FIC: Contrapasso
Title: Contrapasso
Author: bugs
Rating: M
A/N: I swore to myself that I wasn't going to 'go there' with Hannibal Lecter and Clarice Starling, but it is bsg_aussiegirl's birthday and I know it's what she really, really wants... *putting on big girl panties* But remember, 'careful what you wish for'!
And with a few other projects on my plate, I'm afraid you're just getting a teaser! But I know where I'm going with this, I really do... *shifting eyes*
This story will be in the Ring of Fire universe for Silence of the Lambs/Hannibal but it's not necessary to read those stories.
~*~
The prisoner stood straight, chin level, eyes appearing to be focused on the steel door, but really inhabiting a place far from the cell, a place green and open, breathing in air filled with the sun's heat and the earth's depth. Anywhere but the eight foot square concrete box that she was in now.
The cell door's small slot window opened. The guard barked: "Starling, git to the back...Hands flat on the wall."
She complied but there was the familiar tension between them; the guard knew who was in charge here.
"You have a visitor, Starling."
She didn't reply. The door remained closed.
"It's a doctor. He's gonna talk to you."
She finally spoke. "I've got nothin' to say."
Another voice overtook the guard's, shutting him out. "Ms. Starling, I believe that you have important things to say. I'd be happy to hear you."
Her lip curled in a sneer; contempt was the first emotion that she showed. She turned away which earned another order from the guard. "Face the door!"
Slowly, she resumed the position. The two men spoke in hushed tones outside the door and finally the guard's voice rose: "I don't think it's a good idea--"
The smooth tone of the doctor overlapped the guard's, but not high enough for Clarice to hear. She eased a step closer to the door. Suddenly it swung open and she froze.
The man filled the entryway, solid as the impenetrable door. There was no escape.
She gave him a shy country girl smile. "How do you do?"
He tipped his head in greeting, but kept his gaze level with hers. "I am well. How are you?"
"Could be better, but can't complain," she said but took a step back so the distance between them remained the same as he entered the cell. It was not a retreat. It was a tactic.
He gave an appreciative smile. "I am Doctor Hannibal Lecter."
"Don't suppose you're here to check on that pain in my neck."
"I could if you wish."
Her eyes shifted toward the door. The viewing window was still open. "They don't let anyone touch me."
"I doubt you want anyone to touch you."
"Startin' already, are you?"
He clasped his hands at his waist. "Starting what?"
"Trying to figure me out. Analyze what made me what I am."
"What are you?"
"I'm one of the few female serial killers..." Her smile turned sly. "At least one of the few caught. Pro'ly plenty of women doin' it, just not found out."
"Interesting theory." He quirked an eyebrow. "How are women doing it?"
She lay her hands flat on the wall as the guard had instructed. "They poison. Pussy kills."
"Not like you. You gut men like sheep at slaughter. You give them a single shot to the base of the neck."
She didn't respond. He decided that she had beautiful eyes.
He was accustomed to interviewing violent women, the rare killers in that gender. Often, they tried seduction, even those who hated men--particularly those. Their disdain meant they saw men as weak, ruled by their dicks and easily manipulated. But he could see this unique woman was using another type of seduction on him.
He was a man of great control and yet in these first few minutes with Clarice Starling, he wanted to spirit her away, to make her his lifelong enigma.
Her gaze shifted fractionally toward the door. She could read his thoughts and for the first time since he entered the cell, he was afraid. Yes, let's kill the guard. Let's slip through the shadows of the prison corridors. Let's run and run and run. And Clarice Starling kills another man, slicing him from the base of his throat to his groin, exposing his heart on a wave of red. But at least he would be her last victim, of that he was sure.
He made one step, blocking the view through the cell door's window. She smiled again in approval.
His lips found the highest plane of her cheekbone. Her breathing quickened, a heated course on his cheek. He stilled, watching for any sign that she couldn't continue.
"H..." she mused, her mouth brushing the single letter along his chin.
"Yes, Clarice."
"Just makin' sure it's you." Her eyes were still the most beautiful he'd ever seen, even as they searched his, as though looking in a mirror for a familiar face.
He rolled back to his side of their newest bed, needing distance between their bodies if they were going to talk. "Who else would I be?"
"One of the other identities that you've been...You will be."
"I told you. No matter what the role, I never lose myself."
Her eyelids closed and the curtain dropped on the vividly dressed stage.
....To be continued...
Author: bugs
Rating: M
A/N: I swore to myself that I wasn't going to 'go there' with Hannibal Lecter and Clarice Starling, but it is bsg_aussiegirl's birthday and I know it's what she really, really wants... *putting on big girl panties* But remember, 'careful what you wish for'!
And with a few other projects on my plate, I'm afraid you're just getting a teaser! But I know where I'm going with this, I really do... *shifting eyes*
This story will be in the Ring of Fire universe for Silence of the Lambs/Hannibal but it's not necessary to read those stories.
~*~
The prisoner stood straight, chin level, eyes appearing to be focused on the steel door, but really inhabiting a place far from the cell, a place green and open, breathing in air filled with the sun's heat and the earth's depth. Anywhere but the eight foot square concrete box that she was in now.
The cell door's small slot window opened. The guard barked: "Starling, git to the back...Hands flat on the wall."
She complied but there was the familiar tension between them; the guard knew who was in charge here.
"You have a visitor, Starling."
She didn't reply. The door remained closed.
"It's a doctor. He's gonna talk to you."
She finally spoke. "I've got nothin' to say."
Another voice overtook the guard's, shutting him out. "Ms. Starling, I believe that you have important things to say. I'd be happy to hear you."
Her lip curled in a sneer; contempt was the first emotion that she showed. She turned away which earned another order from the guard. "Face the door!"
Slowly, she resumed the position. The two men spoke in hushed tones outside the door and finally the guard's voice rose: "I don't think it's a good idea--"
The smooth tone of the doctor overlapped the guard's, but not high enough for Clarice to hear. She eased a step closer to the door. Suddenly it swung open and she froze.
The man filled the entryway, solid as the impenetrable door. There was no escape.
She gave him a shy country girl smile. "How do you do?"
He tipped his head in greeting, but kept his gaze level with hers. "I am well. How are you?"
"Could be better, but can't complain," she said but took a step back so the distance between them remained the same as he entered the cell. It was not a retreat. It was a tactic.
He gave an appreciative smile. "I am Doctor Hannibal Lecter."
"Don't suppose you're here to check on that pain in my neck."
"I could if you wish."
Her eyes shifted toward the door. The viewing window was still open. "They don't let anyone touch me."
"I doubt you want anyone to touch you."
"Startin' already, are you?"
He clasped his hands at his waist. "Starting what?"
"Trying to figure me out. Analyze what made me what I am."
"What are you?"
"I'm one of the few female serial killers..." Her smile turned sly. "At least one of the few caught. Pro'ly plenty of women doin' it, just not found out."
"Interesting theory." He quirked an eyebrow. "How are women doing it?"
She lay her hands flat on the wall as the guard had instructed. "They poison. Pussy kills."
"Not like you. You gut men like sheep at slaughter. You give them a single shot to the base of the neck."
She didn't respond. He decided that she had beautiful eyes.
He was accustomed to interviewing violent women, the rare killers in that gender. Often, they tried seduction, even those who hated men--particularly those. Their disdain meant they saw men as weak, ruled by their dicks and easily manipulated. But he could see this unique woman was using another type of seduction on him.
He was a man of great control and yet in these first few minutes with Clarice Starling, he wanted to spirit her away, to make her his lifelong enigma.
Her gaze shifted fractionally toward the door. She could read his thoughts and for the first time since he entered the cell, he was afraid. Yes, let's kill the guard. Let's slip through the shadows of the prison corridors. Let's run and run and run. And Clarice Starling kills another man, slicing him from the base of his throat to his groin, exposing his heart on a wave of red. But at least he would be her last victim, of that he was sure.
He made one step, blocking the view through the cell door's window. She smiled again in approval.
His lips found the highest plane of her cheekbone. Her breathing quickened, a heated course on his cheek. He stilled, watching for any sign that she couldn't continue.
"H..." she mused, her mouth brushing the single letter along his chin.
"Yes, Clarice."
"Just makin' sure it's you." Her eyes were still the most beautiful he'd ever seen, even as they searched his, as though looking in a mirror for a familiar face.
He rolled back to his side of their newest bed, needing distance between their bodies if they were going to talk. "Who else would I be?"
"One of the other identities that you've been...You will be."
"I told you. No matter what the role, I never lose myself."
Her eyelids closed and the curtain dropped on the vividly dressed stage.
....To be continued...