The Last Temptation

The Last Temptation
Chapter 4: What Can I Say

Story By: The Adrians
Song By: Brandi Carlile

Started: August 12, 2006 (Really, November 26, 2006)
Finished: February, 18, 2007 5:11 pm PST

Authors’ Note:

So it looks like the Red Dragon section has been visited by a wave of unhappy readers lately. They totally destroyed the ratings on all but 3 fics in the section…and didn’t even leave a decent review. Hmmm…Either the authors across the way in the Hannibal section are getting nervous and have hired operatives, or people just don’t like our writing….We’re putting our money on the Hannibal authors.
And now to business. Thanks darkangel985 (again, again) for your review. I’ll have you know that dream week is not over yet!
This is the debut of our Clarice. She’s exciting and scary, no?
For everyone keeping track of the day, this fic starts at the end of day 12 and ends sometime in the evening of day 13. Are you excited yet?
(The above was the old Author’s note. It’s a little untimely seeing as ratings have gone up and all that lot. Right just now, we’re incredibly sick. We’re achey and tired. Theraflu is getting us through the next four hours so that we can update. We also regret to inform you that we lost our Timeline. -_-; We’ll have to make a new one before we can update again.)
(That’s another old note. We’re much better now and even though we haven’t found the timeline, we made a new one. It’s just this side of lovely. Thank you, Hannah. Reading your review kicked us out of the hiatus we were in. This chapter is for you.)

Love and Love,

T.A.

PS: PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING DECENTLY FLAVOURED, READ AND REVIEW...

____________________

Chapter 4: What Can I Say

Look to the clock on the wall
Hands hardly moving at all...

Clarice Starling stared blankly at the ceiling from where she lay in her bed. The flickering streetlight made the drywall patches dance before her eyes. She sighed. It was another of those nights. Clarice rolled onto her side to check the clock on her nightstand. 3:45 am. Another sigh. She’d been in bed for at least three hours. No sleep yet, not even the smallest hint of fatigue. Her body was tired, but her mind was awake, fueled by the flames of a thousand different thoughts. She idly considered knocking herself out to stop her brain, but her body didn’t want to put forth the effort.
Clarice rolled over again and faced the wall this time. The flicker of the streetlamp didn’t animate this wall so the weary agent stared into darkness. She felt a faint glimmer of deja’ vu, then shut her eyes tight. There was a reason she’d been facing the window. Just like there was a reason for her poor sleep as of the last twelve days. The two were connected very closely… Clarice shuddered, her thoughts now reeling in an unwelcome direction, flying past the stresses of the Bureau and slamming right back to where they always seemed go-

Hannibal Lecter.

Can't stand the state that I'm in
Sometimes it feels like the wall’s closing in...

In an instant she recalled him- his scent, the sound of his voice, the feel of his lips. Clarice was almost ashamed of how quickly it all came to her. It seemed like he was always lying just below the surface of her thoughts, always lurking and hiding in the shadows. But even there he was polite, well-dressed, and intelligent. He was still everything and everywhere for Clarice.
The special agent smiled a soft, tired smile, as her thoughts drifted back to his lips.
He'd kissed her. Bound and broken as she was, Hannibal had kissed her. She sighed. This was where the memories started going sour. He took up the knife and told her to close her eyes. She obeyed, but not before she saw the knife start to come down. And then she remembered Paul Krendler, the lobotomy, Mason Verger and the boars. She remembered Will Graham. Clarice wasn’t sure why the special investigator was a bad memory. He seemed decent enough. Maybe that was it. He was decent. His and Hannibal’s story wasn’t filled with the wickedness, the closeness or the heat and the secrecy hers had been. She liked that. It made her feel…special. Clarice snorted, shaking her head. A convicted serial killer made her feel special. She wondered when she’d gotten so desperate for approval. Somewhere inside she knew that that wasn’t all Hannibal was. He wasn’t just a list of crimes or a series of photographs. He was a person, a fascinating, wonderful person.
What she wouldn’t do to see him again…

Oh Lord, what can I say?
I’m so sad since you went away.
Time, time ticking on me
Alone is the last place I wanted to be...

Hannibal Lecter checked his post in the morning, as routine governed. A white envelope with no return address greeted him just as expected. This time he decided not to stop for coffee before reading the letter. Instead, he drove home and opened it in the comfort of his own sitting room.
The same white paper and smeared left-handed writing waited inside the envelope and Hannibal was pleased to note that his hunch about Will’s hand had been correct. The more he read, the more intriguing the letter got. He certainly hadn’t expected Will to be so blunt with Jack Crawford. Needless to say, he was proud of the man. Though Lecter wondered if Will had taken up drinking again.
The last few lines Hannibal had to read twice, less because of legibility than sheer surprise. There wasn’t much in life that could surprise Hannibal Lecter.
“I turned down the protective custody because I want to see this through myself. Like I said, I’m not afraid anymore. If there’s anything else, you’ll have to see me to find out. I’ll tell you about my dreams then.”
The doctor stared at the words for some time, simply taking in the gift Will had unknowingly bestowed upon him.
He left his chair in the sitting room, deciding he really would like his coffee before writing a reply.

Lord, what can I say?

The previous evening:

Dim lights and soft music. The sounds of pages turning and papers being shuffled. Clearing of throats, scratching of pencils- nothing out of the ordinary. Will finds himself in the doctor’s study, reading over a new case file. Hannibal is in the chair behind his desk, eyes flicking from photo to photo. They sit in silence for a long time, working in a way like they might on night in reality. Until Hannibal sets aside the photos and stands.
Will looks up at the doctor. “Should we call it an evening?”
Hannibal shakes his head. “Not yet. I was just thinking that I could use a drink. Would you like something, Will?”
Will sighs. “My wife doesn’t like me drinking…”
The doctor laughs. “Are you a mean drunk, Will?”
The investigator shakes his head. “No, nothing like that. I’m kind of depressing, actually.”
“She doesn’t let you drink because you’re depressing?” Hannibal sounds a little doubtful.
Will shrugs. “That’s the excuse she gives me. I think it’s because when I drink, I get…” The man blushes suddenly. “Um…”
“You get what, Will?” The doctor’s eyebrows arch in curiosity.
He looks down, unwilling to answer..
When he looks up, Hannibal is standing in front of him, almost close enough to touch, eyes shining with something Will has never seen before.
Will starts to say something, to apologize, but is stopped by Hannibal’s lips pressed tightly to his. After a few moments he wonders why he hasn’t bothered to stop the doctor. When he feels his own tongue slowly tracing Hannibal’s lips, he wonders why he hasn’t stopped himself.
Lecter helps Will from the chair, their lips still locked, and leads him to a flight of stairs. There he breaks the kiss and looks at the softly panting blond. Will nods and that’s all Hannibal needs. Soon the stairs are gone and the two are tangled again in what Will imagines is the doctor’s bedroom.
Hannibal’s hands slide carefully over Will’s abdomen, smoothly divesting him of his pants. Will’s fingers work at the buttons on Hannibal’s shirt. They’re undressing quickly. The feel isn’t love, it’s lust, and Will doesn’t seem to mind.
Soon they’re both undressed and moving against each other shamelessly. Hannibal flashes a cheeky smile as he bites Will’s neck a little too hard.
The blond feels the warm blossoming of a bruise on his neck and is driven to dig his fingernails deeply into the flesh of the doctor’s shoulders.
They’re both thrusting, against each other, into each other, through each other- caring little about anything but the friction slowly tearing them apart
There are no words. All of that seems so trivial. The heavy sounds of both men’s breath fills the room, along with the wet hiss of skin rubbing skin. It’s only a matter of time now.
Will comes first, screaming loud and long as his nails tear at skin. Hannibal is next, silent as his teeth push into the bruise at Will’s neck.
The air is thick with sweat, sex, and the faintest hint of blood as Will closes his eyes to sleep...

Tremble my troubles away,
Drown my sorrow them same way...

Will awoke in the morning, peaceful, without tears. He got out of bed and walked to the bathroom. There he stripped off his clothing, the wet boxers last and stepped into the shower. The water was ice cold and it woke Will up, then it started to warm, soothing him. He washed his hair, and his body thoroughly with tropical smelling shampoo and reached casually for the razor resting on the molding of the shower.
The blades hovered over his left wrist for only a moment before they made a deep incision up the skin of Will’s forearm. Blood sprang from the new wound and poured down his arm and onto the shower floor. He stared at the wound for a moment as if taking into memory the course of the blood as it streamed from him, then switched hands. He held out the right arm, the hand swollen and painful, and as the razor came down he heard a familiar voice ask him,
”What’s been done to you, Will?”
He blinked, looking at his right arm with dizzy vision. He’d stopped just before the blade hit the skin.
”I don’t know…” He answered apologetically.
“I thought you said you weren’t afraid…” The voice continued.
-”I thought so too…” Will choked, feeling the tears start to come.
”Are you going to do it, Will? Are you going to end it all?” The voice wasn’t coaxing him either way. It asked as if out of pure curiosity.
“I was…but now…” his chest heaved, “I don’t know…”
“Why don’t we have a chat before you make a decision?”
“But you aren’t real…” Will sobbed.
“Maybe some other time then.” And then the voice was gone.

Seems no matter how hard I try,
Feels like there’s something just missing inside...

Clarice woke the next morning to the sound of her phone ringing. She groped for it aimlessly, hoping through her sleep that moving her hand around the vicinity of the night stand would somehow lead the receiver to her hand. After a few rings and still no contact, the special agent finally lifted her head to seek out the location of the object. She didn’t have to look long, the cordless handset lay under one of her pillows. She answered the phone with a drowsy, “Starling here…”
Jack Crawford’s morning voice greeted her. “Clarice?”
Starling was almost instantly awake, sitting up straight in bed almost as if the man were in the room to see her. “Yes, sir. I’m here.”
-“Good. Listen, I’ve got an assignment for you. Don’t bother coming in for forms though. This assignment isn’t exactly formal.”
Clarice frowned a bit. Not exactly formal? “What is it, sir?”
-“I need you to fly down to Marathon, Florida to visit a Mr. William Graham.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Special Investigator Graham, sir? The Mr. Graham that was here about two weeks ago for a briefing on Lecter?”
-“Ex-Investigator, but yes, the very same. I need you to find him and well- check on him. Make sure he’s alright.”
”Do you think Lecter may have gotten to him?” She was asking more out of curiosity than concern.
-”I hope not. That’s why I’m sending you down. If Lecter’s gotten him, report to me immediately, if not, come back and give me a briefing on how he is.”
Clarice wondered about what it might be like to enter Will’s house and find his body on the ground, soaked in its own blood with a large hole in the chest cavity… then shook her head. What was she thinking? Graham wasn’t her enemy.
-“Clarice?”
-“Yes, sir.”
-“Be at the airport in three hours.”
-“Yes, sir. Goodbye.”
The special agent clicked off the handset and set it aside in a bit of daze. She would have to go to Marathon, Florida to informally check up on Will Graham. He must be rather special…
She packed her things quickly, not really putting much thought into it. A suit, her laptop, and some other odds and ends she might need to look presentable to the man who caught Hannibal Lecter.

Who nearly killed Hannibal Lecter.

Who testified against Hannibal Lecter.

Who condemned Hannibal Lecter.

Clarice bit her lip, shaking herself again from those thoughts. Will Graham was doing his duty. He was assigned to identify and bring in the Chesapeake Ripper and he did. He was a hero, not some…obstacle.
Obstacle? Why had she-?
Starling bit her lip and finished packing.
She could think about that on the way to Marathon.

Oh Lord, what can I say?
I’m so sad since you went away.
Time, time ticking on me
Alone is the last place I wanted to be...

Will watched the blood coagulate up the gash in his left arm. He nudged the tap to cold and let the water run over it. The razor lay innocently in the corner of the shower, clean and shiny as if it had never once been used for anything other than grooming stray hair.
His chest still heaved and his breath still hitched between sobs, but he was conscious and still alive. That must have counted for something…
Once satisfied that the bleeding had stopped, he stepped out of the shower and started to dry himself off. He was careful of both injured arms now, using his right hand to towel himself despite the pain in his knuckles. Will dressed carefully, pulling on the jeans with only one hand and fastening them with two swollen fingers. The shirt wasn’t any easier. He had to brush the left arm against fabric, risking a potentially dangerous bleed. He finished with a long tired sigh then walked downstairs to search out something to bandage his left arm with.
Nothing in the medicine cabinet. Only pills. Nothing in the pantry. Nothing in the garage. Will sighed again, this one more frustrated than tired.
He’d have to go out to get the bandages.
Carefully, Will pulled on his leather jacket. It was summer and hotter than hell, but he would have rather getting risked heat stroke than bear the stares of people as he walked down the street with an obviously self-inflicted wound.
He used his right hand to steer unless he had to shift gears as traffic slowed in town. It was a little complicated, but it kept his left arm relatively safe. Will rolled past the coffee shop with white frosted wings on the way to the drug store, hardly noticing the man sitting beside them. He liked to go there for coffee sometimes. The kid who worked the counter-Jeremy- was pretty good. He never burnt the milk.
Maybe he’d go after he fixed up his arm. He could certainly use a jolt of something.
Will nodded. That’s what he’d do.

Lord, what can I say?
Oh lord, what can I say?

Hannibal watched calmly from beneath Will’s wings as the real Will drove slowly past. He noticed almost instantly that the hand that should have been on the stick was instead on the wheel- steering. He’d squinted, looking for the left hand. It was cradled gently against Will’s chest. More wall punching? He finished his coffee and paid his bill before following the car casually down the street. Hannibal found it parked in the drug store parking lot a few blocks down. Yes, the hand was definitely injured. The doctor made his way calmly inside, knowing the other man wouldn’t notice him now if he hadn’t seen him sitting in plain sight when he drove by. From two isles over, Hannibal could just make the man out through the anti-theft mirrors. Just as he thought, Will was purchasing packages of ace bandages, rubbing alcohol and gauze.
His left hand was still cradled gently against his chest. The younger man realized that his right hand couldn’t possibly hold all of the things he needed, nor reach for that last box of gauze so reluctantly he reached out with his left to grab at it.
Through the mirror, Hannibal could see the freshly clotted blood that covered a long gash disappearing into the leather jacket sleeve.
So Will had tried to kill himself…
Hannibal swallowed a wave of anger, then left the drug store.
”He’s scared.” The doctor thought out loud.
-“But brave enough to continue living…”
He began walking back to his flat then. It was time to reply to that letter.

How many rules can I break?
How many lies can I make?

Clarice boarded flight 415 to Miami, Florida at 12:30 in the afternoon. She was due to arrive at about 5:30. From there it would only be another hour or two before the private plane would land her in Marathon Florida. Then it was a quick drive to the hotel she’d made reservations at. After a hopefully decent night’s rest, she would pay a visit to the ex-investigator. If she found his body, so be it. One obstacle out of the way. If not, well...she supposed she’d cross that bridge when she got to it.

____________________

“Hey there, Will!” Jeremy’s voice was tired but cheerful. “It’s been a long time.”
Will did his best to smile believably. “Yeah. How’s business been?”
The young man shrugged a little. “Tourist season. All the regulars aren’t around much, so it’s been a little lonely. How have you been?”
The blond man shrugged back, taking a seat below the big frosted wings. “I’ve had my ups and downs.” He looked absently at the wings above him. They were beautiful- the kind of wings he’d wished he had when he was kid. Big, feathery, and powerful. The kind that could ward off enemies, fly you at breakneck speed, but still be soft and warm enough to act as shelter from the rain. He sighed a little, not hearing Jeremy’s reply.
”You know, Will, you remind me of someone right now.”
Will blinked, broken from his thoughts of flight by the barista’s thoughtful tone.
”Oh yeah?” He turned towards the younger man.
-”Yeah. You remind me of a guy who’s been coming in here for the last two weeks or so. An older guy. A doctor, I think.”
Will’s eyes widened. He did his best to keep the mask in place. Try to look interested, but not too interested. Try to look casual. More than anything, try not to look scared.
“That’s interesting. Are you saying I look like an old doctor?” He smiled a little.
Jeremy flushed a little, shaking his head and laughing. “No, no. Just the way you look at those wings. You both look at them with the same kind of…” He paused for a moment. “thoughtfulness, I guess.”
Will nodded. “Who knows?”
The barista smiled. “Yeah. They say great minds think alike…Ah well, what’ll it be, Will?”
The ex-investigator had felt himself shiver a little at that. The last thing he needed to be reminded of was that his mind thought like the great mind of Hannibal Lecter- who had been having coffee here for the last two weeks.
”Surprise me…” he heard himself say flatly.
Jeremy chuckled a little, then went behind the counter to make something for Will. The drink the doctor always ordered, a cup of Indian dessert coffee with just a little cream and a cinnamon stick looked like it might just brighten Will’s day. He certainly wasn’t looking very well.
He put together the coffee and set it in front of the older man with a smile.
”Thanks…” Will said softly, before turning to look out the window.

____________________


Clarice exited the private aircraft and walked to the rental office at about 6:45. There was a nondescript black four-door sedan waiting for her in the lot. She signed the papers, took the keys, then made a b-line for the hotel. The island was really rather small and couldn’t possibly have many hotels on it. She decided to avoid asking for directions. There was no harm in winging it. Besides, a drive through town would be nice. If she really got herself lost, she could ask. But until then she’d roam around. It would be sort of like an adventure…
The drive into town was brochure worthy. The green palms, tropical flowers, and dipping sun looked like they came out of a travel magazine. She could see why this was Will’s escape. It was beautiful- like the vacations her father used to promise her when she was a little girl.
Town was beautiful too. Quaint and old-looking. There were a few modern buildings, but they seemed to hide from the taller, older ones. She smiled. If Hannibal were here he would certainly be in town, probably staying in one of the aging buildings.
Starling drove past a small coffee shop with frosted wings in the window. Beside them sat a blond man, nursing some hot drink and staring at the glass. She could see the scar on his left cheek even in waning light.
Will Graham was alive…

How many roads must I turn,
To find me a place where the bridge isn’t burned?

Back in Hannibal’s flat, the older man sat at his writing desk carefully penning out the next letter. He knew he’d have to be careful this time. He couldn’t risk writing the wrong thing. He also couldn’t risk Will knowing he’d pussy-footed around to spare him some mental turmoil. Both reactions could end with disaster.
He finished his letter, slid it into the envelope, addressed it, but didn’t bother with a stamp. This letter would be delivered personally.
The doctor left his flat and drove to Will’s house. Will hadn’t returned yet. He might have done some more shopping or he could be frequenting one of the bars in town. Hannibal was relieved either way. He didn’t want Will to see him just yet.
He left the letter in the mailbox and drove away.
It was starting to get dark. Will probably wouldn’t think to check his mail until the next day. He’d be expecting a letter then, anyway. Hannibal sighed. He could use another cup of coffee. As he drove past the coffee shop, the doctor noticed his ex-investigator sitting beside the wings. He held a vacant expression and seemed not to notice the black Bentley as it drove by. Coffee would have to wait.
In the bar of the hotel that housed his flat, Hannibal purchased a small bottle of brandy for cooking. He waited at the counter for the bartender to find the brand he’d requested, all the while watching a young woman with brown hair check in at the front desk. He knew from first glance that it was Clarice. It was the suit.
She never took his advise on the suits.
He watched Clarice take the key to her room from the manager at the front desk. The key had been hanging from the 5th row of hooks. 5th floor, then. Hannibal sighed. That was unfortunate. Floor 5 was the top floor of the rented rooms. Hannibal had to take the private elevator from that floor.
Brandy in hand, Hannibal headed to the elevator. He was determined to not allow Clarice to become a problem. Jack Crawford had probably sent her down on a mission to check up on Will. He may have wanted his young pet to keep an eye out for her recent abductor also. To this day, Clarice was still Jack Crawford’s little canary. What a shame…
He took the elevator up to the 4th floor, then used the stairs to get to the 5th. He waited patiently on the landing until he heard the elevator open and Clarice’s footfalls start down the hall. She was heading towards the higher numbered rooms that faced away from the private elevator. That was a stroke of luck he was grateful for. She stopped in front of the last room on the left side of the hall and unlocked the door. The special agent entered and locked the door behind her. Hannibal checked the room number before heading for the private elevator.
Room 510.

Oh Lord, what can I say?
I’m so sad since you went away.
Time, time ticking on me
Alone is the last place I wanted to be...

Will sighed a little as he looked at the table in front of him. Four empty cups lay on the surface, their cinnamon sticks sitting in a row on a napkin next to the cups. He looked up at Jeremy who was busy cleaning the espresso machine.
”Hey, Jeremy?”
The young man stuck his head out from around the large machine. “Yeah, Will?”
”What have I been drinking this evening?” Will smiled like a man who wasn’t sure if he were drunk or not.
Jeremy smiled. “Nothing too heavy,” He chuckled. “Indian dessert coffee with a little bit of heavy cream and a cinnamon stick.”
Will was appreciative of the humor. He felt bad for not being very personable over the last few hours. “Well that’s good. I’m sort of a caffeine light-weight.”
”Not to worry. It’s dessert coffee so it isn’t packed with caffeine like a breakfast coffee,” he said matter-of-factly. “It’s become a popular drink lately. I like to call it The Dr. Fell, after the man I was telling you about earlier. He’s the one who showed me how to make it.”
The blond tried not to choke on the ‘Dr. Fell’ he’d just sipped. He took a harsh breath after swallowing and blinked teary-eyed. He was in a café frequented by Hannibal, sitting in Hannibal’s spot, and drinking a cup of coffee named after the man. It didn’t get much more awkward that this. At Jeremy’s concerned look, Will just waved his hand. He was fine…really. He wiped his eyes a little then looked down at the coffee in his hand.
Jeremy smiled weakly. ”Sorry about that, Will. The good doctor isn’t usually violent…”
Will had to fight back sick laughter. He wanted to say something like ‘If only you knew…’ or ‘That’s what you think…’ , but figured there was no reason to make himself look crazier than he was. Instead he laughed.
-”In all seriousness, the real doctor is smart and a totally nice man. I think you’d like him a lot, Will. He can charm the pants off anyone. He comes by in the mornings. ”
The ex-investigator smiled and shook his head. That’s probably what he’d sounded like to Molly all those years ago when he told her about Hannibal after their first few meetings- He was innocently infatuated with someone he didn’t know. Will shrugged internally. Jeremy wasn’t in any sort of danger. Best not shatter his illusion. “I’ll have to come by some time to meet him…”
Jeremy smiled brightly. “Cool. You want one more for the road, Will?”
Will nodded. Why not?
“Sure.”
There was no escaping, so he might as well drink The Good Doctor down and enjoy him...

Oh Lord, what can I say?
I’m so sad since you went away.
Time, time ticking on me
Alone is the last place I wanted to be…

Lord, what can I say?
Oh lord, what can I say?