Disclaimer: I don't own anybody. They belong to the god Thomas Harris. This story is written for personal enjoyment only and no profit of any kind is made. No copyright infringement is intended.
Rated PG for some language and violence
Part I
The Betrayal
It was springtime. The bright sun cast its beams on a newly-awakening land. The flowers were just beginning to open and the birds were in full-song. It was the time for new life.
In Arlington the optimism of the season failed to reach Ardelia Mapp as a cold chill went through her body. Her breathing quickened and the magazine which she held in both her hands began to tremble. She'd heard the rumors, and the emerald ring on her finger had only confirmed her suspicions. She knew it had to be true but had denied it, as if her denial could make things all right.
They had never had any solid proof and could do little more than spout off accusations. But here it was in screaming black and white, seventy-two-point Railroad Gothic, National Tattler's headlines.
"MRS. LECTER IN FBI CUSTODY!! HANNIBAL THE CANNIBAL STILL AT LARGE!!!"
The article continued with details, but Mapp did not bother to read anymore. She had seen what she needed to know. Ever since Clarice's disappearance had coincided with Lecter's rampage on Muskrat Farm, Mapp knew there was something funny going on.
But this. Her mind was overwhelmed and her hands grabbed car keys and a jacket without her conscious thought. She simply refused to believe that her former roommate had willingly remained in Lecter's company for five years.
Okay, she thought as she climbed into her car, suppose Clarice had stayed of her own free will. Where was her mind?! It was Hannibal Lecter they were talking about, whose body count had climbed well over twenty. Whatever the reason, Mapp had to see her. Clarice Starling was back from the dead, and no matter what she was like now, Clarice had once been her best friend.
Mapp's car was pushing 120 mph on the highway from Arlington to Quantico. There was the exit. Car horns screamed obscenities as Mapp swerved across five lanes of traffic.
Once at FBI Headquarters, Mapp did not have to search for her friend. The paparazzi had scouted out the place and politely guided Mapp with their shouts and flashing cameras. Flashbulbs popped over and over again as Mapp pushed through the mob.
"Is it true that former FBI agent Clarice Starling has been living with the infamous Hannibal Lecter for five years?"
"What are your feelings on this case?"
"Do you think Starling has been changed by..."
Mapp ignored the questions and pushed into the relative solitude of the building. It was not peaceful for long.
"You let me in, you bastards! I have a right!"
The two guards who blocked the way to the interrogation room would not be moved. "Nobody questions the suspect without written consent from the director. For security reasons." The guard added that last sentence as if lecturing a child.
"The suspect is my friend and she's done nothing wrong."
"Dan, she's not going to bust Starling out. Let her in." Special Agent Clint Pearsall came up behind Mapp and flashed his I.D.
"Yes, sir." The doors opened. If Mapp had known how much her life would change, she might never have gone past the entrance. She entered and the doors clanged shut behind her like a cell.
Pearsall led her through the floodlit corridors until they reached the room they wanted. "Are you sure you want to see her? She's not the same." Pearsall said this as the interrogation room was about to come into view.
Mapp whirled on Pearsall. "Why the hell didn't you tell me you had her? I had to find out from the National Tattler."
"We tried to call you for seven hours."
"You could have left a message."
"Your phone line had been disconnected."
"That's B.S."
Mapp stared through the one-way mirror at Clarice Starling. She sat calmly at the bare table in a splendid gown. Her hair was unkempt and evident of a wild struggle. The cashmere dress had been torn in several places and there were blood spots settled like flowers among the emeralds. Mapp thought for a moment that Lecter had drawn the blood and was getting riled up when Pearsall began to read the case report.
"She was taken at a Broadway musical. Les Misérables. Anonymous phone call. Officers apprehended her on the way to her car. Lecter nowhere to be found. The suspect," he paused, "...cried for the assistance of wanted fugitive Hannibal Lecter, who was believed to be in the vicinity. She struggled violently and was injured in her arrest. Numerous cuts and bruises. The suspect was taken to the interrogation room. Awaiting further orders."
So...it was true. The ring seemed to burn on her finger, and she wondered if Lecter had handed the emerald to Clarice to be set in the ring.
"I'm going to talk to her."
"I can't allow that."
Mapp ran ahead of Pearsall and tore open the door to the interrogation room. Clarice looked up as Mapp rushed in, followed by Pearsall and FBI director Tunberry.
"You can't do this, Agent Mapp." The director's voice would have sounded threatening at any other time. Mapp was beyond caring and could only see Clarice in front of her.
Director Tunberry took Pearsall aside. "How the hell did she get in here, Clint?"
"I...I let her in, sir. I saw no harm in it."
Tunberry looked as if he were going to explode for a moment. Then he suddenly quieted. "Well, I guess our little agent won't be too much trouble. See that she gets out of here in due time."
Pearsall knew better than to question his boss. "Yes, sir." Mapp heard the door click shut behind her. She carefully took a seat across from her friend. As she sat down, she slowly came to eye level with Clarice. Eyes that never left her face. Mapp shuddered. A hidden fire blazed behind the cold blue, fish-like irises that seemed to repel the light in the room. An icy, unfriendly flame. She looked just like him...
"Hello, Ardelia."
"Hello, Clarice."
"You didn't come all the way over here just to say that."
Mapp took off her ring and slid it to the middle of the table. She turned it so Clarice could see the AM-CS engraved inside. A beat of silence.
"Why, girlfriend, why?"
"Oh, Ardelia. You'd never understand."
Mapp diverted her gaze from Clarice's intense eyes and fixed it on her mouth.
"Do you still understand us? Do you still remember us?"
"I remember you, Ardelia. You shouldn't have come here. It would have saved you a lot of pain." Mapp watched Clarice's red lips slide smoothly up and down like poison as she talked. They shone as if with fresh blood.
"Would it be better to be worrying every second of the day that your best friend is in danger?"
"I think I made it quite clear in my letter that I was fine."
"You think he loves you? How long do you think Lecter will toy with you before he gets tired of it? He's a vicious criminal. He's not capable of love."
"Then tell me why I'm still alive."
"Lecter has killed 21 people. That we know of. Does he have any more bodies stuffed in his freezer?"
Clarice laughed, not pleasantly. "I wouldn't be surprised if he did."
Mapp got unsteadily out of her chair. Her limbs were like water as she faced the monster that used to be her friend. She cleared her throat and looked directly into Clarice's eyes.
"Agent Clarice Starling. Do you have knowledge of the current whereabouts of Hannibal Lecter?"
"No."
"Then you will remain incarcerated until you choose to inform the FBI."
Mapp walked briskly to the door with Clarice's voice ringing in her ear.
"This didn't have to happen. I'm sorry I had to hurt you, Ardelia."
After Mapp was out of sight and before she could get back behind the one-way mirror, Clarice picked up the ring that Mapp had left behind. She brought the ring to her nose and sniffed the cold metal. Then she smiled and removed a small object from behind her ear.
She placed the object on the gold ring and pushed until the soft gold began to form a little depression. The tiny object was now perfectly embedded in the ring. Clarice slipped the ring onto her finger and sat back in the chair.
They would question her, she knew. Far away, in a deep corner of her memory palace, she remembered how suspects were questioned. If an attorney did not work, they would switch to drugs. Clarice closed her eyes and walked down the halls of her memory palace. Hannibal had taught her how to build it. He had spoken softly in her mind, guiding her as, block by block, her worst memories were placed in far corners and bright, airy rooms were constructed at her pleasure. With a sigh, Clarice began to shut doors in the palace. It would take a long time to open them all again, but she could not risk the information in those rooms falling into the wrong hands.
Meanwhile, she would wait.
Rated PG for some language and violence
Part I
The Betrayal
It was springtime. The bright sun cast its beams on a newly-awakening land. The flowers were just beginning to open and the birds were in full-song. It was the time for new life.
In Arlington the optimism of the season failed to reach Ardelia Mapp as a cold chill went through her body. Her breathing quickened and the magazine which she held in both her hands began to tremble. She'd heard the rumors, and the emerald ring on her finger had only confirmed her suspicions. She knew it had to be true but had denied it, as if her denial could make things all right.
They had never had any solid proof and could do little more than spout off accusations. But here it was in screaming black and white, seventy-two-point Railroad Gothic, National Tattler's headlines.
"MRS. LECTER IN FBI CUSTODY!! HANNIBAL THE CANNIBAL STILL AT LARGE!!!"
The article continued with details, but Mapp did not bother to read anymore. She had seen what she needed to know. Ever since Clarice's disappearance had coincided with Lecter's rampage on Muskrat Farm, Mapp knew there was something funny going on.
But this. Her mind was overwhelmed and her hands grabbed car keys and a jacket without her conscious thought. She simply refused to believe that her former roommate had willingly remained in Lecter's company for five years.
Okay, she thought as she climbed into her car, suppose Clarice had stayed of her own free will. Where was her mind?! It was Hannibal Lecter they were talking about, whose body count had climbed well over twenty. Whatever the reason, Mapp had to see her. Clarice Starling was back from the dead, and no matter what she was like now, Clarice had once been her best friend.
Mapp's car was pushing 120 mph on the highway from Arlington to Quantico. There was the exit. Car horns screamed obscenities as Mapp swerved across five lanes of traffic.
Once at FBI Headquarters, Mapp did not have to search for her friend. The paparazzi had scouted out the place and politely guided Mapp with their shouts and flashing cameras. Flashbulbs popped over and over again as Mapp pushed through the mob.
"Is it true that former FBI agent Clarice Starling has been living with the infamous Hannibal Lecter for five years?"
"What are your feelings on this case?"
"Do you think Starling has been changed by..."
Mapp ignored the questions and pushed into the relative solitude of the building. It was not peaceful for long.
"You let me in, you bastards! I have a right!"
The two guards who blocked the way to the interrogation room would not be moved. "Nobody questions the suspect without written consent from the director. For security reasons." The guard added that last sentence as if lecturing a child.
"The suspect is my friend and she's done nothing wrong."
"Dan, she's not going to bust Starling out. Let her in." Special Agent Clint Pearsall came up behind Mapp and flashed his I.D.
"Yes, sir." The doors opened. If Mapp had known how much her life would change, she might never have gone past the entrance. She entered and the doors clanged shut behind her like a cell.
Pearsall led her through the floodlit corridors until they reached the room they wanted. "Are you sure you want to see her? She's not the same." Pearsall said this as the interrogation room was about to come into view.
Mapp whirled on Pearsall. "Why the hell didn't you tell me you had her? I had to find out from the National Tattler."
"We tried to call you for seven hours."
"You could have left a message."
"Your phone line had been disconnected."
"That's B.S."
Mapp stared through the one-way mirror at Clarice Starling. She sat calmly at the bare table in a splendid gown. Her hair was unkempt and evident of a wild struggle. The cashmere dress had been torn in several places and there were blood spots settled like flowers among the emeralds. Mapp thought for a moment that Lecter had drawn the blood and was getting riled up when Pearsall began to read the case report.
"She was taken at a Broadway musical. Les Misérables. Anonymous phone call. Officers apprehended her on the way to her car. Lecter nowhere to be found. The suspect," he paused, "...cried for the assistance of wanted fugitive Hannibal Lecter, who was believed to be in the vicinity. She struggled violently and was injured in her arrest. Numerous cuts and bruises. The suspect was taken to the interrogation room. Awaiting further orders."
So...it was true. The ring seemed to burn on her finger, and she wondered if Lecter had handed the emerald to Clarice to be set in the ring.
"I'm going to talk to her."
"I can't allow that."
Mapp ran ahead of Pearsall and tore open the door to the interrogation room. Clarice looked up as Mapp rushed in, followed by Pearsall and FBI director Tunberry.
"You can't do this, Agent Mapp." The director's voice would have sounded threatening at any other time. Mapp was beyond caring and could only see Clarice in front of her.
Director Tunberry took Pearsall aside. "How the hell did she get in here, Clint?"
"I...I let her in, sir. I saw no harm in it."
Tunberry looked as if he were going to explode for a moment. Then he suddenly quieted. "Well, I guess our little agent won't be too much trouble. See that she gets out of here in due time."
Pearsall knew better than to question his boss. "Yes, sir." Mapp heard the door click shut behind her. She carefully took a seat across from her friend. As she sat down, she slowly came to eye level with Clarice. Eyes that never left her face. Mapp shuddered. A hidden fire blazed behind the cold blue, fish-like irises that seemed to repel the light in the room. An icy, unfriendly flame. She looked just like him...
"Hello, Ardelia."
"Hello, Clarice."
"You didn't come all the way over here just to say that."
Mapp took off her ring and slid it to the middle of the table. She turned it so Clarice could see the AM-CS engraved inside. A beat of silence.
"Why, girlfriend, why?"
"Oh, Ardelia. You'd never understand."
Mapp diverted her gaze from Clarice's intense eyes and fixed it on her mouth.
"Do you still understand us? Do you still remember us?"
"I remember you, Ardelia. You shouldn't have come here. It would have saved you a lot of pain." Mapp watched Clarice's red lips slide smoothly up and down like poison as she talked. They shone as if with fresh blood.
"Would it be better to be worrying every second of the day that your best friend is in danger?"
"I think I made it quite clear in my letter that I was fine."
"You think he loves you? How long do you think Lecter will toy with you before he gets tired of it? He's a vicious criminal. He's not capable of love."
"Then tell me why I'm still alive."
"Lecter has killed 21 people. That we know of. Does he have any more bodies stuffed in his freezer?"
Clarice laughed, not pleasantly. "I wouldn't be surprised if he did."
Mapp got unsteadily out of her chair. Her limbs were like water as she faced the monster that used to be her friend. She cleared her throat and looked directly into Clarice's eyes.
"Agent Clarice Starling. Do you have knowledge of the current whereabouts of Hannibal Lecter?"
"No."
"Then you will remain incarcerated until you choose to inform the FBI."
Mapp walked briskly to the door with Clarice's voice ringing in her ear.
"This didn't have to happen. I'm sorry I had to hurt you, Ardelia."
After Mapp was out of sight and before she could get back behind the one-way mirror, Clarice picked up the ring that Mapp had left behind. She brought the ring to her nose and sniffed the cold metal. Then she smiled and removed a small object from behind her ear.
She placed the object on the gold ring and pushed until the soft gold began to form a little depression. The tiny object was now perfectly embedded in the ring. Clarice slipped the ring onto her finger and sat back in the chair.
They would question her, she knew. Far away, in a deep corner of her memory palace, she remembered how suspects were questioned. If an attorney did not work, they would switch to drugs. Clarice closed her eyes and walked down the halls of her memory palace. Hannibal had taught her how to build it. He had spoken softly in her mind, guiding her as, block by block, her worst memories were placed in far corners and bright, airy rooms were constructed at her pleasure. With a sigh, Clarice began to shut doors in the palace. It would take a long time to open them all again, but she could not risk the information in those rooms falling into the wrong hands.
Meanwhile, she would wait.