Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing. Despite my attempts to convince my
parents to buy the video's for me. Especially Hannibal which is infinitely
better than The Silence of the Lambs
A/N: This is what happens when you watch Hannibal one too many times. I was lying in bed last night thinking about Hannibal and this idea just popped into my head and kept me up all might long because it was I have a bedtime and couldn't write it. Now that I'm finally sitting down at my computer to start it, I'm not sure if I'll actually be able to write it. But I did, and it turned out to be my best fanfic ever and probably the best story I've ever written. Period. I hope I'm not sounding to conceited, but I really like it and I hope you do too.
Quotes taken from www.imdb.com
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Clarice Starling sat on her couch listening to the tapes for about the ten thousandth time that Barney had given her. The more she listened to them the more she thought about how brilliant Hannibal Lecter was, even if he was a psychopath.
i "First principles, Clarice. Read Marcus Aurelius. Of each particular thing ask: what is it in itself? What is its nature? What does he do, this man you seek?
He kills women-
No! That is incidental. What is the first and principal thing he does, what need does he serve by killing?
Anger, social resentment, sexual frustration-
No, he covets. That's his nature. And how do we begin to covet, Clarice? Do we seek out things to covet? Make an effort to answer.
No. We just-
No. Precisely. We begin by coveting what we see every day. Don't you feel eyes moving over your body, Clarice? And don't your eyes move over the things you want?" /i
The words had more meaning to her now than they had when Hannibal had first said them. Then, they had been talking about Buffalo Bill. Now, she was thinking about herself.
Ever since Hannibal had come back into Clarice's life, she had been trying to ignore the effects he had on her. Even now, sitting here in her living room just listening to an old recording of their conversations, she could feel it. A small chill racing up and down her spine whenever he said her name, or something of the sort.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Flashback*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Clarice raised the candlestick above his head and was about to bring it down as hard as she could when something made her stop. For some reason that she couldn't explain, not then at any rate, she couldn't do it. She knew that she had to, but something deep inside her told her that she couldn't. Just then, Hannibal whipped around, grabbed her wrists and pinned her against the refrigerator.
"I came halfway around the world to watch you run. Let me run," he said. Clarice tried to free herself, but Hannibal smashed her against the refrigerator again. He then opened the door to it enough so her ponytail fell in and then shut it again, breaking off the handle so she wouldn't be able to get out.
"Tell me Clarice, would you ever tell me to stop? If you loved me you'd stop?"
"Not in a thousand years," Clarice spat.
"No in a thousand years?" Hannibal leaned into her. "That's my girl," he whispered and then kissed her.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* End Flashback*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Now, six months later, whenever Clarice thought about it, she wondered why Hannibal had phrased it that way, what her answer would be if he asked her now, even though it was only six months later and nowhere close to a thousand years, and most of all about the kiss. She wished as hard as she could that it hadn't happened, but no amount of wishing could undo the past.
Before that, she remembered saying that she thought about Hannibal for at least thirty seconds every day. Now, it was rare if she thought about anything else. Well, that's not entirely true. She did think about other things, especially when she was working, mainly because she was warned if she screwed up one more time, they would really fire her, and other times, but when she was lying in bed trying to fall asleep, Hannibal completely took over her mind.
Right before she had first met Hannibal, she had been told not to tell him any personal information because she didn't want him inside her head. Now, two main thoughts circled that. First, if she hadn't told him everything she had, would it have worked out differently? Secondly, and far more complex and disturbing, was, what if she wanted him inside her head? Which always led to the endless what if's about the relationship she had had, and to some degree still had, with Hannibal.
And then there was the problem of her job. While technically she was still part of the FBI, all the respect she had once had had disappeared. Everyone treated her like dirt and nobody believed her whenever she had something about a case even if there was evidence supporting what she said. It was getting so frustrating that she had considered quitting. She had a suspicion that people greatly supported this idea, but no real evidence.
Not to mention, people got mad at her when she had been killing the people she was after even if it was the only way to do her job. Now she had stopped shooting as much, but some of her fellow agents had died because of it, and so now they were mad at her because she wasn't shooting enough. It seemed like what ever she did just wasn't good enough. On one case, she had followed orders specific enough that it seemed like they were telling her when to breathe, but somehow they had managed to say that it had been a complete failure. It just wasn't fair! Not that anything in life had ever been.
But probably the worst thing that had happened to her recently was that the lambs had started screaming again. This was undoubtably the worst because it tied everything together. Work, Hannibal, her past. When the lambs were screaming it all came together to reveal the horrible picture that was her life.
Clarice sighed, shoved all those thoughts aside and went to go make dinner, still listening to the tapes. As soon as she stepped into the kitchen, the phone started ringing. She quickly took off her headphones and jogged over to the phone.
"Agent Clarice Starling. Who is this?"
"Hello Clarice. It's been a long time since we've talked, hasn't it." There was no mistaking that voice.
"Doctor Lecter?" Clarice stammered.
"I thought this might be a good time to call because I know you won't try to trace me. I am right, aren't I?" Hannibal asked. They both knew what the answer was.
"I won't try to trace you. It wouldn't work anyways would it," Clarice said, trying to get control over herself and the situation.
"I don't imagine so. Tell me Clarice; am I right in saying that the lambs have started screaming again?" It was scary, to say the least, for him to know exactly what she had been thinking.
"Yes," she replied. No point in lying when he knew the answer to that question, and to all the other ones he was going to ask.
"What were you doing right before I called?" Hannibal asked.
"I was about to make dinner."
"And what were you listening to?"
"Tapes. Tapes of our conversations when we had first met."
"And what were you thinking about?"
"My job."
"No. What were you really thinking about? It was me, wasn't it." It wasn't a question.
"Yes, Doctor Lecter," Clarice said, glad that he couldn't see her.
"Come now, Clarice. I think we know each other well enough to use first names," Hannibal said.
"You could say that," Clarice said.
"Now, Clarice, what exactly were you thinking about me? What I am, what I've done? Were you perhaps thinking of ways you could capture me? No, I don't think so. Please, enlighten me." After a few minutes Clarice still hadn't said anything. "Don't tell me you don't know," Hannibal said, clearly amused.
"No, I can't say I do," Clarice said, the lie evident in her voice.
"Well, then I guess we'll just have to work this out. Dissect it until we do know." Clarice nodded, realized that he couldn't see her, and said,
"I guess we will have to. Or we could just leave it, but I doubt you're willing to do that."
"No, I don't think so either. Now, let's get to business. Why were you listening to those tapes?"
"Because I was thinking about what you had said and how closely those things described every day life."
"Which particular part are you referring to?"
"What you had said about coveting. How we covet what we see every day."
"And what is it you covet, Clarice? More than anything else?"
"Reason. Fairness. Order."
"No. Those are things that everyone wants. Be more specific, Clarice. Name things, places- people."
"I want to be respected. I want people to treat me how I deserve to be treated. I want people to look past my faults and see my good qualities!" Clarice's voice was rising until she was almost yelling.
"Like I did." Clarice stopped. She sat down on the chair next to her the telephone and everything seemed to stop. The birds that had been singing, the cars that had been driving past, even her own heart seemed to stop as soon as he said that. Hannibal laughed quietly.
"That's what I thought. It all boils down to me, doesn't it. I'm what you covet, Clarice."
"Why does it matter?" she said harshly.
"When I told you I came halfway around the world to watch you run. When I told you to let me run. I'm sure you remember the occasion."
"Yes."
"What if I asked you to run with me?" For the second time in a few seconds, it all stopped. "Come with me, Clarice. Think of the life we could have together. You have always wanted to travel and, as I'm sure you know, we would travel. We could do anything we wanted. Come with me."
"We can't. It wouldn't work and you know it. You're on the list of the top ten most wanted. I'm an FBI agent. Think about it. It's impossible."
"No, it isn't. Nothing is ever impossible. I thought you had learned that already." Clarice sighed and rested her head on her hand. It was another one of those unsolvable cases about deciding between what you want and what was right.
"There's the problem of what you do. I could never live with someone who ate people." Silence. A few minutes later,
"I'd give it up for you." Once again, everything stopped. Clarice decided that it was a very annoying habit that the world had seemed to acquire recently.
"Where are you now? I'm not saying yes, but where are you?" The door bell rang.
"I'm right here."
"The spare key is taped to the bottom of the welcome mat," Clarice said and hung up. A few seconds later, Hannibal walked in and sat down next to her. He looked exactly the same as when she had last seen him, if a little balder.
"How can I trust you?" Clarice asked. Hannibal debated about what he should say. There were so many possible answers.
"Because deep down inside you know I'm not lying. Because I saved your life. Because-" he stopped.
"Because?" Clarice prompted.
"Because" he paused again, and then looked straight into her eyes, "because I love you." Clarice sat there, trying to take it all in. He loved her? Hannibal "the cannibal" Lecter was in love with her? It didn't seem possible. But, as Hannibal himself had said, anything is possible.
"Yes," Clarice said quietly after a few minutes.
"Yes about what?" Hannibal asked. For once, Clarice knew that he didn't know the answer.
"Yes," Clarice said again.
"That's my girl," Hannibal whispered and hugged her. Clarice leaned her head on his shoulder wondering why on earth she had just done that. i I didn't do the right thing. She told herself, but I did do what I wanted for the first time since I can remember. And for now, that's good enough. /i
"We should go," Hannibal said. Clarice nodded, and followed him out the front door and into his large van. For the first time in what seemed like forever she sat in the passenger's side. A single tear ran down her cheek. Hannibal didn't have to ask what was wrong, he knew. Nothing was the answer. Everything was ok. And she was crying because it was the first time since she was ten that everything was ok. The lambs had stopped screaming and they both knew that they wouldn't start again.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
So what do you think? Is it any good? Should I continue? Click the light purple button to reply.
A/N: This is what happens when you watch Hannibal one too many times. I was lying in bed last night thinking about Hannibal and this idea just popped into my head and kept me up all might long because it was I have a bedtime and couldn't write it. Now that I'm finally sitting down at my computer to start it, I'm not sure if I'll actually be able to write it. But I did, and it turned out to be my best fanfic ever and probably the best story I've ever written. Period. I hope I'm not sounding to conceited, but I really like it and I hope you do too.
Quotes taken from www.imdb.com
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Clarice Starling sat on her couch listening to the tapes for about the ten thousandth time that Barney had given her. The more she listened to them the more she thought about how brilliant Hannibal Lecter was, even if he was a psychopath.
i "First principles, Clarice. Read Marcus Aurelius. Of each particular thing ask: what is it in itself? What is its nature? What does he do, this man you seek?
He kills women-
No! That is incidental. What is the first and principal thing he does, what need does he serve by killing?
Anger, social resentment, sexual frustration-
No, he covets. That's his nature. And how do we begin to covet, Clarice? Do we seek out things to covet? Make an effort to answer.
No. We just-
No. Precisely. We begin by coveting what we see every day. Don't you feel eyes moving over your body, Clarice? And don't your eyes move over the things you want?" /i
The words had more meaning to her now than they had when Hannibal had first said them. Then, they had been talking about Buffalo Bill. Now, she was thinking about herself.
Ever since Hannibal had come back into Clarice's life, she had been trying to ignore the effects he had on her. Even now, sitting here in her living room just listening to an old recording of their conversations, she could feel it. A small chill racing up and down her spine whenever he said her name, or something of the sort.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Flashback*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Clarice raised the candlestick above his head and was about to bring it down as hard as she could when something made her stop. For some reason that she couldn't explain, not then at any rate, she couldn't do it. She knew that she had to, but something deep inside her told her that she couldn't. Just then, Hannibal whipped around, grabbed her wrists and pinned her against the refrigerator.
"I came halfway around the world to watch you run. Let me run," he said. Clarice tried to free herself, but Hannibal smashed her against the refrigerator again. He then opened the door to it enough so her ponytail fell in and then shut it again, breaking off the handle so she wouldn't be able to get out.
"Tell me Clarice, would you ever tell me to stop? If you loved me you'd stop?"
"Not in a thousand years," Clarice spat.
"No in a thousand years?" Hannibal leaned into her. "That's my girl," he whispered and then kissed her.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* End Flashback*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Now, six months later, whenever Clarice thought about it, she wondered why Hannibal had phrased it that way, what her answer would be if he asked her now, even though it was only six months later and nowhere close to a thousand years, and most of all about the kiss. She wished as hard as she could that it hadn't happened, but no amount of wishing could undo the past.
Before that, she remembered saying that she thought about Hannibal for at least thirty seconds every day. Now, it was rare if she thought about anything else. Well, that's not entirely true. She did think about other things, especially when she was working, mainly because she was warned if she screwed up one more time, they would really fire her, and other times, but when she was lying in bed trying to fall asleep, Hannibal completely took over her mind.
Right before she had first met Hannibal, she had been told not to tell him any personal information because she didn't want him inside her head. Now, two main thoughts circled that. First, if she hadn't told him everything she had, would it have worked out differently? Secondly, and far more complex and disturbing, was, what if she wanted him inside her head? Which always led to the endless what if's about the relationship she had had, and to some degree still had, with Hannibal.
And then there was the problem of her job. While technically she was still part of the FBI, all the respect she had once had had disappeared. Everyone treated her like dirt and nobody believed her whenever she had something about a case even if there was evidence supporting what she said. It was getting so frustrating that she had considered quitting. She had a suspicion that people greatly supported this idea, but no real evidence.
Not to mention, people got mad at her when she had been killing the people she was after even if it was the only way to do her job. Now she had stopped shooting as much, but some of her fellow agents had died because of it, and so now they were mad at her because she wasn't shooting enough. It seemed like what ever she did just wasn't good enough. On one case, she had followed orders specific enough that it seemed like they were telling her when to breathe, but somehow they had managed to say that it had been a complete failure. It just wasn't fair! Not that anything in life had ever been.
But probably the worst thing that had happened to her recently was that the lambs had started screaming again. This was undoubtably the worst because it tied everything together. Work, Hannibal, her past. When the lambs were screaming it all came together to reveal the horrible picture that was her life.
Clarice sighed, shoved all those thoughts aside and went to go make dinner, still listening to the tapes. As soon as she stepped into the kitchen, the phone started ringing. She quickly took off her headphones and jogged over to the phone.
"Agent Clarice Starling. Who is this?"
"Hello Clarice. It's been a long time since we've talked, hasn't it." There was no mistaking that voice.
"Doctor Lecter?" Clarice stammered.
"I thought this might be a good time to call because I know you won't try to trace me. I am right, aren't I?" Hannibal asked. They both knew what the answer was.
"I won't try to trace you. It wouldn't work anyways would it," Clarice said, trying to get control over herself and the situation.
"I don't imagine so. Tell me Clarice; am I right in saying that the lambs have started screaming again?" It was scary, to say the least, for him to know exactly what she had been thinking.
"Yes," she replied. No point in lying when he knew the answer to that question, and to all the other ones he was going to ask.
"What were you doing right before I called?" Hannibal asked.
"I was about to make dinner."
"And what were you listening to?"
"Tapes. Tapes of our conversations when we had first met."
"And what were you thinking about?"
"My job."
"No. What were you really thinking about? It was me, wasn't it." It wasn't a question.
"Yes, Doctor Lecter," Clarice said, glad that he couldn't see her.
"Come now, Clarice. I think we know each other well enough to use first names," Hannibal said.
"You could say that," Clarice said.
"Now, Clarice, what exactly were you thinking about me? What I am, what I've done? Were you perhaps thinking of ways you could capture me? No, I don't think so. Please, enlighten me." After a few minutes Clarice still hadn't said anything. "Don't tell me you don't know," Hannibal said, clearly amused.
"No, I can't say I do," Clarice said, the lie evident in her voice.
"Well, then I guess we'll just have to work this out. Dissect it until we do know." Clarice nodded, realized that he couldn't see her, and said,
"I guess we will have to. Or we could just leave it, but I doubt you're willing to do that."
"No, I don't think so either. Now, let's get to business. Why were you listening to those tapes?"
"Because I was thinking about what you had said and how closely those things described every day life."
"Which particular part are you referring to?"
"What you had said about coveting. How we covet what we see every day."
"And what is it you covet, Clarice? More than anything else?"
"Reason. Fairness. Order."
"No. Those are things that everyone wants. Be more specific, Clarice. Name things, places- people."
"I want to be respected. I want people to treat me how I deserve to be treated. I want people to look past my faults and see my good qualities!" Clarice's voice was rising until she was almost yelling.
"Like I did." Clarice stopped. She sat down on the chair next to her the telephone and everything seemed to stop. The birds that had been singing, the cars that had been driving past, even her own heart seemed to stop as soon as he said that. Hannibal laughed quietly.
"That's what I thought. It all boils down to me, doesn't it. I'm what you covet, Clarice."
"Why does it matter?" she said harshly.
"When I told you I came halfway around the world to watch you run. When I told you to let me run. I'm sure you remember the occasion."
"Yes."
"What if I asked you to run with me?" For the second time in a few seconds, it all stopped. "Come with me, Clarice. Think of the life we could have together. You have always wanted to travel and, as I'm sure you know, we would travel. We could do anything we wanted. Come with me."
"We can't. It wouldn't work and you know it. You're on the list of the top ten most wanted. I'm an FBI agent. Think about it. It's impossible."
"No, it isn't. Nothing is ever impossible. I thought you had learned that already." Clarice sighed and rested her head on her hand. It was another one of those unsolvable cases about deciding between what you want and what was right.
"There's the problem of what you do. I could never live with someone who ate people." Silence. A few minutes later,
"I'd give it up for you." Once again, everything stopped. Clarice decided that it was a very annoying habit that the world had seemed to acquire recently.
"Where are you now? I'm not saying yes, but where are you?" The door bell rang.
"I'm right here."
"The spare key is taped to the bottom of the welcome mat," Clarice said and hung up. A few seconds later, Hannibal walked in and sat down next to her. He looked exactly the same as when she had last seen him, if a little balder.
"How can I trust you?" Clarice asked. Hannibal debated about what he should say. There were so many possible answers.
"Because deep down inside you know I'm not lying. Because I saved your life. Because-" he stopped.
"Because?" Clarice prompted.
"Because" he paused again, and then looked straight into her eyes, "because I love you." Clarice sat there, trying to take it all in. He loved her? Hannibal "the cannibal" Lecter was in love with her? It didn't seem possible. But, as Hannibal himself had said, anything is possible.
"Yes," Clarice said quietly after a few minutes.
"Yes about what?" Hannibal asked. For once, Clarice knew that he didn't know the answer.
"Yes," Clarice said again.
"That's my girl," Hannibal whispered and hugged her. Clarice leaned her head on his shoulder wondering why on earth she had just done that. i I didn't do the right thing. She told herself, but I did do what I wanted for the first time since I can remember. And for now, that's good enough. /i
"We should go," Hannibal said. Clarice nodded, and followed him out the front door and into his large van. For the first time in what seemed like forever she sat in the passenger's side. A single tear ran down her cheek. Hannibal didn't have to ask what was wrong, he knew. Nothing was the answer. Everything was ok. And she was crying because it was the first time since she was ten that everything was ok. The lambs had stopped screaming and they both knew that they wouldn't start again.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
So what do you think? Is it any good? Should I continue? Click the light purple button to reply.