A/N: Sorry for such the delay! But here is the next chapter! Much more to
come, so please read and review if you have time! Thanks a million!
Disclaimers: Same as...yeah..::runs::
It was Thursday morning and Clarice was still shaken about the happenings of the afternoon before. She couldn't believe she was once again playing cat and mouse with Hannibal Lecter.
All she could think about as she tucked her auburn locks into a high ponytail and buttoned up her black blouse was when she would next hear from him. He had an uncanny way of inhabiting her mind completely and she could think of nothing but his gleaming eyes, black with fire and ice, staring at her, making her feel invaded in every single way she could think of. She felt she could hide nothing from him once their eyes locked.
Clarice shuddered as she let out a deep, intensity riddled breath. Quickly she put on a small pair of golden hoop earrings and looked around for her keys and purse. Upon finding them halfway under her dresser, she threw them onto her bed and raked open her closet, searching for her jacket. As she flipped through various items of her clothing on hangers, a sudden flash of curiosity gnawed at the back of her mind. She stood for a moment, biting her lip. Finally, slowly, she reached to the very back of her closet and pulled out a long, black satin item that hadn't seen daylight for an eternity.
The dark material seemed dull when mixed with the muted gray-blue light that hung outside of her windows, but Clarice remembered a time when this fabric had shone as brightly as the night sky. As she held the dress in her hands, Clarice drifted into a swift current of uneasy memories.
-- The hallway was blurry, shadowy...eerie. Muffled sounds from beneath her...from downstairs. Voices. Her vision was shifting...she couldn't see. Everything around her seemed to be set in double vision. The cool wall on her forehead...a distinct nauseated feeling in the pit of her stomach. She felt farther from herself than she would have ever thought possible. Numbness and fright was spread throughout her entire body, she felt as if she wanted to move, to run, but could not. It was like being inside a horrible, abstract dream. She was scared, and the drugs made her feel weak and vulnerable. She was in a house she was not at all familiar with, she was unarmed, she was in clothing she had never seen in her life...yet she managed to stay inside her own head. She gathered her vague thoughts and decided she needed to find help...
Downstairs. The dining room door was ajar...push it open. Hannibal Lecter stood above Paul Krendler, making...dinner? Paul looked lifeless, eyes glazed over.
"Clarice, what are you doing up? You should be resting. Get back to bed."
"I'm hungry..." was all she managed to say.
Blurred scenes from the dining room...
"Clarice...love the dress. It's beautiful."
Why would he do this to her...did he think he was showing off? Did he think she would like to see Paul Krendler in this state? Corruption and un-real were the words that came to mind. It seemed like a dream...it was too gruesome, too insane to be reality. She would have dismissed it as that...she would have, if she hadn't grown to know Hannibal Lecter as well as she had. He was simply so mad that he was perfectly sane...it was the worst way a person could be.
"You see the brain itself feels no pain, Clarice. If that concerns you."
Human beings shouldn't witness scenes like this...
Feeling nauseated...mentally and physically...
"Given the chance, you would deny me my life, wouldn't you?"
"Not your life."
"My freedom, just that. You'd take that from me. And if you did, would they have you back, do you think? The...FBI? Those people you despise almost as much as they despise you? Would they give you a medal, Clarice...do you think? Would you have if professionally framed and hang it on your wall to remind you of your courage and incorruptibility? All you would need for that, Clarice, is a mirror."
Hatred. Pure hatred. She felt as if scorching tears should be pouring down her cheeks, but they did not. She felt like steel...the words stung at her like burning flames in the center of her heart and mind...but she showed no reaction. Her skin was tingling with loathing and fire. The counterpart of what she felt was frustration. She knew what Lecter was telling her was true...but she gritted her teeth at the thought. She wanted to make herself believe it wasn't real. She wanted to make him feel as much excruciating pain as he had made her feel.
Why her...why did he pick her of all people to be his toy? Fire, gritted teeth, hatred, frustration, confusion, anger...
"Tell me, Clarice, would you ever say to me...'Stop. If you loved me, you'd stop."
...obsession, attraction, understanding, freedom...a way to escape.
"Not in a thousand years."
"Not in a thousand years? That's my girl!" --
Clarice dropped the black satin onto the bed in one swift motion as if just realizing she was holding a poisonous snake. She stared at it, feeling numb once again. Her brow was furrowed in thought and vivid emotions, a whirlwind of confusion and she could not begin to explain how she felt. The long, black jacket hung limp on a hook in the closet. Clarice grabbed it quickly along with the keys on her bed and slammed the door hard on her way out, not bothering to hang the dress back up from its strewn position on her unmade bed or close the open closet door.
Clarice parked her car three blocks away from the Behavioral Sciences building. She locked the Mustang and began walking down Manhattan Avenue. It was a clear morning, the sun was not high in the sky, but it flooded the trees and streets with its warm honey colored light nonetheless. Small clouds of moist vapor puffed from Clarice's open mouth as she breathed, walking fast with her head down. Her lips were chilled from the quiet gray air, and she quickly ran her tongue along them for warmth and to prevent chapping. As she did this, Clarice could have sworn she could still feel the heated pressure of Lecter's lips on hers.
"God girl, you're going CRAZY...," she mumbled to herself as she made a left on Capitol Street. About eight more minutes passed of walking and thinking before Clarice spotted her usual coffee stand located a half a block from the Behavioral Scienes building.
Walking up to the cashier she dug into her purse and pulled out four tattered bills and a few scattered coins.
"Hey, Seth." she said with a small smile to the young man with blonde dread locks behind the stand.
"Hey there, Clarice. Having a rough mornin'?" he asked with a playful grin. He had no idea of what Clarice had been going through these past weeks, these past two days, especially.
Clarice laughed in spite of something better to do. "You could say that again. Get me a large coffee please, Seth." She shoved the pile of money and coins across the counter in a small heap.
"Sure thing." Seth turned and grabbed a large cup from a stack on the counter, skillfully flipped it around in his hand, set it under the coffee spout and pressed the small button.
The cold air stung at Hannibal Lecter's eyes as he sat watching Clarice Starling. Espresso cup in gloved hand; he sipped at it every now and then, taking his time. She did look particularly bothered this morning, did she not? A little weary, he could see the beginnings of light lavender shadows beneath her deep hazel eyes. Lecter chuckled to himself; she was loosing sleep over him. How he loved having that effect on her. She was done paying for her coffee now, she took the cup in both hands and pulled out a chair two tables in front of the one Lecter was sitting at. She had not so much as glanced at him. Clarice slapped down today's issue of the Washington Post onto the tabletop as she took a seat.
A minute passed...
Two minutes passed...
Lecter sat, gazing at Starling from his safe location. She was deeply immersed in an article in the middle of the newspaper, some Law Enforcement Official had been fired, no doubt an associate of Clarice's. Lecter had read the same newspaper only earlier this morning.
Three minutes...
Six minutes...
Clarice smiled slightly at the comics on the Funnies page, and then folded up the newspaper in completion.
Lecter took his cue and set his empty espresso cup silently onto the table and rose in the same manner. He dived a hand into his pocket, and ran a thumb over the smooth case of a small electronic device. It was still there, good...good. Smiling wickedly, he walked briskly down the street to catch up to a retreating Clarice. Once she had turned the corner from the coffee stand, he sped his walk up ever so slightly to approach her. There were quite a few people around, busy people on their way to work...no one looked twice at Lecter. Or Starling, for that matter.
Clarice kept up her steady and brisk walk, unaware that someone was following her. She kept her head down and her jacket pulled tightly around her. As she past the police station in the rough, busy law district and neared the Behavioral Sciences building, Lecter caught up to her.
Sliding right up against her body, making it look as if he had only accidentally collided with the pedestrian, he hissed a few words into a startled Clarice Starling's ear.
"You should get more rest, Clarice...you look dead on your feet."
As he said this, he quickly extracted from his pocket the small black device and slid it smoothly into the side pocket of Clarice's long, black jacket. She had not noticed, she was too busy staring at the face that was only inches from her own.
"Dr. Lecter..." she breathed. "What--" she began but Lecter only remained long enough to give her a small smile and then he sped up, turned the corner on the upcoming block and vanished.
Clarice broke into a run and left the few yards from where she had been to the intersection on the next street behind her. She looked around frantically; searching for where he had went. The stoplight above her suddenly flashed green and the traffic started up and zoomed along, breaking any chance for a sight of him. Still hopeful, she stood on her tiptoes to look above the traffic, but it was no use. Clarice lowered her hand from her gun in the holster on her belt. It was too late...he was gone.
It was Thursday morning and Clarice was still shaken about the happenings of the afternoon before. She couldn't believe she was once again playing cat and mouse with Hannibal Lecter.
All she could think about as she tucked her auburn locks into a high ponytail and buttoned up her black blouse was when she would next hear from him. He had an uncanny way of inhabiting her mind completely and she could think of nothing but his gleaming eyes, black with fire and ice, staring at her, making her feel invaded in every single way she could think of. She felt she could hide nothing from him once their eyes locked.
Clarice shuddered as she let out a deep, intensity riddled breath. Quickly she put on a small pair of golden hoop earrings and looked around for her keys and purse. Upon finding them halfway under her dresser, she threw them onto her bed and raked open her closet, searching for her jacket. As she flipped through various items of her clothing on hangers, a sudden flash of curiosity gnawed at the back of her mind. She stood for a moment, biting her lip. Finally, slowly, she reached to the very back of her closet and pulled out a long, black satin item that hadn't seen daylight for an eternity.
The dark material seemed dull when mixed with the muted gray-blue light that hung outside of her windows, but Clarice remembered a time when this fabric had shone as brightly as the night sky. As she held the dress in her hands, Clarice drifted into a swift current of uneasy memories.
-- The hallway was blurry, shadowy...eerie. Muffled sounds from beneath her...from downstairs. Voices. Her vision was shifting...she couldn't see. Everything around her seemed to be set in double vision. The cool wall on her forehead...a distinct nauseated feeling in the pit of her stomach. She felt farther from herself than she would have ever thought possible. Numbness and fright was spread throughout her entire body, she felt as if she wanted to move, to run, but could not. It was like being inside a horrible, abstract dream. She was scared, and the drugs made her feel weak and vulnerable. She was in a house she was not at all familiar with, she was unarmed, she was in clothing she had never seen in her life...yet she managed to stay inside her own head. She gathered her vague thoughts and decided she needed to find help...
Downstairs. The dining room door was ajar...push it open. Hannibal Lecter stood above Paul Krendler, making...dinner? Paul looked lifeless, eyes glazed over.
"Clarice, what are you doing up? You should be resting. Get back to bed."
"I'm hungry..." was all she managed to say.
Blurred scenes from the dining room...
"Clarice...love the dress. It's beautiful."
Why would he do this to her...did he think he was showing off? Did he think she would like to see Paul Krendler in this state? Corruption and un-real were the words that came to mind. It seemed like a dream...it was too gruesome, too insane to be reality. She would have dismissed it as that...she would have, if she hadn't grown to know Hannibal Lecter as well as she had. He was simply so mad that he was perfectly sane...it was the worst way a person could be.
"You see the brain itself feels no pain, Clarice. If that concerns you."
Human beings shouldn't witness scenes like this...
Feeling nauseated...mentally and physically...
"Given the chance, you would deny me my life, wouldn't you?"
"Not your life."
"My freedom, just that. You'd take that from me. And if you did, would they have you back, do you think? The...FBI? Those people you despise almost as much as they despise you? Would they give you a medal, Clarice...do you think? Would you have if professionally framed and hang it on your wall to remind you of your courage and incorruptibility? All you would need for that, Clarice, is a mirror."
Hatred. Pure hatred. She felt as if scorching tears should be pouring down her cheeks, but they did not. She felt like steel...the words stung at her like burning flames in the center of her heart and mind...but she showed no reaction. Her skin was tingling with loathing and fire. The counterpart of what she felt was frustration. She knew what Lecter was telling her was true...but she gritted her teeth at the thought. She wanted to make herself believe it wasn't real. She wanted to make him feel as much excruciating pain as he had made her feel.
Why her...why did he pick her of all people to be his toy? Fire, gritted teeth, hatred, frustration, confusion, anger...
"Tell me, Clarice, would you ever say to me...'Stop. If you loved me, you'd stop."
...obsession, attraction, understanding, freedom...a way to escape.
"Not in a thousand years."
"Not in a thousand years? That's my girl!" --
Clarice dropped the black satin onto the bed in one swift motion as if just realizing she was holding a poisonous snake. She stared at it, feeling numb once again. Her brow was furrowed in thought and vivid emotions, a whirlwind of confusion and she could not begin to explain how she felt. The long, black jacket hung limp on a hook in the closet. Clarice grabbed it quickly along with the keys on her bed and slammed the door hard on her way out, not bothering to hang the dress back up from its strewn position on her unmade bed or close the open closet door.
Clarice parked her car three blocks away from the Behavioral Sciences building. She locked the Mustang and began walking down Manhattan Avenue. It was a clear morning, the sun was not high in the sky, but it flooded the trees and streets with its warm honey colored light nonetheless. Small clouds of moist vapor puffed from Clarice's open mouth as she breathed, walking fast with her head down. Her lips were chilled from the quiet gray air, and she quickly ran her tongue along them for warmth and to prevent chapping. As she did this, Clarice could have sworn she could still feel the heated pressure of Lecter's lips on hers.
"God girl, you're going CRAZY...," she mumbled to herself as she made a left on Capitol Street. About eight more minutes passed of walking and thinking before Clarice spotted her usual coffee stand located a half a block from the Behavioral Scienes building.
Walking up to the cashier she dug into her purse and pulled out four tattered bills and a few scattered coins.
"Hey, Seth." she said with a small smile to the young man with blonde dread locks behind the stand.
"Hey there, Clarice. Having a rough mornin'?" he asked with a playful grin. He had no idea of what Clarice had been going through these past weeks, these past two days, especially.
Clarice laughed in spite of something better to do. "You could say that again. Get me a large coffee please, Seth." She shoved the pile of money and coins across the counter in a small heap.
"Sure thing." Seth turned and grabbed a large cup from a stack on the counter, skillfully flipped it around in his hand, set it under the coffee spout and pressed the small button.
The cold air stung at Hannibal Lecter's eyes as he sat watching Clarice Starling. Espresso cup in gloved hand; he sipped at it every now and then, taking his time. She did look particularly bothered this morning, did she not? A little weary, he could see the beginnings of light lavender shadows beneath her deep hazel eyes. Lecter chuckled to himself; she was loosing sleep over him. How he loved having that effect on her. She was done paying for her coffee now, she took the cup in both hands and pulled out a chair two tables in front of the one Lecter was sitting at. She had not so much as glanced at him. Clarice slapped down today's issue of the Washington Post onto the tabletop as she took a seat.
A minute passed...
Two minutes passed...
Lecter sat, gazing at Starling from his safe location. She was deeply immersed in an article in the middle of the newspaper, some Law Enforcement Official had been fired, no doubt an associate of Clarice's. Lecter had read the same newspaper only earlier this morning.
Three minutes...
Six minutes...
Clarice smiled slightly at the comics on the Funnies page, and then folded up the newspaper in completion.
Lecter took his cue and set his empty espresso cup silently onto the table and rose in the same manner. He dived a hand into his pocket, and ran a thumb over the smooth case of a small electronic device. It was still there, good...good. Smiling wickedly, he walked briskly down the street to catch up to a retreating Clarice. Once she had turned the corner from the coffee stand, he sped his walk up ever so slightly to approach her. There were quite a few people around, busy people on their way to work...no one looked twice at Lecter. Or Starling, for that matter.
Clarice kept up her steady and brisk walk, unaware that someone was following her. She kept her head down and her jacket pulled tightly around her. As she past the police station in the rough, busy law district and neared the Behavioral Sciences building, Lecter caught up to her.
Sliding right up against her body, making it look as if he had only accidentally collided with the pedestrian, he hissed a few words into a startled Clarice Starling's ear.
"You should get more rest, Clarice...you look dead on your feet."
As he said this, he quickly extracted from his pocket the small black device and slid it smoothly into the side pocket of Clarice's long, black jacket. She had not noticed, she was too busy staring at the face that was only inches from her own.
"Dr. Lecter..." she breathed. "What--" she began but Lecter only remained long enough to give her a small smile and then he sped up, turned the corner on the upcoming block and vanished.
Clarice broke into a run and left the few yards from where she had been to the intersection on the next street behind her. She looked around frantically; searching for where he had went. The stoplight above her suddenly flashed green and the traffic started up and zoomed along, breaking any chance for a sight of him. Still hopeful, she stood on her tiptoes to look above the traffic, but it was no use. Clarice lowered her hand from her gun in the holster on her belt. It was too late...he was gone.