SEARCHING
With the documentary having aired several weeks previous and the curiosity of the general public somewhat abated, Clarice thought it time they take their son out for an extended period to give him some fresh air.
With the baby now just over six weeks old, they had only dared take him out for small trips around town. Once or twice, they ventured out for lunch or dinner, Hannibal wary to attempt anything longer than an hour or two.
"Come on, H…For the most part, after the documentary, people seem to be less afraid of you."
"Yes, well, the only problem with people being less afraid is that they are also much more likely to approach, Clarice."
"Yeah, so?"
This was not a problem for Clarice, as she loved showing off her family, but Hannibal was not as trusting as she. Ever protective, he loomed whenever someone approached to coo over and comment on the baby. He didn't relish an entire day of it. After a brief discussion during which Hannibal voiced his extensive concerns, with no small degree of trepidation he conceded and agreed to take the family for their first day trip.
"Very well, Clarice. If you would like to venture out as a family, you may choose our destination and I shall be by your side throughout."
"I have a great idea, if you're game, H."
Clarice decided it would be fun to spend the day exploring the 160 plus acres of the National Zoo. Much as Hannibal had no desire, for his family he would make the effort, though he suspected they would be as much an attraction as the exhibits.
Clarice busied herself putting together a large bag filled with diapers, spare clothing, and all the items she believed might be needed throughout the afternoon.
Knowing the security measures at a Washington tourist attraction would be fairly extensive Hannibal took to the Internet to assay the protocol. Unlike the Air and Space Museum, and one or two other Smithsonian sites, there would be no metal detector required for entry at the zoo. Still, there would be a physical bag check and no doubt intense scrutiny of his person. With all the press surrounding his family, Hannibal reasoned carrying a concealed weapon with the possibility of it being uncovered publicly would be an ill-considered decision in a situation that would not require lethal force, thus, he left the Harpy at home.
The website cautioned there were exhibition areas and buildings where strollers would have to be left outside, therefore, Hannibal measured it would be best to carry the baby. It would not only ease their ability to move through the park, it would allow them to shield the child from curious bystanders. Worried the effort would be too much on his wife, with pleasure, Hannibal consented to carry his son for the day.
They parked the car not far from the entrance to the park. Hannibal assisted Clarice from the car and helped her unload the Gucci diaper bag filled with supplies. Pulling an item from the bag that had a similar pattern Clarice presented it to Hannibal. It was brown, with leather straps and a small teddy bear on the logo. Clarice stood in front of her husband holding the object the sight of which caused Hannibal to immediately furrow his brow.
"I said I would carry the boy, my Love."
"And this will help you carry the boy, H."
She stood, unshakable in her determination, saying nothing. It was obvious she would not budge.
Hannibal was not pleased.
"Is this really necessary, Clarice?"
"Hey, at least it's Gucci."
"Clarice…"
"Oh, stop bellyaching about it. It'll make it easier for you in the long run, H. When the baby falls asleep, which he most likely will for most of the day, he'll be far more comfortable and you won't have to worry about shifting him when your arms get tired and waking him up. Not to mention, he'll be able to listen to your heartbeat. If you don't want to do it, I will."
Hannibal stood outside his Bentley, looking at the baby carrier Clarice held out in front of him. It isn't as if he felt it wearing it might be an affront to his manhood, it just seemed, to him, to be unnecessary. He was, after all strong enough to carry a twelve or thirteen pound infant for the day. He stood quietly and considered the practicality of having the baby sleeping soundly against his body. Hannibal scuffed his foot along the ground and kicking up the sand around him, relented.
"Very well, Clarice. Strap the damn thing on me, then."
Now within the park walking along the queue for entry, Hannibal's eyes shifted to the security personnel. Two men and one woman worked the detail. The woman was dealing with a rather large family all of whom seemed to be carrying bags of various sizes, all needing to be checked.
No, she would most likely not be available when it came time to screen Hannibal and Clarice.
This turn of events was disappointing, as Hannibal believed Clarice might have been more comfortable with the woman. Hannibal certainly would have. Of the pair remaining, one of the men was an older gentleman, the other, exceptionally young and rail-thin.
Hannibal hoped the older and likely more practiced gentleman would be available as he would be less likely to be flustered by their presence. The youngster seemed a tad enthusiastic for Hannibal's taste, moving around the patrons low, prowling like a hyena scanning a carcass. He appeared to suspect even the most amiable and forthright patrons surveying them carefully. He behaved much less like the security guard he was and much more like the senior law enforcement officer he believed himself to be.
Hannibal, briefly distracted by the couple standing in line immediately in front of him, watched the interaction. They had one child, a son of about five.
As the boy chased around his mother's heels unchecked, Hannibal judged the woman's parenting and found it wanting.
An ill behaved, poorly raised heathen to be sure. My son will be well mannered; especially with a firm handed mother such as Clarice. I am a lucky man to have such an exceptional woman as mother to my son.
As they moved forward, Hannibal counted the dwindling number of patrons ahead and when compared to the speed with which the younger man worked he ascertained they would most likely wind up with the youthful man. He was not pleased.
Having assessed the situation in much the same way, Clarice noticed her husband's discomfort, leaned against his body and whispered, "We might get the Junior G-Man, H. Please tell me you left your Harpy home."
With a playfully condescending tone, Hannibal confirmed, "Not to worry, Clarice. The Smithsonian website specifically mentions knives and other stabby things should not be carried, therefore, it is tucked safely beneath my pillow."
Clarice bumped her hip against his and flirted, "Ooh, H… kinky!"
"Yes, well, now that you have been cleared for such activity I was merely planning ahead. It has been quite some time, my Love. This is an ill-timed outing. I would have preferred to remain at home today."
"There'll be plenty of time for us, tonight, H."
"I will count the minutes, my Love."
Clarice reached her right hand for his left hand, clasping it gently, she squeezed. The desire in her grasp communicated a meaning that was more than clear to her husband.
Clariiice…
His eyes shifted to hers as a smile tugged briefly at the corners of his mouth.
The line beginning to move again, his attention quickly turned forward, though his thoughts clearly remained with his wife, his hand tightening around hers, clutching. Needing.
Feeling his father's movement, the baby gripped Hannibal's shirt, his small hand shaped similarly to his father's, the fingers equally long and elegant.
Clarice noted the similarity.
He's so much like his father, my special men.
Looking down, Clarice studied her husband's hand still holding her hand so gently, his thumb continually tracing tiny patterns on her skin.
His palm is so wide.
The now-removed duplicate middle digit had originally expanded the breadth of his hand. She ran her thumb over the scar as the pair walked side-by-side, moving forward along as the line surged.
So many scars…he's had to give up so much…he deserves to be happy.
Clarice began to obsess over the fact that Hannibal had been forced to maim himself in order to blend in. The rare form of mid-ray polydactylism of his left hand making him far too easy to spot, he had been forced to remove the finger. Clarice wondered how he felt, having to cut off part of himself to avoid detection. Perhaps, one day, she might ask. Now, she just wanted to touch him, to comfort him with her body as much as he had been a constant comfort to her.
The pregnancy had been difficult, restricting their physical activities. Clarice, now fully healed, began to encourage physical contact with Hannibal. Sensing her want and having similar need, he continued to stroke his thumb along the side of her hand. The feeling of the digit tracing along her skin sent shivers the length of his spine.
"Tonight, Clarice?"
"Come hell or high water, H."
Now at the front of the line Clarice moved through the checkpoint quickly, undergoing a brief search and inspection of her bag. When Hannibal moved forward, the security guard being not more than twenty years old and meeting Hannibal's intense maroon eyes stepped back quickly, obviously taken by surprise.
"Uh…hello, Doctor Lecter."
"Hello, young man."
The guard stood in front of Hannibal and surveyed the Gucci carrier strapped to his chest. His expression quizzical, he was weighing the options as he circled Hannibal, assessing the object.
Knowing the over-zealous youngster wouldn't miss the opportunity to interact with him in a more official capacity, Hannibal prepared himself for the eventuality of the examination.
Come on now hurry this along Mr. Delusions of Grandeur. We both know you won't let me through your line without a bit of poking and prodding in front of your friends.
The overeager young man did not disappoint.
"Sorry, Sir but that baby thingy is kinda like a bag. I think I'm gonna have to look it over."
Hannibal winced at the young man's grammar and asked politely, "While it is strapped to my body with my child inside or may I hand my son to my wife temporarily so you may more thoroughly inspect?"
His expression vacant, the young man responded, "Hmm…dunno. I guess that's up to you, but, it'd probably go faster if the baby wasn't in it. It's really strappy, you know?"
Hannibal raised a hand, directing the young man to wait.
"Just a moment. I'll need my wife's assistance."
Hannibal waved his wife over as he lifted the baby from the pack around his chest.
"What's up, H? You having a problem?"
"Not as such, Clarice. Would you mind holding our son for a moment? It seems the carrier is subject to search."
Clarice approached slowly. Her eyes were fixed on Hannibal, though he could see from the slight deviation in the placement of her pupils, that she was assessing the guard in her periphery. She was obviously angry.
"The carrier is subject to search, or you are, H?" There was anger in her tone and a hint of recrimination directed at the security guard.
"As we are seeking entry and this young man determines our access, I don't believe that has any bearing, Clarice. Not to worry. He has but to check the carrier and we will be on our way."
As Hannibal handed the baby to Clarice and the pair discussed the situation, realizing what an opportunity he had the boy ran to a nearby friend and whispered very quickly.
Turning toward the guard Hannibal attuned his ear, picking up the words clearly.
"Take out your cell and film this. Nobody's gonna believe I got to search Hannibal the Cannibal!"
Unaware of the young man's comment but certain of his intent, Clarice removed the baby from her husband's arms and clutched him defensively to her chest as she stepped back. She could see the simmering anger in Hannibal's eyes and assumed the young man had said something offensive. Imperceptible to all aside from Clarice, within her husband's irises from the point at which the maroon radiated, ringing the pupils there were tiny flecks of a brighter shade of red; a crimson that sparked when he was angry or overcome with passion. The passion had no place here but the anger, faced with a barely post-pubescent young man seeking a measure of entertainment at his expense, the anger was certainly justified.
Having made the arrangement, the young man returned to Hannibal and, facing the camera smiling widely, began to search the carrier attached to the wary doctor.
The pimple-faced guard stood to Hannibal's right side and began to look within the pouch of the carrier as the good doctor stared forward, seething.
Finding nothing suspicious, the young man should have stopped, but instead gave the camera a thumbs-up continuing though there was no reason for him to do so. He smoothed his hands over the outside of the leather rigging, and tracked along the straps feeling the edges of the seams. He then boldly moved out of Hannibal's line of sight and, in full view of Clarice, turned again to face the cell phone. The guard slowly slipped his hands beneath the straps, running them up and down Hannibal's back, now obviously searching the man's body and not the child's conveyance.
Hannibal's body immediately stiffened, the offense now solidifying his resolve.
Clearly offended by the hands now moving over his torso and not the carrier, Hannibal shifted uncomfortably, transferring his weight from one leg to the other as the guard moved leisurely behind him, smoothing his hands across the span of his back, reaching under his arms to his abdomen and chest.
Reflexively raising his hands in the air above his head, Hannibal's body language signaled the very moment the bag check evolved into a search. Although his body remained still, Hannibal's attention shifted to Clarice, holding their child. Immolation in his gaze as his mind churned, his nostrils repeatedly flared, sub-consciously memorizing the scent of the man.
You feel the need to certify your manhood in front of my wife and my infant son? For the insult to my family, I should kill you where you stand.
Eyes molten though the brilliant man outwardly appeared sedate, his wife noticed his jaw clenching and saw the homicide forming in his eyes as the glowering orbs remained fixated somewhere off in the distance. The rage began to build within her as well, agonized by the obvious profiling of her husband for the young man's self-aggrandizement.
As the unsolicited hands passed over his body, Hannibal slowed his heart rate and breathed deeply. The barrel of his ribs expanded to capacity with each inhalation as the now overlooked holder stretched tightly across his chest. Flashes of blood red began to strobe behind his eyelids, his anger pulsing within his ears as he briefly entertained his response to this offense had he had not been a married man.
I could snap your undernourished neck and watch the light leave your eyes before I drop you to the pavement, you insolent waif. You should bow down on the ground before my wife and child and genuflect, as my promise to Clarice is the only reason you will be alive after sundown. Push this too far, and my promise will be broken.
This level of uninvited physical contact was not something expressly enjoyed by a man with a history such as Hannibal, not to mention, the indignity of the process as a small crowd began to form, murmuring their curiosity to one another as they watched the very public probing.
As the guard's hands moved over the pelvis and down the thigh, feeling at the front pockets, Hannibal flinched. This was far too close for comfort.
"Mind your hands, young man."
What should have been a cursory inspection had become an intrusive, uncomfortable and very, very public frisking and Clarice had had enough of it. She walked up to the guard and shoved his shoulder, forcing him back several steps.
"Hey, Junior! He isn't waiting to be Mirandized, you know."
Her action garnered the attention of the older guard. The man turned, saw the activity and shouted, "Hey, Matt! Are you crazy? No touching the patrons!"
Hannibal snapped his head toward the young man so quickly the whelp jumped back two steps in fear.
"Yes, Matt…no touching," he hissed.
The fledgling sentry held his hand out in apology.
Hannibal's eyes shifted from the boy's hand and back to his face. Deadpan he announced, "Forgive me if I decline. I think I've endured all the physical contact I am comfortable with for the day."
"My bad, I was just trying to do my job."
"Bullshit." Clarice countered as she handed the baby back to her husband.
While her anger didn't approach his, her hormones were in flux and her self-control, unlike Hannibal's, was at this moment absolutely non-existent. She didn't appreciate the way her husband was being treated and didn't feel the need or possess the desire to withhold her heightened agitation.
No longer encumbered by the baby, Clarice walked up to the young man holding the cell phone and extended her hand, palm up, obviously requesting the phone. When the young man stood, slack-jawed, unmoving, Clarice reached across, gripped the phone within his hand and ripped it from his hold.
"Hey, what're you doing? Give me back my phone!"
Pointing a finger in his face she warned, "Back off, you little shit!"
Turning her attention to the recording, she accessed the file, deleted the video and flipped the phone back to the visibly upset owner. She then approached the guard and mocked the employee just loud enough for Hannibal and the young man to hear, but no one else.
"Just because your dick is too small to get job done doesn't mean I'm gonna let you compensate at my husband's expense you pathetic little fuck."
Hannibal, busy securing his son within the carrier, urged, "Clarice…please…"
"No, H! What the hell? You were just gonna let this little shit manhandle you? He was so far up your ass, I swear he was a minute away from giving you a prostate exam!"
The baby now secured, Hannibal pursued the situation, "That is entirely enough, Clarice."
"It was entirely enough the minute he touched you, H."
Hannibal wanted nothing more than to get out of that situation and his wife's indignant response, though well intended, delayed the process. He bent to her ear and whispered, "Though I understand your aim was to defend me and as such, your intention was admirable, the methods leave much to be desired. Know that I will not entertain such conversations in public, Clarice. When we return home, we will discuss the situation, but not before that time."
"You're not my father, H. Who the hell are you to decide when we'll discuss this."
Hannibal's eyes narrowed as he spoke in a low, almost threatening tone, "There is a limit to my patience, Clarice. I have done everything asked of me and more, but I have reached my end. Let me be exceedingly clear. Push me no further, my Love."
Although everything within her, down to her very core, told her not to respond, Clarice, full of anger at how her husband had been treated, misplaced her wrath and redirected it at Hannibal.
"Or you'll do what?" she growled.
Hannibal's eyes locked on Clarice for a just the briefest moment, considering a response. He blinked once, his eyes fluttering closed for a split second, opening more intense than before. Hannibal swallowed hard, choking on the rage within, causing his shoulders to shudder for a moment. It was the only visible signal of his frustration as he focused his attention to reining in his temper.
"After you, Clarice."
He walked beside his wife resting his hand on the small of her back, forcing her forward. This was normally an attentive, loving gesture, but at this particular moment, it was merely meant to guide her away from the crowd. Hannibal leaned in close to his wife as they walked to be certain his words would not be overheard.
"We are now in a very public place and as such, I will not dignify that with a response. Instead, I shall hold my tongue and will address this when we are once again, alone."
Clarice, upset though her anger now had no focus, responded, "That suits me, just fine."
The remainder of the afternoon saw a very quiet Hannibal Lecter carrying his son throughout the park. Clarice, now sufficiently calmed and feeling badly for taking her anger out on Hannibal, attempted to be pleasant but to no avail. He had been publicly embarrassed, not only by the activity of the guard, but even more so by her behavior. Several times she reached for his hand and though he didn't refuse, his grip was now loose. Normally, he would occasionally lift her hand and kiss it, or as he had earlier, stroke his thumb along her hand as he held hers. This grip seemed obligatory at best.
Though they were, for the most part, silent the rest of the day, Clarice found the nerve to question him as they began the drive home.
"H?"
"Yes, Clarice?"
"Are you angry at me?"
"I believe I was quite clear, Clarice. I will not entertain this discussion."
"Will you talk to me about it when we get home?"
"No. I am in no condition to discuss this. I will enter just long enough to escort you inside and put the child in his crib. When I am certain you are both safe and secure within the home, I will be returning to the car."
"H…please."
"Enough, Clarice. Please, leave me be."
Arriving home, Hannibal parked the car, walked to the passenger side and opened the door for his wife. He then took their son out of the car seat and escorted them into the home.
Hannibal ascended the stairs quickly with his son sound asleep in his arms. He quickly changed the baby's diaper and placed him in the crib.
Clarice waited for him in the foyer, hoping to convince him to stay. Pacing as he approached, she blocked his egress. Heading for the door she put a hand on his chest, smoothing it to comfort him.
""H? I love you, H…please…let's talk. I know you love me...please, don't leave me like this."
"It is because I love you that I will not stay. I am not of sound enough mind to have this discussion, Clarice."
Clarice swallowed hard. "I want you to stay, but I'm not going to beg you, H."
"I don't require that you do so, Clarice. Please, allow me to pass. I need to leave. Now."
Clarice stepped to the side, brushing her fingertips along the length of his arm as he passed. She wanted her scent fresh on his body.
"Come back to me soon, H…I'll be waiting."
His hand on the door handle, without turning, Hannibal spoke, "Don't wait up, Clarice. It may be a long night."
Running to him, Clarice wrapped her arms around her husband and rested her head on his chest. Hannibal bowed slightly, resting his cheek on top of her head. He paused a moment, breathing deeply as he drew in her scent. He took hold of her arms and separated from her. Their eyes met for a moment, hers pleading, his restless and anxious.
Seeing he needed space, Clarice let him go.
"I understand, H. You take the time you need and when you're ready, you come home to me. Then we can worry about the rest."
Hannibal slipped a hand along her neck, just within the curtain of her hair. He stroked his thumb along her cheek for a moment, his eyes searching hers.
Hannibal released her and turned toward the door.
Clarice, urgency in her voice, called after him, "H?"
Hannibal opened the outer door, paused and spoke only two words.
"Goodbye, Clarice."
The door closed, and he was gone.
Until the next chapter my Friends!
LH