Requested by @thestrawberrylesbian on Tumblr

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Poughkeepsie, New York.

Clarice Starling stepped out of her rental car, the autumn air crisp with the scent of damp leaves and something more intangible —unease. The town of Poughkeepsie looked ordinary, its streets lined with aging brick buildings and small businesses, but the darkness lurking beneath its surface had drawn her here. The FBI had been chasing Edward Carver for years, the so-called Poughkeepsie Killer, whose tapes had revealed horrors beyond comprehension. Now, with a fresh lead and the case gaining traction, they had called her in to assist.

The local FBI office buzzed with a mix of frustration and exhaustion. Agents had been combing through mountains of evidence —deciphering the cryptic clues in Carver’s tapes, tracking his movements, and trying to get ahead of a ghost who had eluded capture for too long. Clarice had dealt with serial killers before, but Carver’s particular brand of cruelty —his meticulous documentation, his psychological torment of both victims and investigators— made him a different kind of monster.

It wasn’t long before she was introduced to Lisa Schway. Younger, sharp-eyed, and with an air of quiet intensity, Lisa carried herself with the weight of someone deeply invested in the case. She wasn’t just another agent; she had a personal stake, a history with the kind of horrors Carver inflicted. Clarice recognized the look —determined, but also haunted.

"Agent Starling," Lisa greeted her, her voice steady but guarded. "You think you can help us catch him?"

Clarice met her gaze.* "—I think if we don’t, he’s going to keep making us watch."