Disclaimer: I do not pretend to own the characters of Hannibal and
Clarice, they belong solely to Mr T Harris, I'm just borrowing them for a
wee while. Please don't sue!
A/n: I know I have other fic's unfinished at the time of posting this but I promise to make a start on finishing them ASAP. Thanks go to Saavik: aas, you're a star, and Janie: Thanks for your encouragement. Ok, on with the story…
One of the few things Clarice found relaxing was the rigour of her morning workout. It came with a sense of achievement and release, both feelings, which didn't happen in any other aspect of her life. When they had first moved into this new home, he had been wiling and almost adamant in installing a new gym area for her, but it was something she neither wanted nor needed. All she needed was an old punch bag, some tape, and a dusty quiet room. And so it was done within the first week of their move and she put it to good use every morning and sometimes late at night.
Delivering a brutal backhand, she smiled at the sound of the chains rattling on top of the dented punch bag. Short jabs and lethal right hands where what she was concentrating on now, delivered with accuracy and precision that only came with practise. Sweat beaded around her face and some of her hair had come loose from the high ponytail, it lay clinging and damp to her cheeks.
She couldn't believe it was his 24-year anniversary today. It seemed like just yesterday. Skipping around the bag she tried to occupy her mind with other thoughts, she had to keep her self together this year, she couldn't sit in a corner and cry for her daddy this time, things had changed and she would have to stay strong. Forcing herself to thing of something else, the picture of Quantico almost immediately appeared in her minds eye. Delivering another deadly backhand she stopped again as she thought about her former workplace. A thousand faces flashed in her mind, broken pieces of conversation that still managed to raise the hairs on her arms. Launching into her workout she decided she didn't want to think anymore, she didn't want to feel the pain of her former life anymore, she didn't want to feel anything. If only it was as simple as that. Delivering punches that seemed to blur, she could feel herself grunt with each blow, her face contorted in anger as images from her life thus far flashed incessantly. Her father, laying in a white hospital bed crying, the screaming, her first day in Quantico, Hannibal lecter, jame gumb, home, colt .45, corruption, her daddy's hat being washed. The images were coming faster and more detailed, her punches where becoming harder and more reckless. She didn't notice the tape slipping from her knuckles, didn't notice the blood that soon appeared as her skin was dragged across the thick material of the bag. Drawing her hand back to deliver a final blow, she threw her weight behind it and aimed it dead centre. It never reached the bag. Clarice felt the iron hold clamp her wrist before it hit the bag and growled in annoyance. Not looking to see what was on the end of the arm, she immediately dropped low, swinging her leg around in a wide arc, feeling her foot come in contact and swipe away the leg. Hearing the low grunt as the intruder crashed to the floor she dived on him, bringing her elbow down towards his throat.
What happened next was a blur. Blinking her eyes open the only thing she could see was the grey gravel on the floor, some of which had made it's way into her mouth and felt gritty to her tongue. Controlling her breathing and trying not to panic where her priorities at the moment. The arm that was twisted behind her back was beginning to ache and the knee she could feel digging into the low of her back was pressing her ribs into the concrete. There were several minutes of silence before a voice she knew like her own suddenly sounded close to her ear.
" If I had known how easily you can be restrained Clarice, I would have attempted a lot sooner…." He whispered
Feeling the anger surge through her system once more, she made a valiant attempt to break free, stopping with a whimper when he put a tiny fraction more pressure on her taunt arm.
" Doctor let me go" she seethed through gritted teeth, having already tired of this little charade.
" Isn't it funny Clarice." he started, an amused air to his words.
" What." she whispered harshly, her ribs beginning to ache.
" That whenever your angry, upset or scared you refer to me by my title. Any ideas why? Make an effort to answer now…"
" Hannibal your hurting my arm, let me go, I've had enough," she said in the most controlled voice possible.
She felt the pressure ease a fraction but not altogether and growled in annoyance.
" Not until you answer my question Clarice." he scolded
Clarice had to work extremely hard not to use all the swear words she had learnt over the years, and even harder not to wriggle.
" Maybe because when you do things like this you remind me how much you used to piss me off." She barked at him.
She felt rather than heard the chuckle that came from him. Just as she was about to scream at him she felt the pressure leave her back and arm, and almost immediately she rolled to her feet, her eyes looking and finding his own. There was a moment of quiet contemplation before either spoke.
" What the hell are you playing at? You could have broken my arm!" she shouted, her hand massaging her shoulder. Taking a few steps towards her he stopped when she shot him a glare.
" Now now Clarice don't exaggerate, it was you who attacked me if you cast your mind back, I was merely defending myself." He smiled, obviously enjoying it.
She angrily found herself smiling, and quickly replaced it with her trademark angry scowl.
" Well if you hadn't snuck up on me, you wouldn't have been attacked."
" Quite true Clarice." He admitted, signalling an end to the subject.
There was another quiet moment before he spoke again.
" You still owe me an answer Clarice.."
Rolling her eyes, she walked towards the door and opened it, making her way towards the kitchen. She could hear him following behind her.
" Because I suddenly remembered it was appropriate for my age and station," she retorted sarcastically, opening the large refrigerator and taking out a chilled bottle of water, quickly wiping it across her forehead.
" Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit Clarice and quite distasteful. Try again."
Shaking her head she unscrewed the cap from the bottle and began to drink the contents, her eyes closing as the water cooled her off in more ways than one. Finishing with a happy sigh, she stood for a moment before turning to fully face him, her body leaning against the marble worktop at her back.
" I don't know." She answered, her voice somewhat calmer but still carrying a stressful edge.
" I guess I never noticed it before…" she said, her brow furrowing as she realised it was true.
Nodding his head in agreement, he slowly walked towards her; his arms behind his back and face kind.
" It has been seven months since we left America together Clarice. We have been together for eight. We have known each other for more than a decade."
It wasn't a question, and she didn't make any attempt to comment, simply nodded her head slightly in agreement, a puzzled look on her face.
" Do you think the reason you address me as Doctor, is because you need me in that respect at that moment in time? Or is it simply an old habit you're finding hard to break?"
She frowned at his words and dropped her eyes to the floor at his feet, her mind asking herself the same questions.
" What where you thinking about when you where punching that bag Clarice?" he asked, watching her body language as she turned away from him and walked stiffly to the large sink.
" Nothing important." She said, her voice sounding a little harder than it had been only moments before.
He watched as she began to wash the grit and dried blood from her hands, her knuckles beginning to bleed again slightly from the abrasion.
" That was a lie and I'll ask you not to do it again. What where you thinking about?"
His voice didn't sound angry but it very rarely did.
"Mmm, lets see. I was thinking about the shopping list, then I was thinking about what was on TV tonight, and I think there may have been a passing thought to you, but don't hold me to that, I cant be one hundred percent sure. Sorry."
She walked passed him and into the large living room, picking up the remote control on the way. When she felt him follow her she turned around swiftly and regarded him with a cold stare.
" I don't need your help Doctor, there is nothing wrong with me, I was thinking of nothing that concern's you and I would appreciate you leaving me alone so I can watch the news." Her voice was steady and clear.
She watched as he tilted his head and smiled a smile that would have sent others screaming.
" Clarice your charms are dying a slow death. Since you haven't been honest with me thus far perhaps you should try being honest with yourself. Your avation is both tiring and rude. Now you know how I feel about the rude Clarice.."
Throwing the control onto the cushions she turned to fully face him, her hands on her hips and an expression of surprise mixed with anger on her face.
" Are you threatening me?" she asked, her voice trembling with barely kept rage
" You have a sharp mind when you decide to use it Clarice, what do you think?" he teased, watching her take a threatening step forward.
" You smug, arrogant bastard. You just don't know when to shut-up do you? And threatening me?" she scoffed " Do you think you frighten me Dr Lecter? It's a sad day in a retired psychiatrist's life when he has to resort to death threats to get answers don't you think?"
He watched the fire dance in her eyes as she spoke, the way her face contorted in anger with each word and the aggressive body language that followed. The room fell silent once more as they regarded each other. While it was true they had had their slight disagreements in the short time they had been together, as was to be expected from two people who had lived alone for many years, this was new territory for him.
He watched as her eyes finally left his and she quickly spun about and left the room via the door on the far side that lead to the bedrooms and study. He waited a few moments before following.
Clarice couldn't believe that this was happening. Why the hell couldn't he just back off? This was the second time in as many months he had done this. She didn't want to talk about it, especially with him. All he had ever done over the years was ridicule and torment her about her father. She didn't want or need that just now. Not today anyway. Entering the master bedroom that they shared, Clarice walked over to the large closet and swung the door opened, her eyes quickly scanning the contents. Pulling out an old sweater and jeans she quickly began to divest herself of her work-out clothes, throwing them to the floor, and quickly putting the only clothes she had left from America on. Pulling out her denim jacket as an afterthought she closed the door and walked to the bed, her head quickly snapping around to silently stare at the man standing casually in the doorway.
" Going somewhere Clarice?" he asked, his voice showing no emotion.
Swinging her jacket on she searched the pockets for a set of car keys.
" I'm going out for a while," she answered, her voice still showing her anger.
Finding no keys, she walked to the dresser and started to look, her eyes scanning and finding none.
" Looking for these?"
Turning her head sharply she could see two sets of keys in his outstretched hand. Sighing she turned fully to face him.
" Give me the keys Hannibal." She asked, her own hand held out.
She watched as he closed his fist around the keys and slipped them into his trouser pocket.
" Probably not a good idea for you to be driving at the moment Clarice, why don't we sit down to a little supper and…"
" Fine. I'll be home later." She muttered, picking up her small bag and taking a few steps towards the doorway he was blocking.
" Please get out of my way," she asked in a surprisingly polite tone.
He watched the play of restrained emotions flash across her eyes. The forced courtesy and politeness covering something much deeper, something she was struggling to keep under wraps by the look of it. He could almost taste the hidden pain that radiated from her. Curiosity, worry and his natural instincts where a powerful force when combined, and he knew he wouldn't rest until he had drawn the answers from her.
" May I ask where you are going?" he asked quietly, and she could hear the worry behind his voice.
She scowled at him for a split second, and then softened. It wasn't really he she was angry with, she thought to herself, although he was a pain in the ass sometimes. She almost snickered at that but quickly pulled herself back together, gazing at him with less anger in her eyes, more love.
" I just want to go for a walk. Clear my head. I wont be long, we can have supper when I return."
Explaining her whereabouts to him was routine now, not because he was a controlling man, it was simple common sense now that they where both fugitives.
" Perhaps you would like some company?" he smiled.
"I'm a big girl Hannibal, I can go for a walk myself. I know what your doing and I appreciate it, but…just not now ok?"
With that said she quickly walked passed him and into the hall, pausing only to pick up an umbrella from the stand before she closed the main door with a small click.
Clarice could feel the impending storm in the air. Through the dimming light of early evening she could make out the slow moving thunderclouds above her. Walking at a leisurely pace she made her way to the wooded park that was nearest their home. It was a place she had spent a lot of time in since their move here. In the daylight it was filled with laughing children, young lovers and elderly couples, all enjoying the warm sunshine that filtered down through the high trees that lined the long walkways. At night it was a place of tranquillity, where the high moon was the only light to guide her way, and the trees danced a slow waltz that seemed to calm her spirit. Absently kicking a few acorns from the path she finally let herself relax into the thoughts that had been skirting in the forefront of her mind all day. The first thing she saw was her fathers open casket. The image sent a bolt of sharp pain through her, immediately causing a loud sob to escape her throat. Holding a hand to her mouth she squeezed her eyes closed and continued walking, the image quickly fading to the dark part of her mind it had came from. Feeling her knees tremble she quickly made her way to the nearest bench and sat with a quiet thud, her hands drawing her long hair from her face. Looking out to the open field in front of her she had a flash of her father peeling oranges in their old kitchen, and this time she couldn't stop the tears that silently tracked down her face, glinting white in the moonlight. Bringing her legs up she wrapped her arms around them and buried her face in the warmth; small sobs of grief for the daddy that didn't see her grow up. It seemed that the flood gates had been opened and couldn't be closed again, the tears that left watery tracks on her pale face where nothing if not common by now. The first flash of lightening went un-noticed by Clarice, but the heavy rumble of thunder that followed brought her wet face from its hiding place to look at the sky. She nearly jumped clear off the bench when saw from the corner of her eye a dark figure sitting at the other end.
Standing at the far end she tilted her head to study the outline of the stranger that had managed to sneak up on her un-noticed. She knew that silhouette.
" The grief of the quiet past, is inadequate to the stormy present"
His voice washed over her in a quiet rumble that seemed more powerful than the thunder that rolled overhead. Relief, longing, grief and anger flooded her mind and she quickly sat on the opposite side of the bench, looking to the swaying trees for some sense of stability for her emotions. There were minutes of quiet refection and silent contemplation before he spoke once more.
" What date is it today Clarice?" came his smooth voice from the almost complete darkness.
There. The small hitch in her breathing was heard and he had almost all the answers he needed. She didn't answer his question, but he could feel the tiny tremble carry through the aged wood as she tried to hold back her emotions.
" You feel that you can't come to me, can't share this because of comments I have made in the past. In our past. You feel that I would ridicule and mock, torment and belittle the memory of your beloved father, or the place you keep for him, and him alone in your heart."
He could hear the tiny sobs that left her, could see the almost involuntary shivers that ran through her petite frame.
" This happens every year doesn't it Clarice. You become that scared little girl who lost everything. Your mind gives you no rest for twenty four hours, spinning a constant slide show of events, of images and daddy's voice."
"No.." the broken word was whispered into the night, and he watched as she quickly stood and began walking further down the tree-lined walkway.
The heavens decided it would share the mood and began crying it's own tears, heavy cold droplets of rain that left nothing untouched, including Hannibal and Clarice.
Clarice became aware of his presence following behind her from the tiny splashes his feet made on the now wet tarmac. Stopping, she heard him do the same, with her back to him she began to speak.
" They never caught the men who killed him. There was something of a manhunt when it first happened, locals and police alike cried outrage when they found his body. It only lasted a few days…then nothing. I was sent away….and that was it. There was nothing else. No more outcry, no more searching, no more justice." Her broken voice hissed the last word as though it burned her tongue.
Turning around she was met with his serious face, water running freely past his temples, his black overcoat shining in the little light cast by the partially obscured moon.
" You haven't moved on Clarice. When you think of your daddy, every day, you see him in a tragic light; you've trapped him in your mind, in a place where there is only pain and regret. When you recollect the only pictures or memories that come crashing to your minds eye are those of his last months, of his suffering and eventual death. You didn't have a chance to grieve your father's loss, the loss of your childhood, the loss of your innocence. You were forced into a place where grief and tears where only for the weak. You had to stay strong in the orphanage or you would have been seen as someone who wasn't able to cut it. And you were strong weren't you Clarice? You didn't cry anywhere outside of your bed at night. Then you left, and what did you take with you into the world Clarice? The fear of showing your emotions, the sense that justice hadn't been served, and a constant anger to everyone and everything that made you what you are. And what are you Clarice? In this moment in time you are a scared ten year old girl who has lost everything that was ever important to you."
His voice didn't raise or drop a decimal during his speech, his eyes never left her's.
" No-one else can help you, but you. You can let him go Clarice and no one will hurt or torment you. No one will condemn or sentence you. Not me, not the world, and not your father. You have to say goodbye to your father Clarice, you have to move on with your life. It's what he would have wanted."
Clarice stood immobile, her lip and legs trembling in time, her face wet and flushed from both her tears and the rain, and her hands now gripping his arms to ground her, to stop the world from spinning away from her. His words cut her deep and hit hidden truths as they always did. She could feel the ball of emotion lodged in her chest and struggled to keep it at bay as she always had. His words where calling for a release, she was scared to let it out for fear of never being able to stop.
" Let it go Clarice." He whispered in her ear, feeling the tremble as she worked against his words.
Clarice shivered, whether it was the cold from the rain or because she held her body so tense was debatable. Letting her head fall to his chest, under his chin, she looked to their feet, the swell of something hidden deep inside making her gasp and squeeze her eyes shut. She could feel it rushing to the surface and let out a loud whimper, feeling two strong hands pull her shoulders up and felt the warmth as she was suddenly in his arms.
Images that she had replayed a thousand times flashed once more, making her twitch as they didn't seem to be going away. Shaking her head as though to clear them she felt the hold around her tighten, only now realising she was whimpering and shuddering.
"Let it go.." she distantly heard as 24 years of grief spilled forth with a long scream. Falling to her knees she tried to bat away the warmth, the heat and comfort. It wasn't going away. Clarice felt as though her heart was breaking, felt as though she couldn't get a breath. Her entire mind was consumed with pain, everything around her slipped away until there was only her and her grief. No longer struggling against her anchor, she instead snuggled deeper into the warmth and security it provided, her screaming stopping, replaced with a simple sobbing that lasted for over an hour.
When all he could hear was a slight hiccup or shaky breath, he began to shift, bringing his arms under her legs and arms and gently lifting her from the wet tarmac they had been sitting on for over an hour. Walking the short distance back to the house, he helped her find her feet, opening the door with one hand he rested one on the small of her back as she entered, feeling the heat rush out to greet them. Following her into the bedroom he silently watched as she began to peel the wet clothes from her shivering body, absently wiping a stray tear in the process. She didn't meet his eyes once. Stepping away from the doorframe he walked over to the bed and lifted the thick velvet throw that lay folded at the bottom and gently draped it over her shoulders, and guided her silently to the bed.
The rain fell heavy against the thick glass window, a gentle, constant thrum that filled the room. Clarice couldn't remember a time when she had felt so tired, so worn. The bed seemed to swallow her up as she lay upon it, the crisp white pillow felt heavenly against her cheek, and the thick warm duvet cocooned her in warmth and comfort. The dark silhouette that sat at the edge of the bed was becoming blurred as she fought the pull of sleep, the blissful sense of relief one had when eventually closing your eyes. A warm hand touched her forehead and slowly glided down, closing her eyelids and warming her exposed cheek. As she began to drift on the plane between sleep and conciseness, a soft raspy voice filled her head, her mind wrapping around the words and taking them with her to her dreams.
"Look into the mirror Clarice, and behind the courage lays your father. He will always be with you. There is no greater sorrow than to recall, in misery, a time when we were happy Clarice. You have left your misery where it belongs, in the past. Look now to the future….and be truly happy."
Leaning over he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, before a flash of lightening caused his attention to turn to the wide window. The storm was shifting, breaking, moving away. The air was clearing; the rain-washing away the evidence that it had ever existed. 'Yes' he thought. 'Tomorrow will be a good day'.
Comments good or bad are appreciated….
A/n: I know I have other fic's unfinished at the time of posting this but I promise to make a start on finishing them ASAP. Thanks go to Saavik: aas, you're a star, and Janie: Thanks for your encouragement. Ok, on with the story…
One of the few things Clarice found relaxing was the rigour of her morning workout. It came with a sense of achievement and release, both feelings, which didn't happen in any other aspect of her life. When they had first moved into this new home, he had been wiling and almost adamant in installing a new gym area for her, but it was something she neither wanted nor needed. All she needed was an old punch bag, some tape, and a dusty quiet room. And so it was done within the first week of their move and she put it to good use every morning and sometimes late at night.
Delivering a brutal backhand, she smiled at the sound of the chains rattling on top of the dented punch bag. Short jabs and lethal right hands where what she was concentrating on now, delivered with accuracy and precision that only came with practise. Sweat beaded around her face and some of her hair had come loose from the high ponytail, it lay clinging and damp to her cheeks.
She couldn't believe it was his 24-year anniversary today. It seemed like just yesterday. Skipping around the bag she tried to occupy her mind with other thoughts, she had to keep her self together this year, she couldn't sit in a corner and cry for her daddy this time, things had changed and she would have to stay strong. Forcing herself to thing of something else, the picture of Quantico almost immediately appeared in her minds eye. Delivering another deadly backhand she stopped again as she thought about her former workplace. A thousand faces flashed in her mind, broken pieces of conversation that still managed to raise the hairs on her arms. Launching into her workout she decided she didn't want to think anymore, she didn't want to feel the pain of her former life anymore, she didn't want to feel anything. If only it was as simple as that. Delivering punches that seemed to blur, she could feel herself grunt with each blow, her face contorted in anger as images from her life thus far flashed incessantly. Her father, laying in a white hospital bed crying, the screaming, her first day in Quantico, Hannibal lecter, jame gumb, home, colt .45, corruption, her daddy's hat being washed. The images were coming faster and more detailed, her punches where becoming harder and more reckless. She didn't notice the tape slipping from her knuckles, didn't notice the blood that soon appeared as her skin was dragged across the thick material of the bag. Drawing her hand back to deliver a final blow, she threw her weight behind it and aimed it dead centre. It never reached the bag. Clarice felt the iron hold clamp her wrist before it hit the bag and growled in annoyance. Not looking to see what was on the end of the arm, she immediately dropped low, swinging her leg around in a wide arc, feeling her foot come in contact and swipe away the leg. Hearing the low grunt as the intruder crashed to the floor she dived on him, bringing her elbow down towards his throat.
What happened next was a blur. Blinking her eyes open the only thing she could see was the grey gravel on the floor, some of which had made it's way into her mouth and felt gritty to her tongue. Controlling her breathing and trying not to panic where her priorities at the moment. The arm that was twisted behind her back was beginning to ache and the knee she could feel digging into the low of her back was pressing her ribs into the concrete. There were several minutes of silence before a voice she knew like her own suddenly sounded close to her ear.
" If I had known how easily you can be restrained Clarice, I would have attempted a lot sooner…." He whispered
Feeling the anger surge through her system once more, she made a valiant attempt to break free, stopping with a whimper when he put a tiny fraction more pressure on her taunt arm.
" Doctor let me go" she seethed through gritted teeth, having already tired of this little charade.
" Isn't it funny Clarice." he started, an amused air to his words.
" What." she whispered harshly, her ribs beginning to ache.
" That whenever your angry, upset or scared you refer to me by my title. Any ideas why? Make an effort to answer now…"
" Hannibal your hurting my arm, let me go, I've had enough," she said in the most controlled voice possible.
She felt the pressure ease a fraction but not altogether and growled in annoyance.
" Not until you answer my question Clarice." he scolded
Clarice had to work extremely hard not to use all the swear words she had learnt over the years, and even harder not to wriggle.
" Maybe because when you do things like this you remind me how much you used to piss me off." She barked at him.
She felt rather than heard the chuckle that came from him. Just as she was about to scream at him she felt the pressure leave her back and arm, and almost immediately she rolled to her feet, her eyes looking and finding his own. There was a moment of quiet contemplation before either spoke.
" What the hell are you playing at? You could have broken my arm!" she shouted, her hand massaging her shoulder. Taking a few steps towards her he stopped when she shot him a glare.
" Now now Clarice don't exaggerate, it was you who attacked me if you cast your mind back, I was merely defending myself." He smiled, obviously enjoying it.
She angrily found herself smiling, and quickly replaced it with her trademark angry scowl.
" Well if you hadn't snuck up on me, you wouldn't have been attacked."
" Quite true Clarice." He admitted, signalling an end to the subject.
There was another quiet moment before he spoke again.
" You still owe me an answer Clarice.."
Rolling her eyes, she walked towards the door and opened it, making her way towards the kitchen. She could hear him following behind her.
" Because I suddenly remembered it was appropriate for my age and station," she retorted sarcastically, opening the large refrigerator and taking out a chilled bottle of water, quickly wiping it across her forehead.
" Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit Clarice and quite distasteful. Try again."
Shaking her head she unscrewed the cap from the bottle and began to drink the contents, her eyes closing as the water cooled her off in more ways than one. Finishing with a happy sigh, she stood for a moment before turning to fully face him, her body leaning against the marble worktop at her back.
" I don't know." She answered, her voice somewhat calmer but still carrying a stressful edge.
" I guess I never noticed it before…" she said, her brow furrowing as she realised it was true.
Nodding his head in agreement, he slowly walked towards her; his arms behind his back and face kind.
" It has been seven months since we left America together Clarice. We have been together for eight. We have known each other for more than a decade."
It wasn't a question, and she didn't make any attempt to comment, simply nodded her head slightly in agreement, a puzzled look on her face.
" Do you think the reason you address me as Doctor, is because you need me in that respect at that moment in time? Or is it simply an old habit you're finding hard to break?"
She frowned at his words and dropped her eyes to the floor at his feet, her mind asking herself the same questions.
" What where you thinking about when you where punching that bag Clarice?" he asked, watching her body language as she turned away from him and walked stiffly to the large sink.
" Nothing important." She said, her voice sounding a little harder than it had been only moments before.
He watched as she began to wash the grit and dried blood from her hands, her knuckles beginning to bleed again slightly from the abrasion.
" That was a lie and I'll ask you not to do it again. What where you thinking about?"
His voice didn't sound angry but it very rarely did.
"Mmm, lets see. I was thinking about the shopping list, then I was thinking about what was on TV tonight, and I think there may have been a passing thought to you, but don't hold me to that, I cant be one hundred percent sure. Sorry."
She walked passed him and into the large living room, picking up the remote control on the way. When she felt him follow her she turned around swiftly and regarded him with a cold stare.
" I don't need your help Doctor, there is nothing wrong with me, I was thinking of nothing that concern's you and I would appreciate you leaving me alone so I can watch the news." Her voice was steady and clear.
She watched as he tilted his head and smiled a smile that would have sent others screaming.
" Clarice your charms are dying a slow death. Since you haven't been honest with me thus far perhaps you should try being honest with yourself. Your avation is both tiring and rude. Now you know how I feel about the rude Clarice.."
Throwing the control onto the cushions she turned to fully face him, her hands on her hips and an expression of surprise mixed with anger on her face.
" Are you threatening me?" she asked, her voice trembling with barely kept rage
" You have a sharp mind when you decide to use it Clarice, what do you think?" he teased, watching her take a threatening step forward.
" You smug, arrogant bastard. You just don't know when to shut-up do you? And threatening me?" she scoffed " Do you think you frighten me Dr Lecter? It's a sad day in a retired psychiatrist's life when he has to resort to death threats to get answers don't you think?"
He watched the fire dance in her eyes as she spoke, the way her face contorted in anger with each word and the aggressive body language that followed. The room fell silent once more as they regarded each other. While it was true they had had their slight disagreements in the short time they had been together, as was to be expected from two people who had lived alone for many years, this was new territory for him.
He watched as her eyes finally left his and she quickly spun about and left the room via the door on the far side that lead to the bedrooms and study. He waited a few moments before following.
Clarice couldn't believe that this was happening. Why the hell couldn't he just back off? This was the second time in as many months he had done this. She didn't want to talk about it, especially with him. All he had ever done over the years was ridicule and torment her about her father. She didn't want or need that just now. Not today anyway. Entering the master bedroom that they shared, Clarice walked over to the large closet and swung the door opened, her eyes quickly scanning the contents. Pulling out an old sweater and jeans she quickly began to divest herself of her work-out clothes, throwing them to the floor, and quickly putting the only clothes she had left from America on. Pulling out her denim jacket as an afterthought she closed the door and walked to the bed, her head quickly snapping around to silently stare at the man standing casually in the doorway.
" Going somewhere Clarice?" he asked, his voice showing no emotion.
Swinging her jacket on she searched the pockets for a set of car keys.
" I'm going out for a while," she answered, her voice still showing her anger.
Finding no keys, she walked to the dresser and started to look, her eyes scanning and finding none.
" Looking for these?"
Turning her head sharply she could see two sets of keys in his outstretched hand. Sighing she turned fully to face him.
" Give me the keys Hannibal." She asked, her own hand held out.
She watched as he closed his fist around the keys and slipped them into his trouser pocket.
" Probably not a good idea for you to be driving at the moment Clarice, why don't we sit down to a little supper and…"
" Fine. I'll be home later." She muttered, picking up her small bag and taking a few steps towards the doorway he was blocking.
" Please get out of my way," she asked in a surprisingly polite tone.
He watched the play of restrained emotions flash across her eyes. The forced courtesy and politeness covering something much deeper, something she was struggling to keep under wraps by the look of it. He could almost taste the hidden pain that radiated from her. Curiosity, worry and his natural instincts where a powerful force when combined, and he knew he wouldn't rest until he had drawn the answers from her.
" May I ask where you are going?" he asked quietly, and she could hear the worry behind his voice.
She scowled at him for a split second, and then softened. It wasn't really he she was angry with, she thought to herself, although he was a pain in the ass sometimes. She almost snickered at that but quickly pulled herself back together, gazing at him with less anger in her eyes, more love.
" I just want to go for a walk. Clear my head. I wont be long, we can have supper when I return."
Explaining her whereabouts to him was routine now, not because he was a controlling man, it was simple common sense now that they where both fugitives.
" Perhaps you would like some company?" he smiled.
"I'm a big girl Hannibal, I can go for a walk myself. I know what your doing and I appreciate it, but…just not now ok?"
With that said she quickly walked passed him and into the hall, pausing only to pick up an umbrella from the stand before she closed the main door with a small click.
Clarice could feel the impending storm in the air. Through the dimming light of early evening she could make out the slow moving thunderclouds above her. Walking at a leisurely pace she made her way to the wooded park that was nearest their home. It was a place she had spent a lot of time in since their move here. In the daylight it was filled with laughing children, young lovers and elderly couples, all enjoying the warm sunshine that filtered down through the high trees that lined the long walkways. At night it was a place of tranquillity, where the high moon was the only light to guide her way, and the trees danced a slow waltz that seemed to calm her spirit. Absently kicking a few acorns from the path she finally let herself relax into the thoughts that had been skirting in the forefront of her mind all day. The first thing she saw was her fathers open casket. The image sent a bolt of sharp pain through her, immediately causing a loud sob to escape her throat. Holding a hand to her mouth she squeezed her eyes closed and continued walking, the image quickly fading to the dark part of her mind it had came from. Feeling her knees tremble she quickly made her way to the nearest bench and sat with a quiet thud, her hands drawing her long hair from her face. Looking out to the open field in front of her she had a flash of her father peeling oranges in their old kitchen, and this time she couldn't stop the tears that silently tracked down her face, glinting white in the moonlight. Bringing her legs up she wrapped her arms around them and buried her face in the warmth; small sobs of grief for the daddy that didn't see her grow up. It seemed that the flood gates had been opened and couldn't be closed again, the tears that left watery tracks on her pale face where nothing if not common by now. The first flash of lightening went un-noticed by Clarice, but the heavy rumble of thunder that followed brought her wet face from its hiding place to look at the sky. She nearly jumped clear off the bench when saw from the corner of her eye a dark figure sitting at the other end.
Standing at the far end she tilted her head to study the outline of the stranger that had managed to sneak up on her un-noticed. She knew that silhouette.
" The grief of the quiet past, is inadequate to the stormy present"
His voice washed over her in a quiet rumble that seemed more powerful than the thunder that rolled overhead. Relief, longing, grief and anger flooded her mind and she quickly sat on the opposite side of the bench, looking to the swaying trees for some sense of stability for her emotions. There were minutes of quiet refection and silent contemplation before he spoke once more.
" What date is it today Clarice?" came his smooth voice from the almost complete darkness.
There. The small hitch in her breathing was heard and he had almost all the answers he needed. She didn't answer his question, but he could feel the tiny tremble carry through the aged wood as she tried to hold back her emotions.
" You feel that you can't come to me, can't share this because of comments I have made in the past. In our past. You feel that I would ridicule and mock, torment and belittle the memory of your beloved father, or the place you keep for him, and him alone in your heart."
He could hear the tiny sobs that left her, could see the almost involuntary shivers that ran through her petite frame.
" This happens every year doesn't it Clarice. You become that scared little girl who lost everything. Your mind gives you no rest for twenty four hours, spinning a constant slide show of events, of images and daddy's voice."
"No.." the broken word was whispered into the night, and he watched as she quickly stood and began walking further down the tree-lined walkway.
The heavens decided it would share the mood and began crying it's own tears, heavy cold droplets of rain that left nothing untouched, including Hannibal and Clarice.
Clarice became aware of his presence following behind her from the tiny splashes his feet made on the now wet tarmac. Stopping, she heard him do the same, with her back to him she began to speak.
" They never caught the men who killed him. There was something of a manhunt when it first happened, locals and police alike cried outrage when they found his body. It only lasted a few days…then nothing. I was sent away….and that was it. There was nothing else. No more outcry, no more searching, no more justice." Her broken voice hissed the last word as though it burned her tongue.
Turning around she was met with his serious face, water running freely past his temples, his black overcoat shining in the little light cast by the partially obscured moon.
" You haven't moved on Clarice. When you think of your daddy, every day, you see him in a tragic light; you've trapped him in your mind, in a place where there is only pain and regret. When you recollect the only pictures or memories that come crashing to your minds eye are those of his last months, of his suffering and eventual death. You didn't have a chance to grieve your father's loss, the loss of your childhood, the loss of your innocence. You were forced into a place where grief and tears where only for the weak. You had to stay strong in the orphanage or you would have been seen as someone who wasn't able to cut it. And you were strong weren't you Clarice? You didn't cry anywhere outside of your bed at night. Then you left, and what did you take with you into the world Clarice? The fear of showing your emotions, the sense that justice hadn't been served, and a constant anger to everyone and everything that made you what you are. And what are you Clarice? In this moment in time you are a scared ten year old girl who has lost everything that was ever important to you."
His voice didn't raise or drop a decimal during his speech, his eyes never left her's.
" No-one else can help you, but you. You can let him go Clarice and no one will hurt or torment you. No one will condemn or sentence you. Not me, not the world, and not your father. You have to say goodbye to your father Clarice, you have to move on with your life. It's what he would have wanted."
Clarice stood immobile, her lip and legs trembling in time, her face wet and flushed from both her tears and the rain, and her hands now gripping his arms to ground her, to stop the world from spinning away from her. His words cut her deep and hit hidden truths as they always did. She could feel the ball of emotion lodged in her chest and struggled to keep it at bay as she always had. His words where calling for a release, she was scared to let it out for fear of never being able to stop.
" Let it go Clarice." He whispered in her ear, feeling the tremble as she worked against his words.
Clarice shivered, whether it was the cold from the rain or because she held her body so tense was debatable. Letting her head fall to his chest, under his chin, she looked to their feet, the swell of something hidden deep inside making her gasp and squeeze her eyes shut. She could feel it rushing to the surface and let out a loud whimper, feeling two strong hands pull her shoulders up and felt the warmth as she was suddenly in his arms.
Images that she had replayed a thousand times flashed once more, making her twitch as they didn't seem to be going away. Shaking her head as though to clear them she felt the hold around her tighten, only now realising she was whimpering and shuddering.
"Let it go.." she distantly heard as 24 years of grief spilled forth with a long scream. Falling to her knees she tried to bat away the warmth, the heat and comfort. It wasn't going away. Clarice felt as though her heart was breaking, felt as though she couldn't get a breath. Her entire mind was consumed with pain, everything around her slipped away until there was only her and her grief. No longer struggling against her anchor, she instead snuggled deeper into the warmth and security it provided, her screaming stopping, replaced with a simple sobbing that lasted for over an hour.
When all he could hear was a slight hiccup or shaky breath, he began to shift, bringing his arms under her legs and arms and gently lifting her from the wet tarmac they had been sitting on for over an hour. Walking the short distance back to the house, he helped her find her feet, opening the door with one hand he rested one on the small of her back as she entered, feeling the heat rush out to greet them. Following her into the bedroom he silently watched as she began to peel the wet clothes from her shivering body, absently wiping a stray tear in the process. She didn't meet his eyes once. Stepping away from the doorframe he walked over to the bed and lifted the thick velvet throw that lay folded at the bottom and gently draped it over her shoulders, and guided her silently to the bed.
The rain fell heavy against the thick glass window, a gentle, constant thrum that filled the room. Clarice couldn't remember a time when she had felt so tired, so worn. The bed seemed to swallow her up as she lay upon it, the crisp white pillow felt heavenly against her cheek, and the thick warm duvet cocooned her in warmth and comfort. The dark silhouette that sat at the edge of the bed was becoming blurred as she fought the pull of sleep, the blissful sense of relief one had when eventually closing your eyes. A warm hand touched her forehead and slowly glided down, closing her eyelids and warming her exposed cheek. As she began to drift on the plane between sleep and conciseness, a soft raspy voice filled her head, her mind wrapping around the words and taking them with her to her dreams.
"Look into the mirror Clarice, and behind the courage lays your father. He will always be with you. There is no greater sorrow than to recall, in misery, a time when we were happy Clarice. You have left your misery where it belongs, in the past. Look now to the future….and be truly happy."
Leaning over he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, before a flash of lightening caused his attention to turn to the wide window. The storm was shifting, breaking, moving away. The air was clearing; the rain-washing away the evidence that it had ever existed. 'Yes' he thought. 'Tomorrow will be a good day'.
Comments good or bad are appreciated….