They lay awake
for a while talking. The light in the
room dimmed, though Dr. Lecter made no attempt to ignite any candles. Unlike before, the darkness was comfortable,
almost compassionate.
Reality, or the
guise of reality, was nonexistent. Whether or not it was hidden in the darkness didn't matter, or really
change anything. Starling supposed it
wouldn't hit until she left this room, the comfort of his arms, anything that
suggested who she really was, who she was supposed to be.
Which reminded
her…
Slowly, Starling
sat up, untangling herself from his embrace and traveled across the room to
study her reflection in the mirror. Dr.
Lecter allowed this without complaint, regarding her curiously. Neither surprised nor alarmed when she
failed to see what she had tried to reclaim for herself, Starling released a conclusive
breath, straightening once more.
"I thought so…"
she whispered. The air chilled her bare
skin, and she quickly returned to bed, not caring to see – or not see – what
the mirror held any longer.
Starling nestled
luxuriously in the warmth of his arms, the thought of sleep tempting her. The soft caresses offered to her shoulder
seemed to trigger unexpected fatigue. Closing her eyes, she wondered how long this could last before she came
back to herself. Before she looked in
the mirror and again saw Special Agent Starling. Was an hour enough?
That thought
bothered her. Whatever this was, she
didn't want to leave it. Didn't want to
sacrifice it for what was presumably right. But something within her told her their time together was nearing an
end, and furthermore, that she caused it. Her breathing became subtle and quivered a bit, cold once more though
she was protected with blankets and his embrace.
"See something
interesting?" Dr. Lecter asked. With
her head at his chest, she smiled in the way his voice echoed against her
ear.
"I was looking
for an agent. I saw her there last
night, but figured she'd be gone by now," Starling answered tiredly. "Though I expect her back soon."
There was a
moment's pause. "Hmm…" he replied. "I wondered if she would make her way back
here. You're free to tell her to leave,
you know. Under recent circumstances, I
don't think it would be a sign of ill hospitality."
She expelled an
appreciative chuckle. "I'm sure you
wouldn't."
This time, he sighed,
giving her shoulder a squeeze. "Not
that simple, I know. I doubt I could
successfully exorcise those tedious loyalties and two-cent ethics from you in
three days' time."
"Ten years,
three months and three days to be exact…or something to that affect…"
He laughed, a
sincere, good laugh that made her feel warmer than was normal. Hell, what had she done today that had been
normal?
"Who's
counting?" he inquired.
"Not I."
"Thought not."
A minute or so
passed before she spoke again, drifting on the boundaries of sleep. "Dr. Lecter?"
That provoked
another chortle. "Dr. Lecter? That's terribly formal, wouldn't you say?"
Coaxed slightly
from her weariness, Starling smiled to herself. "One would assume."
"Hmm…" The
strokes at her shoulder resumed, softer now, as though compelled to coincide
with the mood. "It will be ending,
then, and we will be back to formalities. Tell me, Clarice…when do you expect them?"
Starling froze,
likewise did the pressure at her skin. With a quivering breath, she lifted her head to gaze at him. In his eyes, she reflected the same intent
stare he issued her so many years ago. It nearly made her shudder, seeing this person she had known so long,
gazing at her the same way after the afternoon they shared.
It was also
admirable. She knew, simply by looking
at him, that no matter how their relationship changed, he would remain the
same. Such could not be said for other
men, those shallow and unworthy of her attention. Whether he was reclined on a heap of top-quality pillows, or in
the dungeon of a cryptic Baltimore asylum, Dr. Lecter would always be the
same. There was nothing neither she nor
anyone alive could do to change that.
Still, his words
hung in the air, born free and reeking of recognition, of knowledge. Of course he knew. She was foolish to assume anything could be wheedled passed
him.
She was foolish
for other reasons, too.
"I don't know if
they're coming or not," she answered with a defeated sigh, knowing it was
useless to deny anything. It was coming
back to her, now. The feeling of being
read, no matter how she tried to elude him. Ugly realism. Ugly life. Ugly knowledge. She considered apologizing for her efforts, but knew somewhere
that it was already forgiven. His
failure to mention it until now, when they were both steadily aware of the
ticking clock, served as evidence.
She looked away,
amidst her shame, but knowing not where it was directed.
Studying her for
a minute, Dr. Lecter sat up, reaching for her face. Once he had a suitable grip on her chin, he forced her to eye
contact. "Do you want them here,
Clarice? Do you want to be rescued from
me? Your dangerous captor? What of the world that lies at your
feet? Back to tedious paperwork and
dictation? You said already that you're
planning to resign. I know you better
than that. It's easy to say things, to
make promises with the intention of keeping them. At home, though, when you're surrounded with familiarity, do you
feasibly see yourself handing over your badge and gun? You know they'll just send you after me
again, should I get away."
His words hurt
and stank of truth. Did she really see
herself strong enough to turn over her life and start anew, even with what had
occurred here? And she knew he was
right. They *would* just send her after
him again. If she couldn't do it
before, there was no way she would even come close now. Not after everything that had passed.
But that wasn't
his question. He wanted to know if she
wanted them here, those claiming to be her colleagues, only to drag her away
and attempt to put him behind bars, or better yet, kill him altogether.
The answer, of
course, was no. Not when this gave her
such peace.
Peace. Hah. Oxymoron.
"Well…" she
started to say. "I couldn't really hand
over my guns, could I? You took them
from me."
A small smile
was her immediate reply. "That I did,"
he answered a second later. "But that
doesn't answer my question. Tell me,
Clarice. Do you want them here? Do you want to be taken from me now?" The hold on her chin relinquished, as it was
no longer needed. Their gaze held.
And admit I like
this? I don't think so, buddy.
Damn her
loyalty! After everything that morning
gave her, the revelations she made within herself, Starling felt still incapable
of vocalizing her release, her pleasure. The dead agent within her stirred.
No remorse,
still. She wondered if she would ever
feel guilt for her treacherous actions, for her unwillingness to fight
him. Escaping her fate that morning
would have been easy had she wanted to. But Starling realized she was no more capable of fighting him than she
was shooting him. If there was ever a
time she could, it was gone now. Gone,
and out of her reach forever.
"You told me at
the lake house that the only thing I needed to be reminded of my courage and
incorruptibility was a mirror," she said after a minute, bluntly ignoring the
question again. No matter. This held his curiosity. "You were right for a while. Too right." Starling expelled a small sigh. "Not anymore. I am without
courage, and it's obvious I've been corrupted." She looked away, as though defeated.
The response she
received made her gasp in surprise. Abruptly, Dr. Lecter seized her shoulders and gave her one single
shake. "Look at me," he demanded, and
she did, feeling boneless and incapable of any other motion. "You are never without your courage,
Clarice. You have embraced the unknown,
what is beyond your expectations; stepped away from that predictable escapade
you call your life. Life is not
supposed to be predictable. You deserve
more, far more than what they offer. More, even, than what I can give. I never want to hear you say you're without courage again. You're a warrior, first, foremost, and
always. With or without the
Bureau." The look in his eyes suggested
fire, his tone on the brink of anger.
Slowly, as
though afraid of the consequences her audacity might purchase, Starling reached
for his face, running the tips of her fingers over his lips. When the touch was tolerated, she leaned
forward to replace it with her mouth. The hold on her arms fell, as though deactivated by the sensation. Instead, he engulfed her, pulling her to him
tightly. As his lips left hers to
explore the rest of her, to taste her as though for the first time, she rested
her head in the crook of his neck, not wanting to rise above a whisper, lest he
pull away. "No…no, I don't want them
here."
His response was
eager, the grip around her tightening. The feel of his lips on the back of her neck, shoulder, anywhere he
could access without pulling her from him was sensational.
Never! She didn't care what reality awaited her
outside. If necessary, she would bolt
the door shut. It wasn't worth losing
this. Feeling found after so many years
of wandering in her displacement.
There was a
reluctant pause when Dr. Lecter pulled away. His eyes were alight, signifying his need for a reprise. All he need was ask. However, he instead used his grip on her to
lower her to the mattress. The implication
was not intimate, though it did make her shudder with the thought of his
consideration.
The subtle
caresses she had enjoyed while reclining on his chest returned, now at her
face. Dr. Lecter was on his side,
propped on one arm, studying her. "Rest
now, Clarice. You are due your sleep."
"Will you sleep,
too?"
"No." He smiled slightly, leaning forward to brush
a kiss beside her eye. "I fear waking
not to find you here. Should I be
dreaming, I prefer to prolong it to the best of my ability."
The words sent
something through her that she could not identify. His eyes reflected his honesty, an aspect of him she knew she
would always have. After a minute,
Starling smiled. "If you're dreaming,
then I must be, too."
"Are you saying
I've haunted your nightly scenarios, Agent Starling?" Hint of play was on his voice, though his eyes betrayed nothing.
Starling smiled
sadly, wanting to give him the answer he wanted. But in truth, never before being here had she considered him in
this way, never had she allowed it. Most people would claim one had no direction over their dreams, but she
made damn sure that he stayed out of hers. Though she thought of him often, it was more nightmares of the hellish
outcome from the lake house. "Haunted
is closer to the mark than you want to be," she replied.
A frown. "I'm sorry about that."
"Don't be. I'm not. Not anymore."
The frown
dissolved on cue, replaced again with a grim smile. A knowing smile. In the
hallway, the ticking of the clock persisted.
Is this goodbye?
She
wondered. It sure feels like it.
"Sleep,
Clarice."
But Starling
didn't want to sleep. She wanted to
savor these moments. If they were their
last, she certainly didn't want to sleep through them.
However,
physical need overflowed her minds objective. And as Dr. Lecter wavered a hand over her face to encourage her eyes to
shut, she felt herself drifting toward the infinite, and off to sleep.
* * *
Starling awoke
to a delicate pat on her shoulder. It
wasn't a prolonged wakening. Within two
seconds, she was alert and ready, needing no time for recollection. Sitting up, she didn't think to clutch the
sheets to her, a lack of modesty and the need for it recognized.
Dr.
Lecter would not encourage her rest only to disrupt it for no reason. Though her sleep was peaceful, Starling did
not mourn being drawn from it.
"What is it?"
she asked.
"I must be
leaving, Clarice," he replied simplistically. Running her eyes over him, she felt something fall within her as she
noted his completely dressed form, the whimsical, single suitcase in hand. Though she knew it was not by choice,
something relative to abandonment filled her. He drew in a breath and continued. "Hear it? The sound of an
approaching chopper? Your heroes are
slightly tardy on their white stallions, but they do love to make an entrance."
She heard
nothing, but did not question him. There was still a while to go before her five senses perfected to his
astute level.
"Why aren't I
going with you? You did promise me Rome,
you know."
She hoped that
would make him smile in recollection, but instead it provoked a sigh. An eerie feeling settled over her. This wave of newfound seriousness was
constrictive, familiar, and she didn't like it. "There are several reasons. Look in the mirror again before they arrive. I trust you'll see your agent friend, back, as we said
before. If I'm right, then it's best to
give you this time away from my influence to decide what you really want. I don't want you to grow to resent me, my little
Starling. This time together will
fulfill me, should you decide to return to what you know. Otherwise…" Dr. Lecter reached into his coat
pocket and retrieved a relatively thin envelope. "This contains directions, indications, and what-have-you. If you decide against this, I ask you burn
it, if only out of courtesy. I trust
you; it's them I worry about.
"Secondly, I
could not take you with me, even if it was my intention. They will be combing the country for us,
parading the airports, and generally make a big fuss over nothing. Getting away unaided does not concern
me. Having you tag along complicates
the matter. There is no feasible way we
could escape together." He sighed
again. "I advise you wash the sheets,
and chain yourself to something, show some exhibit of imprisonment. Your guns and handcuffs are downstairs in a
nook of my personal library, behind Dante's Inferno. Your car keys are there as well."
Starling
blinked. "How are you going to—"
"I do have
another vehicle, Clarice. Rather large
and obnoxious, but it will serve in diverging attention." Dr. Lecter stood in silence for a minute,
head poised as though listening for something. "Ah. Not wasting a minute…" he
said, more to himself. Looking back to
her, he offered a small smile. "Don't
forget what I said. Not just now. If ever in doubt, rely on your courage and
refer to your incorruptibility. Remember how it feels, the flavor that runs in your mouth. Should you face yourself as an agent and
walk away, then you'll know to come for me." Slowly, he knelt to kiss her, though the taste was brief. "Regret nothing…" he said as he pulled
away. "Here, we were outside of time
and reality, everything that held us to their tedious morality. I take that with me. Even if you decline to pursue, I hope apart
of you carries it, too."
Then, as
masterfully as anything she had ever seen, though the initial movement was
brief, Starling watched as Dr. Lecter moved hastily from her side, turning to
the doorway and placing a top-hat over his head. It almost provoked a laugh, seeing him the epitome of the
stereotypical 1950s sitcom. Still, even
on the brink of uncharacteristic, it made him appear no less refined. The definition of good taste.
"Goodbye,
Clarice." He closed the door.
Something
significant left with him. It was apart
of her. Starling stared at the blank
frame for a few cold minutes, the envelope in her grasp rubbing tightly against
her fingers. She fought the urge to lay
back and again allow sleep claim her, to drift away from this perverse twist of
her life.
What was there
now?
Sighing, she
forced herself to her feet and glanced to the mirror. Did she really want to see herself now? She had to. Not bothering
in prolonged, over-dramatic steps, Starling paraded to her reflection and gazed
inside.
Another sigh
coursed her lips as she turned again to the closed frame. Standing upright, she nodded her
recognition.
"Goodbye,
Hannibal," she whispered.
* * *