Cometh the Man

Vilnius

Clarice Starling had never been to Europe before.

In fact, she had only been abroad twice in her whole life. The first was a school trip to Toronto in her senior year – an entirely dull week spent trudging round museums and galleries by day, and holed up in a cramped room with three other girls she didn't really like by night. The second had been no less traumatic – a fortnight with Ardelia in Mexico, her friend's idea and never to be repeated. Beyond that, she had seen very little of the world, and far less than Hannibal Lecter.

She had never given Lithuania much thought, but as their train finally left the dense forestry of its countryside behind, she turned her attention to Vilnius.

Clarice almost laughed to herself as the images inside her head were rapidly replaced. Women in drab clothing queuing for potatoes or feeding pigeons were no where to be seen, and elegant white buildings with tall red rooves stood in the place of the grey, Soviet-era tower blocks she had imagined.

They were met at the station by a driver in a black Mercedes, who took them on a thirty minute trip to their destination.

From the outside, their apartment was inconspicuous against the other buildings on the side street in which it was located, save for the two men in suits who waited for them at the front door.

The taller of the two looked to be in his late forties, hair and beard once dark were now peppered with grey undertones. He outstretched his hand to them both and introduced himself as Chief Inspector Zydrunas Petrauskas, though the dark rings under his eyes – likely caused by endless nights with little sleep – had already given him away.

The second man was introduced as Oskar Gabrys, twenty years younger and a foot shorter, braces holding up the trousers that looked like they had been turned up by his mother that morning. The enthusiasm in his eyes, the eagerness was something that Clarice recognised immediately – he was new on the job, straight out of training.

After some discussion with Hannibal in Lithuanian, Inspector Petrauskas opened the door to the apartment to show them through.

"Shall we talk down here, gentlemen?" Hannibal suggested in English.

"Of course, Dr Lecter," the Inspector nodded, turning to look at Clarice. "Forgive me, I don't think I caught your name."

"Oh, I'm–"

"–Mrs Lecter," Hannibal cut in, smiling pleasantly as he gestured Clarice and Everleigh past him.

Smiling uncomfortably, the Inspector handed her the keys. "You'll find the main entrance just up the stairs."

"Thank you," she said, shooting Hannibal a frosty glare.

"I shall follow you up shortly, my dear," the Doctor said.

Something told him it would not be a warm reception upon arrival.

∞∞∞

The apartment far exceeded Clarice's expectations in its grandeur, and when she opened the door into the open-plan living space, it took her a moment to remember who she was with. She herself had never stayed anywhere so luxurious in her entire life, but she knew she shouldn't expect anything less of Hannibal Lecter.

"Woah," Everleigh breathed, moving past her and turning on the spot to take in her surroundings. "Is this where we're gonna stay?"

"Looks like it," Clarice nodded.

Putting her bag down, the girl took off in the direction of the floor-length window, which boasted a more-than-adequate view of Vilnius.

"Don't break anything," Clarice warned.

"It's huge!" Everleigh told her, moving to look at the large grand piano in the far corner of the room. "Look at this."

"Uhuh. Don't touch it," she said.

Everleigh rolled her eyes. "Can you play it?"

Clarice shook her head. "No."

"What about...?" her daughter began, glancing in the direction of the door.

"Probably."

"I'm going to find my room," she decided, taking off again towards the doorway leading further into the apartment.

"Okay, well can you take your things–" Clarice began – but Everleigh had already gone, leaving her in the comfortable silence of their new living quarters.

Clarice cast her eyes over the space.

In the middle of the room, three sofas covered with Chinese silk throws were arranged around a large coffee table. The piano sat in one corner, directly adjacent to a sizeable mahogany dining table – both overlooking the city courtesy of the wall-to-wall window.

She wandered across to the large kitchen on the other side of the room, complete with all of the mod-cons and a vast marble island. She was not disappointed to find a bottle of Merlot sitting there.

Compliments of the Lithuanian Criminal Police Bureau.

Opening it, she sought out a glass and poured herself a generous measure. Right then, she needed it.

She didn't hear the door open.

"You weren't going to wait for me, Clarice?"

Clarice watched as Hannibal Lecter moved across the apartment and into the kitchen to stand beside her.

He picked up the bottle and examined it.

"I had hoped for better. Still, there's no accounting for taste," he said, placing it back down and reaching out a hand to brush back her hair.

Slamming down her glass, Clarice swatted him away.

"'Mrs Lecter'?" she repeated, furiously.

The Doctor didn't miss a beat.

"Come now. What would you have had me say? Would you have preferred me to introduce you as Ex-Special Agent Clarice Starling of the F.B.I, originally assigned to my capture and subsequent incarceration?" he asked. "Word would travel fast, Clarice."

"You said they'd signed a legally binding agreement," she reminded him.

He inclined his head. "Such a document does not extend to idle gossip, my dear."

She went to take another sip of wine but he stopped her, prying the glass from her hand.

"It is never wise to drink when one is upset."

"I'm not upset. I'm pissed!" Clarice snapped.

"Owing to the title I gave you?" he asked.

"Not just that. The way you sent me up here like some fragile little woman, while you and 'the boys' talked."

"Ah."

"I'm not gonna be your concubine, Hannibal," she told him.

"Nor would I expect you to be," he told her, putting the glass down on the counter and moving to stand in front of her, placing his hands either side of her and trapping her against the island.

"Then don't treat me like one."

"I apologise if that's how it felt," he said, softly. "That was never my intention. I must ask you to remember that up until now, I have – for the most part – lived a solitary lifestyle. And I will do well to remember that you are fiercely independent and perfectly capable of looking after yourself, though I must confess that will not stop me from wishing to protect you from a great number of things, my love."

My love.

Clarice felt herself soften. She knew that he felt it too.

"Am I forgiven?" he hummed, pressing a kiss against her neck.

Clarice nodded, resting her hands against his shoulders and leaning in to search for his lips.

Behind them, having returned for her bag, Everleigh crept from the room, smiling to herself.

∞∞∞