Note: My slightly belated Valentine's Day fic. Half my brain is screaming: 'Don't do another story, you don't need yet another one!' The other half was screaming the opposite - and I'm sure you can guess which half won. I had this idea a while ago, and kept playing around with it - besides, I've wanted to do a romantic story for ages, so I couldn't resist! And it's a nice break from my Revenant stories to boot! The title itself, is one of the most common fan fiction titles 'Fire and Ice', however it translates as 'Flame and Snow' which I thought sounded nicer. Ardeur also has a duel meaning - as well as flame, it can mean 'to consume', so has romantic connotations as well. The story follows on from the novel canon.
ARDEUR ET NEIGE
a Hannibal fanfic by JetNoir
CHAPTER ONE: The Obsidian Blade
Fire and Ice.
Flame and Snow.
They are opposites, differing elements - both as powerful as the other - each with the ability to cancel the other one out.
Fire might melt ice, but the resulting flood would extinguish the flames, and the remaining water would seep away into the earth, and vanish forever.
Clarice Starling and Dr Hannibal Lecter are opposites, bound together by love, and need.
Violence is no longer an immediate part of their lives; though it forever haunts them, a shadow on their souls.
--
Rouen
Hannibal Lecter raised his hand, and wiped sweat beading on his brow.
"Good," he said, smiling slightly, "you really are becoming quite good."
"Well it isn't easy, I can tell you that," sighed former Special Agent Clarice Starling, "and your are a cruel taskmaster!"
"Moi?" smiled Hannibal, mock innocence appearing in his maroon eyes.
"You," said Clarice, "would you like to go again?"
Hannibal smiled, and adjusted his sword, raising it slowly.
"En garde," he whispered, as Clarice got ready. Suddenly, before she had raised her own sword, he struck, sword lunging outwards. Clarice parried clumsily, her blade being knocked downwards. In anger, she overreached, catching Hannibal by surprise, driving him to the defensive. She struck three more times, before Hannibal nimble darted back, dodged a sweep, and while Clarice tried to recover after swinging to far, Hannibal used the flat of his blade to knock the sword from Clarice's hand.
"Ow!" she cried, rubbing her wrist furiously, and stooping to pick up the sword…but was stopped by Hannibal, who held his sword to her throat.
"You know," he said, "if this were real, you could be dead by now."
"Thanks for rubbing it in my face," she murmured, "again?"
"Why not?"
--
Washington, D.C.
Even though it was the middle of the day, the room was almost completely dark. The curtains were drawn tighter than Ebenezer Scrooge's wallet.
The woman, who was of investigate age, sat in the middle of the bed, legs crossed, glasses covering her eyes. In her lap was a long piece of black cloth, which she carefully unfolded. Within the cloth was an object so dark, it put the cheap darkness of the night to shame. It was shaped like a knife, and seemed so brittle that a single breath might shatter it into a million pieces.
With another cloth - of the same black cloth that covered the blade - she carefully began to clean it.
--
Rouen
With a painful scream, Clarice brought her sword down with a clash that sent sparks flying. She dropped the sword, but Hannibal barely kept his grip, down on one knee, the sword above his head.
"Fine," Clarice grumbled, "you win. Are you going to propose now?"
"No," smiled Hannibal, placing his sword carefully on the floor, "but I do get to claim my prize."
"Is that all I am to you?" asked Clarice, "A prize?"
"Maybe," he said, raising from the floor, and taking her in his arms.
He kissed her delicately, which she responded to in full, sighing deeply and contentedly. Slyly, he swept his leg out, knocking her over, but before she fell, he grabbed her, and scooped her up in his arms. Leaning over he kissed her cheek, and slowly walked out the room, Clarice reaching out, and switching out the light. Hannibal continued, to the circular staircase and climbed up them.
When at the top, he looked down at Clarice and smiled: "So how tired are you?"
"Fairly tired," said Clarice.
"Really tired?" he asked.
"Not quite," she grinned.
Opening the door to the bedroom, he slid inside, and kicked the door shut behind him.
--
Washington, D.C.
When the woman had finished polishing the blade, it didn't look shiny, in fact it seemed the opposite, as if it sucked all the light in the world into it.
She smiled, ever so slightly, and wrapped the blade up. She quickly looked at her watch (it was glow-in-the-dark), and whispered to herself: "It's time."
Getting up off the bed, she slid the knife into the hotel room safe. She shut the door, and slid the combination lock round.
She pulled on a coat, slipped it round her shoulders, opened the door - flooding the room with light - and walked into the corridor.
--
Rouen
Laying next to one another, covers and duvets wrapped around their bodies, Hannibal and Clarice kissed gently.
"You know," said Clarice, "both of us are so unique. I mean that everyone is unique…but both of us have tasted human flesh, and here we are, our lips intertwined."
"Lips intertwined…amongst other things. But do you wish to bring cannibalism into our love-lives?"
"Well not really. But we are social outcasts. Not that I regret it! But we have isolated ourselves."
"Only in truth and identity. Mr and Mrs Rice are making quite a stir in our social circles."
"We still both crave that…a sort of celebrity, or rather recognition within our peer group. Yet do we have peers."
"So you think we are peerless? Is there a little arrogance in that statement?" he said.
"Are you calling me arrogant?"
"Alright, not arrogant. Hmmm, do we have to talk about this now?"
"Your previous life. Is there anything you miss?"
"The satisfaction of destroying criminals."
"But you are a criminal. Of course, we do not see it as that. The governments of the world would destroy us both in less than a heartbeat if they could."
"I know. I miss Ardelia though. My one true friend. And I can never see her. For the rest of time.
--
J. Edgar Hoover Building; Washington, D.C.
It had been a long day, and the receptionist was very tired. There had been the usual amount of crank calls, and paperwork. Long day.
She turned as the revolving doors swirled, and a woman, with long brown hair - tied in a ponytail - came in, a long coat covering her. She came through the metal detectors clean, so the guards let her pass.
The woman walked towards the receptionist, face grim.
"Hello," the woman said to the receptionist, "I would like to speak to Special Agent Ardelia Mapp. Urgent business."
"Could I please take your name?" the receptionist asked.
"Certainly. My name is Marie LeCroix."
The receptionist looked into Marie's startling maroon eyes, and started to dial the phone.
Note: Firstly, I must apologise, as the ending echoes Penelope S Cartwright's Lies And Misunderstandings. Sorry, Penelope, though I think our stories are heading in different directions. If not then I promise to re-write! I hope you enjoyed this, 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 without my express written permission. Thankyou!
JetNoir