Chapter 9
"What now?" asked Ardelia, her voice huskier. " Are you going to kill me too?"
"No," Clarice answered, simply. She holstered the pistol and found keys on the inside of Tommaso's jacket.
"I'm going to let you loose now, but take it from me, Dee. Don't try anything. I don't want to hurt you. I'm going to let you loose, and you're going to leave," she was working all the time she spoke. The jacket started coming apart, and Ardelia could move her arms a little.
"You're going to leave, you're going back to your life, and you're going to tell about everything that happened, here. I wont ask you to lie." Ardelia was free. She moved slowly, and Clarice backed away, one hand resting on her pistol.
"I'm not leaving without you."
"Yes, you are."
"And what about Lecter? Are you going to-"
Clarice held up a hand to stop Ardelia.
"Go. NOW!" she screamed. Ardelia flinched, and found herself backing away, toward the barn doors.
"Don't trust him, Clarice. Don't trust anyone."
"I won't. I love you, Dee."
"I love you, too. Don't bother trying to leave the country for a while. They'll be watching every airport. Change your hair. Change anything else, if you can."
Clarice laughed. "I know that."
"Right."
"Go home."
"It's your home too."
"It's really, really not."
There was nothing else she could think to say. Ardelia went to the van and busied herself hotwiring it. When it was done, she looked up. She could see Clarice standing in the barn form where she sat in the van. She hadn't moved and was looking at her. Ardelia waved, immediately feeling like the gesture was stupid and wrong, but Clarice waved back. For some reason, it touched her deeply in some way, and she cried all the way out of Muskrat Farm, and down the Highway.
When she could no longer see the van, Clarice took a deep breath.
"Alone at last," said Dr. Lecter. Clarice gave him a look.
"So...is it the key or the pistol for me?"
Clarice was walking toward him, her finger tapping her mouth.
"Hmm. Neither, actually. I am going to leave you with my bootknife, though."
"That's very generous."
"Yes, it is."
"So this is goodbye for now, I take it."
Clarice raised an eyebrow. "For now?" She shook her head.
"No. This is goodbye, period. I don't want to see you, hear from you or know anything about where you are or what you're up to. Got that? Do right and you'll live through this."
"Spoken like a protestant."
She found herself smiling. She fiddled with the knife in her hand a moment.
"Something on your mind?"
"Yes. May I ask you a question before I go?"
"You may."
"Would you bite me if I got close?"
"I do enjoy your frankness. No, Clarice. I wouldn't bite you."
'I've been thinking...okay. We're going to do this once. And then I'm serious, I don't want anything to do with you after today. I just..." she stepped closer, and he watched her, the red pinpoints in his eyes sparking. She had stepped onto the platform in front of him to be level. Their faces were very close, now.
"I just want to see something. I don't feel much, now. "
"Being numb is a natural coping mechanism. You should embrace it, for now."
"I may have no choice, in that. But I want to feel, I need to feel something. Anything."
"Ah. And you think getting close to the creature behind the bars will do it? Is it a little thrill you're seeking?"
She didn't answer, but was looking at him. Their noses almost touched, and they breathed quietly, regarding one another.
"That's not really how I'd put it," she answered. Dr. Lecter did not respond in words or in expression, but his nostrils flared and he closed his eyes for a moment. She tilted her head, but didn't quite kiss his mouth. His nose grazed her cheek, and he kept his eyes closed, savoring the warmth from her face, the intensity of her scent. Their lips parted a bit and grazed, but it did not escalate. Dr. Lecter shifted his head, his nose touching her own and he briefly tasted her upper lip. She did not protest or move away, but whatever contact they made continued as just beyond proxy. She was smelling him too, he noticed, and he bent his head, his mouth and nose touching her neck and she moved to accommodate him. A shudder released through her and she moved away.
"That's enough," she said quietly, tucking her hair behind her ears and stepping down from the podium. Her face and throat were flushed.
"Clarice. You're as lovely as an burgeoning lily of the valley." She didn't respond immediately, and he continued.
"Are you familiar with that flower species? They're quite innocent-looking, but are in fact very poisonous. And difficult to kill. "
"I'm going, now."
"Where will you go?"
"None of your business," she said, but she wore a wry grin.
"I see."
"Dr. Lecter?"
"Clarice?"
"Do not try to find me."
"Hmm."
"Do not."
"Do not presume to think you can control me, Clarice." The statement seemed to give her pause.
"No, I wouldn't. But I will ask you, politely, to not look for me. "
"I appreciate your courtesy and candor, but I will not make promises regarding my actions in the future, and it wouldn't be appropriate to do so."
Clarice sighed, looking at him. A moment passed.
"I have to go," she said, extending her arm and placing the handle of the knife in his hand, before backing away. He went to work with, immediately.
"Don't drop it. That would be unfortunate," she said, moving toward the barn doors.
"Ms. Mapp was right. Do not trust anyone."
"Goodbye, Dr. Lecter."
"I'm very glad to have seen you, Clarice. Addio cara mia."
Outside, the sun was beginning to rise. At the horizon, the sun lit up the clouds with pinks and oranges, and above, an inky indigo. She could smell Dr. Lecter on her, broadcloth and something else a bit peppery and piquant. It was very much a new day, and as she walked across the grounds toward the fire road, she found herself savoring every sensation. The myriad of colors she hadn't seen in months, the smell of pine, sap and mast; the smell of life, decay and rebirth.
Trees have various terms for their anatomy, and the one called heartwood refers to the tree's center, which is strong and resistent to decay and penetration. Within Clarice Starling had grown an indelible mark at her center, and while it did not weaken or penetrate her, she was changed. She felt free, but it was not just the newfound freedom from imprisonment and torture, it was something else. She was free from herself, or at least whatever idea of 'herself' that she had created over the years in order to appease the world she felt she had no choice but to live in. There had been deep, thick cords tying her to that world, it had seemed. Those cords had been cut visciously, and it had hurt as it would hurt to have tendons cut and torn. But pain had become her friend in Mason's dungeon, she had embraced pain. She had learned to not run from it.
She would not be afraid, never again. Clarice never saw Muskrat Farm again, nor did she often think of it. Clarice continued to live in the present, and not only live in it, but savor it.
