"The Ties That Bind"
by: Holly Graham
A sequel to "The Price of Infamy"
Author's Note: The characters depicted within this story that belong to Thomas Harris are his property and are being used here for entertainment purposes only. There is no money being made from this story and no copyright infringement is intended. All other characters belong to the author.
Chapter 1: New Lover, Old Regret
Hannibal Lecter stirred and rolled slowly over onto his side in bed. His head ached slightly from too much wine the evening before and he rubbed his forefingers against his temples to alleviate the pressure for a moment while attempting to convince himself to go back to sleep. But despite the fact that his fatigued body screamed for more rest, his brain refused to allow it. It was Sunday and he needed to get up and check the newspapers as he did every week.
Dr. Lecter peered through one cracked eyelid at the digital alarm clock on the oak bedside table across the other side of the bed. He had to lift his slightly balding, gray haired head to see the clock over the svelte form of his live-in lover and companion Aurora. He saw that it was already mid morning; their late night meant a late start in the morning and he groaned slightly.
He opened both eyes and stretched slowly, arching his back lazily like a cat. It was time to get up, the day was wasting. Beside him, Aurora did not stir. She was a heavy sleeper to begin with and Lecter knew that he had worn her out last night. He smiled as he remembered their fevered, urgent lovemaking of the night before. They had coupled again and again until finally, exhausted, they had both at last been sated.
His eyes traced the outline of the curve of her hip as she slept on her side with her hands tucked under her pillow and her long white blonde hair spread above her head like a halo. The white silk sheet that covered both their bodies came up just under her shoulders and he saw that one of her creamy breasts was partially exposed. He debated for a moment on taking her rose colored nipple into his mouth and waking her up with his gentle but persistent sucking.
Aurora was unlike any woman Dr. Lecter had ever been physically intimate with in his life, not that he'd necessarily ever had the chance of maintaining an extensive social life though. She was a great deal younger than he, 27, and currently enrolled at the Universidad Complutense de Madrid to obtain her doctorate in psychology. Dr. Lecter had discovered that being young and from a generally more liberated generation, Aurora was extremely sexually open-minded. She often suggested things to him and introduced things to him that initially surprised him because of her forwardness then subsequently delighted him. She often initiated their lovemaking herself and she was very responsive when he did.
Dr. Lecter shook his head slightly. No, he would not wake her up. Although as he thought about her sexually and stared at her exposed breast, he felt his body responding. But this morning he would let her sleep. Last night they had attended the opera "Faust" at the beautiful Teatro Real in Madrid, Spain, a few miles from their home. They had both drank too much wine and stayed up far too late but they both so enjoyed an evening of sinful pleasures; namely opera, wine, and sex.
"Faust" had always amused Dr. Lecter. The opera tells the story of an old doctor who sells his soul to the devil for the opportunity to become young again and win the heart of a fair maiden, Marguerite.
Always upon viewing "Faust" Dr. Lecter's thoughts would turn to his own beloved, his Clarice. It had been three years since he'd last seen her, depleted from the rigors of child birth but as always radiant. Thinking she was asleep, he had crept into her room to view her new baby daughter, Serena, and to whisper a bittersweet farewell to them both before leaving the country. She had surprised him by whispering 'goodbye' as he had stole for the door to leave. He remembered turning back and seeing her smile tiredly at him. She must have known that he would be unable to stay away from seeing her and her child and she had understood his need to do so. Even better, that had seemed to be alright with her.
Now as he left the large mahogany sleigh bed that he shared with Aurora, Hannibal Lecter felt the all too familiar twinge of regret that he had learned to live with and bury over the last few years. He had decided years ago to let Clarice live her life thinking she was truly happy with Will Graham. Lecter crinkled his mouth in disgust at the thought of Clarice Starling and his former nemesis Will Graham married. They had been married for almost four years now and Dr. Lecter wondered if she still believed herself happy with him or if she had finally learned the truth for herself; the truth that he himself had tried to show her when he had kidnapped Will years ago, torturing and crucifying him but ultimately failing to kill him, the truth that Will could never love her and take care of her like he could.
He remembered faking his own death at Clarice's hand so that he could attempt to capture a life he had come to long for so much; a "normal" life with a wife and a child without worrying about the FBI breathing down his neck every time he turned around. He had come to the conclusion that he could only accomplish that if they thought him dead. Of course he had hoped against reason that one day Clarice would be the one to fill the role of wife but thus far it was not meant to be. Dr. Lecter remembered making an appearance at Clarice and Will's wedding in attempts to stop it. He had shown himself to Clarice and she had been overcome with emotion at the sight of him alive. But alas, she had professed her love for Will and had asked Lecter to leave them alone. Until now he had abided by her wishes and for now would continue to do so. At least until she contacted him requesting him to rescue her.
Before he had left her birthing room the last time he had seen her, Dr. Lecter had instructed Clarice to contact him when she needed him by placing an ad in the agony columns of the Times, the International Herald-Tribune, and the China Mail. He had instructed her to address the ad to A. A. Aaron so that it would be first and to sign it as Hannah. Every Sunday, Hannibal Lecter dutifully walked to the huge newsstand in Madrid to purchase these news papers. He also, for the fun of it, usually picked up a copy of the National Tattler as well. But thus far, there had been no pleas of help from Clarice.
Dr. Lecter padded naked into the bathroom and quietly closed the door. He shook three ibuprofen tablets into his hand and swallowed them down with a sip of water. Then he turned the cold water on in the sink and splashed his face with it, wincing as errant icy water struck his chest. He toweled off and peered at himself in the large mirror. His upper body remained strong through his devout workouts and he had managed to trim down his stomach as well. He had stopped dying his hair and let his now natural gray come through. He thought it made him look old. Dr. Lecter smiled as he remembered Aurora's words to him as she had run her hands through it.
"It's sexy, babe," she had cooed in her beautiful Spanish accent. "It makes you look distinguished."
And so he had left it. He often caught himself wondering what Clarice would think of it now.
Hannibal Lecter and Aurora Perpiñán González had met at the University four years ago during a lecture at the art school on the art of the French Revolution. While that genre of art did not appeal to him per se, it had given him a much desired opportunity to visit the art school and ultimately the University as a whole.
As he had sat only half listening to the lecturer, she had caught his eye as he had roamed over the crowd. She sat on the opposite end that he did several rows ahead of him. Her long white blonde hair had hung loose over her shoulders and down the back of her seat. He had watched how it would swish with every slight movement of her head and he had found himself wishing he was sitting behind her so that he could smell her shampoo and perfume if she wore any. He mused that if he had sat behind her he would be able to put his hands on his knees and feel the strands of her hair brush against them as it moved. He had found himself entranced by the movement of her gorgeous hair. Dr. Lecter had been so fascinated by the movement, color, and texture of it that he had not realized he'd been staring until she had turned around, met his gaze, and smiled. Embarrassed at having been caught staring, he had nodded his head, and smiled back. His eyes had swung back to the lecturer then but had flicked in her direction for the remainder of the speech.
Afterward as he had been strolling the halls of the art school, his hands clasped behind his back, taking in the full scene of it, she had approached him and begun walking with him. He had found her easy to chat with and very intelligent. They had started off conversing in Spanish but moved easily into Italian and finally English and Dr. Lecter had been pleasantly surprised at her knowledge and intellect. They had lunched at one of the University cafes and had ended up spending the entire day together, walking the University and then finally the numerous fine museums that Madrid offered.
Despite her age, he and Aurora shared many interests and tastes. And Dr. Lecter had been delighted to learn that she was pursuing a doctorate in psychology. They would talk for hours about the subject and she introduced him to many new lines of thinking within the field. They loved each other's company and it was not long before they were seeing one another every night. And it was not long after that before he was sharing her bed.
Naturally Dr. Lecter had been cautious and reserved at the beginning of their courtship. He had not told her his real name or his real history. But eighteen months ago, once their relationship had reached the point of commitment and they had discussed moving in together, he had confided in her his true identity.
Aurora at first had been shocked and taken aback by his confession and she had not wanted to believe him. Being a psychology student she of course had heard of Hannibal Lecter from America but being as young as she was and having been born and raised in Spain, his crimes seemed to have a surreal quality to them and she decided that he was no longer that man, instead he was the man she had fallen in love with.
She was right in some respects, Hannibal Lecter had changed. As he had grown older, his sociopathic tendencies had lessened. In fact, he had not harmed or killed anyone in many years. Quite a bit of his old self had come out when he had kidnapped Will and Joshua Graham and attempted to kill them, however, but that had been for revenge, not to satisfy an urge per se.
Dr. Lecter shrugged, interrupting his reverie. He pulled his silk robe off the hook on the back of the bathroom door and slipped easily into it. He opened the door and walked quietly passed the bed where Aurora was still asleep. He descended the stairs of their chateau and walked into the kitchen, intent on making some breakfast before making his way into Madrid to the newsstand. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out some eggs.
Thirty minutes later Dr. Lecter placed the last rolled sweet omlette onto a serving plate and placed the plate into the microwave to warm. He turned to the sink and began to rinse the utensils, bowls, and pan he had dirtied. As he rinsed a bowl under the steady stream of hot water he was suddenly aware that Aurora had entered the room, he could smell her coconut shampoo. He did not turn around and listened as she walked up behind him.
Aurora, being the same height as Dr. Lecter, put her arms around his neck and planted small suckling kisses on the back of his neck. He continued washing the dishes under the hot water but his movements slowed as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back into her kisses. Aurora ran her hands slowly down the front of his robe and undid the tie around his waist.
"Turn around," she whispered into his ear.
Dr. Lecter turned around obediently, not bothering to wipe his hot, wet hands off. He glanced down and noticed that Aurora was wearing his tuxedo shirt from last night, it hung just below her buttocks. The sight of her in his rumpled shirt caused the blood to pound in his veins and he gripped her tightly around the waist, crushing her to him. They kissed, tongues entwined, and he ran his hands through her waist length hair. She gasped with delight as his hands, still hot and damp from the water, ran underneath the shirt and over her body. He lifted her up, turned her around, and set her on the counter as she slipped the robe off his shoulders.
"I love you Hannibal," Aurora whispered feverishly.
Two hours later, Hannibal Lecter returned home from his weekly trip to the newsstand with his usual four papers under his arm. He walked past the study and saw Aurora perched on a stool in front of the computer screen, doing research online for part of her dissertation. He smiled as he saw her reading glasses set slightly askew on her nose because of her uneven ears and a pencil between her teeth that she absently chewed as she read. Dr. Lecter was suddenly overcome with feelings of love and he realized how much he cared for Aurora. But he also knew that he could never love her the way he loved Clarice Starling. She was the only woman who knowing full what he had done and what he was capable of had come to him unafraid and looked him in the eye and conversed pleasantly with him. And she was the only woman who had ever matched him intellectually; even Aurora fell short of that at times. But for now in his own way, he would continue to love and cherish Aurora. He moved quietly into the living room and sat down in his leather recliner, one leg crossed over the other, settling in to read the papers.
After having perused the agony columns of the first three papers, he sighed and set them on the floor, nothing again this week from Clarice. He opened the National Tattler and skipped over the first few pages of articles that proclaimed a celebrity had been caught on a romantic trip with his married co-star. On the fifth page, Lecter stopped suddenly. The headline in 36 - font caught his eye, "Clarice Starling-Graham To Retire From FBI."
To be continued. You know the drill: I write, you review!
