BLEEDING HEARTS

Clarice stared regretfully out the window overlooking the garden at the back of her house. There was a path that led from the back door out and around two porcelain fountains, past beautiful rose bushes and several other types of flowers including perennials, chrysanthemums, tulips and daffodils. Clarice's favourite flowers, however, were the bleeding hearts that were planted beside the wooden gate that led to an exit through the hedge. Bleeding hearts are small, delicate flowers that droop towards the ground. The ones in Clarice's garden were both pink and white but were, this particular evening, dark red in reflection of the setting sun. She turned her head from the window and saw Hannibal in the kitchen preparing the evening's meal. My heart bleeds for you, she thought to herself as she stared at him.

It had been about a week since Hannibal and Clarice had last left the confines of their house. They had both called and excused themselves from work and therefore felt they had granted themselves sufficient planning time before they were missed. Clarice found herself longing to be outside again. She wanted to sit in her garden at the very least, but Hannibal had warned her against doing so. She wondered at how he could have so much restraint over himself but remembered quickly that he had been locked up for several years and thus kept inside for a very long time. She shuddered at the thought of being incarcerated.

"Clarice," Hannibal's smooth, melodic voice suddenly rang from the kitchen. "It is time to eat. I have prepared a meal indeed fit for a king, and therefore sufficient for you." She grinned at the compliment.

During their time together over the last few days, Hannibal and Clarice had become significantly closer. They had experienced a new bond somehow; a new reason to protect one another. Remember that it was this sense of obligation that spawned their relationship in the first place. Clarice strove to protect Hannibal from the hands of the law and confines of his cell, and Hannibal would make sure that nobody stood in her way. Each felt they were doing one another a favour.

But there was more to their seemingly basic relationship. They shared more than a simple mutual understanding. They shared an intense passion for one another, a desire to be near one another, and the need to listen and to be heard. It was these things that their romance thrived upon.

Clarice made her way into the kitchen where candles were lit upon the black marble countertops. Their glowing cast shadows across the wooden floor and along the dark walls. As she entered, Hannibal's face was illuminated at the table where he had set out plates, silverware, wine glasses (not to mention a lovely bottle of merlot), and the meal for the evening. The doctor had prepared marinated steaks, mashed potatoes, an assortment of vegetables and a chocolate soufflé. He had not held back from trying to please Clarice, nor was he anywhere near displeased with himself. The meal was fantastic.

As they ate, they discussed the latest news they had heard, books they had read, thoughts they had, and even the occasional mention of the past. However, their conversation did not stray to the subject of their unpleasant situation. It was best not to ruin the evening with worry and apprehension.

When dinner was finished and the candles had burned low, Hannibal stood to clear the table. Clarice went to assist him when their doorbell rang. Clarice turned from the kitchen and made her way to the front of the house. She paused beside intercom that allowed her to communicate to guests waiting at the gate. She was slightly fearful of who the guest, or possibly guests, were. Or are they intruders? she thought anxiously. Hannibal followed close behind her and gave her a signal to follow him. They retreated to the back of the house into a room that had an escape door to the backyard. They were prepared to make a run for it should that be there only option.

"This could be the end, Hannibal," Clarice whispered. Hannibal grunted slightly as he moved to her and wrapped his arms around her. "I do not want us to lose what we have. This paradise we've created."

"Paradise is an illusion, Clarice, and human emotion is based on illusions. Keep your illusions and your good memories inside of your head and do not ever forget them. They will be your saving grace when the worst comes to take its toll on you."

Clarice meant to question Hannibal's last statement when suddenly the phone rang. They simply let it ring. After several seconds, the answering machine could be heard from the room down the hall.

A voice spoke: "Hello, this message is for la Docteur Clèter. This is Alyane Dubois from the office. I am just calling from my cell phone outside your home since there seems to be no answer. I meant to drop off a package for you, but I will get it to you another time. Please take care, Docteur Clèter." There was a click, and then silence.

Clarice turned around in Hannibal's arms. She said, "does that mean..?"

"Yes, there is no need for panic for the time being. However, I do suggest that, should we ever be confronted with a similar situation, we make our way to the upper level without hesitation to check exactly who is waiting at our gate. We should try to reserve our sanity and self control."

Clarice mused at the prospect of Hannibal being "insane" when quite clearly she was the one losing her grip.

The made their way to the living room where Clarice switched on the television. Understanding her train of thought, Hannibal used the remote to switch to the news stations. They sat down together and, after several minutes of miscellaneous stories, the broadcast switched to the story they intended to hear.

The newsperson spoke: "It appears that Dr. "Hannibal the Cannibal" Lecter has struck again just outside of Saratoga Springs, New York in the United States." Hannibal winced at the nickname. "A young woman was found early this morning with various organs removed from her body, the trademark 'sweetbreads' that have been the doctor's claim to fame. It appears that he has been moving from place to place without haste so everyone is warned to be on the lookout. Also, take care to watch out for the killer's partner Clarice Starling, shown here..." There was more mentioned in the broadcast, but it was already clear that the situation was only intensifying in danger.

"Hannibal, who is the one performing all the murders back in the States? Haven't you got any ideas?" Clarice inquired.

Hannibal looked thoughtful, and then said, "probably no more than an avid fan, Clarice." He seemed slightly amused, but censored his emotion when he noticed her disapproval. The joke was only humourous to him.

"I'm sorry, Clarice, that comment was not in good taste," the doctor apologized. He sensed her quiet mood and realized that she was trembling. He tried to answer her question, "the killer is probably someone who wishes to confuse the FBI. Someone who, probably affected by some other medium, finds relief in both killing selected victims and tampering with the police. I do not doubt that he has been in trouble before and feels that he has been treated unjustly. But I do doubt that he discards of the removed organs the way I did. It's all a game, Clarice. The game is what makes him happy; it is his paradise. His paradise is his illusion, and illusions satisfy the human mind. That is why he murders."

Clarice's mood improved slightly, but she still feared the hour when people would recognize their faces on television and search for them at their home. She felt that the end was very near. There seemed to be nowhere to turn, she though despairingly. No one to run to except... Hannibal.

Hannibal was the one who kept her grounded. He had rescued her from a life that was going nowhere He had removed Paul Krendler. He had delivered her from the Verger Estate. He had helped her deal with her past; he had silenced the lambs. He questioned her and challenged her, and yet was polite, and respectful. He used his cunning to benefit her, not to threaten her, and she appreciated that. Even now, when all odds were against them, he was prepared to take risks for her, to protect her, and to, if need be, take all the blame if only to spare her life. There was no question about what he would do for her. Even at her weakest moments, he valued her above all else. There was no support like that anywhere else in the world, she imagined.

She turned to Hannibal and stared at him with an admiring, grateful expression. Tears threatened to flow from her eyes despite the fact that she was now smiling. With wise understanding, Hannibal's eyes stared back reflected her own emotions. They met each other with a long and passionate kiss.

Nothing, not even police pounding on their door, could have separated Hannibal Lecter and Clarice Starling that night.