So the question was.what did she do now?
It seemed rather obvious at first. Starling's natural and primary instinct was to send in her letter of resignation, for she knew that even if she couldn't find Dr. Lecter and make her amends - random as they might seem, considering her feelings on this matter as of yesterday afternoon differed drastically - that the specter of Brigham had delivered the most valuable information. There was no way she could remain with the FBI. Not after that.
However, of all the realizations birthed in the prior evening's adventures, her impending leave really was old news, and otherwise unremarkable. Sometime in the duration of her prolonged career, Starling had arrived at the notion that after Chesapeake, she would need to begin job hunting.
But never, while knowing somewhere in her deeper though feverishly denied subconscious had she suspected that the reason of her leaving would similarly coincide with her decision to turn to Dr. Lecter as a means of escape.
Naturally, after her planned letter of resignation was delivered, she would hop on the first flight out. But Starling, halfway dressed and ready to go, the thought of packing not in any sense of proximity, realized the flow of events couldn't possibly run that smoothly. After all, it was Christmas Day, and chances of booking a flight anywhere - especially a place as random as Buenos Aires, were remote. However, she likewise knew that she had to try, even if it was a shot in the dark.
Still not bothering to pack, she jumped in her car as soon as she had everything ready. Christmas Day traffic was light though it still annoyed her: the families bounding from location to location, polluting the streets with unnecessary action. If only they could agree on a singular place!
However, Special Agent Starling of the FBI managed her destination without much trouble. And once inside Quantico, she used her computer for the last time, inspecting the prospective situation on all possible flights in the area. She checked Washington, knowing that would be too fortunate, and wasn't surprised when it read back negative. Should fate have handed her a rose of that color, she wasn't sure she would have accepted in anyway. There was something about things being too easy that unnerved her. Starling knew every deal had a double-face, and from Brigham's delicate illustrating of God's will to play with her, she knew to watch her step.
There were no flights today anywhere, which irritated her still. Though Starling wanted to be careful, she also desperately wanted to arrive in time to celebrate Christmas with Dr. Lecter. It didn't occur to her that while she had seen the outside of his residence during her brief visitation with Jack Crawford that she had no way of feasibly knowing its exact location. The research alone, deciding when he would have arrived from July, if this was his first stop outside America, what name he would disguise himself under, would take weeks all in itself. Perhaps, in a straighter frame of mind, Starling would have taken this into consideration as the anecdote to her screaming nerves. However, a woman possessed, it hardly flickered to occurrence. All she knew was there were still weeks separating her from Dr. Lecter, and that thought nearly drove her out of her mind.
The situation on flights didn't hamper her desire to flee the city, though, and Starling made quick arrangements. On a piece of notebook paper, she hastily scribbled:
P:
I quit.
Starling
Though it left open the window to many questions at her seemingly spontaneous leave, the thought that she wouldn't be here to deal with them excited her. It was the best Christmas present she had ever received. Total freedom from all prior links and chains and cuffs and.well.everything. Utter and complete liberation; a breath of fresh air.
Knowing that the option of leaving this afternoon was entirely trivial, Starling felt she could pace herself and take things down a notch. Through the Internet, she discovered there was a flight for Buenos Aires scheduled for the following week in a town approximately fifty miles from here. She decided to take her things and leave, rent out a hotel and wait out the time. However, before that, she would stop at Ardelia's for Christmas dinner, as her friend thoughtfully invited her the day before. Merely the knowledge that she could dine with them without feeling that pang of loss made her rush with excitement.
The number of shops open on Christmas day was few, but Starling was grateful to find a couple of Grinch's who refused to settle for the holiday. She bought her friend a pair of earrings and her daughter a teddy bear. Starling didn't know Ardelia's husband too well, but she figured a coffee mug quaintly adorned with 'World's Greatest Dad' would suffice.
While she didn't feel comfortable dropping in unannounced on Christmas Day, she didn't know how she would phrase her change of heart over the phone. Therefore, after a hasty two-second wrapping job, Starling set off for her friend's house, knowing it was for the last time.
All worries were pushed aside as she arrived. The look on Ardelia's face as she opened the door was at once shocked and ecstatic. Baffled, she let out a squeal of glee and they tightly embraced, careful of her friend's round belly, and she was excitedly hurried in.
"You made it!" Ardelia cried. "You have no idea how worried I've been about you! Damn, girl, you sounded like you were about to do something drastic yesterday. Come hither the Ghost of Christmas Depression!" She smiled warmly; unaware of the nerve she came close to striking. "What made you change your mind?"
Starling chuckled, handing Ardelia's wide-eyed daughter, who was shyly concealed by her mother's leg, her Christmas package. "Let's just say.I had an interesting evening."
"Don't tell me!" Ardelia's eyes closed and her index fingers went to massage her temples, imitating the look of a psychic. "You met some dashing, debonair man, flew to Vegas, got hitched, and found your Christmas spirit."
"'Delia, you're amazing."
"Well, get your tardy ass in here," her friend exclaimed, grabbing her arm. Pausing a minute, she turned to her daughter and said, "Mommy did not just say 'ass,' okay?" As the little tike ran off, giggling to undoubtedly tell on her mother's light profanity, Ardelia rolled her eyes and explained, "Mike's been getting on my case for having a 'potty mouth' around Ashley. He says I need to get it taken care of before the next one is born."
Offering a warm smile, Starling handed her the rest of the gifts and stepped in. "Ah, kids are kids. If she doesn't use them now, she'll use them sometime."
"Exactly!" Ardelia yelped. "What's the fuss about?"
Christmas breakfast was wonderful. They reminisced, told stories they'd told to countless others over and over, laughing as though it was the first time. Starling came to really like Ardelia's husband, a man she had previously not known. And Ashley, shy until complimented, continuously clung to her bear and offered a thousand thanks.
When it was over, Starling felt something relative to pain strike her. She would miss Ardelia, miss her completely. But, in retrospect, leaving this life meant leaving everything that came with it, and what she hoped awaited her on the other side of the fence promised to be much greener in general shade, and hopeful in scenery.
Then came the goodbyes. While Ardelia didn't know and never could the actions her friend was about to take, she seemed to have a sixth sense about her that knew this was the end. At the doorway, they hugged tightly, whispered their goodbyes, and parted, neither dry-eyed.
"You come back now," her friend called after her as she was halfway to her car. "I've missed you, Starling."
"You, too, 'Delia."
When she pulled out of Ardelia's driveway, Starling wiped away the rest of the tears. Instead of pointing her vehicle home, she steered it out of town for the last time. Goodbyes said, closure obtained, she was fleeing this self-constructed prison, wasted years in pining after something she couldn't have without severe personal loss. There was no going back.
* * *
While her flight was not until the following week, Starling felt the need to make all arrangements far in advance. Thus, once arriving at her destination several hours after leaving Washington, she had settled into a cheap motel, dropped off her things, and retreated to the airport to reserve her seat on the first available flight out.
It was only then that she began having her doubts, her fears. Once she arrived, what then? How did she even begin looking for him? While she was no longer an agent - or wouldn't be, once Pearsall read her abrupt though final note of resignation - she could put to use her remaining connections before her disappearance was reported.
But, Starling decided not to worry about that now. After all, there was little she could do here. Once she arrived, she could worry all she liked. Right now, all that mattered was that she had escaped and that she wasn't going back, regardless whether she found Dr. Lecter, and even then, if he still wanted her.
An image of Brigham, wandering around in the shadows of an imminent afterlife struck her, and she knew that this was simply a chance she had to take, no matter the cost. At least, in the end, she could never say she didn't try.
Arrangements made, Starling turned to leave the airport and enjoy the rest of the most eventful Christmas with perhaps a movie, should she find an open theatre. She noted the darkened sky with a grim smile. Twenty-four hours prior, she would never have imagined herself here, making this gigantic, perhaps suicidal leap. Now, she didn't know if she could see it any other way.
Even if there weren't a movie theatre open, perhaps there would be a coffee shop run by a nice Jewish family somewhere. Anything to settle down to was fine with her.
Turning to leave, Starling's eyes caught a crowd of people arriving from an incoming flight. Though this was nothing particularly unusual about airports - hardly a novelty - she stopped to watch them, wondering if she resembled the face of anyone who would travel on holiday, amongst the other noted non-religious types. Those Crawford had mentioned the night before in his rampage on why no one cares about the Christmas spirit.
The crowd was unsurprisingly small, most slinging arms over each other's shoulders and wishing belated though equally Merry Christmases. Starling smiled to herself and turned to leave, but something.impossible caught her eye. Time froze for her, and found herself trapped in the next instant. Her heart stopped beating, her pulse (in direct counterpoint) started racing. All over, she felt herself clam up before breaking into unavoidable tremors.
How was this possible?
Judging by the look on his face, Dr. Lecter was similarly stunned that she should be here, in this airport of all places, just in time to greet him on his flight. Their eyes locked and held as the people around them passed, and finally when all fell silent again, he approached.
Starling's knees trembled and her breath quivered. Having him here before her was quite different than knowing she was going to him. She had suspected she would have a week to compose her thoughts and feelings and everything she planned to say, and while this did not exactly upset anything, the prospect of being tongue-tied in front of this man was very uncomfortable.
When they were only separated by two feet of air, Dr. Lecter finally stopped, eyes studying her suspiciously. They conversed wordlessly for a minute, allowing her subconscious time to collect her thoughts before spilling them once more.
"I hardly expected a welcoming committee," he said finally, forgoing the need for a formal greeting. "Pardon me for being overly forward, but, what are you doing here, Clarice?"
It felt weird to hear her name uttered, her first name. She didn't believe anyone had since she saw him last.
One way or another, she found her voice, and without any forethought, felt herself blurt out the only thing that was natural to her. The truth. "I left to book a flight to Buenos Aires. This was the nearest airport.with a flight next week."
"Buenos Aires?" He arched a brow. "What on earth were you hoping to find there?"
"I knew you were there." That sentence left her fluidly, so easily that she had to pace herself. If she wasn't careful, she would find herself explaining the image of Jack Crawford in a hula skirt.
Though her statement notably surprised him, he evidently decided not to comment. Instead, he stepped back, eyebrows perking once more. "Coming to make an arrest, Clarice?"
"No. I was coming to see you."
"And you were so sure I was in Buenos Aires? Hmmm." Dr. Lecter appeared to lose himself in thought, though finally allowed her to see some reserved amusement. "I see my wiles are clearly no match for your own, Clarice. I was sure that I had exercised the extremity in caution since our last parting."
"What are you doing here, Dr. Lecter?"
Her directness surprised them both, but similarly offered some pleasure. She knew he wasn't accustomed to being blatantly demanded of something, and her audacity succeeded in surprising herself. However, she really wanted to know. Wanted that assurance that she wasn't dreaming, that he was standing there before her, even if it made positively no sense. What, in the past twenty-four hours, had?
"Isn't it obvious, Clarice?" he charged back. "Though I admit it is a bit out of my way, I do enjoy going to some lengths for last-minute Christmas shopping."
"Shopping for whom?" Starling's pulse was level again, and the love of the spar flustered within her.
Oh God, don't let me wake if I'm dreaming.
It didn't occur to her until after the question was asked that she might not like the answer. Similarly, the thought that followed soothed her momentarily agonized soul. She had seen the inside of his dwelling last night, with comically dressed Crawford, and knew from that that he was alone.
"For whom do you think?" Dr. Lecter retorted. "I suppose I should send Cordell a token of my esteem, hmmm? Perhaps something for Barney. Incidentally, Clarice, I hope you had a happy birthday. I would have sent you something, but under recent conditions."
His distracted explanations were getting on her nerves, and with a rush of impatience, she rolled her eyes and snapped, "Why are you here, Dr. Lecter? And *how* are you here? I checked the airlines-"
"Surely you didn't investigate the incoming flights?" he returned with a small smile. "As inconvenient as it might seem, they do not constantly coincide with those passing."
Grumblingly, she turned her eyes to the ground and conceded. "Yeah, yeah."
"Now, Clarice, would you indulge me in a question?"
"I'm sure you have plenty."
"Indeed." Though there wasn't anything terribly provocative latched onto his voice, it did coax her to look up. There, trapped in his gaze, she felt her nerves pulsing around her. The inquiries he had all came with answers, but whether he would believe them or not was an entirely separate matter. Her own reasoning sounded ridiculous to her, but she knew through a series of coincidences that her prior night's experience was authentic, and that alone persuaded her to continue.
"How did you know I was in Buenos Aires?" was the first question.
"If I tell you, you'll never believe me."
The smile he offered was kind and challenging, the twinkle in his eyes warm and familiar. "Try me," he dared.
Okay, Starling. Suck it up. At least *you* know you're being honest.
"Jack Crawford." There. It was out. Released. The identity of her mysterious benefactor, one of three reasons she was spontaneously making a world-trek to see a man she should rightfully be trying to arrest. It was crazy and unbelievable.
However, it was the truth. The only truth she had at the minute. Anything else was null and void. He would know if she lied to him.
A blink. "Pardon?"
"Mr. Crawford. He and." This sounded so utterly outlandish to her own ears, and having lived it personally the night before, she knew it was true. Dr. Lecter, on the other hand.she sucked it up and forced herself to continue, ".and a few others.well.I trust you're acquainted with 'A Christmas Carol'?"
"Yes. As well as several other noted works by dear Mr. Dickens." His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What are you trying to say, Clarice? Perhaps if you blurt it out quickly, the effect will be relative to one of speedily removing a Band-Aid."
Their eyes held for a few minutes as Starling constructed and tore apart sentences that would make her explanation a little more believable, but she knew how it was destined to sound, no matter how she worded it. "You're going to think I've lost it," she warned him, gaze breaking from his, darting in every which direction.
"My dear, as far as the levels of one's sanity, I doubt my esteem in that genre is anything you need to concern yourself with," he observed, once more persuading her to look at him. And she knew then that he spoke the truth. After all, how many had deemed him insane? When did one line end and another begin?
Back to consensus barriers. Would they always be on separate levels? She hoped not.
"Evelda Drumgo, Paul Krendler, Jack Crawford, and John Brigham all.appeared to me last night." There. It was out. No going back.
Predictably, her eyes couldn't hold his and dropped once more. The worst was over.
"In a dream, do you mean?"
"No. I mean really.appeared." Starling closed her eyes, held them there, and looked at him directly when she was ready. "It sounds crazy. It probably is crazy. But I saw things.past, present.all that. That's how I knew where you were. Mr. Crawford was showing me the present, and-"
"Do you mean to say you personally lived out 'A Christmas Carol'?" Dr. Lecter asked skeptically. His eyes, however, remained kind. Unlike anyone she knew, he maintained admiration and respect, and had not yet consigned her to the stature of 'weirdo.'
"Sounds wild, doesn't it?"
"I've heard many things, Clarice, and while that does indeed sound." He tilted his head in thought. "*Out* there.it's hardly what I would classify as crazy. You've gone through a lot in the past few months. I suppose it is safe to conjure up a dream of that nature on the very night it is supposed to occur, and-"
Furiously, she shook her head. "No! That's just it! It wasn't a dream. I couldn't have implemented in my subconscious that you were in Buenos Aires. Mr. Crawford showed me. And John.he told me things that were real.*had* to be real. If it were a dream, I would've shaken it off. But it convinced me to find you, and not for the FBI. Brigham stressed that to death. They persuaded me."
Predictably, Dr. Lecter's eyebrows rose again. "Jack Crawford would encourage you to find me, and not for purposes of professional gain?"
"Mr. Crawford said that death enlightens you. Liberates you. Something about not liking green olives in life, but loving them now. He used that as an example. He said he wanted me to do what makes me happy, because I'm unhappy." She sighed, focused more now on making him believe her story than caring how crazy it sounded. "And Krendler showed me the past. Our past. Pretty damn near every significant meeting we've had. And Brigham.showed me the future."
Whether or not he believed her, Dr. Lecter did appear interested in what the future held in store. "Oh really? What did you see?"
Just the thought of the horrible things she saw nearly brought tears to her eyes. How that could have been her future, how this conversation could have been much worse, how her choices might have differed had any specter other than John Brigham led her down that path, with or without knowledge of what lay ahead.
"I saw myself.I had everything I wanted in the FBI."
"Well, that should make you happy," Dr. Lecter observed, earning a sharp glare from her in the next instant. "Should, but obviously doesn't, or else it wouldn't sting so much to admit. May I ask at what price?"
"Your life."
"Hmmm." His gaze darkened for a minute, though not menacingly. "That would put a damper on things."
Starling swallowed and nodded her agreement. "Yeah.Brigham said when I went back I had two choices. Find you to turn you in, 'cause Mr. Crawford told me where you were. Or."
"Or?"
The words were with her, there on the tip of her tongue. One utterance and all might be over. However, pride held her back. She didn't know if she could deal with rejection, to put her feelings out there before them with the risk of him laughing it aside. While it seemed his feelings weren't so ambiguous, she simply couldn't stand being dismissed as a schoolgirl crush.
So, she did the only thing that came natural. "Quid pro quo."
Another look of surprise. She could get used to this. "Clarice?"
"Why are *you* here? And the truth would be appreciated this time."
A few seconds of silent stares, and now, she didn't falter. At last he smiled, and she knew, even without the words that followed, that everything would be all right.
"You never cease to amaze me," he commented, shaking his head. "I'm here, slightly late, I'll admit, to spend the holiday season with the one closest to me. At least, my objective was to try." Each word was like a drop of sweet wine, relief and more than relief spreading through her. She couldn't help the smile that stretched from ear to ear, nor could she stop from taking a step toward him. "I'll concede," he continued a beat later, "I had not thought I would be quite so gratified with your disposition. I thought it would be progress if you didn't slam the door in my face and rush immediately to the phone to contact your saviors."
"Then you believe me?"
"Ah, it's your turn, Clarice. Quid pro quo, as you so eloquently put it." Dr. Lecter chuckled a bit at her frustration before coyly titling his head. "Why else would you come to Buenos Aires, if not to arrest me?"
Starling sighed and finally broke their eye contact, fighting for words. Even now that she had her blessed assurance, making such an admittance still struck her as difficult.
It was difficult for both of them, she knew, and it was her turn now.
"Because Brigham appeared to me as so awful, so dark and deformed. He said it was because he never tried, because he died with regrets, and that the same would happen to me if I didn't get over myself and." She looked back to him and exhaled. "And find you, for the right reason."
"And what, pray, is the right reason, Agent Starling?"
"The reason that makes me the worst agent in the Bureau's history?"
"Hmmm.I believe that trophy was already rewarded to Paul Krendler."
She smiled. So this was it. From his eyes, she knew her explanation was all he expected, and furthermore, that she couldn't be questioned. The truth was out and couldn't be taken back.
"So.what now?" she asked.
"Now? I believe we still have a few hours to celebrate the holiday," Dr. Lecter observed, briefly referring to his wristwatch. "How fortunate that you were here to welcome me back to America. Odd, but fortunate. I admit I was taken aback for a minute, though this has proven quite beneficial." He smiled, offering his arm. "Shall we?"
Once they were joined at the arms, Starling knew she had done the right thing, that everything would be all right from now on, and that while she would miss Ardelia, there was nothing in the old life to hold her there. The man beside her rumbled his agreement, and she said a silent thank-you to the specters of yesterday, bidding them all a discreet though intensely satisfied farewell.
As they left, conversation resumed naturally, the sort of dialogue all strive for in life. Constant sparring, someone of equal intellect to battle with, agree with, laugh with. It was as though they knew that it would come to this, sooner or later.
"So, these spirits that visited you," Dr. Lecter said as they walked out. "Did any of them apologize for the appalling lack of originality they exhibited in their blatant plagiarism from a nineteenth century novelist?"
"I told Drumgo that she was at risk for copyright infringement."
However long this conversation lasted did not matter. There would always be a topic to debate, an issue to question, something to make fun of, and decisions to make. Starling knew, similarly, that there would be hard times. This did not frighten her, for she knew in the end, it was all worth it.
And so she faced the world, wiser, arm linked with the man she loved, prepared to live.
It seemed rather obvious at first. Starling's natural and primary instinct was to send in her letter of resignation, for she knew that even if she couldn't find Dr. Lecter and make her amends - random as they might seem, considering her feelings on this matter as of yesterday afternoon differed drastically - that the specter of Brigham had delivered the most valuable information. There was no way she could remain with the FBI. Not after that.
However, of all the realizations birthed in the prior evening's adventures, her impending leave really was old news, and otherwise unremarkable. Sometime in the duration of her prolonged career, Starling had arrived at the notion that after Chesapeake, she would need to begin job hunting.
But never, while knowing somewhere in her deeper though feverishly denied subconscious had she suspected that the reason of her leaving would similarly coincide with her decision to turn to Dr. Lecter as a means of escape.
Naturally, after her planned letter of resignation was delivered, she would hop on the first flight out. But Starling, halfway dressed and ready to go, the thought of packing not in any sense of proximity, realized the flow of events couldn't possibly run that smoothly. After all, it was Christmas Day, and chances of booking a flight anywhere - especially a place as random as Buenos Aires, were remote. However, she likewise knew that she had to try, even if it was a shot in the dark.
Still not bothering to pack, she jumped in her car as soon as she had everything ready. Christmas Day traffic was light though it still annoyed her: the families bounding from location to location, polluting the streets with unnecessary action. If only they could agree on a singular place!
However, Special Agent Starling of the FBI managed her destination without much trouble. And once inside Quantico, she used her computer for the last time, inspecting the prospective situation on all possible flights in the area. She checked Washington, knowing that would be too fortunate, and wasn't surprised when it read back negative. Should fate have handed her a rose of that color, she wasn't sure she would have accepted in anyway. There was something about things being too easy that unnerved her. Starling knew every deal had a double-face, and from Brigham's delicate illustrating of God's will to play with her, she knew to watch her step.
There were no flights today anywhere, which irritated her still. Though Starling wanted to be careful, she also desperately wanted to arrive in time to celebrate Christmas with Dr. Lecter. It didn't occur to her that while she had seen the outside of his residence during her brief visitation with Jack Crawford that she had no way of feasibly knowing its exact location. The research alone, deciding when he would have arrived from July, if this was his first stop outside America, what name he would disguise himself under, would take weeks all in itself. Perhaps, in a straighter frame of mind, Starling would have taken this into consideration as the anecdote to her screaming nerves. However, a woman possessed, it hardly flickered to occurrence. All she knew was there were still weeks separating her from Dr. Lecter, and that thought nearly drove her out of her mind.
The situation on flights didn't hamper her desire to flee the city, though, and Starling made quick arrangements. On a piece of notebook paper, she hastily scribbled:
P:
I quit.
Starling
Though it left open the window to many questions at her seemingly spontaneous leave, the thought that she wouldn't be here to deal with them excited her. It was the best Christmas present she had ever received. Total freedom from all prior links and chains and cuffs and.well.everything. Utter and complete liberation; a breath of fresh air.
Knowing that the option of leaving this afternoon was entirely trivial, Starling felt she could pace herself and take things down a notch. Through the Internet, she discovered there was a flight for Buenos Aires scheduled for the following week in a town approximately fifty miles from here. She decided to take her things and leave, rent out a hotel and wait out the time. However, before that, she would stop at Ardelia's for Christmas dinner, as her friend thoughtfully invited her the day before. Merely the knowledge that she could dine with them without feeling that pang of loss made her rush with excitement.
The number of shops open on Christmas day was few, but Starling was grateful to find a couple of Grinch's who refused to settle for the holiday. She bought her friend a pair of earrings and her daughter a teddy bear. Starling didn't know Ardelia's husband too well, but she figured a coffee mug quaintly adorned with 'World's Greatest Dad' would suffice.
While she didn't feel comfortable dropping in unannounced on Christmas Day, she didn't know how she would phrase her change of heart over the phone. Therefore, after a hasty two-second wrapping job, Starling set off for her friend's house, knowing it was for the last time.
All worries were pushed aside as she arrived. The look on Ardelia's face as she opened the door was at once shocked and ecstatic. Baffled, she let out a squeal of glee and they tightly embraced, careful of her friend's round belly, and she was excitedly hurried in.
"You made it!" Ardelia cried. "You have no idea how worried I've been about you! Damn, girl, you sounded like you were about to do something drastic yesterday. Come hither the Ghost of Christmas Depression!" She smiled warmly; unaware of the nerve she came close to striking. "What made you change your mind?"
Starling chuckled, handing Ardelia's wide-eyed daughter, who was shyly concealed by her mother's leg, her Christmas package. "Let's just say.I had an interesting evening."
"Don't tell me!" Ardelia's eyes closed and her index fingers went to massage her temples, imitating the look of a psychic. "You met some dashing, debonair man, flew to Vegas, got hitched, and found your Christmas spirit."
"'Delia, you're amazing."
"Well, get your tardy ass in here," her friend exclaimed, grabbing her arm. Pausing a minute, she turned to her daughter and said, "Mommy did not just say 'ass,' okay?" As the little tike ran off, giggling to undoubtedly tell on her mother's light profanity, Ardelia rolled her eyes and explained, "Mike's been getting on my case for having a 'potty mouth' around Ashley. He says I need to get it taken care of before the next one is born."
Offering a warm smile, Starling handed her the rest of the gifts and stepped in. "Ah, kids are kids. If she doesn't use them now, she'll use them sometime."
"Exactly!" Ardelia yelped. "What's the fuss about?"
Christmas breakfast was wonderful. They reminisced, told stories they'd told to countless others over and over, laughing as though it was the first time. Starling came to really like Ardelia's husband, a man she had previously not known. And Ashley, shy until complimented, continuously clung to her bear and offered a thousand thanks.
When it was over, Starling felt something relative to pain strike her. She would miss Ardelia, miss her completely. But, in retrospect, leaving this life meant leaving everything that came with it, and what she hoped awaited her on the other side of the fence promised to be much greener in general shade, and hopeful in scenery.
Then came the goodbyes. While Ardelia didn't know and never could the actions her friend was about to take, she seemed to have a sixth sense about her that knew this was the end. At the doorway, they hugged tightly, whispered their goodbyes, and parted, neither dry-eyed.
"You come back now," her friend called after her as she was halfway to her car. "I've missed you, Starling."
"You, too, 'Delia."
When she pulled out of Ardelia's driveway, Starling wiped away the rest of the tears. Instead of pointing her vehicle home, she steered it out of town for the last time. Goodbyes said, closure obtained, she was fleeing this self-constructed prison, wasted years in pining after something she couldn't have without severe personal loss. There was no going back.
* * *
While her flight was not until the following week, Starling felt the need to make all arrangements far in advance. Thus, once arriving at her destination several hours after leaving Washington, she had settled into a cheap motel, dropped off her things, and retreated to the airport to reserve her seat on the first available flight out.
It was only then that she began having her doubts, her fears. Once she arrived, what then? How did she even begin looking for him? While she was no longer an agent - or wouldn't be, once Pearsall read her abrupt though final note of resignation - she could put to use her remaining connections before her disappearance was reported.
But, Starling decided not to worry about that now. After all, there was little she could do here. Once she arrived, she could worry all she liked. Right now, all that mattered was that she had escaped and that she wasn't going back, regardless whether she found Dr. Lecter, and even then, if he still wanted her.
An image of Brigham, wandering around in the shadows of an imminent afterlife struck her, and she knew that this was simply a chance she had to take, no matter the cost. At least, in the end, she could never say she didn't try.
Arrangements made, Starling turned to leave the airport and enjoy the rest of the most eventful Christmas with perhaps a movie, should she find an open theatre. She noted the darkened sky with a grim smile. Twenty-four hours prior, she would never have imagined herself here, making this gigantic, perhaps suicidal leap. Now, she didn't know if she could see it any other way.
Even if there weren't a movie theatre open, perhaps there would be a coffee shop run by a nice Jewish family somewhere. Anything to settle down to was fine with her.
Turning to leave, Starling's eyes caught a crowd of people arriving from an incoming flight. Though this was nothing particularly unusual about airports - hardly a novelty - she stopped to watch them, wondering if she resembled the face of anyone who would travel on holiday, amongst the other noted non-religious types. Those Crawford had mentioned the night before in his rampage on why no one cares about the Christmas spirit.
The crowd was unsurprisingly small, most slinging arms over each other's shoulders and wishing belated though equally Merry Christmases. Starling smiled to herself and turned to leave, but something.impossible caught her eye. Time froze for her, and found herself trapped in the next instant. Her heart stopped beating, her pulse (in direct counterpoint) started racing. All over, she felt herself clam up before breaking into unavoidable tremors.
How was this possible?
Judging by the look on his face, Dr. Lecter was similarly stunned that she should be here, in this airport of all places, just in time to greet him on his flight. Their eyes locked and held as the people around them passed, and finally when all fell silent again, he approached.
Starling's knees trembled and her breath quivered. Having him here before her was quite different than knowing she was going to him. She had suspected she would have a week to compose her thoughts and feelings and everything she planned to say, and while this did not exactly upset anything, the prospect of being tongue-tied in front of this man was very uncomfortable.
When they were only separated by two feet of air, Dr. Lecter finally stopped, eyes studying her suspiciously. They conversed wordlessly for a minute, allowing her subconscious time to collect her thoughts before spilling them once more.
"I hardly expected a welcoming committee," he said finally, forgoing the need for a formal greeting. "Pardon me for being overly forward, but, what are you doing here, Clarice?"
It felt weird to hear her name uttered, her first name. She didn't believe anyone had since she saw him last.
One way or another, she found her voice, and without any forethought, felt herself blurt out the only thing that was natural to her. The truth. "I left to book a flight to Buenos Aires. This was the nearest airport.with a flight next week."
"Buenos Aires?" He arched a brow. "What on earth were you hoping to find there?"
"I knew you were there." That sentence left her fluidly, so easily that she had to pace herself. If she wasn't careful, she would find herself explaining the image of Jack Crawford in a hula skirt.
Though her statement notably surprised him, he evidently decided not to comment. Instead, he stepped back, eyebrows perking once more. "Coming to make an arrest, Clarice?"
"No. I was coming to see you."
"And you were so sure I was in Buenos Aires? Hmmm." Dr. Lecter appeared to lose himself in thought, though finally allowed her to see some reserved amusement. "I see my wiles are clearly no match for your own, Clarice. I was sure that I had exercised the extremity in caution since our last parting."
"What are you doing here, Dr. Lecter?"
Her directness surprised them both, but similarly offered some pleasure. She knew he wasn't accustomed to being blatantly demanded of something, and her audacity succeeded in surprising herself. However, she really wanted to know. Wanted that assurance that she wasn't dreaming, that he was standing there before her, even if it made positively no sense. What, in the past twenty-four hours, had?
"Isn't it obvious, Clarice?" he charged back. "Though I admit it is a bit out of my way, I do enjoy going to some lengths for last-minute Christmas shopping."
"Shopping for whom?" Starling's pulse was level again, and the love of the spar flustered within her.
Oh God, don't let me wake if I'm dreaming.
It didn't occur to her until after the question was asked that she might not like the answer. Similarly, the thought that followed soothed her momentarily agonized soul. She had seen the inside of his dwelling last night, with comically dressed Crawford, and knew from that that he was alone.
"For whom do you think?" Dr. Lecter retorted. "I suppose I should send Cordell a token of my esteem, hmmm? Perhaps something for Barney. Incidentally, Clarice, I hope you had a happy birthday. I would have sent you something, but under recent conditions."
His distracted explanations were getting on her nerves, and with a rush of impatience, she rolled her eyes and snapped, "Why are you here, Dr. Lecter? And *how* are you here? I checked the airlines-"
"Surely you didn't investigate the incoming flights?" he returned with a small smile. "As inconvenient as it might seem, they do not constantly coincide with those passing."
Grumblingly, she turned her eyes to the ground and conceded. "Yeah, yeah."
"Now, Clarice, would you indulge me in a question?"
"I'm sure you have plenty."
"Indeed." Though there wasn't anything terribly provocative latched onto his voice, it did coax her to look up. There, trapped in his gaze, she felt her nerves pulsing around her. The inquiries he had all came with answers, but whether he would believe them or not was an entirely separate matter. Her own reasoning sounded ridiculous to her, but she knew through a series of coincidences that her prior night's experience was authentic, and that alone persuaded her to continue.
"How did you know I was in Buenos Aires?" was the first question.
"If I tell you, you'll never believe me."
The smile he offered was kind and challenging, the twinkle in his eyes warm and familiar. "Try me," he dared.
Okay, Starling. Suck it up. At least *you* know you're being honest.
"Jack Crawford." There. It was out. Released. The identity of her mysterious benefactor, one of three reasons she was spontaneously making a world-trek to see a man she should rightfully be trying to arrest. It was crazy and unbelievable.
However, it was the truth. The only truth she had at the minute. Anything else was null and void. He would know if she lied to him.
A blink. "Pardon?"
"Mr. Crawford. He and." This sounded so utterly outlandish to her own ears, and having lived it personally the night before, she knew it was true. Dr. Lecter, on the other hand.she sucked it up and forced herself to continue, ".and a few others.well.I trust you're acquainted with 'A Christmas Carol'?"
"Yes. As well as several other noted works by dear Mr. Dickens." His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What are you trying to say, Clarice? Perhaps if you blurt it out quickly, the effect will be relative to one of speedily removing a Band-Aid."
Their eyes held for a few minutes as Starling constructed and tore apart sentences that would make her explanation a little more believable, but she knew how it was destined to sound, no matter how she worded it. "You're going to think I've lost it," she warned him, gaze breaking from his, darting in every which direction.
"My dear, as far as the levels of one's sanity, I doubt my esteem in that genre is anything you need to concern yourself with," he observed, once more persuading her to look at him. And she knew then that he spoke the truth. After all, how many had deemed him insane? When did one line end and another begin?
Back to consensus barriers. Would they always be on separate levels? She hoped not.
"Evelda Drumgo, Paul Krendler, Jack Crawford, and John Brigham all.appeared to me last night." There. It was out. No going back.
Predictably, her eyes couldn't hold his and dropped once more. The worst was over.
"In a dream, do you mean?"
"No. I mean really.appeared." Starling closed her eyes, held them there, and looked at him directly when she was ready. "It sounds crazy. It probably is crazy. But I saw things.past, present.all that. That's how I knew where you were. Mr. Crawford was showing me the present, and-"
"Do you mean to say you personally lived out 'A Christmas Carol'?" Dr. Lecter asked skeptically. His eyes, however, remained kind. Unlike anyone she knew, he maintained admiration and respect, and had not yet consigned her to the stature of 'weirdo.'
"Sounds wild, doesn't it?"
"I've heard many things, Clarice, and while that does indeed sound." He tilted his head in thought. "*Out* there.it's hardly what I would classify as crazy. You've gone through a lot in the past few months. I suppose it is safe to conjure up a dream of that nature on the very night it is supposed to occur, and-"
Furiously, she shook her head. "No! That's just it! It wasn't a dream. I couldn't have implemented in my subconscious that you were in Buenos Aires. Mr. Crawford showed me. And John.he told me things that were real.*had* to be real. If it were a dream, I would've shaken it off. But it convinced me to find you, and not for the FBI. Brigham stressed that to death. They persuaded me."
Predictably, Dr. Lecter's eyebrows rose again. "Jack Crawford would encourage you to find me, and not for purposes of professional gain?"
"Mr. Crawford said that death enlightens you. Liberates you. Something about not liking green olives in life, but loving them now. He used that as an example. He said he wanted me to do what makes me happy, because I'm unhappy." She sighed, focused more now on making him believe her story than caring how crazy it sounded. "And Krendler showed me the past. Our past. Pretty damn near every significant meeting we've had. And Brigham.showed me the future."
Whether or not he believed her, Dr. Lecter did appear interested in what the future held in store. "Oh really? What did you see?"
Just the thought of the horrible things she saw nearly brought tears to her eyes. How that could have been her future, how this conversation could have been much worse, how her choices might have differed had any specter other than John Brigham led her down that path, with or without knowledge of what lay ahead.
"I saw myself.I had everything I wanted in the FBI."
"Well, that should make you happy," Dr. Lecter observed, earning a sharp glare from her in the next instant. "Should, but obviously doesn't, or else it wouldn't sting so much to admit. May I ask at what price?"
"Your life."
"Hmmm." His gaze darkened for a minute, though not menacingly. "That would put a damper on things."
Starling swallowed and nodded her agreement. "Yeah.Brigham said when I went back I had two choices. Find you to turn you in, 'cause Mr. Crawford told me where you were. Or."
"Or?"
The words were with her, there on the tip of her tongue. One utterance and all might be over. However, pride held her back. She didn't know if she could deal with rejection, to put her feelings out there before them with the risk of him laughing it aside. While it seemed his feelings weren't so ambiguous, she simply couldn't stand being dismissed as a schoolgirl crush.
So, she did the only thing that came natural. "Quid pro quo."
Another look of surprise. She could get used to this. "Clarice?"
"Why are *you* here? And the truth would be appreciated this time."
A few seconds of silent stares, and now, she didn't falter. At last he smiled, and she knew, even without the words that followed, that everything would be all right.
"You never cease to amaze me," he commented, shaking his head. "I'm here, slightly late, I'll admit, to spend the holiday season with the one closest to me. At least, my objective was to try." Each word was like a drop of sweet wine, relief and more than relief spreading through her. She couldn't help the smile that stretched from ear to ear, nor could she stop from taking a step toward him. "I'll concede," he continued a beat later, "I had not thought I would be quite so gratified with your disposition. I thought it would be progress if you didn't slam the door in my face and rush immediately to the phone to contact your saviors."
"Then you believe me?"
"Ah, it's your turn, Clarice. Quid pro quo, as you so eloquently put it." Dr. Lecter chuckled a bit at her frustration before coyly titling his head. "Why else would you come to Buenos Aires, if not to arrest me?"
Starling sighed and finally broke their eye contact, fighting for words. Even now that she had her blessed assurance, making such an admittance still struck her as difficult.
It was difficult for both of them, she knew, and it was her turn now.
"Because Brigham appeared to me as so awful, so dark and deformed. He said it was because he never tried, because he died with regrets, and that the same would happen to me if I didn't get over myself and." She looked back to him and exhaled. "And find you, for the right reason."
"And what, pray, is the right reason, Agent Starling?"
"The reason that makes me the worst agent in the Bureau's history?"
"Hmmm.I believe that trophy was already rewarded to Paul Krendler."
She smiled. So this was it. From his eyes, she knew her explanation was all he expected, and furthermore, that she couldn't be questioned. The truth was out and couldn't be taken back.
"So.what now?" she asked.
"Now? I believe we still have a few hours to celebrate the holiday," Dr. Lecter observed, briefly referring to his wristwatch. "How fortunate that you were here to welcome me back to America. Odd, but fortunate. I admit I was taken aback for a minute, though this has proven quite beneficial." He smiled, offering his arm. "Shall we?"
Once they were joined at the arms, Starling knew she had done the right thing, that everything would be all right from now on, and that while she would miss Ardelia, there was nothing in the old life to hold her there. The man beside her rumbled his agreement, and she said a silent thank-you to the specters of yesterday, bidding them all a discreet though intensely satisfied farewell.
As they left, conversation resumed naturally, the sort of dialogue all strive for in life. Constant sparring, someone of equal intellect to battle with, agree with, laugh with. It was as though they knew that it would come to this, sooner or later.
"So, these spirits that visited you," Dr. Lecter said as they walked out. "Did any of them apologize for the appalling lack of originality they exhibited in their blatant plagiarism from a nineteenth century novelist?"
"I told Drumgo that she was at risk for copyright infringement."
However long this conversation lasted did not matter. There would always be a topic to debate, an issue to question, something to make fun of, and decisions to make. Starling knew, similarly, that there would be hard times. This did not frighten her, for she knew in the end, it was all worth it.
And so she faced the world, wiser, arm linked with the man she loved, prepared to live.
