NGL, I'm no stranger to fanfiction, but this is my first Silence of the Lambs fic. Now, I have seen the film, and I'm making my way through the book series, so I know a bit, but if anything is wrong, don't hesitate to let me know. Politely of course, we all know how important manners are. Onwards and upwards, enjoy, and review!
The tell-tale footfalls, echoing around the hollow corridor, alerted Lecter to Clarice's arrival. He closed his eyes and savoured the clean-cut sound.
"Good afternoon, Agent Starling." Came the dungeon tones from behind the reinforced glass. Clarice nodded tightly, "Afternoon, Doctor."
"What joys have you brought me today, my dear?" Dr. Lecter smiled with a predatory look, finally opening his dark eyes.
"A nice case file on Buffalo Bill, sir." Clarice smiled bravely back, wondering what was on the Doctor's admittedly brilliant mind. His smile gave nothing away, and his face was impassive.
"How quaint." Was all the Doctor said, and handled the papers delicately once Clarice had sent them through. Flipping through the pages, the pair stayed silent.
Clarice marvelled at the fact that the other prisoners seemed to be perpetually quiet when they had their meetings. She wondered if they were always this calm.
"Agent Starling, if I may have your attention...?" Lecter asked courteously.
"Yes, Doctor?" Clarice pulled herself out of her musings, "What is it?"
"Our Billy likes his girls larger, doesn't he? Why do you think he prefers them big, Agent Starling?"
"I can't be sure, Doctor. There is often a sexual element to these types of cases, and-" Clarice paused, a touch uncomfortable. Dr. Lecter noticed immediately.
"And what, Clarice? Do tell, don't keep me waiting." Something about the command was all the more chilling in that metallic voice of his.
"A-and, to my knowledge, men seem to prefer, uh, larger women." Clarice struggled, tripping over words. Lecter grinned, showing off cat's teeth. He allowed himself to look at her, really look at her, take in all that she was physically.
"Not all, my dear, I assure you." The barest hint of red bloomed in Clarice's cheeks, and she took a deep, cleansing breath.
"No, I'm sure you're right." Clarice said quietly, shifting in her fold-out chair, hearing the awkward squeaks of the cheap plastic and metal.
"I had a patient, for example," the Doctor continued, watching Clarice like a hawk, "who couldn't stand fat on a sexual partner's body. It was an anathema to him, to the point of revulsion. I admit my personal tastes run close to his, but I am far more gracious than he when it comes to, how shall I say, curves." Lecter let the last word rasp, almost if he was grating it in his throat. He spoke slowly, enjoying the words, and the effect they seemed to be having on his little Starling.
Clarice shifted again. The Doctor watched her shapely legs move under her modest skirt, and remembered the errant psychological fact: when a woman is aroused, she may cross and uncross her legs, as a way of presenting good leg muscles. He grinned triumphantly.
"How do your tastes run, Agent Starling?" Blushing redder now, Clarice gaped.
"Dr. Lecter, I hardly think it is appropriate-"
"Quid pro quo, Clarice," he reminded her, "You tell me things, I tell you things, everyone's happy." He turned on his bed to face her fully, almost as if the glass seperating them had evaporated, and it was only them in the dank corridor. His fingertips came together and his head inclined, awaiting her reply.
"I'm not particularly fussy, Doctor, I don't really have what you would call tastes. So, why does he prefer larger girl-"
"Tut-tut-tut, Clarice. That's not nearly enough for another question. Surely you have in mind the so-called 'perfect man'?" Clarice opened her mouth, and shut it again. She was at loss for how to appease him enough for another question. She screwed up her courage.
"Someone who can understand my job; its demands and its importance to me, someone who is kind, smart, caring, courteous, brave, respects me and my mind. Someone who knows me, inside and out, and knows how to make me smile after a bad day." Clarice let out a breath.
"It seems to me, Clarice, what you want is a father," a pause, "someone who is 'brave' like your dead father, who is 'caring' and who 'knows you'?"
There was a silence, as Clarice reflected on this. Doctor Lecter rarely said anything without meaning, and as hurtful as some of his statement were, they did have grains of truth in them.
"Maybe, sir." Clarice said quietly. She knew that she yearned for her father, but it hadn't really crossed her mind to look at her romantic partners, not that there were many. She had had a crush on her Criminal Sciences professor at university, a kind, considerate, middle-aged man. He had listened to her and shown her kindness, and although nothing ever came of it, a crush had bloomed rather quickly.
Ardelia couldn't understand why boys their own age, at the academy didn't interest her. Suddenly, it hit her like a lightning bolt; Clarice didn't want boys, she wanted men, with maturity and experience.
And now her fascination with Doctor Hannibal Lecter was threatening to become as such, and he fitted into the profile. Who knew a law enforcer's job better than a criminal? Who had talked Miggs into suicide after he disrespected her, listened attentively to her as she talked, and who respected her mind and encouraged it, giving her clues rather than answers, confident in her intellectual capability?
Oh, dear Lord, thought Clarice.
"Doctor Lecter, I must go, I'll see you, uh, soon." Hurriedly collecting her things, Clarice walked fast towards the sliding gates, leaving Hannibal smirking slightly.
I don't know if I'll continue this, it depends on how I feel, and the amount of reviews I get.