~These characters do not belong to me. Well, most of them do not, anyway.
Sadly, they belong to Tom Harris, and his wonderful mind. I hope I portray
the characters correctly. Don't sue me.I've got nothing to give if you
asked.~
CHAPTER ONE- TAKEN
The sour, burning liquid made its way dowd her throat, burning the tissue and numbing the senses. It was only one shot, but it was enough to follow the three before it. Vodka was never her thing-she'd always preferred rum and coke- but tonight she needed something more.
Well, she knew what she needed, but that was very irrelevant at the moment. A cruel, painless smile crept onto her face as she felt the hot mixture settle in her stomach and crash through her mind.
The only company she wanted tonight was her own, and now that she'd been convinced that she wouldn't get any visitors in the night, she was happy to crawl into bed at three in the morning and sleep late into the afternoon the next day.
Tonight, she craved a midnight.something. She craved it, but she knew nothing would hunt her down. Why now, after five years, did she finally agree to cat and mouse? Maybe because she knew if she did, she wouldn't have to follow through. That must be it, she thought. The only thing she'd ever followed through on was her work.and even now it was questionable.
Who else had so much trouble finding the one thing that was suppose to seek them out? She didn't want him to, or at least not tonight. Were she to see him while she was wasted, boy, she'd never again see the light of day. She had a few choice things to say to him, and she doubted she could protect herself after she said them if liquor was running through her veins like an agent in the woods on a Saturday morning.
Oh God.She was already resorting to puns to amuse herself. Where had Delia gone, anyway? Her blurry vision made its way across the room, scanning the part of the kitchen that she could see as best as she could.
A nice thought crossed her mind. Had he seen her tonight, he wouldn't have recognized her. A thirty-eight year old woman sitting in her living toom, looking like a sixteen year old girl. No, he'd never seen her like this.well, never in life, anyway. She couldn't control his thinking, after all, and she was very sure that he'd seen her as a child and a teenager. Had he, in fact, ever seen her as a woman?
That thought actually managed to sober her enough to register both anger and resentment. She reached up to run a hand through her hair, and almost laughed when she remembered it was pulled back. She shook her head and decided that cold water was a must, and sliding off of the couch, (very unsteadily, mind you), she made her way to the rest room.
The dark hallway shocked her.the rest of the house was so well lit. Maybe the bathroom was a bad idea. She leaned against the wall, closing her eyes. Oh, was it a bad idea. A sound came from the stairway that sounded both like talking and an animal of some kind.
Her brow furrowed. Was someone talking to her?
She turned around, still supported by the wall. Her eyes opened, only to see the blur of the empty, dark hallway before her.
"Hello?"
Was that her voice? Was she really slurring her words like that? Uh oh. She needed sleep.fast.
Even if it where him, he would never come in if he saw her. He would think it was a friend of hers, or Delia's, and leave well enough alone.
Her hair wasn't red anymore, it was pitch black, and down to just about her upper thigh. Her eyes wore contacts, brown ones to be exact, and she was dressed like a young girl. Her shirt said "I'm Up Here!" across the chest, with an arrow pointing to her face, and her pants where a faded blue, belling at the ankles. No.No one could have recognized her tonight.
There it was. That noise again. She tried to think of two possible reasons for it.
The voice didn't sound familiar to her. Neither did the name. The word Doctor sparked her for a moment, but the spark was doused with water the instant she heard the noise. Why should he fall into her lap? He would never make it that easy. Then again, how could he? She'd even moved out of her old house.
Out of her old mind.
She'd been booted out of the FBI totally after they'd found her at that lake house, dressed as if she wanted to be there. Maybe she did.
An orange and white blur approached her on the floor. She narrowed her eyes as it got closer, it's face coming into focus a little more clearly now. If she didn't know any better, she'd say that it was Miko, Delia's old cat. But, being in her current.condition, she didn't want to pass judgment until she saw this thing when she was sober. A loud crash sounded behind her, and she spun around, her blood rushing through her head faster than the liquor had.
She felt dizzy and sick to the stomach almost instantly.
She felt herself falling backwards, and closed her eyes, fully aware that the floor would probably hurt ten times more than the headache she would have the next morning.
She slammed into the floor.and it felt warm and soft. It felt alive.like it was breathing. What the hell? She looked up and her heart almost stopped. There was a huge blur of brown, black, and white. It was a person. No, it was a man.
"H.hey. What're you do.doin?"
"Shh. Be quiet."
Her skin was pale and she could feel the cold sweat starting to form. She needed to stop thinking so much.she needed to pass out for a while. A liquor induced coma-one that she couldn't dream as she entered and exited. It sounded to her like something next to Heaven. Anything compared to this Hell she was in right now was worth the trip. Her feet stumbled over one another as she tried to pull away from him.
"Now, now, calm down Agent Starling. You'll be alright. Just come with me and you'll be fine in the morning."
She registered his accent as English. Heavy English. She couldn't think anymore. Couldn't move.
No. NO! She couldn't pass out now. In the bathroom maybe, but not in this strangers arms. He was pulling her through a door. Shoving her inside a car.
A car?!
Wait a second. Wake up girl, come on.
"N.no. L."
She felt her arms being tied up behind her back and her face being shoved down into a plush seat. A backseat. Oh God. It made her sick to the stomach, and she turned her head, allowing the liquor to come back up, burning her throat once again, numbing her senses. She was losing it fast.
She felt the back door shut against the soles of her shoes and her ears started to pound. She could hear and feel her heartbeat in them. Why had she gotten drunk tonight? Why did she trust that her career would honestly NOT get any worse? Who the hell was the man who now had her in the back of his car.or van.or truck. No, not truck. She was almost surely on a plush seat. And she could feel that the handcuffs where smaller than they where suppose to be. A child's toy. She was being held captive by a child's toy? Her head hurt.
She could hear the man in the front huff. She was suppose to be dead by now. She groaned out, trying to form words, but it didn't work. Only sounds, like primitive grunts, came out. She didn't want to die like this. Unknown. Unloved. Where the hell was Delia, anyway?
Everything started to get dark before that question was answered. God, her stomach hurt. This was worse than a Sunday morning hangover. The pain, the darkness. She wished she had the chance to catch Doctor Lecter. That's why she was even here, after all. Damn the FBI. She'd never see.Ugh. Her stomach threw one more ounce of liquor back up at her before her mind went blank, and the world fell down around her, leaving her in nothing but the deep black void of nothing.
The driver in the front seat hadn't anticipated on her being drunk. That complicated things a bit. For one, she wouldn't remember being taken. That, and he'd wanted to talk to her before this.
His car started to smell of foul, human regurgitation combined with cheap liquor. He guessed it was Rum. It usually was. Rum and coke. She loved routines, didn't she? No matter, he would tell her what this was all about when she awoke. Until then, he had a few things to do.
CHAPTER ONE- TAKEN
The sour, burning liquid made its way dowd her throat, burning the tissue and numbing the senses. It was only one shot, but it was enough to follow the three before it. Vodka was never her thing-she'd always preferred rum and coke- but tonight she needed something more.
Well, she knew what she needed, but that was very irrelevant at the moment. A cruel, painless smile crept onto her face as she felt the hot mixture settle in her stomach and crash through her mind.
The only company she wanted tonight was her own, and now that she'd been convinced that she wouldn't get any visitors in the night, she was happy to crawl into bed at three in the morning and sleep late into the afternoon the next day.
Tonight, she craved a midnight.something. She craved it, but she knew nothing would hunt her down. Why now, after five years, did she finally agree to cat and mouse? Maybe because she knew if she did, she wouldn't have to follow through. That must be it, she thought. The only thing she'd ever followed through on was her work.and even now it was questionable.
Who else had so much trouble finding the one thing that was suppose to seek them out? She didn't want him to, or at least not tonight. Were she to see him while she was wasted, boy, she'd never again see the light of day. She had a few choice things to say to him, and she doubted she could protect herself after she said them if liquor was running through her veins like an agent in the woods on a Saturday morning.
Oh God.She was already resorting to puns to amuse herself. Where had Delia gone, anyway? Her blurry vision made its way across the room, scanning the part of the kitchen that she could see as best as she could.
A nice thought crossed her mind. Had he seen her tonight, he wouldn't have recognized her. A thirty-eight year old woman sitting in her living toom, looking like a sixteen year old girl. No, he'd never seen her like this.well, never in life, anyway. She couldn't control his thinking, after all, and she was very sure that he'd seen her as a child and a teenager. Had he, in fact, ever seen her as a woman?
That thought actually managed to sober her enough to register both anger and resentment. She reached up to run a hand through her hair, and almost laughed when she remembered it was pulled back. She shook her head and decided that cold water was a must, and sliding off of the couch, (very unsteadily, mind you), she made her way to the rest room.
The dark hallway shocked her.the rest of the house was so well lit. Maybe the bathroom was a bad idea. She leaned against the wall, closing her eyes. Oh, was it a bad idea. A sound came from the stairway that sounded both like talking and an animal of some kind.
Her brow furrowed. Was someone talking to her?
She turned around, still supported by the wall. Her eyes opened, only to see the blur of the empty, dark hallway before her.
"Hello?"
Was that her voice? Was she really slurring her words like that? Uh oh. She needed sleep.fast.
Even if it where him, he would never come in if he saw her. He would think it was a friend of hers, or Delia's, and leave well enough alone.
Her hair wasn't red anymore, it was pitch black, and down to just about her upper thigh. Her eyes wore contacts, brown ones to be exact, and she was dressed like a young girl. Her shirt said "I'm Up Here!" across the chest, with an arrow pointing to her face, and her pants where a faded blue, belling at the ankles. No.No one could have recognized her tonight.
There it was. That noise again. She tried to think of two possible reasons for it.
The voice didn't sound familiar to her. Neither did the name. The word Doctor sparked her for a moment, but the spark was doused with water the instant she heard the noise. Why should he fall into her lap? He would never make it that easy. Then again, how could he? She'd even moved out of her old house.
Out of her old mind.
She'd been booted out of the FBI totally after they'd found her at that lake house, dressed as if she wanted to be there. Maybe she did.
An orange and white blur approached her on the floor. She narrowed her eyes as it got closer, it's face coming into focus a little more clearly now. If she didn't know any better, she'd say that it was Miko, Delia's old cat. But, being in her current.condition, she didn't want to pass judgment until she saw this thing when she was sober. A loud crash sounded behind her, and she spun around, her blood rushing through her head faster than the liquor had.
She felt dizzy and sick to the stomach almost instantly.
She felt herself falling backwards, and closed her eyes, fully aware that the floor would probably hurt ten times more than the headache she would have the next morning.
She slammed into the floor.and it felt warm and soft. It felt alive.like it was breathing. What the hell? She looked up and her heart almost stopped. There was a huge blur of brown, black, and white. It was a person. No, it was a man.
"H.hey. What're you do.doin?"
"Shh. Be quiet."
Her skin was pale and she could feel the cold sweat starting to form. She needed to stop thinking so much.she needed to pass out for a while. A liquor induced coma-one that she couldn't dream as she entered and exited. It sounded to her like something next to Heaven. Anything compared to this Hell she was in right now was worth the trip. Her feet stumbled over one another as she tried to pull away from him.
"Now, now, calm down Agent Starling. You'll be alright. Just come with me and you'll be fine in the morning."
She registered his accent as English. Heavy English. She couldn't think anymore. Couldn't move.
No. NO! She couldn't pass out now. In the bathroom maybe, but not in this strangers arms. He was pulling her through a door. Shoving her inside a car.
A car?!
Wait a second. Wake up girl, come on.
"N.no. L."
She felt her arms being tied up behind her back and her face being shoved down into a plush seat. A backseat. Oh God. It made her sick to the stomach, and she turned her head, allowing the liquor to come back up, burning her throat once again, numbing her senses. She was losing it fast.
She felt the back door shut against the soles of her shoes and her ears started to pound. She could hear and feel her heartbeat in them. Why had she gotten drunk tonight? Why did she trust that her career would honestly NOT get any worse? Who the hell was the man who now had her in the back of his car.or van.or truck. No, not truck. She was almost surely on a plush seat. And she could feel that the handcuffs where smaller than they where suppose to be. A child's toy. She was being held captive by a child's toy? Her head hurt.
She could hear the man in the front huff. She was suppose to be dead by now. She groaned out, trying to form words, but it didn't work. Only sounds, like primitive grunts, came out. She didn't want to die like this. Unknown. Unloved. Where the hell was Delia, anyway?
Everything started to get dark before that question was answered. God, her stomach hurt. This was worse than a Sunday morning hangover. The pain, the darkness. She wished she had the chance to catch Doctor Lecter. That's why she was even here, after all. Damn the FBI. She'd never see.Ugh. Her stomach threw one more ounce of liquor back up at her before her mind went blank, and the world fell down around her, leaving her in nothing but the deep black void of nothing.
The driver in the front seat hadn't anticipated on her being drunk. That complicated things a bit. For one, she wouldn't remember being taken. That, and he'd wanted to talk to her before this.
His car started to smell of foul, human regurgitation combined with cheap liquor. He guessed it was Rum. It usually was. Rum and coke. She loved routines, didn't she? No matter, he would tell her what this was all about when she awoke. Until then, he had a few things to do.