Chapter Fifty Three – What we do
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They arrived back at the duplex just in time to see Mapp pulling into the driveway. She was back late, after a hard day, and looked frazzled. Nonetheless, she insisted on cooking them dinner, as promised.
"It'll relax me, honest." She insisted, shooing the pair of them inside to the kitchen and enlisting Starling's help to cut the vegetables – an unwise move, as Starling's girth prevented full movement, in the confined kitchen space. Within minutes, she was told to go relax somewhere and they'd call her when it was done. As Starling left the room, she could not help but smile at the pair of them, arguing over the diced vegetables like an old married couple. Whatever base Mapp and Vale were at, she was pretty sure they were going to be fine.
It was nice, thought Starling, as she made her way back to her side of the house. It was nice that Mapp finally had someone besides her. It would make her feel a whole lot better when she was driving away.
Starling turned the heating on and threw herself down across the bedspread of her old iron-framed bed. The sheets were cold. She had never quite figured out how to get the central heating to switch-on on a timer. She had never much bothered about coming back to a cold house before, but now her back was aching and her feet were sore. Pregnancy was a bitch. After considering a bath – then vetoing the idea on the grounds that it involved both time and effort – Starling threw off her clothes, pulled on a pair of pyjama shorts, and crawled into bed. Wrapping herself in the six layers of quilts and blankets, she wriggled around until she was comfortable, then let out a heavy sigh.
She was not tired. Her nerves, over what she and Vale were going to do tomorrow, would not allow her to sleep. Their actions were punishable by prison time. If they were caught, it would prevent her from being with Hannibal. But she could not just leave. For once, she had the power to see justice done. And she had made a promise to Mendez, without whom the Doctor would never have escaped. She owed him, she could not just leave.
Starling turned her head sideways on her pillow and gazed out the window. The yard was deep in snow. January night's ink-blue skies were streaked with paler clouds. Mapp's car was in the driveway, its rusting bumper just visible above the snow banks Starling had shovelled up early that morning. She had nearly broken her back doing it. As her cocoon of bed sheets became warmed by her body, Starling began to relax. Her stomach was complaining slightly, but she did not want to intrude on her friends' dinner together. They would have precious little time to spend together in the coming weeks.
With her head turned to the window, she lay completely still, letting her mind wander over her plans for tomorrow night – picking them apart and putting them together over and over again, just in case there were any flaws. She found none. Starling was still thinking through the plans when there was a knock at the door.
"Hey."
Mapp's head appeared around the doorframe.
"You hungry? Food's up!"
Starling hesitated for a moment, and then shook her head with a smile.
"Sorry, girl, it's nothing personal, but I'm just feelin' a bit nauseous. Think I'll sit this one out."
Mapp looked worried.
"You okay?"
"I'm fine, just don't feel like eatin' right now. How about you keep a plate for me?"
Mapp paused, and then nodded.
"Okay, if you're sure..."
"I'm fine."
She faked a yawn.
"Think I'll have an early night. I'm exhausted."
There were footsteps in the hall, and then Vale's face appeared beside Mapp's.
"You comin'?" he asked.
"Nah, she's going to get some sleep." Mapp placed one arm on his shoulder, turning him back. "Let's leave her to it."
Starling smiled at the hidden intimacy of the movement, the way her fingers gripped then released his skin. It was something Mapp had not even noticed she did, yet. It was something you didn't notice until you couldn't do it anymore. Then you missed those little moments like hell.
Another fake yawn induced a hasty retreat from her two friends. Starling bid them goodnight as they disappeared, but neither replied. They were lost in conversation and each other's eyes. Starling felt a pang of longing that had nothing to do with her stomach. Rolling onto her side, she pulled her blankets up to her chin, gazing out the open window. The night sky was a watercolour masterpiece, painting the snow below shades of purple. Rubbing her eyes she burrowed deeper. Her bed was soft, her quilt was warm. There was laughter from the kitchen and sounds of pots and pans being banged around. Gil's dog tags tinkled in the distance. Starling stared out into the snow.
A satellite phone was wedged between the headboard and mattress of the bed, her sole link with the man a hundred miles away. She could call him now, she thought, but it was too big a risk. Linking this place with the cabin, up north - connecting her to Mendez and Lecter to anyone who was listening. Besides, if all went well, she would not need a phone. She would have a body to share her bed, some warmth against the coming winter.
Starling closed her eyes. It had been summer when last they touched. Would it take another season before she could hold him again? Could she last that long? She breathed out heavy, feeling the warmth bounce off the quilt and onto her cheeks. She would last as long as she could, she told herself. That was how she worked. That was what he had mocked her for in the past; what he was frustrated with, now; her inability to turn away. Her inability to admit failure in the face of insurmountable odds. Mendez was her lamb. That is what he had said the other night on the phone. She supposed he had a point. Whatever her subliminal motivations, however, there was no way she was leaving the young man to an injustice she had helped perpetuate. She had used him, to free Hannibal. She had used the world's readiness to believe his guilt and left him little better off than he had been when they met. Justice was further away than ever.
There was a lot to do, she thought. The lure of the cabin in the woods was strong. She longed to wrap herself in him and lie there, watching their woods fill up with snow. But true peace was to be found here, first. So, she would rest tonight, then tomorrow she would fight on. She would reveal Woodley, save Mendez, and maybe even get out of this all alive. A fragment of a poem, in a familiar voice, drifted through her mind.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
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Over on the other side of the house, Vale and Mapp stood across from each other, in the dark of her bedroom. The soft blue light from outside lit the lines of their bodies. They stood across from her. She was naked except for her panties. He was wearing trousers and a single sock. The cold of the room had pricked their skin with goosebumps.
He was more nervous than she was. Then again, she had done this a few more times than he had.
Eight extra years hadn't affected her body any, though. She was as lean as he was and in fine form. Her limbs were long and her skin smooth. The moonlight creeping in through a crack in the blinds lit the sharp edge of her sides. As they stood across from each other, he almost held his breath. She was beautiful and he had waited so long for this.
"You okay?"
"Of course I'm okay." He cleared his throat. "I just, you know, don't wanna fuck this up."
"Shut up."
She closed the distance between them and reached up to touch his cheek. Her fingers were warm and soft, though her body was lean and hard.
"It's taken us half a year to get here." She laughed, her voice twitching his muscles in response. "We don't need to talk. I know you. You know me. We're good." Her eyes sought his, dark and soft.
"Yeah," he exhaled loudly, "but, you know, you're really hot and I've not done this in a while and... you're really hot."
She laughed again, tilting her head back to kiss him. He kissed her back. They were almost the same height and their lips felt right against one another. It was easy to brush his finger against her cheek and easy for them to stumble backwards to the bed. They stumbled a bit more, awkwardly pulling off their remaining clothes and wrestling each other back onto the sheets.
They were both young and the only limitations were their inhibitions. As their strong bodies fought to meet each other in some sort of rhythm, Vale found himself looking down at her in awe, still unable to believe that the soft cries she elicited were for him; that she was for him. But she was. As she locked her leg around his – her calf muscle hardening them softening as she helped to rock them – she told him she was. She said it first in a whisper, then against his neck. Her lips left faint wet patches on his skin that shone in the moonlit room. The cold of the air did not bother them now, as they created heat through movement.
It wasn't delicate or smooth and there was no finesse. As they pushed and pulled at each other's bodies, they slipped and missed. It didn't last very long and there was a lot more sweat than should have been required. But, as they lay semi-sprawled over each other afterwards, they both agreed it had been a success. They were good together. Everything they had though, in secret moments over the last year, had been true. She was beautiful, and he was strong, and they fit good together. Tomorrow, there would be time for deeper introspection than that. Tonight, they curled into the hollows of one another's bodies and fell into deep and dreamless sleep.
