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His Memory Palace was a place to visit only in the conscious state of mind; however, occasionally Dr. Lecter would enter in his sleep.
Traveling the expansive hallways, pushed by an invisible force, Hannibal found himself in front of Clarice’s room.
Upon entry, a girl. She was facing away from him, in chains and tied to chair. She looked towards the windows in the back of the room.
“This is not your room,” Lecter heard himself speak. It was more harsh than he had anticipated. Raw. He wondered if he was actually speaking. Any association between Clarice and his sister could have undesirable consequences.
The girl made no movement; instead she grew. She was now much older than Starling, her hair grown and dark, her figure tall and long. Still, she remained in the chair.
“Please, my lady. This is not -” Another shift, suddenly.
He could not tie either of the women to Starling. Any thought of the three women as the same being, whether in the subconscious or conscious, could prove detrimental to him. He couldn’t allow it.
Now his Clarice sat in the chair. Unlike the previous occupants, she pulled and fought against the restraints, at least until she saw him.
“Dr. Lecter.”
The chains settled around her.
“Clarice.” His voice was barely a murmur when he replied. He moved to the chains quickly, searching and searching for a lock. Minutes passed, to no avail.
“Doctor,” she began to speak again. “You know why it’s not working. Please, stop. It won’t do anything.”
Hannibal ignored her, denying the inevitable for another minute before pulling away. Her hands, bound in handcuffs, rested delicately on her head. Starling attempted to free herself again.
“Clarice, why do you think you cannot break from your chains?”
“This isn’t about me, Doctor. I can take care of myself just fine.”
The sarcasm in her statement did not go unnoticed. She continued to struggle, fighting against everything - battering herself. Red marks appeared around her wrists and ankles. She was hopeless. “Why do you care to see me free? I never thought the same for you.”
Given the chance, would you deny me my life?
No. No, not your life.
Just my freedom, then?
Hannibal could not fathom a response to that.
It’d be much simpler to kill her. A quick snap, that’s all it would take. No, he rethought. That would damage her spine. There would be a chance that it wouldn’t work, and her pain would be immense. It would have to be slower, still nearly painless though, his hands slipping around her neck and remaining there, pressing until all the interesting left her. Hannibal shuddered at the thought.
“You could kill me, Dr. Lecter,” she stated simply, reading him. “It’d make a lot of people very happy.”
“No.”
“Why not? What were there… fourteen, that we knew of? What’s another, in the grand scheme of things?”
“Clarice, please.” He then went to her again, pulling at the chains.
“Don’t help me.” Her face was a snarl, then. No longer a fresh-faced FBI trainee. He admired the change. Anger suited her. “Either leave me alone or kill me. Both would be satisfying enough, in my opinion. Maybe even for you. No one else will have enough incentive to find you. No one will look for you - you’ll finally be free again.”
The doctor watched as she continued to try to rid herself of the chains. He would have pitied her, had he not known she would have hated him for it. The process was both beautiful and disturbing. A woman so strong, so powerful, and yet she cannot cut the ties that destroy her. He cocked his head.
“Dr. Lecter, you know I have to do this myself. You can’t help me.” Despite her words, her face was full of pain. It took every ounce of the doctor’s strength not to come back to her and comfort.
Actually, I could help her. He offered a sad smile.
It would be so easy.
“You promised me, Doctor. I have to figure it out myself.”
She would be so beautiful, even in death. How quickly I could put an end to her suffering. The good doctor shifted closer to the girl. Her loyalties betray her. She can’t change, even though she wants to. I can help.
“Please. It has to be me. I need to get myself out of this mess. Unless…” she trailed off as he approached.
Closer, then, he walked. People would appreciate her death more than her life.
But I wouldn’t.
The doctor made no movement towards the chains, but instead to her nape. Starling’s fate was sealed. She no longer struggled against the restraints, and said no more.
Perfectly still, unflinching, when he moved to touch her.
“I see you’ve made your choice, Doctor. Thank you.”
His hands now around her neck, he pressed. Tears fell. They did not belong to Clarice. The pressure on her neck increased, the coral of her skin encompassed by his palms. His eyes closed as he continued to squeeze. Hers remained open. She did not move, not to stop him, not to hurt him. She relaxed against his chest, even as his grip tightened.
The life did not leave Clarice. Lecter’s eyes opened; he found himself chained in her place. For a second, he was sure his eyes had flickered blue. He saw a hero, but not in himself. Now Starling stood above him, adjusting the handcuffs. He was her prisoner.
Starling’s fingers traced over his wrist, fitting them under the handcuffs to alleviate the pressure. “Thank you, Hannibal,” her words were just a whisper now, above his ear.
They both heard his next breath as she inched closer.
He rested against her.
“No freedom is earned without sacrifice.
In saving her, he enslaved himself.”
If Hannibal had any doubt Clarice Starling would forever be part of his mind, he knew now. Whatever hesitation he had originally felt left him. In trying to save her, he became closer than he could have ever predicted.
Lecter woke, then. Flipping on the television, he saw the same headline that had been on the news for the past week: “CLARICE STARLING: THE FBI’S DEATH ANGEL”.
Hannibal smiled to himself.