It had been a particularly uneventful night, I had hit a few of the clubs in town with a group of the other Agents, Clarice hadn't come of course; not that I would have expected her to, she has never been particularly sociable. Her excuse tonight was beyond lame though, I was fully aware that she had nothing of importance to do; ok so I may have bummed a favour from an old friend for the information, but she worries me, she never goes out and when she does she's completely distracted, it's as if she is just waiting for us to drink up and leave, and the phone calls, her cell is permanently attached to the palm of her hand, it's as if she has grown another limb. At first I wasn't particularly bothered, I just assumed it was a new boyfriend or something, then I realised that in order for her to form a relationship she would have to leave the duplex. Something was amiss, she was like a completely different person, I had entertained the notion that it was Jack Crawford who was keeping her attention so firmly fixed on anything other than being with her friends and potentially meeting a guy who wasn't either old enough to be her father or likely to eat her with a vintage wine and some caviar. Jack Crawford was a non entity in her world though, she obviously only had eyes for this mystery man, I should have known really but had I even imagined for one second what was really going on in the other side of the duplex I would have probably had myself sectioned for even contemplating such a scenario. Nothing could have prepared me for what I witnessed tonight.
I had stumbled into the duplex, slightly worse for wear I admit but hell! I'm young and free and everything that a 24 year old should be. It was around 12, early by my standards, she was probably expecting me to be out well into the early hours, I usually was if I didn't happen to get lucky along the way, which is unlike me but hey, it was a slow night. I had kicked off my shoes and padded across the carpet to the joined kitchen, there was a bottle of wine on the counter, thinking nothing off it I took a swig, crap it was, dry stuff, probably shared the same chemical formula as toilet duck, but it looked like Clarice had had a good time with it. Not that I could blame her, must be bloody boring sat in on your own all the time trying to avoid every semblance of fun. She really does need to get more fun out of life. Anyway I digress, whilst putting the vile stuff back on the table where I found it I heard what sounded like a dull moan, kind of a achy moan, I thought nothing of it, I hear Clarice talking in her sleep all the time, it's nothing unusual. The moans got louder though and so I began to worry, regardless of how boring she can be sometimes, she's still a damn good girl and I wouldn't want anything to happen to her so I began to head up the stairs, trying to be as light on my feet as I could be in the state I was in, I seemed to have managed it though. I got nearer to her bedroom door, the alcohol really beginning to kick in now, the noises seemed to get louder, and kind of less pain like. Obviously the vodka didn't interpret this and so I pushed the door open gently, slipping it across the carpet. I stepped into the room and felt the bile rush up into my mouth, my jaw dropping in complete shock, Jack Crawford would have been a blessing compared to this, for when I opened my eyes again there, naked was Hannibal Lecter his head assaulting the neck of Special Agent Starling as she lay beneath him, her hands locked tightly into his hair, her eyes jammed shut and her brow beaded with slithers of perspiration.
I screamed. I screamed good. He had bolted upright, not caring one bit for his modesty as he made to launch at me from her bed. She had shushed me, and stopped him from getting any closer to me, I was shaking uncontrollably, tears had welled up and burst through my eyelids. Clarice had covered herself up with the sheet that she had previously been entangled in with Lecter; I looked at her, not seeing the person that I had left that evening, her face was flushed red with blood and her lips plump. She looked flawless, better than I had ever seen her before, and then my eyes skirted her hand was pressed over the chest of Hannibal Lecter, keeping herself in between the two of us. I was thankful for that, becoming tomorrow's breakfast was one of the most forefront things on my mind.
"D." I was startled by the sound of her voice, I took my gaze from her hand and transferred it to her eyes, she was still; they both were.
"We need to talk about this D." You're telling me we need to talk! No shit Sherlock! Of course with Mr. "I eat the rude" there with his fingers in her hair as much as I would have liked to have said it I didn't.
"Agent Mapp, your safety is assured..... So long as you keep away from the telephone that is."
That's when I passed out.
Of course, by time I had come around he had gone, Clarice had tried to pass it off as a hallucination or a dream caused by the amount of liquor I had consumed, but I know what I saw. I saw them together.
AN: Hey I hope you enjoyed this, just a random idea that popped into my head when I had no internet tonight, there are some good things about limited web usage I suppose! I hope you like the POV, Ardelia is forgotten sometimes, but I like to think that she was a good friend to Clarice, even though some of her thoughts in this may seem to the contrary. However, this is a look into her alcohol sizzled brain after all, and living with someone who has Dr. Lecter to entertain them can't be fun for Ardelia!