Author's note: Very quiet day at work today, so here you are, a double feature. (No, Dr. Lecter will NOT build a creature, nor will androids fight anybody.)
The county jail was quiet. The inmates were all locked down for the night. The guards were all settled in the places they went. Some were located in the control center of the jail. Some found rooms in which to sit and watch TV. There weren't many of them. This night had a bit of excitement, for the small county jail held two famous prisoners: Dr. Hannibal Lecter on the far end of the men's cellblock, and Clarice Starling on the far end of the women's.
When they'd been brought in, of course, all the guards had gone down to see them. Their jail had suddenly become a zoo. The feds had come in, more feds than anyone at the jail could ever remember seeing. Both Lecter and Starling had been laden down in chains. Agent Bowman had ordered them held in isolation, and the jail had complied. The famous prisoners were on opposite ends of the jail. There would be no contacting each other. They were confined behind thick steel doors, not bars.
But neither of them obliged their captors. Both Dr. Lecter and Clarice simply laid down on their respective bunks and turned away from the door. Neither one responded to any calls or attempts to start a conversation. Simply an imperially slim man and an attractive woman, lying on a bunk, facing away from the door.
The jail guard working at the front door glanced up as the door opened. A small color TV under his desk proved more interesting to him than the monitors showing what was happening in the jail. He snapped it off as the visitor came closer with some annoyance. A young woman entered, her face flushed red. She wore black fatigues. At first, the guard thought she was SWAT. He found himself wondering if she was OK. She looked kind of off, as if she was drunk or on drugs or something.
"I need to see Dr. Lecter," she said.
The guard shook his head. "Ma'am, we've had a few phone calls. He's not available for interviews. We have orders from the FBI."
Charlene Stenson Starling displayed her ID. "I am the FBI," she said firmly. She put both hands on the desk in order to support herself. "I'm the agent who arrested him. My name is Charlene Starling. I need to know that he's in jail."
The guard considered. She was FBI, not a reporter or something like that. But still.
"Ma'am, it's a little late," he said.
"I don't care," she said. "I…I have to see him. It's very important that I see him."
The guard sighed. "Ma'am, are you OK? I mean, I can get you down there, sure, but you look kinda sick."
Charlene gritted her teeth. "I'm fine," she lied. The drugs were finally wearing off, and she felt hot and flushed and tired. But she'd been able to sneak out of the hospital OK. And this was the only time she could do this. In three hours, Dr. Lecter would be on a plane to Colorado, where he would never know freedom again. Aunt Clarice would be delivered back to Greenwood half an hour later.
She wasn't sure why she was doing this. Part of her still screamed that Dr. Lecter was dangerous. Hadn't he shown that already? He'd rendered one person a mindless freak and killed another. Innocent people were at risk as long as he was free.
But then there was another part of her, part of her that reminded her that McQuerry and Crawford weren't innocent. And there was a voice, a voice she remembered only through a dim veil of drugs and hypnosis. She thought it was Dr. Lecter, but she was not sure. He'd spoken of Dr. Lecter in the third person, but she still thought it was he. It was during the timeless mist of her therapy.
Charlene, I must apologize…what Dr. Lecter told you in the cell in Argentina was…in error. He was angry and sought to protect Clarice. Your aunt does care for you, quite deeply. She did not realize how it had made you suffer and she does deeply regret it. You remember her speaking of it with you? Did you believe her when she said it? She went with Dr. Lecter because I…because he wanted her to be happy. And happy she was. You do want her to be happy, don't you?
Yes. Yes, she did. Aunt Clarice deserved to be happy. And Dr. Lecter…
Charlene, you've said that you believe Dr. Lecter to deserve incarceration because he threatens innocent people. Might I ask you this? What if Dr. Lecter forswore violence against those innocent? Could you accept that? Surely sometimes elderly prisoners are released on compassionate grounds. How different would this be? What if Dr. Lecter solemnly promised to never harm you? Would that satisfy your fear for your own safety? I see…no, no, it was quite reasonable of you to think Dr. Lecter might seek revenge. He had done it before. But let's just ask if he did promise you that you would live your life unmolested by him. Would you be willing to then let an old man live out his remaining years with the woman he loves?
And again…yes. If he agreed to kill no more innocents, if he left her be, she would be willing to let him live his life. It would have to be in another country, she knew that. She did not want Dr. Lecter in the United States. She had taken an oath and she meant to keep it. In another country he would be someone else's problem.
The guard called another to the front to take her down to Dr. Lecter's cell. The second guard walked her down calmly. He tried to make some conversation, perhaps curious why a flushed, sick-looking FBI agent was here at three in the morning, but Charlene displayed little interest. Her hand crept into the pocket of her BDU pants.
Barred gates crashed open and closed. The guard had to unlock each one. He had a big bunch of keys on his belt. Charlene counted. Four gates. She'd seen the sign to the women's cellblock. Figure a total of eight.
For the second time in her life, Charlene Starling approached the cell door of Dr. Hannibal Lecter. This time, there were no rats. This time, she felt no anger. The door looked incredibly heavy and thick. Dr. Lecter would not escape such a cell. A camera nearby recorded the events for later viewing.
Dr. Lecter rolled over and saw Charlene standing there. He ignored the guard as he usually did. For the first time since he had been sealed in this cell, he showed some interest in someone outside of his door. He got up from his bunk and walked over to stand in front of the door. Graceful as a dancer, he put his hands behind his back and watched them expectantly.
"Dr. Lecter," Charlene rasped.
"Charlene," Dr. Lecter said politely.
"So how does it feel?" she asked with no malice. "You almost got away…and here you are."
Dr. Lecter shrugged. "You're better than I gave you credit for, Charlene," he said. "The mistake is mine."
Charlene hunched over slightly as if unsteady. "I brought you some of your drawings," she said. Then she turned to the guard. "Open his food slot, please. I want to give them to him."
The guard sighed. "He ain't supposed to have no property on him."
"It's paper," Charlene said. "Nothing he can't have according to jail regulations."
The guard let out an exhalation of frustration, but he reached down to open up the food slot on Dr. Lecter's door.
"Back up to the back of your cell, Lecter," he said.
Dr. Lecter complied. He did not back up to the far end of the cell. The jail guard did not notice this, which would later be seen as his first mistake. The guard did not check on him as he bent down, fumbling for the key, which was his second mistake.
Dr. Lecter took a quiet step forward. Then another. When the guard unlocked the food slot and opened it, he was ready. He understood what was about to happen.
Charlene put a hand to her forehead and let out a low moan, as if unsteady. She stumbled forward and bumped into the guard. She bumped into him hard enough to knock him off balance.
The keys clattered to the bottom of the food slot. Dr. Lecter grabbed them and swept them into his cell with one hand. With the other, he grabbed the guard's shirt. A moment later he had both hands on the guard. It was difficult to reach up through the food slot, but Dr. Lecter was strong and capable. He slammed the guard's head into the steel door a few times as hard as he could.
The guard was unconscious and slithered to the ground when Dr. Lecter let go of him. After that, Dr. Lecter set about unlocking himself from the inside. It was not at all convenient to reach up through the food slot and Dr. Lecter's knees protested mightily as he had to contort himself. After all, he was a man of older years.
He hauled the guard inside and switched clothes with him quickly. The uniform was absolutely without taste – an ugly shade of brown. But it would get him out of here.
Charlene stood outside his cell as he stepped out. The guard's cap did not quite fit his head, but he wedged it on as best he could. Its protection against the camera would be welcome. He'd seen them as he was brought down here. He grabbed Charlene by the throat and walked her backwards, pinning her against the wall.
Charlene's hands grabbed his, but she was still too weak and too drugged to put up any real resistance. Her face contorted. Dr. Lecter eyed her calmly. He had only one chance. She seemed to know that despite herself. Overhead, the camera watched relentlessly.
"Well, Charlene," he said. "Here we are."
Charlene nodded and tilted her head at the camera.
"Eight gates," she said without moving her lips. "Aunt Clarice is at the end of the women's cellblock. Just go, you shouldn't have any problem. Guards are watching TV."
Dr. Lecter nodded.
"Don't make it hurt, Dr. Lecter," Charlene said, oddly calm. She'd reached her decision. This was the best way. The only way. From his eyes, he understood what had to happen as well. They would be free and together…and Charlene could finally be at peace.
He could sense the camera recording overhead. Were the guards paying attention? Probably not. Otherwise they would have been down here. Sleeping on the job. But there was the camera, and the camera expected him to be a monster. So for its sake, he would be one.
"It won't hurt," Dr. Lecter assured her. "I shall promise you that."
He firmed up his grip on her throat. Self-preservation made her fight a bit, but she wasn't able to break his grip. She began to relax as prior victims of Dr. Lecter had relaxed, knowing that they didn't have to fight anymore, that all their pain would soon be over.
Then Dr. Hannibal Lecter settled his fingers around her throat and began to squeeze.