8
Memories. They're really taken for granted most of the time. Understandably, since they just sit quietly and peacefully in the backs of our minds until we with to call them up. They're docile, and unobtrusive. Most of the time.
Clarice, however, was suddenly bombarded with flashes from her life, zaps of memory that lasted no more than a few seconds before moving on to the next scene.
Her father peeling an orange with his broken pocket knife.
Her father's funeral.
Making it into the F.B.I.
Getting her first case.
Meeting him.
Him.
Her father.
Her teachers.
Him.
Him.
He was always there. In her mind.
The montage of her life seemed, after a moment, seemed to cycle through her father, her training, and him. The whole episode couldn't have lasted more than a few minutes. Her life flashed before her eyes, highlighting every painful and gut-wrenching moment she'd had to endure through her years, every death of a loved one, every tough decision, and through it all there was him. Breaking in periodically, with the memories she had of him. Perhaps her most vivid.
Meeting him.
Speaking with him.
The first phone call from him.
Getting put back on his case.
Hearing his voice when she expected Pazzi's.
Knowing he'd been in her house.
Seeing him outside the mall.
Waking in that dress.
The confrontation.
The kiss.
"Oh god," Clarice whispered, burying her face in her hands as a wave of nausea hit her.
What she was considering went against everything she'd ever believed in in her life. It went against everything her daddy told her, everything her mother told her. It went against her training, her instinct, her mind, her sensibility. But she wanted it. Acknowledging that some dark part inside herself actually wanted it left a foul taste in her mouth, she could feel her stomach churning, and her tears felt hot on her cheeks.
Perhaps it was the crying that gave her a degree of control. She cried only rarely, and never where she might be seen. Above all else she needed to be strong, particularly at this point in time where now her life was in jeopardy, in every way that truly mattered.
She rose shakily from her seat. She managed to keep her balance, and not vomit at the same time, which she took as a fairly good sign.
The credits for Titanic were still scrolling down the screen as she slowly made her way towards the front, towards the first class. Towards him. Though she had not decided, and she didn't know what she'd say when she got there. But somehow, staying where she was seemed intolerable.
*********
Clarice wasn't used to the elegance of first class. She'd never had the means to fly first class, and even if she had she probably wouldn't have. She'd have felt like a fraud, a common little country girl pretending to be someone important and sophisticated.
She felt that way then, making her way up the aisle, keeping an eye out for the stewardess to make sure she wouldn't be hampered in her journey.
Dr. Lecter would, of course, have to be sitting as far from where she was as possible. All the way forward, and on the opposite side of the plane. She spotted him straight off. It was difficult not to, he sat with much more elegance than the rest of the passengers slumped in their seats, most drunk from the convenient free champagne that they'd been drinking throughout the whole flight.
She felt peculiarly like she did when he'd had her drugged with morphine. The world seemed to be swimming in front of her eyes as put one foot in front of the other, slowly narrowing the distance.
She stepped on someone's foot. They were drunk. They didn't notice.
Neither did she.
Dr. Lecter didn't seem at all surprised when she sat down beside him. He simply closed his book and set it aside, and waited. He didn't speak, didn't take the initiative as he so often did, but waited, as he didn't have any idea what Clarice was about to say.
Neither did she, unfortunately, until she started speaking.
"My whole life I've played by other peoples rules," is what she said, her voice soft and still a bit shaky. "I've lived by my father's rules, I became a law enforcement agent, I upheld justice, law, and order, and tried to live the life that was stolen from him."
She paused to consider what was coming out of her mouth, and wasn't sure if she ought to laugh or cry. It sounded like something the good doctor would be saying to her, not something she'd be saying about herself. She didn't know what to think. And he stayed perfectly silent.
"I lived by my mother's rules, too. I did everything I could to be respectable. I bought nice clothes, a nice purse. Eventually nice shoes, and a nice car. I never got married because she taught me to wait for the perfect man, and I've only had the occasional fling for the same reason. I lived by the rules of my employers, my friends, my neighbors, my roommates, even my goddamn Safeway clerk... everyone's rules but my own."
Still he didn't speak. The continued silence from him just made her continually uneasy. Anxious. The knot in her stomach kept getting pulled tighter despite her attempts to relax, and she was all too aware that it wasn't long until they were going to land.
"In fact..." Her voice broke, and she had to stop for a minute. He wasn't even looking at her. Just looking straight ahead, without expression on his face. "In fact the only time that I've gone on my own rules is where you were concerned, Dr. Lecter. You're a murderer. A monster. A criminal. My life has been devoted to catching people like you. But every time we've met... would you at least do me the courtesy of looking at me while I'm pouring my guts out to you, Dr. Lecter?"
That snap at least managed to break the silence he'd been maintaining, even if it was only a few words spoken as he turned to look directly at her. "Forgive me."
Clarice nodded. She opened her mouth to finish what she was saying... and made the mistake of meeting his gaze. He was watching her with that single- minded, unblinking gaze that was his trademark, and once caught by those eyes she found it perfectly impossible to continue what she was saying. Perhaps he realized that, as he finally had mercy on her, and spoke in those even silk-soft tones of his.
"You want to be loyal to your mommy and daddy, Clarice... but you have to decide if being loyal to them is being loyal to yourself."
She found herself not wanting to listen to what he was saying. She tried to tune him out. But tuning him out is all but impossible, once he gets in your head.
"You have to decide if all your daddy's morals are going to make you happy, if his evidently noble beliefs are yours as well."
Her fingers began to tighten on the armrests, though she didn't notice. She started breathing faster, her jaw was clenched, and somewhere along the line she'd forgotten to continue blinking. But she didn't notice.
"It's your choice. Are you to be Clarice, or Agent Starling?"
It hurt. In books you can always read about someone feeling physical pain from something mental, but it had always seemed like nonsense... like knees knocking, or teeth chattering from fear. Even when grieving for a family member, all the agony was in her mind. But right then, at that moment, Clarice could feel an actual ache starting in the general area of her spleen then radiating outwards. She could feel him opening his mouth to say something else... but she'd had enough. She was done. Before he could get a word out she rose, and made halting progress back to her coach seat in the airplane, in the hopes that there she could collect her thoughts, and regroup.
**********
Paris. City of romance. When the plane landed rain was pouring down from the skies, in a picturesque romance novel type style. It was ironic. Under other circumstances it might even have been amusing, but the knot in her stomach was enough to keep everything perfectly solemn in her mind.
When she stepped off the ramp and into the airport there were dozens of people milling around. Some were speaking French, some English, and there was a group off to the side that were speaking what sounded like Arabic. She didn't notice a single one of them, she only took the time to glance across each person in turn to see if it was the one person that she sought.
She found him waiting by the door, outside of the airport area, through customs and whatnot, just standing and staring out into the rain.
When she reached his side he didn't turn to her. Not until she spoke.
"I've chosen."
Then he turned, to look on her with that intense gaze. "Yes?"
But Clarice spoke not a word.
Her mouth was otherwise occupied.
She kissed him, tentatively putting her arms around his neck, though she felt ridiculous as she did so. She couldn't stop her mind from whirring, spinning around in spirals and circles, drawing the same conclusions over and over in different ways for different reasons, but never being quite satisfied. She couldn't help thinking of the fact that the lips she was kissing were lips that had touched, so many times, the flesh of other human beings. She was kissing the mouth that ate Paul Krendler's brain.
But then Hannibal Lecter responded. He kissed her back. She felt the same warmth she had the first time their lips had touched, when her hair had been trapped in a refrigerator door. She felt the same tingles crawling along her skin as when they first touched, that brief touch of their fingers when he passed her the file folder. Then she felt something else, something she hadn't quite experienced for a long time... she'd gotten close on occasion, but not for many years had she felt it.
She felt happy. Truly happy.
She made her choice.
She was Clarice.
She was his.
~Fin~
**********
Author's Note: Woo! A convoluted ride, eh? Thank you all for sticking with me! I hope you enjoyed this last chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Um. I think it's a bit different than the way I usually write. Hope you like it. Wait. Said that already. Ooh, the euphoria of finishing a story! Yeah! Whee. They're together! I briefly considered having her betray him, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Sniffle. Happy. Okay! Yay! Done. I can't believe the response I've gotten on this! Thank you all so so much, everyone that's ever read this fic. But more specific thanks go out to Steel, Allegretto Emily, troesnaja, SJ, Samantha Bridges, luna, Raija Darknight, Nikita, Nanci, LadyOfTruths, Shattered Mug, Horserider, chameleon302, Cloudburst2000, and HuntedRose. I love you!
Memories. They're really taken for granted most of the time. Understandably, since they just sit quietly and peacefully in the backs of our minds until we with to call them up. They're docile, and unobtrusive. Most of the time.
Clarice, however, was suddenly bombarded with flashes from her life, zaps of memory that lasted no more than a few seconds before moving on to the next scene.
Her father peeling an orange with his broken pocket knife.
Her father's funeral.
Making it into the F.B.I.
Getting her first case.
Meeting him.
Him.
Her father.
Her teachers.
Him.
Him.
He was always there. In her mind.
The montage of her life seemed, after a moment, seemed to cycle through her father, her training, and him. The whole episode couldn't have lasted more than a few minutes. Her life flashed before her eyes, highlighting every painful and gut-wrenching moment she'd had to endure through her years, every death of a loved one, every tough decision, and through it all there was him. Breaking in periodically, with the memories she had of him. Perhaps her most vivid.
Meeting him.
Speaking with him.
The first phone call from him.
Getting put back on his case.
Hearing his voice when she expected Pazzi's.
Knowing he'd been in her house.
Seeing him outside the mall.
Waking in that dress.
The confrontation.
The kiss.
"Oh god," Clarice whispered, burying her face in her hands as a wave of nausea hit her.
What she was considering went against everything she'd ever believed in in her life. It went against everything her daddy told her, everything her mother told her. It went against her training, her instinct, her mind, her sensibility. But she wanted it. Acknowledging that some dark part inside herself actually wanted it left a foul taste in her mouth, she could feel her stomach churning, and her tears felt hot on her cheeks.
Perhaps it was the crying that gave her a degree of control. She cried only rarely, and never where she might be seen. Above all else she needed to be strong, particularly at this point in time where now her life was in jeopardy, in every way that truly mattered.
She rose shakily from her seat. She managed to keep her balance, and not vomit at the same time, which she took as a fairly good sign.
The credits for Titanic were still scrolling down the screen as she slowly made her way towards the front, towards the first class. Towards him. Though she had not decided, and she didn't know what she'd say when she got there. But somehow, staying where she was seemed intolerable.
*********
Clarice wasn't used to the elegance of first class. She'd never had the means to fly first class, and even if she had she probably wouldn't have. She'd have felt like a fraud, a common little country girl pretending to be someone important and sophisticated.
She felt that way then, making her way up the aisle, keeping an eye out for the stewardess to make sure she wouldn't be hampered in her journey.
Dr. Lecter would, of course, have to be sitting as far from where she was as possible. All the way forward, and on the opposite side of the plane. She spotted him straight off. It was difficult not to, he sat with much more elegance than the rest of the passengers slumped in their seats, most drunk from the convenient free champagne that they'd been drinking throughout the whole flight.
She felt peculiarly like she did when he'd had her drugged with morphine. The world seemed to be swimming in front of her eyes as put one foot in front of the other, slowly narrowing the distance.
She stepped on someone's foot. They were drunk. They didn't notice.
Neither did she.
Dr. Lecter didn't seem at all surprised when she sat down beside him. He simply closed his book and set it aside, and waited. He didn't speak, didn't take the initiative as he so often did, but waited, as he didn't have any idea what Clarice was about to say.
Neither did she, unfortunately, until she started speaking.
"My whole life I've played by other peoples rules," is what she said, her voice soft and still a bit shaky. "I've lived by my father's rules, I became a law enforcement agent, I upheld justice, law, and order, and tried to live the life that was stolen from him."
She paused to consider what was coming out of her mouth, and wasn't sure if she ought to laugh or cry. It sounded like something the good doctor would be saying to her, not something she'd be saying about herself. She didn't know what to think. And he stayed perfectly silent.
"I lived by my mother's rules, too. I did everything I could to be respectable. I bought nice clothes, a nice purse. Eventually nice shoes, and a nice car. I never got married because she taught me to wait for the perfect man, and I've only had the occasional fling for the same reason. I lived by the rules of my employers, my friends, my neighbors, my roommates, even my goddamn Safeway clerk... everyone's rules but my own."
Still he didn't speak. The continued silence from him just made her continually uneasy. Anxious. The knot in her stomach kept getting pulled tighter despite her attempts to relax, and she was all too aware that it wasn't long until they were going to land.
"In fact..." Her voice broke, and she had to stop for a minute. He wasn't even looking at her. Just looking straight ahead, without expression on his face. "In fact the only time that I've gone on my own rules is where you were concerned, Dr. Lecter. You're a murderer. A monster. A criminal. My life has been devoted to catching people like you. But every time we've met... would you at least do me the courtesy of looking at me while I'm pouring my guts out to you, Dr. Lecter?"
That snap at least managed to break the silence he'd been maintaining, even if it was only a few words spoken as he turned to look directly at her. "Forgive me."
Clarice nodded. She opened her mouth to finish what she was saying... and made the mistake of meeting his gaze. He was watching her with that single- minded, unblinking gaze that was his trademark, and once caught by those eyes she found it perfectly impossible to continue what she was saying. Perhaps he realized that, as he finally had mercy on her, and spoke in those even silk-soft tones of his.
"You want to be loyal to your mommy and daddy, Clarice... but you have to decide if being loyal to them is being loyal to yourself."
She found herself not wanting to listen to what he was saying. She tried to tune him out. But tuning him out is all but impossible, once he gets in your head.
"You have to decide if all your daddy's morals are going to make you happy, if his evidently noble beliefs are yours as well."
Her fingers began to tighten on the armrests, though she didn't notice. She started breathing faster, her jaw was clenched, and somewhere along the line she'd forgotten to continue blinking. But she didn't notice.
"It's your choice. Are you to be Clarice, or Agent Starling?"
It hurt. In books you can always read about someone feeling physical pain from something mental, but it had always seemed like nonsense... like knees knocking, or teeth chattering from fear. Even when grieving for a family member, all the agony was in her mind. But right then, at that moment, Clarice could feel an actual ache starting in the general area of her spleen then radiating outwards. She could feel him opening his mouth to say something else... but she'd had enough. She was done. Before he could get a word out she rose, and made halting progress back to her coach seat in the airplane, in the hopes that there she could collect her thoughts, and regroup.
**********
Paris. City of romance. When the plane landed rain was pouring down from the skies, in a picturesque romance novel type style. It was ironic. Under other circumstances it might even have been amusing, but the knot in her stomach was enough to keep everything perfectly solemn in her mind.
When she stepped off the ramp and into the airport there were dozens of people milling around. Some were speaking French, some English, and there was a group off to the side that were speaking what sounded like Arabic. She didn't notice a single one of them, she only took the time to glance across each person in turn to see if it was the one person that she sought.
She found him waiting by the door, outside of the airport area, through customs and whatnot, just standing and staring out into the rain.
When she reached his side he didn't turn to her. Not until she spoke.
"I've chosen."
Then he turned, to look on her with that intense gaze. "Yes?"
But Clarice spoke not a word.
Her mouth was otherwise occupied.
She kissed him, tentatively putting her arms around his neck, though she felt ridiculous as she did so. She couldn't stop her mind from whirring, spinning around in spirals and circles, drawing the same conclusions over and over in different ways for different reasons, but never being quite satisfied. She couldn't help thinking of the fact that the lips she was kissing were lips that had touched, so many times, the flesh of other human beings. She was kissing the mouth that ate Paul Krendler's brain.
But then Hannibal Lecter responded. He kissed her back. She felt the same warmth she had the first time their lips had touched, when her hair had been trapped in a refrigerator door. She felt the same tingles crawling along her skin as when they first touched, that brief touch of their fingers when he passed her the file folder. Then she felt something else, something she hadn't quite experienced for a long time... she'd gotten close on occasion, but not for many years had she felt it.
She felt happy. Truly happy.
She made her choice.
She was Clarice.
She was his.
~Fin~
**********
Author's Note: Woo! A convoluted ride, eh? Thank you all for sticking with me! I hope you enjoyed this last chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Um. I think it's a bit different than the way I usually write. Hope you like it. Wait. Said that already. Ooh, the euphoria of finishing a story! Yeah! Whee. They're together! I briefly considered having her betray him, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Sniffle. Happy. Okay! Yay! Done. I can't believe the response I've gotten on this! Thank you all so so much, everyone that's ever read this fic. But more specific thanks go out to Steel, Allegretto Emily, troesnaja, SJ, Samantha Bridges, luna, Raija Darknight, Nikita, Nanci, LadyOfTruths, Shattered Mug, Horserider, chameleon302, Cloudburst2000, and HuntedRose. I love you!