See previous chapters for disclaimers
A/n: Next chapter should be posted pretty soon, thanks very much to everyone for the kind reviews.
He sat in darkness, at the edge of the bed, facing the door, his elbows resting on his knees and his eyes, glittery in the little light cast from the window, stared unblinkingly at the door itself. At his feet was a small dark bag, it's robust appearance interrupted by sharp points that strained the material, almost to the point of breaking through. He was also cloaked in black, black dress trousers, black short sleeved t-shirt, black watch strapped tightly to his wrist, in fact, if it wasn't for the shine reflected in his eyes, a stranger entering the room would have walked straight past him, as he blended so well into the shadowy surroundings. The stillness of the room was interrupted then by a tiny beep. A small electronic pulse that alerted him the time had come and the waiting was over. The mattress groaned half heartedly as he stood, and he allowed himself a few seconds of stretching to allow the blood to circulate to his now stiff muscles before he lifted his bag and strode with purpose towards the door.
Clarice flickered back to the waking world with a sudden rush, her ears immediately pinpointing what had interrupted her sleep. A soft rolling snore came every few seconds from the other side of the bed and she couldn't help the snort of abrupt laughter, which was quickly silenced by her own hand covering her mouth. He snored. 'Well I'll be damned' she whispered, her throat constricting once more as he, as if in reply, produced a rather loud snort which seemed to disturb even him as he shifted under the blankets with a contented sigh, before the soft rumble began again. Her mouth twitched as she imagined what his reply would be when she brought to his attention his rudeness the following morning. If was of course possible that he didn't snore every night, she couldn't remember him snoring the night he had stayed in her old house, he was after all, she admitted, exhausted, even if he wouldn't admit it, she knew he hadn't slept at all that night and he had done his fair share of the driving. Settling back to the pillows she was just about to let sleep come once again when a soft noise outside the front door pulled her back. It wasn't a knock, more of a scratch she thought, like the sound her aunt's cat had made when he wanted back into the warmth of the house. She strained her ears and listened over the rumble to her right to see if she could hear anything else. She had just about given up hope and was ready to lay back down when another scratch filled the room, slightly louder this time, but not loud enough to wake the man lying next to her. Frowning she considered what to do. She could nudge Hannibal and sent him to investigate, that idea was scrubbed immediately, what the hell would that accomplish except maybe reinforce the fact she was a Looney, not just any Looney, a frightened of the dark, imagination ran wild, raving Looney. Yeah, that's just what she wanted a psychiatrist to summarise, as if she didn't have enough to worry about at the moment. Second plan it would be then, she thought with a tiny tendril of trepidation, she would go and investigate the Steven King like noises herself. On her own. In the dark. With the Scratching. She paused halfway out of the bed, scrunched up her face, and then reached for the harpy she had slid into the pillowcase. Better to be safe than sorry. Sliding out of the bed in a whisper of fabric she paused and was relieved to hear the gurgle continue from the blankets and turned towards the door. The light cast from the windows was a sickly yellow, dim and depressing, but strong enough to see where everything was in the room and more importantly, what was just outside it. Stepping lightly she made her way first to the window and ever so slowly peeled back the light grey netting enough to see the other side of the door. Nothing. Just the worn walkway and the car park beyond. She could only see from the doorknob upwards and again her mind toyed with the idea of a stray cat or animal, seeking warmth and shelter. She dismissed the idea with a roll of the eyes and was slowly making her way back to the bed when she again stopped at the sound of a quiet scratch. Sighing silently she tip toed back to the door and with the utmost care slowly twisted the key, listening to the slight click that signalled the door was unlocked. Glancing back to the bed the figure wrapped snugly did not move and she was relieved, if he had woken, she didn't relish the idea of telling him her current actions. With time and patience she worked the doorknob south and with a small click and the tiniest breeze the door cracked open to reveal the outside world. Opening it a fraction more Clarice looked expectantly downwards, seeing only the sandstone concrete of a path that was well used. The breeze brought Goosebumps to her skin and she decided that her curiosity would have to take a back seat to her creature comforts, she wanted to be warm and she wasn't going to achieve that searching for phantom cats. Shaking her head, she began to close the door slowly when a slight scuffle just outside caused to stop. This was insane. Fighting with herself for all of two seconds she eventually opened the door just enough to squeeze outside and look down the path. This would drive her crazy if she didn't find out what it was. Looking to her right immediately didn't produce any answers; it was when she looked to the left that everything suddenly became clear. The barrel of a gun pointed at her face was enough to shed some light on the situation.
Clarice stood frozen, one hand still attached to the doorknob, the other held tightly round her waist as if to keep any warmth she still had left inside her body. The barrel that was aimed between her eyes was steady, so was the hand that held it, but she couldn't see much more than that. The person holding the gun was hidden in the shadows created by the slightly open door, the blackness enveloping them so it looked eerily to her that the gun and hand where somehow floating in mid air. Several seconds had past and it took only that small amount of time for Clarice to review every option she had, and just as quick to scrub them. She couldn't call for Hannibal, she would be dead before the last syllable left her mouth, and so would he be shortly after. She couldn't brandish the weapon she had in her waistband, she would be dead before she could grasp it, and she couldn't fight her way out of it, she would be dead before her hand made contact with the gun.
" Step away from the door"
Clarice didn't recognise the voice and wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing. She had been trained to deal with situations like this and knew that she should obey his commands until either help arrived or she saw an opportunity to deal with it herself. It was; ironically, with thoughts of Quantico that she slowly let go of the doorknob and took a silent step forward. She watched then as the shadow gained some structure, a shoulder, a leg and the side of his head was all she was rewarded with as he delicately closed the door; effectively closing off the only person that would notice she was missing.
" Turn around and walk to the end of the walkway. Try anything and I'll pull the trigger."
Clarice didn't pick up any accent, any tremor or more worryingly, any emotion in his voice. He didn't sound happy to have her, nor nervous, just a level baritone which gave nothing. Walking on the pads of her bare feet, Clarice paused at the end of the row of doors and waited warily for the next instruction. She didn't wait long.
" Turn right. Walk."
Clarice must have hesitated slightly when she saw the blackness that waited for her as she soon felt the barrel dig uncomfortably into the back of her neck causing her to stumble forward slightly. Resisting the primal urge to either turn and attack or scream she walked at a steady pace in the direction he had indicated, her face twisting slightly as gravel and sharp pebbles bit into the soles of her feet. Her eyes began to make out objects ahead as her vision adjusted to the blackness. She could make out a building of some sort, tall but narrow, wooden, she surmised it was probably a storage area for the hotel itself. There were random shadows surrounding it, and as she grew closer she could make them out as old pieces of burnt out junk, pieces of cars, farming equipment and furniture.
" Stop"
Clarice stopped as instructed and resisted the urge to turn her head. Instead she mouthed one of the million questions that were buzzing through her brain.
" Who are you?"
The sting of something hard and heavy hitting the back of her head was enough to bring tears to her eyes, but not enough to render her unconscious. She fell to one knee, her head swimming, her hand slowly coming to rest gingerly on the back of her skull.
" Do not speak unless asked to. Stand up."
Clarice afforded herself a moment to get her vision cleared before she attempted to stand, her legs felt weak and unsteady and the hand that had previously nursed her head sported a large patch of deep red. Digging her fingers into the mixture of sand and gravel she pushed herself upright, staggering only slightly as her brain settled back into its place.
" Put your hands behind your back" came the voice again, seemingly out of the blackness.
Clarice bit her bottom lip as she considered what to do. If she was restrained her options were severely limited, and any chance she had to stop whatever this man wanted with her were also cut in half. If she resisted.well, she already knew he had no qualms in hurting her, just how much she was not sure she wanted to risk finding out. She didn't get a chance to think it over any longer however because a sudden force, which she guessed was his boot, came in contact with the back of her knee, sending her sprawling face fist in the pebbles. She could feel her face sting as she lay slightly panting, and a deep pain radiated from her leg. She decided then that whatever happened she was going to give some of that pain back to him by the end of the night.
" Put your hands behind your back"
This time she could hear anger in his voice and decided that putting her hands behind her back was not going to hurt her, whereas if she refused, well, that meant more pain. She slowly dragged her hands across the gravel till they were resting crossed across the low of her back. She couldn't see anything from her vantage point on the dusty ground, but she soon felt his presence when a strong grip forced her hands further up her back, causing a small groan to be released from her throat. The unmistakable feel of cool metal then as he handcuffed her, and again her shoulders screamed in protest as he pulled her arms in a signal to stand. Stumbling to her feet Clarice was again faced with the wooden building she had come to associate with feelings of dread. A shove of the shoulder from behind and she was walking towards it again, her bare feet dragging across the ground in what felt like the long walk to the executioners.
" Stop"
She stopped in front of the wooden door and watched as he slowly appeared to her right. She still couldn't make out any features due to the surrounding dark, but she could see his build better and she decided he didn't look any bigger than Dr Lecter did, although that said, she knew what strength lay hidden under that illusion. The sound of wood grating against wood sounded loud in the otherwise dead quiet of the night, and she audibly gulped as the door groaned open on it's hinges as the barrier was removed, revealing only more darkness within. She was just about to take an involuntary step back when another piercing pain ricochet through her head, and she was almost grateful when the darkness surrounded her, rendering her unconscious.
A/n: Next chapter should be posted pretty soon, thanks very much to everyone for the kind reviews.
He sat in darkness, at the edge of the bed, facing the door, his elbows resting on his knees and his eyes, glittery in the little light cast from the window, stared unblinkingly at the door itself. At his feet was a small dark bag, it's robust appearance interrupted by sharp points that strained the material, almost to the point of breaking through. He was also cloaked in black, black dress trousers, black short sleeved t-shirt, black watch strapped tightly to his wrist, in fact, if it wasn't for the shine reflected in his eyes, a stranger entering the room would have walked straight past him, as he blended so well into the shadowy surroundings. The stillness of the room was interrupted then by a tiny beep. A small electronic pulse that alerted him the time had come and the waiting was over. The mattress groaned half heartedly as he stood, and he allowed himself a few seconds of stretching to allow the blood to circulate to his now stiff muscles before he lifted his bag and strode with purpose towards the door.
Clarice flickered back to the waking world with a sudden rush, her ears immediately pinpointing what had interrupted her sleep. A soft rolling snore came every few seconds from the other side of the bed and she couldn't help the snort of abrupt laughter, which was quickly silenced by her own hand covering her mouth. He snored. 'Well I'll be damned' she whispered, her throat constricting once more as he, as if in reply, produced a rather loud snort which seemed to disturb even him as he shifted under the blankets with a contented sigh, before the soft rumble began again. Her mouth twitched as she imagined what his reply would be when she brought to his attention his rudeness the following morning. If was of course possible that he didn't snore every night, she couldn't remember him snoring the night he had stayed in her old house, he was after all, she admitted, exhausted, even if he wouldn't admit it, she knew he hadn't slept at all that night and he had done his fair share of the driving. Settling back to the pillows she was just about to let sleep come once again when a soft noise outside the front door pulled her back. It wasn't a knock, more of a scratch she thought, like the sound her aunt's cat had made when he wanted back into the warmth of the house. She strained her ears and listened over the rumble to her right to see if she could hear anything else. She had just about given up hope and was ready to lay back down when another scratch filled the room, slightly louder this time, but not loud enough to wake the man lying next to her. Frowning she considered what to do. She could nudge Hannibal and sent him to investigate, that idea was scrubbed immediately, what the hell would that accomplish except maybe reinforce the fact she was a Looney, not just any Looney, a frightened of the dark, imagination ran wild, raving Looney. Yeah, that's just what she wanted a psychiatrist to summarise, as if she didn't have enough to worry about at the moment. Second plan it would be then, she thought with a tiny tendril of trepidation, she would go and investigate the Steven King like noises herself. On her own. In the dark. With the Scratching. She paused halfway out of the bed, scrunched up her face, and then reached for the harpy she had slid into the pillowcase. Better to be safe than sorry. Sliding out of the bed in a whisper of fabric she paused and was relieved to hear the gurgle continue from the blankets and turned towards the door. The light cast from the windows was a sickly yellow, dim and depressing, but strong enough to see where everything was in the room and more importantly, what was just outside it. Stepping lightly she made her way first to the window and ever so slowly peeled back the light grey netting enough to see the other side of the door. Nothing. Just the worn walkway and the car park beyond. She could only see from the doorknob upwards and again her mind toyed with the idea of a stray cat or animal, seeking warmth and shelter. She dismissed the idea with a roll of the eyes and was slowly making her way back to the bed when she again stopped at the sound of a quiet scratch. Sighing silently she tip toed back to the door and with the utmost care slowly twisted the key, listening to the slight click that signalled the door was unlocked. Glancing back to the bed the figure wrapped snugly did not move and she was relieved, if he had woken, she didn't relish the idea of telling him her current actions. With time and patience she worked the doorknob south and with a small click and the tiniest breeze the door cracked open to reveal the outside world. Opening it a fraction more Clarice looked expectantly downwards, seeing only the sandstone concrete of a path that was well used. The breeze brought Goosebumps to her skin and she decided that her curiosity would have to take a back seat to her creature comforts, she wanted to be warm and she wasn't going to achieve that searching for phantom cats. Shaking her head, she began to close the door slowly when a slight scuffle just outside caused to stop. This was insane. Fighting with herself for all of two seconds she eventually opened the door just enough to squeeze outside and look down the path. This would drive her crazy if she didn't find out what it was. Looking to her right immediately didn't produce any answers; it was when she looked to the left that everything suddenly became clear. The barrel of a gun pointed at her face was enough to shed some light on the situation.
Clarice stood frozen, one hand still attached to the doorknob, the other held tightly round her waist as if to keep any warmth she still had left inside her body. The barrel that was aimed between her eyes was steady, so was the hand that held it, but she couldn't see much more than that. The person holding the gun was hidden in the shadows created by the slightly open door, the blackness enveloping them so it looked eerily to her that the gun and hand where somehow floating in mid air. Several seconds had past and it took only that small amount of time for Clarice to review every option she had, and just as quick to scrub them. She couldn't call for Hannibal, she would be dead before the last syllable left her mouth, and so would he be shortly after. She couldn't brandish the weapon she had in her waistband, she would be dead before she could grasp it, and she couldn't fight her way out of it, she would be dead before her hand made contact with the gun.
" Step away from the door"
Clarice didn't recognise the voice and wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing. She had been trained to deal with situations like this and knew that she should obey his commands until either help arrived or she saw an opportunity to deal with it herself. It was; ironically, with thoughts of Quantico that she slowly let go of the doorknob and took a silent step forward. She watched then as the shadow gained some structure, a shoulder, a leg and the side of his head was all she was rewarded with as he delicately closed the door; effectively closing off the only person that would notice she was missing.
" Turn around and walk to the end of the walkway. Try anything and I'll pull the trigger."
Clarice didn't pick up any accent, any tremor or more worryingly, any emotion in his voice. He didn't sound happy to have her, nor nervous, just a level baritone which gave nothing. Walking on the pads of her bare feet, Clarice paused at the end of the row of doors and waited warily for the next instruction. She didn't wait long.
" Turn right. Walk."
Clarice must have hesitated slightly when she saw the blackness that waited for her as she soon felt the barrel dig uncomfortably into the back of her neck causing her to stumble forward slightly. Resisting the primal urge to either turn and attack or scream she walked at a steady pace in the direction he had indicated, her face twisting slightly as gravel and sharp pebbles bit into the soles of her feet. Her eyes began to make out objects ahead as her vision adjusted to the blackness. She could make out a building of some sort, tall but narrow, wooden, she surmised it was probably a storage area for the hotel itself. There were random shadows surrounding it, and as she grew closer she could make them out as old pieces of burnt out junk, pieces of cars, farming equipment and furniture.
" Stop"
Clarice stopped as instructed and resisted the urge to turn her head. Instead she mouthed one of the million questions that were buzzing through her brain.
" Who are you?"
The sting of something hard and heavy hitting the back of her head was enough to bring tears to her eyes, but not enough to render her unconscious. She fell to one knee, her head swimming, her hand slowly coming to rest gingerly on the back of her skull.
" Do not speak unless asked to. Stand up."
Clarice afforded herself a moment to get her vision cleared before she attempted to stand, her legs felt weak and unsteady and the hand that had previously nursed her head sported a large patch of deep red. Digging her fingers into the mixture of sand and gravel she pushed herself upright, staggering only slightly as her brain settled back into its place.
" Put your hands behind your back" came the voice again, seemingly out of the blackness.
Clarice bit her bottom lip as she considered what to do. If she was restrained her options were severely limited, and any chance she had to stop whatever this man wanted with her were also cut in half. If she resisted.well, she already knew he had no qualms in hurting her, just how much she was not sure she wanted to risk finding out. She didn't get a chance to think it over any longer however because a sudden force, which she guessed was his boot, came in contact with the back of her knee, sending her sprawling face fist in the pebbles. She could feel her face sting as she lay slightly panting, and a deep pain radiated from her leg. She decided then that whatever happened she was going to give some of that pain back to him by the end of the night.
" Put your hands behind your back"
This time she could hear anger in his voice and decided that putting her hands behind her back was not going to hurt her, whereas if she refused, well, that meant more pain. She slowly dragged her hands across the gravel till they were resting crossed across the low of her back. She couldn't see anything from her vantage point on the dusty ground, but she soon felt his presence when a strong grip forced her hands further up her back, causing a small groan to be released from her throat. The unmistakable feel of cool metal then as he handcuffed her, and again her shoulders screamed in protest as he pulled her arms in a signal to stand. Stumbling to her feet Clarice was again faced with the wooden building she had come to associate with feelings of dread. A shove of the shoulder from behind and she was walking towards it again, her bare feet dragging across the ground in what felt like the long walk to the executioners.
" Stop"
She stopped in front of the wooden door and watched as he slowly appeared to her right. She still couldn't make out any features due to the surrounding dark, but she could see his build better and she decided he didn't look any bigger than Dr Lecter did, although that said, she knew what strength lay hidden under that illusion. The sound of wood grating against wood sounded loud in the otherwise dead quiet of the night, and she audibly gulped as the door groaned open on it's hinges as the barrier was removed, revealing only more darkness within. She was just about to take an involuntary step back when another piercing pain ricochet through her head, and she was almost grateful when the darkness surrounded her, rendering her unconscious.