"Clarice."
"Doctor Lecter." Her reply was automatic. It was always his title. She had always been aware of boundaries - both the visible and non-visible. Almost ten years of guarding everything she had to say to him or those she had worked with had taken its toll. It had not been easy to set such training and conditioning aside, and even now, she analyzed everything with the efficiency of one who had enemies everywhere.
Even now, as she pressed her cheek into the doctor's hand as he smoothed her hair back from her face. she evaluated everything around her. Had she had ears like a cat, they would have been swiveling in all directions, alert for any or all sounds that could be out of place.
His gaze fell on the envelope on the coffee table, his eyes scanned Clarice's name written in flowing calligraphy. She had taken his advice and continued her schooling. She completed her doctorate with the same passion she had with anything that held her interest. Her name, despite everything that had happened to her, remained untarnished in the end. The corners of his mouth twitched in a smile. Pre-doctorate Starling had lectured in schools across the country, leaving behind the FBI for a life apart from being the female FBI agent with the most kills. Earlier, he had seen her looking into the mirror as if expecting to see Special Agent Clarice Starling, and Doctor Starling stared back at her. He smiled. Doctor Starling was just as dangerous; few knew this fact as he did.
"Docteur," he purred, leaning towards her with a gleam in his eyes that existed for her alone.
Dr. Fell, do you believe a man could become so obsessed with a woman. from the very first encounter?
With a smooth movement, he pulled out a small flower from behind his back; the dark blue petals glistened with evening moisture.
I think so.
Her soft smile was coupled with a wide eyed gaze of a child's un- reined wonder. In many ways she had grown up far beyond what he could have expected; in other ways she was embracing her childhood. left behind with the screaming of the lambs and the funeral of her dead father.
Could she see through the bars of his plight. and ache for him?
He watched her, silently, as she rushed off to set the flower in water; the wind of her walking whipped her hair behind her like a cape. She caught his gaze as she placed one of the vases by the window. He drank in the sight of her in the way others would have to eat.
Dr. Lecter extended one hand in a gesture rooted in habit, and she took it as he led her outside. The sunset was just starting to tint the sky with red; wasting it would truly be a pity. When they reached the cliffs overlooking the beach, they danced to the beat of music only they could hear.
With a flourish, the good doctor flung a teacup into the air, as he pulled Clarice closer. The sound of the shattering porcelain went unheard as his lips brushed against hers.
That's my girl.
TBC, perhaps.
"Doctor Lecter." Her reply was automatic. It was always his title. She had always been aware of boundaries - both the visible and non-visible. Almost ten years of guarding everything she had to say to him or those she had worked with had taken its toll. It had not been easy to set such training and conditioning aside, and even now, she analyzed everything with the efficiency of one who had enemies everywhere.
Even now, as she pressed her cheek into the doctor's hand as he smoothed her hair back from her face. she evaluated everything around her. Had she had ears like a cat, they would have been swiveling in all directions, alert for any or all sounds that could be out of place.
His gaze fell on the envelope on the coffee table, his eyes scanned Clarice's name written in flowing calligraphy. She had taken his advice and continued her schooling. She completed her doctorate with the same passion she had with anything that held her interest. Her name, despite everything that had happened to her, remained untarnished in the end. The corners of his mouth twitched in a smile. Pre-doctorate Starling had lectured in schools across the country, leaving behind the FBI for a life apart from being the female FBI agent with the most kills. Earlier, he had seen her looking into the mirror as if expecting to see Special Agent Clarice Starling, and Doctor Starling stared back at her. He smiled. Doctor Starling was just as dangerous; few knew this fact as he did.
"Docteur," he purred, leaning towards her with a gleam in his eyes that existed for her alone.
Dr. Fell, do you believe a man could become so obsessed with a woman. from the very first encounter?
With a smooth movement, he pulled out a small flower from behind his back; the dark blue petals glistened with evening moisture.
I think so.
Her soft smile was coupled with a wide eyed gaze of a child's un- reined wonder. In many ways she had grown up far beyond what he could have expected; in other ways she was embracing her childhood. left behind with the screaming of the lambs and the funeral of her dead father.
Could she see through the bars of his plight. and ache for him?
He watched her, silently, as she rushed off to set the flower in water; the wind of her walking whipped her hair behind her like a cape. She caught his gaze as she placed one of the vases by the window. He drank in the sight of her in the way others would have to eat.
Dr. Lecter extended one hand in a gesture rooted in habit, and she took it as he led her outside. The sunset was just starting to tint the sky with red; wasting it would truly be a pity. When they reached the cliffs overlooking the beach, they danced to the beat of music only they could hear.
With a flourish, the good doctor flung a teacup into the air, as he pulled Clarice closer. The sound of the shattering porcelain went unheard as his lips brushed against hers.
That's my girl.
TBC, perhaps.
