A/N: This is written for the Visionary quest for this month, and is inspired by the song "Breathing" as performed by Lifehouse. If you're unfamiliar with the song, the lyrics are at the bottom. I'm simply curious as to what others think about this piece. Enjoy
Cannon: Set after the movie, using the alternate ending, as we can't have a one handed Hanni, now can we? : )
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36 hours. A short time, yet an eternity. 36 hours. An entire life analyzed, picked apart, and deciphered. Laying in her bed, her pillow tear stained, Clarice stared blankly into the ceiling. Tonight of all nights she wished for the stars to be out, yet they weren't. She needed a connection before everything would fall apart. Is it possible for one to lead a life that isn't a life at all? This question ran amuck inside Clarice's head. A question, had she posed to herself and actually answered truthfully, that could have saved her years of anger and grief.
Ardelia had already come and gone. Well, actually she was thrown out. She came to Clarice's aid as soon as she learned of the incident on the Chesapeake. Clarice simply didn't want to talk. Her feelings where something she wanted to figure out for herself. She most certainly didn't feel like a therapy session at the moment.
Salty water ceased to flow from Starling's eyes. She felt as though she couldn't shed another tear for the rest of her life. What is worse than finding out you aren't living a real life at all? Living with regret. This was one decision that came easy for her. For 24 hours, Clarice hadn't moved from her bed. Though she hadn't drank anything for some time, she felt the need to release the contents of her bladder and couldn't stand the pain anymore. Trodding into the bathroom, she didn't even bother with turning the light on. No. That would mean she would have to look herself in the face and eventually into her own eyes. She was afraid of what she would see there, afraid of the regret that would fill every shade of blue reflected in the mirror. No matter what, next time she looked into the mirror, she would be sure to remember his words: "…to remind you of your courage and incorruptibility. All you would need for that, Clarice, is a mirror." How could she forget?
Then and there she realized just how he had never abandoned her. Never, not once. When she was out there, all alone left as the meat for the wolves, he was always there to offer advice on how to keep them at bay. Even when he wasn't there physically, he was always there mentally. How could she have been so blind as to have not seen it? Even Ardelia, her best friend in the entire world, hadn't been able to offer her sufficient guise. Crawford, as much as he had tried, had never even compared to Hannibal Lecter. What the hell was she thinking? No one could ever possibly try to compare to him.
Having taken care of business, she stopped at the sink before going back to bed. Turning on the knob labeled "C", she proceeded to cup her hands underneath the water until they were full. Cold water met her face, and before it could dry a cool wind swept through the window. It felt good on her swollen face that was covered in salt. Standing with her eyes closed, she allowed the breeze to hit her once more. When it stopped blowing, a realization set in. Her eyes grew wide with fear, for she was positive the window had been closed when she got up. The room had been too stuffy for the window to have been open.
Quickly Clarice ran to her dresser drawer to find her gun. Creeping back to her bed, she leaned over to look out the window, yet never made it. Right before she reached the point of a visual outside the window, it caught her eye. There, on her pillow. A single red rose and a piece of parchment. Taking a breath she cold smell it, smell him. He had been here. But how? She was only gone for a few minutes. The question was soon forgotten as she picked up the rose and touched it to her nose. The parchment was next. Inhaling his scent brought back the onslaught of memories. The night would have been so much easier had she not been in a drug induced haze.
A quick look out of the window proved no one to be around. He hadn't left the country yet. YET. Resigning to the bed, so laid the rose on her night stand and carefully unfolded the paper.
Clarice-
As you can ascertain from this letter, I am still in the country. I have not abandoned you much as your precious FBI has done. I have always been here and will continue to be. I take it you're not resting well. You don't look too well.
Perhaps this time you're spending, wallowing in the aftermath of your decision, is good for you after all. If you ever need to talk, you need only ask. I AM STILL HERE. I wish the other night's incident hadn't ended as it had. Tell me something, Clarice, how would you be feeling if you had captured me? If you had brought me to them, would you be in a better mood? Due make an attempt to answer, now. Truthfully. Lying to yourself only cheats you. The world knows you've had enough of that lately. Self-destruction is never beneficial.
Love,
Hannibal
P.S. Do get something to eat, dear. Don't let your appetite be the excuse for weakness.
Ta, Ta, H
Clarice simply sat there, staring out into the darkness in front of her, the letter falling to the floor. He knew exactly how she was feeling without having to come out and say it completely. Damn him. Pretentious insight never seemed to have the desired effect on her. It wasn't until the warm liquid hit her knee that she realized perhaps she wasn't through crying. But this time, it was merely a single tear, much like when she was against the refrigerator.
It is now time for a decision. I decision she thought she'd never have to make. The last 48 hours of her life had been spent tearing at the palpable wall of justice that warded off any other way of looking at "the system" as does tin foil in the sun. Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, she experienced the falling sensation one does at odd times when they are trying to sleep. Her eyes busted open faster than she was at pulling the trigger of her .45, and instantly she knew exactly what she had to do. It was time to quit bullshitting herself and go for the gusto. After all, that's apparently what he intended with the letter.
Peeling her body from the bed, she first began to move to the closet to gather her clothing, but stopped short of the knob on the door. What was she taking anything for? There was nothing in her life that she wanted to go with her, nothing at all. It all served as reminders of a past she'd rather bury. One thing though, she did need to change into decent clothes. Throwing on a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, she grabbed her keys to head downstairs. As she was about to walk out of the house, her stomach screamed in protest and wounded her with an intense wave of pain from having been neglected for some time. Realizing she wasn't going far without grabbing something to eat, she walked into the kitchen but promptly stopped again. Parchment on the countertop greeted her.
C-
I took the privilege of making you something to eat. It should give you some energy.
-H
She looked around but saw nothing that would constitute as a Lecter meal until she opened the refrigerator. The little light blinded her as the door came open and shielding her eyes, she found a small Tupperware container. Inside was simply a sandwich, yet not so simply. It wasn't the ordinary sandwich on store bought white bread. No, this was undoubtedly some of the finest bread, ham, cheese, and turkey that one could ever buy. She poured herself a glass of coke and scarfed the sandwich down.
Heading toward the door, she was smacked square in the face by one fact. While Lecter had said he was "still here," he hadn't said exactly where "here" was. Her mind raced as her head began to pound. Sitting down at her table, she stared into the dark corners, willing her headache to go away. How the next events happened, she wasn't sure, and may never be, yet she wouldn't change a thing.
Out of the shadows, Dr. Lecter materialized. At first, Clarice made no movement, thinking it was all a figment of her imagination. Not only had Dr. Lecter sent her a letter, and made her a meal, but he was now standing in front of her. Impossible. Taking a few steps closer, Dr. Lecter was now in range to touch her. In fact, he did so as he spoke.
"I trust your meal was satisfactory."
Her mind was racing faster than ever before. The pounding seeming as though someone was hitting her with a sledgehammer every second or so. Her breathing became fast and furious as she started gasping for air. She looked much like a fire dying for oxygen. Heat spread throughout her body from the sensation of his fingers against the bare skin of her arm. She remembered him winking at her before the pain came, along with more darkness.
When Clarice woke again, it was hard for her to ascertain exactly where she was and the time. Soft glow of candles wafted the room, Tennessee lavender hung in the air, filling her lungs. Supple and cool material enveloped her body. It gently reminded her of him, as the color was the exact shade of his eyes. Sitting up on her elbows, she glanced around, quickly processing the thought that she was no longer at home, being that her bed had never felt this comfortable, and that he had obviously brought her here.
Pain reared its ugly head. Her arm reached up to touch her head, finding a bandage there. Assaulting waves of pain pounded inside, leaving her with a nauseous feeling. Memories began to flood her mind, unleashing a torrent of pain nearly as tough to deal with as the physical ache. Memories are often sporadic, and choose only to scratch the surface when they are least expected or needed to. But for Clarice Starling, memories have made her who she is and constitute for nearly every moralcoursing through her veins. It is perhaps these said memories that caused a breakthrough of the serum of morality and opened her eyes to the decision she'd made prior to his arrival that evening.
Alas, memory trips do not and can not last forever. Warmth touched her, spreading a fire that landed home inside her very core. A sharp snap of her neck landed her eyes with the one person she'd been looking for. Where he'd materialized from was a quick question to her tongue, yet it went unvoiced as she felt him trying to get her to lie back down.
Dr. Lecter stood before Clarice, adjacent to the bed she was lying in. A light pen filled his right hand as the left moved to each of her eyes. He noted that a concussion had not been sustained, despite the gash to her forehead. Retracting the light to his breast pocket, a hand moved to her hair, stroking it as his eyes stroked hers.
"Clarice…." Voice silky smooth. Electricity popped the air.
"You took a rather nasty fall in your kitchen. Tell me how you feel."
"I..I'm fine." Her eyes searched his finding a trace of concern. "Where are we?"
"Let's just say I like the 'home court' advantage." A sly smile formulated on his lips. At the moment, so many things began floating through Clarice's head. There was so much to say, yet no idea where to begin. She could tell he was about to speak again, and given their past she knew that once he got started, it could be hard to interrupt him.
Clarice sat up, Lecter's mouth opening to form sounds and words. Her hand cut through the heavy air, her finger landing on his lip. Time suspended, nothing else in the world mattered besides these two people. Looking deep into maroon orbs, Clarice was uncertain of what was lying beneath their surface, but there was plainly a reflection of her own self seen there. Lecter's eyes closed as a sharp inhalation of breath was taken. Clarice saw this as her chance to speak.
"Doctor, I've got a few things to say, and I would appreciate it if you wouldn't interrupt me until I'm done." She took a deep breath, uncertain of exactly how to continue. Shutting her eyes, she let out a sigh.
"That night…..those were some strong drugs you had me on. I'm still not exactly sure what was going on. I've been shaken ever since. All I know….. I just….." Words failed her. Through the loss of one thing, the body will compensate with the surging of another. A single tear had traced its way down her face, falling into her lap. With time suspended, she did the only thing she could. All at once, her arms came around to his body. Energy surged between the two, and for a few moments, Lecter was unsure how to react. Could it be possible that she was finally seeing what he'd been trying to convey to her all alone? Could this be some elaborate trap? No, it was too late for that. Besides, he'd taken caution to be sure there was no one following them. In return, he did the only thing he knew: hug her in return.
At that moment, Lecter knew that all previous attempts to get her to see the light had not been in vain. The culmination of all those had proved to break her down, and allow truth that she had been adamantly denied to seep in, take root and grow. His little cub was no more. Now a full fledged adult, she was too big to play with, at least in certain aspects.
"Clarice." There it was again, this time reverberating off the skin of her neck. Tinny ripples of excitement soared over her body, the consequent shiver too much to contain. Clarice pulled back slightly from their embrace.
"You don't have to say anything. Just lie here next to me. Hold me. That's all I ask."
And for the first time in his life, Hannibal Lecter, murderer of countless, insane 'monster' to the public, did just that. Lying next to his little Starling, he covered her in his warmth. With hooded eyes, he placed tiny kisses all over her neck and shoulder. Clarice hung on for dear life, afraid to let go, afraid of the fall. For some time she simply laid there, her head against his simple heart beat, listening to the hypnotic rhythm of his breathing. Sleep was not far. There was so much he wanted to say, and despite how difficult he found it to not say a word, he granted her request, realizing that words were no longer necessary.
It wasn't long before Clarice drifted off to sleep. It was impossible for Hannibal to keep from thinking about the morning that would inevitably come. He was unsure how she would react in the morning, if she would even remember her wordless confession this night. In case she did, endless scenarios began to fill his head. He was doubtful that she would about face now. He would like to envision them in a happy ending, a fairy tale of sorts, yet he would not allow himself to subscribe to such hypocrisy. She may be content for a while, perhaps even her lifetime with him, but the life he would force her to lead would not be an easy road. Lying with her, he began to play fancy to the sacrifices she would have to make, the connections she would sever. Not those with the FBI, mind you, rather those connected with the normalcies of everyday life. While freeing her in some ways, he would be asking her to give up freedom in other aspects. Never before had he entertained these thoughts, not even when he was prepared to take her with him that night on the Chesapeake. Would she really consent to such?
The moment he asked himself that question, he was reassured of its answer. Clarice stirred in his arms, her eyes fluttering open. Soft flesh of her lips sought out his. Sultry desire was quenched for the moment, their tongues probing one another. It was impossible for Clarice to not feel the smile that engorged Hannibal's lips. She pulled back, only far enough from his lips to allow him to speak, and even when he did she could feel his lips touch hers, feather light. It gave her a sensation she hoped to never grow tired of.
"Is there a problem, Clarice?"
"No, not at all…..Hannibal. Simply a question: what are you thinking?"
It seemed as though his smile couldn't get any larger, yet did. He found it most intriguing to be unable to control himself at this moment.
With a finger trailing along her cheek, down to her jaw line, he grasped her chin with his hand, holding her head steady as he spoke. His eyes burning into hers, the connection was impossible to crack.
"Why only you dear. What else could be on my mind?"
While that wasn't the entire truth, it was enough to sustain her. Would she really consent to such? Hell yes. He had seen it in her eyes, this unrelenting consent. There was no need to ask her to be positive. This was simply one of the unvoiced questions that would never need voicing. As if it were possible, he pulled her tighter to his body.
"Thank you."
He searched her eyes. Though his look wasn't quizzical, she was certain he was trying to decipher meaning.
"Thank you for being you, for being here."
Unabashed passion leaked from the inside his soul and flowed into Clarice. His hands came around her neck, landing on her cheeks as the slow descent of his lips began onto hers. Her breathing hitched at the moment of contact as she felt what words would never be able to express. Only the night and HIM above would be witness to the rest of the evenings festivities.
From this moment, happy ever after would be a good guess. But a guess is merely that. Can two people broken by society ever really find true, complete, and utter happiness? We would like to think so. While nature may go against this union, nature can not go against love. Come from where it may, love is love, true as the wild blue sky. Can two people full of love for life find solace and sustenance in a look of the others eye as this love for life is for must be fitted for a different love? We would certainly like to think so. No matter the outcome, they will have this night, this time, as their own. Claimed with an unbreakable grip, no one can take this from them. Will this grip sustain the test of time? We would like to think so.
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Here is the song, which inspired me to write. This is by Lifehouse.
Breathing
Finding my way back to sanity again. Thought I don't really know what I'm gonna do when I get there. Take a breath and hold on tight. Spin around one more time. And gracefully fall back to the arms of grace.
Chorus:
Cuz I am hanging on every word you say. And even if you don't wanna speak tonight that's alright, alright with me cuz I want nothing more than to sit outside heaven's door and listen to you breathing. Is where I wanna be. Where I wanna be
Looking past the shadows in my mind into the truth and I'm trying to identify the voices in my head. God which one's you.
Let me feel one more time what it feels like to feel and break these calluses off me one more time.
Chorus
I don't want a thing from you. Bet you're tired of me waiting for the straps to fall off of your table to the ground. Cuz I just want to be here now.
Chorus (Repeat)
Where I want to be.
Cannon: Set after the movie, using the alternate ending, as we can't have a one handed Hanni, now can we? : )
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36 hours. A short time, yet an eternity. 36 hours. An entire life analyzed, picked apart, and deciphered. Laying in her bed, her pillow tear stained, Clarice stared blankly into the ceiling. Tonight of all nights she wished for the stars to be out, yet they weren't. She needed a connection before everything would fall apart. Is it possible for one to lead a life that isn't a life at all? This question ran amuck inside Clarice's head. A question, had she posed to herself and actually answered truthfully, that could have saved her years of anger and grief.
Ardelia had already come and gone. Well, actually she was thrown out. She came to Clarice's aid as soon as she learned of the incident on the Chesapeake. Clarice simply didn't want to talk. Her feelings where something she wanted to figure out for herself. She most certainly didn't feel like a therapy session at the moment.
Salty water ceased to flow from Starling's eyes. She felt as though she couldn't shed another tear for the rest of her life. What is worse than finding out you aren't living a real life at all? Living with regret. This was one decision that came easy for her. For 24 hours, Clarice hadn't moved from her bed. Though she hadn't drank anything for some time, she felt the need to release the contents of her bladder and couldn't stand the pain anymore. Trodding into the bathroom, she didn't even bother with turning the light on. No. That would mean she would have to look herself in the face and eventually into her own eyes. She was afraid of what she would see there, afraid of the regret that would fill every shade of blue reflected in the mirror. No matter what, next time she looked into the mirror, she would be sure to remember his words: "…to remind you of your courage and incorruptibility. All you would need for that, Clarice, is a mirror." How could she forget?
Then and there she realized just how he had never abandoned her. Never, not once. When she was out there, all alone left as the meat for the wolves, he was always there to offer advice on how to keep them at bay. Even when he wasn't there physically, he was always there mentally. How could she have been so blind as to have not seen it? Even Ardelia, her best friend in the entire world, hadn't been able to offer her sufficient guise. Crawford, as much as he had tried, had never even compared to Hannibal Lecter. What the hell was she thinking? No one could ever possibly try to compare to him.
Having taken care of business, she stopped at the sink before going back to bed. Turning on the knob labeled "C", she proceeded to cup her hands underneath the water until they were full. Cold water met her face, and before it could dry a cool wind swept through the window. It felt good on her swollen face that was covered in salt. Standing with her eyes closed, she allowed the breeze to hit her once more. When it stopped blowing, a realization set in. Her eyes grew wide with fear, for she was positive the window had been closed when she got up. The room had been too stuffy for the window to have been open.
Quickly Clarice ran to her dresser drawer to find her gun. Creeping back to her bed, she leaned over to look out the window, yet never made it. Right before she reached the point of a visual outside the window, it caught her eye. There, on her pillow. A single red rose and a piece of parchment. Taking a breath she cold smell it, smell him. He had been here. But how? She was only gone for a few minutes. The question was soon forgotten as she picked up the rose and touched it to her nose. The parchment was next. Inhaling his scent brought back the onslaught of memories. The night would have been so much easier had she not been in a drug induced haze.
A quick look out of the window proved no one to be around. He hadn't left the country yet. YET. Resigning to the bed, so laid the rose on her night stand and carefully unfolded the paper.
Clarice-
As you can ascertain from this letter, I am still in the country. I have not abandoned you much as your precious FBI has done. I have always been here and will continue to be. I take it you're not resting well. You don't look too well.
Perhaps this time you're spending, wallowing in the aftermath of your decision, is good for you after all. If you ever need to talk, you need only ask. I AM STILL HERE. I wish the other night's incident hadn't ended as it had. Tell me something, Clarice, how would you be feeling if you had captured me? If you had brought me to them, would you be in a better mood? Due make an attempt to answer, now. Truthfully. Lying to yourself only cheats you. The world knows you've had enough of that lately. Self-destruction is never beneficial.
Love,
Hannibal
P.S. Do get something to eat, dear. Don't let your appetite be the excuse for weakness.
Ta, Ta, H
Clarice simply sat there, staring out into the darkness in front of her, the letter falling to the floor. He knew exactly how she was feeling without having to come out and say it completely. Damn him. Pretentious insight never seemed to have the desired effect on her. It wasn't until the warm liquid hit her knee that she realized perhaps she wasn't through crying. But this time, it was merely a single tear, much like when she was against the refrigerator.
It is now time for a decision. I decision she thought she'd never have to make. The last 48 hours of her life had been spent tearing at the palpable wall of justice that warded off any other way of looking at "the system" as does tin foil in the sun. Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, she experienced the falling sensation one does at odd times when they are trying to sleep. Her eyes busted open faster than she was at pulling the trigger of her .45, and instantly she knew exactly what she had to do. It was time to quit bullshitting herself and go for the gusto. After all, that's apparently what he intended with the letter.
Peeling her body from the bed, she first began to move to the closet to gather her clothing, but stopped short of the knob on the door. What was she taking anything for? There was nothing in her life that she wanted to go with her, nothing at all. It all served as reminders of a past she'd rather bury. One thing though, she did need to change into decent clothes. Throwing on a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, she grabbed her keys to head downstairs. As she was about to walk out of the house, her stomach screamed in protest and wounded her with an intense wave of pain from having been neglected for some time. Realizing she wasn't going far without grabbing something to eat, she walked into the kitchen but promptly stopped again. Parchment on the countertop greeted her.
C-
I took the privilege of making you something to eat. It should give you some energy.
-H
She looked around but saw nothing that would constitute as a Lecter meal until she opened the refrigerator. The little light blinded her as the door came open and shielding her eyes, she found a small Tupperware container. Inside was simply a sandwich, yet not so simply. It wasn't the ordinary sandwich on store bought white bread. No, this was undoubtedly some of the finest bread, ham, cheese, and turkey that one could ever buy. She poured herself a glass of coke and scarfed the sandwich down.
Heading toward the door, she was smacked square in the face by one fact. While Lecter had said he was "still here," he hadn't said exactly where "here" was. Her mind raced as her head began to pound. Sitting down at her table, she stared into the dark corners, willing her headache to go away. How the next events happened, she wasn't sure, and may never be, yet she wouldn't change a thing.
Out of the shadows, Dr. Lecter materialized. At first, Clarice made no movement, thinking it was all a figment of her imagination. Not only had Dr. Lecter sent her a letter, and made her a meal, but he was now standing in front of her. Impossible. Taking a few steps closer, Dr. Lecter was now in range to touch her. In fact, he did so as he spoke.
"I trust your meal was satisfactory."
Her mind was racing faster than ever before. The pounding seeming as though someone was hitting her with a sledgehammer every second or so. Her breathing became fast and furious as she started gasping for air. She looked much like a fire dying for oxygen. Heat spread throughout her body from the sensation of his fingers against the bare skin of her arm. She remembered him winking at her before the pain came, along with more darkness.
When Clarice woke again, it was hard for her to ascertain exactly where she was and the time. Soft glow of candles wafted the room, Tennessee lavender hung in the air, filling her lungs. Supple and cool material enveloped her body. It gently reminded her of him, as the color was the exact shade of his eyes. Sitting up on her elbows, she glanced around, quickly processing the thought that she was no longer at home, being that her bed had never felt this comfortable, and that he had obviously brought her here.
Pain reared its ugly head. Her arm reached up to touch her head, finding a bandage there. Assaulting waves of pain pounded inside, leaving her with a nauseous feeling. Memories began to flood her mind, unleashing a torrent of pain nearly as tough to deal with as the physical ache. Memories are often sporadic, and choose only to scratch the surface when they are least expected or needed to. But for Clarice Starling, memories have made her who she is and constitute for nearly every moralcoursing through her veins. It is perhaps these said memories that caused a breakthrough of the serum of morality and opened her eyes to the decision she'd made prior to his arrival that evening.
Alas, memory trips do not and can not last forever. Warmth touched her, spreading a fire that landed home inside her very core. A sharp snap of her neck landed her eyes with the one person she'd been looking for. Where he'd materialized from was a quick question to her tongue, yet it went unvoiced as she felt him trying to get her to lie back down.
Dr. Lecter stood before Clarice, adjacent to the bed she was lying in. A light pen filled his right hand as the left moved to each of her eyes. He noted that a concussion had not been sustained, despite the gash to her forehead. Retracting the light to his breast pocket, a hand moved to her hair, stroking it as his eyes stroked hers.
"Clarice…." Voice silky smooth. Electricity popped the air.
"You took a rather nasty fall in your kitchen. Tell me how you feel."
"I..I'm fine." Her eyes searched his finding a trace of concern. "Where are we?"
"Let's just say I like the 'home court' advantage." A sly smile formulated on his lips. At the moment, so many things began floating through Clarice's head. There was so much to say, yet no idea where to begin. She could tell he was about to speak again, and given their past she knew that once he got started, it could be hard to interrupt him.
Clarice sat up, Lecter's mouth opening to form sounds and words. Her hand cut through the heavy air, her finger landing on his lip. Time suspended, nothing else in the world mattered besides these two people. Looking deep into maroon orbs, Clarice was uncertain of what was lying beneath their surface, but there was plainly a reflection of her own self seen there. Lecter's eyes closed as a sharp inhalation of breath was taken. Clarice saw this as her chance to speak.
"Doctor, I've got a few things to say, and I would appreciate it if you wouldn't interrupt me until I'm done." She took a deep breath, uncertain of exactly how to continue. Shutting her eyes, she let out a sigh.
"That night…..those were some strong drugs you had me on. I'm still not exactly sure what was going on. I've been shaken ever since. All I know….. I just….." Words failed her. Through the loss of one thing, the body will compensate with the surging of another. A single tear had traced its way down her face, falling into her lap. With time suspended, she did the only thing she could. All at once, her arms came around to his body. Energy surged between the two, and for a few moments, Lecter was unsure how to react. Could it be possible that she was finally seeing what he'd been trying to convey to her all alone? Could this be some elaborate trap? No, it was too late for that. Besides, he'd taken caution to be sure there was no one following them. In return, he did the only thing he knew: hug her in return.
At that moment, Lecter knew that all previous attempts to get her to see the light had not been in vain. The culmination of all those had proved to break her down, and allow truth that she had been adamantly denied to seep in, take root and grow. His little cub was no more. Now a full fledged adult, she was too big to play with, at least in certain aspects.
"Clarice." There it was again, this time reverberating off the skin of her neck. Tinny ripples of excitement soared over her body, the consequent shiver too much to contain. Clarice pulled back slightly from their embrace.
"You don't have to say anything. Just lie here next to me. Hold me. That's all I ask."
And for the first time in his life, Hannibal Lecter, murderer of countless, insane 'monster' to the public, did just that. Lying next to his little Starling, he covered her in his warmth. With hooded eyes, he placed tiny kisses all over her neck and shoulder. Clarice hung on for dear life, afraid to let go, afraid of the fall. For some time she simply laid there, her head against his simple heart beat, listening to the hypnotic rhythm of his breathing. Sleep was not far. There was so much he wanted to say, and despite how difficult he found it to not say a word, he granted her request, realizing that words were no longer necessary.
It wasn't long before Clarice drifted off to sleep. It was impossible for Hannibal to keep from thinking about the morning that would inevitably come. He was unsure how she would react in the morning, if she would even remember her wordless confession this night. In case she did, endless scenarios began to fill his head. He was doubtful that she would about face now. He would like to envision them in a happy ending, a fairy tale of sorts, yet he would not allow himself to subscribe to such hypocrisy. She may be content for a while, perhaps even her lifetime with him, but the life he would force her to lead would not be an easy road. Lying with her, he began to play fancy to the sacrifices she would have to make, the connections she would sever. Not those with the FBI, mind you, rather those connected with the normalcies of everyday life. While freeing her in some ways, he would be asking her to give up freedom in other aspects. Never before had he entertained these thoughts, not even when he was prepared to take her with him that night on the Chesapeake. Would she really consent to such?
The moment he asked himself that question, he was reassured of its answer. Clarice stirred in his arms, her eyes fluttering open. Soft flesh of her lips sought out his. Sultry desire was quenched for the moment, their tongues probing one another. It was impossible for Clarice to not feel the smile that engorged Hannibal's lips. She pulled back, only far enough from his lips to allow him to speak, and even when he did she could feel his lips touch hers, feather light. It gave her a sensation she hoped to never grow tired of.
"Is there a problem, Clarice?"
"No, not at all…..Hannibal. Simply a question: what are you thinking?"
It seemed as though his smile couldn't get any larger, yet did. He found it most intriguing to be unable to control himself at this moment.
With a finger trailing along her cheek, down to her jaw line, he grasped her chin with his hand, holding her head steady as he spoke. His eyes burning into hers, the connection was impossible to crack.
"Why only you dear. What else could be on my mind?"
While that wasn't the entire truth, it was enough to sustain her. Would she really consent to such? Hell yes. He had seen it in her eyes, this unrelenting consent. There was no need to ask her to be positive. This was simply one of the unvoiced questions that would never need voicing. As if it were possible, he pulled her tighter to his body.
"Thank you."
He searched her eyes. Though his look wasn't quizzical, she was certain he was trying to decipher meaning.
"Thank you for being you, for being here."
Unabashed passion leaked from the inside his soul and flowed into Clarice. His hands came around her neck, landing on her cheeks as the slow descent of his lips began onto hers. Her breathing hitched at the moment of contact as she felt what words would never be able to express. Only the night and HIM above would be witness to the rest of the evenings festivities.
From this moment, happy ever after would be a good guess. But a guess is merely that. Can two people broken by society ever really find true, complete, and utter happiness? We would like to think so. While nature may go against this union, nature can not go against love. Come from where it may, love is love, true as the wild blue sky. Can two people full of love for life find solace and sustenance in a look of the others eye as this love for life is for must be fitted for a different love? We would certainly like to think so. No matter the outcome, they will have this night, this time, as their own. Claimed with an unbreakable grip, no one can take this from them. Will this grip sustain the test of time? We would like to think so.
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Here is the song, which inspired me to write. This is by Lifehouse.
Breathing
Finding my way back to sanity again. Thought I don't really know what I'm gonna do when I get there. Take a breath and hold on tight. Spin around one more time. And gracefully fall back to the arms of grace.
Chorus:
Cuz I am hanging on every word you say. And even if you don't wanna speak tonight that's alright, alright with me cuz I want nothing more than to sit outside heaven's door and listen to you breathing. Is where I wanna be. Where I wanna be
Looking past the shadows in my mind into the truth and I'm trying to identify the voices in my head. God which one's you.
Let me feel one more time what it feels like to feel and break these calluses off me one more time.
Chorus
I don't want a thing from you. Bet you're tired of me waiting for the straps to fall off of your table to the ground. Cuz I just want to be here now.
Chorus (Repeat)
Where I want to be.