Surprise
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these fantastic characters. The only thing I own at the moment is a major headache.
A/N: Ok, this is one of the first fan fics I've written. If people like this, I'll post some more, so please read and review!
"Hannibal..."
In the pale light of the morning, Clarice Starling twists and turns in her bed, the covers tangled around her as she shifts restlessly in her sleep. Her brow furrows and his name once again escapes her lips, this time startling her awake."Hannibal!" Her eyes shoot open, and she immediately sits upright in bed, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily.The dreams have been haunting her sleep for a long time, and have become so vivid, that she can truly hear him and feel him...only to wake to the bitter disappointment that he isn't with her in the harsh light of day.
She shakes her head firmly, partly to try and clear those thoughts from her head, partly because a tiny fraction of her was still denying how she felt...insisting that she wasn't helplessly in love with Hannibal 'The Cannibal' Lecter.
Helplessly in love...
Clarice chuckled to herself. She had to admit it, it was so pathetic, she almost found it funny. Her...in love. She was definately not the kind of woman who pines over a guy, waiting for them to call. Tired of all the men who hit on her, ignoring any looks or lewd comments she got, but never wanted.
Cornpone country pussy. That was what that bastard Krendler had said, and much more besides. She shivered. Flashbacks of that night at the lakehouse came to her...Krendler sat in that chair, only slightly more mindless that usual as Dr. Lecter proceeded to sauté the brain that had barely been used.
Then she was pressed against the refrigerator, staring deep into the dark, mysterious eyes of Hannibal Lecter, as he brought his lips to hers...
She lifted her hand to her face and slowly ran her fingers over her lips. That kiss, however brief, had burned her, and time and time again, she replayed the memory of staring into those intense maroon eyes, piercing her very soul, feeling the mouth that so many had met their fates at.
In a way, her fate had been sealed then too. The feelings she had, but had denied for years finally dawned on her, blindingly obvious, but still she said nothing to him, as she fought with herself.
She had begun to dream about him shortly after their first talks at 'the dungeon', as he referred to it. She dismissed them as just crazy inappropriate thoughts that meant nothing.
He doesn't love me and I don't love him!
Now, four months after their last encounter, she not only dreamt of him, she thought about him every spare second of her day.
30 seconds a day, my ass.
Sighing unhappily, she dragged herself out of bed and headed for the shower.
Work was the same crap she had come to expect and despise. One monotonous, petty assignment after another - stuff they figured even she couldn't screw up.br Jack Crawford had managed to call in a few last minute favours before he retired to ensure that her position in the F.B.I was safe. Her sanity, however, was another thing. She just wanted to scream out at them all and tell them where they could stick their lousy job, and part of her wondered why the hell she didn't just go and do that.
She knew that HEhad been right. She gave her heart and soul to the F.B.I, and they had completely screwed her, and then just cast her aside like a common prostitute.
And all along, no matter how much she tried to deny it, HE had been right. She wanted more than this, and he had known it would come to this, just as he always knew everything about her before she knew it herself. She shook her head.
Dammit, don't go thinking about him again girl. Don't you dare!
But she couldn't help it. She knew, deep down, she was desperate to see him again. To look into his eyes...feel his lips on hers again...
"People will say we're in love..."
Clarice smiled, in spite of herself, wondering what Dr. Lecter would do if she told him she really was in love with him, assuming she ever got to see him again.
It was pretty dark by the time she got back home. She flicked the light switch on as she stepped inside the duplex, and was just closing the door when her eyes fell upon the letter on the hall table. From him.
She hadn't even realised she was holding her breath, and let it out slowly, trying to calm down. Her heart pounded against her chest as she picked it up, and read the single word - Clarice - on the envelope. No stamp. He had delivered it personally. Was he still here? No, probably not. This was another of his little games to drive her nuts.
With trembling fingers, she turned the letter over and opened it, carefully sliding the paper out. She began to read, his voice filling her head, speaking the words.
Dear Clarice
I apoligise for the haste of my departure after our last meeting. I am sure you can understand my reasons.
I notice the media hounds have begun to tire of our story, as you have been reinstated. So what now, little Starling? I picture you throwing yourself into more menial tasks your former love has presented you with, expecting gratitude.
The lambs may have quietened their screams, but now it is you who longs to scream out against the predictable life you have embraced over the years, but that has now finally begun to lose its meaning.
Is that accurate, Clarice? Long overdue, I would say.
I think a visit would be in order, but not tonight, so please don't reach for that gun of yours quite yet.
However, that is not to say I will not be watching. From a respectable distance of course, Clarice.
Ta ta for now.
-H-
Suddenly feeling drained, Clarice felt the need to sit down, as her legs were failing her. She flopped into one of the chairs in the living room, her eyes frantically pouring over the letter, reading and re-reading. Would she turn it in? No. She was surprised at how quickly she answered her own question.
Deep down, she realised there was no question at all. She wouldn't, and couldn't betray him; that, she was perfectly aware of, although the realisation did scare her.
She knew he would keep to his word about a visit, and her heart leapt, thinking of her chance now.
The chance to finally capture him. The part of her that was still Special Agent Starling said, hopefully.
Clarice laughed aloud. She knew it would never happen, so why didn't she just admit it. She didn't want to imprison him, she wanted to fly free with him, away from the life she knew now.
"You fly back to school now, little Starling. Fly, fly fly..."
Her eyes closed as once again she recaptured that moment in time, at the lakehouse.
She flew at him with her bare hands - a last half hearted attempt to finally catch him....Only to be held in his vice-like grip and pinned against the refridgerator. His dark eyes bore into her as he considered his options.
Then, in a matter of seconds, he had trapped her hair in the fridge door and broken off the handle, which he held in front of her face, taunting her before he put it down.
They stared into each others eyes for what seemed like an eternity, before he spoke.
"Tell me, Clarice, would you ever say to me 'Stop. If you loved me you'd stop.'?"
In that moment, in his own way, he had bared his soul to her. A brief flash of powerful emotions behind those deep maroon eyes.
A voice in her head was telling her to submit to her true feelings, and just tell him, but yet again, Special Agent Starling took over.
To herself: 'No! I don't care how he feels...I can't love him...And I'll never beg him for anything!'
To him: "Not in a thousand years."
"Not in a thousand years." he repeated. He leaned in to her, teeth bared menacingly.
She knew, putting aside all other thoughts and feelings about him, that she was not afraid.
A surprised expression flashed briefly over his face when she didn't even flinch, then changed to a look of pride. "That's my girl."
It wasn't said in a condesending tone - this was pure, genuine emotion. He loved her, in his own way, and was genuinely happy that she was fearless of him.
His lips pressed onto hers and her eyes closed. Shocked, she realised this was exactly where she wanted to be. Together with the only man she had ever truly been in love with. But still, part of her didn't want to succumb to this litle game, and she didn't allow herself to return the kiss.
Click
With a quick movement she had handcuffed them together.
He looked surprised, partly amused. "Now that's really interesting, Clarice. And I'm really pressed for time. So where's the key?"
Silence as she stared defiantly into his eyes.
"Where's the key?"
Still nothing.
"Ok..." He picked up a meat cleaver and forced both their hands down onto the chopping board. He motioned with the cleaver. "Above, or below the wrist, Clarice?"
He raised the blade over his head and stared into her eyes, reading them. She was still unafraid, but she seemed a little uncertain of what he would do. "This is really going to hurt." He paused, and then quickly brought it down.
She screamed, bracing herself for the inevitable pain.
THUD
Nothing.
She opened her eyes and turned her head to look down at their wrists. He had managed to break the chain between them with the cleaver.
He smiled, reading her expression of relief, confusion...and something else. He spoke, his voice giving her no further insight on how he felt. "You know, it never would have been your wrist, Clarice. Although, I decided losing a hand myself would greatly have affected my piano playing skills."
Her eyes widened. "Dr. Lec-"
He placed a finger over her lips. "I must go now. However nice it would be to continue this conversation, I have no desire to continue it through bars or glass, Clarice. Goodbye."
They stared into each others eyes for a second, and then he was gone. Out of her life, once again.
Back to the present, she fell back into the chair, exhausted. Out of her life, until now. She wondered when the 'visit' would be, and found herself desperate to see him again.
Opening her eyes, she looked over the letter for the second time, reading it all from the beginning.
I'now it is you who longs to scream out against the predicatable life you have embraced over the years, but that has now finally begun to lose its meaning.'
"How the hell do you know exactly how I feel...before I even realise it myself?" She looked over the letter again, half-expecting an answer to her question to appear at the bottom of the paper.
It was a long time before she got to sleep that night.
After another long and pointless day at work, Clarice returned home, opened the door, and stepped inside the house. Maybe the note from 3 days ago had made her a little paranoid, but she felt like something was wrong. After all, he had been in the house before....
Her hand was already freeing her .45 from its holster, as she kicked the front door shut and took two cautious steps forward.
"Doctor Lecter!" She cursed inwardly at how shrill and nervous her voice had sounded. She cleared her throat. "Doctor Lecter!" That sounded more level...calm.
Where is he?
"I know you're here! Please...wherever you are, just...come out. Slowly. I'm armed!"
Like that's going to make a difference to him...
The light in the kitchen was on, and so was the one on the stairs.
"Doctor Lecter, please answer me!"
As she edged forward, she could feel her heart pounding against her chest. She quickly sprinted down the hallway and checked the kitchen. Empty. She was just about to turn around, when she felt cool metal against her throat, and she gasped.
"Good evening, Clarice."br
She swallowed hard. "Doctor Lecter." She hadn't even heard him coming...
"The gun please, Clarice."
Without hesitation, she lifted it to her shoulder and felt his fingers lightly brush over hers as he took the weapon from her.
"Thank you." He listened to her quick, shallow breaths. "Ok, Clarice. If I put this away, are you going to behave?"
"Yes." She held her breath as he carefully moved the harpy's blade away from her throat. Drawing breath again, she slowly turned to face him.
His face broke into a smile as he took in her startled expression. "Surprised to see me?" He laughed at her 'Well, duh!' expression.
She scowled at him. "What's so goddamn funny about breaking into my house, sneaking up on me and making me nearly jump through the ceiling?!"
He smiled. "Scared?"
"Surprised." 'Thrilled', is more like it, she told herself grimly. She had wanted to see him for so long, and here he was. Her heart was pounding against her chest, partly because he had made her jump, but mainly because she was excited he was here. She realised he had most probably (try, 'definately'!) already read her expression, but she shoved those thoughts aside and cleared her throat.
"So. To what do I owe the pleasure?" A smirk passed over her face for a split second. Damn, she had sounded almost as detached and aloof as he did. The faintest smile about his lips told her that he also had not failed to notice it.
"Must we continue to play these games, Clarice?" He was smiling openly now, and she knew that he was enjoying it all the same. She had to admit, it was fun, having these...
Dammit! Talking to a serial killer is NOT supposed to be fun! You should be trying to arrest him!
She silently told Jimminy Cricket to piss off.
"What are you doing here, doctor?"
"I think you already know the answer to that question, Clarice." His dark gaze bore into her, but she maintained eye contact.
"I'm sure I don't have the same high powered perception, your...ability to read people, doctor." She smirked.
"Still, I'm sure you didn't fail to take note of what I said to you four months ago."
This was it. She was determined to make him tell her. "What exactly were you saying then, doctor? Would you care to tell me something straight for once, without any riddles for me to solve?" She knew she was being rude, but it was necessary. He was probably testing her, seeing if she would stand up to him.
He smiled. "Where would the fun in that be?"
That does it. "Goddamn it, Doctor Lecter...Hannibal...just tell me what you want! Why are you here...why are you always with me?"
His expression turned serious. "Alright, Clarice. I'm here for the same reason I have been watching you for the past decade. I love you, and I don't want to see you in such an existence when-"
He never got to say whatever he intended to say next as he was silenced by her lips on his.
Fin
