DISCLAIMER: Silence of the Lambs belongs to Thomas Harris.
A/N: Chronologically, this one comes before "They Betray" but I actually wrote that one first.
~ I Hear Your Whisper In My Dreams ~
At first, she hadn't believed that it would become an ongoing problem. When it did, she reported it to her superiors, figuring the offenders would be disciplined and that would be the end of it.
She was wrong. Somehow the incident report was leaked to the press, and her superiors chose to cover their asses rather than allow the public to find out that something like that could happen within the Bureau's walls.
After that, she didn't know what to do. She continued to show up at work, trying to pretend that nothing had ever happened. But it continued to happen. Because now they knew that they could get away with it. And not only did it continue, it only grew worse with time.
Each day she returned home after work, stressed almost beyond the limits of what she could handle, and spent the hours before bedtime cuddling her stuffed lamb and staring at the TV without truly paying attention to whatever shows happened to be on it. She didn't know why the plush toy brought her such a sense of comfort. She had bought the thing in a rare moment of whimsy three years ago, not long after she had officially become a member of the FBI.
She didn't allow herself to cry, and she didn't allow herself to think of him. Not while she was awake. It was a rare day when she didn't awaken at odd hours of the night with tears in her eyes and his name on her lips.
After TV-and-lamb time, when her mind was numb enough to the events of her day, she would fix dinner for herself. Then she would go upstairs to shower away the daily grime and the phantom hands, and go to bed. On particularly bad days, she would clutch her lamb to her chest when she slept.
They were all bad days lately.
And in her dreams, he was there. In her dreams, she could let it all out. She could scream and cry and rage, and he would always be there for her.
She didn't know when his presence had started to represent safety and comfort to her. If she had ever allowed herself to think about it, she might have realized that she had gradually come to rely on him for those things before they had parted… during the course of the Buffalo Bill case.
But she never allowed herself to think of those things while she was awake. When she was awake, she ignored the desires that her subconscious bashed her over the head with while she slept. She couldn't afford an emotional breakdown right now.
She couldn't allow herself to wish that she could meet him again in real life. She could only sink into a restless slumber each night, knowing she would see him in her dreams.
From now, and on and on forever.
A/N: The song reference (in the fic title and final line) is quite a bit more obscure this time...
In case you couldn't tell from the subtext of the "phantom hands" line, the FBI scandal was sexual harassment.
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