Reunion
Five months. She couldn't believe it had been five months already. So much had happened since his departure that Clarice found it hard to keep track of the days that seemed to fly by as a blur.
" Dammit!"
Clarice held her now red thumb to her mouth, gently sucking it as she glared at the fallen hammer at her feet. Shaking her head in resignation she made her way to the kitchen, flicking the switch on the kettle on the way to one of the high backed breakfasting chairs. Sitting down she mulled over the days events.
To combat another day of sheer boredom, as was the usual these days since her resignation to the F.B.I, she had decided to put up a few pictures that had been lying around in dusty closets since she had moved to her new home. Glancing down the hallway she could see the pictures lying in the same position she had left them in this morning, and a small black hole in the wall was the only evidence that she had bothered trying to put them up in the first place. It seemed that even trying to do the most mundane of tasks these days was impossible. Anything that needed a few brain cells of concentration seemed fruitless as it didn't take long for her mind to slip to more interesting, or, she corrected herself more frightening thoughts.
Going about the comfortably familiar process of making a cup of coffee helped her relax a little, and grabbing a few biscuits from the cupboard above her head she headed to the living room. There were still some boxes lying around and she made her way around the obstacle course before finally collapsing with a winded puff in her favourite armchair. Bringing her feet up and under her she sipped at the still too hot coffee and glanced around the room. She was quite impressed with herself she had to admit. While it was true she was no interior designer, she had made good use of the space and light in the wide room. While it was also true, decorating was not her favourite pastime; she found it a welcome distraction in the waking hours. Letting her eyes slip closed, she felt the warm steam from her cup leave tiny droplets of water on her cheeks. Of course no sooner had she closed her eyes, they were suddenly open again, the flash of the face she saw every night in her dreams enough to set her moving again. Standing she quickly swallowed the remnants of her cup and began to move boxes to their proper rooms.
It was well after midnight when she felt her body scream in protest, and deciding she would listen for once she made her way to the bathroom and turned the faucets on full spray. Quickly discarding herself of her sticky clothes she stepped under the powerful water and closed her eyes. It was at these times, when she was physically and mentally exhausted from a day of denial that her mind freely wandered. She found herself listening to the thoughts that were in her head, replaying scenes gone by and letting her feelings spring to the surface. It was no use fighting them she thought grimly, they would come in her sleep anyway. Stepping quickly out of the heated shower she wrapped a large soft towel around herself and squeezed the residue water from her hair. Walking the short distance to her bedroom she sat in front of the mirror on her dressing table and regarded herself.
" All you would need for that Clarice.is a mirrorrrr."
Blinking her eyes closed she instantly repressed the words from her mind and went about her usual ritual of getting ready for bed.
Chapter 2
Although she was no longer a special agent for the F.B.I, some habits were hard to break. One of the annoying habits was waking up at exactly quarter past six every morning, no matter what time she had gotten to bed. Stretching the kinks from her tired muscles Clarice made her way to the bathroom to get dressed. Quickly brushing her teeth and pulling a brush through her hair, she made her way to her front steps and took a deep breath of the crisp morning air. Starting her usual route she jogged gently past her new neighbours houses, affording a glance here and there. The park was one of the reasons she had decided on the house. It was a decent size and had several tracks through the main forest, and picking up her pace she made her way to one of them, enjoying the fresh air and gentle protest from her still sleepy muscles.
Slowing her pace as she re-entered her street, Clarice levelled her breathing and enjoyed the slight sting of her over worked lungs. She felt a million times better and ready to start the day. The thought alone took some of the enthusiasm from her, as she imagined another day sitting at home, trying not to think about, well trying not to think at all was her goal. Walking up the path she fished her keys from her pocket and slipped them in the lock. Pushing the door open she scooped up her mail and made her way to the kitchen, dropping her keys on the small table to her right. Still slightly panting she deposited her mail on the pine table that filled most of the large kitchen and flicked the switch on the kettle. Placing one hand on the marble effect worktop she reached down and grabbed her left ankle with the other, bringing it up behind her, stretching her muscles to avoid cramp. Glancing over to the mail, she sighed at the thought of opening it, wondering briefly who it was this time that was going to pay her fortunes to tell her story. She was relieved when the kettle signalled its work done with a small click, and hastily made her way to it, pouring herself a strong cup of coffee. Taking it in both hands she pulled out a chair and sat it to the side, regarding the numerous envelopes that stared at her. Sighing she picked the small bundle up and started flicking through them, mumbling as she went.
" Bill, bill, junk, bill, junk, flyer, ……" her breathing hitched in her throat as she regarded the last in the pile. Quickly dropping it to the table she felt her head go a little lighter and her pulse jump to something that wasn't healthy.
The cream envelope wasn't what scared her, nor was the elegant way her name was scrolled across the front. It was the lack of a stamp that caused her eyes to shoot around the kitchen. Feeling a beat of sweat tickle her eye, she quickly left her spot and bolted to the front door, jamming the bolt across, just as quickly she ran to the back door and repeated the process. Standing with her back to the door she looked back to the table, where the envelope seemed to beckon her. Walking on slightly trembling legs she made her way back to the seat and sat down with a heavy thud. Staring at it for a moment she hesitantly touched the name written across the front. Trailing her fingers over it she felt the slight rise and fall of the letters as they had been scrolled. Picking it up she turned it around seeing the now recognisable blood red wax that sealed the thick paper. A rush of memory's caused her to drop the letter once more as she was suddenly sitting back in her basement holding the very same piece of evidence. Snapping herself quickly out of it, she picked up the letter once more, turning it around and slowly peeling the wax away. She couldn't stop the hammering in her chest, nor the shaking of her hands as she folded the paper back, revealing a folded piece of fine parchment. Ever so slowly she withdrew the letter, placing the envelope to the side and sitting the letter in front of her, running her fingers over its fine grain. She couldn't describe the feelings she was experiencing at the moment. The part of her that was still and probably would always remain with the F.B.I was screaming danger, flashing red warning signs in her mind. The part of her that she feared most, the part that looked forward to meeting him in her dreams was abuzz with excitement and anxiety. Running her hands over the paper once more she gently unfolded, running her palms over the writing, smoothing the creases. Her breath hitched in her throat again when her eyes were drawn to the signature at the bottom first. Forcing her eyes to the top of the page she began to read the elegant script.
Dear Clarice,
Following your recent change in career, I found I couldn't resist the urge to once again speak with you. My brave Clarice, finally cutting the strings of the masters that dangles you in front of me. Or what is a case of forced resignation? Either way it doesn't matter Clarice, you are now and forever free from the web of conspiracy and greed.
How do you feel now Clarice? I can imagine you sitting in your new home, plagued with thoughts of regret and feelings of anticipation for your future. Fear not little starling, you are a warrior, and your true path in this life with unfold to you shortly. Until then enjoy your newfound freedom, you deserve it.
I know that after reading this you will begin an inward struggle over whether or not you should hand this letter over to the F.B.I. I leave the decision in your capable hands Clarice, but I know already what your decision will be. Is this because you don't want the unwanted attention from your friends at the bureau? Or is it something more personnel than that? Either way I'm sure you'll entertain thoughts into the early hours.
Our last meeting, which lead to the demise of our Mr Krendler, ended rather abruptly. I would have liked more time to speak with you Clarice, but alas it was not to be. Hopefully this time around, we will have the chance.
For now I bid you peaceful dreams Clarice, but I know you wont find them tonight.
Your old pal
Hannibal Lecter M.D
Clarice re-read the letter several times before she laid it to rest on the smooth top of the pine table. The thought of handing the letter in came and went as he had said it would. Standing slowly she walked into her living room and settled into her armchair, looking out the window. He was obviously planning something that was clear in the letter; Clarice shuddered at the thought of meeting him again. What was also apparent was the fact that he was close by, probably watching her. The thought didn't make her as nervous as it should she thought. Standing once more she looked around the room, her eyes falling on a box sitting in the corner. Walking over to it she removed the folded flag from the top and reached inside, feeling her hand slip around the comforting cold metal of the .45. Looking down at the new extension to her arm, she almost laughed at herself. There was no was she would ever use it, but he would expect no less.
" Let the games begin" she whispered to the empty room.
Chapter 3
She found that she couldn't stop looking over her shoulder and it was beginning to annoy even her, and the teenage shelf-packers if the glares where anything to go by. It was the second time she had disturbed a product display in the last twenty minutes from not looking where she was going. Sighing she decided to concentrate on the grocery list in her hand, she would end up going banana's if she didn't stop being so paranoid. It had been three days since the letter had been hand posted through her door, and she could say with true conviction that she had had about seven hours sleep within them. Stifling a yawn, which caused her eyes to water, she made her way quickly to the checkout, unpacking her items onto the moving counter. There were several angry stares from the people behind her, which glancing up to the hanging sign, realised was because she was standing in the ten items or less queue. Sending an apologetic smile to the angry patrons she inwardly slapped herself. " Get a grip girl," she said under her breath. While waiting for the seventeen year old girl who was chewing too much gum pass her items lazily through the checkout Clarice started a mental argument with herself, her eyes fixed somewhere over the girls shoulder.
" Ok girl, you have got to stop this. He could just be playing games with you; you know how much he enjoys that. But he's in town, he has to be, the letter was hand posted. Yeah ok, so he's in town, he's playing games, but your playing into his hands. He'll be watching you fuss over this, enjoying the way you look over your shoulder every five seconds. See! You just did it again! Stop it! Ok calm down. I have to stop this, I'll just start acting like this doesn't bother me and maybe he'll get bored and go away. Yeah right."
" I said that'll be 32.95 mam."
Snapping out of her inward argument she regarded the pimple faced girl who was staring at her with a 'duh' expression on her face. Clarice looked up to the electronic screen and realised that she was waiting for money. Giving another small smile when she heard the tuts and whispers from behind her she quickly fished in her bag for her purse. Of course having a gun, mace, handcuffs and all her usual junk made the easy task a little more difficult. Clarice could feel the red starting to creep up her face when she realised that her purse wasn't in the bag. Sheer panic flooded her for a moment, then settled on a solid state of embarrassment. This was the perfect end to her day, what the hell else can happen, she thought grimly. Glancing up to the cashier she took a deep breath.
" I seem to have forgotten my purse. I-I-I'm really sorry, truly. Is there anyway that you can keep these to the side and I'll run over the cash machine?"
" Please, allow me Clarice"
The velvet voice that came from behind her caused her heart to simply stop beating. Staring straight ahead at the cashier she saw the hand come over her shoulder with a crisp hundred-dollar bill neatly folded between two fingers. Clarice was convinced that her heart would never beat again when she heard the familiar voice close to her ear.
" Lets get these bags in the car hmm?"
Clarice quickly looked back at the now long queue behind her, her eyes travelling over the faces of the people, looking for any sign of recognition or suspect. All she saw where the blank, angry stares aimed in her direction. Grabbing hold of her handbag tightly in one hand she slowly turned around, her heart doing the opposite to what it had done earlier. She was sure he could hear it hammering. He was wearing a rich dark navy suit, with a white fedora; a pair of slightly tinted glasses completed his elegant disguise. Staring at each other for what seemed like an eternity, a polite cough from the cashier caused him to look back to her.
" Your change Sir" the young girl drawled, popping her gum.
Clarice watched his every move, the way he leaned over her to collect his change meant she could smell his expensive cologne. The boy at the end of the aisle had neatly packed her shopping into large brown paper bags and they sat in her trolley waiting to be picked up. Smiling a half smile he crossed his arm in front of him, motioning her to go in front. Numbly she obliged, her feet stubborn at first but eventually doing as she wanted. She walked to the end of the aisle and he motioned her to pick up the bags. This surprised her, he was always the gentleman and she would have thought he would have taken the burden of the bags, but she could see the reasoning behind it. He wanted her hands full. Walking numbly towards her car she jumped when she felt a warm hand on the small of her back, guiding her to the back of her black Taurus.
" Excuse Me," he said with a wink and she shuddered when he slipped his hand into her trouser pocket to pull out her car keys. With a flick of the wrist the boot opened and she was glad to dump the bags inside, the strain of standing upright at the moment was enough without the added wait of her shopping.
Closing the boot with a resounding bang that made her jump again he regarded her with an amused smile.
" Clarice, as eager as I am to speak with you, I hardly think a car park is the ideal setting. Why don't you get in the car and I'll tell you the plans."
Without loosing eyes contact she made her way to the drivers side and slipped in, before she had a chance to formulate a thought the passenger door opened and he slipped inside, handing her the keys.
Five months. She couldn't believe it had been five months already. So much had happened since his departure that Clarice found it hard to keep track of the days that seemed to fly by as a blur.
" Dammit!"
Clarice held her now red thumb to her mouth, gently sucking it as she glared at the fallen hammer at her feet. Shaking her head in resignation she made her way to the kitchen, flicking the switch on the kettle on the way to one of the high backed breakfasting chairs. Sitting down she mulled over the days events.
To combat another day of sheer boredom, as was the usual these days since her resignation to the F.B.I, she had decided to put up a few pictures that had been lying around in dusty closets since she had moved to her new home. Glancing down the hallway she could see the pictures lying in the same position she had left them in this morning, and a small black hole in the wall was the only evidence that she had bothered trying to put them up in the first place. It seemed that even trying to do the most mundane of tasks these days was impossible. Anything that needed a few brain cells of concentration seemed fruitless as it didn't take long for her mind to slip to more interesting, or, she corrected herself more frightening thoughts.
Going about the comfortably familiar process of making a cup of coffee helped her relax a little, and grabbing a few biscuits from the cupboard above her head she headed to the living room. There were still some boxes lying around and she made her way around the obstacle course before finally collapsing with a winded puff in her favourite armchair. Bringing her feet up and under her she sipped at the still too hot coffee and glanced around the room. She was quite impressed with herself she had to admit. While it was true she was no interior designer, she had made good use of the space and light in the wide room. While it was also true, decorating was not her favourite pastime; she found it a welcome distraction in the waking hours. Letting her eyes slip closed, she felt the warm steam from her cup leave tiny droplets of water on her cheeks. Of course no sooner had she closed her eyes, they were suddenly open again, the flash of the face she saw every night in her dreams enough to set her moving again. Standing she quickly swallowed the remnants of her cup and began to move boxes to their proper rooms.
It was well after midnight when she felt her body scream in protest, and deciding she would listen for once she made her way to the bathroom and turned the faucets on full spray. Quickly discarding herself of her sticky clothes she stepped under the powerful water and closed her eyes. It was at these times, when she was physically and mentally exhausted from a day of denial that her mind freely wandered. She found herself listening to the thoughts that were in her head, replaying scenes gone by and letting her feelings spring to the surface. It was no use fighting them she thought grimly, they would come in her sleep anyway. Stepping quickly out of the heated shower she wrapped a large soft towel around herself and squeezed the residue water from her hair. Walking the short distance to her bedroom she sat in front of the mirror on her dressing table and regarded herself.
" All you would need for that Clarice.is a mirrorrrr."
Blinking her eyes closed she instantly repressed the words from her mind and went about her usual ritual of getting ready for bed.
Chapter 2
Although she was no longer a special agent for the F.B.I, some habits were hard to break. One of the annoying habits was waking up at exactly quarter past six every morning, no matter what time she had gotten to bed. Stretching the kinks from her tired muscles Clarice made her way to the bathroom to get dressed. Quickly brushing her teeth and pulling a brush through her hair, she made her way to her front steps and took a deep breath of the crisp morning air. Starting her usual route she jogged gently past her new neighbours houses, affording a glance here and there. The park was one of the reasons she had decided on the house. It was a decent size and had several tracks through the main forest, and picking up her pace she made her way to one of them, enjoying the fresh air and gentle protest from her still sleepy muscles.
Slowing her pace as she re-entered her street, Clarice levelled her breathing and enjoyed the slight sting of her over worked lungs. She felt a million times better and ready to start the day. The thought alone took some of the enthusiasm from her, as she imagined another day sitting at home, trying not to think about, well trying not to think at all was her goal. Walking up the path she fished her keys from her pocket and slipped them in the lock. Pushing the door open she scooped up her mail and made her way to the kitchen, dropping her keys on the small table to her right. Still slightly panting she deposited her mail on the pine table that filled most of the large kitchen and flicked the switch on the kettle. Placing one hand on the marble effect worktop she reached down and grabbed her left ankle with the other, bringing it up behind her, stretching her muscles to avoid cramp. Glancing over to the mail, she sighed at the thought of opening it, wondering briefly who it was this time that was going to pay her fortunes to tell her story. She was relieved when the kettle signalled its work done with a small click, and hastily made her way to it, pouring herself a strong cup of coffee. Taking it in both hands she pulled out a chair and sat it to the side, regarding the numerous envelopes that stared at her. Sighing she picked the small bundle up and started flicking through them, mumbling as she went.
" Bill, bill, junk, bill, junk, flyer, ……" her breathing hitched in her throat as she regarded the last in the pile. Quickly dropping it to the table she felt her head go a little lighter and her pulse jump to something that wasn't healthy.
The cream envelope wasn't what scared her, nor was the elegant way her name was scrolled across the front. It was the lack of a stamp that caused her eyes to shoot around the kitchen. Feeling a beat of sweat tickle her eye, she quickly left her spot and bolted to the front door, jamming the bolt across, just as quickly she ran to the back door and repeated the process. Standing with her back to the door she looked back to the table, where the envelope seemed to beckon her. Walking on slightly trembling legs she made her way back to the seat and sat down with a heavy thud. Staring at it for a moment she hesitantly touched the name written across the front. Trailing her fingers over it she felt the slight rise and fall of the letters as they had been scrolled. Picking it up she turned it around seeing the now recognisable blood red wax that sealed the thick paper. A rush of memory's caused her to drop the letter once more as she was suddenly sitting back in her basement holding the very same piece of evidence. Snapping herself quickly out of it, she picked up the letter once more, turning it around and slowly peeling the wax away. She couldn't stop the hammering in her chest, nor the shaking of her hands as she folded the paper back, revealing a folded piece of fine parchment. Ever so slowly she withdrew the letter, placing the envelope to the side and sitting the letter in front of her, running her fingers over its fine grain. She couldn't describe the feelings she was experiencing at the moment. The part of her that was still and probably would always remain with the F.B.I was screaming danger, flashing red warning signs in her mind. The part of her that she feared most, the part that looked forward to meeting him in her dreams was abuzz with excitement and anxiety. Running her hands over the paper once more she gently unfolded, running her palms over the writing, smoothing the creases. Her breath hitched in her throat again when her eyes were drawn to the signature at the bottom first. Forcing her eyes to the top of the page she began to read the elegant script.
Dear Clarice,
Following your recent change in career, I found I couldn't resist the urge to once again speak with you. My brave Clarice, finally cutting the strings of the masters that dangles you in front of me. Or what is a case of forced resignation? Either way it doesn't matter Clarice, you are now and forever free from the web of conspiracy and greed.
How do you feel now Clarice? I can imagine you sitting in your new home, plagued with thoughts of regret and feelings of anticipation for your future. Fear not little starling, you are a warrior, and your true path in this life with unfold to you shortly. Until then enjoy your newfound freedom, you deserve it.
I know that after reading this you will begin an inward struggle over whether or not you should hand this letter over to the F.B.I. I leave the decision in your capable hands Clarice, but I know already what your decision will be. Is this because you don't want the unwanted attention from your friends at the bureau? Or is it something more personnel than that? Either way I'm sure you'll entertain thoughts into the early hours.
Our last meeting, which lead to the demise of our Mr Krendler, ended rather abruptly. I would have liked more time to speak with you Clarice, but alas it was not to be. Hopefully this time around, we will have the chance.
For now I bid you peaceful dreams Clarice, but I know you wont find them tonight.
Your old pal
Hannibal Lecter M.D
Clarice re-read the letter several times before she laid it to rest on the smooth top of the pine table. The thought of handing the letter in came and went as he had said it would. Standing slowly she walked into her living room and settled into her armchair, looking out the window. He was obviously planning something that was clear in the letter; Clarice shuddered at the thought of meeting him again. What was also apparent was the fact that he was close by, probably watching her. The thought didn't make her as nervous as it should she thought. Standing once more she looked around the room, her eyes falling on a box sitting in the corner. Walking over to it she removed the folded flag from the top and reached inside, feeling her hand slip around the comforting cold metal of the .45. Looking down at the new extension to her arm, she almost laughed at herself. There was no was she would ever use it, but he would expect no less.
" Let the games begin" she whispered to the empty room.
Chapter 3
She found that she couldn't stop looking over her shoulder and it was beginning to annoy even her, and the teenage shelf-packers if the glares where anything to go by. It was the second time she had disturbed a product display in the last twenty minutes from not looking where she was going. Sighing she decided to concentrate on the grocery list in her hand, she would end up going banana's if she didn't stop being so paranoid. It had been three days since the letter had been hand posted through her door, and she could say with true conviction that she had had about seven hours sleep within them. Stifling a yawn, which caused her eyes to water, she made her way quickly to the checkout, unpacking her items onto the moving counter. There were several angry stares from the people behind her, which glancing up to the hanging sign, realised was because she was standing in the ten items or less queue. Sending an apologetic smile to the angry patrons she inwardly slapped herself. " Get a grip girl," she said under her breath. While waiting for the seventeen year old girl who was chewing too much gum pass her items lazily through the checkout Clarice started a mental argument with herself, her eyes fixed somewhere over the girls shoulder.
" Ok girl, you have got to stop this. He could just be playing games with you; you know how much he enjoys that. But he's in town, he has to be, the letter was hand posted. Yeah ok, so he's in town, he's playing games, but your playing into his hands. He'll be watching you fuss over this, enjoying the way you look over your shoulder every five seconds. See! You just did it again! Stop it! Ok calm down. I have to stop this, I'll just start acting like this doesn't bother me and maybe he'll get bored and go away. Yeah right."
" I said that'll be 32.95 mam."
Snapping out of her inward argument she regarded the pimple faced girl who was staring at her with a 'duh' expression on her face. Clarice looked up to the electronic screen and realised that she was waiting for money. Giving another small smile when she heard the tuts and whispers from behind her she quickly fished in her bag for her purse. Of course having a gun, mace, handcuffs and all her usual junk made the easy task a little more difficult. Clarice could feel the red starting to creep up her face when she realised that her purse wasn't in the bag. Sheer panic flooded her for a moment, then settled on a solid state of embarrassment. This was the perfect end to her day, what the hell else can happen, she thought grimly. Glancing up to the cashier she took a deep breath.
" I seem to have forgotten my purse. I-I-I'm really sorry, truly. Is there anyway that you can keep these to the side and I'll run over the cash machine?"
" Please, allow me Clarice"
The velvet voice that came from behind her caused her heart to simply stop beating. Staring straight ahead at the cashier she saw the hand come over her shoulder with a crisp hundred-dollar bill neatly folded between two fingers. Clarice was convinced that her heart would never beat again when she heard the familiar voice close to her ear.
" Lets get these bags in the car hmm?"
Clarice quickly looked back at the now long queue behind her, her eyes travelling over the faces of the people, looking for any sign of recognition or suspect. All she saw where the blank, angry stares aimed in her direction. Grabbing hold of her handbag tightly in one hand she slowly turned around, her heart doing the opposite to what it had done earlier. She was sure he could hear it hammering. He was wearing a rich dark navy suit, with a white fedora; a pair of slightly tinted glasses completed his elegant disguise. Staring at each other for what seemed like an eternity, a polite cough from the cashier caused him to look back to her.
" Your change Sir" the young girl drawled, popping her gum.
Clarice watched his every move, the way he leaned over her to collect his change meant she could smell his expensive cologne. The boy at the end of the aisle had neatly packed her shopping into large brown paper bags and they sat in her trolley waiting to be picked up. Smiling a half smile he crossed his arm in front of him, motioning her to go in front. Numbly she obliged, her feet stubborn at first but eventually doing as she wanted. She walked to the end of the aisle and he motioned her to pick up the bags. This surprised her, he was always the gentleman and she would have thought he would have taken the burden of the bags, but she could see the reasoning behind it. He wanted her hands full. Walking numbly towards her car she jumped when she felt a warm hand on the small of her back, guiding her to the back of her black Taurus.
" Excuse Me," he said with a wink and she shuddered when he slipped his hand into her trouser pocket to pull out her car keys. With a flick of the wrist the boot opened and she was glad to dump the bags inside, the strain of standing upright at the moment was enough without the added wait of her shopping.
Closing the boot with a resounding bang that made her jump again he regarded her with an amused smile.
" Clarice, as eager as I am to speak with you, I hardly think a car park is the ideal setting. Why don't you get in the car and I'll tell you the plans."
Without loosing eyes contact she made her way to the drivers side and slipped in, before she had a chance to formulate a thought the passenger door opened and he slipped inside, handing her the keys.