Chapter two
Far from Washington, in a Paradise, it stopped raining. The sun fought its way through the clouds and sent its warm beams of light over the country. The blue sea came to rest, and every living creature sighed in relief as myriads of life came out of hiding. Lavish sunlight fought every shadow, putting them on the run.
On a porch, overlooking a beach, Arthur Fields stood barefooted in a black outfit with a glass of Chateau d'Yquem perfectly tempered and aired. His other hand was concealed in his pocket. It bore the scar of an almost fatal run-in with his favorite FBI agent. Only the white scar remained to speak of a once severed thumb. It throbbed as he remembered those last minutes together. He had known then that she would never let him run, let alone run with him, but he had proposed it nonetheless.
His little Starling. His little angel of morals. And what was she doing now? Hiding away from the world and possibly him? Not even the Tattler could dig anything up. He had hoped that she would have broken away from those undeserving masters she so willingly served.
People were roaming the beach now, children calling out for their parents, half-naked teenage girls capturing the attention of older men's hungry eyes, while the wives were trying to keep track of their kids. It was chaos and the noise drove Arthur inside.
It was a small cottage, by Arthur's standards, yet it held a living room, a library, a fairly large kitchen and the top floor had two large bedrooms and a luxury bathroom. Bach began to fill the air, drowning out the noise from the beach. As Arthur sat in his chair facing his desk, he closed his eyes as Clarice's words from their last conversation filled his memory.
He would set it right. She needed time. He knew she had seen his love for her; she almost had a fearful look upon her face. That single tear was her price, the price she had paid for this realization. She had the love of a monster, what did that make her? Arthur mused on this. Yes, he could see her dilemma. He could almost taste the salty tears she would, and most probably had, shed. Yes, she would know when it was time and so would he. It was more than common stars; they were bound, beyond time, space and life itself.
Arthur left his chair and went to the open door, looking out over the landscape. It was getting darker outside. How long had he sat there lost in thought? It did not matter. Bach was quiet, and the voices from the beach were gone as well. There was a chill in the evening air. Arthur knew that something was about to happen somewhere. He was surprised to find himself fearing that it might have something to do with his rescuing angel. He had set in motion her journey to self-awareness, could it be her future actions that he sensed now? There was electricity in the quiet air, something was beginning to stir. Fun?
Arthur returned to the living room and sat at the piano gently tickling the ivories. Soft tones filled the air around him, flowing from the cottage, further and further away from Paradise.
~ ~ ~
Clarice was returning home from work after yet another uneventful day and endless stacks of paper. She had endured the looks filled with hatred and resentment. There was no one left at Quantico to care about her. With Mr. Crawford gone, there was no one to save her from the vultures, others had taken Krendler's place. But what disturbed her most was that she didn't care to be saved. She knew of another salvation, one that was so much more desirable.
As so often before, her thoughts returned to Dr. Lecter. She would not blame herself for her answer. It had been said and she would bear the cost as best she could. It wasn't about seeking forgiveness for the choices she had made; it was about understanding why she had made them.
The sun cast long shadows, the Mustang's motor roared as she turned the ignition key, and the car left the parking lot of Quantico. As the car moved the familiar way home, Clarice felt a void in her chest. Against all logic it hurt, almost bringing her to tears. She had to pull over to try to gain control over herself. The pain grew to be almost unbearable and it demanded attention. The car came to a full stop outside a shop; it wasn't far from her own neighborhood.
Clarice got out of her car; her ragged breathing remained while the slight dizziness disappeared. Clarice knew she had to act. She might have been trying to convince her mind that it was for the best but her body; no, her heart disagreed. She would have to find him, she had to try. If for nothing else than to set her heart at ease.
Clarice heard a car's whining wheels and just as she turned, a burning pain cut through her stomach, shoulder and arm. An invisible force threw her against the wall; her legs buckled under her making the pavement her final stop. All that rushed through Clarice's head was that she hadn't had a chance to speak with Dr. Lecter. A single tear slid down her face before she lost consciousness.
TO BE CONTINUED.
Far from Washington, in a Paradise, it stopped raining. The sun fought its way through the clouds and sent its warm beams of light over the country. The blue sea came to rest, and every living creature sighed in relief as myriads of life came out of hiding. Lavish sunlight fought every shadow, putting them on the run.
On a porch, overlooking a beach, Arthur Fields stood barefooted in a black outfit with a glass of Chateau d'Yquem perfectly tempered and aired. His other hand was concealed in his pocket. It bore the scar of an almost fatal run-in with his favorite FBI agent. Only the white scar remained to speak of a once severed thumb. It throbbed as he remembered those last minutes together. He had known then that she would never let him run, let alone run with him, but he had proposed it nonetheless.
His little Starling. His little angel of morals. And what was she doing now? Hiding away from the world and possibly him? Not even the Tattler could dig anything up. He had hoped that she would have broken away from those undeserving masters she so willingly served.
People were roaming the beach now, children calling out for their parents, half-naked teenage girls capturing the attention of older men's hungry eyes, while the wives were trying to keep track of their kids. It was chaos and the noise drove Arthur inside.
It was a small cottage, by Arthur's standards, yet it held a living room, a library, a fairly large kitchen and the top floor had two large bedrooms and a luxury bathroom. Bach began to fill the air, drowning out the noise from the beach. As Arthur sat in his chair facing his desk, he closed his eyes as Clarice's words from their last conversation filled his memory.
He would set it right. She needed time. He knew she had seen his love for her; she almost had a fearful look upon her face. That single tear was her price, the price she had paid for this realization. She had the love of a monster, what did that make her? Arthur mused on this. Yes, he could see her dilemma. He could almost taste the salty tears she would, and most probably had, shed. Yes, she would know when it was time and so would he. It was more than common stars; they were bound, beyond time, space and life itself.
Arthur left his chair and went to the open door, looking out over the landscape. It was getting darker outside. How long had he sat there lost in thought? It did not matter. Bach was quiet, and the voices from the beach were gone as well. There was a chill in the evening air. Arthur knew that something was about to happen somewhere. He was surprised to find himself fearing that it might have something to do with his rescuing angel. He had set in motion her journey to self-awareness, could it be her future actions that he sensed now? There was electricity in the quiet air, something was beginning to stir. Fun?
Arthur returned to the living room and sat at the piano gently tickling the ivories. Soft tones filled the air around him, flowing from the cottage, further and further away from Paradise.
~ ~ ~
Clarice was returning home from work after yet another uneventful day and endless stacks of paper. She had endured the looks filled with hatred and resentment. There was no one left at Quantico to care about her. With Mr. Crawford gone, there was no one to save her from the vultures, others had taken Krendler's place. But what disturbed her most was that she didn't care to be saved. She knew of another salvation, one that was so much more desirable.
As so often before, her thoughts returned to Dr. Lecter. She would not blame herself for her answer. It had been said and she would bear the cost as best she could. It wasn't about seeking forgiveness for the choices she had made; it was about understanding why she had made them.
The sun cast long shadows, the Mustang's motor roared as she turned the ignition key, and the car left the parking lot of Quantico. As the car moved the familiar way home, Clarice felt a void in her chest. Against all logic it hurt, almost bringing her to tears. She had to pull over to try to gain control over herself. The pain grew to be almost unbearable and it demanded attention. The car came to a full stop outside a shop; it wasn't far from her own neighborhood.
Clarice got out of her car; her ragged breathing remained while the slight dizziness disappeared. Clarice knew she had to act. She might have been trying to convince her mind that it was for the best but her body; no, her heart disagreed. She would have to find him, she had to try. If for nothing else than to set her heart at ease.
Clarice heard a car's whining wheels and just as she turned, a burning pain cut through her stomach, shoulder and arm. An invisible force threw her against the wall; her legs buckled under her making the pavement her final stop. All that rushed through Clarice's head was that she hadn't had a chance to speak with Dr. Lecter. A single tear slid down her face before she lost consciousness.
TO BE CONTINUED.