FIGHTING TRUTHS

It had been three days since the news broadcast had informed Hannibal and Clarice of their danger. They had spent the time at home, ignoring phone calls and not going outside. Most of the time, they reminisced on what they had done during their time together. They talked of the great places they had visited in both Europe and South America. They talked about their great artistic endeavours from symphonies to operas and the great parties they hosted at their home. No one had ever recognized them before. They had always thought the trouble was over.

Even though Clarice had only recently become very close to Hannibal, they had made great use of the advance in their relationship. During the evening of the third day, Clarice was curled up in the doctor's arms. They were in their cozy living room lying on a soft, leather couch by a lit fireplace. Rain was falling outside the window creating a faint tapping sound against the glass.

"Hannibal," Clarice said, "we cannot keep hiding like this."

Hannibal sighed, "I know, my dear. I am thinking about what our next best move is. It will not be easy to remove ourselves from this place."

"But," she protested, "we need to act quickly. People will soon see the signs, hear the broadcasts, see the news bulletins and they will recognize us. They have our address. They have our information, whether or not it is real. We could be in a lot of trouble! Your patients, Hannibal, will turn against you in fear, and everyone who knows me at the Louvres will come knocking on our doors with handcuffs waiting!"

"Funny," he chuckled to himself. "Under other circumstances, it would have been you at my door waiting to handcuff me."

She wondered for a moment. She still believed in everything she had been taught in her FBI training. She would never completely abandon her morals, despite the fact that she was living in love with a serial killer. But, she thought, he has not committed any crimes for such a long time. He is really quite… placid and charming. Of course she would never let him commit those crimes again. She had hoped Ardelia would have remembered that before she made her accusations. She was suddenly quite bitter.

"You know I will never let you kill again," she said. "And if you did, I'm not sure what I would do… I would be devastated. I would have to leave you. I mean, I always thought I knew how yo –."

"Clarice, please." Hannibals maroon eyes flashed. "I would never do anything to displease you. Not on purpose, anyways. I cannot change my past, or my actions, even if I wanted to. You must realize that I am far from perfect. I am only human, Clarice, as are you. We sometimes cannot control our impulses, the way we think, what we do. We sometimes need to act upon our feelings simply to keep our minds in tact."

She looked at him quizzically.

He continued, "for example, you were changed, Clarice, by the death of your father and by your experiences on the ranch; the screaming lambs. Do not try and deny it. Ever since those unfortunate occurrences, you have made it your life's duty to save the lamb; save the world. Your joining the FBI is not a coincidence, but a necessity. It helps you feel that you are getting justice against those who were unjust to you."

She winced at the blunt way he talked of her past. She said suddenly, "what about you? Can you tell me exactly why you killed all those people, Hannibal? Why did you feel the need to become God?"

She had caught him off guard, slightly, but he recovered with tact. "Naturally, it is difficult for me to talk of myself in such a manner. As you are aware, Clarice, I did not have a glorious childhood, given the death of my parents and younger sister." Clarice heard a slight tension in his voice, "I told you before what they did to Mischa that winter, out in the barn. She was like your lamb, Clarice. The children were being slaughtered unfairly, unjustly, and eventually they slaughtered her and… consumed her."

Clarice honestly hated to bring him to his knees emotionally. But, perhaps if she could understand him a little better, she wouldn't feel so separated from him. "Why did that make you kill all of those people?"

"They were unfair to us. They were rude. I cannot stand rude people, and you know that. From that point, although I tried to forget what they did, I had no tolerance for those who lacked proper manners and consideration. I simply had to remove those people that displeased me."

"Like the flutist in the Baltimore Philharmonic," she said with a heavy sigh.

"And Paul Krendler," he added softly. "I know it angers you, Clarice, but I wanted to show you how far I would go. I only meant to do to him what he already mentally had done to you. You deserve better than the life the FBI was providing you with. You deserve more, my little Starling."

Battling again with her morals, Clarice finally accepted his consideration. He was giving her a compliment the only way he could. She knew he would always kill for her because, to him, death was the ultimate sacrifice. Likewise, Clarice would always protect him because, to her, life was the ultimate gift.

"Thank you," she said, finally. "What now?"

Hannibal thought for a moment. "I think that we need to pay close attention to the media. Waiting seems to be our only option."

Clarice sat up and released herself from his arms. Frustrated, she moved to the chair across the room, and sat down. She faced him and said, "there's simply not enough time to wait. We know that they have our information. We need to leave this place."

"There is nowhere to go," he replied. "Where can we go, Clarice? Can we run forever? Can we camp in the mountains like the Von Traps? We have no choice but to wait here because, like you said, Clarice, everyone will recognize us. Everyone will have seen our pictures so we are not safe anywhere. Now, what do you think?"

Clarice was taken aback for a moment, then said, "what if we turned ourselves in? They will see that the killer is still out there when more people are attacked. We will, of course, be accused of other things bu –."

"Not you, Clarice; me. You have done nothing wrong. I –."

"Hannibal," she cut him off, "I would not turn back now if I could. I… I love you too much to let you fight this battle alone. Surely we could try and explain ourselves. I could prove to them that you are not insane. You would not need to be imprisoned."

"Once they had me, you know they would never let me out alive. You cannot prove something that you are unsure of yourself. Are you not still afraid of me, Clarice?"

She realized that he had a point. There was simply no way of predicting the doctor's behaviour. He had successfully justified his desire to kill, but he never said that he had overcome his urges. "I am afraid, but not of you. I do not wish to see you incarcerated again. I could not stand to see you caged."

A slight smile curled his lips. "That's my girl," he whispered. He cast his eyes away from her and towards the window. Rain was falling still and thunder could be heard in the distance. "If you will wait with me, we can see what chances we will have. I will leave a message at my office explaining my absence. You can call the museum and simply say that you've found another job. If they protest, do not wait to hang up the phone. We have enough food here to last us another week. By then, I hope to have a plan. The gates outside are locked and this house is very secluded. I feel that we have some time before we really need worry."

"What if they come for us?" Clarice asked.

"If they come," he said, "then I will turn myself in, and you will be spared. You cannot argue; you have committed no crime."

Clarice walked back over to Hannibal and rejoined him on the couch by the fire. She wrapped her arms around his unmoving body and gently kissed his mouth.

As she settled into his welcoming chest, she whispered, "I will stay with you until the end."