Chapter Eight

AN: I am truly sorry for the delay in between chapters- all who read this story have been nothing but supportive and encouraging and have aided me greatly by taking time to review my work and I reward you so poorly with my tardiness. I apologise most profusely and beg your pardon and favour.

(A very humble)Capponi

It was late when the girl moved from the corner he had pinned her into. Her movements were jerky and he could still smell the tinge of fear on her. He looked up from his sketch of her and watched her move- slender fingers outstretched like antennae as she moved towards his bed. Upon feeling the knock of metal against her shins, she bent stiffly and sat on the edge- warily turning in his direction as if fearful or retribution- or perhaps, he mused, is defiance of him. Showing she was not to be spooked by him or encounters such as their previous one. We shall see.

She folded her arms around her bent knees in the classic position of insecurity and leaned against the wall, eyes lids relaxing slightly. Her breathing was still slightly laboured from her coughing fit, although she hadn't coughed again since. He didn't suppose the girl had had much in the way of vaccinations in her time, thus the ailment could turn to be rather serious. Such a pity, to die in a God forsaken place like this, he mused folding his arms around his body. The temperature- usually flirting around the zero mark at the best of times- seemed to have plummeted in the last few hours; the doctor was now able to see spectral plumes at each exhalation.

Soft clanking at the far end of the corridor signalled someone entering the main lobby where Barney was stationed, further metal-on-metal grinding and the gate at the far end was pulled open. The husky notes of a jazz song reached the doctors ears and he leaned back in his chair- Barney was back on duty, perhaps he could enquire as to the lack of heating. Dr Lecter hated the cold- it reminded him of snow and slate grey skies. Skies that seemed breathtakingly high to a six year old boy and snow stained red with the blood of a small deer…and a small girl.

With a small gasp he closed his eyes, slamming up all his mental fortifications against the thick, cold memories full of screams and unanswered prayers and when he opened them again, slowing his racing heart, Barney stood in front of his cell.

"Good evening, Barney" His voice sounded tired to his ears, but no fear was evident in it.

"Doctor." Barney inclined his head. "On orders to alert all of the prisoners on this floor as to a heating…problem that has occurred. Personally I think the problem is Dr Chilton's overspending on new CCTV facilities meaning the heating's had to take the brunt of finances axe." Barney gave the small camera aimed at the doctors cell a pointed glance. "If admin were to find out about that venture, Chilton would be sweating and we wouldn't be shiverin'."

The doctor forced a smile. "Thank you for alerting me, Barney. Do you have any idea how long this inconvenience will be upon us?"

Barney shrugged his massive shoulders. "Can't say yet, doctor. We been tol' to say just this night- but looks to me it could be a full week until the finances is renewed."

Later that night, when the lights were shut off the cold became more acute to the doctor- not the unpleasantness of it but the sensory stimulus, without the rival one of sight cut by the darkness, that was causing his barriers to break down and flashes of awful memory were skittering through his mind.

Gretchen had since vacated the bed and was back in her corner, shivering but resolute not to infringe his territory at night. He lowered himself onto the bed, still clinging to remnant of the girls' heat and scent like tissue paper snagged on a blackberry bush. He wrapped the thin covers around his body, warding off the cold dark that flooded his memory place like a physical being, battering against door welded shut and cracking locks rusted with pointed disuse. The warmth now surrounding his physical body was doing nothing for his mind- dizzied and panicked as he fell into an uneasy slumber.

Gretchen awoke stiff, cold and disorientated. The cold became painfully acute as she came fully to her self and she huddled closer into herself, wondering what awoke her with such a jolt that her heart was thudding and adrenaline zesting her veins. Then it came again, a gasping cry from the bed- a cry that spoke of such acute pain it was itself painful to hear.

Gretchen dithered in her corner, undecided. Was he asleep or just playing with her- waiting for her to approach so as to attack? Attack? her inner voice asked, scathingly. Why would he need to playact to attack you- you're sharing about 20 square feet of space, stupid girl.

Another cry and movement- a panicky thrash from the bed sent a coil of scent to her- the scent of purest, irrational fear- almost animalistic in its true form. She recognised the scent- a scent she had detected emanating from her own body time after time in the past. Awful memories stirred in her mind at it- like mud swirls in the clear of a disturbed pond- snatches of screams and taunts and running into the back room, excitement at finding mommy, excitement quickly staling to confusion at only finding mommy's legs, stiff and cold- confusion souring to fear as the connection between the bruised, swollen face hanging from the light and mommy is made, the smell of death in her nose- bitter and musky at the same time.

With a soft whimper, Gretchen squeezed her useless yes shut, hoping to blot out everything, to fall back to dreamless safety but to no avail- she can feel it building. Breathing fast and irregular, she picks her way across the cell- the raw chill from the stone floor shooting up her legs causing hairs on the back of her neck to stand up, fear causing her heart to beat in her throat. Finding the warmth of his body she feels for the blanket edges and he gives a soft plaintive keen that sounds so much younger than the body it comes from, his breathing is quick and irregular- catching and rushing as if sprinting. His head jerks on the pillow, burying into the blanket and she leans against him, lying on the bed beside his fevered presence.

Making soft soothing noises- as much for her as him- she cradled his small figure against her and in turn nestled into his heat- sweaty and fevered as it was- trying to quell the thick, cloaking scent of fear coming from the sleeping man. His breathing became more regular and he leaned into her embrace, his lithe body still twitching like a sleeping spaniel. Just as she thought he had calmed back into sleep, he gave a great cry and she felt his body surge as he sat bolt upright, breathing hard.

She reached to him, felt his back curved and taut, and rubbed her hand over the soft ridges of his spine in a clumsy attempt at comfort. He stiffened under her attentions, before lying back down with his back to her without telling her to leave the bed. She considered returning to her corner but the faint threat of those awful memories seemed to cling to the place and she lowered her face to him.

"Doctor? Can I-"

He sighed softly and one arm reached back to pull a corner of the blanket over her leg. Taking this as consent she moved tentatively under the cover- relishing in the warmth whilst being vigilant to refrain from any contact between herself and the doctor.

She thought he was sleeping again and started slightly out of her own impending slumber as his voice reached her.

"Do you get nightmares? I can smell your fear."

She tensed, then realised he wasn't toying with her. His tone was as open as she had heard him yet.

"Yes- memories of…of things that have happened. I don't get them so much any more. I try to keep then in their place but…"

"Sometimes they break out?"

"Mmmm." She had never spoken to anyone about her nightmares- or her memories that fuelled them. It seemed wrong to be doing so now- as if she was doing something very private in a room full of strangers.

A long silence followed and she again thought him asleep.

"I get them too." He said softly. "Nightmares built on the worst moments of your life. Ensnaring you in to living in those moments again and again."

She nodded, not caring weather he could see her or not. It felt…good to have someone share her pain with- her fear and weakness. The fact this infamous, seemingly omnipotent man could have the same Achilles heel as her was…soothing somehow. Seemed to bestow a film of humanity on his wicked soul.

She reached to him then, as sleep began to cloak her mind, and placed her head close behind his, so she could hear the soft tide of his breathing and placed a hand tentatively on his waist feeling the soft beat of his heart.

As sleep claimed the woman behind him, Dr Lecter smiled softly, revelling in the strange feeling of human contact- real, meaningful contact in that slender hand on his waist. He may owe Mr James Warwick a nod of thanks for sending this woman- his ugly crime and uglier acts after the deed leading to the death of his patient had produced this one, beautiful entity. A balance of sorts was tipping up from the side of damage and towards that of rebuilding and regenerating. He saw a future for this woman for the first time- saw beyond his involvement with her to the possibility of a real life for her- away from this place. This was no place for her. It never had been. His mind began mulling over all the facts he had on her and her background as he fell into sleep, awaiting an answer to be formulated to remedy the new emotions released by this small epiphany.

As he slipped fully from consciousness, he saw a faint glimmer of hope for Gretchen Archer, as an astronomer observes a faint star in a distant galaxy.