Cometh the Man

Midnight in Vilnius

Clarice did not remember falling asleep on the sofa.

The last thing she recalled was sitting down with another measure of that vile-tasting liquor. The next thing she knew, there was screaming.

The lambs were screaming. Hundreds and hundreds of lambs.

And then...

"Clarice! Clarice! Jesus, girl. You gotta wake up! Clarice!"

Clarice forced her eyes to open, tried to focus on the figure that was leaning over her.

"Ardelia?"

The room spun and swayed for a moment and Clarice struggled to sit up, realising she was alone.

But it had felt so real. Looked so real.

She remained perched on the edge of the sofa for a moment or so more, her t-shirt clinging to her and her hair damp against her forehead on account of the nightmare-induced sweat. The clock on the wall told her it was just after midnight.

Finally, she stood up and staggered toward the bathroom, still seeing double and nauseated to boot.

The brightness of the overhead light in the bathroom stung her eyes but Clarice had little time to contemplate it, only just managing to reach the toilet bowl before she began to vomit.

Just how much of that stuff had she drank?

Several minutes passed then before she finally felt well enough to stand back up. She moved to the sink and turned on the faucet, splashing the cool water against her face.

Still a little unsteady on her feet but feeling more alert than she previously had, Clarice gradually became aware of the pounding in her temples. A hangover was the last thing she needed.

Standing up straight again, she reached for the bottle of Advil on the shelf in front of the mirror, glancing at her reflection as she did so.

She let out a scream when she saw him. Standing behind her, back against the bathroom door.

But it wasn't possible. He was dead.

Her father was dead.

Clarice spun around, dropping the bottle in her hand and sending the pills scattering across the tiled floor.

Gasping for breath, she choked back a sob.

A bath robe.

It was just a bath robe, hanging from the back of the door.

Grasping at the handle she stumbled out of the bathroom. Grabbing onto the wall for support as the room continued to spin around her, Clarice did the only thing she could think to do next.

Stopping outside the bedroom door, she gave her usual – albeit slightly shaky – knock.

The speed in which Hannibal opened the door told her that he had already been awakened, no doubt by the commotion in the bathroom seconds earlier. Behind him, the balcony door lay open, allowing the cool air into the room.

Suddenly, Clarice had no idea what to do next, so she simply stood there, arms wrapped around herself, feeling more than a little pathetic.

"Are you alright, my love?" he asked softly.

She shook her head, letting out a sob and closing the gap between them to rest her forehead against his shoulder.

"Hush, you're okay... I've got you," he soothed, wrapping his arms around her and cupping a hand to the back of her head.

They stayed there for several moments then, she felt safe and secure in his arms and yet he was all too aware of the fact she was trembling.

"Have you been dreaming again?"

"I think I'm losin' my mind," she told him, lifting her head up to look at him.

He shook his head reassuringly.

"Not so. Just one drink too many, I suspect," he told her, stroking back her hair from her face.

"I only had two," Clarice objected, shuddering a little as she remembered the taste of the Starka.

"Which is all it takes, with a liquor so potent," Hannibal said.

She took a breath, resting her right hand against his chest as if to ground herself.

"I'm sorry. About earlier..." she murmured.

He smiled, leaning down to place a kiss on the tip of her nose, and one to her cheek. And another, and another, trailing downwards until he reached her jugular.

"That's quite alright, my love. And know that, no matter how terrible the row or how great the anger, I will always open my door when you knock."

"Can I sleep in here with you tonight?" Clarice whispered. She didn't want to be alone – didn't want to close her eyes, not knowing what awaited her.

"Of course," he nodded, taking her hand and guiding her towards the bed.

Clarice settled beside him, nestling her head beneath his, resting it against his chest, where the rhythmic beating of his heart instantly began to calm her.

And finally, as he stroked her hair and kissed her face, she felt herself begin to drift off.

The lambs did not scream again that night.

∞∞∞