A/N: Last chapter. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed.
~~~
"Federal Agent, Clarice Starling, formerly listed as missing, has surfaced—"
"Reports confirm that Special Agent Starling has fled—"
"Former Agent Ardelia Mapp, now being held in—"
"Ten year veteran of the Bureau, Clarice Starling, has reportedly disappeared with lethal madman Han—"
Click.
The air fell to silence, and in response, Starling stirred a bit in her sleep. She was not a customarily sound sleeper when it came to automobiles, having adapted to coincide with pesky stakeouts and other occupational requirements. Though she had grown used to it over the years, her body never fully adjusted. Special precautions were instituted now that Pearsall was completely up to speed. Two hours before, they had abandoned the Toyota in the parking lot of a desolate office complex in some small, nameless town. Dr. Lecter had also switched license plates and insisted that she relinquish driving duty. There, they had continued speedily in the opposite direction. The trail they were leaving now would eventually lead their pursuers north. They had lost an hour, but would benefit in the long run.
("On the road again…")
Sleep seemed impossible, and she had nearly laughed when Dr. Lecter made the suggestion. However, Starling found herself beyond fatigued once her motor abilities were no longer required to function. Merely reclining, not asked to remain alert, seemed to take it out of her. She had found sleep in short, easy minutes.
That was not to say her slumber went undisturbed. Occasionally she felt the shine of headlights from oncoming cars, stirred at the gentle hum of the radio that now played in place of dialogue, or jerked to temporary consciousness when the car met with a bump on the road. To his credit, Dr. Lecter did his absolute best to proceed over the rough pavement with utmost care, but their hurry offered little room for such consideration.
Still, whenever she started to awake, she felt a calm, reassuring touch at her shoulder, encouraging her to rest. Coaxing her back to sleep.
When the radio at last snapped off, every available station preoccupied with reports on their getaway, Starling awoke and did not retract back to her slumber. Her eyes remained closed and she enjoyed a time of rest, simply listening to the car hum and the low, tempered breathing of the man who now assumed control of the wheel.
Her face tickled with a grin that she could not school. Without opening her eyes, she felt his gaze drift in her direction.
"Hmmm," Dr. Lecter murmured thoughtfully, coaxing her eyes open briefly. "Now that is a very telling smile, Clarice. I suspect you are not yet wrought with doubt?"
"Very funny." The response was second nature, as though the days of doubt were far behind her and not only cold a few hours. However, it was authentic, flexing in newfound liberty.
She knew he heard this when a smile tugged at his lips. "Your good spirits means the lambs did not scream, I assume?"
Starling stretched in response to his voice, fighting off a yawn. With a weary nod, she sat up properly, reaching to rub her eyes. "No screaming lambs."
"What about former employers?"
"Maybe one or two of those."
The doctor rumbled lightly in mirth. "Was the coverage bothering you?"
"No. I just worry about Ardelia." She sighed and leaned back, hands falling limply to her lap, head reclining a fraction. "After everything she did for me…for you, too."
He nodded his understanding but did not speak.
"She deserves better than that," Starling decided inconclusively.
"Would you prefer we go back, Clarice?"
"No." The reply came so quickly, so naturally that she recognized with propinquity the material of her loyalties. Even though the question was rhetorical, she had to chew a bit on her answer. It meant many things, and ironically, nothing pertaining to her friend. She did not doubt her love for Mapp, but times had changed. Simply thinking of retreating for any purpose made her shudder. However, she decided not to brew. Though she had no way of knowing how much they would penalize her friend for her part in this chaotic escapade, aiding and abetting didn't ride well with bureaucrats, especially if that felon was Dr. Hannibal Lecter.
"Where are we?" Starling asked, driving her thoughts away.
"We crossed into North Carolina not too long ago."
She nodded, stretching again with another yawn. The urge was upon her to succumb to sleep but she wanted to talk. Since her transcend to euphoria in speaking to Pearsall, she and Dr. Lecter had rested in considerable silence. It seemed time for more discussion.
"You're tired, aren't you?" she asked innocently.
"Don't fret, Clarice. We will be stopping soon," he assured her. "Go back to sleep, if you like."
"Are you suggesting I won't sleep when we stop?"
That coaxed his eyes to her briefly and they blazed in scrutiny. "Hmmm. Was that a subtle innuendo or should I refrain from taking the bait?"
"You tell me."
Dr. Lecter grinned but turned his gaze back to the road. "Sleep when you want to then," he suggested with deceptive nonchalance. Starling was the wiser, clearly seeing the dance of his devilish pupils as they remained intently focused ahead.
"Where will we stop?"
"Somewhere boorish, undoubtedly," he replied. "I really do detest chain motels, despite their convenience."
"I rather doubt you'll opt for a Super 8," Starling replied with a chuckle. "There's bound to be a Ho-Jo's somewhere."
"How very trite."
"Work with what you're given," she retorted with a simple shrug.
"Old sentiment?"
"Family motto."
"Ah." Smiling to himself, Dr. Lecter's head tilted a fraction, even as his eyes remained firmly transfixed on the road ahead. "How charming."
A few minutes of silence followed. Soft. Companionable. Starling drew in a few ragged breaths as her mind began to wander. The proximity of their imminent stop for the evening gave her interesting food for thought, despite her casual jesting.
The evening encompassed and cocooned.
When Dr. Lecter spoke again, it drew her away from some distant pivotal point. She fought the urge to stretch again as it only seemed to increase her fatigue.
"When you were speaking to Clint," he said, "you mentioned that I was one of the calamities that 'happened' to you." It wasn't a question, or a plea for reassurance, or even the lure for the antidote to a bruised ego. Rather, it was merely a recapitulation. A reminder of her own words. Starling held her breath and waited a minute for the inevitable why, but it never came.
"Yes," she agreed a confused beat later. He only nodded encouragement. "I didn't mean it negatively…I know it sounded that way."
"Apologies are not in order, Clarice. I suffered no injured esteem."
"Then why bring it up at all?"
"Curiosity. I want to know if our meeting was such a calamity."
Starling's eyes narrowed. "That's a loaded question."
"Whatever isn't, these days?"
She sighed emphatically, leaning back into the seat. "For who, Dr. Lecter? Me or you? For you, you got a hell of a bargain. A ticket out of—"
"That is irrelevant, Clarice."
"I know." Aggravation had climbed into her throat and she made no attempt to disguise it. "Are you asking if life would be easier for either one of us had we never met?"
"No. I know the answer to that," Dr. Lecter replied lowly.
"Then what?"
"I suppose I want to know if you would have rejected the assignment, knowing what you do now."
The first thing that came to her mind surprised her for the blatant honesty. Starling had always thought, in the grand scheme of things, that life would be generally simpler had she never met Dr. Lecter. So much anguish and torment could have been avoided. So much grief from her superiors, those who hurt her because they were frightened of her. Of her strength and her failure to break. At her ability to look such a monster and walk away, at her prudence in tolerating them and surviving. But sitting here beside him, in this car they had to borrow from some tired workaholic, know everything…
Knowing everything included knowing what she understood about corruption and bureaucrats and the FBI. What she could tell from the likes of good and evil, the evil within the good, and the morality within the condemned.
"No, Dr. Lecter," she replied firmly. "I wouldn't change it for anything."
By his face, she was allowed to read the intense pleasure her words bore, perhaps with additional curiosity, but he took his time to savor its taste on his own merit. It was an answer he hadn't anticipated, one she hadn't realized she was prepared for.
"Why?" he asked inexorably, once he had clamped down his own reaction.
"Because had I not known you, I would've remained a stupid, naïve trainee all my life. I wouldn't have seen what I saw," Starling answered with deceiving agility and ease. "Because knowing you has helped me to know me."
His eyes flickered significantly once more but he forced his response aside, barking out another question. "What about what I did to you, Clarice? Robbing you of your youth, flavoring you with cynicism and bitterness, ensuring your permanent stature with the Tattler and all media hounds, subjecting you too soon to this world of—"
"Corruption, Doctor? Let me choose my corruption."
"And what do you choose?"
"Isn't it obvious?"
That indistinct comment finally coaxed a wry look, flashing with impatience, followed by amusement. A taut smile spread athwart his lips. "Former Agent Starling, I believe you have adapted far too well."
"To what?"
"To being as wonderfully elusive as I am."
She snickered. "Well…if you can't take it, don't dish it out."
"Oh contraire," Dr. Lecter replied with enthusiasm, "I find it most appetizing. Please continue. Enchant me."
His words echoed with aching familiarity, his voice lowering to natural seduction. Starling was forced to pause and catch her breath, noting somewhat dryly that it was most likely his intention to throw her off balance. Battling with him when the stakes were this wonderfully inconsequential was so divergent to every other conversation they had held, when the tension built for the wrong reasons and she feared the approach of a slip-up that could cost her everything. And while she knew very well that those days were not over simply with this change of sides, there was some instinctive satisfaction. The promise that no matter what, things would work out right from now on.
It was most likely a foolish, romantic jest. Starling did not and would never believe in 'happy ever after.'
"Enchant you with what?" she sneered mockingly.
Though subtle, her eyes caught Dr. Lecter's right wrist at the wheel, straining with effort and impatience. Despite his repulse for repeating himself, or conceding anything with such ease, his own faint tension was the victor. "Choosing your corruption?" he growled through gritted teeth. "And what happened to you to bring you here."
"Like I said, Doctor. You happened. You can't reduce yourself to a set of influences. Neither can I."
"And your corruption?"
A sly retort coiled and froze on her tongue, her mouth suddenly aching with the remnants of his kiss, so painfully brief before Pearsall's untimely interruption. Subconsciously, her tongue darted out to taste her upper lip. "I think I'll stick to being elusive for now," she decided, releasing a quivering breath. "Give you more of a taste of your own medicine."
"How cruel!" Feigned disappointment masked satisfaction. Whatever he needed to know he knew, simply from her tone. Even still, she had no doubt that he would make her speak the rest before the night was over. "Clarice, you have become a very adept tormentor. Did it ever occur to you that your consistent battle with your chosen occupation could have been accredited to a conflict of interests?"
"I don't know whether to be flattered or insulted."
"I would never insult your character."
"What about that 'hustling rube' comment?"
Dr. Lecter grinned. "Please, Clarice, let's focus on the present. If we continuously travel through these oddly convenient wrinkles in time, we will never get anywhere." In spite of his words, she could tell he was pleased, encouraged, by her dexterity in holding something for so long.
"Why should I? You never do."
She contorted in private triumph when he succumbed to light chuckles. "I'll have to decide how my arrogance flavors you," he said thoughtfully. "Coated along with cynicism and that indeterminate corruption."
That lent her pause for consideration. Her brow furrowed in thought and she leaned back once more, gnawing absently on her lower lip. "I suppose you've grown tired of bitterness," she said. "You've seen a lot of that."
Dr. Lecter gave her a slow, meaningful look, not as long as he would like, given the road before him. Though she sensed an onslaught of reprimands were collecting on his tongue, the gaze alone was enough to assure her of her place, and scold her for suggesting otherwise.
However, when he started to speak, she was surprised to hear indifference and lack of lecture. It was a degree lighter. He had read her understanding. "Falsified acrimony does wear my patience, yes," he agreed slowly. "People founded in today's society have such tedious, menial problems that submerge into resentment much too prematurely. Granted, there are exceptions here and there, but very few." He glanced to her again, but briefly. "I know what you have seen, Clarice, and what you have willingly endured time and time again. Your animosity is long overdue, if anything."
"It's a bitch to be optimistic when you're a pessimist at heart," she sighed, leaning her head onto her right arm that perched against the door.
He chuckled lightly. "You do it so well."
"Glad you think so."
"Hmmm…" Dr. Lecter hummed. "Why?"
"Because yours is the only opinion that matters to me."
Again he smiled. Starling loved it when he smiled, unable to drink in enough. Unlike the exchanges of their past, with smiles ringing of smug superiority—or even the more recent past—covered in jaded sadness, the smiles she received now were merely kind and understanding. It was frightening on a level, to think a man as notoriously monstrous as he was could demonstrate both the good and the bad faithfully to either extreme, but she had long given up trying to be horrified. The truth was, there were no wholly moral or immoral people in the world. Sooner or later, everyone had to choose their corruption.
"It seems we're at a crossroads, Clarice," he decided a minute later.
"Meeting in the middle?"
"Something like that."
She smirked. "It's never something with you, Doctor."
"Why do you call me that?"
The question surprised her for the ostensible spontaneity, sounding almost hurt that they weren't beyond the formalities. Likewise, it made her frown in recognition. Her mind jumbled into muddied illogicalities. "I don't know," she replied after a minute. "I didn't know I was invited to call you anything else."
"Ah." With this he seemed satisfied and appeared to dismiss the matter entire. Confused, she straightened again and her frown creased in concentration. It only lasted a minute, however, and he started speaking as though the break had not occurred. "Ten years is a long time, Clarice."
"If you want me to call you by your first name, just say it." She hadn't meant to sound indignant, but made no attempt to retract. Apologizing for herself was a futile effort; she knew he liked her just the way she was, and preferred the taste of her raw and principle thoughts, sterilized without consideration or censors.
Indeed, his amusement seemed to amplify, eyes sparkling even as they remained steadfast on the road. Starling looked ahead as she waited for his reply, noting with some approaching excitement that the lights of the next town were now in sight. A small, inconspicuous place, hopefully equipped with a Howard Johnson's, lest they succumb to a selection of less breeding. "Yes," he admitted finally. "Use my given name from now on, if you will."
"I'll try to remember."
"Please do." He paused briefly to flash her a smile, this one mischievous, though still sincere. "Not that I don't approve of your courtesy, Clarice, especially after all these years."
"Too formal for you, eh?"
"I believe we are beyond the status of teacher and pupil."
"Thank God."
Dr. Lecter smirked and glanced to her concisely again. "Though that is not to say I am finished with all those superb delights that come with it."
"No! Of course not," she agreed, her tone half mocking and fond.
"Clarice?"
She took a breath, knowing it was a test, feeling awkward even if it was what he wanted. A decade-long habit was a tough one to break, not because of the implication as much as the routine. "Hannibal?" Once the name rolled off her tongue, her reservation vanished. It sounded natural to her. Adult—matured past the days of her schooling, past the Bureau. Grown-up. Fly fly fly, little Starling.
"Would you like to stop for the evening?"
"Stop what? The conversation or the vehicle?"
He grinned. "Either or both."
"Ho-Jo's?"
"Trite, but as you so dotingly quipped, 'work with what you're given.'"
Starling chuckled. "Can't let go of the family motto."
"Which family?"
"My mother's cousin. She had a million sayings."
Dr. Lecter considered as he pulled the car into the hotel parking lot. Ashville was a small town and it appeared that there were only a few guests. "Then it couldn't have been the family motto," he observed. "If—"
"Doc…Hannibal?"
"Yes?"
"Anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?"
At that, his brows arched significantly. "Oh? What would you prefer?"
The car had stopped, but she didn't notice; too preoccupied with piecing together a reply. When it proved a fruitless effort, especially recovering from her catnap, she merely shrugged and reached for the handle. "I think I'd need of an example of my alternatives." Starling opened the door and wiggled out of the seat, enjoying the feel of the night air against her skin, and stretched her legs that were tired from the long ride. "Coming?" she asked, peering in before slamming the door shut.
To himself, in the sudden vacant silence of the car, he muttered, "Wouldn't miss it for the world." Then, with reticent slowness, he opened the door and rose to his feet.
In the course of the years spent on various field assignments and stakeouts, Starling liked to think of herself as a connoisseur of the typical chain motel. She had seen them all, but usually yielded to those of shoddier reputation to coincide with saving money. Howard Johnson's was far from her ideal bread and breakfast, but it was a nice break. A variation.
All more besides, it wasn't as conspicuous as their other options. Starling suspected Pearsall would hit the more prestigious inns to concur with the doctor's tastes, and resort to the other extreme once the results came back negative. In her experience, the man never found a medium. It was one or the other.
The clerk at the front desk appeared tired and absent. Starling bit her lip and wondered for a minute if she should go back for her purse, but declined when she saw Dr. Lecter's eyes. He was smiling softly, as though reading her thoughts, before joining her at the front desk. It was strange and liberating—sharing enough with this man to have her domestic peculiarities met in conventional fashions, but keeping enough to herself and always have him guessing.
"How may I help you?" the clerk asked wearily, doing his best to be responsive and friendly.
"One room, please."
"Standard, deluxe, or suite?"
Acts of whimsy. Starling bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling, as she guessed his preference immediately. Despite their surroundings, Dr. Lecter would always find an out to satisfy his various penchants.
Suites were one hundred forty a night. The price made her brows perk, but it didn't seem to surprise or offend the doctor. That was something else to grow accustomed to. Financial security. She puffed out a breath and endured his gaze of amused scrutiny for a brief minute before redirecting his attention to the kid in front of them.
"Will you be needing a wake-up call?"
Dr. Lecter smiled thinly. "I don't believe so."
For Starling, time slowed, or sped up, or was lost altogether. On some level, she expected this period of relative serenity to be wracked with guilt or second thoughts, but she had spent years beating herself up over the very same issues. And, all things considered, there wasn't anything to regret. She had thought this through over and over again, always arriving at the same conclusion. There wasn't anywhere else she wanted to be, anyone else she wanted to be with. Her over-worked, fatigued conscience waited for the reprimand, but it never came.
In these early stages, she suspected such thoughts were normal. After all, it was only this morning that she awoke, certain that she was out of a job and facing time in the local correctional facility.
"It's been a long day," she muttered as Dr. Lecter opened the door to their room for her.
"Stressful?"
"To the max."
The door swung open, but she didn't look in. They stood in the hallway for a minute, companionable, as though this margin was the final threshold.
"Are you all right?"
It was a genuine inquiry for her well being, layered with whatever concern he would allow her to hear. Starling didn't know what she found more atypical—the constant affirmation that the beauty of the beast outweighed the monstrosity, or the idea that someone would actually ask how she was feeling and mean it. Either way, she drank it in, reveling in its taste.
She was acting as elusive as she sounded. That was the second time he had asked that tonight.
"I'm better than all right," Starling replied with confidence, glancing inward briefly, not really seeing and making no move to step inside. "Though I don't see what's wrong with this hotel. I see nothing trite."
Dr. Lecter smiled and emitted a long sigh, as though releasing his own subtle tension. "Give it time, Clarice," he said. "You simply don't know what you have been missing."
That lent her pause, not so much for the words as much as the implication. While Starling knew many of her tastes would elevate, she wanted to hang on to some of the old life, grasp that fundamental essence that had assisted her through ten years of hostility. Whether it be preferences in hotels, music, food, clothing…she had every intention of keeping herself just as she was. "I don't want you to pamper me into someone I'm not." Not that she thought he would, but the point seemed necessary. Important.
The doctor's eyes lost their mischievous dance, falling to seriousness. Where she expected him to be angry, he was not. Instead, she saw that this was important to him as well. "I wouldn't stand for it," he said softly. "I believe you know that."
Starling let out a breath and freed her apprehension. "I do. It just needed to be said."
"Indeed." He motioned to the open door. "After you, my dear."
A beat passed before she could tear her eyes from his, finally giving the room that awaited them her full attention. Despite the circumstances, it was the nicest she had seen of the mass-hotel chain productions. "Not so bad," she said again, finally crossing the doorsill.
Dr. Lecter murmured lowly in his throat. "Such lengths are necessary," he observed, nearly to himself, almost chanting in inward reassurance of his own convictions. "And granted, I suppose the conditions could be considerably worse."
"How so?"
He glanced at her cynically. "Really, Clarice." The light mock of appall made her want to snicker, but she refrained.
Starling knew he wasn't used to being ignored, nor had his voice or brutal gaze ever been received lightly, without visible reaction. Thus she took some pleasure in regarding him with little surface interest. "You know…" she said thoughtfully. "We probably should've just slept in the car." The words left her without deliberation. Making a generalization—a hotel stop would render their steps that much easier to trace, even with the added precaution.
That provoked a small smile, but she didn't see it; her back was to him. "What would the benefit be in that?" he asked.
Starling paused to process the implications, slowly turning to face him. She scolded herself for the need to catch up, but she wasn't accustomed to inducing such blatant insinuations without considering. Especially directed to him. Though this phase of their relationship was long overdue, she supposed growing familiar with it would take time.
Then, without any grand understanding, she realized the fluency was already there, hidden. Perhaps the awkward phase had passed, but she didn't recall there ever being one. The newness in itself was homely, and that was what surprised her.
The air hung over them thinly. Blinking, she cleared her throat and bit her lip. "So, Hannibal…"
"Clarice?"
"You said in the car that we were at a crossroads." She smiled lightly to herself in reverence at the growing ability to change the subject with increasing vigor. When he smirked in amusement, she was surprised to see the first glimmers of impatience flashing behind his eyes. The sight forced her to catch her breath.
"Do you fear progression, Former Agent Starling?" The question seemed serious, even if his tone was light-hearted. Still, she didn't want to answer it. She was terrified of progression, lest she would have found herself here long ago.
"You never did tell me what that meant," she replied faintly.
"Hmmm…" Dr. Lecter appeared to consider her a minute, the dancing sparks in his eyes darkening in intensity. "I do believe I have had a negative influence over you."
"Nah…really?" Then, curiously, she added, "What?"
"You seem to have espoused my tendency to talk too much."
"Great," Starling muttered with a poorly faked eye roll. The tease in her voice was easy to hear, and she knew she wouldn't have been able to hide it in any circumstance. "It's only been a few hours and you're rubbing off on me already."
"Are you disappointed?" Dr. Lecter took a step forward, and so did she. Any lingering doubt was melting away.
"Disappointed?" she repeated with arched brows. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep up, which should have unsettled her, but she barely registered the notion. Her mind flushed, attempting to piece together a witty retort, but Starling realized with little resignation that she was no longer in the mood to tease or banter. Nor, she sensed, was he. The fatigue that had plagued her a few short minutes ago had vanished. If there was any foreboding, she didn't feel it. "No," she continued finally. "I'm not disappointed."
"No regrets?"
Starling smiled and her eyes narrowed. "You seem to need constant reassurance of that."
"A man can't be too cautious," he replied simply. "I never want you to coil in lament over the decisions you make now. Life is too short to be twisted with resentment."
As if coached, she involuntarily referred again to her conscience, that which had acted as her beacon for so many wasted years. Her light. Her guidance. Her prison. Any remaining loyalties scratched to find some logicality for her transformation, but there was nothing. An autumn breeze stirring through her, but the leaves on the trees were dead. Spouts remained for next summer's growth, for the new beginning that was far behind schedule.
"No regrets," Starling decided. "I've beat myself up about this for a decade. And while my reckoning seemed rational, I was never satisfied."
"Are you satisfied now?"
She bit her lip. "There isn't anywhere else I'd rather be."
"But are you satisfied?"
Time seemed to suspend briefly as she considered. Starling knew her answer, held onto it, but likewise understood that its release meant the crossing of that final boundary. For a split second, she reviewed the steps that had brought her here, one last time. Again, she was shaken to think how long it took her to make it. How many years she had wasted, squandering herself away for nothing.
But that didn't matter now.
"Yes," she said at last, not stopping to consider. For one lifetime, she had thought enough.
The single declaration broke his control. She saw it snap, his eyes flickering almost dangerously. For a minute, he seemed to struggle to gain it back, conceding the next instant; control finally succumbing to a more powerful whim. His hands leapt from his sides and captured her head, bringing her mouth to his. There she tasted the rest of her promised kiss from the car, outlined with ten years of repressed zeal. For brutal seconds they battled, challenging the other with whatever fury was left to this means to an end. His teeth nipped at her provocatively, biting once, releasing any similar frustration before vehemence dwindled and left only fervor. Her arms remained immobile at her sides, every ounce of strength focused on matching his fire with her own. Revelations soared and conquered.
The night, like many to come, swirled in a sea of colors and ambiance. A slow escalation followed by a dive. Swoop. Perfect synchronization. Swoop. The thrill of Heaven and Hell, war and peace. To make a slow steady harvest, again and again. Captured in his eyes, melting in his kiss losing herself to sensation; engulfed, surrounded. Whole.
Reassurance. Choosing her corruption. Clarice Starling was a deep roller, but one of her parents was not.
FIN
~~~
"Federal Agent, Clarice Starling, formerly listed as missing, has surfaced—"
"Reports confirm that Special Agent Starling has fled—"
"Former Agent Ardelia Mapp, now being held in—"
"Ten year veteran of the Bureau, Clarice Starling, has reportedly disappeared with lethal madman Han—"
Click.
The air fell to silence, and in response, Starling stirred a bit in her sleep. She was not a customarily sound sleeper when it came to automobiles, having adapted to coincide with pesky stakeouts and other occupational requirements. Though she had grown used to it over the years, her body never fully adjusted. Special precautions were instituted now that Pearsall was completely up to speed. Two hours before, they had abandoned the Toyota in the parking lot of a desolate office complex in some small, nameless town. Dr. Lecter had also switched license plates and insisted that she relinquish driving duty. There, they had continued speedily in the opposite direction. The trail they were leaving now would eventually lead their pursuers north. They had lost an hour, but would benefit in the long run.
("On the road again…")
Sleep seemed impossible, and she had nearly laughed when Dr. Lecter made the suggestion. However, Starling found herself beyond fatigued once her motor abilities were no longer required to function. Merely reclining, not asked to remain alert, seemed to take it out of her. She had found sleep in short, easy minutes.
That was not to say her slumber went undisturbed. Occasionally she felt the shine of headlights from oncoming cars, stirred at the gentle hum of the radio that now played in place of dialogue, or jerked to temporary consciousness when the car met with a bump on the road. To his credit, Dr. Lecter did his absolute best to proceed over the rough pavement with utmost care, but their hurry offered little room for such consideration.
Still, whenever she started to awake, she felt a calm, reassuring touch at her shoulder, encouraging her to rest. Coaxing her back to sleep.
When the radio at last snapped off, every available station preoccupied with reports on their getaway, Starling awoke and did not retract back to her slumber. Her eyes remained closed and she enjoyed a time of rest, simply listening to the car hum and the low, tempered breathing of the man who now assumed control of the wheel.
Her face tickled with a grin that she could not school. Without opening her eyes, she felt his gaze drift in her direction.
"Hmmm," Dr. Lecter murmured thoughtfully, coaxing her eyes open briefly. "Now that is a very telling smile, Clarice. I suspect you are not yet wrought with doubt?"
"Very funny." The response was second nature, as though the days of doubt were far behind her and not only cold a few hours. However, it was authentic, flexing in newfound liberty.
She knew he heard this when a smile tugged at his lips. "Your good spirits means the lambs did not scream, I assume?"
Starling stretched in response to his voice, fighting off a yawn. With a weary nod, she sat up properly, reaching to rub her eyes. "No screaming lambs."
"What about former employers?"
"Maybe one or two of those."
The doctor rumbled lightly in mirth. "Was the coverage bothering you?"
"No. I just worry about Ardelia." She sighed and leaned back, hands falling limply to her lap, head reclining a fraction. "After everything she did for me…for you, too."
He nodded his understanding but did not speak.
"She deserves better than that," Starling decided inconclusively.
"Would you prefer we go back, Clarice?"
"No." The reply came so quickly, so naturally that she recognized with propinquity the material of her loyalties. Even though the question was rhetorical, she had to chew a bit on her answer. It meant many things, and ironically, nothing pertaining to her friend. She did not doubt her love for Mapp, but times had changed. Simply thinking of retreating for any purpose made her shudder. However, she decided not to brew. Though she had no way of knowing how much they would penalize her friend for her part in this chaotic escapade, aiding and abetting didn't ride well with bureaucrats, especially if that felon was Dr. Hannibal Lecter.
"Where are we?" Starling asked, driving her thoughts away.
"We crossed into North Carolina not too long ago."
She nodded, stretching again with another yawn. The urge was upon her to succumb to sleep but she wanted to talk. Since her transcend to euphoria in speaking to Pearsall, she and Dr. Lecter had rested in considerable silence. It seemed time for more discussion.
"You're tired, aren't you?" she asked innocently.
"Don't fret, Clarice. We will be stopping soon," he assured her. "Go back to sleep, if you like."
"Are you suggesting I won't sleep when we stop?"
That coaxed his eyes to her briefly and they blazed in scrutiny. "Hmmm. Was that a subtle innuendo or should I refrain from taking the bait?"
"You tell me."
Dr. Lecter grinned but turned his gaze back to the road. "Sleep when you want to then," he suggested with deceptive nonchalance. Starling was the wiser, clearly seeing the dance of his devilish pupils as they remained intently focused ahead.
"Where will we stop?"
"Somewhere boorish, undoubtedly," he replied. "I really do detest chain motels, despite their convenience."
"I rather doubt you'll opt for a Super 8," Starling replied with a chuckle. "There's bound to be a Ho-Jo's somewhere."
"How very trite."
"Work with what you're given," she retorted with a simple shrug.
"Old sentiment?"
"Family motto."
"Ah." Smiling to himself, Dr. Lecter's head tilted a fraction, even as his eyes remained firmly transfixed on the road ahead. "How charming."
A few minutes of silence followed. Soft. Companionable. Starling drew in a few ragged breaths as her mind began to wander. The proximity of their imminent stop for the evening gave her interesting food for thought, despite her casual jesting.
The evening encompassed and cocooned.
When Dr. Lecter spoke again, it drew her away from some distant pivotal point. She fought the urge to stretch again as it only seemed to increase her fatigue.
"When you were speaking to Clint," he said, "you mentioned that I was one of the calamities that 'happened' to you." It wasn't a question, or a plea for reassurance, or even the lure for the antidote to a bruised ego. Rather, it was merely a recapitulation. A reminder of her own words. Starling held her breath and waited a minute for the inevitable why, but it never came.
"Yes," she agreed a confused beat later. He only nodded encouragement. "I didn't mean it negatively…I know it sounded that way."
"Apologies are not in order, Clarice. I suffered no injured esteem."
"Then why bring it up at all?"
"Curiosity. I want to know if our meeting was such a calamity."
Starling's eyes narrowed. "That's a loaded question."
"Whatever isn't, these days?"
She sighed emphatically, leaning back into the seat. "For who, Dr. Lecter? Me or you? For you, you got a hell of a bargain. A ticket out of—"
"That is irrelevant, Clarice."
"I know." Aggravation had climbed into her throat and she made no attempt to disguise it. "Are you asking if life would be easier for either one of us had we never met?"
"No. I know the answer to that," Dr. Lecter replied lowly.
"Then what?"
"I suppose I want to know if you would have rejected the assignment, knowing what you do now."
The first thing that came to her mind surprised her for the blatant honesty. Starling had always thought, in the grand scheme of things, that life would be generally simpler had she never met Dr. Lecter. So much anguish and torment could have been avoided. So much grief from her superiors, those who hurt her because they were frightened of her. Of her strength and her failure to break. At her ability to look such a monster and walk away, at her prudence in tolerating them and surviving. But sitting here beside him, in this car they had to borrow from some tired workaholic, know everything…
Knowing everything included knowing what she understood about corruption and bureaucrats and the FBI. What she could tell from the likes of good and evil, the evil within the good, and the morality within the condemned.
"No, Dr. Lecter," she replied firmly. "I wouldn't change it for anything."
By his face, she was allowed to read the intense pleasure her words bore, perhaps with additional curiosity, but he took his time to savor its taste on his own merit. It was an answer he hadn't anticipated, one she hadn't realized she was prepared for.
"Why?" he asked inexorably, once he had clamped down his own reaction.
"Because had I not known you, I would've remained a stupid, naïve trainee all my life. I wouldn't have seen what I saw," Starling answered with deceiving agility and ease. "Because knowing you has helped me to know me."
His eyes flickered significantly once more but he forced his response aside, barking out another question. "What about what I did to you, Clarice? Robbing you of your youth, flavoring you with cynicism and bitterness, ensuring your permanent stature with the Tattler and all media hounds, subjecting you too soon to this world of—"
"Corruption, Doctor? Let me choose my corruption."
"And what do you choose?"
"Isn't it obvious?"
That indistinct comment finally coaxed a wry look, flashing with impatience, followed by amusement. A taut smile spread athwart his lips. "Former Agent Starling, I believe you have adapted far too well."
"To what?"
"To being as wonderfully elusive as I am."
She snickered. "Well…if you can't take it, don't dish it out."
"Oh contraire," Dr. Lecter replied with enthusiasm, "I find it most appetizing. Please continue. Enchant me."
His words echoed with aching familiarity, his voice lowering to natural seduction. Starling was forced to pause and catch her breath, noting somewhat dryly that it was most likely his intention to throw her off balance. Battling with him when the stakes were this wonderfully inconsequential was so divergent to every other conversation they had held, when the tension built for the wrong reasons and she feared the approach of a slip-up that could cost her everything. And while she knew very well that those days were not over simply with this change of sides, there was some instinctive satisfaction. The promise that no matter what, things would work out right from now on.
It was most likely a foolish, romantic jest. Starling did not and would never believe in 'happy ever after.'
"Enchant you with what?" she sneered mockingly.
Though subtle, her eyes caught Dr. Lecter's right wrist at the wheel, straining with effort and impatience. Despite his repulse for repeating himself, or conceding anything with such ease, his own faint tension was the victor. "Choosing your corruption?" he growled through gritted teeth. "And what happened to you to bring you here."
"Like I said, Doctor. You happened. You can't reduce yourself to a set of influences. Neither can I."
"And your corruption?"
A sly retort coiled and froze on her tongue, her mouth suddenly aching with the remnants of his kiss, so painfully brief before Pearsall's untimely interruption. Subconsciously, her tongue darted out to taste her upper lip. "I think I'll stick to being elusive for now," she decided, releasing a quivering breath. "Give you more of a taste of your own medicine."
"How cruel!" Feigned disappointment masked satisfaction. Whatever he needed to know he knew, simply from her tone. Even still, she had no doubt that he would make her speak the rest before the night was over. "Clarice, you have become a very adept tormentor. Did it ever occur to you that your consistent battle with your chosen occupation could have been accredited to a conflict of interests?"
"I don't know whether to be flattered or insulted."
"I would never insult your character."
"What about that 'hustling rube' comment?"
Dr. Lecter grinned. "Please, Clarice, let's focus on the present. If we continuously travel through these oddly convenient wrinkles in time, we will never get anywhere." In spite of his words, she could tell he was pleased, encouraged, by her dexterity in holding something for so long.
"Why should I? You never do."
She contorted in private triumph when he succumbed to light chuckles. "I'll have to decide how my arrogance flavors you," he said thoughtfully. "Coated along with cynicism and that indeterminate corruption."
That lent her pause for consideration. Her brow furrowed in thought and she leaned back once more, gnawing absently on her lower lip. "I suppose you've grown tired of bitterness," she said. "You've seen a lot of that."
Dr. Lecter gave her a slow, meaningful look, not as long as he would like, given the road before him. Though she sensed an onslaught of reprimands were collecting on his tongue, the gaze alone was enough to assure her of her place, and scold her for suggesting otherwise.
However, when he started to speak, she was surprised to hear indifference and lack of lecture. It was a degree lighter. He had read her understanding. "Falsified acrimony does wear my patience, yes," he agreed slowly. "People founded in today's society have such tedious, menial problems that submerge into resentment much too prematurely. Granted, there are exceptions here and there, but very few." He glanced to her again, but briefly. "I know what you have seen, Clarice, and what you have willingly endured time and time again. Your animosity is long overdue, if anything."
"It's a bitch to be optimistic when you're a pessimist at heart," she sighed, leaning her head onto her right arm that perched against the door.
He chuckled lightly. "You do it so well."
"Glad you think so."
"Hmmm…" Dr. Lecter hummed. "Why?"
"Because yours is the only opinion that matters to me."
Again he smiled. Starling loved it when he smiled, unable to drink in enough. Unlike the exchanges of their past, with smiles ringing of smug superiority—or even the more recent past—covered in jaded sadness, the smiles she received now were merely kind and understanding. It was frightening on a level, to think a man as notoriously monstrous as he was could demonstrate both the good and the bad faithfully to either extreme, but she had long given up trying to be horrified. The truth was, there were no wholly moral or immoral people in the world. Sooner or later, everyone had to choose their corruption.
"It seems we're at a crossroads, Clarice," he decided a minute later.
"Meeting in the middle?"
"Something like that."
She smirked. "It's never something with you, Doctor."
"Why do you call me that?"
The question surprised her for the ostensible spontaneity, sounding almost hurt that they weren't beyond the formalities. Likewise, it made her frown in recognition. Her mind jumbled into muddied illogicalities. "I don't know," she replied after a minute. "I didn't know I was invited to call you anything else."
"Ah." With this he seemed satisfied and appeared to dismiss the matter entire. Confused, she straightened again and her frown creased in concentration. It only lasted a minute, however, and he started speaking as though the break had not occurred. "Ten years is a long time, Clarice."
"If you want me to call you by your first name, just say it." She hadn't meant to sound indignant, but made no attempt to retract. Apologizing for herself was a futile effort; she knew he liked her just the way she was, and preferred the taste of her raw and principle thoughts, sterilized without consideration or censors.
Indeed, his amusement seemed to amplify, eyes sparkling even as they remained steadfast on the road. Starling looked ahead as she waited for his reply, noting with some approaching excitement that the lights of the next town were now in sight. A small, inconspicuous place, hopefully equipped with a Howard Johnson's, lest they succumb to a selection of less breeding. "Yes," he admitted finally. "Use my given name from now on, if you will."
"I'll try to remember."
"Please do." He paused briefly to flash her a smile, this one mischievous, though still sincere. "Not that I don't approve of your courtesy, Clarice, especially after all these years."
"Too formal for you, eh?"
"I believe we are beyond the status of teacher and pupil."
"Thank God."
Dr. Lecter smirked and glanced to her concisely again. "Though that is not to say I am finished with all those superb delights that come with it."
"No! Of course not," she agreed, her tone half mocking and fond.
"Clarice?"
She took a breath, knowing it was a test, feeling awkward even if it was what he wanted. A decade-long habit was a tough one to break, not because of the implication as much as the routine. "Hannibal?" Once the name rolled off her tongue, her reservation vanished. It sounded natural to her. Adult—matured past the days of her schooling, past the Bureau. Grown-up. Fly fly fly, little Starling.
"Would you like to stop for the evening?"
"Stop what? The conversation or the vehicle?"
He grinned. "Either or both."
"Ho-Jo's?"
"Trite, but as you so dotingly quipped, 'work with what you're given.'"
Starling chuckled. "Can't let go of the family motto."
"Which family?"
"My mother's cousin. She had a million sayings."
Dr. Lecter considered as he pulled the car into the hotel parking lot. Ashville was a small town and it appeared that there were only a few guests. "Then it couldn't have been the family motto," he observed. "If—"
"Doc…Hannibal?"
"Yes?"
"Anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?"
At that, his brows arched significantly. "Oh? What would you prefer?"
The car had stopped, but she didn't notice; too preoccupied with piecing together a reply. When it proved a fruitless effort, especially recovering from her catnap, she merely shrugged and reached for the handle. "I think I'd need of an example of my alternatives." Starling opened the door and wiggled out of the seat, enjoying the feel of the night air against her skin, and stretched her legs that were tired from the long ride. "Coming?" she asked, peering in before slamming the door shut.
To himself, in the sudden vacant silence of the car, he muttered, "Wouldn't miss it for the world." Then, with reticent slowness, he opened the door and rose to his feet.
In the course of the years spent on various field assignments and stakeouts, Starling liked to think of herself as a connoisseur of the typical chain motel. She had seen them all, but usually yielded to those of shoddier reputation to coincide with saving money. Howard Johnson's was far from her ideal bread and breakfast, but it was a nice break. A variation.
All more besides, it wasn't as conspicuous as their other options. Starling suspected Pearsall would hit the more prestigious inns to concur with the doctor's tastes, and resort to the other extreme once the results came back negative. In her experience, the man never found a medium. It was one or the other.
The clerk at the front desk appeared tired and absent. Starling bit her lip and wondered for a minute if she should go back for her purse, but declined when she saw Dr. Lecter's eyes. He was smiling softly, as though reading her thoughts, before joining her at the front desk. It was strange and liberating—sharing enough with this man to have her domestic peculiarities met in conventional fashions, but keeping enough to herself and always have him guessing.
"How may I help you?" the clerk asked wearily, doing his best to be responsive and friendly.
"One room, please."
"Standard, deluxe, or suite?"
Acts of whimsy. Starling bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling, as she guessed his preference immediately. Despite their surroundings, Dr. Lecter would always find an out to satisfy his various penchants.
Suites were one hundred forty a night. The price made her brows perk, but it didn't seem to surprise or offend the doctor. That was something else to grow accustomed to. Financial security. She puffed out a breath and endured his gaze of amused scrutiny for a brief minute before redirecting his attention to the kid in front of them.
"Will you be needing a wake-up call?"
Dr. Lecter smiled thinly. "I don't believe so."
For Starling, time slowed, or sped up, or was lost altogether. On some level, she expected this period of relative serenity to be wracked with guilt or second thoughts, but she had spent years beating herself up over the very same issues. And, all things considered, there wasn't anything to regret. She had thought this through over and over again, always arriving at the same conclusion. There wasn't anywhere else she wanted to be, anyone else she wanted to be with. Her over-worked, fatigued conscience waited for the reprimand, but it never came.
In these early stages, she suspected such thoughts were normal. After all, it was only this morning that she awoke, certain that she was out of a job and facing time in the local correctional facility.
"It's been a long day," she muttered as Dr. Lecter opened the door to their room for her.
"Stressful?"
"To the max."
The door swung open, but she didn't look in. They stood in the hallway for a minute, companionable, as though this margin was the final threshold.
"Are you all right?"
It was a genuine inquiry for her well being, layered with whatever concern he would allow her to hear. Starling didn't know what she found more atypical—the constant affirmation that the beauty of the beast outweighed the monstrosity, or the idea that someone would actually ask how she was feeling and mean it. Either way, she drank it in, reveling in its taste.
She was acting as elusive as she sounded. That was the second time he had asked that tonight.
"I'm better than all right," Starling replied with confidence, glancing inward briefly, not really seeing and making no move to step inside. "Though I don't see what's wrong with this hotel. I see nothing trite."
Dr. Lecter smiled and emitted a long sigh, as though releasing his own subtle tension. "Give it time, Clarice," he said. "You simply don't know what you have been missing."
That lent her pause, not so much for the words as much as the implication. While Starling knew many of her tastes would elevate, she wanted to hang on to some of the old life, grasp that fundamental essence that had assisted her through ten years of hostility. Whether it be preferences in hotels, music, food, clothing…she had every intention of keeping herself just as she was. "I don't want you to pamper me into someone I'm not." Not that she thought he would, but the point seemed necessary. Important.
The doctor's eyes lost their mischievous dance, falling to seriousness. Where she expected him to be angry, he was not. Instead, she saw that this was important to him as well. "I wouldn't stand for it," he said softly. "I believe you know that."
Starling let out a breath and freed her apprehension. "I do. It just needed to be said."
"Indeed." He motioned to the open door. "After you, my dear."
A beat passed before she could tear her eyes from his, finally giving the room that awaited them her full attention. Despite the circumstances, it was the nicest she had seen of the mass-hotel chain productions. "Not so bad," she said again, finally crossing the doorsill.
Dr. Lecter murmured lowly in his throat. "Such lengths are necessary," he observed, nearly to himself, almost chanting in inward reassurance of his own convictions. "And granted, I suppose the conditions could be considerably worse."
"How so?"
He glanced at her cynically. "Really, Clarice." The light mock of appall made her want to snicker, but she refrained.
Starling knew he wasn't used to being ignored, nor had his voice or brutal gaze ever been received lightly, without visible reaction. Thus she took some pleasure in regarding him with little surface interest. "You know…" she said thoughtfully. "We probably should've just slept in the car." The words left her without deliberation. Making a generalization—a hotel stop would render their steps that much easier to trace, even with the added precaution.
That provoked a small smile, but she didn't see it; her back was to him. "What would the benefit be in that?" he asked.
Starling paused to process the implications, slowly turning to face him. She scolded herself for the need to catch up, but she wasn't accustomed to inducing such blatant insinuations without considering. Especially directed to him. Though this phase of their relationship was long overdue, she supposed growing familiar with it would take time.
Then, without any grand understanding, she realized the fluency was already there, hidden. Perhaps the awkward phase had passed, but she didn't recall there ever being one. The newness in itself was homely, and that was what surprised her.
The air hung over them thinly. Blinking, she cleared her throat and bit her lip. "So, Hannibal…"
"Clarice?"
"You said in the car that we were at a crossroads." She smiled lightly to herself in reverence at the growing ability to change the subject with increasing vigor. When he smirked in amusement, she was surprised to see the first glimmers of impatience flashing behind his eyes. The sight forced her to catch her breath.
"Do you fear progression, Former Agent Starling?" The question seemed serious, even if his tone was light-hearted. Still, she didn't want to answer it. She was terrified of progression, lest she would have found herself here long ago.
"You never did tell me what that meant," she replied faintly.
"Hmmm…" Dr. Lecter appeared to consider her a minute, the dancing sparks in his eyes darkening in intensity. "I do believe I have had a negative influence over you."
"Nah…really?" Then, curiously, she added, "What?"
"You seem to have espoused my tendency to talk too much."
"Great," Starling muttered with a poorly faked eye roll. The tease in her voice was easy to hear, and she knew she wouldn't have been able to hide it in any circumstance. "It's only been a few hours and you're rubbing off on me already."
"Are you disappointed?" Dr. Lecter took a step forward, and so did she. Any lingering doubt was melting away.
"Disappointed?" she repeated with arched brows. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep up, which should have unsettled her, but she barely registered the notion. Her mind flushed, attempting to piece together a witty retort, but Starling realized with little resignation that she was no longer in the mood to tease or banter. Nor, she sensed, was he. The fatigue that had plagued her a few short minutes ago had vanished. If there was any foreboding, she didn't feel it. "No," she continued finally. "I'm not disappointed."
"No regrets?"
Starling smiled and her eyes narrowed. "You seem to need constant reassurance of that."
"A man can't be too cautious," he replied simply. "I never want you to coil in lament over the decisions you make now. Life is too short to be twisted with resentment."
As if coached, she involuntarily referred again to her conscience, that which had acted as her beacon for so many wasted years. Her light. Her guidance. Her prison. Any remaining loyalties scratched to find some logicality for her transformation, but there was nothing. An autumn breeze stirring through her, but the leaves on the trees were dead. Spouts remained for next summer's growth, for the new beginning that was far behind schedule.
"No regrets," Starling decided. "I've beat myself up about this for a decade. And while my reckoning seemed rational, I was never satisfied."
"Are you satisfied now?"
She bit her lip. "There isn't anywhere else I'd rather be."
"But are you satisfied?"
Time seemed to suspend briefly as she considered. Starling knew her answer, held onto it, but likewise understood that its release meant the crossing of that final boundary. For a split second, she reviewed the steps that had brought her here, one last time. Again, she was shaken to think how long it took her to make it. How many years she had wasted, squandering herself away for nothing.
But that didn't matter now.
"Yes," she said at last, not stopping to consider. For one lifetime, she had thought enough.
The single declaration broke his control. She saw it snap, his eyes flickering almost dangerously. For a minute, he seemed to struggle to gain it back, conceding the next instant; control finally succumbing to a more powerful whim. His hands leapt from his sides and captured her head, bringing her mouth to his. There she tasted the rest of her promised kiss from the car, outlined with ten years of repressed zeal. For brutal seconds they battled, challenging the other with whatever fury was left to this means to an end. His teeth nipped at her provocatively, biting once, releasing any similar frustration before vehemence dwindled and left only fervor. Her arms remained immobile at her sides, every ounce of strength focused on matching his fire with her own. Revelations soared and conquered.
The night, like many to come, swirled in a sea of colors and ambiance. A slow escalation followed by a dive. Swoop. Perfect synchronization. Swoop. The thrill of Heaven and Hell, war and peace. To make a slow steady harvest, again and again. Captured in his eyes, melting in his kiss losing herself to sensation; engulfed, surrounded. Whole.
Reassurance. Choosing her corruption. Clarice Starling was a deep roller, but one of her parents was not.
FIN