Dr. Lecter had learned about one of the new sensations he'd begun to have, by means of experimentation and deduction. There had been times with Starling during her last visit that he'd begun to have them. He'd likened them to war drums on the hills. He had them in smaller degrees during their separation, and had tested them out. When he would feel the sensations coming on, he realized he was suppressing them. He had been imagining Starling, his hands in her hair, a thumb stroking down her jaw until she took it into her mouth. Then she'd taken his wrists and kissed him, and he'd taken her in his arms and laid her down, and...
He let the sensations in and they invaded his chest; cold, slippery and quick, like a knot of chirping toads. Then he'd made the connection, the reference of butterflies in the stomach. He'd opened his eyes, disrupting the visual indulgence of possessing her body, and sighed long and deep. What a stupid phrase! To call such a slimy sickness 'butterflies in the stomach' was insipid beyond belief. This wretched feeling was not the feathery touch of butterfly wings, it was the wet belches of a swamp.
Now, nearing the airport late at night, the chirping began. Once he'd gone inside and located the correct terminal, the knot of toads were singing, and it was deafening. Dr. Lecter had to take a deliberate breath in order to subdue them. It wouldn't due to let them chirp and belch now, when she was arriving. It was time to set it aside, to focus. He would deal with the toads later. Now, it was time to reclaim control over his body and mind, and the situation. He'd been practicing letting them in and ushering them out. He'd nearly mastered it already.
When she appeared, he first saw her hair. She was walking between two large men. Dr. Lecter put his hands behind his back. He could wait. His patience was endless if he chose. When she caught sight of him and they looked at one another, there was a single, frantic chirp in the silence of the swamp, before dying down in the night of the monster's heart.
When she stood in front of him:
"Good evening, Clarice."
"Good evening."
She relinquished her suitcase when he offered, and they began walking without word.
They were quiet at baggage claim. She wasn't nearly as tired as she was the last time he picked her up. The flight had been a little over eight hours, but he'd found one without layovers and the time difference was not as severe. As they waited, Starling spoke without taking her eyes from the baggage carousel.
"So, am I going to see your home, this time?"
"Yes, you'll be staying with me."
"And Cerberus." She eyed him with a small smile.
"That's right."
The carousel began moving and the people drifted closer.
"Is it the same bag?" Dr. Lecter asked. "The upright navy with the tan lining?"
"Yeah."
"I'll get it for you. Have a seat, if you'd like."
"I've been sitting for quite some time. I'll just wait here. Thank you."
They were quiet as they waited but neither fidgeted. To a woman with her two teenage children across the room, Starling and Lecter looked like a sage couple; the kind lost in thought next to one another, loosed from the strings of obligatory conversation or even affection. The woman, tired and in need of some alone time, considered the couple for the amusement it offered. The couple was quiet; remote in their respective thoughts, but their bodies leaned toward one another. Their hands at their sides drew close like they were vaguely magnetized. The man swallowed on occasion. The woman's cheeks flushed once, when the man spoke. Yet, whatever he said must have been mundane, as she only nodded blandly. An odd couple.
In the car, Starling watched the streets and buildings go by. They had still not spoken much, but that suited her. Her brain was always fried after a long plane trip. She could talk and think critically if she had to-her job had required it of her more than once-but tonight it was not required of her. She did begin to wonder about Dr. Lecter. He'd been quiet before, and he'd done nothing peculiar. Yet, there was something about him that made her curious. He seemed possibly a little irritable but she knew it couldn't have anything to do with her. She'd just arrived and nothing much had happened. She'd ask him about it some time.
Dr. Lecter kept his eyes on the road and spread his focus in two different directions. One, suppressing the toads. Two, going over what he'd planned and measuring the time between plans which were unplanned. Dr. Lecter knew Starling liked structure, and rooting their visits in structure also helped her acclimate to the odd, disjointed reality of their meetings. Fine. But he wanted some of the structure to find its own way naturally this time, dressed in a familiar setting of domesticity—not unlike their first time together at the German's house.
Their last meeting had been cold and rough and emotionally draining. This time might prove to be draining for them both again, but it would be in the comfort of a home setting, and his touches would be kind, even if they were rather urgent. He didn't want to press her at the moment, but he did want to take a little reading.
"How are you feeling, Clarice?"
She didn't flinch, but her return to reality was clearly abrupt. She sighed.
"I don't know. I'm fine, I guess. How are you?"
He glanced at her. She was looking at his hands on the wheel. "Fine, you guess?"
He smiled at her and looked back at the road. "It's not my desire to demand or burden you. But you make it difficult with answers like that."
She was quiet and leaned her head in her hand.
"I'll go first. How about that?" he offered.
Starling looked at him, perhaps with some curiosity. He went on:
"I'm in good spirits overall. I'm quite enthusiastic about your arrival. There are other things that I'm not entirely sure about. I'm not apprehensive, but it would be fair to say the outcome of certain things is unclear. I'm hopeful, if not not a bit...attentive. Now," he continued, spreading his fingers along the steering wheel, "your turn."
"It seems this trip will be less hostile than the last one."
"Hostile. Are you sure about that choice in language?"
"All right. Antagonistic."
"Fine. And?"
"Is that a ruse, or can I trust that assumption?"
"You can never entirely trust an assumption. As the Christians say, man may cast his dice, but the lord determines the result. But you can feel assured of my intent."
Starling nodded and looked back out the window. "I feel..." she shrugged and shook her head.
"Yes..."
"Honestly, I don't feel much of anything. I haven't for awhile."
"When did you notice that?"
"I'm not sure. Now and then. I haven't thought about it much."
"Why not?"
"No time."
Lecter pursed his lips. "What do you think about it now?"
"It's a problem. Thinking about it is a problem. It's hard to..."
When she failed to continue, he helped her. "Harder than you would've expected, perhaps, to proceed with structured analysis without feelings to inform you."
"Hmm. Yeah."
"People get confused when it comes to logic and emotion. They assume logic is without emotion, and that emotion clouds one's ability to reason, but it isn't so. They are not opposites. Emotion informs many things, especially when it comes to understanding ourselves and others. Understanding others is not a pursuit reserved for the philosophers and the psychology department. It is found in nearly every subject matter, from history to statistics. So, yes. I can see the problem."
Starling wore a soft smile and she gave a quiet snort. "I almost forgot what it's like to talk with you."
"What is it like to talk with me, Clarice?"
"A contradictory combination of invigorating and challenging."
"You thrive in a challenge. Do you find that unchanged?"
"It's unchanged, but I haven't been challenged much. Not in any fair way."
"Work got you down, Darling?"
"It's work."
His home was not far from the airport, and they would arrive soon. Dr. Lecter considered.
"Have you eaten, Clarice? Did you sleep?"
"I took a long nap before leaving and yes, I slept and ate a little. I'm not sleepy."
"Hungry?"
"A little."
They were on his road now, passing by vineyards. "You haven't probed me about my plans," he pointed out.
"You'll tell me or you won't."
"That's always been true. It hasn't stopped you before."
Starling was looking out the window again. "Is this in the sticks?"
"It's a prestigious neighborhood, which means the residents have a good bit of acreage, therefore, space."
"You do like your prestige."
"I don't care anything about prestige. I enjoy luxury. You understand the distinction."
Starling nodded. "Yes. You're right."
"You really are numb, aren't you?" He glanced at her again. She was looking forward, but her eyes drifted in his direction, reflective in the moonlight and touched by concern.
"Yes."
They pulled into the driveway and into the garage. When the car was off, Dr. Lecter turned in his seat to look at her.
"Clarice. Do you want me to help?"
Her mouth opened, then closed. "Maybe."
Inside, Cerberus waited for them, considerably larger than when Starling had last seen him. His tail wagged, making his dense body sway, but otherwise, sat obediently where he waited for his master. When he saw Starling, his body swayed more and he yipped with the whine of desperation.
"Stay," said Dr. Lecter. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a treat. He placed it on the floor.
Cerberus looked up at Lecter with big, focused eyes.
Starling held her small suitcase in front of her with both hands, and found herself smiling.
Dr. Lecter raised a hand. Cerberus licked his lips.
"Yes."
Cerberus gobbled up the treat and, licking his chops, looked from Starling to Dr. Lecter.
"No jumping," Dr. Lecter said, moving forward through the mud room and into the kitchen. Starling pet the dog's head as she passed.
"Are you going to train him to guard?" Starling found herself asking, as she followed him down the hall into a sitting room. Dr. Lecter had set down her large suitcase and she put the small one next to it. He began turning on lamps.
"Yes. Among other things. Animals need purpose."
Starling shivered. "It's drafty in here."
"Yes," he agreed. The lamp beneath him turned on, lighting his face from below. He looked at her. His eyes were carrying something. Something heavy, Starling noted. "There's no central heating. It's not much of a problem through the summer. Compared to where you're from, certainly. During the winter, I reply on the fireplaces. There's one in most of the rooms. I'll light the one in here. I can get one started in your room too, if you think you'll be cold."
Cerberus came in and sat at Lecter's feet.
"Thank you."
She took a seat and watched him. When the fire was lit, he turned. "If you don't mind, I'll leave you here briefly. Allow me to bring the house to life, and then I'll give you a tour."
"Sure."
He gave a short bow of his head, took her suitcases, and left her there rubbing her shoulders.
He moved through the house and thought about Clarice Starling as he turned on lamps and lit a couple more fires. She looked healthy. She was beautiful, as usual. But she was also decidedly deflated. He had an idea of why, and he hoped he was right. But if he was, it would mean a lively weekend. Draining, after all. But that was all right. If it was what he thought it was, it would be a very productive weekend. He didn't allow himself to be pleased. Not yet. He would just have to wait and see.
When he returned, he brought her a drink.
"Thanks. What is it?"
"Whiskey."
She nodded. "You've noticed I like whiskey."
"Of course."
"Do you mind if we skip the tour?"
"Are you feeling tired?"
"No, I just... I don't know. I'm sure I'll see the house. I'm enjoying this room, the fire. May I have some music?"
"It would be my pleasure. Would you like to choose a record? Or I can choose for you. I'd also be happy to play something."
Starling hesitated, then sat back in her chair. "No, you don't have to do that."
Lecter cocked his head. "I detect the smallest trace of preference, Clarice. I appreciate your courtesy, but if you'd like me to play, tell me so."
She looked up at him. Her nod was either wistful or melancholic. "Yes. Yes, that would be nice. I'd like to hear you play again."
Dr. Lecter could look at her while he played. He always enjoyed seeing her in firelight. He found it moving. The flickering of firelight could even make the empty eyes of a doll dance. It was little more of an affect on Starling. He did wonder...
He played until she fell asleep. He finished with Gymnopédie No. 1, so that when he finished the piece, it would not rouse her. When he approached her on the sofa, he looked at her asleep a moment, then at Cerberus, who wagged his tail.
"Shall we carry her?" he asked. Cerberus licked his lips and Lecter looked back at Starling. Her lips were parted, her arms limp at her sides. "Agreed," he said, and stooped to gather her up. She roused a bit.
"I can walk," she murmured.
"Yes, you can," he said, standing with her in his arms.
"Please...Don't," she said.
"Why?" he asked, quietly.
"It's so...lewd." Her eyes were heavy. Dr. Lecter carried her upstairs.
In the morning, Starling found her things unpacked; toiletries set up in the bathroom and her clothes hung in the closet. She remembered lifting herself to help him remove her jeans. She remembered his hands unbuttoning her sweater and sliding it off her arms. She'd woken sometime in the night and removed her bra. It lay on the floor between the bed and a vanity.
She stood in front of the bathroom mirror, examining her image. She'd not brushed her teeth or washed her face before going to bed. After brushing her teeth and relieving herself, she turned on the shower and, while the water heat up, she looked at her image again. Lifting her arms, she turned this way and that. She'd always liked the way she looked in a tank top and underwear. She hadn't put on weight, or if she had, it was no more than four or five pounds. Noticeable to her, not really to anyone else. The only difference she saw was a few missing lines. There was usually a nice line on either side of her lower abdomen, up from the groin. It was less defined. Her ribs were just a bit less visible, she noted, when she turned to the side and lifted her arms. Starling worried about her appearance only a little less than the average woman. Her busy schedule made up for the rest and she was left with little energy to worry about her attractiveness. However, she did enjoy feeling strong. She liked knowing she could run long-distance if she had to, could lift someone if she had to, could take care of herself. Taking care of herself was not an if.
She reflected, looking at herself, that when others depended on you, their lives, in some cases, your body was a little less your own. She considered that's what mothers feel like, and was willing to put money on it.
She'd been hitting the gym less, running less, rarely swimming and not watching her diet much at all. She worried that, like other habits and interests, her numbness was at fault. She had had so little care, and it was hard to fix it when, well, she didn't care.
After the shower, Starling dried her hair and considered her clothes. She didn't know what he was planning and didn't want to have to change later. She put on a big fluffy robe and socks and poked her head out her door. There was music.
She followed the music down the hall, pausing at the stairs. No, it wasn't coming from downstairs. Glancing out the great windows of the castle's foyer, she guessed it was about six. She'd slept little more than five hours.
Down the hall and past an upstairs living room, filled with books and a big desk in the center. A small television sat in the corner on top of an ornate cabinet.
Down the hall, down the hall. Around a corner and she could hear the music better. It was playing very softly and she hadn't known what it was before. Starling's lips were parted and she listened, her eyebrows knitted together. She knew the song, Leather and Lace by Stevie Nicks. She'd sung it before. She'd sung it in the car, in the shower, even a couple times with Mapp. Why in God's name would he be listening to Stevie Nicks at six in the morning?
His door was closed, but she could see the early morning sunlight from beneath the door. She paused, considering whether or not to knock, and the music turned off. Starling moved a micron away from the door, looked down the hallway and chewed her lip.
When Dr. Lecter opened the door, she'd turned to leave.
"Good morning," he said. He stood like a dancer with one hand at his back, ever the gentlemen, even barefoot in an undershirt shirt and dark pants.
"Morning. Sorry to disturb you."
"Not at all. I'm sorry I wasn't up to greet you. I expected you to sleep longer. I assume you'd like some coffee."
"I wouldn't say no to that," Starling said, a hand rubbing her temple. "I really just wanted to find out your plans, so that I could dress appropriately for the day. I didn't want to make a mess of my room, changing outfits."
"Ah," he said. "Let's discuss it then. Please, come in," he said, stepping aside. Starling was still partially faced away, and she seemed to hesitate.
"I imply nothing in inviting you into my bedroom," he said.
Inside, Starling looked around a little, and sat at the desk in the corner by the window. "What time is it?" she asked.
"It's about a quarter to six."
Starling was looking at the portable CD player Valarie had left. Dr. Lecter approached her, stopping a measured distance away.
"I need to go to the market. My pantry needs to be stocked. I could've gone before your arrival of course, but it's an opportunity to take you to Naschmarkt. It's a sprawling marketplace. There's food stands too, and antiques. Would you like that?"
"Yes, that sounds nice. So a bit of walking, but nothing strenuous?"
"Yes. It will be a sunny day. It will get a little warm eventually." He folded his hands in front of him. "If it were me, I'd wear comfortable shoes, with something breezy and a light sweater that can be removed and carried easily."
A pause. "What is that expression, Clarice?"
"Nothing. Just kind of amused. What's with the music?"
"That wasn't meant for you. I'm sorry if it woke you."
"No, it didn't. I only heard it once I left my room. It was quiet. I couldn't even tell what it was until I was right outside. I'm understandably curious, Dr. Lecter."
"Well, that's a good sign, isn't it? Curiosity is an important feeling in your personal emotive rotation. Curiosity paves the way for action. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Come on, Dr. Lecter. If it's something private, it's fine. But does it have something to do with my being here? Some plan?"
"It would be fair to say it's because of you. But it doesn't have much to do with your trip or anything I currently have planned. As I said. It wasn't meant for you to hear or concern yourself with."
Starling was looking through the sleeve of CDs on the desk. "Prince...Bon Jovi, ACDC...Whose are these?"
"A friend's."
Starling looked at him.
"There's no one you need to save, Clarice. It's a benign friendship. You'll meet her tonight, in fact."
Starling looked back at the CDs, the CD player. She looked around the room. Then, without looking at him:
"You've had a woman in here. In your bedroom."
"Yes. There's a cafe I know in Naschmarkt. I can meet you downstairs in twenty minutes, if you'd like to get some coffee."
"Yes, that's fine. Who is she? How did you meet?"
"Would you like to take the car or the motorbike? The weather would permit a trip on the motorbike, if you'd like that. Valarie Martin. She's the cousin of another friend that I met through other friends. The usual way one meets friends, Clarice."
"Let's take the motorbike. Is she young?"
"Yes. A bit your senior."
"On second thought, let's take the car." Starling stood, gave him a tight-lipped smile, and left.
When Starling came downstairs, Lecter stood from the sitting room and came through into the foyer to meet her. She wore a long summer dress with buttons from top to bottom with a light, pale orange cardigan. The dress was blue. She stood at the bottom of the stairs, her white tennis shoes together and facing him, a small handbag held with both hands in front of her. She looked sweeter than he ever could've pictured her.
Her outfit, the way she stood, and the vaguest uncertainty in her eyes made the toads in his center chirp so suddenly and fiercely, that he scarcely had time to stifle them. A hand drifted to his chest. "You're lovely, Clarice. Thank you."
Her eyes moved away and she snorted. "Thank you? What do you mean?"
He came forward. "For giving me this vision." He took her hand, brought it to his lips, but did not touch her skin.
She let out a measured breath. "It's just a plain dress. But you're welcome."
"In that dress, the car was a good idea." He looked at her a beat. She didn't match his gaze. "After you."
At the market, Dr. Lecter rolled up his linen sleeves and Starling removed her cardigan about a half hour after sitting outside the cafe. Starling watched the crowds through her sunglasses and took another sip of her coffee. It was on the verge of getting cold.
"Clarice, you're very quiet."
"So are you."
"Am I?"
Starling nodded, and looked at him.
"Are you bored with our covenant already?" she said. The corner of her mouth suggested she did not believe the answer was yes.
Lecter smiled. "I think you know the answer to that."
"Then what is it? You know why I'm quiet."
"Do I?"
"I'm numb. It's hard to make much conversation when you hardly care about anything."
"Fair enough."
"So what's your reason?" she asked, her tone not far from apathetic.
"I suspect my reasons are far less interesting than yours. I'll tell you what's on my mind when it's appropriate. For now, I respectfully ask that we keep the focus on you, during your visit."
Dr. Lecter couldn't see Starling side-eye him, for her sunglasses. "You are being very odd," she said.
"In what way?"
"I don't know," Starling sighed, and began cleaning her sunglasses. You're being so..." she shook her head, "...nice." She looked at him. "Seriously, what's up with you? You don't have to write a story about it or sing a song. Just give me an idea, would you? And I'm sure I'll pour my heart out in a molten hot pile of crazy at your feet, soon enough."
Dr. Lecter looked at with his head to the side. "Oh, Clarice. You're submitting to ennui. Please don't mock your own emotional well-being. Or our talks. It doesn't suit you to talk like that."
"You know what I think?"
"No, tell me."
"I think different things will suit me at different times in my life. And I have that freedom. And if your plan, conscious or not, is to box me into the person you met a few years ago, you're going to be disappointed. And you're going to piss me off."
"I would be delighted to piss you off. Are you finished?"
She nodded.
Walking down the thoroughfare, Starling's appetite began to grow. Papayas and kiwanos and cassava and a myriad other foods surrounded them. Located over the River Wien, the market has two main alleyways; one dominated by food stores and stalls, the other by restaurants. They were walking through the food stores. She passed a stand with aubergine onions, bright tangerines, and mountains of kiwis. On the other side, cheese and sausages. Not far down the way, a woman with a pram was deliberating over the urging of a desperate trader to add another ox heart to her shopping list.
There was every shape, size and color of olive. Samples of salami and stuffed dates. She took a stuffed date from one of the vendors.
"I thought you might like to peruse the antiques at some point," Dr. Lecter said. "Would you?"
Starling looked vaguely amused. "You're so busy with my preferences," she said, covering her mouth as she spoke. "I almost want to misbehave to see if you'll get back to your usual self and chastise me for my language and oafish, back-wood behavior."
"I'll give your wrist a slap, if you like."
She held out her hand, and he gave her a pat. They smiled at one another. "Yes, I'd like to see the antiques."
"Then my suggestion is to get you some food first, then look at the antiques, then return to the market for my shopping list. Just let me know if you see something you'd like. If you're not sure, I can give you some suggestions."
She nodded. "Okay. These are amazing. You should get one." She took another and handed it to him.
They stopped at a deli a short distance down the street, where Dr. Lecter had a ham and cheese breakfast. Starling ordered fruit with muesli and yogurt with grape syrup. Then, they walked awhile, crossed into another alleyway, and headed toward the flea market portion of the market. Starling looked at graffiti art on the back of one of the stalls as they passed. It was a sleeping woman in a blue dress, an expression of perfect contentedness on her face.
Starling looked through a pile of ornate, antique keys while Dr. Lecter considered a set of Ottoman brass glasses. At one point, while looking at some jewelry, a vendor became animated and began speaking to her in German. He grew all the more animated when Dr. Lecter appeared behind her.
"He says it's fourteen karat rose gold, emerald in magnolia halo."
Starling looked down at the ring she held.
"It's an eighteenth century engagement ring," he added.
She set it down. Dr. Lecter picked it up. "Do you like it?"
Starling glanced over her shoulder. "Don't," she said, as quiet and serious as he'd ever heard her.
He spoke with the vendor.
"It's only about forty thousand schillings. It doesn't have to mean anything."
"If you buy that ring for me, it means something."
"Not to you."
She finally looked at him. The vendor was smiling so desperately, she almost felt sorry for him. "Don't," she repeated, and walked on.
Later she pointed out what looked to her like a strange old suitcase. "What's this?"
"It's a travel game set," he answered. A vendor encouraged him to open it, and he did. There were two decks of cards, dice, and some other things Starling didn't recognize.
"What do you think? Would you like to play a game tonight?"
"With your friend, Valarie?" she said, grinning.
"Sure."
She nodded. "That's acceptable. I can get it," she offered. When he put up a hand, a little of his authoritative presence appeared, at last.
She shrugged, feeling an unexpected sensation. It was a sense of comfort, or relief. Starling didn't long for a father figure or gain a particular pleasure out of authority in a sexual manner, not enough for her to identify as a fetishist. But her everyday life was full of hard decisions and heavy responsibility-when she had the opportunity to let someone take charge, it granted her some rest, a little rest.
Back in the food market, Starling walked along with Dr. Lecter as he shopped, happy to trail along without a plan or a care. He bought tomatoes, celery ribs, fresh thyme, apricots, then eggs and half a pound of premium ground sirloin at the end.
By the time they'd arrived home it was lunchtime but no one was hungry enough for a meal. After putting away the groceries, they wandered outside with Cerberus to walk the gardens around the property. Dr. Lecter carried a wicker basket with wine and a few snacks inside, and Starling carried the game box.
"So, who's going to do it?" Starling wondered out loud as they walked on a gravel pathway.
Cerberus barked and chased a bird up ahead.
"Do what?"
"Explain themselves first. You've asked me, I've asked you. We've both gotten so good at dancing around the truth, haven't we?"
"I'd go so far to say that that has been the very bedrock of our relationship. Perhaps it's a little difficult to shift out of the interrogative gear," he said, seeming privately amused.
"Is that what you want?" Starling asked. Dr. Lecter snapped his fingers, and Cerberus came running back.
"Heel. Yes, it is. Or would you rather keep a sense of being at odds, Clarice?"
"That does simplify things for me."
"I'm glad I didn't have to tell you."
"But you never let things be simple for me."
"Because you can take it, Clarice. I never give you anything you can't handle."
"Did you ever make fun of Barney about his intelligence?" She suddenly asked.
"No. Why?"
Starling watched a nest of birds overhead. "Nothing. I don't want to fight with you. I already told you I don't feel much. What do you want to say about it?"
"Allow me to take the first step. I don't want to fight with you either. You asked me to give you an idea about why I'm behaving differently."
"Being weird, is what I said."
"I'm analyzing my feelings about you and how I'd like to proceed with you, overall, in the remaining years I have you."
Starling was quiet for awhile, but she felt the most distant sort of sinking feeling in her stomach.
"How does that make you feel?" he asked. "Does it make you feel something?"
"A little."
"What?"
"A trickle of distress."
"Why is it distressing?"
"That's a nice tree," she pointed out. "Let's sit in the shade and have some wine. Probably because I don't know what it means. And with you, it could range anywhere from obsession to blood lust. I don't know if this ends with me being served rare to your Viennese bourgeoisie friends, or if it ends with you stalking me, or if it just ends, unceremoniously, leaving me a bigger mess than I would've ever been had I not met you."
Dr. Lecter handed her the end of a blanket and they spread it out onto the grass. "Was it your intention to wound me, Starling?"
"No."
Dr. Lecter stood there a moment, and watched her sit. She opened the game box and began picking up its contents and examining them. He took a seat.
"We agreed that I would not harm you during or after our covenant. Remember?"
Starling shrugged. "So? You might do it anyway."
"Clarice, would you look at me?"
She did. She had not grown accustomed to the way his eyes could pierce her, and she swallowed.
"I will not hurt you."
When she looked away, he turned to her, put a hand on her face. When she leaned away, he withdrew. "Look at me, Clarice. I told you, I don't want to fight with you and I don't want to press you. And yes, I am making an effort to be gentle and fair, because we cannot carry on as enemies or unequals."
"Why not?"
"I told you to look at me."
She did. And a feeling did come. It crept from beneath a door buried deep; crept slow and spread like smoke. She swallowed again.
"Because that's not what we are," he went on.
"You could never think of me as your equal."
"That's untrue. Do not ever presume to know my opinions or feelings about things."
"Do you not see the hypocrisy? You say that's untrue and in the same breath you tell me not to presume to know you, when that is all that you do to me."
"I make educated guesses and then probe you to check if I'm right or wrong. I have never assumed that I am right about everything before investigating. I give you the opportunity to correct me. And if I guess right more often than you do about me, it's because I am a trained psychiatrist. You are not. You have some background and you've got some education."
"I know that you think you're smarter than me, Dr. Lecter."
"I am. But that's true of nearly everyone I've known, and it does not mock the considerable intelligence you do have."
"You tell me you think you're smarter than me, but tell me we're equals. Please explain that to me."
"Intelligence is not everything. Nor are looks, sense of humor, charm, money, education, or experience. You have things I don't have. I have things you don't. Would you like to work it all out? Would you like to make color-coded cards and distribute them? You're beautiful. Does that make you better than me? You have combat training. Does that? What does it matter, Clarice? You don't need me to convince you of your specialness. You don't need me to respect you, or encourage you, or comfort you-"
"Yes, I do," she said, more loudly than she intended. When Dr. Lecter put a hand on her cheek again, she turned away.
"I do need those things from you. And I hate it."
"You like having those things. You don't need them. If I died tonight, you would go home and move on with your life. And I wouldn't worry for you in my grave. You are a warrior. One does not anguish for the warrior. And one does not seek comfort in the fiend. We are equals, Clarice. I believe that."
It was quiet for a few moments, accept for a few birds and the occasional whisper of breeze through the trees. "Why?"
Dr. Lecter had let go of her face and she was shuffling through the cards. He put a hand on her hands and she stopped. "Do you not believe we're equals?"
I don't know," she shook her head. "It's like you said. We have different strengths and weakness." She was quiet again but Dr. Lecter said nothing. He could see she was thinking. "I know you're smarter than me."
"You're still very very bright, Clarice."
"Why do you think we're equals? What makes you sure of it?"
"The affect you've had on me."
She looked at him quickly before looking away. "What affect have I had on you?"
"I'm not entirely sure yet. But if the affect you have had on me were an object and I was blind, I know that it would take me years to feel my way around it. It is a piece of land, Clarice. It's a continent."
"I can't know this. I don't want to know this."
"Then don't ask me why I'm being strange."
She smiled.
"Now," he said, tucking her hair behind her ear, "About you."
She sighed and laid back on her elbows, her ankles crossed, and watched Dr. Lecter take out the wine and two glasses. He handed her one.
"Were your feelings in tact on the plane ride home when you left, last year?"
She nodded. "Oh, yeah. They were there."
"What were you feeling?"
He was uncorking the wine and it made a happy pop that made Cerberus look.
"I'm not sure I want to open that can of worms."
"At this point, why bother making attempts to keep things from one another? I have you for four more years. After that, I'll never have you again. We have four years. Our time together is completely separate from our ordinary lives and always will be. What we say and do together will be taken to our graves. The only reason to dodge and dance and flee is to flatter our own stubbornness. Tell me what you were feeling."
"I was sad. Very sad."
He paused his movements, his hand poised with the wine over Starling's glass. Starling looked at his frozen hand a beat, before the moment was past.
"Sad for what reason, Clarice?"
She watched him pour his own glass. "To be leaving. To leave you," she said, and tucked her nose into the glass. She watched Cerberus instead of looking at Lecter. She couldn't bare it, now. Maybe later.
"It was a melancholy day for me too, Clarice. It was an eye-opening experience. What else did you feel?"
"Disappointed in myself. Ashamed."
"Ashamed because you enjoyed my company?"
"Yes. I mean...I certainly didn't enjoy all of it. But I just found myself...Not wanting to go."
"Perhaps there were things left unsaid. Or undone," Lecter suggested.
"Perhaps."
Cerberus came to sniff the basket.
"Sit."
Cerberus sat.
"Good. Stay," Dr. Lecter said, a hand up.
He took out a tin of hazelnuts and figs, and placed it between he and Starling. Cerberus stared at it and licked his lips.
"Stay," Dr. Lecter reminded him, and Cerberus laid his head down on his paws, tail wagging.
"He's pretty obedient," Starling commented. "Mmm. These figs are good."
Dr. Lecter spread out with his ankles crossed. Their feet nearly met at an angle. "Here," he handed her another tin.
"Are these those same dates? From the market?"
"Yes."
"I didn't notice you getting them."
"You were sniffing persimmons."
Starling grinned and popped a date into her mouth.
"How did they smell?" Dr. Lecter asked.
"Not very good."
He smiled and nodded. "They tend to smell like semen."
"God," Starling let her head roll back and she chuckled. "Well, I didn't know that."
"I expected as much," Dr. Lecter said, smiling.
"You could've told me."
"That would have deprived me of watching you lift it to your lovely face with curiosity and a hint of enthusiasm, and then watching your lovely face fall in confusion and revulsion. Tell me, is that wrong?"
Starling shook her head. "My God, the thought of you loose."
"Umm."
"Fiendish."
"Umm."
"Monstrous."
"Um-hmm."
"Evil."
"At last, she can say it. Now, tell me. After your plane ride, when you got home, what were you feeling?"
She shrugged, while she finished swallowing. "Same stuff."
"Nothing else?"
"I had some intrusive thoughts."
"Such as?"
"Now that really is none of your business."
"So you were thinking of being intimate with me."
Starling sighed. "That sounded like an assumption."
"And here is your opportunity to correct it."
Starling loosed a big fig seed from between her molars and spit it out over her shoulder. "Later, I remember feeling apprehensive about work."
Dr. Lecter smiled into his wine.
"And I was mad at you. I forgot about that. I was mad at you because of having to keep things from Ardelia."
"Me? Why were you mad at me?"
"How could I not be?"
"I didn't make you keep things from your friend. You're just as much responsible for that choice as I am."
"I don't recall being responsible for your criminal activity, which is the reason why it's a big secret and we can never-" she stopped.
"Never what?" Dr. Lecter asked.
Silence.
"Never what, Clarice? Be together?"
Starling rolled a hazelnut between her fingers.
"Is that hazelnut fascinating, Clarice?"
"What do you want from me?" she asked, shaking her head up at the impassive cherry tree. A few blossoms came down.
"I think the better question is what do you want from yourself? Do you want to not feel, perhaps?"
Starling's chin dropped and she stared forward and her lips parted in, what was to Lecter, a toothsome display of revelation.
"You're right," she said, simply. "I don't."
Dr. Lecter nodded and bit into a fig. He let her sit with it on this pleasant day and took the time to savor the flavor. After he swallowed:
"The mind is very protective. And powerful, in some ways. One thing it cannot do is selectively shut down particular emotions. Not efficiently, anyway. I told you last year that if you let your unconscious mind go unchecked, it will move things around in your head like a poltergeist until you wake up one day and wonder who you are and how you got that way. So you have to decide, like everyone at one time or another: Would you trade the entirety of the human experience in order to avoid one feeling that frightens and inconveniences you? Or will you choose to face yourself and the world, and give yourself the grace to be what you are. A human woman. A daughter and an orphan. An agent. A friend, a lover, a champion, a warrior, a child, and the million other threads that make up the extraordinarily unique tapestry that is Clarice M. Starling."
Starling looked at him. She didn't cry.
Dr. Lecter bit into a hazelnut. It made a muted thock, and he chewed and took out a piece of cheese. He looked at Cerberus and Cerberus looked at him. Tail wagging. Nose bobbing. Dr. Lecter swallowed.
"Wait," he said, placing a morsel of cheese in front of Cerberus' paws. Dr. Lecter looked at Starling and licked a bit of fig juice from his finger. "Yes."
Cerberus ate and Dr. Lecter gave Starling a wink. "Well...Have I helped?"
Starling nodded. "Yes. You have helped."
"Wonderful," he said, and raised his glass to the dappled afternoon sun.