Iuncti Pacem (lat. joined in peace)
by Sacara
author's note: I'm really not sure about her age so don't hit me if I got it wrong, please . :)!! . enjoy!!
~°~ this is the sequel to "With Impunity", I hope you'll like it! ~°~
-------------------------------------
Clarice sat behind a desk, with one elbow propped on the table and her head leaning on one hand, it was actually her old desk. She had spent the last 13 days in a questioning room in the FBI building, explaining and discussing and defending herself against the different kinds of accusations her superiors offered. She tried to appear calmly and arrogantly so that no one would suspect what really was going in her mind.
Her story simply was that she had lost her memory - it was the truth anyway - and just regained tiny pieces from time to time. So she wandered around without the knowledge of who she was and where she came from. No, she had absolutely not the slightest idea where to Dr. Lecter had disappeared, not to mention where he was at the moment. No, she hadn't been able to help Krendler because Lecter had drugged her and she was not quite herself that night. All very decent answers, though lies - even if they were actually of the opinion that she didn't tell the truth, they didn't have the least of a prove. Finally they left the room - all of them - and went outside to brood about her destiny, 38 minutes and 45 seconds later - she knew exactly, because she had been staring at her watch every damn minute from the time on they left - they came back in, and this time only two of them, to tell her that she would be getting her old job back, because there was no visible evidence that she had done something wrong. The younger one of the two padded her on the shoulder and said something like 'Welcome back' - the hell with them, Clarice thought. Special Agent Clarice Starling thanked them coolly, not even a hint of a smile on her face. She stood up moved passed the stunned speechless agents and left the room.
Well, she should be crazily happy and kissing the dirty ground that everything worked out so well, but she couldn't feel anything but the empty space within herself that didn't seem to fill up again. At least she had her job back and was able to work and to forget about what she could have had.
Clarice wondered where he was now - she looked at her watch, it was 11.00 a.m. he was probably sitting at the breakfast table, the paper in his elegant hands shaking his head about something he'd just read - no don't do that, she told herself, it'll only make things worse and you'll never be able to forget. The problem was just that she wasn't sure that she wanted to forget at all, it was an experience that was so unique that she wanted to treasure it. The only thing she really wanted was to be able to not regret her decision to go, because otherwise she'd never be able to enjoy her "normal" life as an agent again. Next month was her birthday. The 30est. Clarice smirked and giggled kind of hysterically. She thought, I am gonna be 30 and there is nothing to live for, nothing, no man no kids no LIFE.... not even a pet!
Suddenly, big hot burning tears were streaming down her cheeks. She let her head hang low and almost ran out of the FBI building. Her work only started again the next day, so she had some time for herself.
When she slammed the door to her old Mustang shut, she felt a little saver and calmer. It was funny what this car did to her, it somehow felt like home - well not exactly home, how could a car be 'home' - but it felt safe and comforting.
~°~°~°~
Clarice woke with the disturbing sounds of the doorbell, sleepily and not really awake she put on a dressing gown and went to the door.
"Who is it?" she asked grumpily.
"I've got a package for you Ms. Starling!" said the familiar voice of her mailman.
Clarice opened the door and received a quite big package from him. She signed and went back into the house.
Inside Starling curiously looked at the stamp and the sender address. It came from a Ms. Willer, in southern California. She didn't know someone called Willer, or did she? Well, of course, Clarice thought of the possibility that Ms.Willer stood for a certain Doctor, and the mere thought made her heart skip a beat or two. She opened it hastily and after putting tons of old newspapers aside she produced a frame, it was about 25 inches long and 10 inches wide and it was a picture of herself, drawn in charcoal, sitting at a breakfast table with a balcony in the background. Of course she knew that scenery, as well as she knew the artist. It was beautiful and Clarice all of a sudden couldn't hold back tears she put one hand over her mouth to prevent herself from sobbing openly. Her lithe body was cramped and trembled incessantly by all those emotions that she'd had to suppress all the time.
Suddenly, it all was too much, all kinds of feelings washed over her like a wave and she was overwhelmed, she couldn't think clearly. Clarice could feel the anger that built up inside of her - it changed into fury - and she threw that frame all across the room. It was a loud bang and then the clinging sound of glass that is breaking. The glass broke into thousands and thousands of the tiniest little pieces. It was thrown into all corners of the room. The frame and the picture lay inches apart on the floor right where they were smashed against the wall. Clarice slowly walked over there and picked up the picture. When she lifted it up a letter, which apparently has been hidden behind the picture, fell down. The fury changed into something totally different: interest and most of all curiosity.
This might be the first proof of life since she has left him. Clarice sat down at the table. Her fingers trembled slightly when she carefully put down the picture and opened up the letter.
It was one of those letters from the Doctor she was used to. Expensive and elegant. She unfolded the stationary and started reading.
Dear Clarice,
You're gone and I feel empty and alone. I hoped you'd finally stop to hate me and that you would stay with me - but now that there does not seem to be
anything worth living for left in this world -
I decided to say "Farewell, my little Clarice".
-
I hope you will achieve everything you've ever wished for and that your
life will be full-filling and satisfying.
In love
Hannibal Lecter, MD
That was all there was.
Clarice shook her head and read it all over again, and again. This was so very strange. It didn't sound like him at all, quite the reverse, it sounded as if he pretended that he'll do something he'd never in his wildest dreams, except he was forced to, would do. --- namely to kill himself ---
Again she shook her head:" What in hell are you trying to say, Hannibal? And why do you rely on me . you know I can't cope with it!" she said loudly.
Starling stood up and, with the letter in her hand, paced around nervously. He probably wanted her to show the letter to the FBI - but why for Heavens Sake . 'But, of course' she thought, he tried to get the FBI of his back . but did he really think this could work and why now of all times . and there were so many questions left . she decided to think it over before she'd show anything to the FBI.
Clarice got dressed mechanically while all the time deep in thoughts. Only when she sat in her car and started the engine she noticed where she was and what she was doing. She really could not remember how she got into her Mustang. Special Agent Clarice Starling sat there, smiling about herself.
~°~°~
The day didn't bring her to a solution. It was actually a quite boring day - mainly paperwork - surely they wanted to keep her quiet and it would take some time until they would assign her to a bigger case again.
So what was she supposed to do about his letter . he surely was waiting for her to react or at least act. She thought about what he had written and if it might compromise her anyhow. Clarice smiled, of course he had it written as if all the time she had fought against him and as if he had tried to persuade her to stay but hadn't succeeded, which actually was true somehow, except that she had started to feel something for him: excitement, interest and maybe love . and then he had set her free after some horrible time of torture. She scoffed.
*Hannibal you did it again. Again I don't have the slightest chance to get you out of my system . you'll be there forever won't you?!* . Clarice thought a little wistfully, but also kind of amused. She was not angry that he had written her, no not at all, she was just annoyed, because deep within herself she knew that she regretted the decision to leave him.. she regretted it so much that she had been furious when she had looked at the picture he had drawn for her .. she regretted that she hadn't finally surrendered to her feelings and slept with him.. she wanted it so much, at least her body in the first place, but couldn't bring herself to it ... and, she regretted to have given up all those intriguing discussions with him .. yes, she definitely regretted it. It crashed into her mind like a flash: she really would have approved of a life with a man who had killed several people. It seemed that she somehow made up her mind without even being aware of it. But it was too late now. She had left him there, made him feel miserable, at least that she was certain of. Would he take her back? Well, he had said so, but he might have changed his mind...
Clarice decided to sleep on it, the next day was Saturday and she didn't have to go to work. She hoped by then she would know what to do about her little problem.
~°~°~
The next morning Starling woke with the sound of her doorbell which was ringing constantly, as if somebody was leaning on it. Reluctantly she looked at her watch, it was 8.37 a.m. and much too early to Clarice's taste. She wondered what it would be this time, put on a dressing gown and stood up to get the door.
Clarice opened.
A young man was leaning against the doorframe. Clarice knew him from somewhere, she wondered from where. She looked past him at the car that was parked down the street. Inside sat another man.
"Can I help you?" she asked.
"Agent Starling?" he said more or less friendly, and pulled his credentials out of his jacket. "I'm Agent Petersen and I am supposed to accompany you back to the headquarters."
Clarice frowned. "Why, it is Saturday . I don't understand. .. ?"
"There's no more to say. I have my orders to bring you there, and actually I don't know either, but even if I knew, I was not supposed to tell you. You know the procedures, Starling!" he kind of smirked, and Clarice decided that very moment that she didn't like him.
"Ok. I'll be back in five," and she slammed the door right into his stupid grin.
~°~°~
Clarice sat in the back seat of the black FBI car, and thought very hard about what they could want this time. Actually she was a little worried. What if they somehow had found out about the real circumstances with Hannibal? But how could that have happened? Did he maybe tell them? . no he'd never do that!!! Never!! She shook her head ever so slightly.
'This could prove to be very interesting', Clarice thought to herself..
~°~°~ to be continued ~°~°~
author's note: I'm really not sure about her age so don't hit me if I got it wrong, please . :)!! . enjoy!!
~°~ this is the sequel to "With Impunity", I hope you'll like it! ~°~
-------------------------------------
Clarice sat behind a desk, with one elbow propped on the table and her head leaning on one hand, it was actually her old desk. She had spent the last 13 days in a questioning room in the FBI building, explaining and discussing and defending herself against the different kinds of accusations her superiors offered. She tried to appear calmly and arrogantly so that no one would suspect what really was going in her mind.
Her story simply was that she had lost her memory - it was the truth anyway - and just regained tiny pieces from time to time. So she wandered around without the knowledge of who she was and where she came from. No, she had absolutely not the slightest idea where to Dr. Lecter had disappeared, not to mention where he was at the moment. No, she hadn't been able to help Krendler because Lecter had drugged her and she was not quite herself that night. All very decent answers, though lies - even if they were actually of the opinion that she didn't tell the truth, they didn't have the least of a prove. Finally they left the room - all of them - and went outside to brood about her destiny, 38 minutes and 45 seconds later - she knew exactly, because she had been staring at her watch every damn minute from the time on they left - they came back in, and this time only two of them, to tell her that she would be getting her old job back, because there was no visible evidence that she had done something wrong. The younger one of the two padded her on the shoulder and said something like 'Welcome back' - the hell with them, Clarice thought. Special Agent Clarice Starling thanked them coolly, not even a hint of a smile on her face. She stood up moved passed the stunned speechless agents and left the room.
Well, she should be crazily happy and kissing the dirty ground that everything worked out so well, but she couldn't feel anything but the empty space within herself that didn't seem to fill up again. At least she had her job back and was able to work and to forget about what she could have had.
Clarice wondered where he was now - she looked at her watch, it was 11.00 a.m. he was probably sitting at the breakfast table, the paper in his elegant hands shaking his head about something he'd just read - no don't do that, she told herself, it'll only make things worse and you'll never be able to forget. The problem was just that she wasn't sure that she wanted to forget at all, it was an experience that was so unique that she wanted to treasure it. The only thing she really wanted was to be able to not regret her decision to go, because otherwise she'd never be able to enjoy her "normal" life as an agent again. Next month was her birthday. The 30est. Clarice smirked and giggled kind of hysterically. She thought, I am gonna be 30 and there is nothing to live for, nothing, no man no kids no LIFE.... not even a pet!
Suddenly, big hot burning tears were streaming down her cheeks. She let her head hang low and almost ran out of the FBI building. Her work only started again the next day, so she had some time for herself.
When she slammed the door to her old Mustang shut, she felt a little saver and calmer. It was funny what this car did to her, it somehow felt like home - well not exactly home, how could a car be 'home' - but it felt safe and comforting.
~°~°~°~
Clarice woke with the disturbing sounds of the doorbell, sleepily and not really awake she put on a dressing gown and went to the door.
"Who is it?" she asked grumpily.
"I've got a package for you Ms. Starling!" said the familiar voice of her mailman.
Clarice opened the door and received a quite big package from him. She signed and went back into the house.
Inside Starling curiously looked at the stamp and the sender address. It came from a Ms. Willer, in southern California. She didn't know someone called Willer, or did she? Well, of course, Clarice thought of the possibility that Ms.Willer stood for a certain Doctor, and the mere thought made her heart skip a beat or two. She opened it hastily and after putting tons of old newspapers aside she produced a frame, it was about 25 inches long and 10 inches wide and it was a picture of herself, drawn in charcoal, sitting at a breakfast table with a balcony in the background. Of course she knew that scenery, as well as she knew the artist. It was beautiful and Clarice all of a sudden couldn't hold back tears she put one hand over her mouth to prevent herself from sobbing openly. Her lithe body was cramped and trembled incessantly by all those emotions that she'd had to suppress all the time.
Suddenly, it all was too much, all kinds of feelings washed over her like a wave and she was overwhelmed, she couldn't think clearly. Clarice could feel the anger that built up inside of her - it changed into fury - and she threw that frame all across the room. It was a loud bang and then the clinging sound of glass that is breaking. The glass broke into thousands and thousands of the tiniest little pieces. It was thrown into all corners of the room. The frame and the picture lay inches apart on the floor right where they were smashed against the wall. Clarice slowly walked over there and picked up the picture. When she lifted it up a letter, which apparently has been hidden behind the picture, fell down. The fury changed into something totally different: interest and most of all curiosity.
This might be the first proof of life since she has left him. Clarice sat down at the table. Her fingers trembled slightly when she carefully put down the picture and opened up the letter.
It was one of those letters from the Doctor she was used to. Expensive and elegant. She unfolded the stationary and started reading.
Dear Clarice,
You're gone and I feel empty and alone. I hoped you'd finally stop to hate me and that you would stay with me - but now that there does not seem to be
anything worth living for left in this world -
I decided to say "Farewell, my little Clarice".
-
I hope you will achieve everything you've ever wished for and that your
life will be full-filling and satisfying.
In love
Hannibal Lecter, MD
That was all there was.
Clarice shook her head and read it all over again, and again. This was so very strange. It didn't sound like him at all, quite the reverse, it sounded as if he pretended that he'll do something he'd never in his wildest dreams, except he was forced to, would do. --- namely to kill himself ---
Again she shook her head:" What in hell are you trying to say, Hannibal? And why do you rely on me . you know I can't cope with it!" she said loudly.
Starling stood up and, with the letter in her hand, paced around nervously. He probably wanted her to show the letter to the FBI - but why for Heavens Sake . 'But, of course' she thought, he tried to get the FBI of his back . but did he really think this could work and why now of all times . and there were so many questions left . she decided to think it over before she'd show anything to the FBI.
Clarice got dressed mechanically while all the time deep in thoughts. Only when she sat in her car and started the engine she noticed where she was and what she was doing. She really could not remember how she got into her Mustang. Special Agent Clarice Starling sat there, smiling about herself.
~°~°~
The day didn't bring her to a solution. It was actually a quite boring day - mainly paperwork - surely they wanted to keep her quiet and it would take some time until they would assign her to a bigger case again.
So what was she supposed to do about his letter . he surely was waiting for her to react or at least act. She thought about what he had written and if it might compromise her anyhow. Clarice smiled, of course he had it written as if all the time she had fought against him and as if he had tried to persuade her to stay but hadn't succeeded, which actually was true somehow, except that she had started to feel something for him: excitement, interest and maybe love . and then he had set her free after some horrible time of torture. She scoffed.
*Hannibal you did it again. Again I don't have the slightest chance to get you out of my system . you'll be there forever won't you?!* . Clarice thought a little wistfully, but also kind of amused. She was not angry that he had written her, no not at all, she was just annoyed, because deep within herself she knew that she regretted the decision to leave him.. she regretted it so much that she had been furious when she had looked at the picture he had drawn for her .. she regretted that she hadn't finally surrendered to her feelings and slept with him.. she wanted it so much, at least her body in the first place, but couldn't bring herself to it ... and, she regretted to have given up all those intriguing discussions with him .. yes, she definitely regretted it. It crashed into her mind like a flash: she really would have approved of a life with a man who had killed several people. It seemed that she somehow made up her mind without even being aware of it. But it was too late now. She had left him there, made him feel miserable, at least that she was certain of. Would he take her back? Well, he had said so, but he might have changed his mind...
Clarice decided to sleep on it, the next day was Saturday and she didn't have to go to work. She hoped by then she would know what to do about her little problem.
~°~°~
The next morning Starling woke with the sound of her doorbell which was ringing constantly, as if somebody was leaning on it. Reluctantly she looked at her watch, it was 8.37 a.m. and much too early to Clarice's taste. She wondered what it would be this time, put on a dressing gown and stood up to get the door.
Clarice opened.
A young man was leaning against the doorframe. Clarice knew him from somewhere, she wondered from where. She looked past him at the car that was parked down the street. Inside sat another man.
"Can I help you?" she asked.
"Agent Starling?" he said more or less friendly, and pulled his credentials out of his jacket. "I'm Agent Petersen and I am supposed to accompany you back to the headquarters."
Clarice frowned. "Why, it is Saturday . I don't understand. .. ?"
"There's no more to say. I have my orders to bring you there, and actually I don't know either, but even if I knew, I was not supposed to tell you. You know the procedures, Starling!" he kind of smirked, and Clarice decided that very moment that she didn't like him.
"Ok. I'll be back in five," and she slammed the door right into his stupid grin.
~°~°~
Clarice sat in the back seat of the black FBI car, and thought very hard about what they could want this time. Actually she was a little worried. What if they somehow had found out about the real circumstances with Hannibal? But how could that have happened? Did he maybe tell them? . no he'd never do that!!! Never!! She shook her head ever so slightly.
'This could prove to be very interesting', Clarice thought to herself..
~°~°~ to be continued ~°~°~