A/N: This is my first foray into the fandom of The Silence of the Lambs. I'm a huge fan of the films, and am just getting into reading the novels. I think the relationship between Dr. Lecter and Clarice is so fascinating, and I hope I can do the characters justice in writing them.
A/N2: This takes place during the infamous refrigerator scene in Hannibal.
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A chill runs down Clarice Starling's spine, sending goosebumps across her barely clad body as the force of the frost wracks her limbs. Her lip trembles and she holds her breath as the coldness seeps throughout her, though it has nothing to do with the fact that the refrigerator has been wrenched open behind her. The door sends a tug across her scalp as her hair is pinned in its jaws, and its here that she knows she's trapped.
Trapped, like the helpless little creature she's fought so hard to prove she isn't.
She can sense that he's relaxed now that she's immobilized, yet the fact only continues the anxiety flowing through her veins. The breath puffs from her lips in fearful fits as her minds races, trying to come up with something, anything¸ to get away from here. From him. For it's far too much to take now. Far too much to process as millions of thoughts crash through her head, dizzying her even more than the morphine pumping throughout her body.
"Tell me Clarice, would you ever say to me, stop? If you loved me you'd stop?"
Hannibal's words are quiet and precise, like he's inquiring about a fascinating museum exhibit under examination. Clarice's eyes dart from side to side, looking for a way out of here, from the question, before they lose the fight, captured in his gaze. Trapped, like her hair. Like the memories of their twisted and complicated past.
She gasps as he inches closer to her and his piercing eyes examine the fear that has unwittingly escaped her guard. His head cocks to the side as he studies her, and she fights to stop her lip from trembling as she takes in a breath to spit the words at him. "Not in a thousand years."
And his lips curl into a smile that isn't quite sinister, yet definitely not inviting as he hears the response he knew she would give. The response they both know is inevitable. His breath is soft against her cheek, far too similar to a lover's caress, as he whispers his reply, precluding the event that should have happened all those years ago. "That's my girl."
And then his lips descend upon hers, just like she knew they would. The lips that had devoured the flesh of countless victims. The lips that had uttered Miggs's death sentence. The lips that had grinned in satisfaction when she'd recounted her childhood's most painful memory. They played across her own in a satisfied dance, much more softly than she'd anticipated. It was almost… polite. Pearl white teeth never lowered to her flesh, the devilish tongue that had tasted countless drops of blood never caressed her lips. Only his lips gently touched her as he lowered himself closer to her.
It's then that she feels the bile rise in the back of her throat, sickening her as her worst nightmare unwittingly plays out in her mind. A tear unconsciously slides down her cheek as the thought flits through her mind: "What will he do now?" Her eyes squint shut as she tries to block it all out, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she hears the sound of metal clinking together.
His lips stop their ministrations on hers, paralyzed as curiosity takes over. Lips separate and eyes travel south as they locate the source of the unknown noise.
The irony of it is all too evident as they find their wrists joined together, binding them as one like they've already been for the past ten years. Clarice rests her head back against the linoleum behind her as an appreciative smile crosses over the lips of her nemesis. She's worthy of all the credit he's given her.
And somewhere, miles away from the lake house where Clarice Starling and Hannibal Lecter have been chained together, a lonesome lamb bleats piercingly into the night, searching frantically for its way home.
-End-
A/N3: How'd I do? Reviews are love. :)
