Hindsight Chapter Four

A huge thank you to all who reviewed my original and revised Chapter Three..I wouldn't be sitting here writing if it wasn't for you guys!

Jeff- I don't think procreation is on his mind, no. I can safely say his plan is pretty twisted though. He sure is desperate to analyse the doctor..through any means possible..all will unfold in later chapters..

Blyndsyght – Thank you so much for your review! I was really worried that Gretchen was slipping into the age-old blind girl stereotype so your encouragement meant a lot. If I ever stray to such lows please alert me.

Jasmine- Thank you1 It's really great to have people like your OC! There are too many Mary Sues around, I guess..

Kyro - Your continued encouragement is greatly appreciated here at Casa Capponi..Biiig thanks!

Nitemaregirl – Yeah, I think a break from 'Clarice orientated' fics is good too…I still love her of course! Hugs

Early morning in a hospital for the 'Criminally Insane' is not really morning at all, in its truest essence. Rather, it is time for shift switches, toast burning and gruel stirring, Barney reflected with the damnation of those who have enjoyed but two hours solid sleep. The acidic tang of industrial cleaner floated down to his office on a warm breeze of cremated toast and he buried his nose in the rim of his coffee cup as he raised it to his lips to rid his nostrils of the scent.

"Barney?"

He turned at the voice. A young, rather weak chinned young man stood in the narrow doorway in a ill-fitting orderly uniform.

"Yes?"

"I'm supposed to give these to you. For Lecter. I've taken out all the paperclips and staples and stuff."

The young man sounded bored and Barney noticed with distaste a slick of oil around the sides of his nose.

"Thank-you. Are you absolutely positive you removed all sharp, hard or potentially self-damaging materials? I need you to be sure on this."

Perhaps his slight fear of the taller man prevented him from actually rolling his eyes, Barney thought, but the gesture was invisibly expressed none the less.

"Mmmmhmm. Absolutely, one hundred percent."

Barney nodded and took the thick bundle.

"Oh, and I've got a message for you about Gretchen someone. Got one for her too. She on your ward?"

A slight furrow appeared between his wide spaced eyes as Barney nodded again.

Gretchen Archer, yes. Where is it?"

"Huh? Oh, no it's a verbal message. She can't see nothing can she? Letter'd be no good for her."

A slight grin slid onto his face and Barney felt his dislike of the young man ratchet up a notch.

"Well tell me then and I shall deliver it directly." Barney replied tersely.

Further down the hall, Gretchen sat huddled in her usual spot facing out onto the bleak corridor. She was humming to herself softly- the first oral utterance she had made since her first confrontation with her cellmate. Dr Lecter could not quite place the tune but it had a lilting rhythm to it that spoke of Irish roots. It was pleasant to hear compared to the howls and clatters that would awake soon after their creators did. He was still lying on his bed, pursuing his battered copy of 'The Divine Comedy', awaiting his morning mail delivery. He thought he heard voices up by Barneys post.

As Barneys footsteps sounded down the narrow corridor, he pushed himself into a sitting position and swung his legs over the edge of the bed to rest on the cold floor. He had pondered asking the young woman to use the bed that night but she had never asked so he had decided to wait until she did. His sense of etiquette was arising again this morning as he surveyed the rather pathetic looking girl, had she slept properly since she arrived? He doubted it. However her insomnia didn't seem to be due to the general soundtrack of asylum nights consisting of wet snores, grunts, screams and incoherent ramblings. He thought that perhaps she had been a resident at one, if not more, other asylums of such nature as this delightful establishment.

Barney appeared in front of the cell and reached for the food carrier.

"Lot of mail today, doctor. Expecting anything?"

"Nothing specific, no. Ah, the latest Vogue."

He took his bundle over to his desk and placed the magazine separately, scanning the French lure lines on the cover.

"And I have a message for you, Miss Archer."

Barneys voice softened slightly when addressing the young woman. She looked up in surprise.

"Who from?"

Barney shifted slightly on his feet.

"Your…guardian. A Mr.-"

"Warwick?" The young woman broke in, worry clouding her features, anger and fear in her voice.

This was the first real show of emotion Dr Lecter had witnessed from the young woman and he looked up form his mail. Also…that name…it clanged on a memory in his palace- one he would rather ignore.

Barney looked slightly wary on broaching this topic.

"Yes. Mr Warwick has delivered me a very..interesting propersition. He has basically-"

"-offered to pay you a disgustingly large amount of money to fabricate reports of my unwieldy and uncontrollable violence?"

"He's done it before?"

She nodded, flicking an anxious look to her cellmate who was listening with interest.

"I thought he may have. I just wanted to tell you that I refused any such offer."

He watched as the young woman gave a tentative smile that was genuine but so out of practice it didn't seem to sit right on her pointed features.

"Thank you. I hear great kindness in your voice. I did not expect that." She tilted he head as she spoke as if surveying him.

Barney shrugged. He had the message he was to give to her on the tip of his tongue but that nervous, beaten smile just took it out of him. He would not- could not tell her such things. He promised himself he would have to sometime though. Sometime. Not now.

As Barney left, Dr Lecter turned his maroon gaze to his cellmate with new interest. She tilted her head towards him, her eyes staring blankly into the distance yet he almost felt as if her mind was connecting with him.

"Is it James Warwick of whom you speak?" he asked finally.

Her brows narrowed and her face tilted upwards.

"You know him?"

She sounded shocked, even slightly frightened.

"You could say that." The tone of his voice suggested it had not been an entirely pleasant acquaintance to say the least. "He is your guardian?"

She gave a rueful, rather strained smile.

"You could say that." She echoed. "He calls himself my guardian but I haven't seen him in the flesh for.." she broke off in thought. "..nearly twelve years I think."

"You have been in the system that long?"

She hunched defensively.

She flared up, like butane on a naked flame.

"Just because I haven't seen him doesn't mean I wanted to see him or was fettered by asylums. Why should you assume I'm some…some pathetic little head case since birth just because.."

Then as suddenly as it began, her tirade stopped as if someone had slapped her.

"I'm sorry." She mumbled, fumbling in her pocket for something and curling it into her fist.

Dr Lecter had watched her rant with his eyebrows slightly raised. Volatile little creature, she was when provoked. But then the sudden, almost instant repent…why?

Dr Lecter mused to himself as he watched her fingers stroke and knead at the soft, cold fur of her mouse.

He rose slowly and lowered himself down beside her.

"It's okay." He said softly.

"Don't patronise me." She hissed quietly.

"I don't intend to. What I do expect, however is a civil conversation with a fellow adult." His voice was soft but his carefully chosen words hit a chord in the young woman.

She nodded slowly. His scent fused with the cold air around her nostrils. He smelt clean but his body held an alluring smoky musk that was a scent all of its own. No emotions were betrayed in his scent- he was perfectly in control. When he was sleeping, however, he let out a kaleidoscope of conflicting and converging scents that teased her nose from across the cells. She wondered what his dreams were made of.

"What is your name?" she asked softly, turning to him at last.