DISCLAIMER: Don't make any profit: they're not mine. The end.
TIMELINE: after Hannibal the movie
AUTHOR'S NOTE: The music I was listening to while I wrote this was 'The Burning Heart' from the Hannibal soundtrack. This one may not have a big plot but I think it's quite nice in the descriptions. All reviews are very appreciated.
Burning HeartsBY JANE MOSS
Clarice did not hear her door open smoothly. Did not notice the soft glow of the candles around her extinguish one by one. Did not wake from his presence as his eyes took in the delicious sight of her. It pleased him she had kept the dress, as he could guess that the decision tormented the back of her mind. Her skin looked beautifully pale in the dark moonlight and he had to hold himself from moving any closer, as his present position provided him with the whole view of her; relaxed and almost slumped in the corner of her sofa. He stood over her for a long moment listening to her soft breathing and letting his eyes roam her stillness, before he concentrated his attentions to the rest of the room.
Turning he took in the whole room at a glance. Everything looked wonderfully calm and dormant, save for her warm presence. Dr Lecter ran his elegant hand over a small table in the corner and found no dust. She had indeed been spring-cleaning. Now he could almost pick out the smell of detergent in the still air. It was such a degrading job for her. Part of the floor was covered with the cold remains of her anger in shape of shattered glass. It was the only evidence of disturbance in the room. Leaving the broken pieces for now he looked up. Several books were piled on a cupboard. He soundlessly picked up the top one - "Dante's Inferno", he smiled, pleased with her choice. It seemed she had tried to study his tastes. Other than that her living room looked quite innocent. He moved onto the kitchen, which felt rather abandoned, with almost everything in its place, untouched. Somehow he knew the pans and plates were hardly used at all. What a shame she almost never took the time to cook. He checked her near-empty cupboards and looked disapprovingly at the soups in powder form. She was certainly in need of food by his definition. From the look of her kitchen he was displeased she hadn't been eating right. Dr Lecter opened the first drawer to find her cutlery, the second held her gun under a few kitchen towels. He did not hold back the slow light grin of amusement from spreading over his face. Walking past the living room he listened to her even breath before moving towards the stairs.
Upstairs, her bathroom revealed nothing unusual. He looked at the two nearly empty bottles of what he regarded as cheap shampoo. 'Tsk, tsk, Clarice… still the old habits' he mused, thinking of what attention her coppery hair deserved, and reached into his pocket to retrieve a bottle of jasmine bath oil, placing it carefully on the towels and softly spreading any creases until he easily achieved perfection. He smiled slightly picturing her panic the next morning. It was most intriguing to see inside her house as it had some likeness to her complicated mind, his most prized obsession.
The door to her bedroom was slightly open as he approached it with his usual grace, carefully nudging it open with his hand before stepping inside. To his disappointment it only smelled of clean bed sheets and he knew Clarice did not spend much time in the room. Hardly any belongings were left on the dresser and the room somehow craved attention. Looking closer he found a single framed photograph and he picked it up to examine further. The man was dressed in his police uniform and the girl had Clarice's eyes, only difference was the happiness which filled them. A naïve innocent happiness of a child. Before it was ripped away. He put it back down. Dr Lecter stored the image into his memory palace to contemplate on further and saw Clarice look at this picture on many sleepless nights, remembering her brief childhood. Feeling needed and loved. Come to think of it, the room reeked of un-loved bitterness she felt late at night. Her regret. She still longed for it didn't she? Under her tough exterior, behind her steel weapon, she was still that young girl who wanted the same things. And he would give it to her.
Dr Lecter stepped out into the small corridor and headed towards the last room of the house. The curtains were drawn and the room appeared unusually dark. He was not a man to be discomforted by the darkness; instead he found its soft stillness appealing to the eye. The doctor stepped deeper into the blackness and gently pulled back the curtains, letting the room bathe in the moon's soft glow. A papier-mâché of bloody scenes. Crime scene photos. Old pages from books. Newspaper cuttings. Along with small notes on yellow stickers, stared back at him from the entire wall. At the center was his own mug shot attached with three pins. He stood for a long time bend over the collection centered only around him, letting his eyes roam every corner, reveling in her obsession of him. 'What would the bureau think?' he mused, 'Clarice…'. Inwardly relishing at the idea of her guilt at the extensive collection locked away in her house. He could almost see her sitting in this dark room bent over papers and computer screens… searching for a taste of him. He closed his eyes deeply inhaling her scent. Her skin… hand cream… pepperoni pizza… a tinge of sweat… something sweet… He turned back to the door, softly exhaling his breath. He saw a rose appearing a deep red in the light, with a large bud and a short stem, so that it fit perfectly into the water-filled glass which held it. He came closer bending down to inhale its sweet scent once again, before running his fingers up the smooth petals. Dr Lecter wondered briefly how the flower, which was so evidently out of place, had found its way here. Clarice was still full of surprises.
He would come back to look at things more thoroughly but for now this would have to do. Dr Lecter descended the stairs and reentered the living room, his steps very slow, very measured and without a sound.
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AUTHOR'S NOTE: I couldn't help writing the next chapter! Usually I have to force it! Thank you for the reviews. I will definitely finish this one soon. – Jane:)