2
Clarice Starling was jarred out of a trance by Ardelia shouting out the time, as she'd been doing every fifteen minutes for two hours. Just to make sure that her friend didn't lose track of the time, and her concern in that area just proved to be well founded. For the past fifteen minutes Clarice had been staring distantly at her reflection in the full-length mirror, and now that she'd resumed blinking she went back to that careful examination.
She was wearing a blue dress, that Mapp had forced her into borrowing. Knee length, soft silky fabric, spaghetti straps. It really was a nice dress, and fit her better than she expected. Now, the only question was whether or not she looked like she was trying too hard.
"'Delia," she said uncertainly as she walked back into living room, smoothing the cool fabric down over her stomach. "I don't think..."
Ardelia didn't even give her a chance to finish that sentence. "Damn, you do look good. You can borrow some high heels, of course. I still can't believe you don't own a single fancy dress. Now hurry, Starling, he'll be here in fifteen minutes."
Well, so much for that, Clarice thought as she went and claimed the offered pair of shoes out of her friend's closet, and tried to concentrate on calming the butterflies in her stomach. After seeing Dr. Smythe for a week, you'd think I wouldn't be so damn uncomfortable.
It seemed like only seconds after she finished trapping her red hair into a French twist that the doorbell rang, and she heard Greg's voice in the living room. She took a deep breath, smoothed her dress again, and went out to greet him.
**********
The restaurant was small, but sophisticated, and the noise from the surrounding tables was soft enough to allow for light conversation. The table that they had was off in the corner, with just enough shadows to make it more of an intimate setting.
Somewhere in the back of her mind Clarice noted that they'd both chosen one of the few dishes that didn't contain garlic. Then she nearly started laughing at herself, as she realized just how deeply paranoia had rooted itself in her mind.
"So, Greg, how was work today?" the agent asked, after swallowing a bite of her salad.
Gregory just gave her a wry grin, and a shrug. "It was how it always is. I had one interesting surgery. A man had a small tumor in his pre-frontal lobe, which we had to go in and remove."
The good doctor standing, with his scalpel indicating a section of Paul's brain... the seat of good manners... Agent Krendler chewing with obvious pleasure.
"Are you okay, Clare?'
Clarice gave a firm shake of her head to clear those images, and managed a smile for her date. "Fine, Greg. Just got lost in my thoughts for a minute there. What were you saying?"
"I was just asking how your day went?"
"Fine. Just... fine."
**********
After she pushed that momentary flashback out of her mind, the evening passed in a pleasant blur. Salads, dinner, and even a piece of cheesecake that they shared between them passed with laughter and conversation, and again Starling found herself feeling happy. A rare thing, since her disgrace in the FBI, and the days of drudgery that followed.
The car ride home was taken slowly, but they arrived at Ardelia and Clarice's home far too soon. Clarice, somehow, didn't want the evening to end... she had the unsettling feeling that it would never be the same after this night. She knew, really, that she was being ridiculous, that premonitions didn't exist. But, for the first time, she was the one to reach out for a kiss, wanting to make the night last just a little longer.
It worked, actually, and it was another hour before she was wandering into the house and Gregory's taillights were vanishing into the fog that had settled on the street. It had been a perfect evening, and she was still smiling when she walked into her room. There, laying on her pillow, was a bouquet of roses.
"Greg," she murmured to herself, and sat on the bed to bury her face in them. She noticed, once she was close enough to smell them, that they weren't all roses in fact. A dozen red ones, each alike in their beauty, but in the middle of the cluster of flowers was a perfectly formed lily.
"Oh Greg," she whispered again, plucking out that spot of white to hold against her cheek. He was a very intellectual man, Dr. Smythe was. There was probably some meaning to the beautiful lily, but there was no note. She'd just have to ask him the next time they went out together.
Once her lovely flowers were put into water, she changed into an over sized T-shirt for the night, and lay down with the decision to savor each moment of the night. The dinner, the conversation... the kisses. The kisses were, perhaps, the best part - she'd been without romance for so long, having given up her life to her career.
She pulled her blankets up to her chin, ready to drift off to sleep while remembering Greg's lips.
But just before sleep overtook her, it was another kiss that captured her thoughts, a kiss unlike any other. The words that he said, just before kissing her, echoed in her sleep.
That's my girl.
**********
Barney disliked this man immediately. After having spent so many years looking after the loonies, he also fancied himself a fairly good judge of character - and this fellow's character was significantly lacking in any redeeming features.
"What do you want with Clarice Starling?" Barney asked in his usual gently gruff way, as he busied himself making coffee for his unexpected 'guest'.
The stranger has his hands crossed neatly atop his crossed legs, and was wearing an expression of the utmost calm. Patronizing calm, as though dealing with someone of a 'lower' class. "Well, Mr..."
"Just Barney is fine."
"Barney. Well, Barney, we have reason to be concerned about Agent Starling's safety. As I'm sure you know, Mr. Lecter..."
Barney interrupted at that, correcting this odd fellow with "Dr. Lecter. Doctor."
"As you wish. Dr. Lecter, though his competence as a doctor is obviously in question. Dr. Lecter escaped about eleven years ago from the facility in which you were taking care of him, and for ten of those years he stayed quiet, living in Florence. Last year he resurfaced for the sole purpose of stalking Agent Starling. We, of course, are concerned about her safety from this murderer."
There was silence for several moments, in which Barney prepared the coffee, and set two mugs down on the low table in front of his couch, within easy reach of both he, and the stranger. Then he spoke.
"I don't think you need to be worried on Agent Starling's behalf, sir. The doctor has had opportunities to kill her before. She's been perfectly polite to him, and he has no reason to risk his freedom just to attack her." There was a brief pause while he considered the face of the fellow sitting across from him. "And she strikes me as the type that can take care of herself against the likes of him."
The laugh that the man gave just cemented Barney's opinion of him. Smarmy, to the lowest degree. "You're just how you were described to me. Yes, well, we still must cover all the bases. We would like to catch Dr. Lecter, and your help in that matter would be greatly appreciated."
"If I think of anything that might help you, I'll be sure and let you know."
"You do that. Here's my card, call the number on the back. It's my cell phone, and you'll be sure to get hold of me. Thank you for your -valuable- time, Mr. Barney."
*********
Clarice was woken in the morning by someone knocking, quite insistently, on the front door. A glance at the clock showed it to be about eleven o'clock in the morning, and she determined from that that she really had no right to get testy with whoever it was for waking her up, seeing as she'd slept in to such an abnormal hour.
"Coming," she shouted, as she hopped her way into the nearest pair of jeans, so she could answer the door looking like a somewhat normal person.
It turned out to be Greg. Lovely Greg, with a bundle of bright red carnations in one hand, her mail in the other, and a dashingly handsome smile on his face. "Thought I'd stop by and see you on my lunch break," he said, holding out both his offerings.
Clarice took the mail first, looked like mostly bills and some sort of package, and put it on the handy table beside the door. The flowers she took, and went in search of a vase to keep them fresh.
"This is really too much, Greg," she said as she placed the carnations on the opposite side of the room from the bouquet of roses. If he kept this up for long her living room would look like a bower... and, while that wasn't really her style, she wasn't minding this. Not one bit. Pleasant, to be pampered in a way that she never had been before.
Dr. Smythe just chuckled as he came in behind her, and gave her a quick kiss on the back of her neck. "Nothing's too good for you, Clare. I have to dash though, I have somewhere else I have to be. But I had a minute... and you were on my mind. Happy Fourth of July, darling."
They shared a brief good-bye kiss, before he was off again.
It wasn't a pleasant reminder that the Fourth had arrived. A year, then, to this very day... but no, she shouldn't dwell on such things. "At least it turned out to be a pleasant awakening," the agent muttered to herself, as she went to grab the mail beside the door.
There wasn't anything too interesting, really. Bill, bill, bill... Happy Fourth of July from your dentist card. Then the package. She opened this without much of a look at the label, expecting it would be the books she'd ordered awhile back, on-line. It only took a second to slit the tape with her pocket-knife, and take off the top layer of foam. A bit odd, padding books with foam...
It took a minute to process what she was seeing. Beneath the foam a letter sat atop a layer of pellets. The letter was addressed simply 'Clarice', in a handwriting she knew as well as her own, so often had she studied every detail of it.
Her calm as she set the box aside to go get a few tools was unnerving. She had expected to be in more of an upset if ever she should hear from him again, but once the copperplate had been recognized... her business frame of mind took over again. She donned a pair of gloves to preserve any fingerprints that may be on the package or its contents, and found a pair of tweezers. Then back to the box, to find out what the good doctor wanted now.
As she slit the envelope and began to unfold the letter within, she realized her hands were shaking. She bit down on her lip rather viciously, to still herself, and lowered her eyes to the letter.
My dearest Clarice,
A year has passed, as I'm sure you're fully aware, since our last meeting at the late Agent Krendler's house. I felt that such a notable date ought not go unrecognized as so many important things occurred that night, far more important than Agent Krendler's passing. Enclosed in this package are a few gifts that I thought may please you, Clarice. I had them made especially for you, not an easy thing when so many now know my face. It is an inconvenience, but never fear, Clarice, I am always as cautious as I can be without sinking back into retirement. Happy Fourth of July, Clarice, and happy Anniversary.
I hope you liked the roses.
Ta-ta,
Hannibal Lecter, M.D.
P.S. As an after-thought I've enclosed two things that made me think of you. The pressed flower is White Periwinkle, the needles are from a Cedar of Lebanon.
H.L.
Clarice looked at the two dried plants that had tumbled into her hand, realized the roses she so loved and had discovered in her room were, in fact, from the good doctor... and realized, at the same time, that she could scarcely breathe.
It seemed like it was starting all over again.
**********
Author's Note: I just wanted to thank Aello, clevergirl, Nanci, and vampinslo for reviewing! Also, in case for some reason it wasn't clear, I'm now putting angle brackets around Clarice's thoughts/memories. Just to makes things easier. Yeah. Thank you!
Clarice Starling was jarred out of a trance by Ardelia shouting out the time, as she'd been doing every fifteen minutes for two hours. Just to make sure that her friend didn't lose track of the time, and her concern in that area just proved to be well founded. For the past fifteen minutes Clarice had been staring distantly at her reflection in the full-length mirror, and now that she'd resumed blinking she went back to that careful examination.
She was wearing a blue dress, that Mapp had forced her into borrowing. Knee length, soft silky fabric, spaghetti straps. It really was a nice dress, and fit her better than she expected. Now, the only question was whether or not she looked like she was trying too hard.
"'Delia," she said uncertainly as she walked back into living room, smoothing the cool fabric down over her stomach. "I don't think..."
Ardelia didn't even give her a chance to finish that sentence. "Damn, you do look good. You can borrow some high heels, of course. I still can't believe you don't own a single fancy dress. Now hurry, Starling, he'll be here in fifteen minutes."
Well, so much for that, Clarice thought as she went and claimed the offered pair of shoes out of her friend's closet, and tried to concentrate on calming the butterflies in her stomach. After seeing Dr. Smythe for a week, you'd think I wouldn't be so damn uncomfortable.
It seemed like only seconds after she finished trapping her red hair into a French twist that the doorbell rang, and she heard Greg's voice in the living room. She took a deep breath, smoothed her dress again, and went out to greet him.
**********
The restaurant was small, but sophisticated, and the noise from the surrounding tables was soft enough to allow for light conversation. The table that they had was off in the corner, with just enough shadows to make it more of an intimate setting.
Somewhere in the back of her mind Clarice noted that they'd both chosen one of the few dishes that didn't contain garlic. Then she nearly started laughing at herself, as she realized just how deeply paranoia had rooted itself in her mind.
"So, Greg, how was work today?" the agent asked, after swallowing a bite of her salad.
Gregory just gave her a wry grin, and a shrug. "It was how it always is. I had one interesting surgery. A man had a small tumor in his pre-frontal lobe, which we had to go in and remove."
The good doctor standing, with his scalpel indicating a section of Paul's brain... the seat of good manners... Agent Krendler chewing with obvious pleasure.
"Are you okay, Clare?'
Clarice gave a firm shake of her head to clear those images, and managed a smile for her date. "Fine, Greg. Just got lost in my thoughts for a minute there. What were you saying?"
"I was just asking how your day went?"
"Fine. Just... fine."
**********
After she pushed that momentary flashback out of her mind, the evening passed in a pleasant blur. Salads, dinner, and even a piece of cheesecake that they shared between them passed with laughter and conversation, and again Starling found herself feeling happy. A rare thing, since her disgrace in the FBI, and the days of drudgery that followed.
The car ride home was taken slowly, but they arrived at Ardelia and Clarice's home far too soon. Clarice, somehow, didn't want the evening to end... she had the unsettling feeling that it would never be the same after this night. She knew, really, that she was being ridiculous, that premonitions didn't exist. But, for the first time, she was the one to reach out for a kiss, wanting to make the night last just a little longer.
It worked, actually, and it was another hour before she was wandering into the house and Gregory's taillights were vanishing into the fog that had settled on the street. It had been a perfect evening, and she was still smiling when she walked into her room. There, laying on her pillow, was a bouquet of roses.
"Greg," she murmured to herself, and sat on the bed to bury her face in them. She noticed, once she was close enough to smell them, that they weren't all roses in fact. A dozen red ones, each alike in their beauty, but in the middle of the cluster of flowers was a perfectly formed lily.
"Oh Greg," she whispered again, plucking out that spot of white to hold against her cheek. He was a very intellectual man, Dr. Smythe was. There was probably some meaning to the beautiful lily, but there was no note. She'd just have to ask him the next time they went out together.
Once her lovely flowers were put into water, she changed into an over sized T-shirt for the night, and lay down with the decision to savor each moment of the night. The dinner, the conversation... the kisses. The kisses were, perhaps, the best part - she'd been without romance for so long, having given up her life to her career.
She pulled her blankets up to her chin, ready to drift off to sleep while remembering Greg's lips.
But just before sleep overtook her, it was another kiss that captured her thoughts, a kiss unlike any other. The words that he said, just before kissing her, echoed in her sleep.
That's my girl.
**********
Barney disliked this man immediately. After having spent so many years looking after the loonies, he also fancied himself a fairly good judge of character - and this fellow's character was significantly lacking in any redeeming features.
"What do you want with Clarice Starling?" Barney asked in his usual gently gruff way, as he busied himself making coffee for his unexpected 'guest'.
The stranger has his hands crossed neatly atop his crossed legs, and was wearing an expression of the utmost calm. Patronizing calm, as though dealing with someone of a 'lower' class. "Well, Mr..."
"Just Barney is fine."
"Barney. Well, Barney, we have reason to be concerned about Agent Starling's safety. As I'm sure you know, Mr. Lecter..."
Barney interrupted at that, correcting this odd fellow with "Dr. Lecter. Doctor."
"As you wish. Dr. Lecter, though his competence as a doctor is obviously in question. Dr. Lecter escaped about eleven years ago from the facility in which you were taking care of him, and for ten of those years he stayed quiet, living in Florence. Last year he resurfaced for the sole purpose of stalking Agent Starling. We, of course, are concerned about her safety from this murderer."
There was silence for several moments, in which Barney prepared the coffee, and set two mugs down on the low table in front of his couch, within easy reach of both he, and the stranger. Then he spoke.
"I don't think you need to be worried on Agent Starling's behalf, sir. The doctor has had opportunities to kill her before. She's been perfectly polite to him, and he has no reason to risk his freedom just to attack her." There was a brief pause while he considered the face of the fellow sitting across from him. "And she strikes me as the type that can take care of herself against the likes of him."
The laugh that the man gave just cemented Barney's opinion of him. Smarmy, to the lowest degree. "You're just how you were described to me. Yes, well, we still must cover all the bases. We would like to catch Dr. Lecter, and your help in that matter would be greatly appreciated."
"If I think of anything that might help you, I'll be sure and let you know."
"You do that. Here's my card, call the number on the back. It's my cell phone, and you'll be sure to get hold of me. Thank you for your -valuable- time, Mr. Barney."
*********
Clarice was woken in the morning by someone knocking, quite insistently, on the front door. A glance at the clock showed it to be about eleven o'clock in the morning, and she determined from that that she really had no right to get testy with whoever it was for waking her up, seeing as she'd slept in to such an abnormal hour.
"Coming," she shouted, as she hopped her way into the nearest pair of jeans, so she could answer the door looking like a somewhat normal person.
It turned out to be Greg. Lovely Greg, with a bundle of bright red carnations in one hand, her mail in the other, and a dashingly handsome smile on his face. "Thought I'd stop by and see you on my lunch break," he said, holding out both his offerings.
Clarice took the mail first, looked like mostly bills and some sort of package, and put it on the handy table beside the door. The flowers she took, and went in search of a vase to keep them fresh.
"This is really too much, Greg," she said as she placed the carnations on the opposite side of the room from the bouquet of roses. If he kept this up for long her living room would look like a bower... and, while that wasn't really her style, she wasn't minding this. Not one bit. Pleasant, to be pampered in a way that she never had been before.
Dr. Smythe just chuckled as he came in behind her, and gave her a quick kiss on the back of her neck. "Nothing's too good for you, Clare. I have to dash though, I have somewhere else I have to be. But I had a minute... and you were on my mind. Happy Fourth of July, darling."
They shared a brief good-bye kiss, before he was off again.
It wasn't a pleasant reminder that the Fourth had arrived. A year, then, to this very day... but no, she shouldn't dwell on such things. "At least it turned out to be a pleasant awakening," the agent muttered to herself, as she went to grab the mail beside the door.
There wasn't anything too interesting, really. Bill, bill, bill... Happy Fourth of July from your dentist card. Then the package. She opened this without much of a look at the label, expecting it would be the books she'd ordered awhile back, on-line. It only took a second to slit the tape with her pocket-knife, and take off the top layer of foam. A bit odd, padding books with foam...
It took a minute to process what she was seeing. Beneath the foam a letter sat atop a layer of pellets. The letter was addressed simply 'Clarice', in a handwriting she knew as well as her own, so often had she studied every detail of it.
Her calm as she set the box aside to go get a few tools was unnerving. She had expected to be in more of an upset if ever she should hear from him again, but once the copperplate had been recognized... her business frame of mind took over again. She donned a pair of gloves to preserve any fingerprints that may be on the package or its contents, and found a pair of tweezers. Then back to the box, to find out what the good doctor wanted now.
As she slit the envelope and began to unfold the letter within, she realized her hands were shaking. She bit down on her lip rather viciously, to still herself, and lowered her eyes to the letter.
My dearest Clarice,
A year has passed, as I'm sure you're fully aware, since our last meeting at the late Agent Krendler's house. I felt that such a notable date ought not go unrecognized as so many important things occurred that night, far more important than Agent Krendler's passing. Enclosed in this package are a few gifts that I thought may please you, Clarice. I had them made especially for you, not an easy thing when so many now know my face. It is an inconvenience, but never fear, Clarice, I am always as cautious as I can be without sinking back into retirement. Happy Fourth of July, Clarice, and happy Anniversary.
I hope you liked the roses.
Ta-ta,
Hannibal Lecter, M.D.
P.S. As an after-thought I've enclosed two things that made me think of you. The pressed flower is White Periwinkle, the needles are from a Cedar of Lebanon.
H.L.
Clarice looked at the two dried plants that had tumbled into her hand, realized the roses she so loved and had discovered in her room were, in fact, from the good doctor... and realized, at the same time, that she could scarcely breathe.
It seemed like it was starting all over again.
**********
Author's Note: I just wanted to thank Aello, clevergirl, Nanci, and vampinslo for reviewing! Also, in case for some reason it wasn't clear, I'm now putting angle brackets around Clarice's thoughts/memories. Just to makes things easier. Yeah. Thank you!
