"Doth hear'est I wedding bells in the future?" Special Agent Ardelia Mapp of the FBI asked Clarice Starling, once-notorious agent now reduced to journalist for the New York Times, a job she enjoyed more than people credited her.
"Wedding bells?" she answered with some surprise. "Umm…he hasn't proposed yet, and even if he does…I…"
"What, Starling? You love the guy, don't you?"
"I've only been seeing him for a year, Ardelia."
"Do you have any idea how much progress that is over other couples?"
Starling shook her head, moving to the other side of the living room of her duplex. Taking a seat by the window where she had an excellent view of New York, she pressed the cordless phone to her ear to hear Mapp better, exerting a breath as her eyes gazed over the city.
"I don't care about most couples," she retorted after a minute. "I don't think I'll ever be ready for marriage. I'll be ready to be buried before I'm ready to walk down any aisle."
From the other end of the connection, there was a low grumble of disapproval.
"Girl, what exactly are you afraid of?"
Nothing,
Starling answered to herself. Nothing,
except losing everything.
"Commitment."
"That's the guy's excuse. Don't switch roles on me."
Starling bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood to bait away the smile, even though the room was vacant and no one was within range to witness it.
"Marriage is for normal people, Ardelia. I am not a normal person. Too much has happened to me…"
And indeed, that was the truth. Too much had happened over the course of the past fourteen years, enough to make her question the true value of life as though she contemplated the idea of ending her own. But Clarice Starling was better than that, above it, and though there had been times, many times, when she was desperate to get out, she knew that was never an option.
Four years from her last tragedy, and she felt she was finally getting over it. A new town, a new job, a new man, everything a girl her age could want. She supposed she was lucky, a thirty-seven year old woman, unmarried, had the potential of scaring most men away, and had on several occasions. Those who found themselves able to carry on with a second or third date soon discovered of her prior association with the FBI, and suddenly remembered why the name 'Clarice Starling' sounded so familiar. Then, in a very methodical manner, they would stop calling, stop swinging by, stop seeing her altogether. To the world, she was marked as the property – or keen interest – of Dr. Hannibal Lecter. Most knew of her relationship with him, had many of their own ideas, carried several exaggerated truths, and were well aware of her last minutes with Dr. Lecter in the kitchen. Starling wondered if she blurted out the fatal kiss while under the influence of morphine, as it had almost shredded her career.
Almost.
The FBI knew she was not only the person who could find Dr. Lecter, but also the only one who had a chance of apprehending him alive. After virtually abandoning her for three weeks, they sent a messenger to offer her job back. It was too late, and she handed in her resignation.
Mapp had almost abandoned her as well, not seeing how she could've rescued that man, risking and losing everything. A very detailed three-hour conversation clarified Starling's motives, saving their friendship. Not only that, Mapp's feelings for the FBI darkened, and she encouraged the resignation, threatening to do so herself.
The only thing she hadn't supported was Starling's move to another state, not too horribly far but far enough to influence a gap in their sister-like relationship. However, that had not dampened her enough to convince her not to go apartment hunting with her two weeks after the resignation took place. Within a month, Starling was a resident of the Big Apple. She conversed with Mapp every day and alternated visiting each other on weekends.
Eventually, Starling met a man that did not flinch when he learned of her past, nor was he threatened by the absence of any prior relationships. His name was Nicholas Randall, and he was a successful lawyer who specialized in criminal law. He found her past fascinating, and asked several times if he might write a book about it.
Despite how wonderful he was, how good he was to her, Starling found herself shunning the idea of a relationship with each step she took. It was at times like these that she felt like screaming, at herself and at the stars for making her who she was. What was wrong with her? Running from a healthy relationship with someone who respected her and she could respect back, running, running, and tripping with every stride.
The thought of marriage made her nauseous. She didn't know if it was the institution itself or merely the idea of marrying him. Chances were, it dealt with both. However much she liked him, she never grew into that divine state of love. Now, after a year of seeing each other exclusively, she doubted it would ever come to that.
Hidden beneath layers of morals and incorruptibility, the reason for this pounded on her insides, screaming to be released. Having concealed it from both the public and herself for fourteen years, Starling found no need to answer it now.
It took Mapp's impatient voice for Starling to snap back to the present.
"Damn straight too much has happened to you!" she was saying. "That's why you deserve this! Come on, Starling, don't blow it over HIM." Ever since the night at Chesapeake, Mapp refused to say Dr. Lecter's name. It wasn't needed. The emphasis on 'him' made everyone very aware to whom she was referring.
In spite of the consequences, Starling wished desperately that she would address him by his name, yet knew better than to request it. Mapp could understand her motives for saving him those four years ago, but she could never respect them, no matter how she tried. And even through that, Starling could accept it. Mapp didn't know Dr. Lecter, no one knew him like she did, and she couldn't faithfully say she knew him that well.
"I'm not wasting it over Dr. Lecter, Ardelia," Starling said, not knowing if it was the truth but having a very fine idea. "I wasn't even thinking about him." That, she knew, was a lie. With as much as she thought about him before the Muskrat Farm, she thought of him a hundred times more now. It was inevitable.
"You can't lie to me, babe," Mapp said stubbornly. "I know you too well."
A pause. "All right, so I think of him from time to time. Trust me, you would, too if he was ever inside your head."
"That's precisely why I wouldn't let him in."
"Ardelia…if he wanted in, there isn't a damn thing in the world you could do to stop him."
"Oh, I bet I could. Bust a cap on his ass."
"He'd see it coming before you had a chance. You can't surprise him easily."
"EASILY, Starling. There's the keyword. Does anything ever come by me easily?"
Starling shook her head, knowing no sense would come to Mapp unless she actually stood before Dr. Lecter and was able to endure that burning gaze that saw more than just her inexperience and extreme self-confidence. Once Mapp did that, and if she could walk away unchanged, then she would have Starling's support.
But such an opportunity would never arise. A quip of sadness gripped her as she thought of this, brief, fleeting, but existent nonetheless.
"Whatever, Ardelia. You can believe what you want."
"I will. You know I will."
From outside, Starling saw Nicholas's Mercedes pull into the drive. However he managed to maneuver through New York traffic, Starling would never know.
"Ardelia, I gotta go. Nick's here."
"Ooh la la!" Mapp gasped in a fake French accent. "Be sure to give him a kiss for me!"
Starling shook her head and hung up. She placed the phone back on the hook and moved quickly to the door. On the way, she past the mirror, made sure she looked decent – meaning; she gave the mirror a half-assed glance – and headed outdoors after grasping her purse.
Flashing a fake though winning smile, she climbed into the car and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. As they backed out, Starling sighed and found her breath was quivering, but didn't know why.
"Where are we going?" she asked a minute later.
"It's a surprise," he replied with a knowing grin.
A shudder ran up her spine, a very unwelcome yet eerily wanted memory coming to her.
{"Never ask. It spoils the surprise."}
With a vague smile, Starling let out another breath before shaking her head clear of these thoughts. They would do nothing for her now, especially with Nicholas, on their way to what promised to be an over-done, intensely romantic evening.
As things turned out, Nicholas had a bit more on his mind than a simple, uncomplicated night on the town. Much more.
* * *