5
Clarice didn't even have a chance to think of what she ought to do. Not even an instant in which she could have looked for some kind of a weapon, or done anything that could have prevented her from coming face to face with...
A ten year old Asian boy, with a pair of Harry Potter style spectacles perched on his nose. He peered up with her with a sort of forward inquisitiveness, but he stayed silent. Silent.
As did she, for several minutes, as she tries to compose herself and slow down the racing of her frantic heart. The adrenaline that got pumped into her veins so quickly had tensed her body to prepare it to fight, or flee, and her body now did not quite want to agree with her mind that they were out of danger. She had been so sure, so very sure, that she would soon be face to face with the doctor again. To run into a little boy was a severe disappointment... no, disappointment. That wasn't the right word at all. Surely she meant...
"H'lo." The boy spoke, apparently having decided that she wasn't likely going to attack him. "Are you Clarice?"
"Hello there," Clarice murmured, coming back to herself as that soft voice reached her, and she crouched down slightly to look the boy in the eyes. "Yes, I'm Clarice. What's your name?"
"I'm Gerald. Ev'ryone calls me Gerry. You live o'er there, right?"
Clarice nodded her head mutely, remaining quiet for a moment as a though wiggled its way into her brain. A suspicion. "How did you know my name, Gerry?"
The sweet little boy seemed somewhat surprised at the question, and hesitated for a moment before he answered her question. "He said to look for a pretty lady with red hair. Said to make sure it was Clarice, and that she lived next door. An' I did that."
"Who, who Gerry? Who told you to do that?"
"The man who's been livin' here for th' past coupla weeks. He told me to tell you something."
She took a deep breath, and settled down into a seated position, as though the boys words had come as a physical blow. "All right. What did he say to tell me?"
"Made me memorize it. He said t' say that more than jus' shoes are waiting for you." Gerry seemed quite pleased at having remembered that, and he said it with pride enough to swell his entire chest.
Her complete lack of enthusiasm didn't seem to phase him.
"More than just shoes are waiting for me... where? It's really important that you remember, Gerry, where did he say for me to go?" Clarice asked, having to resist an urge to reach out and grab the young boy by the shoulders. She had to keep her voice level, and calm. She had to find out. Without it, she'd probably never get another chance.
"Didn' say where. I told you what he said to say, word fer word. He said you'd know..." And before the little boy could continue, his mother called from down the hall. Called him home, saying that he needed to stop pestering that dear man in 554, and it was time for lunch. Gerry ran off without another word, without so much as a glance at the woman that he had given this enormous gift to... as well as a burden.
**********
Back in her apartment, Clarice was pacing. She'd developed a circuit. Around the table in the kitchen, through the living room, a loop around the couch, a loop around the armchair, back into the kitchen. With a beer, naturally, clasped in her hand.
"More than just shoes are waiting for me," she whispered, staring at her feet as she turned around the edge of the couch. "And I'd know."
Despite the treasure hunt he'd just sent her on, despite the clue that he'd left her in the form of a little boy, she was nowhere. She had gotten no further on this case than she had before he'd contacted her, he was still anonymous, and she was still clueless.
She stopped in her tracks, and stared at the can clasped in her hand for a long moment, before she changed her course. This time she went through the bedroom, and into the closet, to seek out the only shoes that he could have meant...
Of course. The Gucci shoes, still every bit as elegant and beautiful as when he'd left them for her.
When she'd found them.
In the mall.
In the photo booth.
"Oh shit!" was all she could say, before she spun around to make a dash for the keys.
She had to get there as fast as she possibly could.
Who knew how long he'd wait.
**********
It was noisy, crowded, a swelteringly hot inside that large building. There were several children crying as their harried mothers dragged them through Eddie Bauer, and William Sonoma. People yelling, laughing, enough so that the noise level reached proportions that would make any normal person clap their hands over their ears and just pray that it all be over soon.
It may as well have been silent for all Clarice noticed. From the second she entered she had but one purpose, and that was to find the carousel, and from that find the photo booth. The only reason she noticed anyone was from the fact that they were delaying her from getting where she needed to go.
First a group of tourists somehow got in her way. Then she was momentarily sidetracked by an old friend, who then had the unfortunate experience of dealing with Clarice when she was irritable and in a hurry. But the carousel music was playing close, so very close... the horses were visible, bobbing up and down in their rhythmic dance.
Then there it was. The photo booth. Innocuous, looking just like any other you could find the world over... besides the fact that an 'Out of Order' sign was taped on the curtain, printed in bold type on a piece of bright yellow paper.
It didn't stop her from going right up to it, and forcing it to the side... and then she was left staring with her eyes open wide at the seat.
More precisely, the perfectly empty seat.
"But..." Clarice murmured to herself, letting her eyes roam around the booth to see if anything was out of place. "But surely this is what he meant."
She could feel the disappointment welling in her, but forced it back down. She was not disappointed to not find him. She couldn't be. It would be an utterly irrational way for her to feel, besides the disappointment of missing an opportunity to capture him... yes, that was all it was.
"Think, Starling, think," she continued muttering to herself, quite ignoring the odd looks she was receiving from the people meandering past her. "He's subtle. He's not obvious. What would Hannibal do?"
Her eyes continued to drift. They settled, after several moments, on the bright yellow of the sign pinned to the curtain. Somehow it seemed a little too convenient that the photo booth should just happen to be out of order, just when it was to be the next step in this treasure hunt he's sent her on.
It only took a moment to unpin it, and discover the yellow piece of paper to be an envelope. Somehow she was not surprised. Concealed within was a letter, a single sheet of paper, with words written on it in his familiar hand. Words that were quite enough to make her sit, brow creasing with confusion.
Dear Agent Starling,
When it is made
It disappears;
You cannot see it
But it governs your years.
It can bring joy,
Or leave you in tears.
What is it?
The answer is yours now, Clarice, as is the decision that comes with it. Weigh the odds carefully, consider the pros and cons in your mind, for once that decision is made it cannot be refuted. This is the last, Clarice. Bear that in mind that all games must end. Wednesday comes quickly. Fifty-Four is still the key.
Yours,
Hannibal Lecter M.D.
*********
"Why does he never say anything flat out," Clarice hissed beneath her breath as she reread the letter, once safe in her car, out of view of the eyes of the general public. "When it is made... it disappears. Damn."
Riddles were never her strong point, though she had been passionate about them when she was a little girl. But she was long out of practice, deciphering the meaning, figuring out what the words aren't saying and applying logic to make it come out in a reasonable way... and half the time the answer was so obvious that it just makes you angry that you'd wasted any time on it at all.
Not to mention the fact that it sounded as though her time was running out. It was Monday. Wednesday would come quickly indeed.
"Choice," Clarice spoke aloud, eyeing the paper in her hand with her lips pursed. The answer came abruptly, more quickly than she could have hoped. "A choice. I have to make a choice... Thank you. Thank you, Dr. Lecter, your little riddle was very helpful."
She had to make a choice.
She just didn't know what it was about.
And the number 54 still was not going away.
**********
Author's Note: Yeah! I managed to get it out without making you wait for months and months. Yay for me. Thanks go to LadyOfTruths, Satai Nad, Alegretto Emily, chameleon302, Memor Sol Solis, SJ, luna, Lauralye, Hanniballover1181, Nanci, Nikita, Steel, and DarkShadow. Wow! Great feedback. You're all my inspiration to keep going. Well, you and Hannibal both. Equally. ^.^
Clarice didn't even have a chance to think of what she ought to do. Not even an instant in which she could have looked for some kind of a weapon, or done anything that could have prevented her from coming face to face with...
A ten year old Asian boy, with a pair of Harry Potter style spectacles perched on his nose. He peered up with her with a sort of forward inquisitiveness, but he stayed silent. Silent.
As did she, for several minutes, as she tries to compose herself and slow down the racing of her frantic heart. The adrenaline that got pumped into her veins so quickly had tensed her body to prepare it to fight, or flee, and her body now did not quite want to agree with her mind that they were out of danger. She had been so sure, so very sure, that she would soon be face to face with the doctor again. To run into a little boy was a severe disappointment... no, disappointment. That wasn't the right word at all. Surely she meant...
"H'lo." The boy spoke, apparently having decided that she wasn't likely going to attack him. "Are you Clarice?"
"Hello there," Clarice murmured, coming back to herself as that soft voice reached her, and she crouched down slightly to look the boy in the eyes. "Yes, I'm Clarice. What's your name?"
"I'm Gerald. Ev'ryone calls me Gerry. You live o'er there, right?"
Clarice nodded her head mutely, remaining quiet for a moment as a though wiggled its way into her brain. A suspicion. "How did you know my name, Gerry?"
The sweet little boy seemed somewhat surprised at the question, and hesitated for a moment before he answered her question. "He said to look for a pretty lady with red hair. Said to make sure it was Clarice, and that she lived next door. An' I did that."
"Who, who Gerry? Who told you to do that?"
"The man who's been livin' here for th' past coupla weeks. He told me to tell you something."
She took a deep breath, and settled down into a seated position, as though the boys words had come as a physical blow. "All right. What did he say to tell me?"
"Made me memorize it. He said t' say that more than jus' shoes are waiting for you." Gerry seemed quite pleased at having remembered that, and he said it with pride enough to swell his entire chest.
Her complete lack of enthusiasm didn't seem to phase him.
"More than just shoes are waiting for me... where? It's really important that you remember, Gerry, where did he say for me to go?" Clarice asked, having to resist an urge to reach out and grab the young boy by the shoulders. She had to keep her voice level, and calm. She had to find out. Without it, she'd probably never get another chance.
"Didn' say where. I told you what he said to say, word fer word. He said you'd know..." And before the little boy could continue, his mother called from down the hall. Called him home, saying that he needed to stop pestering that dear man in 554, and it was time for lunch. Gerry ran off without another word, without so much as a glance at the woman that he had given this enormous gift to... as well as a burden.
**********
Back in her apartment, Clarice was pacing. She'd developed a circuit. Around the table in the kitchen, through the living room, a loop around the couch, a loop around the armchair, back into the kitchen. With a beer, naturally, clasped in her hand.
"More than just shoes are waiting for me," she whispered, staring at her feet as she turned around the edge of the couch. "And I'd know."
Despite the treasure hunt he'd just sent her on, despite the clue that he'd left her in the form of a little boy, she was nowhere. She had gotten no further on this case than she had before he'd contacted her, he was still anonymous, and she was still clueless.
She stopped in her tracks, and stared at the can clasped in her hand for a long moment, before she changed her course. This time she went through the bedroom, and into the closet, to seek out the only shoes that he could have meant...
Of course. The Gucci shoes, still every bit as elegant and beautiful as when he'd left them for her.
When she'd found them.
In the mall.
In the photo booth.
"Oh shit!" was all she could say, before she spun around to make a dash for the keys.
She had to get there as fast as she possibly could.
Who knew how long he'd wait.
**********
It was noisy, crowded, a swelteringly hot inside that large building. There were several children crying as their harried mothers dragged them through Eddie Bauer, and William Sonoma. People yelling, laughing, enough so that the noise level reached proportions that would make any normal person clap their hands over their ears and just pray that it all be over soon.
It may as well have been silent for all Clarice noticed. From the second she entered she had but one purpose, and that was to find the carousel, and from that find the photo booth. The only reason she noticed anyone was from the fact that they were delaying her from getting where she needed to go.
First a group of tourists somehow got in her way. Then she was momentarily sidetracked by an old friend, who then had the unfortunate experience of dealing with Clarice when she was irritable and in a hurry. But the carousel music was playing close, so very close... the horses were visible, bobbing up and down in their rhythmic dance.
Then there it was. The photo booth. Innocuous, looking just like any other you could find the world over... besides the fact that an 'Out of Order' sign was taped on the curtain, printed in bold type on a piece of bright yellow paper.
It didn't stop her from going right up to it, and forcing it to the side... and then she was left staring with her eyes open wide at the seat.
More precisely, the perfectly empty seat.
"But..." Clarice murmured to herself, letting her eyes roam around the booth to see if anything was out of place. "But surely this is what he meant."
She could feel the disappointment welling in her, but forced it back down. She was not disappointed to not find him. She couldn't be. It would be an utterly irrational way for her to feel, besides the disappointment of missing an opportunity to capture him... yes, that was all it was.
"Think, Starling, think," she continued muttering to herself, quite ignoring the odd looks she was receiving from the people meandering past her. "He's subtle. He's not obvious. What would Hannibal do?"
Her eyes continued to drift. They settled, after several moments, on the bright yellow of the sign pinned to the curtain. Somehow it seemed a little too convenient that the photo booth should just happen to be out of order, just when it was to be the next step in this treasure hunt he's sent her on.
It only took a moment to unpin it, and discover the yellow piece of paper to be an envelope. Somehow she was not surprised. Concealed within was a letter, a single sheet of paper, with words written on it in his familiar hand. Words that were quite enough to make her sit, brow creasing with confusion.
Dear Agent Starling,
When it is made
It disappears;
You cannot see it
But it governs your years.
It can bring joy,
Or leave you in tears.
What is it?
The answer is yours now, Clarice, as is the decision that comes with it. Weigh the odds carefully, consider the pros and cons in your mind, for once that decision is made it cannot be refuted. This is the last, Clarice. Bear that in mind that all games must end. Wednesday comes quickly. Fifty-Four is still the key.
Yours,
Hannibal Lecter M.D.
*********
"Why does he never say anything flat out," Clarice hissed beneath her breath as she reread the letter, once safe in her car, out of view of the eyes of the general public. "When it is made... it disappears. Damn."
Riddles were never her strong point, though she had been passionate about them when she was a little girl. But she was long out of practice, deciphering the meaning, figuring out what the words aren't saying and applying logic to make it come out in a reasonable way... and half the time the answer was so obvious that it just makes you angry that you'd wasted any time on it at all.
Not to mention the fact that it sounded as though her time was running out. It was Monday. Wednesday would come quickly indeed.
"Choice," Clarice spoke aloud, eyeing the paper in her hand with her lips pursed. The answer came abruptly, more quickly than she could have hoped. "A choice. I have to make a choice... Thank you. Thank you, Dr. Lecter, your little riddle was very helpful."
She had to make a choice.
She just didn't know what it was about.
And the number 54 still was not going away.
**********
Author's Note: Yeah! I managed to get it out without making you wait for months and months. Yay for me. Thanks go to LadyOfTruths, Satai Nad, Alegretto Emily, chameleon302, Memor Sol Solis, SJ, luna, Lauralye, Hanniballover1181, Nanci, Nikita, Steel, and DarkShadow. Wow! Great feedback. You're all my inspiration to keep going. Well, you and Hannibal both. Equally. ^.^