Nothing Else Matters
Authors Note:
This story takes place one year after the events in Hannibal. Clarice has left the FBI for good and receives a call that may make her join again despite her hate for the corrupted bureau.
Introduction: Bad news for Will Graham
The man in the car sped up and over the hill. The minutes passed by too slowly and each second seemed like a year. He put more speed onto the car and his red Porsche flew over the speed humps causing the man to jolt back horribly in his seat. The seatbelt ran across his neck and burnt him severely so he undid it and drove faster. Will Graham removed his sunglasses and threw them over his head, they disappeared behind him.
Less than three seconds ago he had received the call on his mobile phone that changed everything in a matter of seconds. It was the sound of his wife Molly and their child Josh, only they were crying and then there was another sound. The voice of a man, the man that was currently holding them captive in his own house. He thought of nothing but getting to his home and as the outside scenery flashed by in such a way that would have made him throw up had he been looking at anything else but the road. He hoped to god that the people in the car would be okay. He hoped that they wouldn't be hurt and that they would be alive and waiting for him when he pulled in the driveway and entered the home. The cell phone next to him hummed loudly and he put it to his ear.
"Yeah?" He asked almost positive that he was talking to the killer. He turned violently and the car turned into a small street. The street was usually not that busy and he figured it would be faster driving through the backstreets rather than taking the busy main road. There was a heavy breathing on the other end of the line and he heard the sobbing of his wife and child that chilled him to the bone.
"Will, you are running late. I told you to be here in two minutes. In thirty seconds you will be late." The voice said. It was heavy and deep, and was clearly being altered by a machine of some kind. It had a robotic hum to it that made Graham suspect he was using a voice box.
"I'll be there. What do you want?" Will called into the phone, there was no answer and the phone line went dead. He sped up and turned another corner. Eventually he came to his street and pulled up into the driveway. What struck him as odd was the fact that every single light in the house was on. The sun had gone down about half an hour ago and it was getting to be almost completely dark. Will got out of his car and didn't bother to close the door. He ran up the footpath and the Hawaiian T-shirt he wore unbuttoned flowed behind him in the wind.
The Ex-FBI agent entered the house and noticed that everything in the house had been trashed, there was not one piece of furniture that was left sitting in its regular place. There were coffee tables and lounges spread out over the floor and Will immediately went to the coffee table closest to the door that led down to the basement. He reached under it and felt the gun he had taped to the bottom of it. Will's house was a two-storey home that he had purchased with the compensation cheque the FBI had handed him after the horrible Red Dragon case. It was a lovely home that he and his wife and his son had all chosen together, and though his son was almost seventeen he still lived with him and maintained a steady job. Will wondered why he didn't want to move out on occasions but now the only thought about Josh that he had were about hoping that he wasn't dead.
He held the gun in two hands and had it pointed to the ground. Although he had left the FBI and was just a civilian there were things, such as holding a weapon that would never truly leave him. He leaned against a wall, and next to him was a wooden door that led to the living room. He breathed silently and kicked the door open he ran inside his gun held in front of him and entered the living room.
"Oh sweet Jesus no!" He called and dropped his weapon. He dropped to his knees and put his hands to his face. He didn't know whether the liquid forming under his eyes were tears or sweat. He guessed that they were probably both.
Chapter One: An Unexpected Phone Call.
CLARICE Starling was ironing her and Ardelia's clothes like she did every Friday night with a glass of scotch and coke. Occasionally she would sip from the glass and every now and then she would stop and stretch. Ever since she left the FBI her life had been a humble one, and she loved every second that she had to rest but every now and then she would wonder what her life would be like if she hadn't left the FBI and she wondered what kind of case she would be on had she never sat at that table with Hannibal Lecter and the infamous Paul Krendler.
Of course she had received an invitation to Paul Krendler's funeral and she even debated going. However alas the day came and given her lukewarm feelings towards the deceased man she stayed at home and watched a movie with her room mate Ardelia Mapp.
Clarice Starling finished her ironing for the day and downed the last of her scotch and coke. She walked through the moderately large apartment and finally came to her bedroom. She went and sat down on her bed and looked at herself in the mirror opposite of her. Her mind dazed and she remembered that one fateful night in which she had been drugged and forced to have a meal with the infamous Hannibal Lecter.
"Do you think that is you turn me in, they might reward with you a medal? And would you look at that medal in order to gain self confidence and gratitude on your own behalf? Why all you would need for that Clarice is a mirror." The words came out of her mind and she could never forget the metallic rasp of his voice. She doubted that they were the correct words that came out of the doctors mouth but they were somewhere along those lines, she excused herself from not remembering the correct dialogue the good doctor had spoken as she was high on god knows what drugs he had put into her.
Now her eyes wondered into the mirror and she stared at herself. She remembered those words that the doctor had said, but performing them didn't make her feel any different. She didn't feel as if she was gaining anything from delving deep into the mirror. She felt blank and somehow hollow, her thoughts were interrupted by a phone ring. She got up and approached the cordless phone that she had purchased only recently. She expected it to be Ardelia probably wasted and needing a ride home.
Ardelia was having difficulty facing the death of her father that month and so Clarice didn't judge her as she was throwing up in the toilet from being so utterly drunk. Surprise hit her hard when it wasn't Ardelia but an old friend who she hadn't had contact with in years. In fact she felt a little awkward talking to him. She picked up the cordless phone and punched the big button at the top. She put the phone to her ear. Her eyes widened when she heard the persons voice.
"Is this Clarice Starling?" The voice asked, and she was automatically reminded of whom it was. Her memory fell back to years and years ago and she remembered lengthy conversations with him, the man that she had both loved and hated at the same time. The man that went by the name of Jack Crawford.
"Yes, Jack Crawford?" She tested, just to make sure that her brain was playing nasty tricks on her. She doubted that it was but just in case she started talking to the man like she had known him she asked his name anyway.
"Yes. Clarice, it's been quite some time." He hesitated and then let out a sigh. Clarice didn't know whether he had finished speaking or if he had stopped in the middle of a sentence.
"I beg your pardon sir, but why? Why does Jack Crawford one of the worlds greatest criminologists call me at nine?" She asked, it was a genuine question but there was something about it that felt false coming out of her mouth. Something about it that tasted odd.
"Clarice I'm not going to drag this on. I'm going to come out and say it straight." He said and once again there was a strange, awkward silence. She waited and wondered whether or not to continue on with friendly chitchat. When she was about to say something he came back and finished.
"There's been a murder, do you remember Will Graham?" Jack Crawford asked, her mind searched back and it took a while for her to recognise the name but when she did it came back so clear to her. He was of course the man that captured Hannibal Lecter for the first time. The one that had almost died stopping the Red Dragon or the 'Tooth Fairy' as he was known by some of the police.
"Yes, the man that captured Hannibal." She responded. Her eyes had wondered out to the window and she remembered walking down that long hall in the basement of the Institution for the Criminally insane all those years ago. She remembered Miggs and of course seeing Hannibal Lecter standing there, waiting for her. How straight he stood and how still, he had creeped her out back then.
"Yesterday his wife and seventeen year old son were found murdered in their home. The son was gutted and the wife hung from the ceiling room fan. Her throat was cut." He said. The images of all these horrible things flashed through her mind and for a second there she thought that she was once again in the FBI, she thought that she was talking to her partner and that she had never left the bureau, then she remembered that she was now a civilian and became pissed at Crawford for digging this gore up on her.
"That's all very tragic, sir. But what does this have to do with me?" She asked and then felt embarrassed that she had called him sir. She wished she could just highlight that part of her speech like she did on a computer and press the good old delete key. Of course she couldn't and she hoped that Crawford had even noticed what she had said.
"They think it was Hannibal Lecter!" He said and this news shocked Starling beyond anything. She took a step back and nearly tripped over. She guessed that many people would be surprised at her reaction after all he was a psychopath but to her Hannibal was something much more than that. In a weird way Hannibal was her friend. She balanced herself out a little and shook her head.
"How do they know that, it could have been anybody." She yelled into the phone, as if she were defending someone close to her, someone that she loved.
"They found his fingerprints all over the crime scene." He said and that shocked her even more. Clarice quickly walked to the kitchen and poured herself some Scotch she then returned to the lounge room and sat down in a big leather armchair. She drank it straight without any sort of soda to water it down.
"Are you sure it's his prints?" She asked. There was another silence on the phone and at one point Clarice thought that Crawford had hung up. "Sixteen point match, enough to hold up in court." He said. Clarice and Crawford chatted for a few minutes longer and she agreed to meet him in a coffee house just across the road from her building. She sat in the armchair with her empty cup until the early hours of the morning and wondered why Hannibal would commit such horrible acts. Hannibal the man that would always be in her mind no matter what she did to shake him out.
Next Chapter: Meeting Crawford.
Authors Note:
This story takes place one year after the events in Hannibal. Clarice has left the FBI for good and receives a call that may make her join again despite her hate for the corrupted bureau.
Introduction: Bad news for Will Graham
The man in the car sped up and over the hill. The minutes passed by too slowly and each second seemed like a year. He put more speed onto the car and his red Porsche flew over the speed humps causing the man to jolt back horribly in his seat. The seatbelt ran across his neck and burnt him severely so he undid it and drove faster. Will Graham removed his sunglasses and threw them over his head, they disappeared behind him.
Less than three seconds ago he had received the call on his mobile phone that changed everything in a matter of seconds. It was the sound of his wife Molly and their child Josh, only they were crying and then there was another sound. The voice of a man, the man that was currently holding them captive in his own house. He thought of nothing but getting to his home and as the outside scenery flashed by in such a way that would have made him throw up had he been looking at anything else but the road. He hoped to god that the people in the car would be okay. He hoped that they wouldn't be hurt and that they would be alive and waiting for him when he pulled in the driveway and entered the home. The cell phone next to him hummed loudly and he put it to his ear.
"Yeah?" He asked almost positive that he was talking to the killer. He turned violently and the car turned into a small street. The street was usually not that busy and he figured it would be faster driving through the backstreets rather than taking the busy main road. There was a heavy breathing on the other end of the line and he heard the sobbing of his wife and child that chilled him to the bone.
"Will, you are running late. I told you to be here in two minutes. In thirty seconds you will be late." The voice said. It was heavy and deep, and was clearly being altered by a machine of some kind. It had a robotic hum to it that made Graham suspect he was using a voice box.
"I'll be there. What do you want?" Will called into the phone, there was no answer and the phone line went dead. He sped up and turned another corner. Eventually he came to his street and pulled up into the driveway. What struck him as odd was the fact that every single light in the house was on. The sun had gone down about half an hour ago and it was getting to be almost completely dark. Will got out of his car and didn't bother to close the door. He ran up the footpath and the Hawaiian T-shirt he wore unbuttoned flowed behind him in the wind.
The Ex-FBI agent entered the house and noticed that everything in the house had been trashed, there was not one piece of furniture that was left sitting in its regular place. There were coffee tables and lounges spread out over the floor and Will immediately went to the coffee table closest to the door that led down to the basement. He reached under it and felt the gun he had taped to the bottom of it. Will's house was a two-storey home that he had purchased with the compensation cheque the FBI had handed him after the horrible Red Dragon case. It was a lovely home that he and his wife and his son had all chosen together, and though his son was almost seventeen he still lived with him and maintained a steady job. Will wondered why he didn't want to move out on occasions but now the only thought about Josh that he had were about hoping that he wasn't dead.
He held the gun in two hands and had it pointed to the ground. Although he had left the FBI and was just a civilian there were things, such as holding a weapon that would never truly leave him. He leaned against a wall, and next to him was a wooden door that led to the living room. He breathed silently and kicked the door open he ran inside his gun held in front of him and entered the living room.
"Oh sweet Jesus no!" He called and dropped his weapon. He dropped to his knees and put his hands to his face. He didn't know whether the liquid forming under his eyes were tears or sweat. He guessed that they were probably both.
Chapter One: An Unexpected Phone Call.
CLARICE Starling was ironing her and Ardelia's clothes like she did every Friday night with a glass of scotch and coke. Occasionally she would sip from the glass and every now and then she would stop and stretch. Ever since she left the FBI her life had been a humble one, and she loved every second that she had to rest but every now and then she would wonder what her life would be like if she hadn't left the FBI and she wondered what kind of case she would be on had she never sat at that table with Hannibal Lecter and the infamous Paul Krendler.
Of course she had received an invitation to Paul Krendler's funeral and she even debated going. However alas the day came and given her lukewarm feelings towards the deceased man she stayed at home and watched a movie with her room mate Ardelia Mapp.
Clarice Starling finished her ironing for the day and downed the last of her scotch and coke. She walked through the moderately large apartment and finally came to her bedroom. She went and sat down on her bed and looked at herself in the mirror opposite of her. Her mind dazed and she remembered that one fateful night in which she had been drugged and forced to have a meal with the infamous Hannibal Lecter.
"Do you think that is you turn me in, they might reward with you a medal? And would you look at that medal in order to gain self confidence and gratitude on your own behalf? Why all you would need for that Clarice is a mirror." The words came out of her mind and she could never forget the metallic rasp of his voice. She doubted that they were the correct words that came out of the doctors mouth but they were somewhere along those lines, she excused herself from not remembering the correct dialogue the good doctor had spoken as she was high on god knows what drugs he had put into her.
Now her eyes wondered into the mirror and she stared at herself. She remembered those words that the doctor had said, but performing them didn't make her feel any different. She didn't feel as if she was gaining anything from delving deep into the mirror. She felt blank and somehow hollow, her thoughts were interrupted by a phone ring. She got up and approached the cordless phone that she had purchased only recently. She expected it to be Ardelia probably wasted and needing a ride home.
Ardelia was having difficulty facing the death of her father that month and so Clarice didn't judge her as she was throwing up in the toilet from being so utterly drunk. Surprise hit her hard when it wasn't Ardelia but an old friend who she hadn't had contact with in years. In fact she felt a little awkward talking to him. She picked up the cordless phone and punched the big button at the top. She put the phone to her ear. Her eyes widened when she heard the persons voice.
"Is this Clarice Starling?" The voice asked, and she was automatically reminded of whom it was. Her memory fell back to years and years ago and she remembered lengthy conversations with him, the man that she had both loved and hated at the same time. The man that went by the name of Jack Crawford.
"Yes, Jack Crawford?" She tested, just to make sure that her brain was playing nasty tricks on her. She doubted that it was but just in case she started talking to the man like she had known him she asked his name anyway.
"Yes. Clarice, it's been quite some time." He hesitated and then let out a sigh. Clarice didn't know whether he had finished speaking or if he had stopped in the middle of a sentence.
"I beg your pardon sir, but why? Why does Jack Crawford one of the worlds greatest criminologists call me at nine?" She asked, it was a genuine question but there was something about it that felt false coming out of her mouth. Something about it that tasted odd.
"Clarice I'm not going to drag this on. I'm going to come out and say it straight." He said and once again there was a strange, awkward silence. She waited and wondered whether or not to continue on with friendly chitchat. When she was about to say something he came back and finished.
"There's been a murder, do you remember Will Graham?" Jack Crawford asked, her mind searched back and it took a while for her to recognise the name but when she did it came back so clear to her. He was of course the man that captured Hannibal Lecter for the first time. The one that had almost died stopping the Red Dragon or the 'Tooth Fairy' as he was known by some of the police.
"Yes, the man that captured Hannibal." She responded. Her eyes had wondered out to the window and she remembered walking down that long hall in the basement of the Institution for the Criminally insane all those years ago. She remembered Miggs and of course seeing Hannibal Lecter standing there, waiting for her. How straight he stood and how still, he had creeped her out back then.
"Yesterday his wife and seventeen year old son were found murdered in their home. The son was gutted and the wife hung from the ceiling room fan. Her throat was cut." He said. The images of all these horrible things flashed through her mind and for a second there she thought that she was once again in the FBI, she thought that she was talking to her partner and that she had never left the bureau, then she remembered that she was now a civilian and became pissed at Crawford for digging this gore up on her.
"That's all very tragic, sir. But what does this have to do with me?" She asked and then felt embarrassed that she had called him sir. She wished she could just highlight that part of her speech like she did on a computer and press the good old delete key. Of course she couldn't and she hoped that Crawford had even noticed what she had said.
"They think it was Hannibal Lecter!" He said and this news shocked Starling beyond anything. She took a step back and nearly tripped over. She guessed that many people would be surprised at her reaction after all he was a psychopath but to her Hannibal was something much more than that. In a weird way Hannibal was her friend. She balanced herself out a little and shook her head.
"How do they know that, it could have been anybody." She yelled into the phone, as if she were defending someone close to her, someone that she loved.
"They found his fingerprints all over the crime scene." He said and that shocked her even more. Clarice quickly walked to the kitchen and poured herself some Scotch she then returned to the lounge room and sat down in a big leather armchair. She drank it straight without any sort of soda to water it down.
"Are you sure it's his prints?" She asked. There was another silence on the phone and at one point Clarice thought that Crawford had hung up. "Sixteen point match, enough to hold up in court." He said. Clarice and Crawford chatted for a few minutes longer and she agreed to meet him in a coffee house just across the road from her building. She sat in the armchair with her empty cup until the early hours of the morning and wondered why Hannibal would commit such horrible acts. Hannibal the man that would always be in her mind no matter what she did to shake him out.
Next Chapter: Meeting Crawford.