"She understands. She doesn't comprehend…"
Firefly: Objects in Space written by Joss Whedon
Note: My 50th fanfic! I feel like I've been doing this quite some time now. In way of an introduction, let me just say that this is the fifth and final section of my Revenant series, which began in Lessons; continued in Her Burning Heart, DayNight, and A Hole In The Head; and now concludes here. However, if you're coming to this story fresh, it can still be read as a stand-alone (though I'd love it if you could read and review my other stories as well). Now this first chapter (which follows on from the film canon) contains a sequence of crucifixion, though it is not explicit, and is not written to be offensive in any way - so I hope no-one will take offence. At the moment I'm giving it a T / PG-13 rating, due to it not being explicitly violent - though it may be bumped up in the future.
previously in "DayNight"
"Clarice, we want you to go to New York. There's been a murder, absolutely horrific. Occurred a few hours ago, the body's just been discovered. We haven't had time for forensics to be analysed, but we had a phone call, placed to Emergency Services. We still awaiting a match, but it mentions you Clarice. This so-called Witness wants you, and only you to protect him."
"Where is this Witness now?"
"We have no idea. We're still trying to locate him."
THE WITNESS
a Hannibal fanfic by JetNoir
Chapter One - One Day After Sunday
3 a.m.
CENTRAL PARK; NEW YORK CITY
It was pain.
It was Sunday, day of rest, but for James Forbes, all there was in his fractured mind, was pain. Pain, screaming and pulsing throughout his entire body, until it became simply indescribable.
"Shush," said the person in front of him, "it'll all be over soon. My point will be made, and you will be found."
James' eyes darted from the masked figure, dressed entirely in black, to his own bonds, and then to the tree opposite where the figure was hitting a nail with a hammer.
His eyes widened in shock as he realised what his captor was preparing, and he tried to scream through his tightly gagged mouth - alas, to no avail.
His captor…his murderer was preparing a crucifix.
"You know," said the figure in his slightly muffled voice, "I always found it fascinating what the Christians did with the Crucifix. Just think: you're part of an oppressed religion, regularly fed to the lions in front of baying crowds, and the ones the Roman's really didn't like were executed slowly and horrible painfully, by crucifixion. And then there leader-slash-deity sacrifices himself, and after the resurrection, they adopt the symbol of their oppression, and turn it into a rallying point. It's quite a potent idea, and one I always admired them for. They were brave, I'll give them that." He stopped, and stepped back to admire his handiwork.
"Just consider me a lion," he said after a moment, "now. Mr Forbes, as your wallet was so kind to introduce us. Well, one way, that is. First, I wish to apologise. My choosing of you was entirely random, although I realise that will be of no comfort to you. The next few hours will be excruciatingly painful, again, sincerest apologies: but it must be done. Now I will explain this procedure to you, I will knock you out, and secure your arms and legs with restraints against the upright wood. Then these wooden washes will be driven through your legs and wrists. And yes, that is correct. Due to a mistranslation of the bible, many years ago, the position of the washes were moved from wrists to palms, and I'm afraid the palms wouldn't do. So the wrist's it is. Oh, look at me go on. Alright, Mr Forbes, here we go."
The figure set about his task.
--
5:14 a.m.
OUTSIDE CENTRAL PARK; NEW YORK CITY
It took a minute over three hours for James Forbes to die, and he went weeping and exhausted. But he wasn't alone.
A safe distance from the trees was another figure. A witness. Someone who saw the whole distressing murder.
He would have helped, if he could, but was too scared to move, too transfixed, in other words, powerless. Even if he had stood forward, he too would have been slain.
So when the figure had left, the witness waited for a safe time to elapse. Then, fearfully, and carefully, he rushed out of the closed Central Park to find a phone. Almost breathless, he grabbed the receiver, and dialled three numbers.
"911 Emergency. How may I assist."
"It's horrible," whispered the witness, "oh, god, help…"
"Sir. What is your emergency."
"I just saw. A crucifixion, oh merciful lord, oh god, help me. I'm outside Central Park, please, for god's sake, send someone quickly. No!"
"Sir. What is your name?"
"He's coming. The murderer, he's coming. Find me, please. Listen, I want FBI, Clarice Starling. I want her and only her to protect me. I know I can trust her. I have to start running now…"
"Sir? Sir?"
--
The N.Y.P.D. arrived in record time, to discover their macabre crime, but no trace of the murderer, or the witness was found.
Central Park was immediately closed, an unprecedented step, and forensics swept through the huge forest of trees and seats and parks.
Due to the severe nature of the crime, the witness's request was honoured, and after her ordeal in Chicago, FBI Director Gabriel Tunberry sent her to New York. It was assumed that either the witness got away, or the killer had destroyed him. Either way, a seasoned Special Agent was appreciated by the investigators. Their mission was split twofold, find the killer, and find the witness.
It was only the beginning of the nightmare.
--
3 a.m. - ONE DAY AFTER SUNDAY
JFK INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT; NEW YORK CITY
It took twenty-four hours from the murder, to the phone call, to Clarice Starling arriving in New York City.
The second she stepped out of the airport she was met with escorts and taken directly to the 1st Police Precinct.
She looked out the window, at the towering skyscrapers, and shining buildings, never knowing what was to come. The horrors she was to face.
When she left New York, the world would be forever changed.
to be continued…
Note: As I wrote before, I really hope nobody is offended by this section, as that was certainly not my intention. After Mason Verger's references in Hannibal (the novel), I'm hoping it's alright. I also hope you liked the chapter, and please review.
Disclaimer: Hannibal is copyright to Thomas Harris; and the story, plus original characters to me. This story has been written on the understanding that you may read it and print it out; but you may not pass it off as your own, hire it out, or sell it for money. You also may not put it on your own or any other web page (that includes links) without my express written permission. Thankyou!
JetNoir