Big, general disclaimer: I don't own your character's, and this doesn't even really follow 'Hannibal,' it's set after Silence of the Lambs, and
is made to be really a sequal to that, in the place of 'Hannibal,' I don't do this for profit, and in fact, only seek for feedback...
-Rube & Mischa, the co-authors-
Written by Rube and Mischa
"Starling? Is she here?"
"No Mr. Crawford, no sign of her yet, but I'm sure she'll be in later."
Jack cocked his head to the side, considering the secretary's statement, and then seemed to deem it true. He nodded his head and
turned his head back to his endless mountain of paperwork. Jack was unable to concentrate on it, however; he was a little stressed
about the next assignment he was putting Starling on. But she seemed to be the most familiar with the Hannibal Lecter case, other then
the now disfigured Will Graham.
What worried Crawford about Clarice Starling's connection to the case was really a matter of Lecter's connection to the case. In all of his
years, Jack had never seen any serial killer, sociopath or otherwise, react so...affectionately to someone from the F.B.I. True, Hannibal
had not seen a woman in eight plus years, but his way of treating Clarice to a way that she felt almost comfortable in his presence gave
one pause. What did Hannibal want with Clarice?
He had no more time for thoughts on that when a small breeze of brown hair, legs, perfume and brains came swiftly into his office. Or, he
thought, adding this one to his list, that maybe Hannibal just saw in her what everyone else with half a brain did. She had guts, wit and
a nice appearence. Crawford couldn't help but agree with the latter as her blue eyes smiled down at him from where she was standing.
"Morning sir." Her soft accent made it sound almost like 'moron sure'. Crawford chuckled to himself. He would have to write that down
and tell it to Clarice when they weren't under such professional structure. It felt odd to have Clarice call him 'sir' and not Jack or Jay, as
was their custum.
"Morning Starling. I have something here I would like to assign you to," he said, rummaging around on his desk with his hand, trying to
find the case file for her. His head was ducked down, but he imagined there was a gleam in Starling's eyes that only popped up when
she was given a case directly from him. He never gave her shit. She was just too smart for shit. "Ah, here it is," he said, smiling and
handing her the four hundred or so papers, clipped together with numerous staplers and paper clips.
"Thank you sir," she said, grasping the file in her capable hands and slipping into one of the three chairs that sat before his desk. She
frowned to herself a little, but her interest seemed piqued by the title. "Hannibal Lecter 'Copycat' killings,' it read, in large, bold lettering.
She licked her pointer finger and began to flip casually through the file. She plopped it down on his desk, and sat back with her arms folded.
"Permission to speak freely, sir."
"Granted, Agent Starling."
She sighed and recrossed her arms.
"Jack, I have the feeling that you are giving me this because you know it's not a copycat crime at all, that it's really Doctor Lecter, and
you're just using me as a sort of bait, leverage against Lecter because you know we've formed a sort of rappaport."
He studied her under hooded eyes.
"You're right about two things. You did form a rappaport with Lecter, so we will try and use this to our advantage, and yes, I myself believe
that these are not copycat crimes, and are, in fact, just a ploy to make us think so. But I'm putting you on this case because it was the
only one Krendler's men didn't grab up and you're damn capapble of solving it, Clarice."
"Thanks Jack."
He shook his head.
"Not a compliment, Clarice."
He stood suddenly, and began to pace behind his desk and chair. He felt Starling's eyes on him, and wondered if he really was doing this
for the right reasons. Her comments just hit too close to home. He tapped his pursed lips and tried not to look at her when he spoke.
"I want you to review that file carefully, Clarice. Give it all of your attention. After you've got some idea of where you think he might be, I
want you to check yourself by interviewing anyone, ANYONE, who had personal contact with Lecter, and see where they think he might
be, and I want you to record and cross-check, examine, psychoanalyze and ponder everything they said, minimal or no."
"Well, who do I start with?"
"Barney, that orderly, and Lecter's surviving ex-mistress, Alicia Smith."
"Alicia Smith?" She spoke slowly, as if trying to comprehend a forigen language.
"Mm-hm."
"Lecter's old mistress?"
"Mm-hm."
"Alright."
Her voice was softer then he had ever heard it. His head jerked up. Maybe this was a mistake, maybe she really didn't want to get any
deeper into the whole Lecter thing, maybe...a quick glance at her face dispelled any doubts Jack had. She could handle it. She was
Clarice Starling.
is made to be really a sequal to that, in the place of 'Hannibal,' I don't do this for profit, and in fact, only seek for feedback...
-Rube & Mischa, the co-authors-
Written by Rube and Mischa
"Starling? Is she here?"
"No Mr. Crawford, no sign of her yet, but I'm sure she'll be in later."
Jack cocked his head to the side, considering the secretary's statement, and then seemed to deem it true. He nodded his head and
turned his head back to his endless mountain of paperwork. Jack was unable to concentrate on it, however; he was a little stressed
about the next assignment he was putting Starling on. But she seemed to be the most familiar with the Hannibal Lecter case, other then
the now disfigured Will Graham.
What worried Crawford about Clarice Starling's connection to the case was really a matter of Lecter's connection to the case. In all of his
years, Jack had never seen any serial killer, sociopath or otherwise, react so...affectionately to someone from the F.B.I. True, Hannibal
had not seen a woman in eight plus years, but his way of treating Clarice to a way that she felt almost comfortable in his presence gave
one pause. What did Hannibal want with Clarice?
He had no more time for thoughts on that when a small breeze of brown hair, legs, perfume and brains came swiftly into his office. Or, he
thought, adding this one to his list, that maybe Hannibal just saw in her what everyone else with half a brain did. She had guts, wit and
a nice appearence. Crawford couldn't help but agree with the latter as her blue eyes smiled down at him from where she was standing.
"Morning sir." Her soft accent made it sound almost like 'moron sure'. Crawford chuckled to himself. He would have to write that down
and tell it to Clarice when they weren't under such professional structure. It felt odd to have Clarice call him 'sir' and not Jack or Jay, as
was their custum.
"Morning Starling. I have something here I would like to assign you to," he said, rummaging around on his desk with his hand, trying to
find the case file for her. His head was ducked down, but he imagined there was a gleam in Starling's eyes that only popped up when
she was given a case directly from him. He never gave her shit. She was just too smart for shit. "Ah, here it is," he said, smiling and
handing her the four hundred or so papers, clipped together with numerous staplers and paper clips.
"Thank you sir," she said, grasping the file in her capable hands and slipping into one of the three chairs that sat before his desk. She
frowned to herself a little, but her interest seemed piqued by the title. "Hannibal Lecter 'Copycat' killings,' it read, in large, bold lettering.
She licked her pointer finger and began to flip casually through the file. She plopped it down on his desk, and sat back with her arms folded.
"Permission to speak freely, sir."
"Granted, Agent Starling."
She sighed and recrossed her arms.
"Jack, I have the feeling that you are giving me this because you know it's not a copycat crime at all, that it's really Doctor Lecter, and
you're just using me as a sort of bait, leverage against Lecter because you know we've formed a sort of rappaport."
He studied her under hooded eyes.
"You're right about two things. You did form a rappaport with Lecter, so we will try and use this to our advantage, and yes, I myself believe
that these are not copycat crimes, and are, in fact, just a ploy to make us think so. But I'm putting you on this case because it was the
only one Krendler's men didn't grab up and you're damn capapble of solving it, Clarice."
"Thanks Jack."
He shook his head.
"Not a compliment, Clarice."
He stood suddenly, and began to pace behind his desk and chair. He felt Starling's eyes on him, and wondered if he really was doing this
for the right reasons. Her comments just hit too close to home. He tapped his pursed lips and tried not to look at her when he spoke.
"I want you to review that file carefully, Clarice. Give it all of your attention. After you've got some idea of where you think he might be, I
want you to check yourself by interviewing anyone, ANYONE, who had personal contact with Lecter, and see where they think he might
be, and I want you to record and cross-check, examine, psychoanalyze and ponder everything they said, minimal or no."
"Well, who do I start with?"
"Barney, that orderly, and Lecter's surviving ex-mistress, Alicia Smith."
"Alicia Smith?" She spoke slowly, as if trying to comprehend a forigen language.
"Mm-hm."
"Lecter's old mistress?"
"Mm-hm."
"Alright."
Her voice was softer then he had ever heard it. His head jerked up. Maybe this was a mistake, maybe she really didn't want to get any
deeper into the whole Lecter thing, maybe...a quick glance at her face dispelled any doubts Jack had. She could handle it. She was
Clarice Starling.