silverusagi

Word Count: 3600
Genre: Slash, Drama
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Violence

Summary: Sequel to When the Devil Smiles Back. Three years after Hannibal Lecter’s escape in Memphis, Clarice profiles Will Graham. From there, nothing at all goes as expected.

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3

The hours that followed were uneventful and uncomfortable. The bathroom floor was hard and cold, and remained such, no matter how often Clarice tried to shift position. The bathroom itself was tiny, the cabinet over the old sink being the only fixture in the room. The toilet was right next to the sink, and a small shower took up the rest of the space.

Will had obviously fallen asleep or passed out some time ago. If he was awake again, he had given no indication of it, and the cabin had been completely silent. Clarice had tried several times to figure out exactly how what had happened here connected to everything else, but she hadn’t been able to concentrate, frustration at her own situation getting the better of her.

Clarice had explored the bathroom early on, standing up as far as she could and seeing if there was anything useful in the cabinet, which she managed to open with her nose. There had been nothing that might help her pick the handcuffs. The toilet was right next to her, which was maddening, because she knew the tank would contain a chain with a hook. But even if she could kick off the tank lid, there would be no way she could reach inside, let alone unhook the chain. There wasn’t even a toilet paper holder, which would have had a spring; instead the roll simply sat on the back of the tank. She wished she had been wearing earrings, but suspected that even if she had been, Will wouldn’t have overlooked them. Clarice had also stared entirely too long at the pipes under the sink, even though she knew they were so tight and fixed that she would be unlikely to get them off even if she had the proper tools. She had briefly considered screaming, but had concluded that it would only get her gagged.

It might have seemed strange, but Clarice wasn’t particularly afraid for herself. She didn’t feel any desperate need to escape out of fear or panic. Granted, she hadn’t quite figured Dr. Lecter into the equation when she’d handcuffed herself, and she knew it was arrogance to assume anything where he was concerned, but her gut feeling said that he wouldn’t harm her anymore than he had last time.

She still felt she had made the strategic decision in not provoking Will when she was disarmed and he was desperate. At any rate, she would much rather be handcuffed and waiting for Dr. Lecter, than to have been shot and be relying on Dr. Lecter’s whims to provide medical assistance. Clarice didn’t doubt that he was an excellent surgeon, but that was a position she was quite happy never to be in.

The main reason she wanted to escape was simply so she could alert the FBI. She had come here looking for Will Graham, and she had found him, in a completely different way than she had anticipated. It was difficult to be so close and unable to do anything about it.

The day wore on as the hours passed, and eventually, she heard the low hum of a car. In the stillness it seemed deafening.

Clarice pulled herself to attention, straining her ears for anything that followed.

The car engine was cut, but there was no sound of a door closing or of footsteps outside. The next sound she heard was the cabin door swinging open, its old hinges not completely quiet.

For a moment, there was nothing.

Then Will’s voice cut through the silence. “Hannibal. In here.”

His tone itself must have told Dr. Lecter something, because the footsteps that crossed the old wooden floor were not cautious or silent.

The door was thin, and Clarice could hear without even trying.

Dr Lecter’s steps stopped just past her. “Will.”

“It looks worse than it is,” Will said hoarsely.

“Is that your medical opinion?” Dr. Lecter’s tone was derisive, but warm.

“My informed opinion.”

“Perhaps you are right. You made work of him, at any rate.”

“Indirectly.”

“Cunning as always,” Dr. Lecter said. “You will have to tell me everything that occurred since we were so rudely parted yesterday. But now I really must examine you.”

“There’s something else,” Will said. “There’s a surprise tied up in the bathroom.”

A chuckle from Dr. Lecter. “A guest for dinner?”

“Not exactly.”

Clarice didn’t particularly appreciate being referred to as a surprise, though evidently Will hadn’t yet told Dr. Lecter of her being here. There was dry humor in Will’s voice, and Clarice was struck with the impression that he had neglected to mention her because it amused him to do so.

“You keep me in suspense, Will,” Dr. Lecter said, a smile still in his voice.

“And I’ve given you the means of relieving it.”

“You have indeed.”

There were footsteps then, and Clarice realized Dr. Lecter was seconds away from opening the bathroom door. Her heart sped up. Despite the confidence she had in the chances of her well-being, she knew that anything—absolutely anything—could happen when he opened the door.

The knob turned, and the door opened.

Dr. Lecter’s face was fixed in a blank look of expectation, but when he saw her, his eyes widened and his mouth fell slightly open. On him, it was an expression of complete shock.

“Clarice,” he said, sounding no less astounded.

She heard an amused noise from Will, something between a snicker and a wheeze.

Dr. Lecter’s eyes tracked in Will’s direction, a pleased look flickering over his face, before they landed on her again. “I must admit, this is a surprise.”

“For all of us, Dr. Lecter,” she said. It would be impolite not to reply in some way.

His mouth twitched in a smile that didn’t quite form, and she saw him quickly put together the pieces—her presence, the extra car outside, and the shooting of the man who had held Will.

Then he crouched down in front of her, his head tilting a bit as he caught her gaze. “Tell me, Clarice, who knows you’re here?”

In most cases, the best answer would be that any number of people knew exactly where she was, even if it was a lie. But that would be the worst possible answer here; this was only going to go well if she wasn’t a threat. Not to mention that she had already told Will that there was no one coming, and changing her story wasn’t going to lead to any goodwill in her direction.

“No one,” she said.

Dr. Lecter’s eyes narrowed slightly, his expression reproachful. “I find that difficult to believe.”

“It’s the truth. I didn’t tell anyone where I was going. It was stupid, and clearly I should have,” she said, rattling the handcuffs for emphasis. “I was here looking for information. I never expected to find what I did.”

“What did you expect to find?”

Clarice figured it was better to admit the truth; it was the only plausible reason that she would be investigating serial murders on her own. “I thought there might be a lead, one that could eventually lead me to you and Will.”

There was a spark of interest in his eyes. “Has Jack assigned you to me?”

“No,” Clarice said, nearly smiling in spite of herself. Crawford had kept her as far away from Dr. Lecter’s case as possible. “But I’ve been keeping tabs on unsolved cases on my own. I looked for patterns; I thought maybe I’d found one. I didn’t tell anyone because I didn’t want to put anyone in your path.”

“Yet you put yourself here.”

“Because of personal interest. But I couldn’t live with being directly responsible for the death of anyone I care about. If I were investigating you officially, and I had a lead, that would be different, but I’m not going to push my agenda onto others.” Clarice paused, and then said more quietly, “I’m not going to become Jack Crawford. And that’s why I’m here by myself.”

A slow smile spread across Dr. Lecter’s face. “In that case, I’m flattered to be of personal interest.”

Clarice studied him, frowning slightly at the fact that he didn’t seem to hold it against her. “You don’t care that I’m trying to catch you?”

“I would expect nothing less.” Then Dr. Lecter stood, taking a step out of the bathroom. He glanced away from her and asked, “Any opinions?”

“She’s telling the truth,” Will said.

“I concur.”

Will didn’t explain his thoughts, and Dr. Lecter didn’t ask for his reasoning. He simply accepted Will’s insight at face value.

“I’ll get my bag,” Dr. Lecter said to Will. “Since we are not expecting any company, it will be as convenient to attend to you here.” Then he looked back at her. “You will excuse me.”

With that, he quietly closed the door on her.

For close to two hours, Clarice was left by herself. How much time exactly passed, she couldn’t say. She could only assume that Dr. Lecter was taking all the time he wanted to clean and stitch Will’s wounds. He never came into the bathroom, but she heard the tap in the kitchen, and he undoubtedly carried medical supplies superior to anything that would be found in the medicine cabinet above her head.

Several times, she heard the two of them speaking, but their voices were pitched low enough that she couldn’t make out the words.

Clarice wondered where this situation was ultimately going. The longer she sat, the more uncertainty began to churn in her gut. It was extremely disconcerting knowing that Dr. Lecter was in the next room without knowing exactly what he was up to, even though all logic said he was tending to Will. And while she hadn’t been particularly worried while waiting for him to arrive, the abstract idea of him was completely different from the reality.

The last time she’d been in this position, events had unfolded fairly quickly. She had woken up in a motel room and had been informed almost immediately that they were going to finish a conversation. Now, she had no idea what to expect. And while Dr. Lecter had seemed somewhat pleased to see her, it began to occur to her that he might not be in the best of moods, given what had happened to Will.

That alone made this a marked difference from their last encounter, when he had been positively thrilled with circumstances in general.

While Clarice still ultimately felt that he wasn’t going to kill her, the longer she was left alone, the more uneasy she became.

When the knob of the bathroom door finally turned, Clarice was immediately at attention, hoping she didn’t look as startled as she felt.

Dr. Lecter took a step into the room before once again crouching in front of her. He regarded her with a look that was nearly expressionless.

“Will is resting comfortably,” Dr. Lecter said.

“That’s good,” Clarice commented, neutral.

She really looked at him for the first time, registering the differences the years had made. He was a bit leaner, perhaps, but was still in excellent physical shape, with the form of a man who had done strenuous activity all his life. There were a few more lines on his face, but not enough to truly age him. The largest difference was his hair, which was nearly half silver.

His eyes were exactly the same. Whether they were flat and closed off, or glittering with genuine amusement, they were always so, so black.

“Your presence is something of an inconvenience, Clarice,” he said. “Will needs to recuperate. Ideally, my preference would be to simply find a room somewhere nearby, to anonymously remain in one place as long as was needed. But that will hardly be possible with you ready to put the FBI on our trail.”

Clarice swallowed. “I imagine you’re rarely troubled by inconveniences for long.”

Dr. Lecter’s lips quirked at her indirect yet blunt assessment of the situation. “I have another scenario in mind. If necessary, I could leave with Will now, though I would prefer not to. But even convalescing overnight would be beneficial for him. Then we could depart the area more easily.”

Clarice wasn’t entirely sure what he was getting at. “And how do I figure into this scenario, Dr. Lecter?” It was entirely clear how she figured into a scenario where Dr. Lecter and Will stayed in the area for any amount of time.

“We will remain here and take our leave of you tomorrow. Will may rest to prepare for traveling, and you and I may have another conversation.” A pleased look settled over his face. “A compromise that suits all our purposes.”

If her purposes were ‘living,’ then yes, that suited her purposes.

“And when you do take your leave?” she asked, arching a brow. “Won’t I be just as inconvenient then?”

He looked amused. “I’m sure something can be arranged to give Will and I the necessary time to depart.”

That meant he was probably going to drug her again. By the time she was able to alert the authorities, Dr. Lecter and Will would be long gone.

But given the situation she was in and who she was dealing with, any scenario that didn’t end with her getting her neck snapped would be considered a positive outcome by most.

It took Clarice another beat to fully process the fact that if Dr. Lecter wasn’t killing her and he wasn’t leaving until tomorrow, then she wasn’t leaving until tomorrow, either. She was stuck here. She was effectively his prisoner.

Clarice had known when she’d handcuffed herself that she was giving up control, but the actuality of it still hit her in an unpleasant way.

She bit back a sigh. “Then I suppose, Dr. Lecter, I’m at your disposal.”

A smirk appeared on his face. “You are indeed.” He moved his hand, and she saw the keys to the handcuffs between his fingers. “But for now, a slight change of scenery.”

Clarice managed not to flinch when he touched her wrist, his movements precise and mechanical as he unlocked the cuffs. When he was done, he stood and stepped back. Clarice got to her feet, trying not to visibly shake out the soreness from sitting so long.

She resisted the urge to ask where she was going, as she knew it couldn’t be far. Instead, she asked, “May I use the restroom?”

“Certainly,” he said with a nod.

Dr. Lecter moved out of the room in one fluid motion, closing the door behind him.

Clarice took a moment to gather herself.

But she actually did need to use the restroom, and she wasn’t sure when she would have the opportunity to do so again. After she was done, her eyes lingered on the toilet tank as she flushed, thinking again that there might be something inside that could help her pick the handcuffs the next time she was restrained.

Clarice shook her head, moving to the sink to wash her hands. Now wasn’t the time, for several reasons. The dynamic had shifted, and getting out of the cuffs themselves would only get her so far.

She dried her wet hands as well as she could on her jeans, as she certainly wasn’t going to use the sole grimy towel hanging over the shower door. When she opened the bathroom door, Dr. Lecter was standing there as expected. He gestured for her to precede him into the back room.

The room contained an old metal-frame bed, which itself contained Will.

“Please, sit,” Dr. Lecter said.

Not particularly seeing another option, Clarice sat.

Dr. Lecter fastened one cuff to the frame of the bed and the other to her wrist.

“I have some things to attend to,” he said, moving back to the doorframe. “After which we may have our conversation.”

Clarice looked at the sleeping Will before glancing back at Dr. Lecter, her brow furrowing. “You’re leaving me alone with him?”

Dr. Lecter tilted his head slightly. “Would you rather be alone with me?” he asked, his expression perfectly placid.

There was no right answer to that question. ‘No’ was certainly not the right answer, and ‘yes’ would be a lie.

“I’m surprised, that’s all,” she said. She was law enforcement, and Will was who she was trying to catch.

Dr. Lecter smiled at her evasion of the verbal trap he had set. Then he simply said, “You are too moral a person, Clarice, to harm an injured man simply to get at me.”

With that, he stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

Clarice exhaled, long and slow. The words were true enough. She couldn’t kill anyone in cold blood, and she couldn’t torture anyone. What was she going to do—threaten to hurt Will unless Dr. Lecter let her go? Actually hurting him would be sealing her own fate.

Her eyes flitted to Will. He wasn’t in the middle of the bed, but wasn’t quite on one side of it, either. Will was tucked halfway beneath the quilt, and he was wearing a clean white undershirt. Clarice could see bandages beneath it, the extra layer of white a small contrast to his skin, even through the shirt’s material. But white was all she saw; he hadn’t bled through any of the visible bandages. His face was bruised, with a black eye and one side of his jaw swollen, and there were several fine cuts that had been sealed with medical glue.

But he was clean, with most of the blood sponged off his skin except what lingered around his hairline. He was also utterly still. If it weren’t for the slow rise and fall of his chest, he was so quiet she wouldn’t have even known he was breathing. Clarice suspected Will was resting comfortably because Will wasn’t entirely conscious. Then again, if she were in the shape Will was, she wouldn’t want to be entirely conscious, either.

Clarice stood, mainly for something to do, and took in her new surroundings. The room was tiny, probably eight by eight feet. The bed took up the majority of it; on the side of the room opposite the door and furthest from her was a small dresser. The room didn’t even have a lamp; instead, there was a single low wattage bulb in a bare ceiling fixture. There was no window. Undoubtedly the bedroom had been built without a window to conserve heat in the dead of winter. It wasn’t up to today’s fire codes, but more relevant to her situation was the fact that there was only one exit.

The bed she was cuffed to was old and heavy, with a metal frame of thick bars. It looked similar to something that might have been seen in a hospital almost a century ago. She wasn’t getting free from it any more than she had been from the sink.

Clarice sighed and moved to sit down again. She propped a pillow up against the uncomfortable headboard, and then sat on the bed, leaning against the pillow and stretching her feet out in front of her. Her left wrist was cuffed, and she was on the left side of the bed, so she was able to rest fairly comfortably.

She briefly wondered why Dr. Lecter had moved her at all, why he hadn’t simply left her in the bathroom. After considering it, she concluded that it wasn’t out of any consideration for her, but for his own practicalities. He would eventually want to use the restroom himself, or would want to take Will to it, and he would consider it vulgar to have her tied up there.

There weren’t any sounds from beyond the closed door to suggest what Dr. Lecter might be doing, though Clarice suspected all the same. He was a cannibal and there was a dead body—it wasn’t hard to put together the pieces.

Clarice closed her eyes for a long moment. When she opened them, she stared blankly at the wooden wall ahead of her, taking stock of her situation.

Even if she managed to get free of the handcuffs, circumstances had changed drastically from when Will had restrained her.

Dr. Lecter was now between her and the only exit, and unlike Will, he wasn’t impaired in any way. Clarice knew she couldn’t win against him in any sort of physical confrontation. She took a fair amount of pride in her physical skills, but she also knew her own limitations. Even if she could make it past him to the front door, she would still be on foot, without shoes, and she didn’t have much doubt that he was faster than she was.

While Clarice willingly risked her life every day in the line of duty, escaping and alerting law enforcement was no longer realistic. She could struggle against being captive all she wanted, and it likely wouldn’t do anything to further her getting away. If nothing she did here would lead to Dr. Lecter’s arrest, a different question presented itself: was being difficult on principle worth getting on the bad side of a psychopath?

Clarice had strong ideals, but ultimately, she felt the answer was ‘no.’

Dr. Lecter liked her in some capacity and currently didn’t see a reason to hurt her. She would be a fool to be disagreeable enough to give him one. There was no point in performing small acts of rebellion or in being verbally resentful.

The best course of action was to do as she had been doing. If a chance of legitimate escape arose, she would of course take it. Otherwise, she would play his game.

She had played it before. And while she hadn’t won, she certainly hadn’t lost.