Letter from Lecter to Graham, in the days between Clarice
Starling's first visit, and Lecter's escape
by elfin
My Dearest Will,
I have been considering that night, you know the one
I mean, and I felt compelled to write.
That night, I experienced such a myriad of feelings
for you, that it has taken me this long to sort through them all.
The trust you placed in me as we worked together, the
open honesty, with which you talked and shared yourself, astounded me.
I wanted to keep you, but I knew, deep down, that sooner or later I'd have
to give you up.
I had no intention of killing you, even of hurting you.
I was going to lead you to another with the profile we had been writing.
But you were too clever. And you worked it out. You knew, even
before that night, did you not?
Sometimes, to be alone with you was frightening.
I could almost see myself in your eyes, and the deeper we went, the more
vivid it became until gazing at you was like looking in a mirror.
I did not want to kill you, but I had to. Even
now, even like this, I cannot tell you what you were starting to mean to me,
the emotions you had started to evoke.
To tell you that sliding that stiletto into you was
as satisfying as I imagined making love to you would be, I'd be insulting
your intelligence. But holding you against me as I sliced through
your flesh, feeling you warm in my arms, that was so intimate, Will.
I think of it often.
Lowering you to the floor, feeling your fingers in my
shoulder, was so close to my fantasies that for a moment I saw myself leaning
over you, touching my lips to yours and having you respond willingly.
But your death would also have to be the death of all
those wistful thoughts of mine, and your blood was starting to feel sticky
on my hand.
Necrophilia isn't my thing, Will. I would have
given you your dignity as I cut out your heart. I had an expensive bottle
of Pinot Noir, unusually chilled, and a nice recipe in mind even as I watched
the colour drain from you and the shock start to have its effect.
And then you did what I would not have believed possible.
Where did you find the strength to stab me so deep with
those arrows? The damage I had done to you, the wound I had inflicted,
was already killing you and yet you had the presence of mind not only to
fight back but to think about how and when to do it.
I was so surprised. Very little has the ability
to surprise me, and I was inappropriately delighted to find you could.
We have shared something, you and I, something that
so very few ever share. I've held many in death, felt their blood
on my hands and soaking my shirt as they died in my arms. None, my
beautiful Will, ever felt as good as you.
Do you wish you'd died that night?
I do not. This interval of captivity has been
fascinating. But I am bored, Will. Soon, I'll fly. When
that happens, please do not lose sleep waiting for me to finish what I started.
This world is so often a dark place. You give it just a little more
light. I will not be the one to snub that out.
Goodbye, and take care, my rare one.
Hannibal
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