Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters portrayed herein, I'm simply
borrowing them for a wee while ;). Please don't sue; you'll make me cry.
Thanks. (
A/n: Hey, hey, hey people! Ok, a new one. I know I have other fic's unfinished and I'm a bad, bad, bad person for not finishing them instead of writing this but my muse has a mind of it's own. There's no telling it. Thanks go to Saavik, Jane and LoT.Ok, on with the story.
"Starling in position"
She couldn't stop the agitation from slipping into her voice above the chattering of her teeth. This was the fourth time in only fifty seven minutes she had confirmed her whereabouts, and she was starting to believe her original thought that her peers where simply taunting her. Glancing around the corner she peered through the thin rain to the end of the street, or more precisely 234 Willburn Avenue. Pulling her head back, she returned to the position she had been standing in now for over an hour, rubbing her hands together in a futile attempt to warm them. The night was unusually cold, and the rain that had long ago soaked through her simple clothes didn't look like it was going to halt any time soon. The wall, which she had been leaning against, was rough and pebbled, and the large puddle she was standing in was unavoidable in the cramped alcove. Clarice had never been so miserable.
234 Willburn Avenue supposedly sheltered the latest bad blip on the F.B.I's radar. A man who had murdered at least 2 woman, and according to the profilers at the office, wasn't going to stop at that. Clarice fixed her wondering gaze on the swimming point of light reflected on the puddle at her feet to try and reign in her thoughts. The plan was a fairly simple one as plans go. The tip off came and the wheels were set in motion almost immediately, with her name on the tip of their tongues just as quickly. The inevitable meeting was called with the big boys, the only whispered piece of advice in her ear was to try not fuck this one up. It came as little surprise, and slightly ironic that the only advice offered was spat vehemently through gritted teeth, by the group of people she had spent her life desperately trying to mimic. It was expected now.
" We have movement people. Let's look lively."
Snapping out of her thoughts, she held the earpiece to her ear with one hand and drew her .45 with the other. Peeking around the corner once more she caught the tail end of the black sedan that crept almost silently down the otherwise deserted street. The first wave, Agent's Dyers and Richmond. Pressing her soaked back into the rough grain of the wall she silently walked the length of the alley, skipping across to the opposite side and stopping dead at the corner. Glancing around her eyes settled on the red taillights of the sedan, the two pinpoints of light momentarily throwing images of the previous months to her minds eye. Shaking the thoughts from her head with an exasperated sigh, she waited for the second wave to move into her field of vision. Five agents made up the entire team. Two agents in the car, a further two in the house across the street, and of course herself. She was taking the tail end, under strict orders to stick to the sketchy plan that had been made only hours before.
" Dyer, Richmond, move.what the fu."
The earpiece whined with static, causing her to look around the corner once again, her eyes looking for movement in or around the targeted area. The black sedan sat unmoved, the taillights still glowing unnaturally in the darkness, the only noise to be heard apart from her own barley controlled breathing was the gentle thrum of the cold rain that fell all around her. Complete radio silence from all agents had been stipulated before they had even left the office.
" Parker come in"
Static.
" Parker this is Starling come in"
Silence
It was funny that the only time in her life when silence was eventually granted was at a time when it wasn't welcome.
Leaning her head heavily on the wall at her back, she stopped to evaluate her options. There weren't many.
" Parker, what the fuck's happening"
The thought that it was merely an attempt to shake her up had long since passed and was replaced with an all too familiar feeling of dread. Bringing her .45 up she quickly checked her magazine and held the pistol tightly to her thigh. Taking two deep shuddering breaths she slipped around the corner and into the street.
The black sedan melted into the shadows around it making it hard to see anything other than it's basic outline. Keeping to the shadows she hesitantly made her approach, her ears picking up the sound of rain hitting the metal of the slowly cooling bonnet. Her eyes darted quickly from the car to the house and back, her hands gripping the firearm with sweaty palms. Looking to the back windshield she tried to see through to the drivers seat, looking for.well anything. Stopping her approach when she was within four foot of the car she tilted her head to see inside the passenger window. The car was empty.
" Dyers come in"
Silence
The ripple of fear that coursed through her was not new to her, it was familiar and it was real. Glancing sideways to the house were Parker and Stewart were supposed to be she ran possibilities through her head, evaluating the scene and trying to come up with the best possible solution. Clarice's eyes suddenly shined a little brighter and she quickly reached into the back pocket of her grey combat trousers her hand looking for and finding the small black mobile phone. Pulling it out quickly she flipped it open and waited for the small screen to turn green. And she waited. And she waited. Hitting the side of the small contraption several times didn't seem to improve it's condition and she furiously threw it into the gutter at the side of the pavement. So much for calling for backup she thought miserably. Slinking back to the wall she forced her mind into action, trying to come up with reasons for what was happening. There were two that she could think of. One, her four fellow agents had decided to cut her out all together and were in the process of searching the house themselves, either ignoring her attempts at radio contact or had simply turned her off. Or two, the hunted had become the hunter and eliminated the people who were there to take him in. As much as she would have liked to believe her first assessment she knew somewhere deep inside that the second possible scenario was probably closer to the truth. The question was.what was she going to do about it. Closing her eyes she released a groan. The rain suddenly becoming heavier as if to sympathise with her mood. She already knew what had to be done, it was an unwritten rule that you never left a man behind, even if said men were her worst enemy at the moment. Setting her jaw she gulped in a breath and held it, her body moving quietly across the street to the house that was sure to hold at least a few surprises. As she deftly crossed the street she could hear a ringing from a distance, which made her crouch low against the house's wooden fence, her eyes seeking and finding no origin for the disturbing sound. Something wasn't right, the ringing was getting louder and a feeling of sheer fear crept over her body. Clarice tried to push herself further into the shadows to hide from the feeling of dread that seemed to cling to the air around her, the ringing was relentless and only seemed to get louder the more she tried to hide from it........
* * * *
It took a few moments for Clarice to realise that she was sitting at the edge of her bed, her clothing stuck horribly to her trembling body. Still groggy she was in a dream like state, her mind consumed with images of the very realistic dream she had just awoken from. It took her even longer to realise that the shrill sound that had rescued her from yet another nightmare was the phone that sat on her bedside cabinet. Staring at it for endless moments she eventually reached a shaking hand to the receiver and slowly picked it up. Pressing it to her ear, she didn't trust her voice to speak and simply waited for the caller to identify themselves, knowing instinctively that it was a call she had no interest in receiving.
" Agent Starling my name is Andrew Woodburn, I'm calling on behalf of the National Inquirer, and my office is prepared to pay you a handsome sum of mo."
Slamming the receiver back into its cradle, Clarice stood on shaky legs and made her way to the bathroom, willing her mind to repress yet again the memory of that day.
It had been Four days. In those short days Clarice hadn't stepped foot out of her house, hadn't accepted any visitors, had barley spoken to the people that mattered and had slept approximately ten hours out of the four nights she had attempted. Sitting on the armchair that used to bring her comfort she stared blankly at the TV, the light from which was casting an eerie glow across the otherwise dark room. The closed curtains that served to keep both the light and the reporters from getting access to her had somehow shifted, causing a thin crack of light to enter the musty room, and she sat hypnotised by the play of dust as it moved serenely in and out of the beam.
RRRRRRRRRRIIINNNNGGGGG Clarice jumped; causing the cup of coffee that had long ago gone cold to spill across her dressing gown and chair. Standing slowly she walked out into the hall, the dark figure of someone standing behind her door given nothing but a passing glance as she made her way to the kitchen.
RRRRRRRRRIIINNGGGGGGGGG
Clarice turned the faucet on full spray to drown out the noise of incessant ringing, the sound itself enough to bring back memory's of her dream from the night before.
" Clarice! It's Ardelia open the door!"
Clarice paused slightly in her actions when she heard the familiar voice of her friend. She could also hear the sounds of reporters and cameras as they asked and flashed around her. Returning to the task at hand she continued to rinse the cloth, occasionally running it over her light blue dressing gown.
" Clarice, it's Ardelia honey, c'mon, open the door!"
Walking slowly back to the living room she sat stiffly on the armchair again, her face scrunched up in pain momentarily as she rested her weary body. Resting her head on the high back of the chair, she pulled her gown tighter around her thinning frame, her eyes blinking heavily as she fought the pull of sleep.
She wasn't sure how long she had sat there, but the beam of light that had held her attention had slowly dwindled and the doorbell that had had about as much rest as she, was finally silent. Glancing around the cluttered living room her eyes fell on the stack of newspapers that sat untouched on the table. Moving slowly she reached a hand slowly for the table, grasping the first of the pile and sitting back in the chair.
' CLARICE STARLING IN SHOCK FBI BLUNDER'
The thick black headline stood out in the dim room, screaming for attention, which it gladly received in the form of a pair of quickly filing eyes. Taking a deep breath she let her eyes roam down to the finer print, to the details that she was missing. They were calling it selective amnesia. Temporary memory loss caused by a traumatic and/or stressful event. She had memories though. Clarice could remember the F.B.I doctor's voice as he had explained the condition. Could remember his breath as it washed over her face making her duck her head to avoid gagging. Could remember his sage words of advice as he recommended seeing the company psychologist to retrieve said memories. Could remember the forced smile as she politely refused, and the scowl as she told him were he could stick his sage words of advice before she walked unaided to a waiting cab.
' In what should have been a routine operation for the F.B.I, the apprehension and capture of the recent serial killer who we now know as ' Richard Bradley', turned into the most disastrous blood bath of the beaureu's history. In the centre of it all is Special agent Clarice Starling, who is at this time housebound by the tragic events. A close friend of Agent Starling was available for interview last night and told us this,
' Clarice is traumatised by this. I've never seen her like this before. I don't think she'll ever be the same woman again.'
The F.B.I are unwilling to comment at the moment, but it has been said that Agent Starling is refusing treatment from the Bureau, and has not given a date for her supposed return to active duty. The details of the night in question are sketchy, but what we have heard is shocking. Four agents killed.'
Clarice threw the newspaper as far as she could, the silent sobs that wracked her body causing pain in more ways than one. Pulling herself to a stooped position she made her way towards the kitchen, her feet slightly dragging as her body screamed for rest. The tears continued, the wetness causing her face to itch, but she didn't have the energy to do so. Gripping the doorframe she leaned heavily on it, her eyes slightly blurring as the strong medication began to wear off. A cold sweat crept over her back, causing her to shiver as she staggered to the medicine cupboard above the worktop. Taking a few deep trembling breaths she reached a hand to open the door, pulling the small box so it crashed on the worktop, spilling it's contents over the floor. Cursing under her breath she slipped down to retrieve the painkillers, her hand trembling uncontrollably as she tried to pick them up. Grasping them tightly she attempted to stand, a wave of dizziness causing her legs to buckle under her. As she watched the floor come towards her in slow motion she closed her eyes, it was the last thing she remembered.
* * * * * *
Warm. She was warm. There was no pain. Slowly blinking her eyes open she could see she was in a large bed, in a bedroom, with only a soft lamp to light the room. A surge of panic filled her as she realised it wasn't her room, it wasn't her bed. She was about to push the covers off when a soft, slightly metallic voice sounded from the other side of the room.
" Lay still Clarice, you are in no danger here."
Was this another dream?
" Dr Lecte."
She found her voice sounding blurry to her ears; her tongue ran around her dry mouth before she attempted to speak again.
" Dr Lecter?"
Her voice was slightly slurred and it caused another wave of panic to wash over her. Throwing the covers back with one arm she rolled to the side, swinging her legs over the side and quickly standing. When a wave of dizziness and pain overwhelmed her she slumped back to the bed, a firm hand suddenly on her arm. She desperately tried to pull her arm away, a sense of terror overcoming her and she began to shout.
" No!! Don't!! Let me go!!! Don't touch me!! Don't touch me!! Don't hurt me!!"
Dr Lecter immediately let go and took a large step back, his hands coming up, open palmed to show he meant no harm. He watched as Clarice shrank back onto the bed, her arms moving around her legs. This disturbed him. What had happened to her? Not moving any closer he adjusted his voice to one he would use on patients, children or even a wounded animal.
" Clarice, try to clam down. I am not going to hurt you. I have given you drugs to calm you and take away any discomfort you have been feeling, nothing more. You are in a safe place where no one will try to harm you or hound you."
Clarice slowly brought her eyes up to meet the intense stare that was centred on her. She was confused, her mind seemed slow and sluggish, and she couldn't remember getting here. Yet another memory lost she thought. The silence in the room was beginning to get uncomfortable, and he must have felt it too.
" How do you feel?" he asked quietly, taking a small step towards the bed.
Clarice watched as he stepped closer, she could feel the fog slowly lifting from her brain.
" Dr Lecter?" She whispered, her head forming a well-worn crease.
He watched as she tried to remember what had happened.
" Kitchen. I was in the kitchen. I needed the painkillers and.dizzy, I felt sore and dizzy and I was trying to reach them and." she paused.
" I found you on the kitchen floor. You had passed out. I brought you here in my car and sedated you. You were in some discomfort. Your body was exhausted and needed rest." He spoke gently, trying to keep his explanation simple and minus some details he didn't think she needed to hear.
" Where is here?" she asked, her brain beginning to function normally again.
"Not far." He answered simply.
Silence fell over the room once more as she sat and contemplated what had happened. She looked up quickly when she heard him shift, her eyes wide and muscles tense. He was moving slowly away from her, his hand reaching for something behind him, which she quickly registered as a chair. He moved slightly closer to the bed than he had last time and placed the chair down, sitting slowly down and clasping his hands in front of him. They sat looking at each other for minutes.
" What is my position here Dr Lecter?" she asked eventually, glad that some strength had returned to her voice.
He smiled, his head tilting slightly as he answered the question he knew was coming eventually. He was pleased she was asking such questions.
" You are free to go whenever you please Clarice, you are not a prisoner. Saying that, it may be wise to leave your escape until the medication I administed wears off a little more, I wouldn't want to be responsible for you falling and knocking yourself out."
Silence again.
" Do you require anything?" he asked graciously, his eyes never leaving her.
She broke eye contact for the first time, staring at the hands that were folded around her bent legs.
" I suppose a nice .45 and a set of handcuffs are out of the question?"
He smiled, a full smile that seemed to be contagious as one soon appeared on her face too. It was the first smile she could remember having in a long time. That thought alone soon wiped it off.
" I was thinking more along the lines of tea, something to eat perhaps." He replied, watching as her face fell once more, but not from his comment.
Silence
Her eyes were focused on something across the room, her hands nervously playing with each other. He could see she was lost in thought, her eyes slightly glazed and he could smell a trickle of fear once again. He knew it wasn't from his presence. When she eventually spoke, her voice seemed smaller, quieter, and almost hesitant.
" You know what happened?" she almost whispered, her eyes still locked elsewhere, unblinking, glassy.
He nodded slowly, his eyes watching for the slightest signs, his ears picking up the slight elevation in her breathing.
" I know only what they choose to print in the papers, and what I have seen with my own eyes." He answered carefully.
Clarice moved her gaze slowly to his own, a hand leaving its place and slowly trailing up to the large dark bruise that covered the side of her jaw. It was one of many, the only one visible when she wore long sleeves and trousers. Dr Lecter sat silently, his face schooled to appear calm and unthreatening, his voice soft and gentle. On the inside it was the complete opposite. What he had told her was the truth, he knew no more on what had happened that the man across the street, but he could see that whatever had happened, had disturbed her deeply. The papers had said she had selective amnesia. It was probably the only thing they had gotten right. When he had made the decision to pay her a visit, he had expected many things but not this. Where was her anger? Her spirit? What he saw sitting in front of him was a shadow of the Clarice Starling he had known for more than a decade. When he had eventually made it into her house un-noticed, a feat in itself considering the masses of media camped in her front lawn, he had found her as he said he had, lying on the kitchen floor, an almost empty packet of pain-killers in her hand. The only aspect he had concealed from her was the fact that she was not un-conscious. She was certainly delirious and in pain, when he had reached down and briefly examined her she had tried to bat him away, even tried to bite him. The marks he was able to see through her struggles had left him with nothing but anger. Whoever had done this to her had used not only his fists, but also his own weapon of choice.
" How is your hand?"
Snapping from his thoughts, he gently smiled once more, holding his hand up to show her the repaired thumb. He saw a flash of relief behind her eyes and smiled tightly, not willing to show any more emotion than was necessary. The last thing she needed was more guilt to add to the mountain of other emotions she was already struggling with.
Nodding once she averted her eyes once more and fixed them on the bright white sheet that she had wrapped around her legs.
There was a comfortable silence for more than twenty minutes before something caught his eye. A wince. The tiniest flash of pain across her face, and it was gone.
" Are you in pain Clarice?" he asked smoothly, watching her jump and the flash of discomfort that followed.
She watched as he slowly stood and walked to the low table that was positioned on the far wall. When he turned to face her he had a glass of water and a closed fist. He made his approach slowly, his steps measured and calculated. She could feel the hairs on her arms stand straight as he reached the foot of the bed and the tiny tendril of fear that shimmied up her spine. She tried to push the feelings away, she knew he wasn't going to hurt her, but they remained none the less. Slowing his approach even more, he made his way around the bed, placing the glass of water on the neat bedside table and holding out his hand. There were two small white tablets in the centre.
He could hear her breathing, could smell the fear from her as she stared at his open palm. He watched the muscles flex on her arm as she attempted to lift it, saw the tremble in her hand when she eventually did, felt the tickle of fingertips as she quickly retrieved the tablets. He made no attempt to back off once the tablets where in her hand.
"What are these?" she whispered, looking down to her open hand.
"Simple pain-killers. Nothing more than your own physician would prescribe."
He picked up the glass of water once more and held it out for her, watching as she slowly swallowed both tablets, the soft light in the room highlighting a thin sheen of sweat across her forehead. She was in obvious distress.
" Clarice I may be able to help you further if you detail your injury's to me." He said calmly, watching the panicked look cross her features.
" I'll be fine once the pain-killers kick in." she whispered, her face slightly contorting in silent agony.
" No I don't think you will be. Tell me your diagnosis Clarice." He asked a little more forcefully.
He watched the internal battle that played across her face, the way her fist gripped the sheet's before she moved to speak.
" I can't remember what the doctor's said. It was just after..they didn't."
" It's ok. Just tell me what you know" he spoke gently, glad that she hadn't noticed him sitting at the edge of the bed.
" I, I, I have a. .Deep cut in my back. About 4 inches. It's stitched. There's another on my right thigh, not as big. I have bruising." her voice turned thick with emotion and he watched her hands as they began to shake.
"You should be in hospital Clarice." He stated flatly, shifting slightly to silently reach under the bed.
" I didn't want to. There were reporters and police and F.B.I.." she said, her voice trembling
"Clarice I need to look at those cuts." He stated with a voice that was firm yet understanding. He could see the negative shake of the head before he even finished speaking. He saw the widening of her eyes as he lifted his medical bag into view.
" No" she stated flatly, her head still shaking from side to side.
" Clarice has anyone examined you since you left the hospital?" a negative shake of the head.
" No I thought not." He said with a heavy sigh.
" Those cuts need attention Clarice. They need cleaned and dressed to avoid any infection, if it hasn't occurred already. I know you're uncomfortable with any examination, more so with me doing it, but since you seem unwilling to go anywhere else I don't see many options."
He could see his words having the desired effect and began preparations.
* * * * * * * * * *
Pulling off his gloves he quickly disposed of them and turned to Clarice with a gentle smile. She sat in the middle of the large bed with the white sheet tucked firmly around her. There was nothing said as he sat once more on the wooden chair, watching as the red flush slowly drained from her face. They both knew he understood better what had happened now he had examined her but neither moved to speak of it. He thought carefully before asking his next question.
" What do you remember?"
Clarice's eyes shot to his with a clear signal of 'don't'. He ignored it.
" What do you remember?" he asked with a little more force.
" I don't want to talk about it Dr Lecter." She mumbled, her eyes wide and panicked.
" You were sent to capture the supposed serial killer Richard Bradley. There were three other agents with you."
"Four" she stated. He allowed himself an inward smile. He had started her off.
" Agents Dyers, Parker, Richmond and Stewart. Minimal crew."
" And you were lying in wait."
" It was a basic operation. Two agents in observation, also used for back up, three agents stationed in the red zone, waiting for orders to strike. I was the primary backup for the two agents in the first wave, and it was made clear to me in not so many pleasant words that I was to play a minimal part in the apprehension before we left the field office."
She paused for breath, her eyes focussed somewhere deep within the room, her eyes flashing as she relived the night.
" I played the part they wanted me to play. I didn't make a fuss, there wasn't much point.I heard the order for the first wave to go.I saw the sedan roll down the street.it was so cold, so cold."
Dr lecter heard her West Virginian accent become more pronounced as she spoke, and her last words where a replica of the words she had spoken to him in Memphis.
" What happened next Clarice?"
Her eyes where tearing up as she spoke, her voice trembling and hitching.
" There was an awful silence. I couldn't get any response on voice, it was just.. silent. I knew something was wrong right away; even those bastards wouldn't pull a stunt like that on that operation. I approached the sedan, it was empty. No sign of struggle or.just empty. I tried voice again but there was just the static."
He could see she was slipping into her memory, the small twitches and glassy eyes gave him the knowledge that she was reliving the experience.
" I made the decision to investigate the house.....
Chapter 2 will be up shortly hopefully. Let me know what you think of this so far will you? Cheers cherubs xxxxxxx
A/n: Hey, hey, hey people! Ok, a new one. I know I have other fic's unfinished and I'm a bad, bad, bad person for not finishing them instead of writing this but my muse has a mind of it's own. There's no telling it. Thanks go to Saavik, Jane and LoT.Ok, on with the story.
"Starling in position"
She couldn't stop the agitation from slipping into her voice above the chattering of her teeth. This was the fourth time in only fifty seven minutes she had confirmed her whereabouts, and she was starting to believe her original thought that her peers where simply taunting her. Glancing around the corner she peered through the thin rain to the end of the street, or more precisely 234 Willburn Avenue. Pulling her head back, she returned to the position she had been standing in now for over an hour, rubbing her hands together in a futile attempt to warm them. The night was unusually cold, and the rain that had long ago soaked through her simple clothes didn't look like it was going to halt any time soon. The wall, which she had been leaning against, was rough and pebbled, and the large puddle she was standing in was unavoidable in the cramped alcove. Clarice had never been so miserable.
234 Willburn Avenue supposedly sheltered the latest bad blip on the F.B.I's radar. A man who had murdered at least 2 woman, and according to the profilers at the office, wasn't going to stop at that. Clarice fixed her wondering gaze on the swimming point of light reflected on the puddle at her feet to try and reign in her thoughts. The plan was a fairly simple one as plans go. The tip off came and the wheels were set in motion almost immediately, with her name on the tip of their tongues just as quickly. The inevitable meeting was called with the big boys, the only whispered piece of advice in her ear was to try not fuck this one up. It came as little surprise, and slightly ironic that the only advice offered was spat vehemently through gritted teeth, by the group of people she had spent her life desperately trying to mimic. It was expected now.
" We have movement people. Let's look lively."
Snapping out of her thoughts, she held the earpiece to her ear with one hand and drew her .45 with the other. Peeking around the corner once more she caught the tail end of the black sedan that crept almost silently down the otherwise deserted street. The first wave, Agent's Dyers and Richmond. Pressing her soaked back into the rough grain of the wall she silently walked the length of the alley, skipping across to the opposite side and stopping dead at the corner. Glancing around her eyes settled on the red taillights of the sedan, the two pinpoints of light momentarily throwing images of the previous months to her minds eye. Shaking the thoughts from her head with an exasperated sigh, she waited for the second wave to move into her field of vision. Five agents made up the entire team. Two agents in the car, a further two in the house across the street, and of course herself. She was taking the tail end, under strict orders to stick to the sketchy plan that had been made only hours before.
" Dyer, Richmond, move.what the fu."
The earpiece whined with static, causing her to look around the corner once again, her eyes looking for movement in or around the targeted area. The black sedan sat unmoved, the taillights still glowing unnaturally in the darkness, the only noise to be heard apart from her own barley controlled breathing was the gentle thrum of the cold rain that fell all around her. Complete radio silence from all agents had been stipulated before they had even left the office.
" Parker come in"
Static.
" Parker this is Starling come in"
Silence
It was funny that the only time in her life when silence was eventually granted was at a time when it wasn't welcome.
Leaning her head heavily on the wall at her back, she stopped to evaluate her options. There weren't many.
" Parker, what the fuck's happening"
The thought that it was merely an attempt to shake her up had long since passed and was replaced with an all too familiar feeling of dread. Bringing her .45 up she quickly checked her magazine and held the pistol tightly to her thigh. Taking two deep shuddering breaths she slipped around the corner and into the street.
The black sedan melted into the shadows around it making it hard to see anything other than it's basic outline. Keeping to the shadows she hesitantly made her approach, her ears picking up the sound of rain hitting the metal of the slowly cooling bonnet. Her eyes darted quickly from the car to the house and back, her hands gripping the firearm with sweaty palms. Looking to the back windshield she tried to see through to the drivers seat, looking for.well anything. Stopping her approach when she was within four foot of the car she tilted her head to see inside the passenger window. The car was empty.
" Dyers come in"
Silence
The ripple of fear that coursed through her was not new to her, it was familiar and it was real. Glancing sideways to the house were Parker and Stewart were supposed to be she ran possibilities through her head, evaluating the scene and trying to come up with the best possible solution. Clarice's eyes suddenly shined a little brighter and she quickly reached into the back pocket of her grey combat trousers her hand looking for and finding the small black mobile phone. Pulling it out quickly she flipped it open and waited for the small screen to turn green. And she waited. And she waited. Hitting the side of the small contraption several times didn't seem to improve it's condition and she furiously threw it into the gutter at the side of the pavement. So much for calling for backup she thought miserably. Slinking back to the wall she forced her mind into action, trying to come up with reasons for what was happening. There were two that she could think of. One, her four fellow agents had decided to cut her out all together and were in the process of searching the house themselves, either ignoring her attempts at radio contact or had simply turned her off. Or two, the hunted had become the hunter and eliminated the people who were there to take him in. As much as she would have liked to believe her first assessment she knew somewhere deep inside that the second possible scenario was probably closer to the truth. The question was.what was she going to do about it. Closing her eyes she released a groan. The rain suddenly becoming heavier as if to sympathise with her mood. She already knew what had to be done, it was an unwritten rule that you never left a man behind, even if said men were her worst enemy at the moment. Setting her jaw she gulped in a breath and held it, her body moving quietly across the street to the house that was sure to hold at least a few surprises. As she deftly crossed the street she could hear a ringing from a distance, which made her crouch low against the house's wooden fence, her eyes seeking and finding no origin for the disturbing sound. Something wasn't right, the ringing was getting louder and a feeling of sheer fear crept over her body. Clarice tried to push herself further into the shadows to hide from the feeling of dread that seemed to cling to the air around her, the ringing was relentless and only seemed to get louder the more she tried to hide from it........
* * * *
It took a few moments for Clarice to realise that she was sitting at the edge of her bed, her clothing stuck horribly to her trembling body. Still groggy she was in a dream like state, her mind consumed with images of the very realistic dream she had just awoken from. It took her even longer to realise that the shrill sound that had rescued her from yet another nightmare was the phone that sat on her bedside cabinet. Staring at it for endless moments she eventually reached a shaking hand to the receiver and slowly picked it up. Pressing it to her ear, she didn't trust her voice to speak and simply waited for the caller to identify themselves, knowing instinctively that it was a call she had no interest in receiving.
" Agent Starling my name is Andrew Woodburn, I'm calling on behalf of the National Inquirer, and my office is prepared to pay you a handsome sum of mo."
Slamming the receiver back into its cradle, Clarice stood on shaky legs and made her way to the bathroom, willing her mind to repress yet again the memory of that day.
It had been Four days. In those short days Clarice hadn't stepped foot out of her house, hadn't accepted any visitors, had barley spoken to the people that mattered and had slept approximately ten hours out of the four nights she had attempted. Sitting on the armchair that used to bring her comfort she stared blankly at the TV, the light from which was casting an eerie glow across the otherwise dark room. The closed curtains that served to keep both the light and the reporters from getting access to her had somehow shifted, causing a thin crack of light to enter the musty room, and she sat hypnotised by the play of dust as it moved serenely in and out of the beam.
RRRRRRRRRRIIINNNNGGGGG Clarice jumped; causing the cup of coffee that had long ago gone cold to spill across her dressing gown and chair. Standing slowly she walked out into the hall, the dark figure of someone standing behind her door given nothing but a passing glance as she made her way to the kitchen.
RRRRRRRRRIIINNGGGGGGGGG
Clarice turned the faucet on full spray to drown out the noise of incessant ringing, the sound itself enough to bring back memory's of her dream from the night before.
" Clarice! It's Ardelia open the door!"
Clarice paused slightly in her actions when she heard the familiar voice of her friend. She could also hear the sounds of reporters and cameras as they asked and flashed around her. Returning to the task at hand she continued to rinse the cloth, occasionally running it over her light blue dressing gown.
" Clarice, it's Ardelia honey, c'mon, open the door!"
Walking slowly back to the living room she sat stiffly on the armchair again, her face scrunched up in pain momentarily as she rested her weary body. Resting her head on the high back of the chair, she pulled her gown tighter around her thinning frame, her eyes blinking heavily as she fought the pull of sleep.
She wasn't sure how long she had sat there, but the beam of light that had held her attention had slowly dwindled and the doorbell that had had about as much rest as she, was finally silent. Glancing around the cluttered living room her eyes fell on the stack of newspapers that sat untouched on the table. Moving slowly she reached a hand slowly for the table, grasping the first of the pile and sitting back in the chair.
' CLARICE STARLING IN SHOCK FBI BLUNDER'
The thick black headline stood out in the dim room, screaming for attention, which it gladly received in the form of a pair of quickly filing eyes. Taking a deep breath she let her eyes roam down to the finer print, to the details that she was missing. They were calling it selective amnesia. Temporary memory loss caused by a traumatic and/or stressful event. She had memories though. Clarice could remember the F.B.I doctor's voice as he had explained the condition. Could remember his breath as it washed over her face making her duck her head to avoid gagging. Could remember his sage words of advice as he recommended seeing the company psychologist to retrieve said memories. Could remember the forced smile as she politely refused, and the scowl as she told him were he could stick his sage words of advice before she walked unaided to a waiting cab.
' In what should have been a routine operation for the F.B.I, the apprehension and capture of the recent serial killer who we now know as ' Richard Bradley', turned into the most disastrous blood bath of the beaureu's history. In the centre of it all is Special agent Clarice Starling, who is at this time housebound by the tragic events. A close friend of Agent Starling was available for interview last night and told us this,
' Clarice is traumatised by this. I've never seen her like this before. I don't think she'll ever be the same woman again.'
The F.B.I are unwilling to comment at the moment, but it has been said that Agent Starling is refusing treatment from the Bureau, and has not given a date for her supposed return to active duty. The details of the night in question are sketchy, but what we have heard is shocking. Four agents killed.'
Clarice threw the newspaper as far as she could, the silent sobs that wracked her body causing pain in more ways than one. Pulling herself to a stooped position she made her way towards the kitchen, her feet slightly dragging as her body screamed for rest. The tears continued, the wetness causing her face to itch, but she didn't have the energy to do so. Gripping the doorframe she leaned heavily on it, her eyes slightly blurring as the strong medication began to wear off. A cold sweat crept over her back, causing her to shiver as she staggered to the medicine cupboard above the worktop. Taking a few deep trembling breaths she reached a hand to open the door, pulling the small box so it crashed on the worktop, spilling it's contents over the floor. Cursing under her breath she slipped down to retrieve the painkillers, her hand trembling uncontrollably as she tried to pick them up. Grasping them tightly she attempted to stand, a wave of dizziness causing her legs to buckle under her. As she watched the floor come towards her in slow motion she closed her eyes, it was the last thing she remembered.
* * * * * *
Warm. She was warm. There was no pain. Slowly blinking her eyes open she could see she was in a large bed, in a bedroom, with only a soft lamp to light the room. A surge of panic filled her as she realised it wasn't her room, it wasn't her bed. She was about to push the covers off when a soft, slightly metallic voice sounded from the other side of the room.
" Lay still Clarice, you are in no danger here."
Was this another dream?
" Dr Lecte."
She found her voice sounding blurry to her ears; her tongue ran around her dry mouth before she attempted to speak again.
" Dr Lecter?"
Her voice was slightly slurred and it caused another wave of panic to wash over her. Throwing the covers back with one arm she rolled to the side, swinging her legs over the side and quickly standing. When a wave of dizziness and pain overwhelmed her she slumped back to the bed, a firm hand suddenly on her arm. She desperately tried to pull her arm away, a sense of terror overcoming her and she began to shout.
" No!! Don't!! Let me go!!! Don't touch me!! Don't touch me!! Don't hurt me!!"
Dr Lecter immediately let go and took a large step back, his hands coming up, open palmed to show he meant no harm. He watched as Clarice shrank back onto the bed, her arms moving around her legs. This disturbed him. What had happened to her? Not moving any closer he adjusted his voice to one he would use on patients, children or even a wounded animal.
" Clarice, try to clam down. I am not going to hurt you. I have given you drugs to calm you and take away any discomfort you have been feeling, nothing more. You are in a safe place where no one will try to harm you or hound you."
Clarice slowly brought her eyes up to meet the intense stare that was centred on her. She was confused, her mind seemed slow and sluggish, and she couldn't remember getting here. Yet another memory lost she thought. The silence in the room was beginning to get uncomfortable, and he must have felt it too.
" How do you feel?" he asked quietly, taking a small step towards the bed.
Clarice watched as he stepped closer, she could feel the fog slowly lifting from her brain.
" Dr Lecter?" She whispered, her head forming a well-worn crease.
He watched as she tried to remember what had happened.
" Kitchen. I was in the kitchen. I needed the painkillers and.dizzy, I felt sore and dizzy and I was trying to reach them and." she paused.
" I found you on the kitchen floor. You had passed out. I brought you here in my car and sedated you. You were in some discomfort. Your body was exhausted and needed rest." He spoke gently, trying to keep his explanation simple and minus some details he didn't think she needed to hear.
" Where is here?" she asked, her brain beginning to function normally again.
"Not far." He answered simply.
Silence fell over the room once more as she sat and contemplated what had happened. She looked up quickly when she heard him shift, her eyes wide and muscles tense. He was moving slowly away from her, his hand reaching for something behind him, which she quickly registered as a chair. He moved slightly closer to the bed than he had last time and placed the chair down, sitting slowly down and clasping his hands in front of him. They sat looking at each other for minutes.
" What is my position here Dr Lecter?" she asked eventually, glad that some strength had returned to her voice.
He smiled, his head tilting slightly as he answered the question he knew was coming eventually. He was pleased she was asking such questions.
" You are free to go whenever you please Clarice, you are not a prisoner. Saying that, it may be wise to leave your escape until the medication I administed wears off a little more, I wouldn't want to be responsible for you falling and knocking yourself out."
Silence again.
" Do you require anything?" he asked graciously, his eyes never leaving her.
She broke eye contact for the first time, staring at the hands that were folded around her bent legs.
" I suppose a nice .45 and a set of handcuffs are out of the question?"
He smiled, a full smile that seemed to be contagious as one soon appeared on her face too. It was the first smile she could remember having in a long time. That thought alone soon wiped it off.
" I was thinking more along the lines of tea, something to eat perhaps." He replied, watching as her face fell once more, but not from his comment.
Silence
Her eyes were focused on something across the room, her hands nervously playing with each other. He could see she was lost in thought, her eyes slightly glazed and he could smell a trickle of fear once again. He knew it wasn't from his presence. When she eventually spoke, her voice seemed smaller, quieter, and almost hesitant.
" You know what happened?" she almost whispered, her eyes still locked elsewhere, unblinking, glassy.
He nodded slowly, his eyes watching for the slightest signs, his ears picking up the slight elevation in her breathing.
" I know only what they choose to print in the papers, and what I have seen with my own eyes." He answered carefully.
Clarice moved her gaze slowly to his own, a hand leaving its place and slowly trailing up to the large dark bruise that covered the side of her jaw. It was one of many, the only one visible when she wore long sleeves and trousers. Dr Lecter sat silently, his face schooled to appear calm and unthreatening, his voice soft and gentle. On the inside it was the complete opposite. What he had told her was the truth, he knew no more on what had happened that the man across the street, but he could see that whatever had happened, had disturbed her deeply. The papers had said she had selective amnesia. It was probably the only thing they had gotten right. When he had made the decision to pay her a visit, he had expected many things but not this. Where was her anger? Her spirit? What he saw sitting in front of him was a shadow of the Clarice Starling he had known for more than a decade. When he had eventually made it into her house un-noticed, a feat in itself considering the masses of media camped in her front lawn, he had found her as he said he had, lying on the kitchen floor, an almost empty packet of pain-killers in her hand. The only aspect he had concealed from her was the fact that she was not un-conscious. She was certainly delirious and in pain, when he had reached down and briefly examined her she had tried to bat him away, even tried to bite him. The marks he was able to see through her struggles had left him with nothing but anger. Whoever had done this to her had used not only his fists, but also his own weapon of choice.
" How is your hand?"
Snapping from his thoughts, he gently smiled once more, holding his hand up to show her the repaired thumb. He saw a flash of relief behind her eyes and smiled tightly, not willing to show any more emotion than was necessary. The last thing she needed was more guilt to add to the mountain of other emotions she was already struggling with.
Nodding once she averted her eyes once more and fixed them on the bright white sheet that she had wrapped around her legs.
There was a comfortable silence for more than twenty minutes before something caught his eye. A wince. The tiniest flash of pain across her face, and it was gone.
" Are you in pain Clarice?" he asked smoothly, watching her jump and the flash of discomfort that followed.
She watched as he slowly stood and walked to the low table that was positioned on the far wall. When he turned to face her he had a glass of water and a closed fist. He made his approach slowly, his steps measured and calculated. She could feel the hairs on her arms stand straight as he reached the foot of the bed and the tiny tendril of fear that shimmied up her spine. She tried to push the feelings away, she knew he wasn't going to hurt her, but they remained none the less. Slowing his approach even more, he made his way around the bed, placing the glass of water on the neat bedside table and holding out his hand. There were two small white tablets in the centre.
He could hear her breathing, could smell the fear from her as she stared at his open palm. He watched the muscles flex on her arm as she attempted to lift it, saw the tremble in her hand when she eventually did, felt the tickle of fingertips as she quickly retrieved the tablets. He made no attempt to back off once the tablets where in her hand.
"What are these?" she whispered, looking down to her open hand.
"Simple pain-killers. Nothing more than your own physician would prescribe."
He picked up the glass of water once more and held it out for her, watching as she slowly swallowed both tablets, the soft light in the room highlighting a thin sheen of sweat across her forehead. She was in obvious distress.
" Clarice I may be able to help you further if you detail your injury's to me." He said calmly, watching the panicked look cross her features.
" I'll be fine once the pain-killers kick in." she whispered, her face slightly contorting in silent agony.
" No I don't think you will be. Tell me your diagnosis Clarice." He asked a little more forcefully.
He watched the internal battle that played across her face, the way her fist gripped the sheet's before she moved to speak.
" I can't remember what the doctor's said. It was just after..they didn't."
" It's ok. Just tell me what you know" he spoke gently, glad that she hadn't noticed him sitting at the edge of the bed.
" I, I, I have a. .Deep cut in my back. About 4 inches. It's stitched. There's another on my right thigh, not as big. I have bruising." her voice turned thick with emotion and he watched her hands as they began to shake.
"You should be in hospital Clarice." He stated flatly, shifting slightly to silently reach under the bed.
" I didn't want to. There were reporters and police and F.B.I.." she said, her voice trembling
"Clarice I need to look at those cuts." He stated with a voice that was firm yet understanding. He could see the negative shake of the head before he even finished speaking. He saw the widening of her eyes as he lifted his medical bag into view.
" No" she stated flatly, her head still shaking from side to side.
" Clarice has anyone examined you since you left the hospital?" a negative shake of the head.
" No I thought not." He said with a heavy sigh.
" Those cuts need attention Clarice. They need cleaned and dressed to avoid any infection, if it hasn't occurred already. I know you're uncomfortable with any examination, more so with me doing it, but since you seem unwilling to go anywhere else I don't see many options."
He could see his words having the desired effect and began preparations.
* * * * * * * * * *
Pulling off his gloves he quickly disposed of them and turned to Clarice with a gentle smile. She sat in the middle of the large bed with the white sheet tucked firmly around her. There was nothing said as he sat once more on the wooden chair, watching as the red flush slowly drained from her face. They both knew he understood better what had happened now he had examined her but neither moved to speak of it. He thought carefully before asking his next question.
" What do you remember?"
Clarice's eyes shot to his with a clear signal of 'don't'. He ignored it.
" What do you remember?" he asked with a little more force.
" I don't want to talk about it Dr Lecter." She mumbled, her eyes wide and panicked.
" You were sent to capture the supposed serial killer Richard Bradley. There were three other agents with you."
"Four" she stated. He allowed himself an inward smile. He had started her off.
" Agents Dyers, Parker, Richmond and Stewart. Minimal crew."
" And you were lying in wait."
" It was a basic operation. Two agents in observation, also used for back up, three agents stationed in the red zone, waiting for orders to strike. I was the primary backup for the two agents in the first wave, and it was made clear to me in not so many pleasant words that I was to play a minimal part in the apprehension before we left the field office."
She paused for breath, her eyes focussed somewhere deep within the room, her eyes flashing as she relived the night.
" I played the part they wanted me to play. I didn't make a fuss, there wasn't much point.I heard the order for the first wave to go.I saw the sedan roll down the street.it was so cold, so cold."
Dr lecter heard her West Virginian accent become more pronounced as she spoke, and her last words where a replica of the words she had spoken to him in Memphis.
" What happened next Clarice?"
Her eyes where tearing up as she spoke, her voice trembling and hitching.
" There was an awful silence. I couldn't get any response on voice, it was just.. silent. I knew something was wrong right away; even those bastards wouldn't pull a stunt like that on that operation. I approached the sedan, it was empty. No sign of struggle or.just empty. I tried voice again but there was just the static."
He could see she was slipping into her memory, the small twitches and glassy eyes gave him the knowledge that she was reliving the experience.
" I made the decision to investigate the house.....
Chapter 2 will be up shortly hopefully. Let me know what you think of this so far will you? Cheers cherubs xxxxxxx