Hey, first of all, to those who commented, thanks so much. Generally I don't like what I write, but I love this story and it's great to know that others are enjoying it, too. And thanks for the feed-back on the Loving Lecter "rules"... It's also great to know that people actually agree with me once in a while, lol. Anyway, my sincere thanks, you all rule.
Chapter Two.
"Dad, honestly," she said with a laugh.
He laughed too. "I am being honest! Are you accusing your father of lying?"
She giggled more. "That doesn't look like a duck! How do you even see a duck?! It's so an eagle."
"It is not. It's a duck."
"Daddy!" she cried, laughing.
The Lecter family spent many days like this, out in the sun, looking to the sky. It had been one of Mischa's favorite games ever since she was just a baby to guess what the clouds looked like. Thirteen years later, she still loved it.
"Would you two stop it?" Starling begged. "It's embarrassing. What will the neighbors think?" Everything was silent for a few moments. "Besides, it looks like a cat," she added.
Both Lecter and Mischa laughed, Mischa rolling across the ground from where her and her father had been lying.
She rolled onto her elbows, pushing her upper body upward and resting her chin onto her palms. "Mom, what did you and your parents do for fun?" she asked, simply.
Starling smiled bitterly as she put the book she was reading down onto the blanket. "Well, my mother never did much of anything. She cooked, she cleaned. She always sent me outside to play with your aunts and uncles."
"What were they like?" Mischa asked, more enthused.
"Your Aunt Lindsay was a lot of fun. We were best friends. We liked to pretend that we were rabbits a lot; We would run into the house and steal carrots and lettuce from Mom's salad. Mom got so angry when she found out..." She replied with a laugh. Mischa laughed, too
"Did I ever do anything like that?" Mischa asked, pushing herself up from her elbows and sitting.
"No..." Starling said, crawling over to her daughter. "You were just a weird child. Always reading, always playing piano. But you know one thing that you did normal?" She asked, stopping her crawling and sitting.
"What's that?"
"You always loved," she said, inching closer, "To be tickled!" and with that she attacked, leaving Mischa laughing helplessly on the grass.
"Mo...m...stop!" She screatched.
Starling backed off across the ground as Mischa, laughing, sat herself back up. "That's so old, Mom."
"'That's so old, Mom', 'That's so old, Mom'," she mocked. "You're NEVER too old for your mother, Young Lady."
"Your Mom has a point," Lecter added in.
Mischa rolled her eyes.
"Do you have homework?" Starling asked, standing up and walking back to the blanket.
"Mom, it's Saturday."
"I don't care. Do you have homework?"
"Yes. A page in math and lesson eighteen in French."
"Bon. Tu parle français trés bien." (Good. You speak French very well.)
"Oui, je sais. That's why it's easy and I can do it TOMORROW!" she said, sticking out her tongue. (Yes, I know.)
"Do as your mother says, Mischa."
"But Da-"
"Mischa."
"Fine! But I'll be back her in ten minutes." She ran off through the sliding glass doors into the house.
Starling laughed. "Ah, the innocence of the youth, even if they aren't that innocent..." she said, folding the blanket off of the hill.
"She's still innocent. What her parents have done should not affect her life."
"But it does, and it will. You and I both know that."
"After she's eighteen, how much different will it be for her, Clarice?"
"She'll never be able to go by her real name. She'll always be Mischa Lavigne, never Mischa Lecter. And with the way we've always moved, she's never had true friends, she'll never trust people..."
He came to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Don't worry about Mischa. She has your spirit."
She chuckled. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"She'll never give up, no matter what the circumstances. She'll always manage to find a way."
Starling smiled before breaking loose from her husband's grasp. "I don't know. I just love her so much, Hannibal..."
"I love her, too, of course, but there's nothing we can do now besides hold out the faith. Clarice, she's Hannibal Lecter's daughter."
"That's a comfort?"
He laughed. "It was meant to be."
The sliding doors flew open with a crash as Mischa ran out.
"Done already?!" Starling cried.
"Mom, come on! It's was so easy!"
She smiled. "That's my girl."
Chapter Two.
"Dad, honestly," she said with a laugh.
He laughed too. "I am being honest! Are you accusing your father of lying?"
She giggled more. "That doesn't look like a duck! How do you even see a duck?! It's so an eagle."
"It is not. It's a duck."
"Daddy!" she cried, laughing.
The Lecter family spent many days like this, out in the sun, looking to the sky. It had been one of Mischa's favorite games ever since she was just a baby to guess what the clouds looked like. Thirteen years later, she still loved it.
"Would you two stop it?" Starling begged. "It's embarrassing. What will the neighbors think?" Everything was silent for a few moments. "Besides, it looks like a cat," she added.
Both Lecter and Mischa laughed, Mischa rolling across the ground from where her and her father had been lying.
She rolled onto her elbows, pushing her upper body upward and resting her chin onto her palms. "Mom, what did you and your parents do for fun?" she asked, simply.
Starling smiled bitterly as she put the book she was reading down onto the blanket. "Well, my mother never did much of anything. She cooked, she cleaned. She always sent me outside to play with your aunts and uncles."
"What were they like?" Mischa asked, more enthused.
"Your Aunt Lindsay was a lot of fun. We were best friends. We liked to pretend that we were rabbits a lot; We would run into the house and steal carrots and lettuce from Mom's salad. Mom got so angry when she found out..." She replied with a laugh. Mischa laughed, too
"Did I ever do anything like that?" Mischa asked, pushing herself up from her elbows and sitting.
"No..." Starling said, crawling over to her daughter. "You were just a weird child. Always reading, always playing piano. But you know one thing that you did normal?" She asked, stopping her crawling and sitting.
"What's that?"
"You always loved," she said, inching closer, "To be tickled!" and with that she attacked, leaving Mischa laughing helplessly on the grass.
"Mo...m...stop!" She screatched.
Starling backed off across the ground as Mischa, laughing, sat herself back up. "That's so old, Mom."
"'That's so old, Mom', 'That's so old, Mom'," she mocked. "You're NEVER too old for your mother, Young Lady."
"Your Mom has a point," Lecter added in.
Mischa rolled her eyes.
"Do you have homework?" Starling asked, standing up and walking back to the blanket.
"Mom, it's Saturday."
"I don't care. Do you have homework?"
"Yes. A page in math and lesson eighteen in French."
"Bon. Tu parle français trés bien." (Good. You speak French very well.)
"Oui, je sais. That's why it's easy and I can do it TOMORROW!" she said, sticking out her tongue. (Yes, I know.)
"Do as your mother says, Mischa."
"But Da-"
"Mischa."
"Fine! But I'll be back her in ten minutes." She ran off through the sliding glass doors into the house.
Starling laughed. "Ah, the innocence of the youth, even if they aren't that innocent..." she said, folding the blanket off of the hill.
"She's still innocent. What her parents have done should not affect her life."
"But it does, and it will. You and I both know that."
"After she's eighteen, how much different will it be for her, Clarice?"
"She'll never be able to go by her real name. She'll always be Mischa Lavigne, never Mischa Lecter. And with the way we've always moved, she's never had true friends, she'll never trust people..."
He came to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Don't worry about Mischa. She has your spirit."
She chuckled. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"She'll never give up, no matter what the circumstances. She'll always manage to find a way."
Starling smiled before breaking loose from her husband's grasp. "I don't know. I just love her so much, Hannibal..."
"I love her, too, of course, but there's nothing we can do now besides hold out the faith. Clarice, she's Hannibal Lecter's daughter."
"That's a comfort?"
He laughed. "It was meant to be."
The sliding doors flew open with a crash as Mischa ran out.
"Done already?!" Starling cried.
"Mom, come on! It's was so easy!"
She smiled. "That's my girl."