AN: Hello my friends! As you can see by the name of this fic, there will be some mature themes throughout. Don't say I didn't warn you!
Disclaimer: As you're all aware, I own none of the characters, they belong to the amazing Thomas Harris.
The FBI had let her go. She had nothing left. She found comfort in whiskey. Jack Daniel's to be precise. Her favourite man. Her whole career gone in an instant. It was wrong of her to attack Paul Krendler, but he did deserve it. They all hated her for being on top. Being better than them. God forbid if a women was ever better than a man in the workplace.
She sighed, downing the last of her whiskey that sat at the bottom of the bottle. She stared into the open fire in front of her, watching the flames dance before her eyes. She had been doing this for a few weeks, not noticing the weight she was losing by not eating, the dark circles around her eyes and the paleness in her complexion. Even if she had noticed, she wouldn't care. She was falling into a deep dark chasm, with no hope of ever being able to get out.
She snapped out of her daze on hearing something coming through the letterbox. Rolling her eyes, she stood up from the sofa and headed for the front door. She glanced down at the mat by the door, frowning.
I don't think the postman comes at one in the morning.
She ignored the letter, opening the front door quickly, stepping out onto the porch. After glancing around, seeing nothing through the darkness, she went back inside. She then picked up the small envelope that sat on the mat in front of her. Her eyes widened slightly on seeing the handwriting on the front.
You've got to be kidding me.
She returned to the living room, taking a seat on the sofa before opening the letter.
Dear Clarice,
I have been watching you from afar and I must say, Jack can't help you now, my dear. That awful looking liquid you have been consuming daily will not take away the pain, I assure you. Perhaps I could help in some way, hm?
I didn't think you had it in you to attack Mr Krendler. Bravo Clarice, bravo. Although I shouldn't say this, but the man did deserve it, even after what I had done to him. Your face has again been all over the news Special Agent Starling. Or should I say, EX Special Agent?
That was a low blow, even for you Doctor Lecter.
You worked hard for them, Clarice. They didn't appreciate you, and you know that, yet you still miss it. You miss the thrill of the chase. The action. The power. But now that has been taken away from you. Do you miss me, Clarice? Or would you still like to see me incarcerated? I'll see you soon, Ex Special Agent Starling.
Ta ta,
Hannibal Lecter. M.D
She stared at the letter in disbelief. He had contacted her. He risked his freedom to contact her. Why? She shook her head, throwing the letter onto the fire, watching it burn.
Deciding she needed another drink, she headed into the kitchen. Taking out the last bottle of whiskey she had, she filled her glass before taking a long sip from it.
"Good 'ole Jack saves the day." She'd mumble to herself before returning to the living room, clutching the bottle and her glass.
She walked towards the sofa, tripping over her feet and dropping the bottle and glass as she fell to the floor.
She didn't know how long she was unconscious for. But when she woke up, the smashed glass was no longer there. The whiskey that had spilled on the floor was also gone. She frowned as she sat up, realising she was on the sofa.
Did I dream that?
She moved her hand to her head, wincing as she touched it gently.
Nope, that was most definitely not a dream. Shit that hurts.
She tried to stand up before falling back onto the sofa, groaning.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you." A smooth metallic voice purred from behind her.
She jumped forward onto the coffee table in front of her, falling onto the floor.
"My my Clarice. Aren't you clumsy." He approached her from behind the sofa.
She backed away from him, holding up her hand.
"Stay right there." She hissed.
He stayed still, allowing her to stand up, wobbling slightly as she gained her balance.
"What the fuck are you doing in my house?" She slurred, frowning.
Doctor Lecter raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"You're drunk, Clarice. You're not very polite when you're drunk."
"You came into my house uninvited. I'd say that's not very polite, don't you think?" She growled.
"Point well taken. I apologise, Clarice."
She rolled her eyes, moving her hand to point at the door.
"Please leave." She muttered.
He nodded, moving slowly towards the door. On hearing the familiar sound of someone cocking a gun, he turned around, finding Clarice pointing her trusty colt at him. At his crotch to be exact.
"Clarice, if you're going to wave that around, I would appreciate if you aimed a little higher."
She scowled at him, moving a little closer.
"Are you going to do it, little Starling? Do you have the strength to pull that trigger?"
She continued to move closer to him until they stood a couple of meters apart. She readied the gun, swaying slightly, and losing concentration from the alcohol. Unbeknown to Clarice, Doctor Lecter had retrieved his harpy from his pocket, letting it rest in his hand, ready.
"Can you do it, Clarice?" He smiled a little at her.
She lunged forward, swinging her gun to hit him around the face. Of course, Doctor Lecter's reactions were much faster than Clarice's. He caught her arm, turning her around, pressing her against the wall behind her. He held her in place, pushing his knee between her legs, holding her hands against the wall with one of his, using the other to press his harpy at her throat.
"Bad move, Clarice." He hissed in her ear.
Her breathing was heavy, feeling his chest pressed against her back. Her cheek was crushed against the wall as she tried to look at him. She tried to struggle against him, but her movements ceased when he began to gently press the harpy into her skin.
"I don't think I can trust you to behave, Clarice. So I'm going to have to take some extra precautions, do you understand?"
Other than gritting her teeth, she didn't respond. He smiled, taking the handcuffs he had retrieved from the draw in the foyer, bringing her wrists down behind her back, securing them with the cuffs.
"Now, that's better." He paused before smirking. "I do rather like this position, Clarice." His breath tickled her ear.
"Bastard." She hissed at him as he stepped away from her.
She turned around slowly, leaning against the wall, staring at him angrily. Her anger only amused him further.
"In certain situations, I'd like you bound like that very much." He smirked, winking at her.
She'd shake her head laughing at him.
"You've got a nerve."
"Come now, Clarice. I believe we have some unfinished business."
"Unfinished business? You can say that again." She rolled her eyes before scowling at him. "Doctor Lecter, it's the middle of the night. What are you doing here?"
"Actually Clarice, I presumed you would have passed out by now. I just stopped by to post that letter."
"How nice of you. Now you have done that, you can leave."
"Like I said, little Starling, we have unfinished business. Luckily for me, you are still awake."
"And what 'unfinished business' might that be?"
He held up his hand, showing a small scar around his thumb. She gazed at it, frowning with guilt. He studied her reaction, satisfied.
"I didn't mean for that to happen." She murmured.
"All I needed was the key, Clarice."
"I know. But I couldn't just give it to you, could I?"
He smiled briefly, taking a step closer to her.
"Yes, you could have. But you chose not to. Which is understandable. After all, I am a cannibalistic serial killer." He smiled, winking at her.
She pressed herself against the wall behind her, breathing quickly. He took another step closer to her, making her panic. She ran around him, out of the living room and up the stairs. Running into the bedroom, she slammed the door behind her with her foot, mentally kicking herself for getting trapped. She stood at the far side of the room, hearing Doctor Lecter slowly make his way up the stairs.
Shit. Think Starling. Think!
She moved towards the bedside table, opening it with her hands from behind. She then turned around, looking inside the draw, grinning as she saw the spare set of handcuff keys. Picking them up carefully, she attempted to undo the cuffs.
Suddenly the bedroom door opened. He approached her slowly, as she continued to fumble around with the keys. He sighed, reaching to take the keys off her. Before he could, she kicked out at him, jumping onto the bed. He growled in frustration, pinning her down on to the bed, his body hovering over hers. She gasped, eyes wide at his move, her chest rising and falling rapidly. He pulled out his harpy, pressing it gently to her throat.
"That wasn't necessary, Clarice."
She shook her head gently.
"You win, Hannibal." She whispered.
He frowned for a moment in confusion.
"This was more than just a game, Clarice." He removed the harpy from her throat, placing it back into his pocket.
"Was it?"
"You know it was." He lowered his head towards her, gazing into her eyes. "It was always so much more."
"Please don't." She whispered.
"Don't what?" He replied, continuing to move closer to her so his lips were barely touching hers.
Before she could reply, he pressed his lips gently to hers. At first, she didn't respond. But within moments, her body gave in. She kissed him back. She needed him. She yearned for him.
With her hands still bound behind her back, she used her force to push her body up, seeking contact with his. He smiled against her lips, pressing his body against hers. He was rewarded with a breathy moan from his beloved little Starling.
She pulled away, glancing up at him, her breathing fast.
"I can't. It's so wrong." She whispered.
He kissed her neck slowly, gently biting as he went. She closed her eyes briefly before speaking again.
"Please, un-cuff me."
"Do you promise to behave?" His tone was playful.
"Yes."
He pulled her up gently, taking the keys that sat in the palm of her hand before un-cuffing her. She flexed her wrists, gazing up at him, biting on her lower lip. She then reached forward, quickly kissing him. He pinned her back down on the bed, grinding his hips against hers as he let his tongue glide across her lips, seeking entry. Her lips parted slightly as she ran her fingers through his hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss.
This is what she wanted. Him. She wanted him.
She pushed her hips up to meet his, moaning as his trousers ran along her sweet spot. She wanted more. So much more.
"I need you." She whispered before kissing him again.
Hannibal stopped himself, gazing down at her.
"You're drunk. You'll regret this tomorrow." He murmured.
"Hannibal. Please. Now." She said, leaning up, kissing his neck.
"I'm sorry Clarice." He said, quickly getting off the bed. "I'm so sorry."
Within seconds, he was out the door, leaving Clarice bewildered on the bed. She sat up, frowning before walking to the window. She saw Hannibal walking swiftly down the street into the darkness.
What just happened?
