Disclaimer: I own nothing :0( (only what happens to be in my imagination) All characters belong to Thomas Harris.
Dreams of reality
Clarice felt the excruciating pain in her head and tried unsuccessfully to open her eyes. The combination of searing pain and blinding daylight caused her to groan and shut them tight again. She welcomed the dark behind her closed eyes, it was safe and comforting. It eased her pain.
After a few minutes she tried again with better results. Clarice found herself sitting on a stone floor with her back against a wall. Wincing, she put her hand to her head. Her hair was matted with something sticky and warm. As she brought her hand down to eye level Clarice saw that her fingers were covered on blood. My blood… Shakily she stood up and immediately became dizzy, Holding onto the wall she steadied herself enough to look around at her surroundings.
What the hell happened to me? And where the hell am I? As she looked around her Clarice saw herself to be in some kind of Cathedral or church. There wasn't any altar or font or any other religious artefacts you would hope to find in a church. Instead it was a very large and very empty room with impressive stained glass windows and rows and rows on benches.
"Hello?" Clarice called out as she took a couple of careful steps. Her head was hurting like the nine shades of Hades at the sound of her own voice.
"Is there anyone there?" Her voice echoed off the cold stone walls. Clarice shivered at a realisation He is here. She didn't have to see him to know it. She could just feel him, she always could. Somewhere…here…waiting…for me…Slowly, Clarice made her way down the centre aisle. She was positive that the sound of her heels on the stone flooring could have woken the Gods. It wasn't that her footing was particularly heavy but that everything else was so deathly quiet.
Clarice felt very small and insignificant walking through this space but she knew it was not true. She was anything but insignificant. After all had not he once said "… the world is more interesting with you in it…"
Instinct took over as she reached the open double doors at the end of the aisle.
She didn't know where she was going but she knew it was somewhere she needed to go. Clarice turned to her right and began to make her way a long flight of stairs. He IS here…He's very near…Fisting her palms Clarice tried to calm the sudden invasion of butterflies that had arrived in her stomach.
Reaching the top of the stairs, Clarice saw before her a long corridor, empty but for a wide strip of thick red carpet, the occasional wooden door and a few random portraits of rather important looking people. In an almost dreamlike state Clarice walked down the hall.
…Clarice… She stopped dead It's him, her breathing quickened. After a brief pause Clarice started walking again. After what seemed like an eternity, but had just a few minutes, Clarice heard that same ice cold voice in her head again…CLARICE… It whispered louder. Again she stopped dead. The butterflies that had subsided now resumed their games. Clarice looked and saw that she had stopped in front of a heavy oak door. He's in there. Clarice suddenly felt very light headed and knew it wasn't from her head wound.
Cautiously she took hold of the door handle and turned it. Surprisingly it didn't need much force to open the door. It creaked slightly as Clarice pushed against it. The room Clarice found herself in looked like a chapel but again with no religious furnishings, just a couple of small benches side by side. It was small with the same stone walls and flooring as was downstairs. The only light source for the room came from window which was built too high into the wall for a view to be seen.
Impeccably dressed as usual, the man with whom she spent her every waking moment, the man who haunted her dreams was stood between the benches. He unbuttoned his cream trench coat and laid it on the bench next to him, the Armani suit he revealed was of the best quality. Clarice silently gasped as she saw him, the muscles in her stomach tensing. Smiling at her unheard gasp, the man bowed his head towards her as he removed his fedora. Always the ultimate gentleman. The air in the room was thick and smelt of danger. Clarice didn't notice…all she saw was him…
"I've been waiting for you Clarice" His voice sent icicles shooting down her spine.
"Really? Why is that?" Clarice enquired, trying to restrain the curiosity inside her.
She found that she couldn't look at him but didn't know why.
Isn't this what I have wanted for so long? To see him again? To be near him again?
"Well, you see my dear. I have a question to ask you. That is if you will permit me to ask it?" Clarice stared at the man facing her, not understanding. You have never asked permission for anything. You have always done whatever you have wanted to do. Always said what you have wanted to say. Regardless of anybody else. Slowly, she nodded, the coppery strands of her hair shimmering in the daylight, looking like liquid gold. The older man licked his lips at the sight of her. The movement of her head also triggered her wound again.
"Ahh" she winced, her hand automatically going to her head.
"I'm sorry about that little one, but you were being most un-co-operative." He smiled at her, deadly and seductive.
Clarice brought her hand back down to her side, not wanting to show any weakness to this man. She hadn't in the past and wasn't going to now.
"Ok, what is your question?" She asked matter of fact-ly.
The man looked at her with an intensity that would have shook a grown man to his core, but not her, not Clarice Starling. She just squared her shoulders and returned his gaze. Turning his back on her, he walked towards the back of the room.
"I've been hearing rumours Clarice. Lots of rumours" Clarice froze, suddenly glued to the spot. She knew the rumours.
"From the F.B.I. Have you head the rumours Clarice? The rumours… about us, Clarice? " Yes
"No." He could taste the lie in that one word that she spoke. He turned to face her again.
"Lets play a game shall we?" His eyes were glowing with anticipation. Clarice knew full well it wasn't a friendly offer but something she knew better than to refuse. Her resolve hardened and her green eyes narrowed as she glared at him. Her inner FBI agent knew what was what was coming and braced herself for a losing battle…
"Quid Pro Quo Clarice?…And don't lie to me because I will know. Are you in love Clarice? " Cold and cruel was his voice but Clarice never even noticed.
The words he spoke caressed her like silk and her resolve disappeared.
Her knees buckled at what he had just asked her, His words swirled around her head making her unable to follow a coherent train of thought She had to grab hold of the bench to regain her balance.
Why are you asking me? You know the truth or you wouldn't be here…
Of course he just stood and watched her reaction, taking it all in, analysing it all. He knew what her silence meant. He also knew that she knew that he knew.
Clarice opened her eyes and saw that he was now stood right next to her. He placed his hand over the over hers that was resting on the bench. His index finger caught against hers and Clarice felt a surge of something…something familiar.
"Clarice?…Do you remember what I told you in that courthouse in Memphis… When you told me that you came to me because you wanted to?" His tone no longer mocking and vicious, it was almost…caring?
Biting her lip, she closed her eyes, Clarice was immediately back in Tennessee. It was so long ago but it was just yesterday. She saw the man, younger, as she was then, between the bars of his cage, in his grey jumpsuit, book in his hands. People will say we're in love. Tears seeped from underneath her eyelids.
"I remember every word you have ever spoken to me" She whispered. She hated the words, didn't want to say them, but was unable to stop them escaping her lips. Whether he was surprised by her statement Clarice couldn't tell, his composure, his expression never changed. He was so close to her, Clarice took a step back to calm herself down. His proximity was making her giddy despite her tears.
His face was millimetres from hers now, no doubt he was drinking in all of her, her emotions her scent, her body language. He could taste her pain and anguish and it was delicious. He knew everything about her and yet he knew more about her that she did herself.
"Who do you dream of at night Clarice? Who's mouth are you kissing? Who's hands are touching you when you reach your climax? Your Jack Crawford? Or is it the late great Mr Krendler?". Her tears dried in an instant and her eyes flashed with emotion. You know who I dream of …She hoped they showed him anger and hate rather than the lust and passion she was actually feeling.
Why are you torturing me? You know how I feel… you have always known it.
Clarice was aching for his red hot touch on her skin and he knew it…he savoured the knowledge that she wanted him.
The man didn't say a word but stood, his predatory eyes looking in her jewel coloured ones. Taking both her hands in his he placed them on his shoulders, waiting for her to pull away from him…she didn't though his touch made feel like she was on fire.
By now Clarice was losing all her rational senses. Looking into those eyes that she knew so well yet not at all, all she knew was that she was where she wanted to be with the man she wanted to be with. She knew now was the time, if she didn't now then she never would. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves and not taking her eyes away from his, she bared her soul…
"You got inside my head…you stayed there" Clarice turned her head to the side and using her long red hair as a shield, hid her face from the man in front of her. She mumbled her next sentence into her hair,
"You made me give you my heart…I should hate you" Her tears dampened her cheeks for the second time. With this the man lifted her face towards him, making her meet his gaze and smiled.
"I should hate you for who you are, what you have done, what you have made me do and what you have done to me!…But I don't…and I never will" Clarice looked into those ice blue eyes, past the eyes of the killer and into the soul of the man. She knew, as always, that although he wouldn't hurt her, that is, he chose not to, it didn't mean that he couldn't or wouldn't if he was driven to. She had seen what he was capable of…
Clarice waited for his response to her speech with baited breath. Her hands dropped from his shoulders as her heart grew heavy with despair from his lack of response, then she saw something dance in his eyes. Something unusual. Could it be- Clarice wasn't able to finish that thought because her shirt was being unbuttoned. Just three buttons, just enough to see the lace of her underwear, just enough to see the colour of her skin flush a delicate pink as her breathing became more ragged.
Her arms went around the mans neck pulling him closer to her, who's owns arms went to Clarice's waist.
He semi-forcefully pushed her against the wall which caused Clarice to catch her head wound against the rough stone work. This time she didn't care for the pain. In fact if it hadn't been for the pain in the head, Clarice could have sworn she was made of Champagne bubbles. His touch was electric which made all her nerve endings go berserk and in turn caused her to shiver with pleasure.
He bent his head and licked along her collarbone, He looked at her when he got to her shoulder and with one look a thousand words were said.
Closing her eyes he bent his head again, this time over her mouth. Clarice felt a sudden stab of pain as he bit into her bottom lip and her eyes flew open. She could feel the blood running down her chin and her lips starting to swell but she didn't care. Clarice saw in his face the ecstasy and the…Is it love? …Love for me? Yes. Yes it it.
It was a terrifying sight: an older man pinning a young woman to a wall. Blood splatters on his mouth and face, leaning down towards her.
Not for Clarice, she had just been given a declaration of love. Bending towards her again, he softly kissed her bloody, swollen lips. Clarice tasted her own blood, sweet and warm.
"Answer my question my dear Clarice? Are you in love?" In her euphoric state Clarice couldn't answer, her mind was all over the place, she could swear she could hear a phone ringing. It was getting louder. It was getting deafening…
Clarice opened her sleepy eyes and slowly lifted her head off her arms. Damn it! Picking up the phone on the fourth ring, it took her a moment before she could find her voice. Before she had time to speak a man spoke just five words to her before disconnecting the call,
"I'm coming for you Clarice…" The pretty redhead smiled knowingly at herself. He loves me. For years I've known it and for two years I've waited for him to come back and get me. He finally is…
The End