Chapter Text
This wasn't how I was supposed to spend my vacation.
Six months ago, I'd planned a trip for one of my precious weeks off work: me, a spa in Miami, and a pre-paid package of daily massages and facials. It was going to be perfect. I should be there, flirting with men and women in the bar at the hotel and enjoying life.
Then, two weeks ago, Jack Crawford and I received letters delivered on the same day in matching envelopes. They were invitations to spend a memorable week on a private island off Chesapeake Beach, sent by the Associate Attorney General, Paul Krendler. We were too curious not to accept, and my real vacation had been pushed back another two months.
Goddammit.
Now, instead of my sexiest one-piece, I was in my heaviest overcoat, batting snowflakes from my face while the ferryman took us five miles offshore.
Me: Don't all scary movies start like this?
Jack: *shakes head* Not the ones I've seen. Usually, it's a dark and stormy night.
Me: But what about that one movie with the –
Ferryman: *yells* Look there in the distance; you can see the shoreline!
Rocky cliffs surrounded the small island, and an old Victorian mansion loomed large on top of the bluff. The damn thing looked spooky, and I tightened my scarf around my neck, fighting off the chill that came from the center of my body.
Ferryman: You're the last ones to arrive. I've already brought the other guests in.
I caught Jack's eye. We hadn't known anyone else had been invited, and that was going to make our job all the more challenging. We had hoped to use this opportunity to speak to Paul privately about a very delicate matter that was about to change his plans of running for Senate.
Ferryman: Mr. Krendler hasn't had a party this big in a while. With him, that'll make an odd group. I brought eight people in, including you two.
Me: *sighs* Nine little assholes invited out to dine.
Jack: Clarice.
Me: Sorry, sir.
We pulled up next to the dock, and the ferryman helped us off the small vessel, passing us our suitcases. Jack tipped his hat to him, and I held out my hand. His was warm despite the frigid air, and hard callouses covered his fingers.
Me: Thank you for taking us out here, Mr…
Ferryman: Karon. Howard Karon.
Me: Thank you, Mr. Karon.
Ferryman: I check in every day to bring supplies since Mr. Krendler's boat is in the shop. If you need anything from the mainland, add it to his list.
Jack: We'll do that.
Mr. Karon nodded. The engine whined as he pulled away from the dock. Jack and I watched until the boat became a tiny blip in the sea.
Jack: Ready?
Me: As ready as I'll ever be.
Jack: Stay close to me, Clarice. Don't let him get you alone.
Me: *mutters* I learned my lesson last time.
Jack: *pats my shoulder* After we're done with him, no one will ever be forced into that position again.
There was a gator at the dock with keys in the ignition, and we used it to get to the house. By the time we pulled up the main path, the snow was falling so hard that I could barely see to steer, and it was a relief when I turned off the engine. We grabbed our suitcases and rushed up the steps to the front door. The doorbell vibrated low around us, and heat puffed out when the door opened. But it wasn't Paul who greeted us. The face was familiar yet not familiar, though once her hair caught the light, I knew who it was immediately.
Jack: Miss Lounds.
Freddie: That's Ms. Lounds, Deputy Director Crawford.
She opened the door wide, letting us in. Jack and I walked into a vast entryway. It should have been a bright, cheerful space, but the wood paneling made it as dark and bleak as an old cabin in the middle of the woods.
Jack: I wasn't aware that any reporters were invited to this party.
Freddie: And I wasn't aware the Feds would be here. I got an invitation promising me an exclusive interview with Paul Krendler.
Jack: *narrows eyes*
Freddie: But Krendler has yet to show his face. He's hiding upstairs.
Jack: Interesting.
Freddie: *nods in my direction* What's with the fresh meat?
Me: *frowns at her*
Jack: Ms. Lounds, you know Dr. Clarice M. Starling. She's taken my old position in the BAU. You've written about her a few times.
Freddie: I have, indeed. A little young for the job, isn't she?
I tensed. I'd heard it before, after all, and even read about it on Tattle Crime not three days ago.
Jack: She's the most qualified agent we've ever had in the BAU.
Freddie: *under her breath* That's not saying much.
Me: *holds out hand* Ms. Lounds.
Freddie: *shakes my hand and nods with approval* Firm handshake. I like that in a woman.
Me: *gaydar pings*
Another guest came into the entryway, the clunk of her cane announcing her arrival. This one I knew, too, though we'd never met. Dr. Alana Bloom wasn't teaching at the Academy anymore, nor was she the administrator of the BSHCI. The good doctor had semi-retired, having settled into the quiet life of academic writing. I had a few of her books, though the face on the dustcover was one she'd had before her fall in Baltimore.
Alana: Jack. I didn't know you would be here.
Jack: I can say the same thing about you, Alana. I wasn't aware you were in Mr. Krendler's acquaintance.
Alana: I'm not. The Vergers and the Krendlers go way back. He invited us to look through some family albums and talk about the old days. *laughs* Imagine our surprise to find a full house.
Jack: Margot is here?
Alana: She's upstairs, resting. She got a little seasick on the way in. Bedelia is checking on her.
Me: Bedelia Du Maurier?
Alana: Mmm-hmm. She rode in with us. *looks me over* I don't think we've officially met. Alana Bloom.
Me: Clarice Starling.
Jack: Who are the other two guests? Mr. Karon said there were eight of us.
Alana: *sighs and closes her eyes*
Freddie: Mr. Krendler either has a sense of humor or enjoys the company of ex-cons.
Me: What do you mean?
Voice above us: It means Freddie is as much of an asshole as she's ever been.
I couldn't see the face of the man speaking, but I knew his voice. The lights above us were too bright, but when he walked further down the steps, his wavy, greying hair came into focus around his stern face. The light wasn't kind to his scars – the pale lines shone brightly, cutting across his face.
I hadn't seen Will Graham in five years, not since the night we said goodbye in Memphis. Life had become a blur after my confrontation with The Buffalo Babe: the interviews, being the new face of the Bureau, then finally being forced into another role I didn't quite fit into. From what I'd read, it hadn't been easier for Will. After I'd been escorted from the courthouse, Dr. Lecter's attorneys had rushed in with good news: a series of search warrants hadn't been properly executed, and his convictions had been thrown out, and without that evidence, the government had been unable to press new charges, making Hannibal Lecter a free man. Will's indefinite hold for insanity was lifted in the process, and he immediately went into hiding. Only Jack knew his location, and Jack had never told me.
The moment Will's eyes settled on me, it felt like the world shifted. His gaze held me whole, swallowing me up until we were the only two people in the room.
Will: Special Agent Starling.
Me: Patient B1327-1.
Goddammit, Clarice.
He didn't seem to mind my cheek. His lips pulled back into a grin, showing off an even row of teeth that were too white against his bronzed skin. Wherever he had been, there was a beach, and I hoped he'd found the peace he so desperately needed.
Will: I didn't know you'd be here.
Me: What story did Krendler sell you?
Will: *shrugs* Help with a private matter.
Freddie: *holds up a tape recorder* And what kind of help would that be, Will Graham?
Will: Drop it, Freddie.
Freddie: Make me.
Will: *flips her the bird*
Jack: Alright, you two, knock it off. Considering the FBI's presence in an official capacity, what's spoken by anyone in this house should be regarded as off the record unless explicitly indicated otherwise. *turns to me* Does that sound about right, Agent Starling?
Me: *considers it and nods* Want me to call Ardelia and check?
Jack: *grins slyly*
Alana: I hate to tell you this, Agent Starling, but none of us have cell phone service.
Me: I have a satellite phone. *whips it out* It gets a signal no matter…
But there were no bars at the top of the screen, and I was completely disconnected from any data source.
Me: Motherfucker.
Alana: I wasn't lying.
Freddie: He must be a paranoid son of a bitch to have our signals jammed.
Jack: Which I'm sure has nothing to do with your presence here.
Freddie: I was invited.
Voice down the hall: As was I.
Will took a deep breath and immediately looked at his feet, his nostrils flaring. Indeed, everyone present took on the air that something foul had entered the room when Dr. Lecter appeared.
He was just as smug a bastard as he had been on Plum Island, maybe even more so. He resembled the old pictures I'd seen of him from the time before his bloody kitchen nightmare. Dr. Lecter's suit was comically loud to the point of being obnoxious, teal and grey check with an orange tie that should have clashed. With his hair slicked back, he looked exactly like the man whose papers I'd once read in school.
But that man held a secret. He knew the woman who I dreamt of at night and had called her by name.
Elisabeta.
When Dr. Lecter looked at me, I felt the same electricity that had drawn me to him in Memphis.
Dr. Lecter: Special Agent Starling. Jack.
Jack: *snarls* What are you doing here?
Dr. Lecter: *shrugs* I was asked to cook for a large party and given carte blanche over the menu. Any luxury I desired. I trust no one has allergies.
Alana: I'm allergic to humans, Hannibal.
Dr. Lecter: *leans towards her* Best not to confess that to Margot, unless you're ready to admit that you don't care to eat –
Jack: *clears throat*
Me: I think I'll take my things upstairs.
Alana: The guest rooms have placards with our names on them. You're in the suite between ours and the master.
I shook my head. There was no way in hell I would be sleeping that close to Paul Krendler.
Jack: Swap with me?
Me: Yep.
Will: Then yours, or… Jack's… *pulls collar*… I'll show you the bedroom.
Dr. Lecter: Do you require any assistance, dear Will?
Will: *refuses to look at him* No.
Dr. Lecter: Are you sure? I'd like to show her the bedroom, too. Mine, preferably.
Me: Dr. Lecter?
Dr. Lecter: Yes, my dear?
Me: *picks up my bags* Do us all a favor and shut the fuck up.
Dr. Lecter's lips twitched, and there was a titter of laughter from Alana and Freddie's directions, not that I gave a damn. I was already halfway up the steps, watching the muscles in Will's ass work.
Was it me, or were his pants cut just a hair too tight?
You need to get laid, Clarice.
As though he heard me, Will turned his head, nervously glancing at me over his shoulder. I followed him when he turned right at the landing, following him down the corridor. Tidy placards were by each door with our names written in a meticulous, scrawling hand. We passed the ones labeled Bedelia Du Maurier and Will Graham. Jack's room, now my room, was at the end, with Hannibal Lecter's across from it. The window at the end of the hall had a view of the cliff. The snow had let up enough that I could see the snowy shoreline.
It reminded me of something from long ago, like a memory I could almost touch but was too far away to reach. I frowned, looking outside, almost seeing three shapes on the surf. If I thought about it hard enough, I could almost –
Will: Clarice?
I jumped, placing my hand on my chest. Will put his hand on my shoulder to steady me, and it nearly took my breath away.
All that time, and we'd only touched the once-through those bars in Memphis. And now his warm hand was on my shoulder, the other on the doorknob.
Will: I got here with the first group and had a look around. All the rooms are nice – like the best hotel you've ever been to.
Me: Show me.
He opened the door. The bedroom was cozy; there was no way around it. An antique spindle bed was in the corner, covered with an old-fashioned quilt and soft-looking pillows. Bookshelves lined one wall, and Tiffany lamps glinted on the tables. I couldn't believe Paul had anything to do with this room. It felt too much like someone who gave a damn about their guest's happiness wanted it to feel like home.
Will: We'll have to share a bathroom unless you want me to swap rooms with Freddie or Bedelia.
Me: There's no need for that, as long as you remember to lift and lower the lid.
Will: I've been house-trained. *grins* I can do that.
I put my suitcase on the bed and sat next to it, looking up at one of the two men who had filled my thoughts since our first meeting in the basement of the Plum Island Asylum.
Me: It's been a long time, Will.
Will: Five years.
Me: You didn't think to look me up or… something? After you got out.
Will: I thought about it.
Me: And?
Will: *shakes head* I didn't want to fuck up your life with my bullshit.
Me: It was already pretty fucked up.
Will: Clarice –
Me: And I wouldn't have minded having another friend. Especially after…
My hand went to my stomach like it always did when I thought about the day I almost died. The only people who knew the truth about what happened were Jack, Margot, and me. No one knew about Meagan's list. I'd done what I could with the names, even phoning in a few anonymous tips, not that anything was ever done about them.
Will: I'm sorry, Clarice.
He sounded like he meant it. It was enough to make me pull the suitcase off the bed and pat the spot next to me. Gingerly, he sat, and on impulse, I rested my head on his shoulder. It felt right, natural, like my head was made to sit right there. And when he put an arm around my waist, it was a perfect fit.
Me: We're touching.
Will: I know.
Me: It's not weird.
Will: Nope. Did you think it would be weird?
Me: *grins* I don't know. Maybe? It's not like I haven't…. *blushes*
Will: Haven't what? Thought about touching me?
Me: *nods*
Will: I thought about it, too.
Me: You did?
Will: Uh-huh. Five years of thinking.
Me: It's a long time to think about touching someone.
Will: I got some occasional relief. *stammers* I mean… what I meant to say is –
Me: Will?
Will: Yeah?
Me: Did you touch yourself while you thought about touching me?
Will: *nods*
Me: *clears throat* I thought about it, too.
Will: Really?
Me: Girls think about sex too, you know.
Will: I know that. I just didn't think that you would think about me that way. Not after –
Me: Will?
Will: What?
Me: Why don't you and I stop thinking?
He was wearing his glasses. They were crooked, and I took them off his face. That was better. I could see the intense blue of his eyes, and the moment his pupils dilated, I kissed his lips.
Will: *whispers* We're kissing.
Me: I know.
Will: *kisses me gently* I think I like kissing you.
Me: *kisses him back* I like it, too.
Will: Yeah?
Me: *kisses him again* I think so.
Will: I thought we weren't supposed to be thinking. *kisses me harder*
Me: I think... *kisses him and slips my tongue in his mouth*
Will: *moans* Do you think you want to do anything else?
There was a loud knock on the door, and I almost groaned.
Me: Hold that thought.
I reluctantly left Will's arms and glanced in the mirror, making sure he hadn't mussed up my hair. When I answered the door, Dr. Lecter was on the other side with a long dress bag in hand.
Me: *frowns* Can I help you?
Dr. Lecter: Dinner tonight is formal.
Me: So said the invitation.
Dr. Lecter: I'd put this in the other room for you.
Me: *takes the bag* Did you know I was invited?
Dr. Lecter: *nods* My invitation mentioned it.
Me: And you didn't trust me to dress myself?
Dr. Lecter: Take the courtesy, Clarice. I meant nothing of it other than wanting to see you wear something nearly as beautiful as you are.
Me: *swallows* Oh.
Dr. Lecter: There are shoes in the side pockets, as well as a box of jewels. They should bring out the highlights in your eyes and hair.
Me: Why did you –
Dr. Lecter: I'll see you at dinner. Eight sharp.
He nodded in Will's direction and closed the door behind him. I didn't even open the bag. Instead, I took it to the closet, frowning when I saw the framed poem nailed to the door.
Me: Will, have you seen this?
Will: The poem?
Me: Yes.
Will: There's one in every room.
Me: Oh god, that's creepy.
Will: I thought so too.
Nine little idiots sat up very late,
One choked up on the scandal, and then there were eight.
Eight little idiots dreaming about heaven,
One overslept themself, and then there were seven.
Seven little idiots stacking up the bricks,
One boxed themself inside, and then there were six.
Six little idiots playing with a knife,
One sliced themself in half, and then there were five.
Five little idiots going on a tour,
One said they'd stay there, and then there were four.
Four little idiots going out to sea,
A red herring swallowed one, and then there were three.
Three little idiots walking in the zoo,
A honey bear hugged one, and then there were two.
Two little idiots sitting in the sun,
One got burned alive, and then there was one.
One little idiot left all alone,
They went out and hanged themself, and then there were none.
Me: What do you think it means?
Will: Hell if I know. I thought we were trying not to think for a while.
I hung the bag in the closet, trying to ignore the poem. But now that I knew it was there, I couldn't take my eyes off it. Finally, I decided to remove it from the door, tucking the frame into the top drawer of the nearby dresser.
Me: Out of sight, out of mind.
Will: I had to do the same thing.
Me: *giggles and turns* We aren't so different, you and I.
Will: Pretty similar.
Me: If you squint, you can't tell us apart.
Will: I call bullshit on that.
Me: *giggles louder*
Will: Got any candy?
Me: There's a handful of Jolly Ranchers in my purse.
Will: Share?
I took one for both of us, giving Will the cherry since it was his favorite.
How do I know that?
Will: *pops it into his mouth* Thanks, Clarice.
Me: Anytime.
Will: It's three o'clock. That's a lot of time to kill before dinner.
Me: Don't say kill.
Will: Noted. *grins* What do you want to do?
Me: I was going to try to work, but that requires the internet. I guess I'll have to grab one of those books and figure out how to entertain myself.
Will: Could I suggest something else? Maybe... I don't know... something that requires two people?
Me: Sure.
He pulled me down onto the bed and kissed me again, his mouth tasting like sweet candy. And I decided there was no better way to spend a cold October afternoon than in Will Graham's arms, making out like a couple of teenagers on a hot Friday night.