Title~ Scorpion
Rating~ PG-13
I do not own any of the characters, Thomas Harris is god, and Hannibal is my secret lover…Please R/R, I live for it!
Every moment of my life is boiled down to that eight minutes in the kitchen. The spool of my life unwound and restarted then, veering rapidly in new and astonishing directions. That kiss-a tight focused tornado, a controlled cataclysm- undid me and released a chain reaction that threw open every closed door, revealed a thousand new possibilities. All though of was lost in that second, replaced by a calm in the storm and a pair of maroon eyes.
The sound of the cuffs snicking into place was deafening.
As he pulled away from me I felt my awareness expand. I could feel the charged air crackling against my skin. I could feel each hair caught in the refrigerator door tug at my scalp with delicious pinpricks of pain. I could hear his breath, measured and even, and my own, gasping and shallow. I could smell blood and fear and desire. I found his eyes on my face and could not look away.
A ghost of a smile curled his lips. "Now this is really interesting." he said and I felt warmed by his approval. Off in the distance sirens were screaming but they could not shatter the stillness that stood between us. Nothing could, not anymore.
I wet my lips, waiting in silence for his next move. He stepped towards me and my chin rose to meet him, not backing off this time.
"Clarice…" His voice purred and I could feel his warm breath on my cheek. "I'm a little short on time. Where's the key?"
I looked into his eyes calmly, feeling powerless. This was the end to our story, I knew it. I knew I loved him and I knew I could not let him go. I knew he would destroy me or I would destroy him. It was the end. I knew it as he lifted the cleaver and shattered himself in a hail of blood and bone.
I still wake screaming to that image, the ghastly sight of his crimson life's blood and pale face. His eyes looking unflinching into mine are arctic. He has severed himself from me as effectively as he severed his hand from his body.
I remember the scorpion, stinging the turtle. "Why?" the turtle cried. "Why would you kill me?"
"Because it's my nature." the scorpion relied.
Hannibal Lecter is many things but he is never forgiving.
