Well Dayum…I honestly was not expecting any more favorites, followers or reviews. 0.0
Oh My God! Did anybody else see the new Hannibal season 3 TRAILER! That was the best two minutes of my life! *Currently in Heaven*
SilentTelepath: Yes, it took me a while to think about how to have Will and Phoenix meet. I wasn't sure if I got his personality down. I just had to go with the flow really. Hannibal? Well I don't know how they will meet (actually I do but I can't tell you :3 ) but I can say that she will make an impression on him. Will it be a good or bad one? Can't say. *shrug*
Woahheythere: yep! Gotta love Clarice's cynicism. Hannibal will be one of the harder characters to portray…you can never tell what goes up in that mind of his. Piper is actually based of a family friend. She really is a spunky woman. Eldon Stammets is creepy, but not as creepy as our friendly neighborhood Cannibal. if you truly pay attention to his facial expressions and body language. You can tell a lot about a person just from that—especially their habits.
OrangeBears: Whoa. Make sure that you hold on! I don't want you fall off the edge of your seat. Trust me, I've done that so many times that my bum hurts for days after one incident…didn't help that I landed on my charger. Blood was shed that day. :/
Sandradee27: I like your name. :D That's actually my real name btw. Not the "dee"and numbers of course. Lolz.
Name23243: Here you go! It might be a while til my next chappie.
Annabelle: Awww. Thanks! I can feel the love!
DeityOfDeadlyRose: Hannibal and Phoenix will meet. Just hold on! One more after this chapter to go! XXDDD
Thank you so much to my followers, faves, and reviewers! You're the best!
Okay, so I think that my story is going into AU territory…maybe it has been for a while…I don't really know, but we'll see.
Chapter Nine: ENteR SAnDmAN
"I miss Rosemary." I whined to my roommate. We were in the library studying until I began talking. Luckily, the librarian was too busy with other students to pay attention to me about being quiet. Crystal put her book down.
"Who's Rosemary?"
"My little sister."
"What about your brother?"
"Nope. He is an evil child."
"He can't be that-"
"He sabotaged my food giving me diarrhea, then dyed my hair PINK, followed by changing my body soap into paint and ended up with GREEN skin…I was called the female Hulk for three weeks until everything started to wash out." My hands covered my face as I slammed my head on the table. I talked into the table, mumbling about how I didn't want to see my brother when I visit for Christmas.
"Well…you do have your sister, Rosemary." I lifted my head up to stare at her.
"So long as he hasn't corrupted her innocent mind while I've been gone. I can at least bond with her when our parents take us to the amusement park."
"Ooooh! Which one?"
I shrugged. "I haven't got a clue."
Who would have thought that I died on a ride?
9999999
"Hello Sweetie."
I turned around to face the mirror with the bag of medicine in my hand. "Clarice."
"I wouldn't take those if I were you. Never know if Stammets tampered with anything, even if you're not diabetic. Call Alana and tell her that it looks like someone altered the seal. Tell her that you're paranoid about your medication—which we are. Ask her if she can change the destination from where you get your prescription from."
"Alright, but I'll do it in the morning. I need my rest."
Three days went by and I met up with Will again, this time at my house. When he walked in, Will spotted my medication on the counter of my kitchen. Told me to be weary of my pills. He talked to me about a certain case that had to do with fungus, but not too much detail. I already knew about Stammets, but I didn't tell him. It would seem suspicious for me to recommend where to look and who is a suspect that I am technically not supposed to know.
I made coffee and hot chocolate for us. We took a seat at the round kitchen table by the window.
"Have you ever felt like the whole world is against you? When all that you want to do is be left alone with peace and quiet, yet there's always something that pulls you back into the real world? I do." I stared at my cup of hot chocolate. Coffee is very bad for me, I end up getting muscle spasms and can't stop moving. I have to drink a lot of water to dilute it, needless to say the toilet was my friend for that entire day when I found out the hard way.
"The world is full of moments that cannot be explained." Will took a sip and put more sugar in his coffee. "It's how the world works. Unfortunately, people are against me. Their minds—I see too much. I can't differentiate who I am and get lost at times." Will responds to my question. "I'm not exactly the right person to ask. My views are biased." I knew he was referring to his life experience with being able to tell of people's darkest secrets. Always seeing the person's worst and not the best.
"Clarice Starling." Might as well start with the trust issue.
"Hm?"
"My name, it's Clarice Starling." I sipped out of my Batman mug. Mmm, hot chocolate.
He smirked and held his coffee towards himself to drink it and put it back down on the table. "Will Graham." He didn't wear his glasses around me. Why? Because he couldn't see into my eyes with the black shades that I always wear to hide my eyes. We understood what it meant to be vulnerable, to be able to read people without meaning to. His was more mental, mine was physical. Will is just a lot better at profiling than me. He sees you and what you truly are almost instantaneously. I can only get an outline and start to build on it, resulting in me taking longer to build a profile of the person.
"Okay, William," I teased with a smile, "what are you planning to do on this bright and sunny morning?" He rolled his eyes at me and looked out of the window into the obvious weather of pouring rain and started talking about Abigail and her hopes—he didn't mention her name. I knew though.
"…What do you hope to accomplish in the future, Phoenix?" I didn't listen to what he said in the beginning and just barely heard the end. He started to drink his coffee.
I shrugged, "Get a yellow minion, survive Baltimore, and not get eaten by a cannibal."
His head whipped to the side and spit out his coffee to avoid any hitting me. Then his gaze slowly went to my face. "…" We stared at each other at what felt like minutes, but it was really a few seconds until I got his meaning.
"Ohhhhhhh. You mean you were serious?"
His hand covered his face and rubbed his eyes, "Sometimes I wonder what goes on—scratch that. I really don't want to know how you think."
"Trust me Will. You don't."
"How do you know about the cannibalism that's going around right now?"
My eyebrow arched. "I can read people too Will. You can't imagine the amount of cannibals that there are when you walk around in a populated area like this." Most of them go to Demetri's and Timothy to get human meat—easiest access is the Black Market. Apparently in the show Hannibal, the writers only focused on one cannibal. There's literally a bunch of people who are cannibals in the east coast but aren't as flashy as Hannibal. They like to be on the down low.
Will's forehead creased in annoyance. "I'll deal with it when the time comes, for now I just don't want to think about it."
"You have a rare way of thinking and no offense, but that imagination of yours is something truly remarkable."
"What? You mean the fact that I can become a serial killer and see and feel what kind of monster I can become?" By the bitter tone of his voice, the profile didn't want to talk about his mind.
I snorted. "No. The fact that even though this ability is obviously killing you so slowly," I motioned to his constant rubbing of his face and bags under his eyes, "you still do it to save others. It's not out of sense of responsibility though. It's out of guilt and fear of what you think you will become if you don't save those people and prove to yourself that Will Graham is still Will Graham. You do not want to become a monster." I relaxed into my chair and took off my shades slowly and hesitant to look at Will.
He shifted in his seat, even more uncomfortable as I tried to make eye contact with him. "A monster cannot feel guilt, fear, pain, love, anger, etc. You experience all of these things." I smiled at him as his eyes flickered to my left eye and back down. "Look up an incident with 'Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane' it's dated back a few months ago. You know what I am capable of, but I doubt you know the whole story from our first encounter with each other. Able to read me like a book and have a sense of connection to me because we are similar, but not equal." I chewed on my lower lip, hoping that I wasn't moving revealing everything about my past too quickly. "There's an argument about the eyes being the window to the soul, and in your case, it is proven true." I stood up putting my shades back on. "If anyone is the monster here, it's me. Don't worry, you're not crazy like me." I hope that you don't follow the path that Hannibal has already made for you.
My personality flipped and went back to cheerful, "Before I forget, here's an invitation to my work. It's a restaurant connected to a museum. Come whenever you'd like." I gave him what my co-workers say "freebies". I was able to get some for me, Alana, and my new BFF—Will. Oh crap I'm starting to sound like Demetri. "OH! By the way, I am not cleaning up the coffee that you spit on the floor." I tossed a rag at his face. He was most certainly not amused.
99999999
"Alanaaaaa. Don't do this to meeeee. I thought I was your favorite patient." I sulked as Alana told me the news of her not being able to see me anymore and referring me to a different Psychiatrist.
"Look, it's not that I don't want to leave, you've been making vast progress and you don't need me anymore to check up on you all the time. Besides, you have Loki and Thor to keep you company. Now you only require a monthly checkup. Besides, I'm referring you to a friend of mine." I froze at the implicit meaning of friend and psychiatrist…oh HELL no. I swallowed slowly.
"When you mean friend…" I trailed off, praying to the lord that it was not possible.
"Dr. Hannibal Lecter." I'm pretty sure I died.
"Is there someone else you can refer me to?"
"You can always go back to Chilton?"
"Hmmm, let me see. Go with the one whot will manipulate your mind to think you're a serial killer he can use to increase his fame or go with the one who eats the rude but incredibly delicious to look at…hard decision to make."
Uhhhh, is there a third option that involves me keeping my sanity and life?
"Mmmmm. No."
"I think I'll take my chances with the cannibal." I mumbled to myself.
"Hmm? You say something Phoenix?"
"I said I think I'll take my chances with Hannibal." I deadpanned.
"Good, I know how hard it is for you to feel comfortable with new people—
"Hey! I resent that! You clicked with Will…though it's probably because the both of you bond about killing people through psychopaths."
-and I want you to be comfortable with him before you actually start having sessions with Hannibal. So you are officially going to one of his dinners, invited by me of course. Though it will have to be when we're both free at a later date down the road."
Wait. Isn't that rude? Inviting someone without a heads-up first?
"What do you know, haven't met the guy and we're already going to die."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" I hesitantly asked.
"Don't worry Phoenix, now what were you telling me about your workplace?" Oh right, the reason I asked Alana to come over to my house in the first place.
"Oh! I need more formal clothes for the 'elite' that I'm going to be showing around the museum."
"Hmm. I think I might be able to help you out with that. First, we have to drop by the hospital, there's some paperwork that I have to fill out for a new patient of mine."
"This patient wouldn't be the reason that you're dumping me are you?" My eyes narrowed at Alana and stared at her.
She only smiled and walked out of my house.
A dark cloud hung over me in the car, on the way to the hospital.
Turns out, we went to a hospital that specializes in chemotherapy. Alana's new patient was a twenty year old man who just lost his leg to cancer. I sat in the waiting room reading health magazines until I had to use the bathroom. I looked up at the signs as they pointed where the restrooms were. I pushed open the woman's bathroom and saw a woman crying.
She wasn't sobbing, or throwing tantrums, the tears just kept coming. Blotched eyes stared into the mirror with her chanting, "Do I tell him?"
"Are you alright ma'am?" Her head turned to look at me.
"I—uh. Ahem, yes of course." She cleared her throat and wiped away her tears.
I was able to get a better look at her. She was, in every sense of the word, beautiful. Strong and independent was what I was getting from her stance. The way she held herself was like she would rule the world with an iron fist if given the chance, her posture screamed stubborn.
Her crying and the fact of what type of hospital we were in didn't give me much of a challenge to figure out the reason she was crying. Cancer. The dark skinned woman just stared at me, and I her. She didn't want my pity, didn't want to tell anyone because they would not treat her the same. The dark skinned beauty inhaled and exhaled with her eyes closed and opened them. The demeanor changed and she was a bit motherly. Her eyes are what pulled me in.
I looked down, "I apologize for staring."
She gave me a sad smile and started to walk out of the bathroom as I kept my gaze to her back through the mirror— until Clarice whispered into my thoughts.
"Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou are not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou'art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy'or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die." (1)
Clarice stopped reciting the poem in my head and I made eye contact with the woman again. She walked out as I looked at the closed door. I was surprised that Clarice knew poetry. I turned back to the now empty bathroom and looked at the mirrors to see whose body I was sharing with.
"Clarice?"
"Hm?" She looked so solemn.
"Why did you say that?" In my head? I was confused, because for a moment, I thought Clarice was about to say it out loud to the woman.
I saw Clarice shrug, "What a person wants and what a person needs are two entirely different things." We both knew that the woman needed comfort, but she didn't want it.
Clarice points to a stall, "Now hurry the fuck up! I have to pee!" I wanted to hit my head against the wall. Here I thought she knew when we were having a touching moment.
999999
A Few Weeks Later
I haven't seen Will in a while. Not since our last heart to heart. I think I scared him away. I hope not. Loki and Thor actually miss him…me too actually. I was going to make him my partner in crime. Or maybe it's because of the news report last night about Abigail Hobbs going to her home and protestors calling for justice…that means Abigail already killed Nicholas Boyle. As selfish as that sounds, I hope he's not visiting me because of Abigail.
"Mama Piper." I looked to my left and right, trying to find the person who usually takes the back tables. The restaurant remained closed and empty until we opened in an hour. Entering the clean white marble kitchens I started to organize the plates as one of the girls handed me them to place the plates at the side.
"Yeah Sug?" I'm never going to get tired of her sassiness.
"What happened to Joseph?" Tall skinny white guy with blonde hair. He started working in the restaurant area with us two weeks ago.
"Joseph? OH! I forgot to tell ya'll" She chuckled until her expression turned serious "…He dead." Piper went on her way.
I dropped the plates on the ground with my mouth open in shock. "Smoooooth Phoenix."
"Clarice! Ya better not be breakin' those plates, ya hear! Lord knows how expensive they are." She mumbled and acted like she didn't just tell the staff that Joseph died. Why it is that no one else is reacting the same way about Joseph?
"Mama Piper, you're gonna break our little Clarice at this rate." Molly hung her arm over my shoulder and shifted her weight on me. She looked a little bit stoned. "If it makes you feel any better, it's because he was actually an undercover journalist."
"What would he have to write about?" Why would they kill him for writing a story?
"Well, in case you haven't noticed, we work with the museum, correct?"
I nodded slowly.
"And that a certain friend of yours is good at causing destruction who decided you would be good here. Have you not noticed how our staff isn't quite the sane bunch?"
I repeated the action.
"Well, we all have backgrounds with less than noble intentions." She pushed me toward Mama Piper.
"Look child, you name the crime, we've broken it. If someone wants to dig up dirt on us and expose us—they dead. By yours truly." Piper replied while looking at her nails as if taking the credit and wanting me to bow down to her.
"Mama Piper," Molly arched an eyebrow. "We both know it isn't you that hires or does the hits. You're getting old."
"Wha'cha say Molly?" Mama Piper started the blender that magically came from nowhere. "I CAN'T HEAR YOU OVER THE LOUD BLENDER!"
I swore I saw Molly want to face palm so badly, she resisted the urge to do so.
"Anyways, once we found out that Demetri found us a person from Baltimore hospital for the Criminally Insane—you— we scored. Now we have a variety of people."
"Variety?" I'm starting to wonder, maybe you don't attract the insane… maybe you try to find the crazy people?"
Mama Piper turned off the blender, "Yes. We've got our assassins, Molly, Linda and I, though unfortunately in my age, can no longer participate. We have our hackers, terrorists, drug dealers, and I think we have our escape artists…oh! We also have you. Our little crazy person. All one big fucked up family."
"…I think I'm starting to see a pattern here. It explains why there are so many deaths in this particular job setting."
"Now hurry up and get to the tables. Your shift is only two hours this time. The rest is going to be escorting them rich people around the museum."
Why can't I just have a normal environment?
"You're not normal in the first place. You have me talking to you in your little noggin."
Hmm. Touché.
"Just listen to the ex-assassin lady and we will get out of this alive."
Sounds like a plan.
"Yes Mama Piper."
"Oh, one more thing Clarice!"
"Yes?"
"Demetri sent me a message, saying that you owe him a favor for your job, car, and phone. He needs you to 'befriend' his next contact for him. It's today when you give the tour."
"Does he have a picture of this person?" I almost forgot about his little condition.
Her head nodded no and smirked. "You're dealing with the Black Market sug. You don't find them. They find you."
One hundred and nineteen tables later, I end up getting dressed into my more elegant outfit. I wore plain black slacks, low heels, and a black blazer over a red buttoned up shirt. I didn't feel like putting my hair up, so I let it down.
There are certain unsaid rules when it comes to the elite…they don't know their history. They just look interested, but really they show off their money by throwing it at each other's faces. Rule number one: do not ask the rich questions. They will make you feel insignificant and fire you in an instant. Rule number two: the customer is always…right. As much as it pains me, it must be done.
I could go on forever about the rules but it will have to do for now. "As we see here in Raphael's School of Athens, was painted during the High Renaissance period. We can see Roman and Greek influences in the background such as the Greek statues of Apollo and Athena, and Roman barreled vaults as they start to become smaller due to the vanishing point between Plato's and Aristotle's head—the central figures of this painting. Plato is pointing toward the ground as Aristotle points to the sky. This represents Neo-Platonic thought. The—"
"Excuse me!"
I was interrupted the eighth time today by the same person today. His voice was so stuck up that I wanted him to shut up and if that didn't work, put duct tape on his mouth.
Duct tape fixes everything.
"Except relationships."
Yes Clarice, everything except relationships.
"Why are you showing us this? Can't I just give you the money and leave?"
You asshole. There are people here who actually enjoy this.
"People like you?"
ABSO-FRIGGIN-LUTELY!
I already answered this guy's question all the other seven times. My answer is not going to magically change.
While that was going on in my head, I was smiling at said man—trying not to let my anger get the best of me—and calmly said the same thing. "If you have a problem with reading the contract that you signed about giving charity and participating in these tours, then take it up with the people who came up with the contract."
Basically, if you wanted to look good and intelligent in Virginia, give to charity's and look smart. Apparently this guy didn't read the fine print about being wealthy along with the do's and don'ts. If you don't like charity and state it out loud to the other elite, they will take you down. Being elite is all about the image. Once they find out you don't like giving to charity, they give that information to the journalists, and make a mockery out of you and start saying nasty stuff about you. Their image goes up, while yours suffers under the public eye.
People make their cliques and its high school all over again. I never understood why they take people down if everyone in their group were basically filthy rich. Did they want to run for president or something? I'm pretty sure people do that here too…who's the president of the U.S. in this world anyway?
"Anyways, as I was saying…" I concluded the tour with a few more paintings before ending it at that.
Or…at least I thought it would end until someone came up to me. "Excuse me miss. Might I have a word with you?"
The woman was dressed in a long black dress with elbow long gloves. Her black hair cut to a bob. The shape of the face reminded me of a mouse of sort. "Yes, of course. Did you need something?"
She chuckled lightly. "Demetri did not prepare you did he?"
My face turned red. "Uhh…" "Yeah, real intelligent reply there."
"Walk with me dear." She took my arm as we walked around a different time period of art. The Roman era. "Usually, when Demetri sends someone to do his dirty work, the people he surrounds himself with are dumb bimbos and have absolutely no idea of what they are doing." She sighed sadly, "That last blonde woman had to go. She was so rude to my friend, she simply had to be cut off." Oh. Now I know who killed off the person who used to do my job. "But not you dearie. You're so full of life and so patient, even with that snob that interrupted you so many times." Amen to that, lady.
"I'm sorry, all I know is that Demetri wanted us to meet, but what is your name if you don't mind me asking?"
"So sorry sweetie. Here I am rambling and I've not yet introduced myself. You may call me Mrs. Komeda." She patted my hand and walked away from me to observe one of the Roman sculptures.
My whole body went rigid and stopped following her. I blinked for a few moments, not believing for a moment that this small skinny woman could be a contact that Demetri needed for the Black Market. I regained my composure and stood next to her. "Why are you here if you have a certain distaste for Demetri?"
"I like to expand. I honestly wasn't going to show up, but then I saw just how you presented yourself. You know your art, and I absolutely love the arts. As long as Demetri keeps you around, I will do business with him. You have no idea how hard it is to find someone who shares the same interest these days. We should go have dinner sometime. My husband would love the fact that I've made a new friend. Especially the Clarice Starling."
"You know my name?"
"Darling, what Black Market organization doesn't know your name? Clarice Starling, the unbeatable underground cage fighting champion." She began to walk away in the now empty room. "My people will contact Demetri's people! Make sure I don't regret this, Ms. Starling."
I changed back into my other uniform and went outside to think for a bit. Best thing about this museum? The small pond at the edge of the building. I walked towards the pond and sat on the edge. I looked down my reflection in the flowing water with small frog sculptures spitting water from its mouth back into the pond. My skin was still pale and saw my roots starting to grow out again. I forgot that I was a natural blonde here. At least, Clarice was. I sat in contrapposto to get a better view of the sun began as it began to descend into darkness. Another blonde haired figure flickered into my memories. Then a small brunette named Rosemary stood next to the blonde girl. My baby sister.
"It doesn't get better."
Clarice stared back at me as I gazed into the water. Of course she knew exactly of what I was thinking.
"It gets harder to live without your sibling, but you're doing better than I am." She smiled. "Maybe it's because you know that she's not dead somewhere. You have the luxury of denying what happened because this is not your real body or your memories. Rosemary, she is what you believe is innocent."
"Yes."
"Remember yourself as you were, before any of these traumatic experiences happened."
"Why?" Usually Clarice only gave me advice when something was coming. A sixth sense of hers.
"You've already changed." She must have seen the confusion on my face and went to a different subject. "I get the strangest feeling that we're going to deal with a certain antagonist that this show is named after."
My eyes widened. Now?
"Not now, but soon. Make sure you have back up plans. Alana already said we would meet him, but not when."
"What do I need back-up plans for?"
"Remember what happened to Will, Abigail, Crawford, and Alana at the end of season 2?"
I shuddered.
"Exactly."
Countdown to meet Dr. Hannibal Lecter—1