N/A - Well I still have a writers block, but let's see how this goes (
Chapter 24
The small shabby hotel right by the border to Mexico had almost every room vacant. Very few people ever went there anymore, as the owner was a cantankerous old fool who fired most of his help – and therefore couldn't find help that wanted to be hired by him. And since he didn't like doing menial labor himself, he would sit behind his desk, checking guests in and out of their rooms for outlandish prices, letting the place go to waste. His sister came by once a week to pick up the rooms a little, set traps and spray the place with insecticide. That made each room a place where one might take cat naps for a couple of hours, or sit and watch the basic cable black and white television sets. Yet it was hardly the place one would stay for the night … unless they were illegal aliens who had tried to smuggle themselves over the border and needed a place to hide out.
In room 32 sat a woman practically in middle-age, her straight red hair falling to the small of her back. One strand fell over dark green eyes … and into the hand of a small infant who looked up at her with a scrunched up face. She smiled at him gently, tears stinging her eyes. A man stood behind her at the dressing sink, having himself a shave. He wore khaki pants, and a simple white t-shirt.
"You know it won't be easy running about the world with a baby in tow." He was saying, his metallic voice low, hoarse from what seemed to be an intense emotional pain. "Do you think I actually want to do something like this?"
"Don't expect me to give up my baby." The woman replied in a broken voice. "He's ours. No one else can have him. I won't take the chance of them putting into some orphanage or institution!"
Hannibal looked up at Clarice through the reflections in the mirror before him.
"Do you really think Ardelia would let your baby be taken away from her when you've asked her to care for him?" He asked in a gently scolding voice. "She wouldn't do that, Clarice. She didn't have any choice but to turn you into the F.B.I when you were taken from me. You would have done the same thing had the roles been reversed, and for the same reasons. I think you can trust her with him."
"I will not give up our son, Hannibal." She hissed quietly, standing to place the baby on the bed gently. He was beginning to fall asleep again. "Don't ask me to do it."
Turning, he wiped his hands on a ragged but clean white towel that was folded on the sink, and walked towards her. His eyes were soft, and full of both love and sympathy.
"Clarice… I am only trying to think of him. Don't you know that? About what living with us as fugitives would mean for him."
"It would be better than not knowing the truth about the parents that made him out of love. That gave him life through their love for him and each other."
He sighed, hugging her to him.
"Very well my dear… very well…"
Chapter 24
The small shabby hotel right by the border to Mexico had almost every room vacant. Very few people ever went there anymore, as the owner was a cantankerous old fool who fired most of his help – and therefore couldn't find help that wanted to be hired by him. And since he didn't like doing menial labor himself, he would sit behind his desk, checking guests in and out of their rooms for outlandish prices, letting the place go to waste. His sister came by once a week to pick up the rooms a little, set traps and spray the place with insecticide. That made each room a place where one might take cat naps for a couple of hours, or sit and watch the basic cable black and white television sets. Yet it was hardly the place one would stay for the night … unless they were illegal aliens who had tried to smuggle themselves over the border and needed a place to hide out.
In room 32 sat a woman practically in middle-age, her straight red hair falling to the small of her back. One strand fell over dark green eyes … and into the hand of a small infant who looked up at her with a scrunched up face. She smiled at him gently, tears stinging her eyes. A man stood behind her at the dressing sink, having himself a shave. He wore khaki pants, and a simple white t-shirt.
"You know it won't be easy running about the world with a baby in tow." He was saying, his metallic voice low, hoarse from what seemed to be an intense emotional pain. "Do you think I actually want to do something like this?"
"Don't expect me to give up my baby." The woman replied in a broken voice. "He's ours. No one else can have him. I won't take the chance of them putting into some orphanage or institution!"
Hannibal looked up at Clarice through the reflections in the mirror before him.
"Do you really think Ardelia would let your baby be taken away from her when you've asked her to care for him?" He asked in a gently scolding voice. "She wouldn't do that, Clarice. She didn't have any choice but to turn you into the F.B.I when you were taken from me. You would have done the same thing had the roles been reversed, and for the same reasons. I think you can trust her with him."
"I will not give up our son, Hannibal." She hissed quietly, standing to place the baby on the bed gently. He was beginning to fall asleep again. "Don't ask me to do it."
Turning, he wiped his hands on a ragged but clean white towel that was folded on the sink, and walked towards her. His eyes were soft, and full of both love and sympathy.
"Clarice… I am only trying to think of him. Don't you know that? About what living with us as fugitives would mean for him."
"It would be better than not knowing the truth about the parents that made him out of love. That gave him life through their love for him and each other."
He sighed, hugging her to him.
"Very well my dear… very well…"