Author's note: Well, that wasn't the end of the story, actually. This is. Dunno if anyone noticed, but we did just switch from movie ending to book ending. Neato, huh? And while Dr. Lecter may have brainwashed Clarice and moved on with her as he did in the book, it seems he's not the only one good at manipulation….
SEVEN YEARS LATER:
Why am I still here? Jack Crawford wondered. And why do I feel like I have to do this?
But he knew the answer. Bella was gone. All he had was Behavioral Sciences, the unit that he had patiently built from nothing over the years. Without his job, there wasn't anything to do. He couldn't stand the idea of rocking on his porch. Fortunately, he had allies in the House of Representatives who had managed to get him around the mandatory retirement age. Cultivating all those allies all those years ago had its benefits. Ever since Clarice had disappeared, he'd returned to his job with newfound strength. Now, he had allies throughout the Bureau – not as many as he would have liked, but enough.
Some things had changed. He used a cane now. A few of the younger kids in Behavioral Sciences thought that was privately funny. He grabbed its polished hardwood crook and began to slowly limp down the hall to the elevator. He had arthritis in his hands now too, and his knuckles were pulsing with red waves of pain. But Crawford gritted his teeth and ignored it. He wasn't too decrepit to be forced out of his post. But the stairs were ancient territory to Jack Crawford. He was old enough to use the elevator.
As it hummed upstairs, he found himself thinking of the past. That didn't surprise him: there were more days behind than days ahead. But for the first time in years, he found himself thinking of Clarice Starling. They'd never found her body. That alone didn't surprise him. They still hadn't ever found the body of that Princeton student from all those years ago. Dr. Lecter could hide bodies exceedingly well when he wanted to.
The elevator binged open. Crawford walked out the hall and found himself wishing for the aspirin in his desk drawer downstairs. A few people smiled at him as he passed. Crawford didn't smile back. Instead, he soldiered on down the hall to a particular small office.
Seated at the desk was a young woman. Her back was to him, and he could only see the soft brown curls of her hair. She was typing away at a computer keyboard and didn't notice him at first. Crawford took a moment to observe her before he announced his presence.
Her desk was spartan. The only things even vaguely personal on it were her college degree and two photographs. Crawford studied them wordlessly. At first glance, you might have thought they were copies of the same picture. In each one, a woman with brown hair and blue eyes was smiling, accepting her first FBI identification from a burly man in a suit. Only by looking closer would you notice that one woman's hair was straight and the other's curly. Had you bothered to squint at the banner behind the woman, you would have also noticed that one read FBI Academy Class of 1991 and the other read FBI Academy Class of 2007.
Crawford sighed. Apparently Hannibal Lecter's last foray hadn't only claimed Dave McCracken as a victim. So far as he knew, McCracken was still in his prison cell back in Raleigh. It was probably sheer hell for him back there. Raleigh prison authorities had reported they'd had to keep the disfigured strangler in protective custody on a permanent basis. This was the only one of Lecter's crimes where he actually found himself sympathizing with the good doctor. But now he had the possibility of putting Lecter away once and for all.
Of all the killers and fugitives who Jack Crawford had tried to hunt, Dr. Lecter was the only one who had evaded him so long. Crawford wanted to close the Lecter file before he stepped down. Once Dr. Lecter was back in custody, Crawford could retire with a clear conscience. No one would have gotten away from him. No one.
Crawford cleared his throat. The young woman turned. Blue eyes very similar to what he had seen before raked across him, taking his measure. Then her face started in surprise and she stood hurriedly.
"Mr. Crawford," she said with surprise. "I didn't hear you come in." Her voice contained an assiduously hidden West Virginia drawl. Crawford closed his eyes and thought of days past.
"That's all right."
"Let me get you a chair," she said, and scurried out of the office before he could protest. Besides, he needed it. A few moments later, she came back dragging a plastic chair behind him. She offered it to him and then sat down on her own desk chair.
"Is there something you needed, sir?" she asked.
"I hear you want to work for me. Well, Behavioral Sciences, that is."
"Eventually," Charlene admitted. "I know, I need to work a few years in the field offices first. They've assigned me here in DC for now."
"I know. That was me." Crawford shifted in the chair. "Look, I want to ask you a couple of questions here."
She shrugged. "Ask away," she said nonchalantly.
"I've been sort of keeping an eye on you when you came to the Academy," he said. "I know there was some hooraw about a name change while you were in training."
Charlene shrugged. "It's really nowhere near as big a deal as everyone's made it out to be, sir," she said. "I filed name-change papers. I didn't even change my name, really. I just sort of took it back."
"Wanna tell me about it?"
"Sure," Charlene said. "When I was born, my name was Charlene Starling. My mother got married when I was six, and my stepfather adopted me, so I took his name. So ever since then my name was Charlene Stenson. All that I did was add back the Starling, really."
Crawford sighed. "So your new name is-,"
"Charlene Stenson Starling," Charlene supplied.
Crawford nodded slowly. A living memorial, that's what it was. Good. She was obsessed. Her guilt over Clarice's disappearance had forced her to remold herself in her aunt's image. "What made you want to do this in the middle of your training?"
Charlene shrugged. "It was something I wanted to do," she said. "All I wanted was to have both my names. I really don't see what the big deal is."
"Sorta struck people as around here as kind of odd. Well, hell, I mean, you know."
Charlene's eyes clouded. "Yes, sir, I do," she said.
"And that's something else," Crawford said. He swallowed. For some reason it was harder than he expected to say. "Starling," he began, "I had the IT office run a check on the Lecter file on VICAP. To see who'd accessed it." His gnarled fingers fumbled inside his jacket pocket for a moment and came out with a folded sheet of white paper. He placed it on the desk. Charlene leaned forward and looked down at it. A few lines were highlighted, and they both examined those first. He wanted her to see those names.
6/10/2000 13:35:01 RPAZZI@QUESTURA.IT
6/11/2000 14:45:34 CSTARLING
6/12/2000 18:23:12 PKRENDLER
There were others, but they were not of interest to Crawford. A few more instances of CSTARLING were outlined so that she would see them. The username AMAPP appeared now and again, especially after Clarice had gone missing. At the bottom was another highlighted entry, and Crawford pointed to that.
8/14/2007 12:32:52 CSSTARLING
"Why is a rank rookie looking at the Lecter file?" he asked.
Charlene shifted. The corner of her mouth worked.
"So far as I know, sir, I have legitimate access to the VICAP database," she said. "I am an FBI agent. Have I violated any rule? If I did, I apologize. I wasn't aware of anything specifically keeping me from that file."
Crawford sighed. "That's not what this is about." He didn't want to call her Charlene, since that implied a familiarity he didn't feel comfortable with. But calling her by her last name gave him the spookies. "Look. I know what happened with you and McCracken and…Lecter. But McCracken's in custody and we're looking for Lecter."
"You've never found him," Charlene Stenson Starling said archly.
"Look, Starling," he said, and winced. Easy now, Jack, ease off, make it look like you disapprove. Just slightly. Gotta be believable. "I'm gonna be out of here eventually. You've still got a whole career ahead of you. Don't do something dumb that's gonna get yourself a name right now. Lecter's on the Most-Wanted list and he'll stay there. We'll catch him. Be cool."
"I was just looking at the file, sir," Charlene said.
Crawford looked at her as a parent might look at a recalcitrant teenager. OK, now play the Dutch uncle. Give her sound advice. She won't expect me to understand. But I do, kiddo, you bet I do.
"Don't try to get revenge, Starling," he said, and winced again. "Let us do our job."
She said nothing for several moments. Her eyes burned with pain. Yes, Crawford thought, the dominant image in Charlene's life was still the sight of Hannibal Lecter carrying her stripped and bloody aunt away. Good.
"May I speak freely, sir?" she asked finally.
Crawford grunted. His hands hurt. "Yes," he said. There you go, kiddo, why don't you just throw yourself right into Uncle Jack's arms here.
"Sir, I know perfectly well that there are good, professional FBI agents searching for Dr. Lecter. But I have something they don't. Hannibal Lecter killed my aunt. He kidnapped her and then he killed her. And I was only fifteen, and I couldn't do anything to help her then. All the professionalism and all the good intentions in the world won't put Hannibal Lecter behind bars. If it did, he'd have been caught when I was a child."
Her voice had gotten just a bit thick, Crawford noted. He sighed. Unwanted tears rose to her eyes and she blinked them away resolutely. As she continued, her eyes began to flash angrily. Nothing would be able to dissuade her any more than anything could have dissuaded Clarice Starling from saving her lambs. This was something she had to say. This was something she had to do. And Jack Crawford thought it was just great.
"I couldn't save my aunt's life, Mr. Crawford. I've had to live with that for years now. She risked her life to save me and she lost it. I can't bring her back. Dr. Lecter killed her. But I can give her justice. And I'll do that, no matter what it takes, no matter how long it takes. I am going to bring Hannibal Lecter to justice for what he's done. Whether you approve of it or not."
He nodded once and tried not to remember another young FBI agent. Don't let him get in your head, Starling, he'd said. And now here Dr. Lecter was, in another Starling's head. Now he played boogeyman in lieu of teacher, but he was there. For Jack Crawford, that was very, very good. Things were working out better than he'd hoped.
How does the sick son of a bitch do it? he wondered. He swallowed. Lately he was so tired. But he had to bait Charlene Stenson Starling just as he had baited other agents before. Will Graham and his obsession over Lecter, which had enough spillover to bring him into the Dolarhyde case. Clarice and her lambs. Charlene might be their best chance to bag Lecter.
"Dr. Lecter killed my aunt," Charlene repeated, and her eyes narrowed. "And I'm going to get him."
Crawford nodded. Now he had to be careful and feed her just enough approval so she'd buy it. Now you're converted, Jack. Play the role. "I believe you," he said softly. Should he trust her? Would her need to see justice for her aunt be the final push the FBI needed to finally catch Lecter? After all, they'd been spinning their wheels for years while the doctor remained free.
But what about the nagging voice in the back of his head that told him Lecter wouldn't have killed Clarice? He strongly suspected that Lecter had instead convinced Starling to go with him. It was a nagging idea that Jack Crawford had never been able to shake. Was Clarice happy with him?
Charlene would never believe that her aunt had gone with Dr. Lecter, voluntarily or…otherwise. Her entire life had been structured around the idea that Dr. Lecter had killed Clarice Starling. She was blind that way. If Lecter hadn't killed Clarice, her life would fall apart. But that blindness was something he could use, just as he'd used Will Graham and Clarice Starling in his time. He told the voice to shut up. He wanted Lecter caught. Charlene could do that for him. If Clarice was alive…well, she'd just learn to deal, wouldn't she?
He'd have to tread on a few toes to get her where she needed to be, but that wasn't a problem. And there was no Krendler in Charlene's path yet. He'd have to get her under a friendly boss, someone who would let him take her for the Lecter case. But that was easy. And he'd already begun laying the groundwork for it the moment someone had told him that Charlene had adopted a new last name midway through the Academy.
Her eyes lit up. It was so easy sometimes to lead people; all you had to do was figure out what they wanted. Charlene wanted to catch Dr. Lecter. All she needed were the tools. Crawford would give them to her.
"And I want to help you do that. But you gotta work with me here."
She tilted her head at him and smiled. For a moment, he was doubly reminded of Clarice and Bella. Oh, quit it, he thought. But Dr. Lecter behind bars would make such a great retirement present. Charlene would work doggedly to catch him. She'd stay late, follow up on leads, whatever he needed. The other agents on the Lecter case simply wanted to catch Lecter. Charlene needed to.
"I'm listening, Mr. Crawford," Charlene said instantly.
Jack Crawford grinned. She'd taken the bait; now he just had to reel her in nice and slow.
"I'm going to make a few phone calls for you," he said. "See if I can get you working for the guy running the Lecter case. You've got great credentials, but you're new. What I need you to do for me is just sort of keep your head down. Keep out of trouble." Don't meet up with a Krendler, was what he wanted to say. "You'd start off just doing small stuff, you understand. But eventually we could have you as a full-fledged member of the team." That carrot had kept Clarice around for years. Would it work for Charlene? He thought it might.
"I understand," she said, and leaned forward eagerly. "Thank you, Mr. Crawford. I won't let you down."
Jack Crawford smiled. He got up slowly. Charlene Stenson Starling got up and saw him to the door solicitously. His cane clattered against the floor. Even despite his age, he found himself feeling spryer on the trip back down to Behavioral Sciences. Yes, it was a good day. He had a new pawn, and this pawn might be able to put Dr. Lecter in check.
Back in her small office, Charlene Starling sat down behind her desk. She took the graduation picture of Clarice Starling and stared at it with hard eyes. It occurred to her that she ought to be happy. The legendary Jack Crawford wanted her on his team. He would give her the tools to do what she needed. But there was a streak of grief and memory that overrode any joy she might have felt. All the same, she was closer to her purpose.
"I told you I'd set it right, Aunt Clarice," she said to the picture. Her voice was hard and not without pain. "I'll catch Hannibal Lecter if it's the last thing I do. I swear I will."
FIN