Cometh the Man

Journey's End

The rain abated overnight, and morning brought the slightest rays of sun through the grey clouds. The crisp air told him that winter was just around the corner.

It did not, however, do much to improve the views of the drab town, Hannibal concluded, as he stood on the partially-rotting wooden decking outside of the motel room. He had been awoken at first light, unaccustomed to such a small bed, let alone one of such poor quality.

He was unsure how long he had been out there, or when Everleigh had slipped out of the room to join him.

"Good morning," he gave her a soft smile.

She returned it, squinting in the sunlight. "I thought you might've gone again."

"Ah. Well, conversely, I have not – at any point – 'gone' anywhere," Hannibal pointed out, as his daughter stood beside him, leaning over the wooden railing.

"Yeah," she conceded. "She can go a little crazy sometimes. I'm glad you came after us, though."

"Tell me, why is that?" he enquired.

Everleigh thought about it for a moment, before shrugging her shoulders.

"I always wondered what it might be like to have a father. All of the other kids at school did," she told him.

"I see. And do I live up to expectation?" the Doctor asked, amused.

"Well, I don't think you're much like the other fathers," she told him.

"I expect not," he agreed. "Is that a problem?"

Everleigh shook her head. "I don't think I'm much like those other kids, either."

"Wherever possible, one should always endeavour to break the mould," he told her. "It does not do to be a sheep."

"She's different when you're around," Everleigh told him, watching a dragonfly which had landed on the railings not far from her.

"How so?"

A silence passed between them before the girl finally responded. When she did, her voice was soft.

"More peaceful."

He exhaled, but gave no verbal response.

"I know you won't tell me where we're going. But, are we staying in Lithuania?" she asked eventually.

"I thought we might," he told her.

"Will you teach me to speak Lithuanian?" she enquired, looking up at him for the first time since joining him outside. "And Italian? And to play the piano, like you?"

At that, Hannibal Lecter inclined his head, sure that in the years that would follow, there would be plenty of time to do all of it.

∞∞∞

The grey clouds had faded away and the sun had settled in the sky by the time they returned to the train station at which they had last parted ways.

The Doctor had still said nothing of their destination, yet Clarice and her daughter followed him willingly, unquestioning.

They took a short walk from the train station, finally coming to a stop off the beaten track, on a dirt road surrounded by trees.

There they waited for several minutes, until the sound of horses' hooves filled the air, drawing closer and closer, until two black stallions came into view, pulling a 1950s-style carriage.

Hannibal spoke only minimal words to its driver before climbing aboard and helping them both to follow.

The ride, though not long, was picturesque – the sunlight dappling softly through the dense forestry, while a delicate swirling mist told them that they were not far from water.

Finally, the horses slowed a gentle walk as the trees began to clear, and Everleigh gasped as their destination finally came into view.

Hannibal Lecter took off his fedora, as if doing so somehow better enabled him to take in what was I front of them.

And for the longest time, Clarice simply looked on in disbelief.

But eventually, she opened her mouth to speak, though her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Oh, my God."

∞∞∞