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Clarice was 17 years old, in her final year at the Bozeman Lutheran Home, when she had heard about the arrest of Hannibal “The Cannibal” Lecter. It was all she could do not to go to bed and thank the Lord - if He indeed existed - that she had not met that “Hannibal.” Surely, she reasoned, there were other Hannibal’s in the world. She ignored the fact that she on her way to be a criminal justice and psychology major. And that he was a criminal and a psychiatrist.
Jack Crawford’s office, almost eight years later, was very lightly decorated. There was leftover paint on the walls from furniture moved, and most of the office seemed to be in a state of just slight disrepair. Starling shifted in her seat as Crawford continued to spout off about qualifications and all that jack shit that would hold her up from getting into Behavioral Science once she graduated.
“Do you spook easily, Starling?”
“Not yet, sir.”
“See, we’ve tried to interview and examine all of the serial murderers we have in custody. To build up a profile, of sorts. Most were willing to cooperate. But the one we want most, we haven’t been able to get. I want you to go after him tomorrow in the asylum.”
Clarice Starling felt a glad knocking in her chest and some apprehension, too. Mostly apprehension.
“Who’s the subject?”
“The psychiatrist - “
Starling felt her stomach drop.
“Hannibal Lecter,” he finished. The trainee was apparently unaware of her ghost-like appearance. Crawford observed her to have almost suddenly fainted, or she was simply mortified.”You alright, Clarice?”
She took a moment, looked down at her hands in her lap, and then back up to her superior. “Just fine, Mr. Crawford. A little nervous, that’s all, sir.” Then, something she had just thought of. She had an opportunity and she seized it. No need to tell either of them. She could get this done, and it could work out well for her. “Also, um, sir. I would prefer that you use my middle name if you would like to address me so personally. Clarice is my aunt’s name, and it just confused things for me when I was little.” Bullshit. “Marie is fine, for the time being.” Crawford seeing Starling so nervous left him simply off the rest of the day, at least until he took two aspirin.
Marie Starling had made her introductions to Dr. Chilton. To herself, and only to herself, she contemplated who the slimy doctor’s soulmate truly was. A voice in the back told her that the only suitable name for Frederick’s soulmate would be Hishand. Starling had to keep herself from smiling before greeting the orderly. It was a stupid joke. It shouldn’t have been that funny.
“Dr. Lecter, my name is Marie Starling. May I speak with you?”
The prisoner got up from his cot and slowly approached Clarice, before greeting her. She started to explain to him the situation they had at Quantico, but he cut her off with a raised hand. “You’re one of Jack Crawford’s, I expect.”
“I am, yes.”
“May I see your credentials?’
“Umm. Dr. Lecter, I’m still in training at the Academy and therefore I don’t yet have credentials.”
Jack Crawford’s freshly-printed temporary ID card sat in her bag. Despite her request to be called Marie in his presence, “STARLING, CLARICE M.” was printed in bold on the card. So much for that.
“I see.” He moved toward his small bed once again.
“Excuse me, Doctor, but I do have this badge Mr. Crawford gave to me just in case you didn’t believe me.” Lecter cracked a wide smile at that. “I also have papers containing his sign-off for this meeting. Will that suffice, sir?”
“I think so. Although I do wonder why Jack Crawford sent a trainee to me. But that’s besides the point. Now then, what did Miggs say to you?”
Hannibal Lecter could hear Starling’s inexpensive shoes long after they clicked their way down the dungeon hallway. Migg’s particularly foul stench permeated the air, so much that Dr. Lecter retreated to the far opposite side of his cell as to avoid smelling it. He thought of the girl. MA-RIE. He sounded it out. MAA-REE. Heavy on his lips. MARIE Starling. It had an interesting ring to it. Was there a chance that it was not just Marie Starling, and that she was actually the Clarice he had been looking for for the past fifty years of his life? Yes. Was it probable? Definitely not. However, with four life sentences remaining on his sentence, he wasn’t quite sure when he was going to meet another woman, mind with or without the name Clarice. In addition, he highly doubted there were any men named Clarice around, so that ruled out that option. Hannibal’s upper lip nearly completely enveloped that of his lower. He bit softly. Maybe he had missed his Clarice because of his incarceration.
While the doctor would not claim to know the plan of the fates, if they in anyway resembled his relationship with God, he was quite sure he was, crudely put, fucked.
“Years of silence, and then Jack Crawford sends down his girl and you just went to jelly, didn’t you? What was it that got you, Hannibal? Was it those good, hard ankles? The way her hair shines? She’s glorious, isn’t she? Remote and glorious. A winter sunset of a girl, that’s the way I think of her. I know it’s been some time since you’ve seen a winter sunset, but take my word for it.
“Do you still think you’re going someplace with a window? I don’t think so. I called Senator Ruth Martin and she never heard of any deal with you. She never heard of Marie Starling, either. Only some twenty something hick named Clarice with a knack for slutting herself around for cheap ambition. She got you, Hannibal. She got me, too, and she still has Jack Crawford.
“You must really be slipping, old man. Not only did you refuse to pick up on her phony deal, you never even knew her real name. She did it to save her reputation, I suppose, in case something backfired. She could say Clarice Starling never failed to save Miss Martin, Marie Starling did.”
Chilton attributed Hannibal’s sudden willingness to cooperate to Frederick’s own master manipulation. The cannibal was just excited to tell everyone Buffalo Bill’s name in exchange for a real sunset.
Freddie would never realize how right he really was.
Starling knew Chilton had fucked it up. Now in more ways than one.
“Good evening, Clarice,” he said. She didn’t falter when he said it.
“I thought you might like your drawings back, Doctor. Just until you get your view.” Keep him where you want him.
“How very thoughtful. Or did Jack Crawford send you for one last wheedle before you’re both booted off the case?”
“I came because I wanted to.” There was more truth to that than she would have liked to admit.
“People will say we’re in love.”
Hannibal felt true, unbridled pain shoot through his being when Clarice Starling flinched at his accusation.