Well, hey sorry for not updating in a while. Not many reviews so I was going to wait but I really want to get a chapter out. But for the reviews I did get, thank you!
VorangorTheDemon: I can't help but answer your question. I read a lot of fics where they just have a child, like a normal couple would. And I personally think that can never happen. But what if it was an accident? I hardly think Hannibal would get rid of the child because of how he lost Mischa. And I think Clarice always wanted to be a mother. My personal opinion, though.
Yay! I finally finished the Hannibal series. It was incredible.
Onto the next chapter:
The airport was crowded, noisy but the noise seemed to fade away for Clarice. She could feel the pounding heart in her throat when it ought to be secure between her ribs. Her stomach was tight; it seemed to be clenched as if she was holding her breath. She was in a way. Dread made her unable to think or speak or breathe or do anything really. Clarice was watching the people weave through the crowds, their faces sometimes so happy so excited and red with laughter. Sometimes others had tears in their eyes with the goodbyes still fresh on their lips. Clarice Starling at the moment was neither, she looked like a ghost. Her face was pale, her eyes unnaturally puffy and dim. It was void of expression. The realization of what was happening was sinking into her now. She never felt so numb before.
The leather seats were soft underneath her body; she was fingering the fabric, trying to keep the nervous mother tears away. Her eyes were lingering on Hannibal's body, he was so calm, and his hand did not even shake as he passed the lady working at the counter his credit card. Remain calm, Clarice. Please try. It's a lot to ask for but we must not make spectacles of ourselves. Mason won't touch him until we are there. She was remembering his words in the car ride here but she couldn't help but be worried and sickened at the thought was Mason Verger could really do. He was a sadist and the worst type. A rich one, a powerful one. If they didn't get there in time and Mason had even doubted that they weren't coming, her only child was dead. The love of her life was gone. It is a horrible thought for a mother to think. There were no nervous beads of sweat evident on the doctor's brow; he even managed to thank the clerk at the ticket counter. Clarice Starling Lecter on the other hand, was a mess. Her eyes seemed far off, in a sort of daze, her mouth was turned into a tight frown and she seemed so empty. A voice entered Clarice's ears, soft and feminine. Clarice could even smell peppermint off the elderly lady sitting next to her, speaking softly and calmly.
"Are you alright, dear?" The lady spoke in Italian, her light blue eyes moving over Clarice, worried. She didn't know what to say, she couldn't just give a tight smile and nod that would hardly be believable. Remain calm, Clarice. Please try. Again his voice and she reassured herself and took a sharp intake of oxygen.
"I'm fine, thank you." Clarice felt herself smiling at the woman, who still did not look so sure she was telling the truth. In the nervousness, however, Clarice had somehow switched over to English.
Clarice then realized, looking into the elderly woman's bright and inquisitive blue eyes, how motherly the woman seemed. The wrinkles crinkling at the corners of her eyes, the light pink lipstick carefully smeared onto the thin lips that were most possibly always upturned in a smile. Neat graying black hair into a bun and half glasses propped on her nose. Clarice then felt herself wondering how her own mother would look like at this age. And then another pang of hurt was in her stomach.
"Are you sure, my child? You seem so….I don't even know the word." Clarice blinked slowly, she was most definitely not fine. But the woman could not know the real reason. And she hadn't even realized they had switched over to English.
"My mother. She's gone. I…..I can't believe it. I wish I can say I love you one more time, you know?" Clarice did not have to fake the hot tears streaming down her face but she was not crying for her mother. But the tears were really for Leonardo. But no one could know. She did want to say I love you. But it won't be the last time, Clarice. She told herself.
"Oh dear Lord. That's awful. My sympathies. You know, it hurts when someone that close to us leaves us. You begin to feel so empty at first but then the hurt leaves, my child. Then it's the realization that they are actually happy now. Death becomes a blessing sometimes." The woman went to her feet and kindly put a hand on Clarice's shaking arm. "All in good time, my child, and the hurt goes away. I'm going to be in the Maryland area, if you are going to be close, give me a call. I'm Betty Roseland, by the way."
Clarice stared blankly at her. It seemed to make sense for a few moments. Betty Roseland, she seemed to memorize the name completely. She was scared that if she talked, her voice would shake and crack and lose all her composure. She swallowed and moved her eyes beyond Betty Roseland and saw Hannibal's figure coming closer. His eyes were narrowed on the portly older woman. Clarice moved her eyes back on Betty and nodded sadly.
"Caprice Poverelli. I'll do just that."
She had almost said Clarice Starling but caught herself. The woman disappeared just as Hannibal neared, his maroon eyes were on her now. Clarice found herself wishing Leonardo did not look so much like him. It only hurt so much more. More hot tears were going down her face now, leaving her face red and her eyes puffy. Hannibal frowned and put his hands to wipe the tears away. Then his lips. His lips were on her face, kissing the tears away. They were so soft on her skin; they were incredibly soft for a Cannibal's lips. You wouldn't expect that from a convicted serial killer. He looked up at her for a moment and she could see the malice glittering in the maroon.
"Caprice, he will be fine. You forget who I am. He won't get away with this." He was on his knees now, still wiping the hot tears off her face with his fingers and kisses. She forced a tight smile. "We have to leave soon, my love. The plane is leaving momentarily."
"Hello, boy." Mason Verger cackled to the small boy stand in front of him.
Leonardo Lecter was everything Mason thought he would be. The resemblance was uncanny; he bore the same maroon eyes that had once glittered with enjoyment the night he peeled his face off. The same face that had said, "Why don't you peel your face off?" Mason could even picture the small boy bearing the hockey type mask on his face. He already felt a burning hate for the child, it was really the face that did it. The eyes actually topped it off. Hannibal Lecter had magnetic eyes as did Leonardo. The contrast between his pale, pallid skin and his maroon eyes with deep richness of his black hair made the boy handsome to look at. The doctor had that same way about him. The way the father and son carried themselves were identical. Mason knew that the only thing that separated them was that the boy was still innocent; he still hadn't tasted blood or felt it hot in his hands. He never felt the pleasure of taking a life. The multi-millionaire sadist wondered if that was going to change in the future. Would Leonardo Lecter like the taste of human flesh?
"Where are my mother and father?" The boy's voice never cracked, it was firm and he kept his eyes on Mason's hideous face. His jaw was clenched, the muscles twitching with annoyance. If he was older, Mason might have been scared of him.
"They will be here momentarily. At least, I hope so. And really, boy, you should hope so too." Mason paused and searched the confused boy's face. What beauty. "I don't even know your name boy."
"Nor do I know yours and stop calling me boy." Leonardo sharply said this and Mason was confused for a moment. The boy might be four or five years of age and he was so articulate, so mature. He also had that courage and spunk his mother had. Mason almost didn't see the Clarice Starling in the boy at all. Now he did.
"Mason. I'd stop calling you boy if you gave me a name."
"Alright, Leo." Mason said, nodding. He was about to continue but the boy interrupted him. Anger was in his red eyes and if the sunlight was leaking through the windows and dancing in his eyes, he might have looked satanic or demonic.
"I apologize, Leonardo. I thought nicknames would be cute. Well, I suppose I was wrong." Mason gave a poor attempt at a smile, his lipless face trying to upturn a bit but it was a miserable failure. It contorted and distorted whatever features he had left, making him look like a hideous fish. The type of fish that no one ever wants to eat and usually just swims at the bottom of the ocean, the type of fish that people shriek at horror at. In all, it was a disgusting attempt and Leonardo tried not to shudder with all his self control. It was a failure. Mason, unfortunately, noticed his disgusted shudder. "Do you think I'm ugly, Leonardo? Be honest." The lights had been on around his face the whole time.
"You didn't have to ask me to be honest, Mr. Mason. You are indeed ugly. Father tells me never to lie or distort the truth; he says it is terribly rude." Leonardo was bold, a little sharp, and brave. He had incredible backbone and as well as incredible manners. Mason had to wonder why. He was so unlike most children. Then he remembered who the little boy's parents were. And he seemed far older then a little boy.
"Well, doesn't dear Papa hate rude fucking people." He muttered bitterly and clenched whatever he had left of a jaw. He took a breath and looked at the boy again. "Honesty is an admired trait, Leonardo. Tell me about yourself."
"No? Why not?"
"You've obviously kidnapped me. Why should I help you or even be nice to you? You took me from my parents." Mason took a sharp intake of breath and narrowed his small, beady eyes on the boy. Time to tell Leonardo Poverelli that he was really Leonardo Lecter. Time for a rude awakening. Mason was actually pondering on keeping the boy alive when he killed the bastard parents. He rather liked him. He could eventually turn the boy over to his tastes.
"Do you know who your parents are, my dear boy?" Confusion seemed to wash over the boy's features. He cocked his head to the left, his eyes moving over Mason's mangled form. He nodded slowly and saw that Mason wanted an actual answer.
"Anthony and Caprice Poverelli."
"Wrong." More confusion. The small boy blinked and bit his lip, wondering if it was a trick question. He was silent, his lips pursed together and his red eyes livid with curiosity with Mason. "Those, Leonardo, are aliases. Do you know what that means?" Mason regretted the question. Don't ever make a Lecter feel stupid. Ever.
"Of course I do!" Leonardo said this sharply and rather loudly. A bit more of a temper then Hannibal, Mason admitted. A fault in Leonardo's character, a temper was a horrible thing. Mason said nothing to acknowledge the outburst.
"Well, Leonardo, your parents' real names are actually Hannibal Lecter and Clarice Starling. Your real name is really Leonardo Lecter. Rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?"
"Leonardo Lecter?" He muttered to himself and looked up at Mason with his confused red eyes. Mason joked to himself that he looked like a puppy dog Satan. But he was growing impatient and beginning to drum his long fingers on the top of the bed and within a moment or so continued the story for the boy.
"Your father actually is more commonly known as Hannibal 'the Cannibal' Lecter." Mason was actually going to ask the boy if he knew what a cannibal was but immediately decided against it. He waited for the fact to sink into the boy.
"A cannibal is a person who eats people. Father is definitely not that. You're lying."
"No, my boy, I'm not. I have proof." Mason pulled out newspaper clippings. Hannibal Lecter's face was painted on it, he was grinning with malice and you could almost see the red through the black and white. Next to Hannibal's picture was a picture of Clarice Starling, gun in hand and badge in the other. She was grinning as well but she had a softer grin, a kinder one. Leonardo couldn't get his eyes on his mother's picture. Mason realized the boy was reading the entire article and saw Leonardo sharply inhale and blink slowly. The fact sinks in. Leonardo Lecter had an epiphany, of who his parents really were.
"Mama? Papa? This….where am I? This can't be true, Papa. But how can he fake this?" Leonardo was muttering to himself in slow Italian and although Mason could not understand was gleeful, he was absurdly happy and he felt the awkward, hideous smile distorting his features again. Suddenly, Leonardo looked up and his eyes burned with rage even more. He was fiery to look at when he was angry, like his Mother. "My father is a killer? A murderer. Un Mostro?"
I like this chapter for some odd reason. Before you ask, if you ask. Leonardo is acting very differently; much much much more mature and intelligent then when he was with his parents because well Leonardo is usually like that with people. He tends to be a bit of a Momma's boy so that's why he acted the way he did last chapter. He acts like that with Hannibal too but on a lesser degree.
I hoped you liked it.
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