Chapter Four

When Clarice Starling arrived home that day, she knew it would be the last time for a long time. As her new tutor, Dr. Lecter was adamant on beginning her lessons as soon as possible, thus nearly forbade her to leave his presence long enough to return to her duplex and collect the bare essentials. After engaging in a minor though almost amusing verbal toss, he conceded and allowed her leave. While she was sure he would never admit it, she could tell the prospect of this project had sparked his interest, and daresay, he was looking forward to it.

She was now conflicted with mixed feelings about this man. It seemed impossible that she had awoken only that morning fueled with resentment and hate that almost rivaled the wealth of negativity she felt for Paul Krendler. And, truthfully, though her opinion of him had escalated very little from their recent toss; she sensed a change in him. A struggle. What she saw she knew he had allowed her to see. There was a measure of intelligence behind his otherwise condescending eyes, as well as compassion.

She had the uncomfortable suspicion that she could grow to like him.

It was odd for her to meet someone built on wills that battled her own fortitude. Starling had had the displeasure of knowing many people, people who talked big but cowered when challenged to put their words to action. Battles of principles easily conceded, points fluently proven. That was part of her problem, she estimated, in dealing with her so-called superiors at Quantico. People like Krendler had no true backbone, they stole words from other's lips all the while contriving on thoughts that would never be original. And yet she couldn't react in the way she so desired. She couldn't scream her fury and storm away.

Perhaps you don't manage your rage.

Dr. Lecter had a great deal of self-control, and his wills challenged her own.

There was something about him, something ruthless but munificent, malicious but benign. He was very contradictory, and she found that fascinating, despite how much it complicated things.

She was still sore about the comments he made the night before, and his words at his abode had been far from friendly. Perhaps he was trying to decide about her just as she was struggling with her opinion of him.

When Starling pushed open the door, the first thing she saw was Ardelia Mapp standing in the entryway, cordless phone coiled in one hand; both arms folded across her chest. The only feature that would make the picture more complete would be an impatiently tapping foot, but alas, it was stationary on the ground.

"Ardelia," she greeted with a nod, not reacting to her rather extravagant body language.

"Where have you been, girl?" The shortness in her friend's tone was frigid enough to suggest that Starling had been missing for days rather than hours. It humored her for the implied double standard. She could recall many nights that she spent waiting for Mapp to return from one of her numerous outings. It must be nice to have a social life.

"Out."

"Well obviously. Where? It's not like you to blow off class."

"I'm going away for a while, Ardelia." She said it casually, easily, as though announcing she had bought a new dress. As Mapp processed this information, Starling decided to leave it at that, moving passed her and to the staircase. It occurred to her that she might be overdue for a break away from her friend as well.

Finally, her friend found her voice, and it projected as she turned though Starling wasn't facing her. "Going away? Where? For how long?"

"Six months. To this doctor's house."

"Six months?!" Mapp exclaimed in disbelief. "What about school? What about graduation? Who are you and what did you do with my best friend?"

At the top of the landing now, Starling paused and glanced downward, shrugging simply. "I'm not graduating this year anyway. You and I both know that. Let's face it, 'Delia, I've had the year from hell. Now, wanna come up here and help me pick out a few things? I gotta back pretty damn soon."

"Who's this doctor?" she replied, ignoring the inquiry. "And why the fuck did he suddenly become so important?"

Starling smiled at that, a smile provoked from dry humor and her own bewilderment. "You'll never believe it. Remember that guy we met last night?"

"We met loads of guys last night."

"The one who wasn't drunk."

There was a brief silence as Mapp hooked the pieces together. After a minute, her eyes widened with incredulity and she looked up in shock, shaking her head. "No way, girl. That old bastard? After those things he said to you?" She broke to consider, a frown creasing her brow. "How did he find you, anyhow?"

"He didn't. I found him."

"What!" The level of skepticism in her friend's voice was steadily ascending, but Starling wasn't in the mood to argue her point or validation in ignoring this home stretch. The longer she stayed, the more she craved escape. Still, that hardly hampered Mapp's flamboyant opinion from becoming heard and repeated several times. "Why on God's green earth would you go try to find that—"

"He said he could help me, didn't he?" Starling cut her off coldly before turning to cover the tracks into her bedchamber. "Only appealing offer I've gotten lately."

Mapp said something but she didn't catch it. Her mind caught up with her and flustered. Despite justification, had she just defended the arrogant prick? Just because she didn't hate him as much as she did this morning didn't make them best pals. More likely she was protecting her scathed esteem. Either way, it was best not to think about it.

"Wait a sec. Hold yer horses." The voice was behind her now, softer. After a minute, Starling conceded and turned. "Is this about that duchess thing? Was that what he said? Don't tell me you—"

"It's complicated, Ardelia," she replied with a sigh. She knew in advance that her friend wouldn't be satisfied with that explanation, and puffed out her cheeks to continue. "Believe me, doing this crazy thing was the last thing on my mind when I woke up this morning. I dragged my ass out of bed at five am, went out for my jog…" As though the answer to her radical decision lay in the morning routine, Starling blinked and started a slow recap, though she knew not for whose benefit. "Then that dick, Krendler, came up to me at lunch…and, I can't explain it…something snapped. I found Lecter's name in the phone book and paid him a visit." She released a long sigh. "I'm going to be recycled anyway, and Lecter says he can help me cope with all this bullshit next year. Whether I believe him or not is a different story, but goddammit, 'Delia, I gotta try something."

"But the man's a fucking asshole, Starling!" Mapp argued in astonishment. "What about that shit he said to you last night? I understand you needing to turn to someone…but why this man? Why not share these thoughts with Jack Crawford or someone and see what—"

"Listen to yourself. Listen to what you just said."

There was a pause. At last, her friend huffed out a breath of agreement and nodded her defeat. "All right, all right. So Crawford's not the best alternative. So he got you into this mess to begin with. That doesn't make this Lecter guy any more reliable. He's probably some old pervert who's looking to rob a cradle. You know what he said to you—"

"Girl, do you even remember what he said to me last night?" Starling knew she didn't. No one could remember much of anything when they were as drunk as Mapp was.

"…No," she admitted a minute later. "I just know it wasn't nice."

"It was true. That's what made me upset. It was true. He knew it somehow."

"So what now? You go and beg him to reform you? That's all he wanted you to do, girl. What if it's all a scam?"

Starling shook her head, absently tossing her brush into an overnight bag. "It's not. It can't be. I'm not paying for anything. The only thing I'm losing is six months that I would waste anyway."

Mapp blinked. "What do you mean, you're not paying for nothing?"

"It's a bet. He and his friend have a bet that he can't do it." Her attentions withdrew again, but there wasn't much to collect. A few gismos here or there, but overall, Dr. Lecter insisted that she let him handle things such as her wardrobe. Fleetingly, Starling wondered if she could sneak a CD or two passed what promised to be a hefty inspection when she returned. All in all, odds fell against her favor. Well, to hell with it. Though there were certain things she was willing to concede, she was and would always be a Beatles fan. "Lecter has six months to make me a duchess, or else he's out all expenses."

"Are you sure he's not just trying to get into your pants?"

The notion was at first amusing then utterly ridiculous. Starling chuckled, shaking her head. "I'll tell you what, Sis," she said thoughtfully. "I'll admit I don't know him well, but what I saw from last night and this afternoon…he's a far cry from Krendler. High ratings in my book. Something tells me he'd consider that rude."

"Then why aren't you packing any clothes?"

"It's a part of the experiment," she replied, zipping the overnight bag, secured with a few discs to accommodate her musical preference. Though she had nothing against the classics, she was certain that listening to Beethoven and Mozart twenty-four/seven would eventually earn the rights to the good old days of sex, drugs, and rock'n'roll. "He picks my clothes. He picks damn near everything, and teaches me to like it."

"So you're his dog?"

"Hardly," Starling retorted dryly. "Maybe 'like' was the wrong word. It's more…cope with it. You have to do a lot of things in life that you don't like, per say. Putting up with shit at school is one of them. I figure: if I get through the next six months, even if it is on the skin of my teeth, I can do anything." Cynically, she used her free fist to lightly pound her chest. "I am Wonder Woman, hear me roar."

"He'll have you wearing fishnets and garter belts before you can say 'Who's your uncle,'" Mapp predicted. "What's he got to lose? An old fogie who'll have you under his roof for that long… Welcome to the world of g-strings, my friend."

Starling snickered as she heaved her bag over her shoulder. "Whatever." Then, without any conventional end, she started for the door, paused at the threshold, and turned back. "Listen, I gotta run. Told him I wouldn't take too long."

As though in defeat, Mapp heaved out a sigh. "What do I tell Crawford?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

"He'll come looking for you."

"Hah! That'll be the day."

"Seriously, girl…he's got it bad for you. And, I know you don't believe this, but he feels like shit for putting you through that crap, despite the fact that he's a creep. If you don't show for school, he'll flip."

Starling grinned humorlessly. "In that case, tell him I'm staying with a sexy older man for the next few months to gain a bit of maturity. Also tell him that I didn't pack anything. I need all the experience I can get. See how wide his eyes get."

That perked her friend's brow, and before long they were both giggling madly. The laughter seemed repressed, almost forced, but neither could stop. Mapp started turning interesting shades of red, hunched over and holding her stomach. It was a slaphappy moment, neatly unprovoked but she needed it still.

"You know…I think he'd give himself an ulcer," Mapp decided between chuckles, finally regaining control. "And I will, Starling. Mark my word, I will tell him that very thing."

"You do so, 'Delia."

Once more, the laughing mood dwindled and things became serious again. Perhaps a bit more understanding, they shared a long look, Mapp nodding with a kind smile. "When will I see you again?"

"Hell if I know," Starling replied, puffing out another breath. "I'm sure phone calls are not out of the question."

"Sure as hell better not be. I'll come hunt the bastard down."

She smiled. "Bye Ardelia. Have a happy graduation."

The walls began to constrict, and before farewells could extend any further, she turned and left, just like that. She couldn't afford to waste more time, for both her welfare and Mapp's. In the duration of their schooling, as long as she could remember—or as far as she cared to remember—they hadn't spent more than a couple nights apart. Such memories she wanted to preserve.

Memories she would take with her now. Premature as it was, her leave almost felt final. Perhaps a lasting goodbye to the Clarice she had come to know over the years. A Clarice that let people like Jack Crawford and Paul Krendler walk all over her without speaking up. A Clarice who dealt with prejudices by opening her smart yap and getting herself into trouble, otherwise growing bitter and chilled with age.

When she was out of the duplex completely, Starling indulged her lungs in a gulp of fresh air. Whatever she told her friend didn't matter, whether for the truth or the implication of truth. The fact remained that she needed the time off, regardless of the consequences.

Something told her this was something to look forward to.

In the end, saying goodbye to this place was easy. Easier than she thought it would be. After all, six months wasn't forever.


* * *



It was quite possibly the first time to his memory that Dr. Lecter did not have the stage perfectly set. The dice were in his possession, he knew, as was the board with all the players. However, whichever way they fell was an entirely separate matter. In his career, he had adapted the keen ability of foreseeing the outcome of whatever event or complication that he might happen across. Now in the position of not knowing where the dice would fall, should they tumble off the table or remain smoothly in his grasp made him unsure if he was entirely comfortable with the proposition. However, there was an undeniably exciting air about it. Something new and riveting.

Change. Mmm, change.

Perhaps this was because his new protégé was so unpredictable herself. Though he did not know her terribly well, her mannerisms that morning proved that much. Showing up unannounced on his doorstep had an audacious, determined flavor about it. Not to mention the way she conducted herself in his presence; partially distracted but never straying from the ultimate goal. Never before had he met anyone so slippery. She was very intelligent, even if she didn't realize it. Dr. Lecter suspected that she had many qualities that had yet to be discovered, and as eager as he was to enlighten her, he would allow her to believe what she wanted for the time being. With Starling, he had the notion that the last thing he wanted, or would ultimately want, was to engage in battle with her. When a lion cub discovers its strength, it becomes a potential adversary, and the impending conclusion of that battle was nothing to look forward to.

Even before beginning their first session, Dr. Lecter recognized that her aptitude and wit served as an enemy, mostly for her youth. From their limited encounters, he could determine why her male peers found her such a threat, thus proving both her stamina and the cheap material these associates were made of.

She had spunk. A lot of it.

And he had her to himself for six months.

Dr. Lecter smiled.

His young novice was thirty minutes out to collect last-minute necessities. Evidently, when she arrived that morning, she was unprepared for the implication that becoming his student meant harsher living accommodations, as well as constant supervision. After all, how was she to learn anything if she spent the day with him and went back to the barracks, undoubtedly rooming with that loud-mouthed bad-example he had met the night before? No, no, that wouldn't do. He needed her here if this project were to be successful.

A familiar scent entered the room. The doctor did not react to it, rather keeping still at his desk, returning to an old favorite from his neglected library. If anything, this break from work would allow him to refresh the great classics. He doubted very much that Starling was acquainted with the teachings of Marcus Aurelius. It would be a pleasure to introduce them to her and savor the reaction of liberated youth.

"Dr. Lecter?"

"Come in, Barney." He didn't look up.

"Doc," his guest said, taking a few steps inward and stopping just shy of the designer coffee table in the middle of the room. Dr. Lecter's office was large and moderate, composed of a mini-library to offset the more elaborate chamber down the hall. It was one of his favorite rooms, thus while he maintained the professional façade, he also successfully made it homey enough to transform into a parlor if needed. "I got something on my mind."

Finally, Dr. Lecter glanced up, smiling kindly. "Of course. Sit, if you like."

"No…this won't take long."

"Very well. What may I do for you?"

There was a moment of silence and he watched his friend contort to find exactly what it was he was trying to say. Barney was a delight for many reasons—his courtesy and candor, and his insistence that everyone feel comfortable while around him. Undoubtedly, his inquiry dealt with their new, albeit strange situation. "Doc…forgive the bluntness," he said slowly, manifestly careworn about his words. "But I've been thinking, and if I'm to be in this business, I feel kinda responsible for the bird. I don't think that you would, but I wanna be sure that it's clearly understood that no advantage will be taken of her position."

Dr. Lecter blinked and grinned tightly to himself. He would have been offended if he weren't so amused. The uncomfortable temperament of his friend made the situation comically arousing, and he found no room to feel annoyed. "Sacred, I assure you. No advantage whatsoever."

"I guess it's safe to say you're a man of good character where women are concerned?"

The doctor barked a laugh of interest. "My friend, have you ever met a man of good character where women are concerned?"

Barney frowned and nodded. "Yes…quite a few."

"I assure you that you have not," Dr. Lecter disagreed, closing his book at last. "Myself, however, I am a man who desires nothing more than a mere opportunity to live exactly as he likes and do precisely what he wants. In my experience, letting a woman in your life coincides with snapping your serenity in two. She'll redecorate your home from the cellar to the dome. Then go on to the enthralling fun of overhauling you. Let a woman in your life and you're up against a wall. You want to talk of Keats or Milton. She only wants to talk of love. She will beg you for advice. Your reply will be concise and she will listen very nicely then go out and do whatever it is that she wants. My social companions in the past have been courtly but brief, each a replica of the other. I have no time for such foolishness."

"Not the bird, though," Barney noted casually. "She's a replica of no one."

"No no…" he agreed, almost fondly, as though remembering something pleasant. "Not the bird."

"Something about her?"

"We will see, won't we?"

His friend nodded. "No advantage?"

"Barney," Dr. Lecter lightly admonished, knowing he would need to say nothing more. The accusation was at first charming but it bordered now on annoyance. He was not a man accustomed to being charged of potentially behaving in any fashion other than gentlemanly where women—or any other genre, for that matter—were concerned.

Nodding, Barney's eyes dropped, ashamed he had to ask. Still, despite the frustration, his courtesy and fervor for Starling to make the best of this potentially unnerving situation would not go ignored. "Sorry, Doc…I just had to make sure. Clear conscience, you know."

"Of course."

"When will she get back? You know?"

Dr. Lecter shook his head. "I told her that I wanted to begin her sessions rather quickly, but bidding adieu to her life as she knows it for the next half year will not be easy for her. We should not expect too much today."

"The life she described?"

He nodded with a smile. "How very astute, Barney, but it is still all she knows."

"Not for long though."

"For your sake, I hope so," Dr. Lecter noted. "You placed quite a wager against me."

Barney laughed, tension visibly draining from his face. Likewise, his body language softened and became more relaxed. Obviously, the inquiry had not been an easy one to make, and for good reason. Though such an occurrence was rare now, Dr. Lecter was known for a brutal temper once he lost his patience. Controlled and stately, but brutal.

The doorbell rang. Unlike earlier that day, the doctor seemed more than willing himself to answer it, rising to his feet. However, he stilled as Mrs. Pearce tended to her post, always nearer to the entry than he was, regardless of her location in the manor. It was a part of what made her such an adept housekeeper, as well as busybody. Quieted chatting in the entry and Starling was directed to the study. When she entered, the pretensions fell as if cued. She seemed to have that affect.

"Clarice Starling to see you, Dr. Lecter," Mrs. Pearce announced before drifting away again, most likely to her reliable eavesdropping post outside the door.

For a minute there was nothing. Starling met his eyes immediately and held his gaze. Eyes locked again in exchange. All the dialogue needed for a hello or farewell passed through the charismatic practice of less conventional techniques. Never before had he met anyone as skilled in the art as he.

He was continuously impressed with her.

"I trust everything has been taken care of?" he asked a minute later.

Starling nodded. "I talked to Ardelia…she understands. As long as I can call her every now and then."

"Certainly. And your friends at the Bureau? Your courses? Have you spoken with your mentors?"

"No." She sighed heavily. "And, truth be told, I'd rather not."

His head tilted curiously. "Are you sure that is wise? I doubt very much that your instructors take kindly to students who play hooky."

"Crawford'll come looking for me. I'd rather have Ardelia give him my message than call in." At that, she smiled, more at herself. Secretive, distant…the cat that ate the canary.

Though his expression did not change, Dr. Lecter grinned inwardly. Ties to that corruption were being tested already. So much progress for the first day, even without the expected, conservative lesson. He was going to enjoy this.

But she didn't need to know that.