"What's say we call on an old friend Clarice?" Dr Lecter had the fancy to see how Will Graham was fairing. They were passing through Miami on their way to back to South America, and it would be terribly rude of them not to call in while they were in the vicinity.
xxx
A copy of the National Tattler sat on Will Graham's coffee table. Will Graham himself sat in an old arm chair by the coffee table, sleeping off his latest bottle of whiskey. The Tattler was on his coffee table because he subscribed to it. He subscribed to the Tattler to punish himself. He should never have helped Jack Crawford, he'd lost Molly because of it, the Tattler was a reminder of his failures.
In the darkness of his small apartment Graham stirred from his alcohol induced slumber. His eyes landed on the dog-eared copy of the trashy tabloid, on Special Agent Clarice Starling's pretty face. They'd run yet another story on the missing agent, wild theories about her falling madly in love with 'Hannibal the Cannibal' and running off to some exotic location with him. This month they were in Vienna. Graham doubted it, he thought it more likely what was left of her was rotting in a basement somewhere. Not dissimilar to his own existence he supposed. He picked up the empty bottle from the table, holding it up in front of his face and tilting it to watch the last amber drops roll around the bottom. Damn, he'd need to go out to get more. It wasn't something Graham liked to do, looking the way he did. He became aware of a presence in the room. He lowered the bottle to see a woman standing before him. Will Graham was used to seeing things, so the appearance of a dead woman in his apartment in itself didn't bother him. It was the who that concerned him. It was Clarice Starling. Perhaps it was time to give himself a break and lay off the Tattler for a while. He caught a whiff of almond soap as she came closer, she was real. Clarice Starling stood before him. She looked different to her picture, her once brown hair was now blonde and she held herself differently, she oozed confidence, and was possessed of a stillness he'd seen once before.
"Hello Mr Graham," she said politely, extending her hand towards him, "I'm Clarice Starling." He took her hand in his and shook it, it was warm and strong.
"The papers said you were alive but I didn't believe it."
"Hannibal would never hurt me, would you Hannibal?"
"Not on purpose Clarice," came the doctors metallic voice from the door way. Will Graham turned his head slowly to look at the doctor. "Hello Will." It was the first time since he'd caught the doctor that he'd seen him outside a cell. Laughter bubbled up in Will Graham's throat and he was powerless against its escape. It was an interesting reaction Dr Lecter observed.
"Would you like to share what you find so amusing?" There was no offense in the doctor's tone, he simply wished to know.
"They were right," Graham managed to say.
"Who was right Will?" The doctor asked patiently and politely.
"Them," Graham said, pointing to the tabloid on the coffee table. The doctor crossed the room to stand beside Starling and looked down at the magazine.
"I'm surprised at you Will," the doctor said, taking on a condescending tone, "reading this garbage." The doctor stooped down and plucked the offending magazine from the table. "Which part were they right about Will?" he asked, flipping through the pages.
"The part about Agent Starling running off with you. I was sure you'd killed her."
"Losing your touch are you Will?"
"It's much too late for that."
"Do you mind if I turn the light on Will? It's rather gloomy in here. Don't worry about your face," the doctor went on as he moved towards the light switch, "Clarice and I were both subjected to gazing upon Mason Verger, yours can't be that bad." The doctor flicked the switch. "There, you see? That's much better, now we can all see each other properly." Will Graham had never been traditionally good looking but he had certainly been attractive, and Dr Lecter saw it was still the case. No one could pass him in the street and not be compelled to stare. A long, sunken scar dominated the left side of his face. It had healed in such a way that the bottom lid of his left eye had been pulled down slightly, making his left eye frightful. The left side of his mouth was stretched in a peculiar way, making it the grotesque parody of a smile. His deformity was obviously the result of injury, everyone who looked at him must wonder about what had happened. The right side of his face was untouched by the injury, but time and Graham's careless lifestyle had taken their toll. Something however still dwelt there, something that heightened the pity of those who saw him, because it was obvious what he might have been. Dr Lecter was thoroughly satisfied with Dolarhyde's work.
"You've had your look, now kill me or get out." Graham was sick of being stared at, he'd endured years of it. He wasn't particularly angry at the doctor for causing his downfall, Graham's ruin was so complete that he was past all that, he just wanted to be left alone.
"No need to get upset Will. Tit for tat," Dr Lecter said conversationally, "you ruin my life, I ruin yours. Though I must say..." and here Dr Lecter paused to look about the shabby, unkempt room, "I did a better job of it."
"Hannibal," Starling chastised lightly.
"You're right Clarice, that wasn't very kind of me. We should treat Will to a nice meal. What do you say Will? We'll take you out to the finest restaurant in Miami." Graham's reply was to glare at the doctor. "No? Maybe you'd rather be on the menu than selecting from it?" The doctor had no intention of eating Will Graham. Ending his sorry state would be far less amusing than witnessing it, but that didn't mean he couldn't tease the brooding empath a little. "Come come Will, you'd best clean up before we go, I'm not sure they'll let you in the door smelling like that. You go take a shower and I'll make the reservation."
"Hannibal, are you sure we have the time?" The doctor glanced at his fine watch.
"I'm afraid you're right Clarice, we are running rather short of it. I'm sorry Will, perhaps if you're ever in our neighbourhood we can dine with you then."
"And which neighbourhood would that be?" Graham questioned, something of the lawman flaring up for a fleeting moment from the depths of his ruined spirit.
"Tsk, tsk Will, you are losing your touch. But I'll tell you what. We'll drop you a line once we get there."
xxx
Clarice Starling climbed into the thousand dollar rust bucket they'd bought for their brief trip to the States, in her thousand dollar shoes. She turned to the man in the driver's seat, his maroon eyes glowing with delight.
"Satisfied my love?"
"Very."