I don't own them never will.
Author's note. I wrote this for Florence for all the great reviews on silence the lambs project. I hope you will enjoy it.
Time line: 6 months after Hannibal.
revisited
Clarice drover up to her dark and lonely duplex. Ardelia had move two months ago, she thought it best.
Clarice had somehow managed to save her job as an agent, and had avoided chargers for adding a criminal. It was a joke of cause; she had her job because it would have looked bad for the bureau to fire her, the public felt sorry for her.
To be honest Clarice felt sorry for herself, she had a desk job that a secretary could have, and once in a while she got to delivered supinaes But she was still an agent, an agent without a career.
At job the avoided her like she was infected with a deadly decease, Clarice had always thought that Ardi would be there for her, no matter how hot it got, but in the end, even Ardelia thought it too much and with her own promising career in sight she moved out and have since dogged Clarice's calls.
The dark hall greeted Clarice whit her grocery bags, which was mostly filled with mac and cheese and her old pal Jack D. Clarice hated her life, so she drinked her self to sleep every Friday night and used the rest of the weekend with hangovers and running.
Clarice went to the kitchen and turned on the light. She wasn't hungry and didn't bother to make something to eat. Instead she took the bottle and walked into the living room and threw herself on the couch. Turning on the TV and pouring her self a glass.
Clarice zapped through the channels not finding anything she wanted to watch so she settles for an old movie in black and white.
Several glasses later Clarice has passed out and doesn't notice the dark figure coming in from the hall.
Dr. Lecter looked at Clarice's body; her auburn hair covered her face. Lecter saw the half empty bottle and the glass on the table. The TV was on, but there was no sound.
Clarice began to stir and Lecter stepped into the stir darkness and watched Clarice. He wanted to be near her but he would wait a while. For now he would settle for the sight of her, but he knew that it wouldn't satisfied his hunger for long.
Clarice sat up; she looked around almost expecting him to be there, but he wasn't. Clarice fought the tears that were treating to fall. Every night was the same, she relived those moments back at Chesapeake, but her answer wasn't not in a thousand years. The bitterness of it returned.
Clarice rose from her seat turned off the tv. With a whisper she almost cried out for him to hear. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Dr. Lecter. Clarice found her way to the stairs and disappeared into the dark. Lecter stepped out looking in the direction that Clarice had went.
It was almost time, but not yet. He would return, but she needed time.
Almost a year later.
Clarice had quit the FBI. She was finally tired of being the walk over and fuck her. Clarice had gotten a job as a security officer. She still had to come home to her dark duplex.
All the times she had thought about moving, but somehow this was home, and she didn't like the idea of pulling her last roots up.
Fridays had become a ritual, she would drink with her old pall Jack and try not to dream of him, he hunted her waking hours but at night it was worse. At night he would come to her, and make love to her, and leave. It started as a nice dream but would always end in a nightmare.
Clarice drinked to forget and in hope of banishing that dream. He would never return, she had given up hoping for it. He was gone.
She pictured him, sitting on a balcony sipping coffee in the morning brise, and never thinking of her. Clarice missed him. It had come to gradual that she hadn't noticed that she loved him.
She remembered her run in the park when the thought stroke her, she was in love with a cannibal. First she had hated her self for admitting it, she had tried to start a new life, trying to forget what had happened, trying not to remember that she once had been an agent. She had succeeded up to the part where he was involved. He was there lurking in her mind, mocking her, telling her the truths she didn't want to know.
And now he was there telling her that the love he had for her was gone, that he had given her a chance and she blew it.
She was standing in the kitchen, debating with her self whether she wanted to eat or not. She was hungry but too tired to make anything, even if it was just a micro dish. It was just too much right now. Instead she took her phone and called the local pizza house.
Clarice found her seat at the couch and turned on the TV, flipping through the channels and as always finding nothing to watch, Clarice cursed herself for not renting a movie.
Clarice heard the doorbell and rose to open the door.
Author's note. I wrote this for Florence for all the great reviews on silence the lambs project. I hope you will enjoy it.
Time line: 6 months after Hannibal.
revisited
Clarice drover up to her dark and lonely duplex. Ardelia had move two months ago, she thought it best.
Clarice had somehow managed to save her job as an agent, and had avoided chargers for adding a criminal. It was a joke of cause; she had her job because it would have looked bad for the bureau to fire her, the public felt sorry for her.
To be honest Clarice felt sorry for herself, she had a desk job that a secretary could have, and once in a while she got to delivered supinaes But she was still an agent, an agent without a career.
At job the avoided her like she was infected with a deadly decease, Clarice had always thought that Ardi would be there for her, no matter how hot it got, but in the end, even Ardelia thought it too much and with her own promising career in sight she moved out and have since dogged Clarice's calls.
The dark hall greeted Clarice whit her grocery bags, which was mostly filled with mac and cheese and her old pal Jack D. Clarice hated her life, so she drinked her self to sleep every Friday night and used the rest of the weekend with hangovers and running.
Clarice went to the kitchen and turned on the light. She wasn't hungry and didn't bother to make something to eat. Instead she took the bottle and walked into the living room and threw herself on the couch. Turning on the TV and pouring her self a glass.
Clarice zapped through the channels not finding anything she wanted to watch so she settles for an old movie in black and white.
Several glasses later Clarice has passed out and doesn't notice the dark figure coming in from the hall.
Dr. Lecter looked at Clarice's body; her auburn hair covered her face. Lecter saw the half empty bottle and the glass on the table. The TV was on, but there was no sound.
Clarice began to stir and Lecter stepped into the stir darkness and watched Clarice. He wanted to be near her but he would wait a while. For now he would settle for the sight of her, but he knew that it wouldn't satisfied his hunger for long.
Clarice sat up; she looked around almost expecting him to be there, but he wasn't. Clarice fought the tears that were treating to fall. Every night was the same, she relived those moments back at Chesapeake, but her answer wasn't not in a thousand years. The bitterness of it returned.
Clarice rose from her seat turned off the tv. With a whisper she almost cried out for him to hear. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Dr. Lecter. Clarice found her way to the stairs and disappeared into the dark. Lecter stepped out looking in the direction that Clarice had went.
It was almost time, but not yet. He would return, but she needed time.
Almost a year later.
Clarice had quit the FBI. She was finally tired of being the walk over and fuck her. Clarice had gotten a job as a security officer. She still had to come home to her dark duplex.
All the times she had thought about moving, but somehow this was home, and she didn't like the idea of pulling her last roots up.
Fridays had become a ritual, she would drink with her old pall Jack and try not to dream of him, he hunted her waking hours but at night it was worse. At night he would come to her, and make love to her, and leave. It started as a nice dream but would always end in a nightmare.
Clarice drinked to forget and in hope of banishing that dream. He would never return, she had given up hoping for it. He was gone.
She pictured him, sitting on a balcony sipping coffee in the morning brise, and never thinking of her. Clarice missed him. It had come to gradual that she hadn't noticed that she loved him.
She remembered her run in the park when the thought stroke her, she was in love with a cannibal. First she had hated her self for admitting it, she had tried to start a new life, trying to forget what had happened, trying not to remember that she once had been an agent. She had succeeded up to the part where he was involved. He was there lurking in her mind, mocking her, telling her the truths she didn't want to know.
And now he was there telling her that the love he had for her was gone, that he had given her a chance and she blew it.
She was standing in the kitchen, debating with her self whether she wanted to eat or not. She was hungry but too tired to make anything, even if it was just a micro dish. It was just too much right now. Instead she took her phone and called the local pizza house.
Clarice found her seat at the couch and turned on the TV, flipping through the channels and as always finding nothing to watch, Clarice cursed herself for not renting a movie.
Clarice heard the doorbell and rose to open the door.