Chapter 40
The night laid silently ahead the moonlight played with the shadows of trees, hills and movements. Either Hannibal or Clarice spoke, they sat in their own thoughts as the car moved through the darkness.
Clarice wanted to say something, to make time go, to feel that she wasn't alone in the car, but there was nothing to say, and she didn't want to ask him about his past no matter how much it intrigued her. It hit Clarice that she knew absolutely nothing about him, his past was a mystery, she knew his case perhaps better then anyone else, she had seen a side of him that she didn't think anyone else had seen, but that was it. she was in love with a made who apparently had more to hide then Nixon and the Watergate scandal.
Clarice looked puzzled at Hannibal, his eyes were on the road, but she knew that he knew she looked at him. Clarice wondered what had made him what he is, his taste for the finer things in life, his love for Goldberg and Dante, why he had become a psychiatrist and to end up like a cannibal. Murder wasn't strange, so many people kill for the weirdest of reason but why Hannibal.
Clarice knew that she was trying to analyze him she couldn't help it. How could she be with a man she didn't know. Clarice smiled, she couldn't decide if she needed to know or wanted to... maybe it was both.
"Care to let me in on what you are thinking Clarice?" She was brought back to the present. Clarice knew she wasn't going to get away with saying nothing. "You." The answer Clarice thought was perfect. Hannibal turned his head to look at her; she gave him an innocent stare. He waited for her to continue, but only her silence greeted him.
"Care to elaborate that Clarice?" She had him where she liked. "Quid pro quo Hannibal, yes or no." She loved it, giving him back his own lines. A ghost of a smile was on his lips. "Yes, shall I begin or would you like to?" Clarice wouldn't want to seem to eager, but if she didn't start he could get her off her track and she knew he would try.
"I'll go first. Where were you born?" Hannibal was surprised, he hadn't expected her to ask him that, he thought that she wanted to know why he killed, that she wanted to hear the things that people craved to know, but no, she wanted his past. Hannibal wondered why she could surprise him time and again.
"In the old Slovakia" Clarice wasn't surprised, no somehow she had pictured him from that part of the world, there was something dark over it, it held secrets, just like Hannibal. Clarice waited for him to ask his question, she knew nothing came cheap when it came to him.
"Why did you come to France, did you run away hmm?" Clarice looked out on the road, she never thought about it, why did she choose Paris? Hannibal gave her time to think about it. Time was what they had.
It strikes her, ten minutes later that she really didn't know. "I.. I don't know." It was as much a statement as quite plea for Hannibal to help her figure it out. "I suppose it was because I could speak French and I've always wanted to go to France." Hannibal seemed satisfied, with her wholehearted answer, and the ball was back with her.
Clarice wasn't up for the game anymore. The fact that she didn't know why she had run off to France had shook her, but she wanted to hear his story.
"Would you consider it rude if I asked you to tell you story Hannibal?" He looked at her again, her eyes pleading, but there was understanding in them, he could see that she would accept a no. He briefly wondered why she hadn't asked before.
"Clarice there is nothing more I would like in the world then to tell you that, but the time is not right." Clarice looked at him. "Not the right time?" "All good things to those who wait my dear."
Silence descended upon yet again, but this time Clarice's mind circled around what Hannibal had meant, and for the first time she wondered where they where heading and why. But she didn't ask, she knew that she wouldn't get fare with those questions. Clarice settled for the dark road ahead of them and the moving shadows outside the window.
The night laid silently ahead the moonlight played with the shadows of trees, hills and movements. Either Hannibal or Clarice spoke, they sat in their own thoughts as the car moved through the darkness.
Clarice wanted to say something, to make time go, to feel that she wasn't alone in the car, but there was nothing to say, and she didn't want to ask him about his past no matter how much it intrigued her. It hit Clarice that she knew absolutely nothing about him, his past was a mystery, she knew his case perhaps better then anyone else, she had seen a side of him that she didn't think anyone else had seen, but that was it. she was in love with a made who apparently had more to hide then Nixon and the Watergate scandal.
Clarice looked puzzled at Hannibal, his eyes were on the road, but she knew that he knew she looked at him. Clarice wondered what had made him what he is, his taste for the finer things in life, his love for Goldberg and Dante, why he had become a psychiatrist and to end up like a cannibal. Murder wasn't strange, so many people kill for the weirdest of reason but why Hannibal.
Clarice knew that she was trying to analyze him she couldn't help it. How could she be with a man she didn't know. Clarice smiled, she couldn't decide if she needed to know or wanted to... maybe it was both.
"Care to let me in on what you are thinking Clarice?" She was brought back to the present. Clarice knew she wasn't going to get away with saying nothing. "You." The answer Clarice thought was perfect. Hannibal turned his head to look at her; she gave him an innocent stare. He waited for her to continue, but only her silence greeted him.
"Care to elaborate that Clarice?" She had him where she liked. "Quid pro quo Hannibal, yes or no." She loved it, giving him back his own lines. A ghost of a smile was on his lips. "Yes, shall I begin or would you like to?" Clarice wouldn't want to seem to eager, but if she didn't start he could get her off her track and she knew he would try.
"I'll go first. Where were you born?" Hannibal was surprised, he hadn't expected her to ask him that, he thought that she wanted to know why he killed, that she wanted to hear the things that people craved to know, but no, she wanted his past. Hannibal wondered why she could surprise him time and again.
"In the old Slovakia" Clarice wasn't surprised, no somehow she had pictured him from that part of the world, there was something dark over it, it held secrets, just like Hannibal. Clarice waited for him to ask his question, she knew nothing came cheap when it came to him.
"Why did you come to France, did you run away hmm?" Clarice looked out on the road, she never thought about it, why did she choose Paris? Hannibal gave her time to think about it. Time was what they had.
It strikes her, ten minutes later that she really didn't know. "I.. I don't know." It was as much a statement as quite plea for Hannibal to help her figure it out. "I suppose it was because I could speak French and I've always wanted to go to France." Hannibal seemed satisfied, with her wholehearted answer, and the ball was back with her.
Clarice wasn't up for the game anymore. The fact that she didn't know why she had run off to France had shook her, but she wanted to hear his story.
"Would you consider it rude if I asked you to tell you story Hannibal?" He looked at her again, her eyes pleading, but there was understanding in them, he could see that she would accept a no. He briefly wondered why she hadn't asked before.
"Clarice there is nothing more I would like in the world then to tell you that, but the time is not right." Clarice looked at him. "Not the right time?" "All good things to those who wait my dear."
Silence descended upon yet again, but this time Clarice's mind circled around what Hannibal had meant, and for the first time she wondered where they where heading and why. But she didn't ask, she knew that she wouldn't get fare with those questions. Clarice settled for the dark road ahead of them and the moving shadows outside the window.