PLEASE READ
GUIDELINES
BEFORE INTERATCION.


SELECTIVE.
LOW ACTIVITY.
OPEN TO MULTIPLE VERSES, SHIPS,
AND CROSSOVERS.

#FORJUSTTICE

INDEPENDENT CLARICE STARLING
OF THOMAS HARRIS'
THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS AND HANNIBAL.

[ @grahamcrackin

That name leaves Starling’s mouth, and suddenly all of Will’s thought processes grind to a screeching halt. He’d gone back to pretending to look over the file, but now he’s looking at her again, all of his stranger-danger anxiety replaced with his attention well and truly caught.

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“Um. What?” Excuse him, but what the fuck! Jack didn’t so much as hint at consulting Lecter, because of course he didn’t. So much as suggesting as such would have spooked Will off the case for good, and for good reason

He feels like he’s going to be sick, stomach roiling as every mixed emotion and buried after-image hits him all at once in no particular order. 

A needle in his arm as he seizes out in Lecter’s office. 
The pair of them laughing together.
One hand clutched against his abdomen in an attempt to keep his insides inside as the other fails to stop the blood spurting from Abigail Hobbs’ slashed throat, dying on Lecter’s kitchen floor.
His face pressed into Lecter’s chest as he drifts to sleep curled against him in his bed.
The sound of electric buzzing and bone splintering as a saw rips through his forehead.

Will manages to claw his way out of the hellscape of a montage, forcing himself to breathe through it. Ironically using the very same techniques Hannibal taught him to bring himself down from panic attacks. 

“Why?” His hand clutches the edge of the desk so hard his knuckles turn white. What the hell is Jack up to? Lecter bested Crawford, himself, and everyone else at the FBI without so much as a second thought, how’s a fresh-faced newbie meant to stand a chance, even with the disgusting asshole locked away. 

“Every other word’s complete bullshit,” that came out a little more venomous than he meant it to, but he continues. “Not only is it a waste of time, but I promise you don’t want Hannibal Lecter in your head.”

       Will’s visceral reaction causes Starling to sharpen her gaze, out of both curiosity and suspicion. Curiosity about why in the world Will seems so surprised that Lecter is associated with the case; ensuing suspicion towards her superior, Crawford. ( This is becoming a trend. )

       As a result, she momentarily struggles to acquire the right words with which to respond, unsure how she managed to upset her new partner within five minutes of meeting him. Her first response is to set down her stack of papers as if an excuse to move a few inches away from him, idly re-stacking them. ( Will’s whitened knuckles call her attention. )

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        “ I—- these are my orders, sir.”

       The body of knowledge surrounding Dr. Lecter is not unfamiliar to Clarice, but she’s not afraid of much ( yet ), and she’s not about to let this new man, who somehow thinks he can impose his past onto her, change protocol—- or stifle her progress.

       Not gonna happen, buddy.

       This train of thought causes a hardness to keep Starling’s features in place despite the fact that a tinge of sympathy courses through her ribcage. ( This, of course, does not show. She assumes that pity is the last thing Will would want.

       “ With all due respect, I appreciate your sentiment, but Dr. Lecter is our only hope to catch this killer. His wealth of knowledge of these—-” Fuckers, sonsabitches, motherfuckers, deplorable fuckwits… “-—perverse people, is the first place we need to draw from.” A brief pause ensues. “I thought I’d let you know before I begin the visits.” 

HW