Storyteller's Notes: Thank you very much for your reviews. I greatly appreciate the time you are giving to read the story and write the reviews, considering this is my first ever attempt at writing a fanfic.
Some of you have commented on my style, which was very flattering. However, I am not sure, that I can claim the full responsibility for it. As I was expanding my story within the book I tried to write as close as I possibly could to the way Thomas Harris wrote Hannibal. Incidentally, I do find his style of writing endearing and hope that if I am to write any further fanfic I would be able to maintain the quality of my writing. Or, perhaps, even improve it.
CE
Disclaimer: as in the first part as it is a continuation of the story...
story continues…
After the excitement he experienced seeing the lashes slicing through Starling's skin, her resistance finally broken with a magnificent cry that gave him the joy he didn't have for a long time, Mason Verger felt exhausted like a whip that was now lying spent on the barn floor. Mason thought a little nap would revive him enough to enjoy the conclusion of this superb evening.
It was a whimsy, but Mason delighted himself with its brilliancy. He will let Dr Lecter to get close to Starling, so close he would feel her heartbeat, feel her breath on his face, but not touch, he will deny him the joy of touch, just like Lecter denied it to him, Mason Verger. This should provide some time for Mason's recuperation.
"Carlo, move the Doctor to Ms Starling as close as possible. I want them so close, that if she is having a piss Dr Lecter feels it down his pants." Mason said. "Yes, that's perfect. Let them be for now while I rest. Keep the camera rolling, I'd want to see it later."
The chilly air of the barn was made tolerable by the large floodlights. Suspended from the crane, Clarice Starling was cold with fever. Was she glad her last experience was over? She didn't n know. Perhaps, she hoped her body would give in and die there and then. Now, on the edge of awareness, she resented that she was forced to return from her oblivion, back to her thoughts, back to pain, back to life, whatever for? Starling did not want to think, just wanted to be still...
Then she felt the presence of another being, the warmth of another body against her stomach, the deliberate raising of breath. Starling's own heart was beating in every wound, her skin shimmering with pulse. The other heartbeat had a steady comforting rhythm. As her father's would be. Perhaps, it is my Daddy and I am dead? Starling felt an irresistible urge to rest her head on her father's shoulder. And she did.
For the time that Dr Lecter observed Starling on the edge of death, he was contemplating whether Mischa still could have Starling's place in the world should she die here in Muskrat Farm at the hands of Mason Verger, or would this invalidate the place Dr Lecter selected for Mischa should the universe contract and time reverse. His indecision concerned him.
When he watched Starling being violated, watched the lashes biting into her flesh, swarms of the fireflies flew in the depth of his eyes, the maroon flames blowing high with the wind of wrath. He was then surprised to discover the staircases in his memory palace slippery with blood, leaking through the cracks, hurling him from the comforts of the glorious halls with leafy gardens down to the oubliettes and their ghastly smells.
Dr Lecter turned to the freedom of analysis to regain control of his mind. Were the traps of his memory dungeons flying open because the images of Starling, raped and tortured, belonged with Mischa's milk teeth in the reeking stool pit? Because to see her agony and endure his intimacy for her desecrated was as painful as to watch Mischa led away through the blood stained snow?
Clarice Starling...
He recognised her inner pain, her inner struggle, long before she was made aware of it. He marvelled at its intensity when it spilled out in that agonising cry, rising from her very core, sending shudders through her entire body.
Was her retaliation on Krendler part of that struggle? Anger for her inner pain? Or simply a need for the lasting revenge? Long ago Dr Lecter saw the potential, what she was becoming – like one of the big cats, one you can't play with later – Krendler paid for his ignorance. Blind fool. He, Hannibal Lecter, saw it coming and when it did his genius intoxicated him, but even he found himself admiring the detachment and precision it was executed with.
A potential flexibility that would give her freedom from those tight shoes? Give her peace? Perhaps. The peace he found since he first looked in her eyes, smelled her scent, was it due to the knowledge that she occupied a place in the world? Somewhere. Would that peace irreparably shatter if her place was vacated even for Mischa's theoretical return? Or would his harmony be only complete if she occupied the place in his world, if he found a place for Mischa within Starling?
Then he felt the closeness of her body, the trembling fatigue of her muscles. And pain.
The touch crackled in his eye, when she leaned her head against his shoulder. As her scent flooded in and her sensation fragranced the high halls of his memory palace, he had no doubt in one matter – Starling's place in the world was the worthiest, and it pleased him immeasurably to share this place with her even for a brief moment. He'll stop for now in the cool shade of her garden that grew suddenly within the marble walls of his mind and reflect on the calm and joy he felt when she rested her head on his stretched arm...
When Starling opened her eyes to look at her father, she saw instead an unmistakable maroon eye.
"Dr Lecter..." He was unbearably close.
"How are you, Clarice?" Dr Lecter said.
Was it a concern she heard behind the metallic rasps of his voice or mockery?
Starling shifted her head, revealing a messy wound on her shoulder where she'd been stifling her screams. Considered his question for a moment and said, "Fucked."
She moved her arid tongue over her swollen lips and Lecter felt the fever of her breath, the dryness of her mouth.
"Tell me, Clarice, do you think it pleases me to see you like this?"
She raised her head to face him. "I don't know, does it?"
"No. No, I would not have wanted this happen to you." A twinkle of amusement in his eye, "As I said to you before, Clarice, discourtesy is unspeakably ugly to me," and he tilted his head to side with a penetrating stare.
She wished she was able to laugh. Instead, her battered lungs managed a cackle. "You don't say. Amusing game, Dr Lecter, isn't it? Hard to play, if you don't know the rules. I'm damn to make all the wrong moves. Here I am, agonising over the shit I am in while soon enough, if Mason Verger has his way, I'll be preying for a quick and insentient death. But, fool me, it's discourtesy that's ugly."
"To understand the rules, Clarice, you must determine which one of your agonies is the game – the one Mason Verger has subjected you to, or the one you have imposed on yourself. Your shoes didn't catch up, Special Agent Starling. They are still cheap. And very tight."
"Give me some credit, Dr Lecter."
She then looked right at him and for a moment saw as she remembered him in her mind – caught in the instant when he did not mock.
"It is quite something to know you in private life, Clarice."
Dr Lecter could just reach a gash she gnawed on her shoulder. He extended his tongue and licked the wound taking in the zest of her anguish, then traced the tongue to her throat.
"Would you like me to end it all for you, Clarice?" He said, his eyes closed, listening to her body. He felt her shudder as she visualised Mason Verger's upcoming dinner party. Dr Lecter looked up, saw her gaze drift for a moment or two as she considered his offer, her growing insanity and her resolve...
"Clarice?"
She looked again directly at him, jaw set, appreciation in her eyes.
"Thank you, Dr Lecter," she said, "but, no. I know I'll regret it but I'll to take my chances to the end."
"That's my girl," he said with a soft smile and traced his tongue over her mouth, felt her body to tense, sensed her to welcome the moisture on her dry aching lips. Starling was in dire need of a drink.
"How touching," Mason said impatiently. He had been watching for some time now. "Cool it ... Was it good for you, Doctor? Gets you all tingly and itchy in your crotch, doesn't it?.."
"Are we now being bored with the benefit of your shallow memories, Mason?" Dr Lecter said as Piero moved the forklift back.
"Memories are all I have," Mason said, "but I am pleasuring myself with the thought that my memories will outlive yours, Doctor, and soon you'll become just another one of my shallow memories." He giggled.
"On the subject of pleasure, Mason, former Special Agent Starling needs a drink of water, if she is to delight us further during your hilarious entertainment." Lecter said. "It simply won't do if she is unconscious. Agent Starling, of course, is rather hoping to slip into oblivion."
"Hmm, it won't do indeed." Mason said reflecting. "I was right, her distress does attract you. All the possibilities of what you could do to her, but can't. Ah, how deliciously wicked. My mind runs away with anticipation."
"Carlo, hose her down and give her some water." Mason said.
Carlo pulled a hose closer and turned on water.
Cold cleansing energy of water washed over Starling, punched her out of the feverish void she was quietly wandering into. With the blood washed off the weeping lacerations on her cream skin looked like the delicate vignettes and antique crackling on an exquisite porcelain vase, observed Dr Lecter.
Carlo then reduced the stream to a trickle, brought it to Starling's mouth and she felt life and pain streaming back into her tired body and mind.
Cordell returned with the van, cursing under breath.
"How is that cocksucker, Cordell?" Mason said.
"Mr Krendler is being attended to, everything as you requested, Mr Verger. The helicopter will pick him up tomorrow, you'll have to give me the time you want him here." Cordell said.
"Good. Now check if Ms Starling needs any fluid replacement. And check the film we were running while you were out, see if it's alright or we may have to do another take before we move on." Mason parted his teeth in a substitute for a smile.
"Would you like a drink, Doctor?" Mason said.
"Thank you, Mason, how very kind of you."
"Give him a drink, Carlo, I need the Doctor in a reasonable health for our dinner appointment."
Carlo pushed the hose into Lecter's teeth and turned up the volume. The water ran down his front.
"How quaint, now you can piss yourself, Doctor, and nobody would ever know," Mason giggled.
Cordell examined Starling's wounds, regretting he missed this part, the tape is not the same as the real thing, he thought.
"She is okay for now, I may need to put her on drip after the next part." Cordell said.
to be continued…
Thank you for your time. As ever I'd appreciate your reviews.
CE