Disclaimer and Author's Note: I know that the time lines may be off a little, but this idea bit me and I had to write it down or it would drive me into insanity. All characters used are property of Charles Adams and Thomas Harris. This is for fun only, and I do not plan to make any money from this. Enjoy! Feel free to read and review.
To one Hannibal Lecter, M.D. I know you do not know me, and I know that my sending this letter to you would be considered quite rude but I must admit to following your story in the National Tattler, along with your scant articles in Bon Appetite. The editorials were enlightening, but the recipes were my favorites, I must admit. I am not much of a chef myself, but I do enjoy food quite a bit. My grandmother is an excellent cook herself, and I relish her meals every day. Perhaps I can share some of the family recipes with you? But now I must pose a question to you, and I hope you will honor my curiosity with a honest answer. When preparing the ragout that you served to the Baltimore Philharmonic, consisting of what the authorities and the journalists believe to be Mr. Benjamin Raspail, what parts of him did you use? The sweet breads, the liver, the kidneys, or the brain? Personally, I would have done a little of all of them but like I mentioned before, I am not a chef. I am a mere girl of twelve, terribly fascinated with your plight (or at least, what I have been able to read of it.) They deserved it, they all did. Well, Raspail did, anyways; of that I am sure. He was souring the beauty of music with his attempts at flute playing, and you did the right thing by ridding the world of his idiocy. I cannot find much about the other victims, but I am sure they deserved it as much as he did. The media believed that their audiences were far too sensitive for such gory details, and perhaps they were right for doing so, but the forbidden fruit of wanting to know the truth is tormenting. But even if the other victims did not deserve it, I am sure that the finished product of the meal was well worth it. Again, forgive my boldness for sending you this random letter. I hope you are well and remain such in the days ahead. I remain your devoted fan. Sincerely, Wednesday Adams. P.S: Here is a picture of me with my brother. Yes, that is a real guillotine but unfortunately, my mother would not let me finish the job. Oh, the sorrow of being the eldest child. ~*~ Dear Miss Adams, Despite your worries, I did not take offense to your letter. In fact, I was quite pleased to get it. Compared to my other correspondents, though they are pleasant, yours was a breath of fresh air. You are obviously very high functioning for a twelve year old girl, and I was quite amused by your very blunt letter. I laughed for about an hour and had to answer some very awkward questions from Barney, one of the orderlies here in Maryland. But it is no trouble, so do not even think that it was a bother for As for the ragout, I actually used the sweet breads and the kidneys. I grilled them, sauteed them in a Cabernet wine sauce, and then served it to the board of the Baltimore Philharmonic with a nice Montrachet, which set me back quite a bit, let me tell you. Yes, I would like to have some of your grandmother's recipes. If they are anything like your use of language, then I think I am in for a treat. I have heard stories of your family's clan, and I am fascinated with the history of the Adams. Is it true that your aunt Loborgia was a witch, who danced naked in the square at Salem before they captured her and crushed her under a large boulder? I do hope we can keep writing back and forth. I, unlike some of the others at this asylum, am not a pedophile, so our corresponding should not cause any problems. I hope you too are well, as I am doing rather splendidly considering the circumstances. Sincerely, Hannibal Lecter, M.D. P.S: You are a darling child, and your brother is charming as well but if you are going to continue to play such dangerous games, then I suggest you sharpen that guillotine first; it looks a bit dull and a dull blade makes for sloppy executions.
Barney was just finishing going through the art set, making sure they were not trying to slip him weapons of some kind. He smiled kindly them both. "It is just procedure, Mrs. Adams, I assure you."
"Oh, it is quite all right." Mrs. Adams replied with an indulgent smile. "If we wanted to slip the Doctor something, you would not have found it anyways."
Barney looked worried at this cryptic remark, but he took it to be a rather strange form of humor from the gothic looking woman, beautiful in her statuesque features and tall, slender frame clad in black, form fitting velvet. She was a perfect vision of pale beauty, her daughter a younger but mirror image of her mother. "Right." He said suspiciously, before unlocking the gate doors for them. "Keep to the right. I have put two chairs out for you, and make sure you pass the objects through the food tray. Be polite, and you should be fine." He smiled at them as they both passed through the gates and began making their way silently down the hall. As they passed, they ignored the cat calls and wolf whistles that Mrs. Adams received but they got a shock from Multiple Miggs when he clambered to the bars of his cell.
"I will eat your daughter's pretty pussy." He sneered at Wednesday, who jerked back at his sudden appearance but otherwise, stayed calm. Never show fear, she heard her father's voice in her mind, and your enemies will respect you. Seeing that he did not scare the child, Miggs quickly got bored and went back to his own, insane mutterings.
When they reached the end of the hall, the plexiglass cell standing out vividly in the shade of the dungeon level of the Asylum, there were indeed two chairs set in front of the cell; one small and one larger. Standing in the middle of the cell, waiting for them with a charming smile on his small mouth and his maroon eyes shining, was the Doctor. "Ah, Mrs. Adams, I presume?" He said with a gentle nod. "I was not aware that you would be joining Miss Wednesday."
"I am sorry we were not able to tell you, Dr. Lecter, but Dr. Chilton did not give us time to send you a letter to alert you of his...hrm...request at a parental guardian being present. It was either today or never." Mrs. Adams said with a smile.
"We brought you some things, Doctor." Wednesday said, holding up her gifts with a very small, almost imperceptible smile on her lips but Dr. Lecter saw the smile in her very dark, almost black eyes. "And," She looked quickly around, making sure that no one was listening. "Mother has something special for you as well. Something Barney did not know about."
The monster tilted his head to the side, coming close to the meal tray. "You could get in trouble, you know." He soothed as he grinned playfully at the two of them. Mrs. Adams smiled back, taking the tape player and cassette from her daughter, tucking it amongst the papers (fine linen parchment, perfect for using charcoal and oil pastels on) and the small, wooden art set. She glided forward to the meal slider, setting the objects inside. His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath, catching her perfume on the air. He all but moaned at the thick, heady and earthy scent. It was 1000 by the House of Patou, scented with the rare osmanthus, from what he could tell. "You smell Heavenly, Mrs. Adams, if you do not mind me saying so."
"Oh, you like it?" Mrs. Adams replied with a smile. "My husband picked it out, long ago. He bought it for me for our first wedding anniversary."
"Before they were cursed with my level of darkness." Wednesday said simply, her voice expressionless; like she was merely stating a fact. Her bluntness made Dr. Lecter smile.
"Ah, but sometimes, the most beautiful things in this world are in the darkness, Meine Kleine. Look at the stars." He said with a smile, but his attention had been drawn by Mrs. Adams, who was kneeling down and lifting her skirt up to reveal a long, pale but shapely leg. He heard Miggs in the next cell, clamoring at her but he ignored it. Attached to her inner thigh was a small, silver made flask that had little ruby eyed dragons on it. She unstrapped it from her thigh and set it amongst the papers, before slamming the tray firmly into place as she smiled at him.
"I hope you like it." She said as he pulled the flask out first and uncorked it, taking a deep smell. "It is an old vintage from our wine cellar. I think it is a 1965, Batard Montrachet but I could be wrong. Gomez is the wine person, not me." She then took the offered seat, Wednesday staying standing by the cell as she watched the Doctor drink deeply from the flask after smelling it. He let it settle on his tongue, closing his eyes in pleasure.
"Is it good?" Wednesday asked. "Father won't let me have wine yet. He says it will stir lusts in me that is not ready to bloom yet." There was a mild tone of bitterness to her voice that made the monster smile at the youngster.
"And he is right. But yes, it is very good. You and your mother are spoiling me." He said with a wink before going back to perusing what else they had brought him. "Ah, not only did you give me a brief taste of wine but also a new art set with paper and some music! And here I thought I was lucky just to see your beautiful mother, only for a little while. It is obvious where you get your looks." He looked at Mrs. Adams, who smiled in a smooth and come hither manner. "Your husband is a lucky man."
"Thank you for saying so. He also says the same."
Wednesday was looking at the other drawings on the wall behind him. They looked old, like he had not had fresh paper in some time. "Isn't that the Duomo? In Florence?" She asked, pointing to the one behind him.
"Ah," The monster turned and looked at the picture she was pointing to. "Yes, it is. You have a sharp eye, Miss Wednesday." He said with a smile as he turned back to her.
"I have only ever seen that place in books. I hope to go there some day, and see the place where Pazzi was hanged." Wednesday said with a rather demented smile, but the monster did not see anything wrong with the child. She seemed perfectly normal to him, with tastes very similar to his own and it intrigued him. "Was his bowels out or in?" She asked, tilting her head to the side. "My books are vague about it."
"They were out. They spilled onto the pavement below, amidst the crowds of people that watched as it happened." Dr. Lecter said promptly as he took another drink from the flask, emptying it and slipping it back into the tray for Mrs. Adams to fetch, which she did and attached back to her leg. He had gotten a good sniff of her flesh as it clung to the metal. It smelled of dirt, like from a graveyard mixed with the beautiful scent of her perfume.
"Amazing. Do you think I could find some old pictures of that, Mother?" Wednesday asked as she looked at the stately Mrs. Adams, poised in a perfect posture as she sat in her chair. She smiled indulgently at her daughter.
"Anything is possible, dearest heart." She replied.
Wednesday seemed pleased with this and looked back at the Doctor, who was humming vaguely to himself. "What is that you are singing?" She asked, tilting her head to the side like a curious bird and made the monster smile again. This was a nice visit, as nice as the visit from Agent Starling but in a different way. This appealed to his noble breeding, the two high born ladies (one younger then the other, yes) impeccable in their manners.
"It is an old lullaby from my childhood. It is called Das Männlein im Walde. Would you like to hear it?" He asked.
"Yes. I would." Wednesday replied, finally taking her own seat as she listened to the doctor sing the little ditty.
Ein Männlein steht im Walde ganz still und stumm,
Es hat von lauter Purpur ein Mäntlein um.
Sagt, wer mag das Männlein sein,
Das da steht im Wald allein
Mit dem purpurroten Mäntelein.Once he was finished, Mrs. Adams clapped for him with relish. "Ah, splendide, médecin!" She all but cooed with a soft smile on her face and Wednesday seemed to be repeating the words to herself in a low murmur. They spent a few more minutes talking about this and that, before Mrs. Adams said that it was getting late and they had a long drive ahead of them, so they had to cut the visit short. Just before they left, though, the monster asked a rather bold question; like he had done with Agent Starling.
"Miggs hissed something to you as you came in, Mrs. Adams, what was it? If you don't want me knowing, then you don't have to tell me but I am terribly curious."
Mrs. Adams frowned a bit. "He said 'I will eat your daughter's pretty pussy." She replied, the dirty word coming out awkwardly on her voice and Wednesday broke out, her voice empty but her eyes flaring with the passion of hatred for Multiple Miggs.
"I will see his bowels hang from his throat for that remark."
"Wednesday!" Mrs. Adams said crossly. "Don't make promises you can't keep. It's very untoward of you."
"No, she is right." Dr. Lecter said ominously as he looked at the wall that separated him from the insane man next door. "Such words are not proper for a young lady to hear. He will suffer for it, I assure you." He gave a bright smile, making Wednesday smile back. Mrs. Adams smiled gently before speaking.
"You spoil her with such fantasies, Dr. Lecter. She will be up all night now, drawing pictures of you eating Miggs."
"After all the hospital food he has eaten, I doubt I would want to dine on him." Dr. Lecter said with a light smirk. They soon said their goodbyes and he watched them leave, Wednesday turning to look back at him briefly as she walked and he lifted his hand in a gentle wave after her. Once they were gone, he began the tedious but amusing task of whispering to Miggs, eagerly urging him to swallow his own tongue; which he did later that night.
When Starling got the news of Miggs' death, Chilton did not put the demise of Miggs and the strange visit of the Adams women together. So, Starling did not know of it happening and probably never would.