Child
by Shamaho
Disclaimer- I do not own the works of Thomas Harris, which includes characters, places, events or anything within his text. I do own everything else however, and beg that if anyone wants to use my characters, places events or anything contained herein, please give me credit, and if this should be posted anywhere, just let me know where it will be.
Summary- Clarice Starling gave up a chance at a husband and children when she became a special agent, and has remained, though she denies it, very much a child herself. An alternate ending to Hannibal in which Dr. Lecter shows her just how much she missed out by giving up the experience of settling down.
Union Station, Washington D.C.
"It resents you more than the husband and children you gave up to it. Why is that, you think? Why are you so resented, Clarice?"
Slamming her car door, Clarice Starling paused, trying to figure out where he was. "Tell me."
"Tell you?" By the musician, Lecter grinned and shook his head, dropped a coin into the container. "God bless. No Clarice, I think it's about time you told me, you never did say why you gave such a lifestyle up. What is it about the F.B.I. that has you pulled in so deep?"
She passed him and entered the building as Lecter had done, tried again to listen for some clue as to where he was. "I don't know, I just decided that I wanted to do this."
"You don't want children?"
It was a difficult question, she tried to avoid it. "I don't know."
"Come now Clarice, do you or do you not want children?" A music box, it sounded like . . . . The merry-go-round! She hurried to it, ignoring the men she knew were following her.
"I suppose I do, yes, yes I do want children."
"There, was that so bad? How old are you now Clarice, 35?"
"Nice guess, 34."
"Ahh, that's right, two years of training after college. And how do you propose you'll have children when you're going for advancement? It'll be harder the older you are, physically to conceive and bear any children, you know that Clarice. Though I'm not trying to push you, you are, very much, still a child yourself."
She spotted him on the merry go round, he grinned down at her and when he thought she would watch him turn she jumped onto it, took the horse next to him and turned the phone off. "How can you say that?"
He was slow in turning his own off. "Now Clarice, try not to be too insulted. I simply meant that you haven't seen everything just because you've been all over, you tend to act like I'm telling you what you already know."
"I do not, how do I act that way?"
"For one thing, you don't want to know, you want to know how. You're exploring very basic elements of life that most common people are still exploring, you are not common, Clarice, or else I would not associate myself with you."
"I don't see them anymore."
"Who?"
"Those men."
"They're two seats back, I felt the ride moved when the larger got on and both smell, you don't smell them?"
"No."
"Huh. Well, looks like we'd better try and get away." he took her hand and without further to do, hauled her off the ride and they hit the floor on their knees, both were quick to get up and start running. The buffoon Italians were nowhere in sight, which could be good or bad, on their way out, he made her stop by the photo booth.
"Wha . . . ."
He sighed, exasperated. "Just grab the box inside and let's go."
She obeyed, didn't bother admiring the expensive name and followed him, her hand still in his, out of the building, he was indeed very healthy. She thanked God she was. Both stopped with pained screams when a sharp, indescribable pain stabbed them in the backs, and both fell, writhing and moaning in pain. One Italian, which Clarice nicknamed bonehead because he did not check her purse or shoes, lifted her and tossed her into the back of the newly pulled up van, the other slugged Lecter twice, waited for him to be slightly unconscious before he tied him up in front of her, and he sat on a milk crate once the doors closed, terrified, she moved from her spot and hung over Lecter. "Doctor? Doctor are you ok?"
He groaned and hissed. "I'm actually kind of 'hungry', are you all right? Does your back tingle?"
She thought for a second, then shook her head in the negative. "No, no not really, a little."
"Good, it didn't burn your nerves then."
"What the hell was that?"
"A phaser." (Sp?)
"You're ok though? He didn't break your jaw or anything?"
"No, no, but I most certainly will be bruised."
"Ay!" Buffoon began talking to her fluently in Italian, apparently the only language he knew. Lecter hissed and responded in just as good Italian, which left Clarice both breathless in awe and admiration. Buffoon began cursing at Lecter and raised his fist to his him when Clarice sat back and let her booted foot go forward, cracked him in the jaw. Stunned, Buffoon looked to her and she told him. "Hands off." Which he clearly understood just as well.
When they arrived at Verger's home Bonehead tried to get Lecter onto some type of dolly, but Clarice threatened him by raising her boot, and Buffoon quickly warned him to do otherwise. Clarice grabbed Lecter's wrist and when Buffoon tried to escort her other ways she stomped towards him, her eyes threatening him his life. He let them walk ahead, phasers out, ready to zap if the two made a wrong move. Cordell met them at the front, shocked that Lecter was not tied up but when Clarice warned him parting them would be deadly, he simply led them to the lounge, where Mason rolled in shortly after.
He shouted something difficult to understand, it was in Latin, she assumed and his voice slurred so much that it would have been difficult otherwise. She understood, perfectly well, the rest of what was said.
"Ring any bells from high school biology, doctor?"
Lecter seemed to look amused, rather than upset, his hand slid from Clarice's wrist to her hand, where he squeezed gently.
"No? Well, I could list it's most conspicuous features if that would help, jog the memory. 3 pairs of incisors, 1 pair of elongated canines, 3 pairs of molars, 4 pairs of pre molars, upper and lower, for a total of . . . ."
"44 teeth." Clarice interjected, annoyed by the spectacle.
"Special agent Starling, or is it ex special agent?" He chuckled as best as he could. "Well, well, well, we shall have to set an extra place for you. Cordell? See to that Miss Starling, may I call you Clarice?"
"No."
He was surprised, but tried to uphold his dignity. "See that Miss Starling has a place during dinner." His attention turned back to Lecter, and he tried as best as he could to say. "The meal will begin with an hors d'oeuvres tartetar." He gazed downwards as he announced. "Your feet. Miss Starling, you speak French, enlighten me, what does that mean?"
Even Lecter seemed to be interested in what she had to say. "A raw appetizer." She choked, suddenly not liking the situation at all.
"The uh, rest of you and the main course won't be served until seven hours later, but during that time you'll be able to enjoy the effects of the consumed appetizer with the full body saline drip." He played coy. "I guess you wish you'd fed the rest of me to the dogs."
Clarice would have responded the exact same way, and laughed when Lecter did, which made Mason less than pleased indeed. "No Mason, I much prefer you the way you are."
Pissed, and insulted, Mason declared. "So, dinner at eight." And turned the chair around and went back to where he came from.
When he had rode away, Clarice looked up at Lecter. "Sorry."
"You see, you ARE a child."
R&R, tell me what you think.
