Dr. Lecter had a
visible lead, but she hardly let that discourage her. The car she was provided with was living up to its title as a
rental, and she feared several times it would abruptly break down. However, it remained in motion and that was
all that mattered. As long as she could
see his car, which she was sure was his motive; she failed to scream her
frustration.
When Dr. Lecter
pulled into the parking lot a dark building, Starling's eyes narrowed. It seemed no matter where she went; there
was always an abandoned warehouse to investigate.
As she pulled
alongside his car and parked – his lead gratifying him time to get out and
enter the building before she could catch up – Starling considered that he had
this planned from the beginning, knowing she would ultimately find him. Thinking back to the opera, she verified
that she saw him only because he let her, and despite the location of their
reencounter, she would not be here unless he wanted it so.
That thought was
frightening. Here she was, complying to
this man's plans, having no choice but to follow, even if her murderous query
was located in the stereotypical deserted storehouse.
Starling
double-checked her backup weapons and ammunition. Everything was perfectly intact.
She fit her car keys and the handcuffs into the front pockets of her
jacket, the sense of dread returning. Tortured thoughts raced through her mind,
and she knew that if it came down to it, shooting Dr. Lecter was a requirement
of her career, not an option that she could willfully reject. However, she likewise knew that she was just
as likely to shoot herself first. This
man was unlike any fugitive she had chased before, and she knew it, despite all
her attempts to convince herself otherwise.
He wouldn't kill her as those in the past would. Starling preferred to think that everyone
that died at her hand was justifiable only in the sense that they would do no
different to her, given the opportunity.
With that safety out of the way, proceeding was very difficult.
And the entire
reason she was here alone was because she requested so. She requested it to assure herself that Dr.
Lecter would go in unharmed. That
remained as true now as it had then.
But did *he*
know that? Probably. Perhaps she could convince him
otherwise. She had fooled him with the
hope of Plum Island. Was it possible to
pull the same trick twice?
She had to hope.
Before exiting
the vehicle, Starling again attempted contact with the backup squad. A breath of relief shuddered through her as
connection was made. She issued her
location as well as her continued plans, only with minimal protest from the
other end. There was no need to repeat
her speech that she knew what she was doing.
They had bought that already.
The hard part
was convincing herself.
As Starling
opened the door, hand steady on her .45, she had the reassurance that the other
officers would arrive within ten to fifteen minutes. Dr. Lecter took enough twists and turns to confuse a native of
this town. With the assistance of local
authority, she would have the backing she needed soon.
Though she knew
initially Dr. Lecter wasn't going anywhere, she had to be sure he wouldn't lead
her inside only to sneak away when it was convenient. Lowering her gun to the front tire of his Sudan, she flinched a
bit and fired.
Feeling the need
to double check once more, Starling's hand crept into the front pockets of her
jacket. Her keys rattled alongside the
handcuffs in faint reassurance.
Sighing, she glanced to the entrance, considering the minutes to follow
with ever-growing trepidation.
But she couldn't
turn back. This was her job. Right now, a burger flipper at McDonalds
rivaled for the more attractive occupation.
Starling
shuddered as she entered, engulfed with darkness. She was surprised but pleased when her eyes complied to adjust
quickly. Each step she took betrayed
her location. If Dr. Lecter was moving,
it was decidedly unheard. Of course,
she didn't expect him to make noise, unless he wanted his position
revealed. That would be too easy.
When she
realized she wasn't going to surprise anybody, she opted to try to talk reason
into him. It failed before at Union
Station, but that was when bounty hunters were her competition. Here, safely away from demented revenge-bent
former victims, she convinced herself it might work.
Might.
Hah.
Still, she heard
herself raise her voice, and likewise felt the expected idiocy that
followed. "Dr. Lecter! The authorities will be here any
minute. There's no way out. Turn yourself in, and I promise no harm will
come to you."
The redundancy
of her words made her sick to her stomach.
Again, she was presented with an unwanted memory.
("Will you stay
with me in my prison cell and hold my hand?
We could have some fun…")
Her voice rang
in mocking echo for a few seconds before dying in the darkness. Letting out a deep breath, she decided
against following it up immediately.
Allow him time to consider, reciprocate, Heaven-forbid, turn himself in.
Turn himself
in? Psh. Yeah right.
A few minutes of
silence followed. Starling paused in
stride to listen. Nothing. Not even the expected creaks of an older
building, regardless of the number of occupants. It was as though she were alone, but given the disposition of his
vehicle; she knew it could not be so.
She omitted a
defeated breath, toyed with the idea of speaking again, and decided against
it. A few more minutes. Pushing herself to the wall, Starling was
aware of the heaviness of her breaths, the weary signs of fatigue.
Apart of her
almost expected to wake suddenly, to find herself at the start of this day
instead of the end of it. At that
moment, it seemed entirely possible.
Having had her share of similar nightmares the night before, she came to
the point to expect anything.
But in her gut,
Starling knew this was cold reality.
She was really here, lurking in the dark of a warehouse, searching for a
cannibalistic serial killer whose silence would put any mime to shame. As the seconds ticked by, she noted dryly
that her breaths were escalating in anxiety.
An instinctive
motion forewarned the end to this game.
Starling tensed slightly, aware every hair on her arm was sticking up, a
shiver shot down her spine, though the warehouse climate included rather
companionable warmth. Slowly, she
crossed to a separate hallway, biting her lip.
This was perhaps darker than the others she had ventured through, and
the warmth not as comfortable.
She avoided
cursing herself for forgetting a flashlight.
Whatever she could have done to change the outcome of this evening was
in the past, and she refused to dwell on what couldn't be changed.
Still, a
flashlight would be nice.
Steadying her
breathing, as well as blind aim, Starling decided to attempt at starting a line
of conversation once more. It couldn't
hurt anything. She paused a minute to
listen for approaching sirens, but the silence of the warehouse betrayed
nothing that sounded outside its walls.
They better get
here soon. She didn't know how much
longer she could take this.
Turning her eyes
back to the dark hall, she elevated her chin slightly, as if the motion would
cause her voice to echo with more reliability.
"Dr. Lecter!" For the minute,
she decided against following the initial call of his title with more idle
threats. She knew if she couldn't stir him from his hiding place with simply
his name, threatening his freedom would be of little use.
"Dr. Lecter!"
Silence.
"Dr. Lecter…?"
Silence.
"Doctor—"
The events that
followed occurred too rapidly for Starling to register at first. The sensation of being dragged off her feet
commenced a dizzy spell…then the room was spinning. In a fury of quick movements, she felt her gun arm twist behind
her back as a hand pried her trousers open and retrieved her backup weapon,
never relocated from her frantic changing into occupational attire at the opera
house. Feeling warm flesh against her
slippery skin made her shudder. At
once, she was alerted to all senses with painful extremity.
She smelled his
cologne, notably sweeter with his own perspiration, though it seemed he had
little reason to sweat. The breath at
her ear reflected the wine he consumed at the opera. Though his hand had retracted, once the spare firearm was
claimed, her skin prickled with friction.
He said nothing, still, but she could distinctly hear his amusement, his
excitement.
They remained
immobile for a few only seconds, and the tenderness she expected to receive was
not granted. Instead, the .45 pressed
now to her spine was twisted furiously from her, and she found herself
unarmed.
Once vulnerable,
Dr. Lecter seemed content. In one
motion, he spun her to face him. For
the second time that evening, she felt his eyes moving over her.
The impression
was brief. Starling had time to fight,
but the thought failed to occur to her.
She was next aware of Dr. Lecter's wrist grasping hers, and she was
dragged roughly to him, back now pressed to his chest. In a flash, something cold and metallic
rested at her abdomen, a hand coming to her mouth as he rolled them against the
wall.
"Well, well,
well…" he said finally, voice low and menacing. For the first time in the many years of their prolonged acquaintance,
Starling allowed herself to feel a shiver of fear. She hoped it was in vain.
"You do realize there are more conventional methods of obtaining my
attention, don't you, Special Agent Starling?
Tell me truthfully."
In response,
Starling squirmed in a futile attempt to break free, but stilled once again as
she Harpy at her belly pressed forward with the shadow of warning.
"Now, now," Dr.
Lecter scolded softly. "None of
that. I wouldn't want to be forced to
take extreme measures. I'm sure you can
agree. Now then, can I trust you not to
make a ruckus? There are some things
I'd like to know before we proceed. Nod
if you can."
A bolt of
hatred, genuine hatred, sped through her.
Starling wondered if she should attempt to bite at the hand covering her
mouth, but she decided the better of it.
Instead, she felt herself nod, best to her ability. There was an approving rumble against her
back, and she sensed the bottom drop on the tension. "Good girl."
Her mouth was
free again. A thousand things sprung to
mind, amidst the usual threats and what-have-you of law enforcement. However, she felt it best to remain silent
until he asked his questions. After
all, she was in no place to agitate him.
The hand that
retracted from her face repositioned across her chest, pulling her closer to
him still. She wondered briefly if he
was attempting slow suffocation.
"Not the most
conventional place for a reunion, I admit," Dr. Lecter offered casually, "but I
must concede to work with what I'm offered.
What do you think?"
"I think you
better let go of me before my reinforcements arrive."
"I was referring
to our location, but if you insist on getting down to business so quickly, I'll
oblige," Dr. Lecter retorted in an audible lack of interest. "Though I must admit I'm a little
offended. Is this what time has reduced
us to, Clarice?"
Starling
couldn't help herself. An involuntary
jolt provoked her body to struggle once more, but the hand that pulled her to
him was quick to still her movements.
Again, the blade pressed to her stomach, even through the garbs of
clothing.
"Now
really. I know you're smarter than
that," came the accusatory statement.
"I again ask you not to force me to something I don't want to do."
The warning,
ashamedly, refused to affect her. She
forced herself to regulate her breathing and calm. "Dr. Lecter, you're not one to go back on your word, so forgive
me if I don't take your threat seriously.
After all, you promised not to—"
"What I
promised, Special Agent Starling, was that I wouldn't call on you, though I can
hardly expect you to remember such an astute promise verbatim after a
decade. Either way…" Dr. Lecter jerked
her to him sharply, causing her heart to skip a beat with the realization of
his words. "I'd say I have remained
loyal to that. It's clear that *I* am
the one being called on, wouldn't you say?"
Fear climbed up
her spine once more, though she sensed he was bluffing. However, in this position, it was best not
to test him. She would rather oblige
and never know if he would live up to his threats.
"Clarice? Make an effort to answer, if you don't
mind."
"Sure. You're being called on. Whatever.
Let me go!"
"And spoil our
fun so soon?"
She struggled
lightly, not enough to amount to more than a scraped stomach. "Dr. Lecter, I'm not here to entertain you."
"I know. A real pity."
Before she could
counter with another retort, the sound of enclosing sirens broke through the
barriers of the reclusive warehouse walls.
A sense of terrific relief tingled through every pressure point. She felt Dr. Lecter still to perfection
against her, and wondered fleetingly what he was thinking, though she wasn't
sure she wanted to know.
When she spoke,
she didn't know why. It just seemed
like the thing to do. "I told you. Don't bother in running, Dr. Lecter. There's no way out."
"I assume you're
referring to the bullet hole you so thoughtfully provided my tire with."
"You ain't just
whistlin' Dixie."
There was an air
of disapproval, despite their rather hopeless position. "Really, Clarice, that's a horrible
saying. I expected more from you."
"You place faith
blindly, it appears."
When there was
no immediate reply, Starling felt herself tense.
Slowly, the arm
that secured her against him stirred, unhurriedly though the sirens neared
relentlessly. His hand snaked into her
jacket pocket, and she felt her stomach drop as he retrieved her handcuffs, the
same cuffs she had yearned to refrain from using. Starling let out a startled breath, though offered no words of
defiance. It was fruitless, she
knew. This man would do nothing he
didn't want to.
In his own time,
he took her wrists, wrenched her arms behind her, and subtly cuffed them
together. Once she was securely bound,
he reached again into her pocket, lingered for a minute, and withdrew once he
had the jingling keys.
Starling felt
like kicking herself. Even in the
darkness, he had seen where she stored her essentials, obviously anticipating
an encounter of this nature.
The sirens
neared, but were still far enough away to amount to good time. Tugging lightly on her cuffs, Dr. Lecter
stepped around, like a master leading a dog.
She found herself twisted awkwardly. Through the blackness of the room,
she could still see his torturous smile, and fought the temptation to spit in
his eye.
"Coming?" he
asked.
"Dr. Lecter…they
know what I'm driving. You won't get
far."
"We'll just have
to see, won't we? Now, Clarice, or do I
have to carry you?"
The insinuation
was neither a threat nor a promise, but she knew better than to doubt his
words. With the next tug, she
obligatorily stumbled backward. Dr.
Lecter avoided a second rumble of laughter, navigating through the halls as
though he had been born and raised here.
Outside, he
escorted her to the passenger side of the car, safely removing the luxury of
her bag and purse and placing them in the back seat.
He knew of the
third backup weapon.
Sliding into the
seat next to her, Dr. Lecter hummed the ignition to life and pulled away. A thousand angry statements were with her,
but she knew better than to utter any.
Knowing him, he heard them clearly, even if they were in her head.
After a few
minutes and a steadfast lead on her so-called reinforcements, Dr. Lecter tossed
her a glance, unsurprised to see her eyes focused intently on the flashing
scenery. He smiled. "Oh come now, Clarice, it's not as bad as
all that."
"Shut up! You can't do this!" Starling yelped in
reply, straining her position that was now making her shoulder muscles
ache. Realization had failed to seep
in, and she was still half-convinced this was a dream, that the opera and
attempted arrest was still ahead of her, and that she would awake any minute
now.
Reality wasn't
that simple. The car was tangible, as
was the lunatic driving.
"It appears I
can, and furthermore, that I have."
An aggravated
growl arose from the back of her throat, though it did little more than provoke
a chuckle from her captor. "I advise
you sleep," he suggested conversationally.
"It is quite a drive."
"And miss seeing
where you've been hiding for the past three months? I don't think so, buddy."
"Very well. Stay awake if you like."
The lack of
argument behind his voice confused her.
After all, unless he planned on tying her up, she would get to a phone,
or a computer, and send her plea for help.
A rescue squad would arrive in no time.
Perhaps he *did*
intend on tying her up. To show her
what it was like to have freedom taken away.
To show her what she was asking of him.
Somehow, she
doubted it. That seemed a bit trite,
especially for Dr. Lecter.
Nevertheless,
waiting out the ride proved ineffective.
Fatigue set in, but she refused to go down without battle. Starling grew
tired studying darkened scenery and averted her eyes to the clock on the
dashboard. It slowly ticked by an hour,
then another, and before she allowed herself to wait another duration, her eyes
closed.
And she was
asleep.
* * *
