| Bound- Written by Hannah Prologue It was insanity. Less than an hour ago, she was relatively relaxed - actually enjoying her vacation. Unbelievably, she now found herself standing here in a narrow alleyway, behind one of the lesser churches of Florence, contemplating an act that anyone else would dismiss as suicide. �There�s no time to analyze this, Starling,� She told herself. �If you�re going to do this, just do it � it�s now or never.� With no further thought, she darted forward, and with one quick motion, closed the handcuff around Hannibal Lecter�s wrist. She registered the metallic snap of it locking into place just as she closed its mate around her own. Section 1 �Would you care to explain this, Agent Starling?� She glanced down at the rag that her section chief had just tossed onto his desk in front of her. It was a copy of the Tattler with a photo of her on its front page. She didn�t even bother to read the headline. The picture was enough. She and two other agents were trying to get a handcuffed prisoner into the back of a van. The photographer had been lucky. He had managed to snap the picture just as the butt of her rifle made contact with the back of the prisoner�s head. The angle of the photo obscured the fact that his teeth were viciously clamped down on one of the other officer�s forearms. She raised her eyes to meet those glaring at her from across the desk. �You�ve read my report, Sir. I�m not sure what else you want me to say.� �Do you enjoy the attentions of the press, Agent Starling?� �No, Sir, I don�t... but I seem doomed to suffer them anyway.� �Starling, what in God�s name possessed you to assault a handcuffed prisoner?� �Handcuffs or no, a fellow officer was under attack, Sir. The prisoner had drawn blood and was unwilling to release Agent Johnson�s arm. I saw no other immediate options available.� She saw his jaw clench and registered the storm clouds gathering in his eyes. She was too calm for his taste, she knew. He read it as a sign of disrespect. Before she could make a decision about whether or not to attempt contrition, he spoke. �It seems you have a knack for drawing the biters, Starling.� Obviously, Crawford wasn�t the only one who saw her as tainted. Anger flashed in her eyes, but she held her tongue for several moments until she could trust herself to speak. When she did, the strain of control was evident in her voice. �Was that necessary... Sir?� He disregarded the question. �Agent Starling, are you determined to be an embarrassment to the FBI?� �No, Sir.� The quiet rage in her voice was barely controlled at this point. There had never been any love lost here, but it was fast becoming a struggle for mere civility. �You�re a loose cannon, Starling. I�d like nothing more than to bring you up on charges for this little stunt... but given the statements of your fellow officers, it would be a waste of my time.� The disappointment in his tone was surprisingly sincere. She made no attempt at reply, merely sat stoically, waiting for the next blow. She understood that he found her composure in the face of his displeasure unsettling, and she had to work to keep the smirk from crossing her lips. �Jesus, Starling! Did you have to use the butt of your fucking rifle?� Turn page to next part of story.... |