Starling thankfully sank into her squashy armchair. The adrenaline was near subsided and left a clammy trail of exhaustion in its wake, like the path of a snail. But she couldn't rest yet. She had person to see to. This in itself was new to her, she had learned how to look out for herself fine, it comes with being an orphan, but she had never been utterly depended on by another person before. And especially a person who had seemed so self- dependant all their acquaintance.
. As soon as she got in to her darkened duplex, she was faced with another problem, where to put him. She found she was oddly shy to put him in her bed, it seemed like a gross breach of privacy. But she wasn't about to make him go on the sofa; Mapp's bed was out even if its usual occupant was away for a month skiing in the Dolomites. Eventually, Starling was forced to push aside her bashfulness for the need of the doctor who's facial bruising was really starting to bloom. She simply laid him on top of the duvet, seeing no need to cover him, as it would only get in the way of her future administrations.
Which brings us back to the present. Starling pulled herself out of her chair and gave a quick call to Pearsall's office infirming them of her month holiday plan to Europe that would stop him or any agent suspecting her or, god forbid, searching her house. She was given full permission and even advice to stay off longer. She noticed they didn't tell her anything about Lecter's miraculous escape. With a small smile she allowed herself a moment of smug enjoyment at being first and only person to know about Lecters whereabouts for once. Looked like the lower end of the totem pole had swung to the top.
Next came the awkward part. Gathering her limited first aid supplies, Starling went back into her bedroom, tugging closed the blinds and depositing her stuff on the white pillow opposite Lecters head. He had rolled to the side again which suggested severe bruising on his torso causing his skin to be painfully tight. It would make it near impossible to lie comfortably in any position but he seemed to favour this one. Very carefully and a tad regretfully she rolled him back onto his back.
With a damp cloth and infinite care, she cleaned his face of the crusting streaks of blood and smears of dirt. Thankfully, none of the cuts were so deep he needed stitches. She wasn't qualified to do that and she could hardly take him to a hospital. When every cut had been cleaned, checked and tended to she moved to his torso. Gently, she unbuttoned his shirt and pulled back the blood soaked material. She couldn't help a tingling rush of adrenaline and a heated flush over her face as she took in his bared chest.
Trying to shake it away she reached for her surgical scissors and cut away the rest of the material, the shirt was ruined any way. She bit down on her lower lip, frowning as she took in the damage. She found that if she stayed in a professional mood, she could reduce the waves of conflicting emotion that hit her, reduce, not stop. Another 10 minutes with the cloth saw his skin clean but still hideously injured. Luckily no ribs were broken but she suspected some were partially cracked, but these would reset on their own. Along his tender ribcage were many scarlet bruises joined by smaller, purple ones. Nervously kneeling across his thighs Starling slipped a hand under his back to check for further injury and must of hit a sore spot for he arched up towards her. Another wave of that bittersweet emotion sent her scuttling back onto the bed next to him. She decided to let him rest.
AN: Working on lengthening chapters…have to bear with me for a bit as I get into the swing of this tale…titanic thanks to all who reviewed!