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Chapter two: Part two.
As Arthur Fields grew older, he found that he measured his history in terms of milestones. Those intense moments would never leave his memory: the loss of Mischa, his first kill, his incarceration, his fateful meeting of Clarice Starling and their stormy goodbye. Milestones all of them, marked indelibly on the engrams of his memory.
And among them, he would always remember the cold, terrifying feeling of loss that came over him as he watched the news.
It was all over the news; there was not one in Washington or, for that matter, the rest of the civilised world who did not know. As bright as the day had seemed earlier, now it was clouding up again. People were hurrying home to their families, to their constant arguing, demanding but, nonetheless, loving families.
Special agent Ardelia Mapp, who had just returned home, heard it on the news as well. Her feelings were comparable to those of the one far away. They had nothing in common except the love they had for a certain agent.
~FBI's death angel, Clarice M. Starling, was shot earlier this morning. Shortly after leaving her car, a drive-by shooting took place. Agent Starling was among several injured. Both the FBI and Washington PD are trying to track the shooters; in the meantime, Agent Starling is not expected to survive her injuries. ~
Arthur Fields, monster, murderer, sociopath, cannibal, a known madman, the man was shocked. He knew that this event was but a sigh in what was to be a rather long journey, a journey for both Clarice Starling and himself. Things had been set in motion, with no regard for time.
Arthur Fields prepared for his journey to lay claim to his bird, he would not stand for this anymore. He could and would not lose the only one he had ever loved so dearly. It was time she saw it too. Her place was at his side. He had, after all, waited more than a decade for her to come around.
~~~
Agent Ardelia Mapp rushed out the door on her way to her friend. It had hit her hard to hear it on the news. Ardelia briefly wondered who was listed as next-of-kin if anything should happen to Clarice. Clearly, it had not been Ardelia. But that was not of importance now. Ardelia feared the worst but hoped for the best.
~~~
Arthur Fields finally set foot in Washington; it was as he had remembered it. The people were like buzzing bees seeking nectar from flowers. They were on the street in great numbers, going from building to building, making their daily routine their whole existance. Arthur Fields dressed casually and walked the streets with ease. His movements were unhurried and graceful. Where the others had their daily routine, he had his unpredictability. Where others were seeking a rich, materialistic life, he sought freedom in every form. He had the means to live as he saw fit; therefore, he was free in a way they were not.
Arthur Fields shopped for what he needed. He had rented a nice little cottage outside of town; it would serve as home till Clarice was fit enough to travel. And furthermore, it would also work nicely in Clarice's recovery. But what was most important was that it was secluded from the public, and it would not be a place the FBI would look.
Arthur could almost taste the venom in those three letters. They were nothing more than a mockery, an embarrassment to themselves. Though his face had lost its place as the centerpiece on the ten most-wanted list, he was still a very wanted man. Yet here he was in their "hometown" and they didn't have a clue.
He unloaded the supplies he had bought then took his seat behind the wheel of a black pick-up and drove out of Washington.
~~~
Ardelia sat by Clarice's bed. It had been three days since the shooting but there was still no sign from Clarice that she intended to return to life among the living. It was almost as if she was waiting for something to happen or for someone to come. "Someone other than me," Ardelia thought dryly. She looked at Clarice who looked more at peace than she ever had before.
Ardelia knew that it had been hard on Clarice, with all the things that had gone wrong since she had agreed to work with Crawford all those years back. And she knew that what had perhaps hurt Clarice more than anything was the lack of advancement in the FBI. Ardelia had had no problems, she was, in fact, still rising. She hoped that one day she would be able to help Clarice.
Ardelia was so lost in her reverie that she did not notice the doctor who had entered the room. He stopped short of the bed and Ardelia, for a moment observing the scene.
He could not wait long. If he was to get her away unnoticed, he had to move now. He spoke in his best western drawl, disturbing Clarice's friend.
"Excuse me, Miss," he waited. When nothing happened, he put his hand on her shoulder. Ardelia looked up into the face of an older man who seemed to be a doctor, into eyes that were captivating. Ardelia found herself wanting to ask him out even though he seemed to be somewhat older than herself. He spoke again.
"Excuse me, Miss, but I have to take her. There are some examinations we need to make." His voice was every bit as mesmerizing as his eyes. Ardelia nodded and watched as he guided her bed down the hall into a service elevator.
Ardelia stood in the hall watching the life of the hospital revolve around her, not knowing who had taken her best friend for the ride of her life. Ardelia closed her eyes for a second, remembering the look of those eyes that seemed to bare her soul for the world to see. "For him to see," she shuddered.
To be continued. (I hope within the near future. Who knows, I have to read Harry Potter 5 first.)
Chapter two: Part two.
As Arthur Fields grew older, he found that he measured his history in terms of milestones. Those intense moments would never leave his memory: the loss of Mischa, his first kill, his incarceration, his fateful meeting of Clarice Starling and their stormy goodbye. Milestones all of them, marked indelibly on the engrams of his memory.
And among them, he would always remember the cold, terrifying feeling of loss that came over him as he watched the news.
It was all over the news; there was not one in Washington or, for that matter, the rest of the civilised world who did not know. As bright as the day had seemed earlier, now it was clouding up again. People were hurrying home to their families, to their constant arguing, demanding but, nonetheless, loving families.
Special agent Ardelia Mapp, who had just returned home, heard it on the news as well. Her feelings were comparable to those of the one far away. They had nothing in common except the love they had for a certain agent.
~FBI's death angel, Clarice M. Starling, was shot earlier this morning. Shortly after leaving her car, a drive-by shooting took place. Agent Starling was among several injured. Both the FBI and Washington PD are trying to track the shooters; in the meantime, Agent Starling is not expected to survive her injuries. ~
Arthur Fields, monster, murderer, sociopath, cannibal, a known madman, the man was shocked. He knew that this event was but a sigh in what was to be a rather long journey, a journey for both Clarice Starling and himself. Things had been set in motion, with no regard for time.
Arthur Fields prepared for his journey to lay claim to his bird, he would not stand for this anymore. He could and would not lose the only one he had ever loved so dearly. It was time she saw it too. Her place was at his side. He had, after all, waited more than a decade for her to come around.
~~~
Agent Ardelia Mapp rushed out the door on her way to her friend. It had hit her hard to hear it on the news. Ardelia briefly wondered who was listed as next-of-kin if anything should happen to Clarice. Clearly, it had not been Ardelia. But that was not of importance now. Ardelia feared the worst but hoped for the best.
~~~
Arthur Fields finally set foot in Washington; it was as he had remembered it. The people were like buzzing bees seeking nectar from flowers. They were on the street in great numbers, going from building to building, making their daily routine their whole existance. Arthur Fields dressed casually and walked the streets with ease. His movements were unhurried and graceful. Where the others had their daily routine, he had his unpredictability. Where others were seeking a rich, materialistic life, he sought freedom in every form. He had the means to live as he saw fit; therefore, he was free in a way they were not.
Arthur Fields shopped for what he needed. He had rented a nice little cottage outside of town; it would serve as home till Clarice was fit enough to travel. And furthermore, it would also work nicely in Clarice's recovery. But what was most important was that it was secluded from the public, and it would not be a place the FBI would look.
Arthur could almost taste the venom in those three letters. They were nothing more than a mockery, an embarrassment to themselves. Though his face had lost its place as the centerpiece on the ten most-wanted list, he was still a very wanted man. Yet here he was in their "hometown" and they didn't have a clue.
He unloaded the supplies he had bought then took his seat behind the wheel of a black pick-up and drove out of Washington.
~~~
Ardelia sat by Clarice's bed. It had been three days since the shooting but there was still no sign from Clarice that she intended to return to life among the living. It was almost as if she was waiting for something to happen or for someone to come. "Someone other than me," Ardelia thought dryly. She looked at Clarice who looked more at peace than she ever had before.
Ardelia knew that it had been hard on Clarice, with all the things that had gone wrong since she had agreed to work with Crawford all those years back. And she knew that what had perhaps hurt Clarice more than anything was the lack of advancement in the FBI. Ardelia had had no problems, she was, in fact, still rising. She hoped that one day she would be able to help Clarice.
Ardelia was so lost in her reverie that she did not notice the doctor who had entered the room. He stopped short of the bed and Ardelia, for a moment observing the scene.
He could not wait long. If he was to get her away unnoticed, he had to move now. He spoke in his best western drawl, disturbing Clarice's friend.
"Excuse me, Miss," he waited. When nothing happened, he put his hand on her shoulder. Ardelia looked up into the face of an older man who seemed to be a doctor, into eyes that were captivating. Ardelia found herself wanting to ask him out even though he seemed to be somewhat older than herself. He spoke again.
"Excuse me, Miss, but I have to take her. There are some examinations we need to make." His voice was every bit as mesmerizing as his eyes. Ardelia nodded and watched as he guided her bed down the hall into a service elevator.
Ardelia stood in the hall watching the life of the hospital revolve around her, not knowing who had taken her best friend for the ride of her life. Ardelia closed her eyes for a second, remembering the look of those eyes that seemed to bare her soul for the world to see. "For him to see," she shuddered.
To be continued. (I hope within the near future. Who knows, I have to read Harry Potter 5 first.)