'At the End of the Game'
Part three: Playing the damned hand
Water enclosed around the attached bodies. It was velvety warmth, Clarice felt a moment of relaxation, she imaged herself in a womb, untouchable and completely safe.
The situation she soon found herself in however, was quite they contrary.
Hannibal Lecter was a sinking weight. She could see his dark head falling beneath her, although her wasn't looking up at her, she felt as though he was waiting for her to respond.
In this situation, Clarice found herself considering two of such reactions. She could produce they key, which was tucked into the material at her waist, unlock the cuffs and call for backup. Or she could wait, and hope that time was going to be welcoming.
The former would be risky, unbinding them would give them time apart, time, which Lecter would use wisely...or would he? She recalled what he had said earlier.
'" You know I'd rather throw myself onto my harpy than be re-incarcerated."'
Heaviness tugged at her stomach. What would he do if she did separate their bodies? He'd made it more than clear in establishing the fact that any form of re-capture would be intolerable on his part. The pressure change in her ear 'pinged' as she realised what he had set up.
Unlocking the cuffs would grant Clarice her freedom, and his too. Her eyes twitched when he looked up at her, his gaze was partially distorted by the water pressure, nevertheless reached and locked with her own . It was her turn, her play, she would be the one to decide how this game would end.
Without further thought, Clarice reached a decision. She felt the air pressure begin to crush her lungs, and her brain send a frenzy of jolts through her nervous system, demanding oxygen.
' God help me'
Hannibal Lecter found himself, for the first time in numerous years, confused, and quite off-balance. He had quite expected Clarice's resilience in the kitchen, she was as strong willed as himself, and for her to ask him to stop on her behalf would be feeble, and quite simply distasteful.
But as for her actions now, Hannibal found himself without calculation. Surely this would be the pinnacle for her, to go beyond this point would put her life in his hands. It would be undeniably out of character for his little warrior to hand over her victorious sword.
Jumping off the boat had been his planned step, once Clarice had phones the authorities. Having a companion to keep him company, however, had not been given a second thought. He had been so certain that he would be without his left thumb, he had even stored a first-aid kit in the bow of the boat. He now scolded himself for lack of due thought.
When he finally looked up at her body, a familiar tingle surged his body. Above him, she looked angelic. Her hair, now loose from the tie, danced around her soft pastel face. An amber halo complimented by her intense blue gaze. He had missed that face over the past ten years. Pixel images hardly did her justice, Clarice Starling in the flesh was the one indulgence Hannibal Lecter would not relinquish. He wondered if she had thought about him with similar frequency. Even if she had, finding out would be next to impossible.
These few seconds would be critical for her, she needed to retrieve the key, unbind them and flag down the officers. As of yet, she had made no attempt to do so, hence his confusion. She just continued to stare at him. They were both waiting on mutual ground, it occurred to him for that moment, that she was reading him, seeing through his plans, and challenging him to uproot his careful strategy.
'Not in a thousand years' he mouthed to her as they both continued their fall into darkness.
She had read his lips, he could tell from the strong imprinted frown which formed across her forehead.
Clarice swept her hand over her hip to check for they key. At that moment she considered what they had both expected the *agents* reaction to be. Time had extended long enough, she was finally ready to see an end to the inevitable. If Hannibal Lecter was to go down, her only respected place would be right next to him.
Clarice fell into unconsciousness for the second time that evening. Her eyes slid shut and her head fell heavily onto her shoulder. Without restraint, her body joined Hannibal's at the bottom of the lake.
Dr. Lecter pulled her motionless form into his embrace, tugging for the key at her side. Tonight would mark both of them forever, tonight all of the rules of the game had changed. Clarice Starling and Hannibal Lecter had both lost themselves in the game, yet nothing seemed to amusing to either of them any longer.
Oh please, a true Lecterphile would never kill the leading man, not even in the honour of suspense. I expect chapter 4 up within the next week. Thank you to all those for reviewing, I find your comments a foundation for inspiration.
Part three: Playing the damned hand
Water enclosed around the attached bodies. It was velvety warmth, Clarice felt a moment of relaxation, she imaged herself in a womb, untouchable and completely safe.
The situation she soon found herself in however, was quite they contrary.
Hannibal Lecter was a sinking weight. She could see his dark head falling beneath her, although her wasn't looking up at her, she felt as though he was waiting for her to respond.
In this situation, Clarice found herself considering two of such reactions. She could produce they key, which was tucked into the material at her waist, unlock the cuffs and call for backup. Or she could wait, and hope that time was going to be welcoming.
The former would be risky, unbinding them would give them time apart, time, which Lecter would use wisely...or would he? She recalled what he had said earlier.
'" You know I'd rather throw myself onto my harpy than be re-incarcerated."'
Heaviness tugged at her stomach. What would he do if she did separate their bodies? He'd made it more than clear in establishing the fact that any form of re-capture would be intolerable on his part. The pressure change in her ear 'pinged' as she realised what he had set up.
Unlocking the cuffs would grant Clarice her freedom, and his too. Her eyes twitched when he looked up at her, his gaze was partially distorted by the water pressure, nevertheless reached and locked with her own . It was her turn, her play, she would be the one to decide how this game would end.
Without further thought, Clarice reached a decision. She felt the air pressure begin to crush her lungs, and her brain send a frenzy of jolts through her nervous system, demanding oxygen.
' God help me'
Hannibal Lecter found himself, for the first time in numerous years, confused, and quite off-balance. He had quite expected Clarice's resilience in the kitchen, she was as strong willed as himself, and for her to ask him to stop on her behalf would be feeble, and quite simply distasteful.
But as for her actions now, Hannibal found himself without calculation. Surely this would be the pinnacle for her, to go beyond this point would put her life in his hands. It would be undeniably out of character for his little warrior to hand over her victorious sword.
Jumping off the boat had been his planned step, once Clarice had phones the authorities. Having a companion to keep him company, however, had not been given a second thought. He had been so certain that he would be without his left thumb, he had even stored a first-aid kit in the bow of the boat. He now scolded himself for lack of due thought.
When he finally looked up at her body, a familiar tingle surged his body. Above him, she looked angelic. Her hair, now loose from the tie, danced around her soft pastel face. An amber halo complimented by her intense blue gaze. He had missed that face over the past ten years. Pixel images hardly did her justice, Clarice Starling in the flesh was the one indulgence Hannibal Lecter would not relinquish. He wondered if she had thought about him with similar frequency. Even if she had, finding out would be next to impossible.
These few seconds would be critical for her, she needed to retrieve the key, unbind them and flag down the officers. As of yet, she had made no attempt to do so, hence his confusion. She just continued to stare at him. They were both waiting on mutual ground, it occurred to him for that moment, that she was reading him, seeing through his plans, and challenging him to uproot his careful strategy.
'Not in a thousand years' he mouthed to her as they both continued their fall into darkness.
She had read his lips, he could tell from the strong imprinted frown which formed across her forehead.
Clarice swept her hand over her hip to check for they key. At that moment she considered what they had both expected the *agents* reaction to be. Time had extended long enough, she was finally ready to see an end to the inevitable. If Hannibal Lecter was to go down, her only respected place would be right next to him.
Clarice fell into unconsciousness for the second time that evening. Her eyes slid shut and her head fell heavily onto her shoulder. Without restraint, her body joined Hannibal's at the bottom of the lake.
Dr. Lecter pulled her motionless form into his embrace, tugging for the key at her side. Tonight would mark both of them forever, tonight all of the rules of the game had changed. Clarice Starling and Hannibal Lecter had both lost themselves in the game, yet nothing seemed to amusing to either of them any longer.
Oh please, a true Lecterphile would never kill the leading man, not even in the honour of suspense. I expect chapter 4 up within the next week. Thank you to all those for reviewing, I find your comments a foundation for inspiration.