Disclaimer: I do not own any of Thomas Harris's characters, no copyright infringement intended.
The light caress of snow upon skin was angelic, its distant and cooling touch swam through the thick winter air, as though there were thousands of beings swimming the channel, but never quite making it to France. Life is just as the snow is. You swam the channel and some made it to the other side, while others got too tired along the way. Others swept through it, with a few minor slow downs, and still yet others set themselves to an advantage, by tiring out others. The young boy that was laid before her had fallen victim to forced tiring.
The boy lay in a heap of dirtied snow, the false, red wings jutting from his bare back. She knelt by him, her knees popping as she made herself get as near to his cold, blue face as she could. His eyes were wide open and bloodshot. The lens of his eye was a pale blue, not unlike her own. She stared into his death-deepened features as she did so she pulled the silver tape recorder from her back pocket, the sting of the night two weeks ago still remained on its metallic cover. For a split second she thought she could smell him on the buttons, inside the recorders mouth where he had pried the tape from. She thought escaped her mind just as she clicked the play and record buttons in unison. "Looks to be about fourteen or fifteen, definitely still in high school. Eyes are blood shot, indicating strangulation, but will require further analysis."
She slowly clicked the recorder off as she became lost in deep thought, her eyes staying on the boys the whole time. Hannibal had been here already. He had seen the body. Maybe he was even the "anonymous" caller who reported a red set of wings perched atop a huge clump of pushed aside snow. He had to have gotten to the body first; he knows whose doing it. She thought, her hand subconsciously growing tighter and tighter around the tape recorder. Suddenly she felt a sharp tap on her left shoulder, her surprise nearly causing her to tumble straight into the boy's face.
Standing tall behind her was her old boss Jack Crawford. She greeted him with a grand smile, her eyes lighting up, but just as quickly going out, disappointment rising in her gut. "Hello Mr. Crawford. I thought you retiredseven years ago" she wasn't exactly sure what to say, knowing he had seen what she had felt. "I did, but they asked me to assist this case because of my 'expertise'" he grimaced as he mocked the last word, the pronunciation ringing off of his tongue. "Oh" she sighed, looking down at the boys head, noticing his left ear's absence. She quickly clicked the recorder on once again "Missing left ear as already seen on other victims, theUNSUB's habits haven't changed except for age, looks to be fourteen or fifteen, younger than all of the other victims, looks like ear was separated with a serrated blade, not smooth or clean at all." She clicked it off, turning back to Crawford, whose leather like face was smothered in a coy smile. She now squeezed the tape recorder almost hard enough to break it. Her thin, pale fingers almost digging into the metal's surface. Her knuckles were as white as a sheet of paper.
She could feel someone behind her watching her, their eyes seeming to push down on her skin like yearning fingers searching for an estranged bump or birthmark. She swiftly turned, her eyes searching the horizon behind her.
He nearly jumped out of his seat when she turned and looked straight at him, her blue eyes blazing in the cold air. He smiled and nodded his head but dared not wave to her, knowing Jack would recognize the wave in a second. He watched, the smirk never leaving his lips as the realization of who he was swept across her features. She quickly turned back around to her ex-boss, her hair billowing behind her in the wind.
Suddenly over the roar of passing cars and the sound of her blood in her ears she heard her name being called. "Starling! Take a look at this!"
"If you will please excuse me Mr. Crawford, I believe I am being paged." She smiled falsely, extremely relieved to have an excuse to not talk to him. Ever since a set of rumors had been spread around The Bureau about her and Crawford, (some inappropriate and some about him using her to get Hannibal "The cannibal" Lecter.) She had felt odd around him, not really knowing whether to trust him or not.
She walked quickly away from him, sneaking a glance at the now empty café table where Dr. Lecter had sat only moments before. "Starling!" the voice called even louder this time. "Yes sir?" she asked agitatedly, looking in the direction she was being reguested from. She reached the foot of a small set of stairs that led to the front porch of an oldhouse. Her supervisor Mr. Paulson stood above her on the porch, his eyes angry and disgusted. Tied to the door of the home was a pair of human lings, something in the left one bulging almost through the thin muscle. "Oh my god"
She quickly moved the recorder to her mouth, pressing the record button. "Lungs found tied around door knob at…" she stepped back trying to locate the homes address number. "At Thirteen fourteen oak street drive, large object has been placed in the left lung, still unable to be identified, will be bagged and sent to the ME's office ASAP." She immediately clicked it off and ran back to the body, throwing the recorder into her jacket pocket.
"Gloves! Where's the box of gloves?" She called out. Just as she finished the last word someone was at her side with latex gloves, she quickly put them on and knelt by the body. She took hold of the young boy's shoulder and pushed his collapsed body off of its self. There was no incision mark, no stitching or scars to be found. They weren't his lungs. She once again removed the tape recorder and pressed a button. "Lungs do not belong to the victim, there are no incision marks or signs of stitching." She clicked it off and put it back into her pocket. She looked into the cool sky and sighed. She had already been there four hours. Two of which had been wasted on calling on Forensics, other agents and getting the crowd to back off of the crime scene.
"I could use a hell of a lot of coffee right now" she though her mouth watering at the idea. "Mr. Paulson, I'm gunna leave now, is that alright? I will have a report in by Saturday morning." She cringed as her West Virginian prattle seeped out. Her boss looked at her sternly then smiled. "I want you to stay or go straight to the office, you have some work to do here Starling" he loved torturing her with work; it was his only way to get to her. "Yes sir." She grumbled angrily. "Son of a bitch, ass wipe" she thought, the fake smile disappearing from her face as she turned."Oh and Starling?" He paused for effect. "If i find out that you didnt go tot he office, your ass is gunna be on the line."
She walked to her car slowly, wishing she had just left instead of saying anything to the bastard she called her boss. Frustrated she got in and started the engine, taking the cassette recorder out of her pocket and placing it in the seat beside her. She turned the radio up loudly and drove off, her hands clenching the steering wheel, wishing it was her boss's neck. "No you don't Starling" she said to herself out loud. She came to a stop sign in a small back neighborhood that she drove through everyday to get to the office. The song on the radio stopped playing and the car was abruptly filled with the sound of commercials. She quickly turned it off, talking to herself. "Yada yada, Club sapphire, comewatch all the sluts and bad dancers…" she said loudly, though to herself.
"Turn here Clarice, your going to be a little late tot he office I am afraid" The thick metallic voice seeped from her back seat nearly making her jump on the gas as she startled in fright. "Holy shit" she coughed out, breathing hard. After she didn't move for a longmoment a strong hand wrapped around her thin waist and a harpy was pressed hard against her throat. "You turn or get in the backseat and allow me to drive" he hissed into her ear, the warm of his breathe smothering it.
A/N:Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm