{A/N: I just want people who support the Hannigraham ship to just be quiet. If you want Hannigraham smut then go somewhere else. There is a reason that there is now a Hannibal TV version of the story and a Hannibal/Silence of the Lambs version. Gay Sex Machine, I am a supporter of homosexuality and I do not have spite for them in any way. I simply am a Clannibal shipper and if you want to discuss this with me personally, I would be glad to shut you up. Otherwise, leave my fanfiction alone. I am sick of Hannigraham shippers coming into the movie version of the story and ruining Clannibal shippers. You're not the only ship. For people thinking that Clarice seems vulnerable, I had a reason to make it so.}
Chapter 3
Clarice watched him carefully, thinking about something. The prospect of just abandoning her home, her job, her life, seemed hardly frightening, but exciting, adventurous. It was a chance for a whole new life. Clarice wanted this. She knew that Dr. Lecter would treat her well. She was prepared to drop everything and leave, as she saw it a way for the both of them to escape their pasts. When Dr Lecter spoke and put forward his idea, Clarice nodded. It seemed fairly straightforward. It seemed that both of them would have to fake their deaths. "How are we going to be able to do this, Dr Lecter? The concept is rational, but the deed itself.." She said, glancing around the room casually, trying to think of ideas. Clarice was fairly certain that Dr Lecter's intelligence would come in extremely handy in this situation. She was convinced that they could do it. What she lacked, but was sure that he didn't, was the genius needed to make the operation run smoothly. Dr Lecter had that.
Hannibal smiled wickedly and kissed the back of her hand. When he raised his head, he flicks open the blade of his Harpy. "I have my ideas, Clarice. Now then, I believe it prudent to consider our options. I would love to discuss it further, but.. we will need to take some time with this plan. We are still incognito." He heaved a confident sigh and winked. "Did you ever doubt my abilities, Special Agent Clarice Starling?"
"Of course not.." The thought of murder hardly bothered her anymore, after working in an environment where murder and death looms like a dark cloud. "Participants.." She murmured. The people had to have no connection with her or Dr. Lecter. Clarice was sure with hours and hours of careful planning, they could pull off the perfect plan to rid themselves of their past lives all together, and start afresh. It was what Clarice would like, and she was sure it was what Dr Lecter wanted, as he was the one who suggested it. Clarice still felt an air of peculiarity around her. It really was like being in a dream. This time yesterday she was asleep, living her life as she would, but most likely about to wake up and hear the oh-so-familiar screaming. Clarice was so certain that Dr Lecter could make it cease. He predicted rightly that the screaming would stop after Clarice aided the rescue of Catherine Martin. Clarice did not know if he knew that the screaming resumed a few months later. She would have to ask him at the right moment.
"Participants to assist us, Clarice.." He chuckled and patted her cheek with his a bare knuckle, barely grazing her chin. "You'll see in due time. For now, let us get some rest. I'm sure you're tired. I did not mean to intrude at such late an hour, but it was necessary." Hannibal said all the while placing delicate kisses on the back of her hand, his own gliding over the contours of her shoulder and neck. "You're a divine sight, my Love." He smiled warmly, satiated by her presence and by the turn of events that had come to be. Taking her in his arms, one arm underneath her legs and the other cradling her by her back, he carried her upstairs to her bedroom and placed her down. "Get some rest, Clarice. I believe we will have much to discuss in the morning. If ever you need anything, I'll be downstairs on the couch." He found it rude to share a bed with a woman unless given permission. He always gave her the control she desired. He wanted to understand her and her to understand him. He was not the same. He was not a Beast anymore. He was a Protector, a Guardian. At all costs, he would protect his beloved. "Pleasant dreams, my Love."
Clarice was exhausted, and henceforth allowed him to carry her upstairs. She was too tired to really comprehend the situation properly, and with that she simply nodded at his words. Clarice picked up the words 'murder' in his speech. She buried her face in the pillow and mumbled. "The case files don't seem to add up..". Her tone was sleepy, and she found herself already dropping off.
"Pleasant dreams, my Love." He whispered soothingly before placing a delicate kiss on her forehead and departing swiftly. He was confused at her random statement, but he ignored it. Slowly, he succumbed to his exhaustion and fatigue. The plans still whirred in his mind until his memory palace went on hiatus.
Clarice mumbled something quietly as she quickly fell into a deep sleep, his last moment of warmth guiding her into a state of unconsciousness. Her exhaustion swallowed her whole as she drifted off with the situation sinking in slowly as she entered sleep. The sleep she was slipping into was a type of unconsciousness that she had not experienced since the rescue of Catherine. But even that had worn off. Clarice did not believe that this would wear off.
White slowly overtook her vision, a high pitched howl flooding her ears before quickly fading away. The sun light was slowly breaking through the tall windows in the bedroom. Realizing it was a different milieu than the living room she had last resided in, she quickly remembered the night before. Turning around frantically, she saw emptiness. Her pillow was absent of wrinkles, but a scent hung in the air - a scent oddly familiar to her, but at the same time ambiguous.
"Good morning." The silence was broken. The monster appeared before her, a tall looming figure in the white light.
Gun. Where was her gun? That was the only thought that flashed in Clarice's mind like a mad siren.
He could easily see the outline of her face – every detail, pristine in nature. She was so pure. That was how he saw her. It was a shame. The perspectives of the two were so large in contrast. A content smile smoothed onto his lips before he set the food on a nearby table after pulling it close to the bed for easy access. "My Love, I believe it is time to eat up."
For a moment she was somewhat confused believing it to be a mirage, but then the reality sunk in as Dr. Lecter kissed her sweetly on the lips. It was a cold feeling, and immediately, she felt chills shooting up her spine. "Dr Lecter." She said uneasily before she glanced to the left and looked at the clock. It was half an hour before she had to arrive at the Bureau. She shook her head for a brief moment, pushing the thought of work out of her mind. Clarice felt odd, a strange embarrassment as looking so rough in the presence of Dr. Lecter. She was typically well-dressed, but obviously not in the morning. Clarice breathed in, and the aromas from his cooking reached her nose. She wanted to ask about her work, but she didn't think that this was the moment. Clarice left it, looking at the clock again. If she didn't turn up, Jack would probably call her up to check on her. How amusing that would be, Jack Crawford asking how she was as she faked an illness of some sort, when really she was subject the company of someone who was so notoriously wanted by the FBI. A sense of uneasiness settled in her heart. It was a heavy feeling, dragging her down. Her eyes then locked onto her gun, placed neatly on the top of her nightstand.
"Please Clarice, address me casually. Hannibal is fine. No need to use my professional alias." He gave a warm smile before placing a delicate kiss on the crown of her head. "Freshly squeezed orange juice, pork sausages, unfortunately," He gestured to each food with a flat hand. The short pause at the sausages made him chuckle slightly, "… Hash browns with some sautéed mushrooms and a side of peppers in case you're in the mood for something spicy to wake you up. I made use of your kitchen, I hope you don't mind. Enjoy." He spread a napkin onto her lap. "I trust that you slept well?" Hannibal took a seat next to her, his hands running along her back to identify any uncomfortable spots in her muscles. He gently pressed in and freed any knots that ran along her shoulders and back to give her some relief before eating. "While you eat, I'll be glad to discuss the plans with you." He proclaimed with clasped hands. Gazing at her with raised eyebrows, he pursed his lips. "What do you think?"
No response. Clarice could only look at him in shock before her eyes transitioned into a blank stare.
"Clarice, I have everything planned out."
"I am willing to let you escape, Dr. Lecter." Clarice looked up at Hannibal with a strong gaze. A sting of rejection reflected in Hannibal's eyes as he had realized a forsaken statement. "What is left in you to love?" Lady Murasaki had appeared before him. The image faded away and Clarice sat in front of him. He cradled her hands, each delicate digit laced between his without a slightest tremor.
He never noticed when his hands became empty until the sound of a gun loaded. The barrel of a gun pointed in front of his face. "I am giving you one last chance, Doctor Lecter. Leave instantly." This time, her gun did not waver like her first encounter with Buffalo Bill. This man was different. If anything, he was the most fearsome man of all. The only reason she was not afraid was simply because that moment was predestined. She was trained for this, anyways.
"Alright, Clarice." He stared blankly at her before his gaze wavered and he lowered his head; however, a smile melted onto his lips and he raised his hands up in the air, almost mockingly and pressed them against the back of his head, standing up. He treaded backwards to the door, her gun never leaving his sight. "I hope to see you soon, Clarice." The famous wink and he stepped through the door, disappearing in the corridors.
Clarice had rushed to the door, keeping her back against the wall before peeking through her hallways only to discover silence. No one in the kitchen. No one in the living room. No one. She was alone now. She then let out a deep exhalation. It was at that moment of his absence that fear made its way to her. Grunting in frustration, she held her face in her hands, trying to make sense of the situation, of everything. She felt stupid. She was so vulnerable, letting the man invite himself into her home like that. In the end, everything felt like a dream. She thought it was a dream. "I thought.." She closed her eyes almost in defeat. What would her father have done in this situation? Tears welled up in her eyes, a moment of sentimentality. In the end, she realized that whether or not it was a dream, her subconscious wanted the same thing, which was to be with Hannibal. With furrowed eyebrows, she blinked, making sense of her newfound dilemma.
The doorbell rang, startling the agent. Keeping the gun at her side, she approached the door. Another ring, and she paused, waiting a moment longer.
The door swung open slightly. Hannibal?
"Clarice Starling?" A man had said, almost in a muffled tone. He was in a black vest with a red and white plaid shirt and a dull fedora of an oak color. The decorations of fishing lines were laced into his hat.
"Who are you?"
He took off the hat, revealing a messy portrait that Picasso would have defined as a 'masterpiece'. "I'm Ex-Special Investigator Will Graham… I need to discuss something with you that is of importance, Special Agent Starling."
{A/N: Don't forget to comment/follow.
I hope you guys realize where I'm going with the vulnerability of Clarice. I had hoped to make parallels to her at the end of Hannibal if you know what I mean. I honestly see Clarice as mildly confused about Dr. Lecter right now. That's how I want it to be so. If you're against it, then by all means, read another fanfiction. }