Here's the next installment. Enjoy!
Add the usual: I didn't make these folks up, really I didn't!
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"Oh my god! Dr. Lecter!" Clarice gasped in shock. Her outstretched arm came to rest on his chest as she stared down into his eyes, her hair caressing his cheek. He was silent as she tried to process her shock. After the vivid dream she had just awoken from she couldn't place the time or circumstances. Her head was whirling with garbled irrational thoughts.
Maybe he isn't a criminal and I'm not an FBI agent.
Of course I'm an FBI agent, what else would I be?
That makes him a psychotic mass murderer.
I have a psychotic mass murderer in my bed.
Now the question is does it beat sleeping alone?
Shut up stupid!
What happens now?
Was the lake house a dream?
Was Verger's a dream?
No, shoulder hurts – I was shot!
Paul Krendler? Ummmm…
Oh god, I can't think anymore!
Clarice was panting softly, shaking her head from side to side, and trying to separate incredible fantasy from unbelievable reality in the middle of the dark night. She just couldn't make the last twenty-four hours come straight in her head and she was beginning to panic. Dr. Lecter realized this and brought his other hand to the back of her head, encouraging her to rest it on his chest. To hold her shaking form was delightful, but he knew his continued good health depended on her state of mind in the next few moments.
"Shhhh, Clarice…" he whispered in her ear as he stroked her hair. "You're fine. Talk to me," he entreated.
"I dreamt… I dreamt…" Clarice stuttered as the tears started.
"It's ok. What did you dream? Was it the lambs again?" he asked quietly.
"No." she was sobbing now. "I don't know what was the dream and what was real. I came to get you at Verger's and I was shot… and then I woke up… and Paul …and then you drove me home… and slept on the couch… and then Pearsall fired me… and then you came… and the handcuffs… and you made breakfast… and they were going to shoot you… and I…" she trailed off, unable to tell him what she had done in her dream. The doctor noticed this but didn't push for an answer. There would be time for that later – he hoped. The arm that was wrapped around her waist, shifted until his hand came in contact with her soft side, just below her ribs, where he took a firm grasp and pinched her sharply. She squealed and rolled away from him back to her own side of the bed.
"Do you believe that you are awake now?" he asked sharply, leaning up on his left elbow to look over at her. The sun was almost at the horizon and the predawn light from the window behind him illuminated her features, while they left his in shadow.
"Yes," she hissed rubbing her injured side.
"Good, because I'm going to tell you a little story. Ready? You were shot at Verger's, I brought you home and took the bullet out. We had supper with Mr. Krendler, which you did not partake in but Paul seemed to enjoy very much. You attempted to bash me over the head with a candlestick in the kitchen, which I prevented by clamping your hair in the fridge. You attempted to detain me but, with the police closing in, I had to run. A young officer provided me with my escape route in the form of your escort. I drove you home, brought you inside and tucked you into bed." He paused in his narrative for Clarice to take note of the fact that she had been changed into her pajamas, and although Dr. Lecter was in bed with her, she was under the covers and while he was lying on top still fully clothed.
"I did not sleep on the couch. It's been at least six hours since I've seen a pair of handcuffs. Pearsall hasn't fired you. I will cook breakfast if you like. And nobody is going to shoot me," yet he added silently watching the emotions play over her face as he ticked off the points of her dream on his right hand. As she processed the information he provided for her, her breathing slowed and he could feel her relaxing into the bed.
"Quid pro quo, Clarice," he stated, and immediately felt her tense again.
"What do you want to know?" she asked in a soft but firm voice.
"Tell me the rest of your dream," he prompted. Clarice closed her eyes wondering which would be worse; telling him or refusing.
She felt him shift on the bed, and realized that he was trying to maneuver so that he could catch her if she tried to run. Funny, the thought hadn't even occurred to her. She decided he'd find out one way or another so she took a breath to begin her narrative.
"Wise decision my dear," he murmured, causing her eyes to snap open, which was just what he wanted. He caught her gaze and held it as she told him of the SWAT team and her actions leading up to their deaths.
"That's very interesting Clarice," he commented when she finished. "I believe that I may be able to offer some insight into the state of mind that would provoke such images, but I think that we have company," he stated.
At first Clarice looked confused until she realized someone was in the hall. For an instant, she feared that her dream was about to become reality until she heard an all too familiar voice call out to her,
"Clarice? It's Jack."
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Next bit soon, promise, luna.
