Twisted Love Stories

Dream of Me

Chapter Fourteen

Her palms were slick as they slid over her knees. She refused to let her gaze wander from his own. She bit down on the inside of her cheek, holding back the gush of excuses she wanted so badly to use. Clarice Starling didn't need excuses. She wasn't ashamed, nor was she embarrassed, though she believed she should be.

"Clarice, I want you to start at the beginning. When did this all start?" Jack Crawford asked, hands clasped in front of him and obviously more relaxed now that Lecter was no longer within ear shot - or so he assumed. "When did you start feeling something for Hannibal the cannibal Lecter?"

She bit her tongue, her hands forming fists in her lap.

"What? Say it - whatever it is you want to say. Say it."

Hannibal the cannibal Lecter… Don't call him that… No, don't say it Clarice. You can prevent hell from breaking loose. Don't say it…

"Say it Starling." he growled through clenched teeth.

Move the fuck along! What was the question? When… Hannibal the cannibal Lecter… I can't not - Don't you dare say it! Why not? Because!

"The second time I visited him.' Clarice drew in a deep breath, trying as hard as she could to push the intrusive thoughts from her mind.

"Starling… Clarice."

"Mr. Crawford."

Crawford sighed and leaned forward in his seat, crossing his forearms on the table in front of him. "Please, I think I have a right to know what's going on here. I was the one who sent you to that monster in the first place."

"If we're going to have a civilized conversation, you're going to need to stop insulting him like that. No more derogatory terms, no more demeaning nicknames."

"Are you defending him?"

Aw hell, here we go.

"He doesn't need defending. I am merely giving you tips on how to get out of here alive, sir."

And that was true; he didn't need defending, and behaving rudely was hazardous to Jack's health. What she had left out was whether she was defending him, even accidentally, because she didn't know if she was or not. She hadn't meant for it to come across that way, but maybe that was how she had meant it. She shook her head, her eyes flickering for a moment to her pale white knuckles. Instinctively, she unclenched her fists, only to have them form again when he spoke.

"Fine Starling, but I want answers, and I want them now."

She just nodded and cocked her head slightly to the left.

"You look just like him when you do that."

"I'm not quite sure how I feel about you comparing me to him." There was a long silence as she assessed him. "Tell me, in what way did you intend that statement to effect me?"

"This is going nowhere. Why don't you just tell me what possessed you to come here with him? And please, please, be honest." The sincerity in his voice was enough to make her reconsider lying. That would be too easy. The Doctor would consider it rude - cheap.

"Honestly? Are you sure? You're not gonna like what I have to say."

"Tell me."

"I'm not fulfilled. Among other things."

"In what way?"

'Excitement, friends, intellect, lovers-"

"You consider Lecter your lover?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"Maybe potentially. I don't know."

"But you like him."

"Yes."

"A lot."

"If you know, why are you asking me? I'm not a criminal, don't interrogate me like one."

"How do I know you're not a criminal, hm?"

"If you want me to be completely honest with you then you're going to have to give something back. Quid pro quo. I tell you things, you don't comment negatively. Deal?"

"Deal. Tell me, please."

"The aforementioned other things could include… unresolved issues, lack of intillectual stimulation, sexual frustration..." she had to remind herself not to cringe as she said it.

"Sexual frustration?"

"That is what I said, yes, sir, but that isn't entirely-"

"You mean you actually want him to, um," Jack took a deep shaky breath, choking back the bitter bile climbing its way up his oesophagus. "fulfil you… sexually?"

"I suppose." her teeth ground against each other to prevent flipping the table. The hint of a smile graced her lips as she imagined his reaction if she did so. Not so much a smile, more of a sinister smirk.

He took another shaky breath, his eyes focussing on a fold in the curtains on the other side of the room. "Why him?"

Lecter had glided around the kitchen, focussing his attention on their dinner and purposely not listening to the conversation in the other room, but at this question, he couldn't help but pause.

Why him? - Indeed Clarice, why me?

His curiosity got the better of him and he listened carefully, awaiting her answer.

"If you'll pardon the term, Doctor Lecter isn't just a fuck buddy, Mr. Crawford. And if I were to tell you what I truly thought of him, I don't think you could understand."

"Starling, I thought we were being honest with each other. Go, try me."

Clarice leaned back in her chair, feigning contemplation, her arms crossed defiantly over her chest. She was terrified, but she felt compelled to do it anyway. "Why Doctor Lecter? Because he's the most understanding men I've ever met. He may not be as perfect as your Bella was but he's so principaled. He challenges me and everything I believe. He knows me, the good parts and the ugly parts and he still likes me. He hasn't left like the others.

"I know what he's capable of, and maybe I don't agree with the murders or the cannabalism but that isn't all he is. He's a man, and a damn fine one at that." She could read in Jack's face that he didn't understand.

Dr. Lecter could scarcely contain his glee at the sound of her confession, but he was taken completely by surprise when she stormed into the kitchen, obviously livid, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and forcefully pressed her lips against his. Her eyes shut tightly and he could smell the saltiness of her tears as they formed in her pale blue eyes amidst the sea of tangy aromas wafting from the evening's preparations. Hesitantly, Hannibal placed his hands lightly at her waist. She clung to him almost desperately, her teeth grazing his bottom lip.

Hannibal closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose.

She is aroused, but more so I believe she is confused, upset. If I push her away now, I may never get her back.

The Doctor was very still but was not discouraging. He allowed her to vent.

Clarice was panting by the time she forced herself to let go of him. Her heavy breathing tickled his lips. Slowly, so as not to startle her, he opened his eyes. She was already looking back at him through the veil of unshed tears. Lecter did not move however, his hands still lightly at her hips.

She nodded to him, a silent apology on her lips. He nodded and her hands slid from his now badly crumpled collar, to his chest and back to her slides. She continued into the master bedroom of their suite, closing the door behind her and collapsing onto the mattress.

Jack Crawford stood stunned, unmoving in the doorway to the kitchen, his mouth slightly open, the corners of his lips downturned into an almost permanent frown. His arms were limp and his legs trembled. Finally, Lecter looked up from his place in the middle of the kitchen. His expression was blank. That normally would have set off alarms in Crawford's mind but he was far too broken to care.

"Jack, you look positively exhausted. How rude of me not to have noticed before. Would you care for a nap before dinner? The guest bedroom is just there. Make yourself at home."

Jack Crawford did not sleep. Rather, he sat, slumped and defeated on the edge of the guest bed. He didn't feel like a guest – not in the slightest. He had no doubt that should he attempt to leave, his throat would be cut. Or would it be Starling's Colt .45 that would do the job? No, such thoughts were incredulous. A death by Lecter's hand, however, was not so hard to fathom.

What part of me would that sick son of a bitch eat first?

He willed his mind to go blank. He wished he could simply lay his tired head on the hotel's royal blue pillow and sleep until it was over. He would wake up in his usual empty bed and realise that all of it had only been a dream – a delusion created by his own mind.

Closing his eyes, he counted to one hundred, breathing in and out between each number. Still, he could not sleep. His mind was a mess.

The Section Chief was a storm, rage in the form of thunder echoed around him. The hale showed no mercy, plummeting to Earth and crumbling his safe haven. Lecter had waltzed into his cautious, dreary life with Starling on his arm and destroyed everything.

Gone was his haven. Jack Crawford was facing purgatory. He shook his head. "I've been well and truly mind fucked."

Dinner was approaching. He could smell the salmon and spices as they wafted into his room. The divine scent reminded him that his last meal had been lunch the previous day, and he was ravenous. He found himself hoping for a plate of what smelled like his own mother's cooking, and he didn't even bother to scold himself for it.

The opening and closing of a door nearby roused him from his musings.

In the kitchen, Hannibal Lecter looked up from his task as Clarice sheepishly crossed the threshold to him. She looked up, cheeks ablaze with what he knew as embarrassment.

He eyed her suspiciously, not deviating from the task at hand for even a moment. Clarice watched, mesmerized, as he cooked. He moved around the kitchen so easily. His practiced hands worked fast and precise.

I wonder what else his hands can do…

Her heart fluttered and she felt the blood pool in her cheeks, something she knew he would pick up on.

Dammit! Not the time! Stop fantasizing, Clarice. Focus. Where did that thought even come from? Oh God, I'm so screwed.

You wish, darling.

Shut up, Brain!

Leaning on the countertop, she spoke, clearly flustered, "It's pretty steamy in here."

Well fuck, really? That's the best you've got? Why don't you just pop open your top button and sit yourself on the bench?

"That it is, Clarice." he responded with a wink.

Oh boy.

Wanting to change the subject, she asked, "Is there anything I can help you with?"

He paused as he considered the question. "Unfortunately my dear, I'm just about to plate. A shame really, I would have loved the opportunity to watch you work."

"One day, I'm sure."

'Yes…'

Fiddling nervously with her hands, Clarice stalled, searching for the right words.

It's not that hard. Just apologize.

Knowing he would appreciate her courage, she jumped right in, "I'm sorry, Doctor."

He stilled his hands.

She continued, "Kissing you like that was rude of me. I didn't mean to offend you or put you in an awkward position."

"Clarice, the position was anything but awkward. There is no apology necessary, though I appreciate the gesture. I do very much enjoy kissing you."

Her cheeks flushed as she fought to hide her beaming smile. "Likewise Hannibal. You're very good at it."

"Thank you, my dear."

Her next question slipped out before she had a chance to think at all. "Have you had much practice?"

He plated the salmon as he replied. My brave Clarice.

"I am anything but innocent, Clarice, and though I have not been with an abundance of women, I have studied the reactions of the women I have been with, and built my skill upon that. I'm pleased to know it has paid off."

She spoke her sudden jealousy, "Forgive me, Doctor, if in comparison to these other women I am not as..." she seemed to struggle to find the words equal to the clusterfuck in her head. It confused her that he did not seem defensive in the least. He was smiling, humbled by her unawareness of how truly spectacular she was in his mind.

"Not as what, Clarice?"

"Not as… much." Her face revealed nothing.

"It certainly is quite something to know you in private life."

She remained silent for several minutes, watching as he plated the food perfectly onto each plate.

"The table is already set. Have a seat my dear, I'll be with you in a moment."

The Doctor left the kitchen and continued into the hall. He paused at Jack's door, knocked twice and waited.

The door opened and Jack Crawford stumbled out. Hannibal took a step back to examine the state of his guest. He looked starving and in desperate need of a long nap and perhaps a bubble bath. Stubble coated his face and bags weighed heavily under his eyes.

"Dinner is on the table. I expect you'll be joining us?"

Eyes painted empty, he looked up and quietly replied, "Yes, thank you. Fish, isn't it?"

"Salmon. Yes."

"Excellent."