See previous chapters for disclaimers.
A/N: Thank-you for the kind reviews; they were very much appreciated as always. I was in the process of posting this last night when my computer realised it had been more than 10 minutes since the last time it crashed, lol, so I didn't get the chance. A few sharp kicks later…well here it is! Enjoy!
He listened to the small click that signalled he was alone in the house, and released the breath he had been holding since she had made her slow journey down the hall.
Laying his hand on her scrap of paper, he gently ran his fingers over her writing, feeling the rise and fall of the ink as she had excitedly jotted her findings down. He sat back looking towards the window, watching as pigeons chased each other over the steeple of the nearly church. The house was deathly quiet, something he had always found comfort in. But things were different now.
When had they changed so dramatically? , he thought. When had the sweet bliss of silence been replaced with the need to hear her steady breathing and gentle sounds of motion float through the house? When had the need to be always alone, been replaced with wanting to have her at his side at all times? When had his own safety become second to hers?
He quickly stood and began pacing the room, his hands deep in his pockets, his eyes showing the inner conflict he was going through. Why did she have to track him down? Why didn't she leave things as they were? His face grew cold as his temper flared. Why couldn't she have stayed away…
He stopped in his tracks, his breathing a little faster, and studied the desk she had been using as her study. She was everywhere now, he thought sadly. In his home, in his head, and worse of all… in his heart. He both cursed her and loved her for the day she walked into his life.
Sighing he took one last look around the room, coating his lungs with her still lingering sent and made his way morosely to the living room, stopping at the window to see which direction she was going in.
He caught sight of him almost immediately. The dark shadow that walked along the far wall was moving with purpose. His movements were carefully executed, his steps equally measured, his intentions ringing clear in Dr Lecter's head. He knew this because he had made an art of it.
Spinning around he calmly made his way to the front door, pulling it open and stepping quietly into the night air.
The hand was cold as it stuck her, silencing the scream that had arisen in her throat. She thought distantly that it might have taken away the sting of his open palm hitting her cheek. It didn't. Falling to the ground in an undignified heap, she was proud that she hadn't cried out. Her breathing was heavy and her body shook as she felt the same hand twist in her hair, every strand screaming in protest as she was hauled to her feet. A traitorous whimper left her mouth as she felt her arm forced behind her back, her shoulder burning with pain as she was twisted so that her back was pressed hard against him. The hand that suddenly covered her mouth seemed to be colder than the other, and she could detect the sweet smell of tobacco from the fingers under her noise. Tears had begun to roll down her cheeks, warm against her cold pale face. She hadn't even realised that they were moving, she was lost in her own thoughts, thinking of the irony involved is this was indeed her end. Murdered.
" Good evening"
The sudden voice from behind them caused her to cry out and she began wriggling in earnest to free herself, biting down hard on the hand that had partially slipped from the sudden intrusion. The large man groaned in pain as her sharp teeth sunk into his index finger, and she soon found herself lying once more on the ground, her head meeting sharply with the pavement.
The Italian spun to face the man that had dared interrupt him. Holding his bleeding finger to his mouth, he spoke roughly, his English thick from his natural Italian accent.
" Fuck off!" he spat, moving a few paces back despite his size.
Dr Lecter tilted his head as he studied the man before him. He could see Emily lying on the ground at his feet, still closer to the man than himself.
" Emily stand up," he ordered, his voice remaining cool, but the tone razor sharp.
"So this is your little slut?" the Italian laughed, not noticing the darkening in the smaller mans eyes.
Emily carefully stood, the motion causing a wave of nausea to sliver through her. The dull throbbing in her head was put to the side, and she looked up to her father with terrified eyes.
" Walk away Emily," he instructed, his eyes never leaving the Italians. The Italian looked from Dr Lecter to Emily as she slowly began to stagger away from him. In this moment he didn't see the silver blade slip easily into the doctors waiting hand.
More soon!
A/N: Thank-you for the kind reviews; they were very much appreciated as always. I was in the process of posting this last night when my computer realised it had been more than 10 minutes since the last time it crashed, lol, so I didn't get the chance. A few sharp kicks later…well here it is! Enjoy!
He listened to the small click that signalled he was alone in the house, and released the breath he had been holding since she had made her slow journey down the hall.
Laying his hand on her scrap of paper, he gently ran his fingers over her writing, feeling the rise and fall of the ink as she had excitedly jotted her findings down. He sat back looking towards the window, watching as pigeons chased each other over the steeple of the nearly church. The house was deathly quiet, something he had always found comfort in. But things were different now.
When had they changed so dramatically? , he thought. When had the sweet bliss of silence been replaced with the need to hear her steady breathing and gentle sounds of motion float through the house? When had the need to be always alone, been replaced with wanting to have her at his side at all times? When had his own safety become second to hers?
He quickly stood and began pacing the room, his hands deep in his pockets, his eyes showing the inner conflict he was going through. Why did she have to track him down? Why didn't she leave things as they were? His face grew cold as his temper flared. Why couldn't she have stayed away…
He stopped in his tracks, his breathing a little faster, and studied the desk she had been using as her study. She was everywhere now, he thought sadly. In his home, in his head, and worse of all… in his heart. He both cursed her and loved her for the day she walked into his life.
Sighing he took one last look around the room, coating his lungs with her still lingering sent and made his way morosely to the living room, stopping at the window to see which direction she was going in.
He caught sight of him almost immediately. The dark shadow that walked along the far wall was moving with purpose. His movements were carefully executed, his steps equally measured, his intentions ringing clear in Dr Lecter's head. He knew this because he had made an art of it.
Spinning around he calmly made his way to the front door, pulling it open and stepping quietly into the night air.
The hand was cold as it stuck her, silencing the scream that had arisen in her throat. She thought distantly that it might have taken away the sting of his open palm hitting her cheek. It didn't. Falling to the ground in an undignified heap, she was proud that she hadn't cried out. Her breathing was heavy and her body shook as she felt the same hand twist in her hair, every strand screaming in protest as she was hauled to her feet. A traitorous whimper left her mouth as she felt her arm forced behind her back, her shoulder burning with pain as she was twisted so that her back was pressed hard against him. The hand that suddenly covered her mouth seemed to be colder than the other, and she could detect the sweet smell of tobacco from the fingers under her noise. Tears had begun to roll down her cheeks, warm against her cold pale face. She hadn't even realised that they were moving, she was lost in her own thoughts, thinking of the irony involved is this was indeed her end. Murdered.
" Good evening"
The sudden voice from behind them caused her to cry out and she began wriggling in earnest to free herself, biting down hard on the hand that had partially slipped from the sudden intrusion. The large man groaned in pain as her sharp teeth sunk into his index finger, and she soon found herself lying once more on the ground, her head meeting sharply with the pavement.
The Italian spun to face the man that had dared interrupt him. Holding his bleeding finger to his mouth, he spoke roughly, his English thick from his natural Italian accent.
" Fuck off!" he spat, moving a few paces back despite his size.
Dr Lecter tilted his head as he studied the man before him. He could see Emily lying on the ground at his feet, still closer to the man than himself.
" Emily stand up," he ordered, his voice remaining cool, but the tone razor sharp.
"So this is your little slut?" the Italian laughed, not noticing the darkening in the smaller mans eyes.
Emily carefully stood, the motion causing a wave of nausea to sliver through her. The dull throbbing in her head was put to the side, and she looked up to her father with terrified eyes.
" Walk away Emily," he instructed, his eyes never leaving the Italians. The Italian looked from Dr Lecter to Emily as she slowly began to stagger away from him. In this moment he didn't see the silver blade slip easily into the doctors waiting hand.
More soon!