Disclaimer in part one. Thanks for the reviews J
three
I'm dreaming, she thought. He can't possibly be here. It's not him. It's not him. Not him. Nothimnothimnothim.
"I'm sorry it took me so long to get here. Flying these days isn't as safe as it used to be." He pulled the chair closer to her bed and sat down.
"Dr. Lecter . . ." She could do nothing but stare at him. Her gaze dropped to his left hand. He raised his arm and wiggled his fingers at her.
"I have a friend who's a surgeon. She did a great job of reattaching my thumb. I assure you, it's as good as new."
Clarice remembered the horror she'd felt when she'd seen his thumb on the chopping board. She had known he wouldn't harm her, but had never thought he'd harm himself. Later, when she'd realized that he'd valued freedom more than anything else – even her, which left a strange ache in her chest – she'd blamed it on the morphine he'd given her. How could she be expected to think clearly when she was drugged?
"I'm sorry-" she began.
Lecter gently covered his hand with her own. "Shh. Go back to sleep. We can talk later."
She shook her head; sleep was the last thing she wanted to do. She hardly felt the tiny pinprick of the needle as it pierced her skin, and didn't protest as his hands gently smoothed her hair away from her face.
"Don't eat me, 'kay?" she mumbled as she drifted off. He chuckled softly at that, and her last thought was hell, I'll blame the drugs again.
***
"What do you mean, you don't know where she is?" Dwayne stood at the foot of Clarice's now-empty bed. His hands were tightly clenched at his side and he raised his head to look at the young nurse, a tiny blonde just out of college.
"We . . . umm . . . well . . ."
"What's your name?"
"Rachel."
"Rachel, please go fetch someone who can tell me what happened." Dwayne's voice was calm, but the tension behind the words was obvious.
She nodded and scurried out. Dwayne sat down, feeling very old and very tired. A sparkle on the floor caught his eye. He bent down and picked up the gold cross. It lay in the palm of his hand as he prayed.
"Mr. Ritter, I tried to call-" The doctor stopped when Dwayne looked up.
"What happened?"
Dr, Barnard bowed his head. "We have everything on the surveillance tape, if you'd like to see it."
Dwayne nodded and followed the doctor. He was surprised to see Clint Pearsall when they arrived at security. He recognized him from the funeral and warily shook Pearsall's hand.
The video was already playing. Dwayne leaned closer to the monitor and watched a man push a gurney down the hallway. The man glanced up long enough for Dwayne to see his face.
"Oh, my God . . ." Ardelia had talked to him about Clarice and Lecter one night. Her greatest fear had been that Lecter would return to kill Clarice. She'd shown Dwayne a picture of him and had told him that he was looking at the face of evil. He hadn't disagreed.
"She's dead, isn't she?" he asked.
Pearsall spoke; placing what he thought was a reassuring hand on Dwayne's shoulder. "We don't know that. After they left the hospital, they just vanished. She could still be alive."
"They didn't leave. He took her!"
"Mr. Ritter, I know you're upset-"
"You don't seriously think that Clarice called him up and asked him to fetch her, do you?"
"She has let him escape once before . . . and she saved his life. I don't know for sure what kind of relationship they had."
"Relationship? Do you know what you're saying?" Pearsall was silent. Dwayne shook his head; had Clarice had to put up with this at the Bureau? "What are you doing to find her?"
"Mr. Ritter, I'm going to be honest with you. I think you've suffered enough. I do have agents working on her disappearance-"
"Kidnapping."
"-But I don't think we'll ever see her again."
Dwayne stared at Pearsall's face for a few long seconds. He looked at the monitor, at the frozen image of Lecter's face. Then he turned around and left the room.
Somehow, he found himself at the hospital's chapel. There was one other person in the room: a gaunt, bald young boy holding a rosary. Dwayne nodded at him and took a seat near the front. He bowed his head and tried to pray, but no words would come. He cried instead and didn't look up when he felt someone sit down next to him. It was the boy.
He looked at the cross Dwayne held and sighed. "You lost somebody, didn't you?"
Dwayne could only nod.
"Don't be sad. She's in a better place."
Ardelia, Dwayne thought, but not Clarice. He looked at the boy sadly; how could he expect him to understand?
***
He watched her sleep. Life had been hard on her since he'd last seen her. She'd lost weight. Dark circles under her eyes spoke of sleepless nights. He wondered when she'd started biting her nails.
She was still beautiful.
He hated seeing her so weak. How had God dared do this to his Clarice? He ran his fingers along the plaster cast on her arm, imagining the bones knitting together under the skin. At least she was alive; it could have been worse. It could have been her lying in the cold ground instead of Ardelia. It hit him then just how close he had come to losing her.
Her eyes fluttered beneath their closed lids and she murmured softly. He lay a cool hand on her forehead and she stilled. He smiled, glad he'd returned to her.
She needed him. Perhaps now she would realize that. He bent down and kissed her forehead lightly, then smoothed the bedcovers. Until she woke, he was content to watch her.
TBC