Chapter Thirty Eight – Fly free
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'It's like you said, back in Milan...'
Of course he remembered.
Starling watching from the window of the museum. She wore a midnight blue gown – its silvery glow offset by her dark blonde hair. Simple earrings glittered on her lobes. She wore no necklace, no bracelet, and no ring. No extra decoration was needed.
It was late, and the Doctor and the ex-Agent were attending a charity function. In the five months they had lived in Milan, they had built up rather a social calendar – or rather, the Doctor had built up quite a social calendar. He thrived, out there amongst society and all of its splendour. Starling joked that it was to reassure himself of his aristocratic roots. It was strange, seeing him interact with so many strangers, whilst they had no idea what lurked beneath. She was finally privy to that side of him; the charming, intelligent Doctor that people saw, before they knew his true identity.
Tonight, they were exploring the museum's newest exhibit, following a dinner in the cavernous entrance hall. Lecter was still downstairs, discussing bone grafting techniques for maxillary implants with a young doctor from Cairo. Starling had left them to it, eager to slip away from the speeches and the small talk, and gone to explore.
The museum was silent at night, lit up for the charitable guests alone. Starling's feet on the marble floors were the only sound. She wandered the hallways and rooms for almost half an hour, before she chanced upon a small, turret-shaped room, tucked away at the back of the exhibit. It was beautiful in its simplicity – bare stone walls, adorned by one painting and a small window that looked out over the city. Wine glass in hand, Starling had stared out, absorbed in the view, until a voice spoke, directly behind her.
"Does the landscape please you, my lady?"
She turned her head, as the owner of the voice stepped closer.
Lecter moved to stand flush behind her, head over one shoulder. He was only a few inches taller than Starling and the perfect height to rest his jaw against her cheekbone. It was a stance he greatly favoured. Protective and possessive.
"Your lady?" she asked, looking sideways at her partner.
He was dressed in black tonight. Black tux, black shirt, black silk tie. On anyone else, it would have looked pretentious, but not the Doctor. He was born to wear such things, after all. A lord, by birthright.
He smiled, in response to her query.
"The young doctor downstairs referred to you as my lady. I thought it had a ring to it."
Starling's turn to smile.
"Like it?" he asked.
"Well, I'll let it slide, jus' for the moment."
He chuckled, and they turned their attention back to the view.
"There was a flock of birds, jus' a minute ago." Starling pointed to the cathedral spire, which they had disappeared behind.
"Starlings." Lecter spoke softly, more of a whisper against her skin.
"Really?"
"Yes. Very common in the winter, here. They would usually have moved further north by now..." His eyes swept the horizon. "They will get a surprise if they roost there," he added, pointing towards the cathedral. "Those bells ring out on the hour."
Starling pulled a face.
"Poor birds."
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about your passerine counterparts," the Doctor smiled. "They have survived here, long before humans came to build cities."
"They were pretty beautiful earlier." Starling had told him. "They flew together – like they knew what each other were gonna do, before they did it."
"They are very beautiful." He agreed, softly.
"There must have been nearly a thousand."
"Upwards of, most likely." His hand fell to stroking slow circles on her lower back. "You know, in Rome, come December, Starlings congregate in their masses. They wreak all sorts of havoc, believe me, but there is something ethereal about watching them fly together. They form spheres – huge formations, of up to one and a half million birds."
"Damn..." Starling looked back out to the sky. "You know, for them bein' my namesake and all, I've never actually seen one up close, like at the zoo, or anything."
"Perhaps, some birds are not meant to be caged."
She had met his gaze with knowing eyes.
Like you, perhaps, Doctor? Like me?
From within the shadows of the cathedral – the only dark spot amongst the city's sparkling lights – the bells rang out for eleven o' clock. Like an explosion, the small birds erupted, pouring into the sky. They turned and wheeled around one another, in what appeared to be leaderless chaos. And then, following some deep instinct, which humans (Starlings or not) could never hope to understand, they broke from their whirling and the entire formation split off across the night sky.
"Fly free, little Starlings." He whispered against her cheek, words like kisses in the night.
"Fly free." She echoed.
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Inside the walls of the MCAC, behind steel doors and titanium bars, the Doctor sat upon his bare bed frame. Everything he owned had been taken by the guards, earlier that afternoon. Yet, he felt no sadness. Quite the contrary, in fact.
Below the stoic facade, he was elated. His mind was racing. All that glisters truly was not gold! 'Fly free' she had told him, all those nights ago, in Milan. So, this was not end game... not yet, anyways. His Starling had a few tricks left up her sleeve.
Up his sleeve, he held something too. Lying flat against his skin – out of sight, but never far out of mind – was a single feather. It was a parting gift from a free bird. A gift and a promise.
"Fly free."
The Doctor leant his head back against the concrete wall. The word 'free' had never tasted so sweet as it did upon his parched lips. He whispered it, over and over, to himself in the dark.