~As usual, I didn't make the characters (with the exception of the
new one I'm adding in chapter two.) I'm not making any money off of this,
so don't sue me! Please R&R and tell me what you think! Thanks! ~
Clarice woke up with a jolt, sitting strait up in bed. She was covered with cold sweat, and she was breathing heavily. She looked around, her eyes searching her bedroom completely before she allowed herself to relax a little. She took a few deep breaths and slid up, sitting back against the cool, wooden headboard of her bed. Her eyes fluttered shut as she recalled the last sexual images in her mind. She'd been having these dreams for months now. It was no longer the lambs that woke her in the night. It was him. Hannibal Lecter. She felt tingle as she thought of his body, and his touch. She couldn't tell if it was of pure hatred or just plain loathing. She slid down a bit into the sheets. She looked at the clock from the corner of her eye. It was only two thirty. She was about to turn her head and slide back down into the covers, hoping to get a little more sleep before her alarm went off at six thirty, when something caught her eye.
She shifted a little, deciding weather or not to get up and check it out. She did. She drew the covers back, and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her bare legs and feet hit the cold air, and chills ran up her spine. She shivered. She let her feet onto the hardwood floor of her bedroom, standing and steadying herself, trying to wipe the last shred of sleepy daze from her vision. She walked over to her dresser, carefully eyeing every little detail. That's when her eyes came to rest upon it. An envelope. Her brow furrowed in confusion. Had this been here before? She couldn't decide. She picked it up slowly, and walked back over to her bed, propping herself on the edge just by her lamp. She reached over with one hand and clicked it on. "Shit…". Almost instantly the letter fell out of her hands. A single word, written in very fine writing was etched on the front. "Clarice." It said.
She picked it up, looking it over once more. She didn't care about getting her prints on it. She already knew who it was from, and knew he wasn't so dumb as to actually leave a clue. Or was he? What was that scent? She lifted the envelope to her nose, taking in the smell. It was a faint trace of something. Something sweet. She allowed herself to smile a little. She turned the envelope over and grabbed her letter opener, getting back under the covers and sitting the now open letter in her lap to read it. It said :
Dear Clarice,
I do apologize for my unwelcome invasion of your privacy while you slept. You're very lovely when you sleep. I do hope you like the perfume, I chose it just for you. You'll find out soon enough that my plans for you are trustworthy, I can assure you that. Still out to make daddy proud, Clarice? Still trying to find me? Well, Clarice, such a pity you didn't simply open your eyes only a few moments ago. I've noticed you looking about when you walk down the streets, Clarice. I know how horrible it must be, to have that one shred of hope left, the hope that you might be able to please your father in his grave. Tah tha for now.
Your old pal,
Hannibal Lecter M.D.
Clarice closed the letter and cursed herself for not waking up. He'd been in her house and she'd slept right through it! She didn't realize she was smiling, or she would have slapped herself across the face. He did this to her, she realized. He put her in some sort of haze. She raised a hand to her lips, recalling the kiss. 'Knock it off, Starling! Forget it! You have to call this in!' She shook her head slightly and put the letter on her nightstand beside her clock. 'Maybe tomorrow…' she answered herself in her mind. It was now three o'clock. She slid down under her sheets, and tried to go to sleep. Finally, around three thirty, she drifted off.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Fuck…" Clarice muttered as she heard the alarm go off. She rolled over in bed, slapping her alarm clock. She hated the annoying buzzing sound it made that was ever so close to the buzz she heard in her head when she thought of Hannibal. She threw her covers to the side and got up. She yawned as she made her way to the upstairs bathroom. She quickly got a shower and wrapped a towel around her. She walked into her room, picking out her usual outfit, and changed. As she put her hair back into a pony tail and headed downstairs, she said something to herself about Hannibal. She couldn't believe he'd ever want her and it was more likely, to her at least, that he'd have her for dinner before he ever got into bed with her.
She grabbed her usual things and put them into her bag and headed out the door, grabbing her keys and her wallet. She left the door unlocked. If Lecter came back, she wanted to catch the son of a bitch before he got away. She went to her car, as old and beat up as it was, and got in. She started it up, and noticed a little bundle of yellow roses sitting on the seat beside her. Her stomach churned as she pulled out of the driveway and headed to the station. She didn't notice the car pulling out behind her, or following her either. She pulled into the parking lot at the station and turned the car off. She picked up her bag, and then the flowers. She hurried inside to put them in water. She sat back in her leather chair in her office and stared at the screen on the laptop. She put on her headphones and popped in a tape of her and Lecter at the old hospital in Baltimore. She listened to it for a while before she felt a tap on her shoulder. She ripped off her headphones and spun in the chair, scared half to death. "Who the hell-" she started to say. And then stopped, mid- sentence.
"God DAMNIT Delia! Don't do that!" she said, turning back around.
"See you still haven't found anything on Lecter yet, huh?" he said.
She thought about this for a second.
"No…"she said, surprising herself.
"Oh well… Maybe today'll be different."
"It never is, Delia… They're all leads, they just don't lead to him."
Delia laughed. She patted Clarice on the back and left the room. Clarice sighed, her heart still beating very fast, and put the headphones on again. This time, she clicked on the radio. She lightly bobbed her head to the music. "You've Got Mail." Appeared on her screen. She clicked on it, 'probably someone from upstairs telling me I've done something wrong again.'. Her eyes widened when she saw the sender.
Clarice woke up with a jolt, sitting strait up in bed. She was covered with cold sweat, and she was breathing heavily. She looked around, her eyes searching her bedroom completely before she allowed herself to relax a little. She took a few deep breaths and slid up, sitting back against the cool, wooden headboard of her bed. Her eyes fluttered shut as she recalled the last sexual images in her mind. She'd been having these dreams for months now. It was no longer the lambs that woke her in the night. It was him. Hannibal Lecter. She felt tingle as she thought of his body, and his touch. She couldn't tell if it was of pure hatred or just plain loathing. She slid down a bit into the sheets. She looked at the clock from the corner of her eye. It was only two thirty. She was about to turn her head and slide back down into the covers, hoping to get a little more sleep before her alarm went off at six thirty, when something caught her eye.
She shifted a little, deciding weather or not to get up and check it out. She did. She drew the covers back, and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her bare legs and feet hit the cold air, and chills ran up her spine. She shivered. She let her feet onto the hardwood floor of her bedroom, standing and steadying herself, trying to wipe the last shred of sleepy daze from her vision. She walked over to her dresser, carefully eyeing every little detail. That's when her eyes came to rest upon it. An envelope. Her brow furrowed in confusion. Had this been here before? She couldn't decide. She picked it up slowly, and walked back over to her bed, propping herself on the edge just by her lamp. She reached over with one hand and clicked it on. "Shit…". Almost instantly the letter fell out of her hands. A single word, written in very fine writing was etched on the front. "Clarice." It said.
She picked it up, looking it over once more. She didn't care about getting her prints on it. She already knew who it was from, and knew he wasn't so dumb as to actually leave a clue. Or was he? What was that scent? She lifted the envelope to her nose, taking in the smell. It was a faint trace of something. Something sweet. She allowed herself to smile a little. She turned the envelope over and grabbed her letter opener, getting back under the covers and sitting the now open letter in her lap to read it. It said :
Dear Clarice,
I do apologize for my unwelcome invasion of your privacy while you slept. You're very lovely when you sleep. I do hope you like the perfume, I chose it just for you. You'll find out soon enough that my plans for you are trustworthy, I can assure you that. Still out to make daddy proud, Clarice? Still trying to find me? Well, Clarice, such a pity you didn't simply open your eyes only a few moments ago. I've noticed you looking about when you walk down the streets, Clarice. I know how horrible it must be, to have that one shred of hope left, the hope that you might be able to please your father in his grave. Tah tha for now.
Your old pal,
Hannibal Lecter M.D.
Clarice closed the letter and cursed herself for not waking up. He'd been in her house and she'd slept right through it! She didn't realize she was smiling, or she would have slapped herself across the face. He did this to her, she realized. He put her in some sort of haze. She raised a hand to her lips, recalling the kiss. 'Knock it off, Starling! Forget it! You have to call this in!' She shook her head slightly and put the letter on her nightstand beside her clock. 'Maybe tomorrow…' she answered herself in her mind. It was now three o'clock. She slid down under her sheets, and tried to go to sleep. Finally, around three thirty, she drifted off.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Fuck…" Clarice muttered as she heard the alarm go off. She rolled over in bed, slapping her alarm clock. She hated the annoying buzzing sound it made that was ever so close to the buzz she heard in her head when she thought of Hannibal. She threw her covers to the side and got up. She yawned as she made her way to the upstairs bathroom. She quickly got a shower and wrapped a towel around her. She walked into her room, picking out her usual outfit, and changed. As she put her hair back into a pony tail and headed downstairs, she said something to herself about Hannibal. She couldn't believe he'd ever want her and it was more likely, to her at least, that he'd have her for dinner before he ever got into bed with her.
She grabbed her usual things and put them into her bag and headed out the door, grabbing her keys and her wallet. She left the door unlocked. If Lecter came back, she wanted to catch the son of a bitch before he got away. She went to her car, as old and beat up as it was, and got in. She started it up, and noticed a little bundle of yellow roses sitting on the seat beside her. Her stomach churned as she pulled out of the driveway and headed to the station. She didn't notice the car pulling out behind her, or following her either. She pulled into the parking lot at the station and turned the car off. She picked up her bag, and then the flowers. She hurried inside to put them in water. She sat back in her leather chair in her office and stared at the screen on the laptop. She put on her headphones and popped in a tape of her and Lecter at the old hospital in Baltimore. She listened to it for a while before she felt a tap on her shoulder. She ripped off her headphones and spun in the chair, scared half to death. "Who the hell-" she started to say. And then stopped, mid- sentence.
"God DAMNIT Delia! Don't do that!" she said, turning back around.
"See you still haven't found anything on Lecter yet, huh?" he said.
She thought about this for a second.
"No…"she said, surprising herself.
"Oh well… Maybe today'll be different."
"It never is, Delia… They're all leads, they just don't lead to him."
Delia laughed. She patted Clarice on the back and left the room. Clarice sighed, her heart still beating very fast, and put the headphones on again. This time, she clicked on the radio. She lightly bobbed her head to the music. "You've Got Mail." Appeared on her screen. She clicked on it, 'probably someone from upstairs telling me I've done something wrong again.'. Her eyes widened when she saw the sender.
