Deftly he unravelled his hand from around the doorknob, stepping silently over the threshold. Quite unbelievably this had been the first and only time he had invaded this space, he had gallantly kept away purely out of respect for her, not for lack of wanting to. It was his gift to her, for so long now he had allowed her to live her life in peace from him he had not harassed her physically; darkened her door and yet he was here, searching out the scent that he had not had the pleasure in inhaling for upon 10 years.

He padded over her living room carpet noting the mass of auburn hair on the other side of the sofa softly rising and falling with the same rhythm as her breath. He followed his way around the sofa, waiting for the moment he would see the face which had both eluded and haunted him since 10 years previous when he had allowed himself the lucid pleasure of touching her delectable skin with his own. She has broken down every barrier that day; she had let him capture her very essence that afternoon and he relished the thought with pride.

His eyes met the porcelain skin of Clarice Starling, the pictures in the newspapers had not done her justice even in her current distress she personified strength. This admiration had never faltered; it takes an exceptional being to evade him. She was not exceptional, she had not evaded him fully, yet far too much for his liking. She had enraptured him with her strength, her inability to be corrupted by both her peers and him.

This was the calm, an interlude before the final, climatic act. He knelt down next to her, her face level with his own. Had her eyes opened then her vision would have been clouded by him, just as her mind was. He allowed his hand to hover over her hair, his fingertips gently making contact with it as he touched her fleetingly like a spectre ghosting across her. She was curled upon the sofa her knees tucked high up into her chest almost to her chin. In her hands she cradled a tell-tale serving of Jack Daniels in a small glass. He slipped the glass from her hands allowing his traitorous fingers to slip against hers in a reminiscent gesture and placed it on the coffee table behind him.

He eased himself off his knees careful not to bear any of his weight on the sofa lest he should wake her, hesitating he watched as a strand of hair threatened to fall across her sleeping eye, his hand seemed to take on its own persona as it reached out to her slipping the stray strand back behind her ear.

Risen, he took one last look at her, savouring the solitude. Tomorrow would bring a new challenge.