Post in haste, regret at leisure.... I fixed the capitalization and punctuation. The story remains unchanged.
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'Well, Clarice, I know I said I wouldn't call on you, but I couldn't resist. Tell me, have the lambs stopped screaming?'
'What is this, quid pro quo again? You don't have a serial killer to deliver to me this time, Dr. Lecter.'
Playing his game right back at him was she? He wasn't quite prepared for that. 'That's my girl. Quid pro quo, you tell me things; I'll tell you things. What do you want now, Clarice? I'll give you clues to find me, perhaps? Mabye catching me will silence those lambs again, will it?'
'No, doctor, you tell me things, but not about capturing you. You tell me things about yourself.' She echoed his words back to him.
Hannibal felt a rage come over him. How dare she? Did she think this was a game? Did she think that he was someone she could toy with? He didn't think he could bring himself to harm her, true, but no one turned his games against him. There was silence for a while on the line. 'Are you considering my offer, doctor?'
'What makes you think I'd agree, Agent Starling? You think you can get inside MY head?'
'Now doctor, I'm supposed to give you control over me by baring my soul, yet you give nothing of yourself? It was you who proposed our little exchanges. You act so fearsome, but you are afraid to speak frankly about yourself to me?'
Hannibal's head spun. No, no, agent starling, don't.
'You think i tell you about my life and you figure out why I became the monster you see? Is that it, Starling? You figure me out and you then figure out how to protect the world from me? Capture the monster by knowing him?'
Silence.
Clarice spoke now, much softer. Tentative. 'Is that why you wanted to know about my personal life, doctor? Get inside my head in case you were ever up against me again? Did you want to gain some control over me? WAS it just a game? You could say that was the case, but I won't believe you. In the beginning I thought our -quid pro quo- sessions were about you gaining some twisted sense of control over me. When I went to see you in Memphis, all that changed. Why did you become a psychiatrist, Doctor? I think, for you, it is healing a psyche that stops YOUR lambs from screaming. It was in your eyes when I told you of my lamb and you thanked me.'
More silence.
'Why won't you let me help you with your lambs, Doctor? Have you EVER talked about them?'
'Hannibal?'
He was flabbergasted, trust his Clarice to do the truly unexpected and turn his life upside down. He felt himself retreating into the safe hallways of his memory palace. 'Clarice, what are you doing?' He sounded pained.
'Come see me, doctor, come see me. No calls to the FBI, nothing like that. Don't you know how torn I am? Everything I was taught tells me you are a monster, but everything in me tells me that you aren't, or at a least that you don't want to be. Come see me, doctor, and talk or don't talk if you aren't ready, but just come.'
Silence.
Softer still. 'Please'
Clarice hung up the phone. Hannibal was reeling. He alternated between outright rage and fear. Clarice, Clarice, you don't want to see inside me. You think you do but you don't. You think you can heal me?
Days later...
Hannibal had finally justified to himself to go visit Clarice. No, he wasn't ready to talk yet, but he couldn't resist the open invitation.
Clarice slept soundly in her bed and Lecter sat and watched her peacefully. What was it with this girl, his girl as he was wont to think of her? He placed all his memories of her aside his memories of Mischa and it bothered him. He didn't want those memories to mingle, Mischa was buried in corners of his memory palace that were not supposed to mingle with the here and now. They were buried with the memories of a child Hannibal, a Hannibal that was allowed to feel freely and could weep about what had befallen him. These rooms had nothing to do with Hannibal the doctor, Hannibal the adult, Hannibal the man. ( Hannibal the cannibal...... )
Clarice must have woken at some point in his reverie because now he noticed her eyes fixed on him. He stared her down to the best of his ability, she didn't flinch. The quality he always admired in her, her fearlessness of him now disconcerted him. He wanted to make her feel fear. He needed it.
She raised her hand, no questions asked. He didn't know quite what to do, so he took the hand offered. She pulled him into bed with her. He acquiesced. Although he did find her quite attractive and he had yet to be with a woman since his incarceration, his desire did not rise. It never occurred to him. If he thought about it, it would not have seemed appropriate. Clarice wrapped herself around him. 'Thank you, Doctor, thank you.' She kissed his throat.
'Hannibal'. He wrapped his arms around her. 'Thank you, Hannibal'. He sighed audibly, much to his embarrassment, but Clarice made no sign of hearing except to place her ear over his heart. A few minutes later, she raised her head so her lips were next to his ear. 'Not ready to talk yet, dear?' Dear. He didn't miss the implication.
'Not yet', a whisper.
Clarice turned on her back, and for a moment, Hannibal felt rage. She WAS toying with him. She gently prodded him to turn so that he was draped over Clarice and his head was resting on her breast. She stoked his hair. 'I'm so glad you came, Hannibal, so glad.' Hannibal fell asleep, and for the first time in forever his lamb, his Mischa, did not wake him with her screams.
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'Well, Clarice, I know I said I wouldn't call on you, but I couldn't resist. Tell me, have the lambs stopped screaming?'
'What is this, quid pro quo again? You don't have a serial killer to deliver to me this time, Dr. Lecter.'
Playing his game right back at him was she? He wasn't quite prepared for that. 'That's my girl. Quid pro quo, you tell me things; I'll tell you things. What do you want now, Clarice? I'll give you clues to find me, perhaps? Mabye catching me will silence those lambs again, will it?'
'No, doctor, you tell me things, but not about capturing you. You tell me things about yourself.' She echoed his words back to him.
Hannibal felt a rage come over him. How dare she? Did she think this was a game? Did she think that he was someone she could toy with? He didn't think he could bring himself to harm her, true, but no one turned his games against him. There was silence for a while on the line. 'Are you considering my offer, doctor?'
'What makes you think I'd agree, Agent Starling? You think you can get inside MY head?'
'Now doctor, I'm supposed to give you control over me by baring my soul, yet you give nothing of yourself? It was you who proposed our little exchanges. You act so fearsome, but you are afraid to speak frankly about yourself to me?'
Hannibal's head spun. No, no, agent starling, don't.
'You think i tell you about my life and you figure out why I became the monster you see? Is that it, Starling? You figure me out and you then figure out how to protect the world from me? Capture the monster by knowing him?'
Silence.
Clarice spoke now, much softer. Tentative. 'Is that why you wanted to know about my personal life, doctor? Get inside my head in case you were ever up against me again? Did you want to gain some control over me? WAS it just a game? You could say that was the case, but I won't believe you. In the beginning I thought our -quid pro quo- sessions were about you gaining some twisted sense of control over me. When I went to see you in Memphis, all that changed. Why did you become a psychiatrist, Doctor? I think, for you, it is healing a psyche that stops YOUR lambs from screaming. It was in your eyes when I told you of my lamb and you thanked me.'
More silence.
'Why won't you let me help you with your lambs, Doctor? Have you EVER talked about them?'
'Hannibal?'
He was flabbergasted, trust his Clarice to do the truly unexpected and turn his life upside down. He felt himself retreating into the safe hallways of his memory palace. 'Clarice, what are you doing?' He sounded pained.
'Come see me, doctor, come see me. No calls to the FBI, nothing like that. Don't you know how torn I am? Everything I was taught tells me you are a monster, but everything in me tells me that you aren't, or at a least that you don't want to be. Come see me, doctor, and talk or don't talk if you aren't ready, but just come.'
Silence.
Softer still. 'Please'
Clarice hung up the phone. Hannibal was reeling. He alternated between outright rage and fear. Clarice, Clarice, you don't want to see inside me. You think you do but you don't. You think you can heal me?
Days later...
Hannibal had finally justified to himself to go visit Clarice. No, he wasn't ready to talk yet, but he couldn't resist the open invitation.
Clarice slept soundly in her bed and Lecter sat and watched her peacefully. What was it with this girl, his girl as he was wont to think of her? He placed all his memories of her aside his memories of Mischa and it bothered him. He didn't want those memories to mingle, Mischa was buried in corners of his memory palace that were not supposed to mingle with the here and now. They were buried with the memories of a child Hannibal, a Hannibal that was allowed to feel freely and could weep about what had befallen him. These rooms had nothing to do with Hannibal the doctor, Hannibal the adult, Hannibal the man. ( Hannibal the cannibal...... )
Clarice must have woken at some point in his reverie because now he noticed her eyes fixed on him. He stared her down to the best of his ability, she didn't flinch. The quality he always admired in her, her fearlessness of him now disconcerted him. He wanted to make her feel fear. He needed it.
She raised her hand, no questions asked. He didn't know quite what to do, so he took the hand offered. She pulled him into bed with her. He acquiesced. Although he did find her quite attractive and he had yet to be with a woman since his incarceration, his desire did not rise. It never occurred to him. If he thought about it, it would not have seemed appropriate. Clarice wrapped herself around him. 'Thank you, Doctor, thank you.' She kissed his throat.
'Hannibal'. He wrapped his arms around her. 'Thank you, Hannibal'. He sighed audibly, much to his embarrassment, but Clarice made no sign of hearing except to place her ear over his heart. A few minutes later, she raised her head so her lips were next to his ear. 'Not ready to talk yet, dear?' Dear. He didn't miss the implication.
'Not yet', a whisper.
Clarice turned on her back, and for a moment, Hannibal felt rage. She WAS toying with him. She gently prodded him to turn so that he was draped over Clarice and his head was resting on her breast. She stoked his hair. 'I'm so glad you came, Hannibal, so glad.' Hannibal fell asleep, and for the first time in forever his lamb, his Mischa, did not wake him with her screams.