| “The Hannibal Variations” Alternate Film Ending The characters aren’t mine, neither is some of the dialogue, if it were mine, this is what would have happened. She came into the kitchen, carrying the candlestick at her side. She had expected his reaction, to a degree, given his behaviour throughout the evening, she just hadn’t expected it to be so swift. Nor had she expected what she felt, yes, being slammed into the fridge hurt, but only because of her wound, and the morphine did help a bit. She hadn’t known she could feel such an absense of fear. Oh, there was another emotion, one she couldn’t place, but there was not fear. Not even when he slammed her into the fridge for the second time, pinning her to it with her hair clamped in the door, the handle broken off. He spoke to her then, she did know she liked his voice, never realising how much she’d missed it until she’d heard it again. “Tell me, Clarice,” * say my name again, * she thought, “would you ever say to me ‘Stop, if you love me, you’ll stop’?” “Never in a thousand years,” and she meant it too. She never wanted him to stop doing this, doing anything to her. This was the closest they’d ever been, the way he was leaning over her, not quite touching, though. She never wanted him to stop being part of her life, if this was sharing a love with Hannibal Lecter, she wanted it to go on forever. She’d admitted it then, hadn’t she? He loved her, and she loved him back, now she knew what she had to do. He was talking again. “Never in a thousand years?” and something she couldn’t identify, huh, hmm, or something similar. “That’s my girl.” She was his, they both knew it, or at least she hoped he did. From the way he’d responded she thought he might have misunderstood. Then he leaned forward, teeth bared, she knew he wouldn’t bite her, he would never hurt her. He pulled back a little, and when he leaned in this time he kissed her. She was too stunned by the emotions that suddenly ran through her body to even move, to even respond, for a few seconds and then she made a snap decision. Two things at once, then, she returned his kiss, her most urgent instinct there, and he turned his head to savour her more fully. At the same time she slid her hand down to where she had concealed her handcuffs, on her hip, clipped inside, under her dress. She could think of no other way to get what she wanted, now that she knew what she wanted. What had he said? “Would you stand inside my prison cell with me and hold my hand? We could have * fun *.” Well, with what she had in mind they could still have fun, and the prison cell would not be needed. With her plan set she quickly attached the cuffs, one on her wrist, one on his. “Now that’s really interesting, Clarice. I’m really pressed for time.” She took a deep breath and he continued, “Where’s the key?” She raised her eyes to meet his. “Take me with you,” she finally managed to whisper. “What?” and only he could make that word sound so long. ‘Take me with you. I want to get out, get anywhere, get far away from the FBI,” the rhythm of her words was his, from so long ago. “And I want to go with you.” He knew, he always could tell, that she wasn’t lying. For the moment he didn’t care what had done it, time enough for that later, but she wanted to come with him, the only problem was that they were handcuffed and she was attached to the fridge. Well, if she were coming with him, her appearance would have to change, might as well start with her hair. He reached behind him for the meat cleaver. “Slide down as far as you can,” he told her. She did. He read absolute trust in her eyes. He raised the meat cleaver high and brought it down hard, slicing cleaning through her hair. The ponytail holder she had been wearing fell off and her hair swung forward, brushing along her chin, short in the back. He had to smile, the impromptu haircut looked good on her. Quickly they slipped out of the house, before they went she added to his note, she didn’t care where they were going, so long as they went together. When the authorities arrived they found the house deserted, Krendler’s body cooling in the kitchen. Atop the fridge stood a tuft of hair, clamped in the door. Stuck to the fridge with a magnet was a note: Ta Ta H in Lecter’s handwriting. Below that was scribbled: And C. |