safety on. Sleep clinging to her, Clarice shook her head as if trying to rid herself of fatigue. A snarl formed on her face as she flicked the safety off and pointed her gun at Hannibal. "What the /hell/ are you doing here?!" She inquired, her voice raised, rage mutating her tones into throaty growls, her accent enhancing each word as she glared at him, quaking slightly in shock. She was not scared, but angry that he could find her so easily, yet she was not able to track him down first.
Just as he had expected. He smiled a curt smile and allowed her to finish reacting before speaking. "Brave Clarice. I remember you to be calmer last time we had chatted. Tell me, have the lambs stopped screaming?" He deliberately avoided the fact that he was at gunpoint, because he knew she would never dare shoot him. "You see, Clarice, you need to get more fun out of life. We can't keep having this cat and mouse game forever, you know. There's always an end to something." He smiled, his small white teeth shimmering the bare moonlight that sneaked through the window. Clarice was arguing with herself internally, hands shaking slightly as she aimed her gun. One side of her wanted to shoot him. Another, the side of Clarice that was solely dedicated to her career, wanted to arrest him on the spot and turn him in. But one side, a rogue one at that, couldn't shoot him. Not after everything. Yes, it was a few brief sessions, but there was always something there, and that something strengthened every time they spoke. And that side, the weak side of Clarice, seemed to be winning.
"I'm ending it here." She said firmly, fighting the urge to lower the gun. "The game is over, Dr Lecter. Don't make me shoot you..." Clarice spat out, gritting her teeth as her mental battle raged on. The gun lowered slightly, but Clarice held it tightly in place, as if gravity was telling her to put it down. She would not give him the satisfaction of escaping arrest again, but something told her that she might have to.
"Brave Clarice. Would you really kill me? No, you'd deny me my liberty, wouldn't you? You'd do just that. No, actually not at all. You'd do none of that. You're too strong for that, you're too... independent –
"No!" She desperately tried to deny it. The gun wavered in her hand before becoming still. Quick intakes of breaths were taken through her nose.
"Clarice," He spoke calmly while her battle raged on. "I'm sure this has come to your realization just as much as it has for me. Every ideation summoned in your mind every day is not only of your career or your social life. It's a known fact that you and I have been recurrent in one another's thoughts, isn't that right? Tell me truly, Special Agent Starling. You know, our discussions down in the dungeon back then - they were meaningful, weren't they? It's best if I return the favor in that case, Clarice." He stood up slowly and paced over to her, a looming shadow that came into view. With a calm gesture, he placed the palm of his hand over the barrel of the pistol and took it without a moment's hesitation from her. Placing the pistol on the table, he cocked his head to the side slightly to gaze at her figure. "What do you expect from me, Clarice? Hm? We don't expect the same things from one another. I will never give in just as you will never submit. We are one and the same, Clarice." He never dared touch her. It would be impolite if he did. Instead he waited for her and took a prudent step back. "Ask what you will and I will answer. Quid pro quo, Clarice. Yes or no?" The memories came flooding back, except this time, there was nothing separating the two of them anymore. It was her decision now whether she wanted to step into his territory.
Clarice gave up, and watched Dr. Lecter place her pistol down without putting up a fight. There was no point even trying, not when she couldn't possibly do anything to harm him after everything they'd been through, every last word spoken, and every single last thought. Clarice allowed her arms to fall to her sides as she stared at Dr Lecter, resentment and anger fading in her eyes. She took a step forward, her glare not shifting. "Go, Doctor." She replied. Quid pro quo.. Clarice mused. The same act that had enlightened Dr Lecter on Clarice's somewhat troubled childhood. The lambs, the awful screaming of the lambs that was recurring, although it had ceased for a few long months and then returned suddenly, one night peace, the next torment. Dr Lecter probably knew that it would not stop forever, Clarice thought, as he was incredibly talented at reading people and Clarice would bet at least ten dollars on the fact that he had rightly predicted her reaction to his entrance, and the events to come. Clarice thought of twisting her reaction to something absurd, but then decided against it. It would be ridiculous to try and trick Dr Lecter; it was simply impossible.
Seeing the transition in her facial expressions, he chose not to press on the situation, rather he allowed her control. "No, Clarice - It's your turn now. I will answer whatever you wish for me to answer." He was tempted to hold her hand, but he contained himself. Instead, he allowed his eyes to flutter shut and his tilted his head upward slightly to give himself into the mixed scents of the room until his olfactory senses picked up the usual L'air du Temp. Today, she chose to wear it. Brave Clarice. He smiled at this known fact and looked at her directly in the eyes, allowing his gaze to conform to hers so it would not make her uncomfortable. "Go, Clarice." A warm smile adorned his lips.
Questions formed in Clarice's mind, so many questions. But she knew she would have to answer Dr. Lecter's questions in exchange for her own. So, which to choose? Clarice thought hard, and her gaze faltered for a moment as she broke eye contact with Dr Lecter, her eyes darting around the room as she tried to decide. Then, the most obvious inquiry slipped out. "What are you doing here, Dr Lecter?" She questioned, reestablishing the eye contact, feeling as though she was being enveloped in his maroon eyes, but that effect she was used to, although she had not witnessed it for some time. Clarice had little time to think about why he was here, she didn't think it was to kill her, or she would be dead by now. No, Dr Hannibal Lecter had no intentions of murdering Clarice. But what else could it be? What drives a man to enter a woman's home and ask to play mind games with her? Hannibal was insane, she thought, then corrected herself. No, Dr. Lecter was insane. She did not call him by his first name. Clarice felt like that was too equal, and she knew what he was capable of. They were not equals, but Clarice attempted to make it seem that way.
"The reason I am here is to see you, it's simple. Just as you had come to see me in my prison several times, I see it only respectable to visit you just as you came to visit me, Clarice." He never knew it was so difficult to speak to her. He was used to speaking to her as a man behind the bars, but in front of her, he felt weak and vulnerable. He was hesitant to do so, but he hovered his hand over hers briefly before taking hold of it and raising it to his chest. "Can you feel it, Clarice? I hope you understand." He wanted that thought to be mentioned to her.
His pulse never went above 85, even when he ate her tongue...
His eyes sought for her consent, but instead he lowered their hands down to her lap. He was afraid he had made a mistake. He stayed silent and thought it sagacious to let her decide what she wanted to do. "Your turn, Clarice. Have you always felt spite towards me? Make an effort to answer, now.." A smirk pulled at the end of his mouth, knowing that old memories would be uncovered in the moment. Clarice was slightly uncomfortable, and the smallest bit disgusted at Dr. Lecter touching her hand. Always behind bars.. She never thought this would change. She did not pull away straight away, not because she was scared of what he might do, but because she was unsure of how to react to this. Spite, he had said. Clarice slowly withdrew her hand from his grasp, not wanting to act rudely, as she knew that Dr Lecter admired politeness. Clarice opened her mouth to speak.
"I do not feel spite for you, Dr Lecter. I have no reason to. You never wronged me." She answered, her voice steady, as she had no reason to be afraid. "Apart from calling me a rube." She mused, a small smirk playing on her lips. Clarice knew he wouldn't hurt her, so it was okay to wind him up a little. Fun. "Quid pro quo, Dr Lecter.." She added. His gaze was unsettling, she felt like she couldn't pretend or hide anything from him. Clarice was always one to question, as he well knew. But Dr. Lecter enjoyed listening to Clarice's numerous inquiries, or maybe it irritated him. She would never know, as she did not possess the strange gift that he had, the gift of reading people as if they were open books.
Smart girl. You know you cannot hide anything from me. One and the same, I know that I cannot hide anything from you either.
"Oh, that little fiasco? I sincerely apologize for the psychological harm that I've dealt you. I am sure you are aware that it is a force of habit before I realized that you were much more than that, Clarice. I never doubted your abilities." For a moment, his words almost caught in his throat. He still felt that sting of rejection, and he felt as if it hurt more than it did when his beloved Mischa was ripped from his arms. "Clarice, I hope you realize our situation right now. I am free, you are free - yet we are still technically bound. You, by the FBI. I, by the limits of my own alias. Yet now, I feel liberated in front of you. Do you know why? You liberate me, Clarice." A pause. He had realized that his heart had skipped a beat. Unsure as to why he kept pressing the insinuation, he was hesitant of his own self, his own decisions. He had never felt this feeling before in his life. Momentarily, his fingers twitched uncomfortably and he realized that his eyes had never blinked. All he was able to do was stare down at her in that very moment, not realizing the predicament he was in. He was in the cross hairs of her own judgment now. It was her choice whether or not to accept him into her life. "I want to be with you, Clarice. I need you with me now." His heart rate dropped to 85. His eyes blinked once, renewing that blood red gaze and he softly gazed into Clarice's own sapphire eyes.
People will say we're in love. No. I don't want that. People will say we 'are' love... Clarice..
Slowly, his hand rose up, outstretched. An open palm floated in front of her, a vulnerable man residing behind it. This was not Hannibal the Cannibal. This was Hannibal, the boy who had needed hope since the beginning now. This was Hannibal, the boy who had died in the snow.
Clarice had to stop and think for a moment as she established what Dr. Lecter had said. 'I need you to be with me'. Need. Something that Clarice had strived on in the past, and something that was slowly catching up to her. She could understand how he was feeling. But could she relate? Not likely, she thought. Dr. Lecter was far too complicated for her to ever comprehend the roots of this sudden neediness.
"Need, Dr. Lecter? Need? Don't you mean 'want'..?" She asked, mixed sympathy in her tired eyes. The fatigue was taking its effect. Clarice became irritable when exhausted, as many of the FBI employees who had interrupted her train of thought late into the night would know. In the presence of Dr. Lecter, Clarice reminded herself constantly to be polite. But what was it worth? He couldn't hurt her. Clarice told herself to be polite to him, no matter how tired she was. It was something that he had always appreciated in her. And hadn't the qualities that he admired; politeness for one, brought him here tonight? Questions. Quid pro quo. The Doctor's way of entering her mind. But that had happened already in Baltimore and Memphis. Clarice had allowed him into her mind by telling him about the traumatic events of her childhood. The lambs. But a small part of Clarice posed the question: Could Dr. Lecter silence the lambs forever?
{A/N: Don't forget to review/follow? It's up to you guys to keep this series going. If I have enough requests, I will definitely continue. Some criticism would be nice as well, since I know that I probably have grammatical errors here and there, or format is iffy. Second FF, so I'm hoping I'm succeeding nonetheless. Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter at least!~}