Chapter Text
The air conditioning in the head of Behavioral Science’s office is on full blast. Clarice Starling shivers. She came straight from her morning jog and is still not used to the cold. Clarice is sitting in a rather comfortable plush chair directly across from Jack Crawford. Crawford looks exhausted, the dark circles under his eyes only drawing more attention to the wrinkles that have begun to form along the lines of his weathered face. He’s old enough to have been gone from all of this long ago. She thinks, haunted enough too.
Bedelia is a different story entirely. The psychiatrists face is done up, in elegant shades of cream and light blue. She wears a serene smile and a loose low hanging bun. There are rumors spread in hushed whispers between the other trainees at the academy that she’s had every dress she owns specially tailored to better exhibit the prosthetic that replaced her stolen left leg. Today Clarice can see the gleaming flashes of silver beneath her blue and white color block dress. Bedelia looks at her curiously. Under her gaze Clarice is intensely aware of the myriad of sweat stains on the underarms of her FBI sweatshirt. She averts her eyes.
“Starling. Clarice. Good morning.” Jack frowns, sounding like it’s anything but.
“Good morning Mr. Crawford.” She grins back, polite in her slight southern drawl.
“Your teachers say you’re doing really well.” He musters a small smile. “Top quarter of your class.” He continues shuffling idly through a stack of papers on his crowded desk.
“I would hope so Mr. Crawford. I’ve been working my hardest.”
“I’m sure you have Starling. I’m sure you have.” Crawford sounds conflicted even as praises her.
“Did I..do something sir?” She asks, still unsure why she’s been called to his office in the first place.
“Not at all Starling. I’ve got an assignment. I’ve been keeping an eye on you and it seems like you’re someone I could use.” Clarice nods, eager to help. Behavioral science is a place she can see herself after graduation. It certainly won’t hurt to get her foot in the door now.
“I’ll take anything you have.” She assures him.
“We're trying to interview all of the serial killers now in custody. Would be a big help in unsolved cases. A lot of them are happy to talk. Big ego boost and all that, especially if they’ve been rotting away in dark corners. The two we need the most though? The ones we know could really do some good? They’re refusing to say anything. I don’t get the feeling you scare easily Starling.”
”Who are the subjects?” She asks, dread already pooling in the pit of her stomach.
“Dr. Hannibal Lecter and his husband Will Graham.” It’s the first time Bedelia speaks, voice honey smooth and unconcerned. “They helped catch almost a dozen of their own kind while working in this unit. We are making a last ditch effort to see if either will do the same now.”
“The cannibals who hid in the FBI...” Neither Jack Crawford or Bedelia respond. They just study her face and wait for a more definite reaction. Clarice sets her jaw. “I’ll do it. Of course. “I’m glad for the chance. If I can speak freely though.....Why me?”
Jack sighs. “That’s a question I’ve asked myself. You’re available. Qualified. And to be honest Starling? With the hounding we’re getting from the media about the Bill case the Bureau can’t spare any Agents right now.”
“Not that there’s many they haven’t already sent running with their tails between their legs.” Bedelia reminds Crawford, idly flicking away a piece of lint that has landed on her prosthetic.
“Listen Starling. We don’t expect them opening up. We just need to be able to say we’ve tried. You’ll be lucky if Graham speaks more than two words to you. And Lecter was a top notch psychiatrist. He knows all the usual dodges.
“Information packet on them, copy of our questionnaire. It’s got some information on the case, most of its publicized. Have them get what they can from this. We’ll send you with something more detailed if you get to that point. There’s also a temporary ID for you.” Crawford slides her a crisp manila envelope, packed to the brim with papers, across the table. “If they won't talk, then I want straight reporting.” He continues.
“How do they look, how do their cells look, what's Hannibal drawing, what’s Will crafting.” Bedelia interjects.
“The Director himself will see your signature - if I think it's good enough. I want the report by eight o’clock Wednesday, and I want this quiet. We need you to keep this to yourself.” Crawford finishes.
“Jack’s very concerned about sending a trainee in.” Bedelia tells her. “Hannibal doesn’t have a very good track record with them. I told him that it might make Will angry. And that’s our best shot at getting Graham to talk. Hannibal will probably speak to you. But the words will be empty, roundabouts, metaphorical bullshit if you will.” She laughs dryly.
“I made the mistake of letting Will Graham get too wrapped up in the bullshit. You won’t have the same problem. After each visit you will attend a mandatory session with Dr. Du Maurier. She’ll be the one to monitor your mental state and if she thinks you’re getting too close? I’ll pull you out immediately and put you on paid leave.”
“As you know I’m personally familiar with their case.” Bedelia runs a hand over her metal leg to prove her point. “Which is why Jack chose me. I can recognize the warning signs. Let’s hope you don’t have any.”
“Starling I want you to give me your full attention.” Jack grabs her wrist. “Be very careful with them. Dr. Chilton at the asylum will go over the physical procedures used. Do not deviate from it, for any reason. You tell them nothing personal, Starling. Believe me, you don't want these men crawling around inside your head... Just do your job, but never forget what they are.”
She nods gravely. “I won’t.”