Surprise Surprise
Clarice climbed up one flight of the many stairs in the tall building. 'Why am I here?' She thought to herself. She knew very well why she was here. Crawford could be a manipulative bastard when he wanted to be.
FlashBack
A knock on the door of her house. A single knock. Could it be… no. No, Hannibal wouldn't knock. Who the hell is it then? Clarice slowly got up from her armchair and crept towards the door.
'Who is it?' She asked
.
'Jack Crawford.' The voice answered. She sighed disappointedly and opened the door to let her former boss in.
'Hello Mr. Crawford.' She said politely, closing the door behind him.
'Hey Starling, how are you?' He asked
'Erm, ok. I suppose.'
'Tablets making you feel any better?'
'Not really, I can't see any effect.'
'And how's your shoulder?' His eyes flickered to her shoulder where the scar would be.
'Oh, it's healing nicely.' She said, as if she hadn't noticed his eyes looking at he shoulder.
'It'll leave a scar?' Crawford already knew the answer.
'Unfortunately yes. The doctors said that there's nothing more that can be done with it.'
'Physically or mentally?' Clarice didn't answer. There was an uneasy silence.
'All due respect Mr.Crawford, but why are you here?'
'Clarice, I wanted to talk with you.'
'Oh, yeah. Now you want to talk?' All her respect for him was suddenly thrown out of the window as she felt the anger bubbling inside her. 'You want to talk now? Why didn't you talk to me before? Why didn't you talk to me instead of sending me a letter telling me I got fired?…'
'Clarice, I want you to talk to me. Not just me talk to you. I want to know how you are.'
'That's just great Jack. Maybe I don't want to talk to you. Maybe you had your chance to listen to me, but you blew it. Maybe you should have listened when I had something to say to you. The day after Lecter got away? But no, you refused to listen, didn't you? Now you want to talk!' She was on a roll now. The anger was now on boiling. 'Well, maybe it's too late. In fact yes, it IS too late. I have nothing to say to Mr. Crawford. Good day.' She left him standing in her hallway as she walked into her kitchen.
'Clarice…' He called after her.
'Clarice, I think you need a break.'
'What, from the FBI? I already got one, thanks.'
'You know what I mean. I want you to go to London. There's a man there that I want you to see. His name is Doctor Walker. I want you to talk to him and……'
'Wait a minute. Are you telling me to see a psychiatrist?' She asked, giving him a puzzled look.
'Now wait a minute Clarice. It's not like that, and you know it.'
'Hang on. I am not mental.'
'I'm not saying that you are…'
'And do you happen to remember the last psychiatrist I saw?'
'CLARICE!!' Crawford had just about had enough. 'I told you "Do NOT let Hannibal Lecter inside your head. And what have you done? Look at the scars he's left on you…'
'Hey, it wasn't his fault that I got shot, ok?'
'Yes it was. If he wasn't in your head, you wouldn't have gone to Muskrat Farm, and you know it.'
'If I hadn't have gone to Muskrat farm, Hannibal would be dead!' She was shouting now, but his voice was next deathly quiet
'You trusted him. And look what he has done to you.' His eyes quickly scanned her body. Anger always did make women look tacky. 'Maybe it would have been better if you didn't go to Muskrat Farm. Do us all a favour.' She looked him straight in the eyes and without a moment's hesitation, slapped him around the face.
'I TRUSTED YOU!! AND LOOK WHAT YOU DID TO ME! I DID WHAT I THOUGHT WAS BEST AT THE TIME.' She quickly composed herself after screaming at him. 'At least with Hannibal Lecter you know if he wants you dead, you know where you stand. Goddamn you and the FBI. You never know if you're doing the right thing, or if you want us dead. You never know where you stand.' She stepped away from him. 'I believe that I have already gestured that I want you to leave. Good Day Mr Crawford.' And with that, she opened the door, making it clear that she wanted him to leave.
'Clarice, here's my card. I know your mad now. But, consider it. Ok?' He looked at her one last time before walking out and closing the door behind him.
It was almost 5 minutes later while she was remembering all that had been sad and done that she realised. She realised that she had slapped her former boss around the face, because he had said that he, basically, wanted Hannibal dead. What had possessed her to do that? She didn't have any feelings for him. Did she? Oh dear God. She realised what she felt for him. And when she did, she slid down the wall, to the floor, and cried like a child who had lost it's favourite toy.
Clarice climbed up one flight of the many stairs in the tall building. 'Why am I here?' She thought to herself. She knew very well why she was here. Crawford could be a manipulative bastard when he wanted to be.
FlashBack
A knock on the door of her house. A single knock. Could it be… no. No, Hannibal wouldn't knock. Who the hell is it then? Clarice slowly got up from her armchair and crept towards the door.
'Who is it?' She asked
.
'Jack Crawford.' The voice answered. She sighed disappointedly and opened the door to let her former boss in.
'Hello Mr. Crawford.' She said politely, closing the door behind him.
'Hey Starling, how are you?' He asked
'Erm, ok. I suppose.'
'Tablets making you feel any better?'
'Not really, I can't see any effect.'
'And how's your shoulder?' His eyes flickered to her shoulder where the scar would be.
'Oh, it's healing nicely.' She said, as if she hadn't noticed his eyes looking at he shoulder.
'It'll leave a scar?' Crawford already knew the answer.
'Unfortunately yes. The doctors said that there's nothing more that can be done with it.'
'Physically or mentally?' Clarice didn't answer. There was an uneasy silence.
'All due respect Mr.Crawford, but why are you here?'
'Clarice, I wanted to talk with you.'
'Oh, yeah. Now you want to talk?' All her respect for him was suddenly thrown out of the window as she felt the anger bubbling inside her. 'You want to talk now? Why didn't you talk to me before? Why didn't you talk to me instead of sending me a letter telling me I got fired?…'
'Clarice, I want you to talk to me. Not just me talk to you. I want to know how you are.'
'That's just great Jack. Maybe I don't want to talk to you. Maybe you had your chance to listen to me, but you blew it. Maybe you should have listened when I had something to say to you. The day after Lecter got away? But no, you refused to listen, didn't you? Now you want to talk!' She was on a roll now. The anger was now on boiling. 'Well, maybe it's too late. In fact yes, it IS too late. I have nothing to say to Mr. Crawford. Good day.' She left him standing in her hallway as she walked into her kitchen.
'Clarice…' He called after her.
'Clarice, I think you need a break.'
'What, from the FBI? I already got one, thanks.'
'You know what I mean. I want you to go to London. There's a man there that I want you to see. His name is Doctor Walker. I want you to talk to him and……'
'Wait a minute. Are you telling me to see a psychiatrist?' She asked, giving him a puzzled look.
'Now wait a minute Clarice. It's not like that, and you know it.'
'Hang on. I am not mental.'
'I'm not saying that you are…'
'And do you happen to remember the last psychiatrist I saw?'
'CLARICE!!' Crawford had just about had enough. 'I told you "Do NOT let Hannibal Lecter inside your head. And what have you done? Look at the scars he's left on you…'
'Hey, it wasn't his fault that I got shot, ok?'
'Yes it was. If he wasn't in your head, you wouldn't have gone to Muskrat Farm, and you know it.'
'If I hadn't have gone to Muskrat farm, Hannibal would be dead!' She was shouting now, but his voice was next deathly quiet
'You trusted him. And look what he has done to you.' His eyes quickly scanned her body. Anger always did make women look tacky. 'Maybe it would have been better if you didn't go to Muskrat Farm. Do us all a favour.' She looked him straight in the eyes and without a moment's hesitation, slapped him around the face.
'I TRUSTED YOU!! AND LOOK WHAT YOU DID TO ME! I DID WHAT I THOUGHT WAS BEST AT THE TIME.' She quickly composed herself after screaming at him. 'At least with Hannibal Lecter you know if he wants you dead, you know where you stand. Goddamn you and the FBI. You never know if you're doing the right thing, or if you want us dead. You never know where you stand.' She stepped away from him. 'I believe that I have already gestured that I want you to leave. Good Day Mr Crawford.' And with that, she opened the door, making it clear that she wanted him to leave.
'Clarice, here's my card. I know your mad now. But, consider it. Ok?' He looked at her one last time before walking out and closing the door behind him.
It was almost 5 minutes later while she was remembering all that had been sad and done that she realised. She realised that she had slapped her former boss around the face, because he had said that he, basically, wanted Hannibal dead. What had possessed her to do that? She didn't have any feelings for him. Did she? Oh dear God. She realised what she felt for him. And when she did, she slid down the wall, to the floor, and cried like a child who had lost it's favourite toy.