~Clarice (Hannah)
~*~ A Solitary Rose ~*~
Clarice Starling, robed in terrycloth, blows her hair dry while standing in front of her bedroom mirror. She closes her eyes, and her hair blows gracefully around her face. With her eyes closed, she does not notice the shadowy figure in the corner of her bedroom, but she feels a draft from the open window. She opens her eyes as she notices the draft, but the figure has disappeared. Starling, having an eerie feeling of a presence in the room, crosses cautiously towards the window and locks it. She now proceeds to finish drying her hair. When finished, she reaches into her dresser and retrieves a container of lotion that Dr. Lecter sent her after their last encounter. She often smells it and thinks of Lecter, but she has never used it. She knows that she probably will use it one day, but has not brought herself to do so yet. She inhales the scent of the lotion. "Cannibal or no, he has excellent taste," she thinks. "Interesting choice of words," she muses, realizing her accidental pun.
She has not been quite as tired or frustrated after her and Lecter's last "rendezvous." It seems that the FBI has decided to leave her alone before Lecter decides to throw another "dinner" party. She can thank Lecter for that much. At least he has kept her out of trouble for awhile. She brushes her hair and then crawls under the warm bed sheets. She does not feel like she can sleep, but she tries anyway. She tosses and turns for awhile, and then her thoughts go back to Lecter. Lately it has been more like hours that she thinks of him rather than seconds. It frightens her slightly, but in a strange way it makes her feel safe. Somehow just knowing that he is around, looking after her, makes her feel strangely secure. Lately she feels that he is very near, but she cannot explain why. She just knows. "Great, I'm starting to pick up his habits," she thinks. Somehow she knows that he will never hurt her, and she does not fear him. At least not like most people would. Just a healthy fear, like you would fear and animal. If you treat him with respect, you will be okay; but run from or antagonize him and you put your life on the line. She tosses in her bed again and then, thinking about Lecter, she drifts off to sleep. Her breathing is slow and quiet, but even.
The shadowy figure appears again, by her bedside. He is cloaked in a long black coat, and a matching fedora. The figure, that of Dr. Hannibal Lecter, approaches Starling's bed and pulls the bedspread up over her bare arms. He then pushes a strand of hair out of her face. She stirs but does not wake. The Doctor takes a white rose from his coat pocket and places it on Starling's pillow. He has seen her on several different occasions, but he muses that she has never seemed more beautiful to him than she does now, sleeping peacefully in the silence. In a flash, the Doctor is gone, and we are left with only one physical that he was even here. One, solitary rose.