Chapter Nine: Settling Matters
Hannibal picked his way through the woods, not exactly taking his time, but taking care not to make a great deal of noise, or stumble through a covered rabbit or more hole and break his ankle. If he did that, where would Clarice be then? She wouldn't be able to sit there waiting forever, and he knew she would likely come looking for him… but might get more injured herself in the process. It was a particularly dark night, and he damned the clouds that spoke of oncoming thundershowers within the next several hours. If he could just get to Clarice's home, into the door, find her things, and then leave without being noticed, then it would be a blessing. He wasn't looking forward to running into more trouble than they were already in.
It took fifteen minutes for him to reach the back of the apartment complex. He could see that Clarice had left the back door not only unlocked, but open. A faint light sent a sliver of yellow onto the ground in his direction as it filtered into the kitchen from the TV room. Making his way up to the stairs, he paused, held his breath, and looked around. There was no sound coming from inside the apartment. Clarice hadn't been watching her TV that night, and so there was nothing to hear from the other room. No one had entered the house. No one was even near the house.
Letting out his breath, Hannibal tried to open the storm door as quietly as he could. Yet it was very old, and quite rusty. It only opened half a foot before it jammed, but it was enough for him to step into the kitchen. He saw that Clarice had left her suitcase at the foot of the stairs by the front door. He could see it down the hallway from where he stood. Walking stealthily into the other room, he moved over to where the lamp was on in the TV room, and took a fast glance at the sofa before turning out the light. He didn't want his silhouette to be seen from outside. Finally, reaching for her coat, purse, and keys, he carried them to the hallway, picked up her suitcase, and went back to the kitchen. There, he only stopped to grab a three liter bottle of Sprite from the refrigerator so that he could give her something to drink.
Just as he closed the door to the refrigerator, a pounding knock came from the front door. He pulled himself into an inlet between the stove and the fridge, planting the suitcase on the floor in front of him.
"Clarice Starling!?" came a deep voice. "Clarice? Open the door!"
'Why does that voice sound painfully familiar?' Hannibal wondered to himself. There was no reason for him to recognize the voice, but he did. Perhaps it was a member of Clarice's once beloved FBI. Someone whom had known her, and whom she'd known.
"Clarice Starling!?"
Hannibal let out a low hiss through his breath, and picked up the suitcase again. There were other shouts coming from outside. He realized it a moment after the voices from outside that apartment door stopped. There were other names being called out. Other doors being pounded on. They weren't there just for Clarice… they were there for the whole tiny community. With a sigh, he slunk his way back to the door, moved through it without closing it, and then bolted the best he could back into the woods.
He made it back to his car, and Clarice, in record time. Ten minutes, and she was looking up at him as he put her suitcase into the trunk, and handed her both her coat and her purse. The keys he'd picked up without thinking about it, he placed in the glove compartment. Now what on earth would she need those for, if she didn't have a car and apartment to use?
"Sorry about that." He murmured. "I ran into a bit of trouble… but it wasn't anything I couldn't have handled."
He saw her face drain of color, and then chuckled.
"The good Dr. got spooked." He confessed to ease her thoughts. Reaching over her shoulder to the cup holder between the two front seats, he pulled out a Duncan Donuts Styrofoam coffee cup, and popped open the bottle of Sprite to pour some of it out. "My dear Clarice, I don't believe they were after you after all. Sounded to me like they were trying to evacuate the entire vicinity. I don't know why, though. Couldn't hear from the kitchen."
"Strange…" she murmured distantly. "But you're all right? There wasn't any… trouble?"
"No, no." He promised. "No trouble at all. Here… have some of this… and please, Clarice. Put your coat on. I'll get your suitcase back out and find you a pair of decent footwear."
He was moving now to keep himself busy. He was talking nonsense, and when he was rummaging through her suitcase, he realized why. For the first time, Hannibal Lecter; Hannibal the Cannibal, was truly anxious and nervous. Truly afraid. Yet it wasn't for his sake. He'd been worried the entire time about Clarice. If he had been caught in her apartment, he knew they would have nailed her for conspiring with a fugitive, or some such nonsense. He'd had several close calls with her tonight, and he didn't like to think about them.
Returning to the car, he moved into the drivers seat so he wouldn't have to crouch down by the passenger door once again. Handing Clarice a pair of black socks, he watched as she took off her slippers, tossed them into the back seat, and rubbed her scraped feet to sooth them. Finally, after taking a sip of the Sprite, she slipped her socks on, shrugged her way into her coat, closed the car door, and buckled her seat belt.
"Let's go." She sighed. "No better time than the present to get as far away here as we possibly can."
He smirked, and started the car. He liked this very, very much. Seeing his Clarice on his side of the law, and seeming to enjoy it as much as he did.
Hannibal picked his way through the woods, not exactly taking his time, but taking care not to make a great deal of noise, or stumble through a covered rabbit or more hole and break his ankle. If he did that, where would Clarice be then? She wouldn't be able to sit there waiting forever, and he knew she would likely come looking for him… but might get more injured herself in the process. It was a particularly dark night, and he damned the clouds that spoke of oncoming thundershowers within the next several hours. If he could just get to Clarice's home, into the door, find her things, and then leave without being noticed, then it would be a blessing. He wasn't looking forward to running into more trouble than they were already in.
It took fifteen minutes for him to reach the back of the apartment complex. He could see that Clarice had left the back door not only unlocked, but open. A faint light sent a sliver of yellow onto the ground in his direction as it filtered into the kitchen from the TV room. Making his way up to the stairs, he paused, held his breath, and looked around. There was no sound coming from inside the apartment. Clarice hadn't been watching her TV that night, and so there was nothing to hear from the other room. No one had entered the house. No one was even near the house.
Letting out his breath, Hannibal tried to open the storm door as quietly as he could. Yet it was very old, and quite rusty. It only opened half a foot before it jammed, but it was enough for him to step into the kitchen. He saw that Clarice had left her suitcase at the foot of the stairs by the front door. He could see it down the hallway from where he stood. Walking stealthily into the other room, he moved over to where the lamp was on in the TV room, and took a fast glance at the sofa before turning out the light. He didn't want his silhouette to be seen from outside. Finally, reaching for her coat, purse, and keys, he carried them to the hallway, picked up her suitcase, and went back to the kitchen. There, he only stopped to grab a three liter bottle of Sprite from the refrigerator so that he could give her something to drink.
Just as he closed the door to the refrigerator, a pounding knock came from the front door. He pulled himself into an inlet between the stove and the fridge, planting the suitcase on the floor in front of him.
"Clarice Starling!?" came a deep voice. "Clarice? Open the door!"
'Why does that voice sound painfully familiar?' Hannibal wondered to himself. There was no reason for him to recognize the voice, but he did. Perhaps it was a member of Clarice's once beloved FBI. Someone whom had known her, and whom she'd known.
"Clarice Starling!?"
Hannibal let out a low hiss through his breath, and picked up the suitcase again. There were other shouts coming from outside. He realized it a moment after the voices from outside that apartment door stopped. There were other names being called out. Other doors being pounded on. They weren't there just for Clarice… they were there for the whole tiny community. With a sigh, he slunk his way back to the door, moved through it without closing it, and then bolted the best he could back into the woods.
He made it back to his car, and Clarice, in record time. Ten minutes, and she was looking up at him as he put her suitcase into the trunk, and handed her both her coat and her purse. The keys he'd picked up without thinking about it, he placed in the glove compartment. Now what on earth would she need those for, if she didn't have a car and apartment to use?
"Sorry about that." He murmured. "I ran into a bit of trouble… but it wasn't anything I couldn't have handled."
He saw her face drain of color, and then chuckled.
"The good Dr. got spooked." He confessed to ease her thoughts. Reaching over her shoulder to the cup holder between the two front seats, he pulled out a Duncan Donuts Styrofoam coffee cup, and popped open the bottle of Sprite to pour some of it out. "My dear Clarice, I don't believe they were after you after all. Sounded to me like they were trying to evacuate the entire vicinity. I don't know why, though. Couldn't hear from the kitchen."
"Strange…" she murmured distantly. "But you're all right? There wasn't any… trouble?"
"No, no." He promised. "No trouble at all. Here… have some of this… and please, Clarice. Put your coat on. I'll get your suitcase back out and find you a pair of decent footwear."
He was moving now to keep himself busy. He was talking nonsense, and when he was rummaging through her suitcase, he realized why. For the first time, Hannibal Lecter; Hannibal the Cannibal, was truly anxious and nervous. Truly afraid. Yet it wasn't for his sake. He'd been worried the entire time about Clarice. If he had been caught in her apartment, he knew they would have nailed her for conspiring with a fugitive, or some such nonsense. He'd had several close calls with her tonight, and he didn't like to think about them.
Returning to the car, he moved into the drivers seat so he wouldn't have to crouch down by the passenger door once again. Handing Clarice a pair of black socks, he watched as she took off her slippers, tossed them into the back seat, and rubbed her scraped feet to sooth them. Finally, after taking a sip of the Sprite, she slipped her socks on, shrugged her way into her coat, closed the car door, and buckled her seat belt.
"Let's go." She sighed. "No better time than the present to get as far away here as we possibly can."
He smirked, and started the car. He liked this very, very much. Seeing his Clarice on his side of the law, and seeming to enjoy it as much as he did.