*Disclaimers: I own nothing. Please don't sue me, I'm only 16 and have 3 sticks of big red as my entire monetary worth... *
Clarice Starling, formerly of the FBI, currently of the millions of unemployed Americans, was covered by a thick fluffy quilt, and seemingly surrounded by a cloud of pillows. She was very uncomfortable at the moment, though. It seems that no matter what she tries, she's either too hot or too cold. Her clothes - a pair of boxers, t-shirt, and socks - would normally give her quite a chill on this cool October Morning in New York, but she, the seemingly invincible Clarice Starling, had a horrible case of the cold/flu bug that was currently making it's way across the country.
At the moment, she was hot. But as soon as she would kick the quilt off, she'd start shivering with cold, and put the blanket back on. The cycle repeated itself almost tirelessly until she finally decided to keep one leg and one arm outside the quilts warm area. That way, she reasoned, at least a good half of me will be cold and the other warm. A nice balance. Clarice coughed a bit and rolled over on her side, careful to keep the one leg out of the blanket still. Just as she was about to get comfortable, she heard one of the most annoying sounds someone in her health could hear: the Phone.
Not only was her body a mess fighting the sickness, but her voice...ugh, her voice was simply horrendous. It was what one would expect when one's throat feels as if you swallowed hot coals, but, now that the phone was ringing, she couldn't really ignore it, could she? She had a private number, so it had to be someone important. Otherwise, they'd never have gotten her number.
She sighed and reached for the phone, and with one loud cough, cleared her throat and answered it.
"Starling" she said weakly.
"My, my, Clarice. You do sound a mess. Perhaps I shouldn't have called..." she could almost hear her heart stop, then start up again at a pace uncommon to a person in her state of health.
"Doctor -" she fell into a fit of lung-wrenching coughs, and slapped her chest a few times in an attempt to stop it, and then continue. "Doctor Lecter! Wh-"
"Clarice, normally I wouldn't ask such a thing of you, but please my dear, don't speak. I cannot bear to hear your voice...Hmm. Perhaps you could do well with a cup of my herbal tea. It has always seemed to alleviate any ailments I have, though it contains nothing but herbs."
"Doctor Lecter..."
"Ah, ah! What'd I say, Clarice? We mustn't talk; it'll only make your voice worsen...as if there is any level beyond that of the illness you are currently at. Now, where was I? Oh yes, the tea. It was a recipe passed down from generation to generation. My mother gave it to me, after my Father's mother gave it to her. It really is quite soothing...Ah, there's the kettle..." She heard the sound of a whistle in the background...only it didn't seem to be that far away. Clarice pulled the phone away from her ear long enough to realize it was coming from her own kitchen.
Oh...My...God...He's in my house...sh*t!
She immediately sat up, barely remembering that she was in no condition to do so, and stood on rather shaky legs. She violently shook her head, and started towards her kitchen. The dizziness overcame her, and she started to fall towards the floor- only to be caught by a pair of strong arms. Unable to resist, she fell into unconsciousness.
When Clarice awoke, she immediately noticed the pounding of her head. She groaned and opened her eyes...and froze. She wasn't in her living room anymore...indeed; she doubted she was even still in her House in New York still. She started to let out a long string of un-ladylike curses, but was stopped by another coughing fit. She closed her eyes against the pain, and rubbed her sore throat.
"Here, this ought to help a bit" Clarice hadn't heard him enter, and jumped clear off the bed. As she regained her composure, she shot a glare at him that would crumple any normal man.
"Doctor Lecter, you nearly gave me a coronary!" she cleared her throat and swallowed hard.
"Clarice, I will not tell you again to stay quiet! Your voice is absolutely nerve wracking! I cannot bear to hear it a moment longer." He said setting a tray down on the nightstand beside her. She vaguely smelled something good coming from it, but refused to take her eyes, her glaring eyes, off of Lecter.
"Come now, it's time for you to eat something." At her look, he grinned a bit. "No, no house special in it, purely chicken soup and noodles. You trust me, don't you Former Special Agent Starling?" his eyes danced as he looked at her with open playfulness.
"Don't call me that" came the hoarse whisper.
He chuckled. "Of course, my dear." He smiled a bit, and took the tray from the nightstand, placing it on her lap. "Eat up, Clarice. And you'll notice that that is some of my tea I mentioned earlier to you. Quite good, if I may say so myself."
Clarice warily took a spoonful of the soup...and immediately took another. Not only was the soup good, it was also soothing on her throat. Somehow, she doubted it was a mere coincidence. Nothing with Dr. Hannibal Lecter was a coincidence.
She finished her soup and took a sip of the tea. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She made a sour face and mouthed the words,
Very good, Doctor Lecter. Thank you.
He smiled, "You're most welcome, My Dear. Is there anything I can get you?" he asked kindly. She was most pleased that he could read her lips, but not surprised. Somehow, with Lecter, you came to expect the unexpected. She shook her head in a negative, and lay back, slightly closing her eyes.
"Then I will leave you to your rest, then. I will be here when you wake up." He smiled, and she drifted off to sleep.
Clarice walked at a leisurely pace down the New York sidewalk, smiling at those she passed, and nodding to those who smiled back. It was a pleasant day outside, and she didn't have a care in the world. She almost didn't notice when the crowd ahead of her parted, and a lone figure stood with his back away from her. He was wearing a stylish Armani suit, with a white fedora pulled down low over his eyes. She could just make out a hint of reddish hair beneath he that, when he turned to look at her, lowering his sunglasses at the same time. She gasped, and stopped dead in her tracks.
By now, the crowded New Yorkian streets were empty except for the pair. She gazed at him, and he gazed back. Suddenly, his voice cut through the silence.
"I love you, Clarice Starling"
She opened her mouth to reply, but another voice beat her to it.
"Freeze! FBI! Don't move Doctor Lecter, Starling!" she turned to see Agent, or rather Former Agent Paul Krendler pointing what appeared to be her old service pistol at Lecter; removed crown and all. Before she could make a move, he pulled the trigger.
Clarice screamed "NOOOOO!!!" and lunged at Lecter, but it was too late. She got there just in time to catch him as he fell, falling to the sidewalk with him.
Krendler, who never was anywhere near an adequate shot, had shot him in close to the same place Lecter had stabbed the pickpocket Pazzi hired to get his fingerprints.
Clarice just stared down at his paling face, tears rolling out of her eyes, down her cheeks and falling on his. He raised a hand to her face, and muttered "I Love you Clarice...Beatrice to my Dante." Then his hand fell limp and Clarice started shouting.
"No! No you can't leave me! Hannibal! Comeback! I don't want you to go! Hannibal!"
Doctor Lecter looked up from his book when Clarice started tossing and turning in her sleep. When he heard her mumbling, he immediately went to sit by her knees on the bed. He put a hand to her forehead, and took her hand in his right, and quietly watched as she played out her nightmare.
"No! No you can't leave me! Hannibal! Comeback! I don't want you to go! Hannibal!"
"Shh, shh. It's okay, I'm here. Hannibal's here; it's all going to be alright." He gently caressed her face with his left hand, as his right thumb traced circles over the back of her hand.
Slowly she awoke. And once she did, she immediately pulled him to her, her frame shaking with sobs. "Oh Hannibal! You're alive! I thought you were dead! I thought Krendler had killed you! Oh, Hannibal it was awful...I was walking down the streets of New York, and then I saw you...you told me you loved me, but before I could tell you I loved you too Paul showed up with the cap of his skull off, brain exposed. He shot you! The bastard shot you, and you bled to death in my arms! You...died in...my arms...and I couldn't...tell you...I loved you!" she couldn't talk anymore, and just clung onto him as if her dear life depended on it, drenching his sweater in her tears.
"Shh, it's okay Clarice. I'm right here. You're fine now, and Paul won't ever shoot me. He's dead, remember? It's all going to be fine, just calm down and go back to sleep." He soothed her gently.
"Don't leave me, Hannibal. Don't go..." she pulled him down next to her on the bed and wrapped his arms around her. She settled down, and her breathing eased back to normal.
"I won't go anywhere, promise." He said as she drifted off to sleep. Her last waking thought, This feels good. Safe...good...
Clarice awoke a few hours later, feeling better than she had in the last week, arguably her whole life. She yawned, stretched, and cautiously looked at the place where she vaguely remembered Doctor Lecter lying last night...but he wasn't there. She frowned slightly, and sat up. She looked around the room, and was very surprised to see him not here. Cautiously this time, she pulled the covers back and let her feet dangle on the side of the bed. Upon looking down, she noted a pair of slippers beneath her feet. Also, there was a rather comfy looking robe hanging on the door of the closet. Carefully, she stood in the slippers, and walked over to it, wrapping it around her. She was immediately comforted by the soft material, and fluffy feel. She smiled, and decided to head downstairs, where she now noticed a wonderful smell was coming from.
Slowly, so as not to upset her shaky balance, she made her way towards the stairs, not even pausing to glance at the hall telephone...or the mirror.
As she came down to the ground floor, she closed her eyes, and just let the smells overtake her. She opened her eyes to small slits and followed her nose to the source: a rather large and well-stocked kitchen. In the middle of it all, stood a very content looking Hannibal Lecter.
"Ah, Clarice. Good morning. I'm glad to see you have made it out of bed. Have a seat; breakfast will be prepared in a few minutes. How do you feel, my dear?" he smiled at her momentarily before returning his attention to the breakfast he was cooking.
She cleared her throat, unsure of how it would sound, and nodded. "Better, Doctor Lecter, much better. Thank you." At her use of his title, he chuckled.
"Come now, Clarice. Don't you think it's time for you to use my given name? I would think that after 10 years you have earned the right to."
She blushed a bit, and let a small smile play across her lips. She'd never said the name without being delusional, or without his other names behind it. "All right...Hannibal..." she smiled again, the name almost seemed at home on her tongue. She was about to say something else, when her stomach rumbled, causing her to blush.
"Right on time! Breakfast is served!" he said with a smile that would make any other human terrified. It only served to make Clarice smile a similar smile that pleased both parties.
He brought two plates to the table, and poured her and himself a cup of his by now welcome special recipe tea. After seeing that she had everything properly had at a breakfast at his table, he sat himself, and laid his napkin out over his lap. Lecter watched her do the same thing, and then hesitantly take up her fork. Clarice took a small bit of the food onto her fork, and slowly raised it to her lips. She chewed slightly, and then smiled widely.
"It's delicious! Simply delicious!" she said barely avoiding the next forkful that she had brought up to her mouth.
Lecter smiled, "I'm glad you enjoy it, Clarice."
The meal passed with silence, broken only by the sounds of forks on plates, mainly because Clarice didn't have time to talk because she was eating so fast. When she had finished, she sat back in her chair; a deeply pleased expression came over her face, one that made Lecter almost glow inside. He stood, and took the dishes to the sink.
They were silent as she stood and helped him with the dishes. He'd wash, and she'd dry and put them away. Only occasionally did she have to ask where something went, because to her ultimate amazement, they shared the same organizational process when it came to Kitchenware.
Once the dishes were all dried and put away, she followed him out into a sitting area. A slight feeling of unease had come over her as she realized it was time for quid pro quo again. He undoubtedly had quite a few questions for her, as did she. Taking a seat on the couch, she curled her feet under her, and watched as he started a small fire in the fireplace. He turned back to her, and sat in the chair directly across from her.
* A/N * Whew, I can't wait to get started on the second half...assuming, that is, that it's of any interest at all. I'll probably write it out anyway, `cause as I'm sure you know, when you have a plot bunny, it just wont leave you alone until it gets put on paper. Please let me know what you think! Criticism is welcome, as well as comments. Flames can be sent to my personal email address ^_^ * Kendal (L.T.) *
Clarice Starling, formerly of the FBI, currently of the millions of unemployed Americans, was covered by a thick fluffy quilt, and seemingly surrounded by a cloud of pillows. She was very uncomfortable at the moment, though. It seems that no matter what she tries, she's either too hot or too cold. Her clothes - a pair of boxers, t-shirt, and socks - would normally give her quite a chill on this cool October Morning in New York, but she, the seemingly invincible Clarice Starling, had a horrible case of the cold/flu bug that was currently making it's way across the country.
At the moment, she was hot. But as soon as she would kick the quilt off, she'd start shivering with cold, and put the blanket back on. The cycle repeated itself almost tirelessly until she finally decided to keep one leg and one arm outside the quilts warm area. That way, she reasoned, at least a good half of me will be cold and the other warm. A nice balance. Clarice coughed a bit and rolled over on her side, careful to keep the one leg out of the blanket still. Just as she was about to get comfortable, she heard one of the most annoying sounds someone in her health could hear: the Phone.
Not only was her body a mess fighting the sickness, but her voice...ugh, her voice was simply horrendous. It was what one would expect when one's throat feels as if you swallowed hot coals, but, now that the phone was ringing, she couldn't really ignore it, could she? She had a private number, so it had to be someone important. Otherwise, they'd never have gotten her number.
She sighed and reached for the phone, and with one loud cough, cleared her throat and answered it.
"Starling" she said weakly.
"My, my, Clarice. You do sound a mess. Perhaps I shouldn't have called..." she could almost hear her heart stop, then start up again at a pace uncommon to a person in her state of health.
"Doctor -" she fell into a fit of lung-wrenching coughs, and slapped her chest a few times in an attempt to stop it, and then continue. "Doctor Lecter! Wh-"
"Clarice, normally I wouldn't ask such a thing of you, but please my dear, don't speak. I cannot bear to hear your voice...Hmm. Perhaps you could do well with a cup of my herbal tea. It has always seemed to alleviate any ailments I have, though it contains nothing but herbs."
"Doctor Lecter..."
"Ah, ah! What'd I say, Clarice? We mustn't talk; it'll only make your voice worsen...as if there is any level beyond that of the illness you are currently at. Now, where was I? Oh yes, the tea. It was a recipe passed down from generation to generation. My mother gave it to me, after my Father's mother gave it to her. It really is quite soothing...Ah, there's the kettle..." She heard the sound of a whistle in the background...only it didn't seem to be that far away. Clarice pulled the phone away from her ear long enough to realize it was coming from her own kitchen.
Oh...My...God...He's in my house...sh*t!
She immediately sat up, barely remembering that she was in no condition to do so, and stood on rather shaky legs. She violently shook her head, and started towards her kitchen. The dizziness overcame her, and she started to fall towards the floor- only to be caught by a pair of strong arms. Unable to resist, she fell into unconsciousness.
When Clarice awoke, she immediately noticed the pounding of her head. She groaned and opened her eyes...and froze. She wasn't in her living room anymore...indeed; she doubted she was even still in her House in New York still. She started to let out a long string of un-ladylike curses, but was stopped by another coughing fit. She closed her eyes against the pain, and rubbed her sore throat.
"Here, this ought to help a bit" Clarice hadn't heard him enter, and jumped clear off the bed. As she regained her composure, she shot a glare at him that would crumple any normal man.
"Doctor Lecter, you nearly gave me a coronary!" she cleared her throat and swallowed hard.
"Clarice, I will not tell you again to stay quiet! Your voice is absolutely nerve wracking! I cannot bear to hear it a moment longer." He said setting a tray down on the nightstand beside her. She vaguely smelled something good coming from it, but refused to take her eyes, her glaring eyes, off of Lecter.
"Come now, it's time for you to eat something." At her look, he grinned a bit. "No, no house special in it, purely chicken soup and noodles. You trust me, don't you Former Special Agent Starling?" his eyes danced as he looked at her with open playfulness.
"Don't call me that" came the hoarse whisper.
He chuckled. "Of course, my dear." He smiled a bit, and took the tray from the nightstand, placing it on her lap. "Eat up, Clarice. And you'll notice that that is some of my tea I mentioned earlier to you. Quite good, if I may say so myself."
Clarice warily took a spoonful of the soup...and immediately took another. Not only was the soup good, it was also soothing on her throat. Somehow, she doubted it was a mere coincidence. Nothing with Dr. Hannibal Lecter was a coincidence.
She finished her soup and took a sip of the tea. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She made a sour face and mouthed the words,
Very good, Doctor Lecter. Thank you.
He smiled, "You're most welcome, My Dear. Is there anything I can get you?" he asked kindly. She was most pleased that he could read her lips, but not surprised. Somehow, with Lecter, you came to expect the unexpected. She shook her head in a negative, and lay back, slightly closing her eyes.
"Then I will leave you to your rest, then. I will be here when you wake up." He smiled, and she drifted off to sleep.
Clarice walked at a leisurely pace down the New York sidewalk, smiling at those she passed, and nodding to those who smiled back. It was a pleasant day outside, and she didn't have a care in the world. She almost didn't notice when the crowd ahead of her parted, and a lone figure stood with his back away from her. He was wearing a stylish Armani suit, with a white fedora pulled down low over his eyes. She could just make out a hint of reddish hair beneath he that, when he turned to look at her, lowering his sunglasses at the same time. She gasped, and stopped dead in her tracks.
By now, the crowded New Yorkian streets were empty except for the pair. She gazed at him, and he gazed back. Suddenly, his voice cut through the silence.
"I love you, Clarice Starling"
She opened her mouth to reply, but another voice beat her to it.
"Freeze! FBI! Don't move Doctor Lecter, Starling!" she turned to see Agent, or rather Former Agent Paul Krendler pointing what appeared to be her old service pistol at Lecter; removed crown and all. Before she could make a move, he pulled the trigger.
Clarice screamed "NOOOOO!!!" and lunged at Lecter, but it was too late. She got there just in time to catch him as he fell, falling to the sidewalk with him.
Krendler, who never was anywhere near an adequate shot, had shot him in close to the same place Lecter had stabbed the pickpocket Pazzi hired to get his fingerprints.
Clarice just stared down at his paling face, tears rolling out of her eyes, down her cheeks and falling on his. He raised a hand to her face, and muttered "I Love you Clarice...Beatrice to my Dante." Then his hand fell limp and Clarice started shouting.
"No! No you can't leave me! Hannibal! Comeback! I don't want you to go! Hannibal!"
Doctor Lecter looked up from his book when Clarice started tossing and turning in her sleep. When he heard her mumbling, he immediately went to sit by her knees on the bed. He put a hand to her forehead, and took her hand in his right, and quietly watched as she played out her nightmare.
"No! No you can't leave me! Hannibal! Comeback! I don't want you to go! Hannibal!"
"Shh, shh. It's okay, I'm here. Hannibal's here; it's all going to be alright." He gently caressed her face with his left hand, as his right thumb traced circles over the back of her hand.
Slowly she awoke. And once she did, she immediately pulled him to her, her frame shaking with sobs. "Oh Hannibal! You're alive! I thought you were dead! I thought Krendler had killed you! Oh, Hannibal it was awful...I was walking down the streets of New York, and then I saw you...you told me you loved me, but before I could tell you I loved you too Paul showed up with the cap of his skull off, brain exposed. He shot you! The bastard shot you, and you bled to death in my arms! You...died in...my arms...and I couldn't...tell you...I loved you!" she couldn't talk anymore, and just clung onto him as if her dear life depended on it, drenching his sweater in her tears.
"Shh, it's okay Clarice. I'm right here. You're fine now, and Paul won't ever shoot me. He's dead, remember? It's all going to be fine, just calm down and go back to sleep." He soothed her gently.
"Don't leave me, Hannibal. Don't go..." she pulled him down next to her on the bed and wrapped his arms around her. She settled down, and her breathing eased back to normal.
"I won't go anywhere, promise." He said as she drifted off to sleep. Her last waking thought, This feels good. Safe...good...
Clarice awoke a few hours later, feeling better than she had in the last week, arguably her whole life. She yawned, stretched, and cautiously looked at the place where she vaguely remembered Doctor Lecter lying last night...but he wasn't there. She frowned slightly, and sat up. She looked around the room, and was very surprised to see him not here. Cautiously this time, she pulled the covers back and let her feet dangle on the side of the bed. Upon looking down, she noted a pair of slippers beneath her feet. Also, there was a rather comfy looking robe hanging on the door of the closet. Carefully, she stood in the slippers, and walked over to it, wrapping it around her. She was immediately comforted by the soft material, and fluffy feel. She smiled, and decided to head downstairs, where she now noticed a wonderful smell was coming from.
Slowly, so as not to upset her shaky balance, she made her way towards the stairs, not even pausing to glance at the hall telephone...or the mirror.
As she came down to the ground floor, she closed her eyes, and just let the smells overtake her. She opened her eyes to small slits and followed her nose to the source: a rather large and well-stocked kitchen. In the middle of it all, stood a very content looking Hannibal Lecter.
"Ah, Clarice. Good morning. I'm glad to see you have made it out of bed. Have a seat; breakfast will be prepared in a few minutes. How do you feel, my dear?" he smiled at her momentarily before returning his attention to the breakfast he was cooking.
She cleared her throat, unsure of how it would sound, and nodded. "Better, Doctor Lecter, much better. Thank you." At her use of his title, he chuckled.
"Come now, Clarice. Don't you think it's time for you to use my given name? I would think that after 10 years you have earned the right to."
She blushed a bit, and let a small smile play across her lips. She'd never said the name without being delusional, or without his other names behind it. "All right...Hannibal..." she smiled again, the name almost seemed at home on her tongue. She was about to say something else, when her stomach rumbled, causing her to blush.
"Right on time! Breakfast is served!" he said with a smile that would make any other human terrified. It only served to make Clarice smile a similar smile that pleased both parties.
He brought two plates to the table, and poured her and himself a cup of his by now welcome special recipe tea. After seeing that she had everything properly had at a breakfast at his table, he sat himself, and laid his napkin out over his lap. Lecter watched her do the same thing, and then hesitantly take up her fork. Clarice took a small bit of the food onto her fork, and slowly raised it to her lips. She chewed slightly, and then smiled widely.
"It's delicious! Simply delicious!" she said barely avoiding the next forkful that she had brought up to her mouth.
Lecter smiled, "I'm glad you enjoy it, Clarice."
The meal passed with silence, broken only by the sounds of forks on plates, mainly because Clarice didn't have time to talk because she was eating so fast. When she had finished, she sat back in her chair; a deeply pleased expression came over her face, one that made Lecter almost glow inside. He stood, and took the dishes to the sink.
They were silent as she stood and helped him with the dishes. He'd wash, and she'd dry and put them away. Only occasionally did she have to ask where something went, because to her ultimate amazement, they shared the same organizational process when it came to Kitchenware.
Once the dishes were all dried and put away, she followed him out into a sitting area. A slight feeling of unease had come over her as she realized it was time for quid pro quo again. He undoubtedly had quite a few questions for her, as did she. Taking a seat on the couch, she curled her feet under her, and watched as he started a small fire in the fireplace. He turned back to her, and sat in the chair directly across from her.
* A/N * Whew, I can't wait to get started on the second half...assuming, that is, that it's of any interest at all. I'll probably write it out anyway, `cause as I'm sure you know, when you have a plot bunny, it just wont leave you alone until it gets put on paper. Please let me know what you think! Criticism is welcome, as well as comments. Flames can be sent to my personal email address ^_^ * Kendal (L.T.) *