Chapter 13: Downfall
Zachary paced the living room nervously back and forth. He knew he was in tremendous trouble once Hannibal returned home for certainly he had seen the news today and would put two and two together. He would have the boy's head especially because of the implications of the murder.
Zachary bit his nails as he paced and debated what he should do. 'God why was I so stupid last night?' he chided himself. 'What was I thinking?'
The problem was he had not been thinking. He had been overcome with an anger so volatile it had developed into an urge so strong that he had not been able to control it. He was tired of being Lecter's subordinate. Granted, the doctor had given him a second chance and a life that Zachary had previously only dreamed of, but that did not mean that he could treat him badly. There came a point when the old man needed to trust Zachary, needed to believe in him.
After he had left the house last night, he had jumped in his car and raced away, tires squealing on the asphalt. He had driven on blindly, with no purpose or destination in mind, and had eventually found himself in Baltimore, Hannibal's former stomping grounds. He had been seething over his mentor's words: 'I don't think your assistance in this instance would be wise.' Zachary had repeated the phrase over and over in his head until he had been shaking with fury.
He had stopped at a red light and had glanced to his right hand side, still fuming. He'd had to do a double take to be sure the man walking briskly on the sidewalk was not indeed Lecter. He had watched the man walk quickly, coat pulled tightly around him, face lowered into the upraised lapels against the cold.
Zachary's anger had only increased as he had watched the man walk. It was almost uncanny how similar he looked to Lecter. Zachary had followed him at a distance until the opportunity to grab him had presented itself. Zachary remembered how he had hit the man from behind in the back of the head and carried him quickly to his car. He had driven the man to a deserted warehouse and, in the alley behind, had slashed and destroyed the man with his knife, taking out all of his fury on him. He remembered how he had plunged his knife into the man's body again and again, severing body parts and mutilating his face until his fury had finally begun to abate.
Zachary remembered taking the man's heart and tearing into it right then and there in the alley, devouring most of it. He had carved his 'signature' into the man's back and sat back, bathed in blood, looking at his work. He was tired of Hannibal being given credit for his work and he wanted to be sure that this time his master's bitch figured things out. He had recalled how Hannibal had said that one day Clarice would 'see the truth.' Zachary had thought he would just help her along a bit and he had carved those exact words into the man's back.
Now he forced himself to take a deep breath and calm down, over reacting to either his deed or his mentor's reaction would do him no good. After a great deal of contemplation, he decided the best thing to do would be to be honest with his mentor when he came home and take whatever punishment was given to him like a man. Then maybe things would begin to return to normal. Zachary sank down heavily on the couch and sighed shakily. The sudden ringing of the doorbell caused him to jump.
Who could be calling on him now? He glanced at the clock on the wall: 6:12 pm. He was not expecting Amanda until eight. 'Ah, Amanda,' he thought and was able to smile for the first time that day. 'God she's got great tits.' He was certain that tonight she would finally give in and sleep with him. He had been pressuring her for weeks now. He knew he needed to be careful though, he could not afford to end up on a list like the ones he perused to find his 'reckonings.' That would destroy everything he had worked so hard for.
Zachary sighed, stood up, and walked to the door. As he walked passed the front windows, he glanced out the blinds and saw a van from the local cable company parked in front of the house. His brow furrowed. He had not called the cable company for anything. 'Maybe H did,' he thought.
When he opened the door, he had to work to keep the sudden shock that jolted through his body from registering. It certainly was not anyone from the cable company. SHE was standing there looking as gorgeous as ever in an olive green skirt, a white ruffled poets blouse, and a long leather jacket with her red hair piled up into a clip. Standing immediately behind her, hands clasped behind his back, in a dark blue suit and a black overcoat, stood a tall man that Zachary did not recognize. Zachary noted the quick look they exchanged and he began to panic.
"Hello, I'm special agent Clarice Starling with the FBI.."
'Ah, you gotta love that throaty drawl,' Zachary thought.
"...and this is special agent Will Graham," she smiled and held up her badge. "Would you mind if we came in and asked you a few questions?"
"With regards to what?" Zachary asked and struggled to keep his voice from shaking. His master had not trained him for this yet.
"There has been a string of violent home invasions in the neighborhood over the last two months and we'd just like to ask you if you have any information about them," Will said instantly.
Zachary noticeably relaxed. "Oh, um, okay, sure but I haven't even heard of anything like that happening around here." He stepped aside so the federal agents could walk in. 'Maybe this is some truly ironic coincidence, Zach, just relax,' he told himself. "Have a seat," he motioned to the couches in the living room.
"Thank you," Clarice replied and sat down. She pulled out a small notebook and a pen from her jacket pocket, removed her jacket and laid it on the couch next to her.
Will, however, continued to stand. He scanned the room quickly and wandered nonchalantly over to the bookshelves. Clarice quickly scanned the room as well and saw nothing she would instantly link to Dr. Lecter, although the home was tastefully furnished and meticulously clean. Zachary stood behind the couch opposite the one Clarice was on and eyed Will warily, he did not want the man snooping around.
"Can I get you two something to drink?" He asked.
"No, thank you," Clarice replied and flashed her bright smile at him again. "Can I have your name please?"
"Zachary Michael Matthews."
"How long have you lived here?"
"About four years I guess."
"Do you own this house?"
"No, it's leased."
"And you are the leasee?"
"What does this have to do with home invasion robberies?" Zachary asked, suddenly becoming suspicious.
Clarice smiled again. "I'm sorry but I cannot disclose that information at this time." She decided to switch tactics. She knew he was eyeing her legs appreciatively and she hoped maybe she could catch him off guard. "What do you do for a living Zachary?"
"I'm a student at Georgetown. I'm a senior and I've been accepted at Johns Hopkins University next fall to attain my graduate degree in psychiatry and behavioral sciences," Zachary replied proudly, smiling.
At his words, Will turned around from the bookshelves and looked over Zachary's head to Clarice. They exchanged another glance and Will raised his eyebrow slightly and nodded his head at her.
"Well congratulations," Clarice smiled broadly, looking back to Zachary. She remained silent, in an attempt to draw more information out of him.
Zachary smiled and continued to study her legs. From there his eyes roamed greedily up to her waist and then on to her breasts. 'Damn,' he thought, 'now I know what H sees in her. She's fucking hot.' He glanced over at Will who looked over at him and nodded briefly. 'I wonder if H knows about him. God, how can he spend his days with her and not jump her? I'd fucking be all over her. Damn!'
Then Zachary noticed Will was beginning to work his way closer to the hallway that led to his and Lecter's rooms. He began to panic. 'Shit, why did I let them in?' His mind screamed at him. "Um, why don't I go get us something to drink?" He asked.
Clarice glanced at Will who shook his head slightly. "We're fine, Zachary, thank you though. So you lease this home?"
He nodded nervously and his eyes bounced back to Will. "Yup."
"Really?" Clarice questioned.
"Yeah, well actually my dad does." Zachary's panic was about to overtake him. He saw no way out of this. They had caught him. 'What do I do?' His mind screamed. 'Dammit, why isn't H here?' Then he remembered the gun. It was in the desk drawer on the other side of the room where the bookshelves and the hall were, close to where the other agent stood.
"Tell me about your dad, Zachary," Clarice said steadily. "What is he like?"
Zachary began very slowly inching across the room in the direction of the desk. "Oh you know, he's on my ass about school all the time. He's a regular dad I guess."
"What does he do for a living?"
"Um," Zachary stammered. "Well, he's a doctor."
"What kind of doctor?" Clarice asked.
"A psychiatrist."
Will and Clarice glanced at one another again.
Will reached the hallway and peered down. "What's down here?" He asked.
"Nothing, just bedrooms," Zachary said, continuing to inch toward the desk. He was almost there, just a few more steps.
"Mind if I take a look?" Will asked.
Zachary shrugged. While he did not want the agent to look in either bedroom, he realized he would have a better chance at escape if one of them was out of the room. "Sure, I guess," he said nonchalantly.
Will disappeared down the hall. Zachary continued his slow progress toward the desk.
"Where are you going, Zachary?"
"Um," he said. "I don't know."
"Then stop moving," Clarice ordered.
Zachary did as he was told. He looked at the desk, he was so close. But it was still an arm's distance away. He was unsure how to proceed without drawing her suspicion. He knew he could not make any sudden movements. They stared at one another for a moment, he standing near the desk, she sitting on the couch.
"Do you have a picture of your father, Zachary?" Clarice asked finally.
"Sure," he replied and breathed a sigh of relief. This was his chance. He took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. "There's a photo album in the desk here."
"Can I see it?"
"Yeah sure." Zachary stepped to the desk, bent down, and opened the drawer. He placed his hand over the gun, closed his eyes briefly, and took another deep breath. It was now or never.
In the blink of an eye, Zachary pulled the gun out of the drawer, whirled around, and aimed it at Clarice. Her eyes widened in surprise and she reached for her own gun. She pulled her trigger a split second before he did then she turned and ducked to avoid his bullet. But she was not fast enough. The bullet caught her in the back of her right shoulder and she yelped. Her bullet struck Zachary in this left side and he clutched at it but remained upright, pointing his gun in her direction. She remained on the floor and on her hands and knees, began to crawl around the couch to stay out of his sight. He made his way toward the front door on shaky legs, keeping his eyes on the couch in case Clarice made another move to shoot him.
Out of the corner of his eye, Zachary saw movement in the hallway and turned his gun in that direction. Will lunged into the room, his gun raised. Zachary fired first but the bullet missed and lodged in the wall. Will fired two shots at Zachary, hitting him first in the right shoulder to disable his shooting arm and secondly directly in the stomach to put him down. The boy fell with a grunt, blood escaping onto the floor, staining the expensive Oriental rug underneath him in front of the entryway to the front door.
Gun still outstretched, Will moved to where Zachary lay, picked up the boy's gun and put it in his coat pocket, looking down at him. Zachary's eyes were clenched tight and he clutched his stomach.
"Fuck this hurts," he groaned
"Shut up," Will said contemptuously. "Bleed in silence."
He bent down slowly and felt Zachary's pulse. It felt relatively strong, the little bastard would live. Only then did Will holster his gun. The back-up agents who had been waiting in the van that Zachary had observed, Seth Williams, Keith Greene, and Sheila Parks kicked open the door and rushed in, guns raised. They lowered them when they saw the situation was under control. Clarice groaned and Will went to her. He and Seth each put an arm around her and helped her up onto the couch. She sat down, clutched her right shoulder and they saw blood quickly spreading over her blouse.
"Let me see," Will said and moved her hand.
Fortunately, the bullet had only nicked her as it had flown by. She had an ugly gash in the back of her shoulder but at least there was no bullet inside her. She groaned.
"Dammit, what a rookie mistake," she muttered.
"Don't worry about that." Will said and hurried in the direction of the hallway.
Seth sat next to Clarice and inspected the wound. Keith Greene helped Zachary sit up and Sheila Parks pulled out her cell phone to call in the incident in to the Bureau. Will re-emerged from the hall with a hand towel from the bathroom. He untucked the back of her blouse and reached up inside it to place the towel on the wound. "Hold this here," he instructed. "We gotta get you to a hospital."
Clarice shook her head. "No, I'm not going to the hospital."
"Yes you are Clarice, you have a hole in your back." Will argued.
"But there's no bullet. I'll be fine. I'm not going to the hospital," she repeated. "I'm tired and in pain, I don't wanna sit in the emergency room for five hours. Besides, we need to see if Lecter comes home."
Will sighed and turned to Seth who was shaking his head at Clarice's stubbornness. "Call an ambulance for the little asshole over there," he said gesturing to the bleeding Zachary.
An hour later, Zachary had been taken away in an ambulance with Agent Parks accompanying him. Shortly before his departure, Kendra Mitchell had arrived on scene with ten other agents. She had ordered them to begin scouring the home for evidence. Clarice and Will had been outraged.
"You cannot have agents traipsing around through the house right now," Clarice had argued, working to ignore her flaring shoulder. "We need to stake it out and wait for Dr. Lecter to return."
"We need to get the evidence out now," Kendra had replied coldy.
"Fuck that," Will had spat. "The evidence will still be there tomorrow. If Lecter comes home and sees us all over it, he's gone. We'll never see him again. This is our best shot."
"We are collecting the evidence now," Kendra had retorted. "If you two are going to stick around then why don't you go wait in the van and stay out of our way. I'll get the agents out as soon as we've got enough."
Clarice had sighed, defeated. She pulled Will by the arm in the direction of the van.
"No," Will had argued but still allowed her to lead him away. "This is fucking bullshit."
"I know," Clarice had said quietly.
Now, Kendra and the other agents were still moving through the house. Clarice saw their chances at nabbing Lecter slipping through their fingers. Other agents sat in parked cars at either end of the street, keeping their eyes peeled for the doctor but she knew he would be able to spot them from a mile away, he was too clever. Clarice and Will were inside the van, awaiting Lecter's return. Clarice looked at her watch. Almost 8:00 pm. She moaned slightly, clutching her right shoulder as a bolt of pain shot through it. Will looked at her and even in the dimming light of the van she looked pale. He turned to Seth and another agent, Carlos Vega.
"Hey, I should get Clarice home. She needs to rest. You guys think you can handle this without us?"
Seth smiled. "Yeah, get outta here you two." He paused. "We'll call you on your cell Clarice if there are any developments but I highly doubt there will be. Lecter's too smart for all of this. I bet he's already long gone thanks to the Devil incarnate."
Clarice smiled bleakly. "Thanks, guys. I'm sorry to bail on you but I feel awful."
"No worries," Seth said and squeezed his friend's hand. "I'll be sure and let 'Delia know you're alright. Take care of yourself."
"Thanks, Seth."
They exited the van and Will helped her walk to the next block where he had moved her car to keep it out of sight. She sat down heavily in the passenger seat and leaned her head back against the head rest as Will closed the door. He walked around to the driver side, got in, and started the engine. He looked over at her.
"Alright, first thing's first, we need to get some food into you. You've hardly had anything to eat today and you've had a bit of blood loss so we'll hit the drive through and get some cheeseburgers to eat in the car. Then we're going to your house, getting you cleaned up, and you're going to bed." He paused and grinned wryly. "And don't argue with me about this, Starling, I mean it. This time you're at my mercy."
Clarice grunted her approval and closed her eyes.
Will opened the door to Clarice's home and stood back to let her enter. He walked in behind her, closed the door, and threw her keys on the coffee table. Clarice walked in, kicked off her pumps, walked to the breakfast nook and sat down on one of the stools. She swiveled her head around and rubbed her neck with her left hand. Her right arm was held protectively at her side. She was feeling better since getting some food into her although her shoulder continued to ache terribly.
"Fuck this hurts," she spat. "I know the bastard just nicked me, but this hurts almost as bad as actually being shot."
"I bet," Will said sympathetically. "You got anything to clean it up and bandage it with?"
"In the bathroom," Clarice nodded in the direction of the hallway.
He nodded and disappeared down the hall. Clarice got up and pulled a bottle of whiskey from the kitchen cupboard. She poured herself a drink and sat back down heavily on the stool. She finished the drink in one gulp and poured herself another. Will re-emerged laden with rubbing alcohol, bandages, antibacterial ointment, a washcloth, and a bottle of ibuprofen. He saw her glass and the bottle.
"Self medicating are we?" He grinned and held up the ibuprofen. "I was gonna give you some of these but if you would prefer the whiskey then I won't argue with you this time." He paused. "But only 'cuz you've been shot."
"Give 'em to me anyway," Clarice said and reached for the medicine.
Will pulled the bottle back. "No way, you can't have both. That's bad for you, you know, mixing drugs."
"Well that's the pot calling the kettle black," Clarice retored.
Will grinned but said nothing and laid everything out on the nook. He rummaged in the cupboards until he found a bowl and went to the sink to fill it with warm water. While his back was turned, Clarice grabbed the bottle of ibuprofen and popped it open. The motion caused her right shoulder to scream in pain.
"Shit!" Clarice exclaimed. She cupped her right shoulder with her left hand and tears sprung to her eyes. She wiped them away, put three of the tablets in her mouth, and washed them down with her drink.
Will set the bowl of water down on the nook, removed his tie, unbuttoned his top button, and rolled up his shirt sleeves. He looked at her grimacing face unsympathetic. "I told you it was a bad idea. Alright, take off your shirt Starling."
Clarice looked up at him and gave him an amused look. "Agent Graham, I'm not that easy."
"Clarice, you're not easy at all in fact most of the time you're down right difficult." He grinned at her. "Now come on, take it off. If you won't let me take you to the hospital, then I've gotta clean it myself because you can't see it or reach it." He paused and she made no movement to remove her blouse. He rolled his eyes. "I'll be a good boy, I promise."
Clarice half-smiled and began unbuttoning her blouse. "Good thing I wore my nice bra today, not the ones with all the little holes in 'em."
"I don't know," Will replied mischievously, "a bra full of holes might be kinda fun." He paused. "Well, for me anyway."
Clarice slugged him playfully on the shoulder with her uninjured arm. She took off her blouse, grimacing when she moved her right shoulder, looked at the huge bloodstain and the hole from the passing bullet, and threw it on the floor. "Dammit," she said. "That was one of my favorite blouses."
"I'm sorry," Will said. "The sacrifices we make for this job, huh?"
Clarice was suddenly self conscious about being half naked in front of him and chided herself for it. 'He's my partner,' she reminded herself again. 'Knock it off.'
Will sat down on the stool next to hers, spun hers around so that her back was to him, picked up the washcloth, soaked it in the warm water and began to remove the towel that he had put on the wound at Lecter's house. He peeled it off gently but the clotted blood stuck and Clarice hissed as it was removed and the wound was partially re-opened.
"Sorry," he whispered as he applied the washcloth to the back of her shoulder.
He dabbed at the wound to cleanse it as best he could. It had begun to bleed again so once it was clean, he held the washcloth on it to help it re- clot. While he held it in place, he glanced up at the side of her face. Her bright chestnut hair was piled up into a clip today and small locks hung down the sides of her face. As he leaned in to check the clotting, he could smell the mingled scent of her hair and her perfume and he breathed it in. It had literally been years since he'd been this close to a woman and he had forgotten how sweet they smell and how soft they were. He looked at her bare, porcelain shoulders and her smooth, straight back and wondered what she would taste like as he ran his tongue along them. He shook his head slightly.
'Stop this,' he thought. 'She's your partner for Christ's sake, you dirty old man.'
Clarice turned her head slightly and met his gaze. They smiled at each other and she looked back down to the counter. She mused that she had not really noticed before how shockingly blue his eyes were. His touch as he cleaned her wound was light and gentle as a feather. Clarice closed her eyes and smiled to herself. Will soaked the washcloth again in the now red- colored water and then held it back on her shoulder. She glanced back at him again and smiled demurely.
"Thank you," she said almost in a whisper.
"You're welcome."
When the wound had pretty well clotted, Will got up and moved to the sink. Clarice's eyes hungrily followed his every moment. He rinsed the washcloth in the sink, rung it out, and opened the bottle of rubbing alcohol. He moved to sit back down on the stool behind her.
"This is gonna hurt like a bitch," he said softly.
Clarice nodded. "I know," she whispered.
Will held the washcloth against her shoulder just under the wound as he poured the alcohol over it. Clarice hissed and held her breath until he was done. He pressed the washcloth against the wound to be sure it was well-cleansed. Clarice squeezed her eyes tight shut as her shoulder burned and flared and tears formed behind her eyelids. After awhile, Will dropped the washcloth onto the nook, ripped open one of the bandages, and began to cover the red, clotted gap in her shoulder. Clarice rubbed her eyes and looked over her shoulder at him. As he pressed the last bandage on, he caught her gaze and held it.
"You need stitches but since you're too stubborn to go to the hospital, you have to remember to change the bandages every few hours or so and put that antibiotic ointment on it each time," Will replied.
"I'm gonna need someone's help to do that, I can't reach it very well myself," Clarice said and continued to hold his gaze.
Will nodded. They continued to gaze at each other for a moment before Will broke it and looked away. "That's gonna scar," he gestured with his chin toward her shoulder.
Clarice swiveled her stool around and their knees touched. She pointed to her left shoulder where she had been shot five years earlier as she had attempted to rescue Lecter. A clean, smooth, white scar ran across her shoulder. It was so thin it was almost invisible in her milky skin. Will could see the care and masterful work that had gone into stitching it up.
"That's ok, I've already got another one," she grinned up at him.
Will ran his right forefinger across it. "That's the one Lecter healed isn't it?" He asked softly. "He saved your life and you saved his."
A pained look crossed her face briefly as Clarice nodded, remembering. She looked into his eyes and leaned forward ever so slightly. Will gently brushed a strand of her hair away from her face and sighed softly. He willed himself to look away from her again but he could not, she was intoxicating. He leaned forward slightly and their mouths locked together. They kissed softly. Clarice put her arms around his neck and his arms went around her waist, pulling her closer. He could faintly taste the alcohol on her sweet lips. She broke the kiss, looked into his eyes, and smiled. Will pulled her stool up against his.
They gazed at each other again. 'Don't do this,' Will's mind screamed at him and this time he did look down at the floor. 'You know the consequences, don't do this.'
But he had come to care for her tremendously. Not only had she helped save his life, she had also become a good friend. In the relatively short time they had spent together lately he had found himself craving to just be near her, just to see her, just to talk with her. And because of her he had found strength he never knew he had.
Clarice touched his cheek softly and he met her gaze. He kissed her and this time their open mouths searched for each other in a desperate urgency. Their hands roamed and explored. Will undid the clip that held her hair and it cascaded down around her shoulders, glinting like red embers in the late evening sun that streamed through the blinds. He ran his hands through it and breathed in deeply its scent. He planted soft kisses up and down her neck and on the tops of her shoulders. When he nibbled her ear slightly, he heard her moan faintly and she pressed closer into him. Clarice slid her tongue down his neck and began to undo the buttons on his shirt. She slid her hand into his shirt and began to caress his chest. He suddenly pulled away.
"I'm sorry," Will shook his head and sat back on the stool.
"What's wrong?" Clarice asked.
"I don't know, I just..." he trailed off and shook his head. He looked at her and his face was pained. "Molly was the only woman, well besides nurses, to see me with my shirt off. It's not a pretty sight and I'm just kind of embarrassed I guess." He shrugged. "You've got a nice little scar, mine are atrocious. They weren't stitched up nicely like yours was."
Clarice took his hands in hers. "I don't care. I mean, come on Will, after everything you and I have been through together, do you really think some scars are gonna change the way I feel about you?"
Will lowered his gaze. "I guess not."
"It's okay," Clarice whispered. She lifted his head with her hand and their eyes met. "It's okay."
She leaned in and kissed him deeply. He allowed her to remove his shirt. She broke the kiss and looked down at his chest. He had three round raised white scars clustered closely together on his chest from being shot by Francis Dolarhyde. Clarice ran her thumb over them then leaned down and kissed each scar in turn, her tongue snaked out over them. Will's head fell back and he moaned throatily. Then she noticed the jagged scar that ran along the left side of his flat stomach. She ran her thumb along it and looked into his eyes. He returned her gaze unblinking. She bent down and ran her tongue along it slowly. He moaned and when she straightened up, he took her face in his hands and kissed her passionately. Clarice pressed her body closer into his. His hands ran up her skirt, stroking her inner thighs and she moaned into his mouth. Then without warning, his mind's eye flashed the memory of Lecter plunging that stiletto into his stomach and Will pulled away again, his emotions torn.
"You know, he mended yours Clarice," Will whispered huskily, "but he gave me mine."
Clarice knew Will was talking about Lecter and their scars. She nodded and gazed into his eyes.
"He loves you, you know," Will continued. "Probably more than either of us knows."
Clarice nodded again and lowered her gaze.
Will shook his head and sighed heavily. "He will literally kill me for this." He whispered painfully.
Clarice looked back into his eyes and saw fear burn within them. It pained her and she ached to calm him. "I won't let him." She paused and kissed Will's nose lightly. "Besides, he'll never know."
'Yes he will,' he thought. 'He watches us, Clarice.' But he said nothing. His inner turmoil raged. After years of loneliness and heartache, he had found someone he connected with. He had found someone who understood him, probably more than Molly ever had, and he understood her. But she was loved by a madman and that terrified him.
"Will," Clarice replied softly. "It's alright. You don't have to do this. If you don't want me..."
"Clarice I do," he said instantly. He sighed shakily. "It's just that I'm afraid. I'm afraid of the consequences of us becoming lovers. I'm afraid of the consequences of us caring deeply for each other."
"But Will, I already care for you deeply," Clarice replied and smiled. "It's okay."
"Then I'm afraid of the consequences of us maybe loving each other."
"Will," she whispered. "It's alright. Just be with me."
He looked into her eyes again and all he could see was her. In that moment all that mattered was her. And she was so warm, so soft that he just wanted to lose himself in her.
Clarice brushed his lips with hers and planted little kisses on his cheek and neck until she reached his ear. "Make love to me, Will," she purred into his ear and licked it.
That was all he needed. Shutting out the consequences, Will clamped his mouth over hers and pulled her off her stool on top of him so she was straddling him. She wrapped her legs around his back and they moaned simultaneously. He stood up, and carried her to the bedroom.
To be continued. Please review!
Author's Note: I know that A LOT of you are not going to like this chapter and I apologize, but for the story, it had to be done!! So please no hate mail!! You can tell me your opinions but don't verbally abuse me..much!
Sorry, no reviews to your reviews this time. Next time I promise I will as I'm sure many of you will have a lot to say about this chapter! But thank you all so much for your great reviews...I love them.
Zachary paced the living room nervously back and forth. He knew he was in tremendous trouble once Hannibal returned home for certainly he had seen the news today and would put two and two together. He would have the boy's head especially because of the implications of the murder.
Zachary bit his nails as he paced and debated what he should do. 'God why was I so stupid last night?' he chided himself. 'What was I thinking?'
The problem was he had not been thinking. He had been overcome with an anger so volatile it had developed into an urge so strong that he had not been able to control it. He was tired of being Lecter's subordinate. Granted, the doctor had given him a second chance and a life that Zachary had previously only dreamed of, but that did not mean that he could treat him badly. There came a point when the old man needed to trust Zachary, needed to believe in him.
After he had left the house last night, he had jumped in his car and raced away, tires squealing on the asphalt. He had driven on blindly, with no purpose or destination in mind, and had eventually found himself in Baltimore, Hannibal's former stomping grounds. He had been seething over his mentor's words: 'I don't think your assistance in this instance would be wise.' Zachary had repeated the phrase over and over in his head until he had been shaking with fury.
He had stopped at a red light and had glanced to his right hand side, still fuming. He'd had to do a double take to be sure the man walking briskly on the sidewalk was not indeed Lecter. He had watched the man walk quickly, coat pulled tightly around him, face lowered into the upraised lapels against the cold.
Zachary's anger had only increased as he had watched the man walk. It was almost uncanny how similar he looked to Lecter. Zachary had followed him at a distance until the opportunity to grab him had presented itself. Zachary remembered how he had hit the man from behind in the back of the head and carried him quickly to his car. He had driven the man to a deserted warehouse and, in the alley behind, had slashed and destroyed the man with his knife, taking out all of his fury on him. He remembered how he had plunged his knife into the man's body again and again, severing body parts and mutilating his face until his fury had finally begun to abate.
Zachary remembered taking the man's heart and tearing into it right then and there in the alley, devouring most of it. He had carved his 'signature' into the man's back and sat back, bathed in blood, looking at his work. He was tired of Hannibal being given credit for his work and he wanted to be sure that this time his master's bitch figured things out. He had recalled how Hannibal had said that one day Clarice would 'see the truth.' Zachary had thought he would just help her along a bit and he had carved those exact words into the man's back.
Now he forced himself to take a deep breath and calm down, over reacting to either his deed or his mentor's reaction would do him no good. After a great deal of contemplation, he decided the best thing to do would be to be honest with his mentor when he came home and take whatever punishment was given to him like a man. Then maybe things would begin to return to normal. Zachary sank down heavily on the couch and sighed shakily. The sudden ringing of the doorbell caused him to jump.
Who could be calling on him now? He glanced at the clock on the wall: 6:12 pm. He was not expecting Amanda until eight. 'Ah, Amanda,' he thought and was able to smile for the first time that day. 'God she's got great tits.' He was certain that tonight she would finally give in and sleep with him. He had been pressuring her for weeks now. He knew he needed to be careful though, he could not afford to end up on a list like the ones he perused to find his 'reckonings.' That would destroy everything he had worked so hard for.
Zachary sighed, stood up, and walked to the door. As he walked passed the front windows, he glanced out the blinds and saw a van from the local cable company parked in front of the house. His brow furrowed. He had not called the cable company for anything. 'Maybe H did,' he thought.
When he opened the door, he had to work to keep the sudden shock that jolted through his body from registering. It certainly was not anyone from the cable company. SHE was standing there looking as gorgeous as ever in an olive green skirt, a white ruffled poets blouse, and a long leather jacket with her red hair piled up into a clip. Standing immediately behind her, hands clasped behind his back, in a dark blue suit and a black overcoat, stood a tall man that Zachary did not recognize. Zachary noted the quick look they exchanged and he began to panic.
"Hello, I'm special agent Clarice Starling with the FBI.."
'Ah, you gotta love that throaty drawl,' Zachary thought.
"...and this is special agent Will Graham," she smiled and held up her badge. "Would you mind if we came in and asked you a few questions?"
"With regards to what?" Zachary asked and struggled to keep his voice from shaking. His master had not trained him for this yet.
"There has been a string of violent home invasions in the neighborhood over the last two months and we'd just like to ask you if you have any information about them," Will said instantly.
Zachary noticeably relaxed. "Oh, um, okay, sure but I haven't even heard of anything like that happening around here." He stepped aside so the federal agents could walk in. 'Maybe this is some truly ironic coincidence, Zach, just relax,' he told himself. "Have a seat," he motioned to the couches in the living room.
"Thank you," Clarice replied and sat down. She pulled out a small notebook and a pen from her jacket pocket, removed her jacket and laid it on the couch next to her.
Will, however, continued to stand. He scanned the room quickly and wandered nonchalantly over to the bookshelves. Clarice quickly scanned the room as well and saw nothing she would instantly link to Dr. Lecter, although the home was tastefully furnished and meticulously clean. Zachary stood behind the couch opposite the one Clarice was on and eyed Will warily, he did not want the man snooping around.
"Can I get you two something to drink?" He asked.
"No, thank you," Clarice replied and flashed her bright smile at him again. "Can I have your name please?"
"Zachary Michael Matthews."
"How long have you lived here?"
"About four years I guess."
"Do you own this house?"
"No, it's leased."
"And you are the leasee?"
"What does this have to do with home invasion robberies?" Zachary asked, suddenly becoming suspicious.
Clarice smiled again. "I'm sorry but I cannot disclose that information at this time." She decided to switch tactics. She knew he was eyeing her legs appreciatively and she hoped maybe she could catch him off guard. "What do you do for a living Zachary?"
"I'm a student at Georgetown. I'm a senior and I've been accepted at Johns Hopkins University next fall to attain my graduate degree in psychiatry and behavioral sciences," Zachary replied proudly, smiling.
At his words, Will turned around from the bookshelves and looked over Zachary's head to Clarice. They exchanged another glance and Will raised his eyebrow slightly and nodded his head at her.
"Well congratulations," Clarice smiled broadly, looking back to Zachary. She remained silent, in an attempt to draw more information out of him.
Zachary smiled and continued to study her legs. From there his eyes roamed greedily up to her waist and then on to her breasts. 'Damn,' he thought, 'now I know what H sees in her. She's fucking hot.' He glanced over at Will who looked over at him and nodded briefly. 'I wonder if H knows about him. God, how can he spend his days with her and not jump her? I'd fucking be all over her. Damn!'
Then Zachary noticed Will was beginning to work his way closer to the hallway that led to his and Lecter's rooms. He began to panic. 'Shit, why did I let them in?' His mind screamed at him. "Um, why don't I go get us something to drink?" He asked.
Clarice glanced at Will who shook his head slightly. "We're fine, Zachary, thank you though. So you lease this home?"
He nodded nervously and his eyes bounced back to Will. "Yup."
"Really?" Clarice questioned.
"Yeah, well actually my dad does." Zachary's panic was about to overtake him. He saw no way out of this. They had caught him. 'What do I do?' His mind screamed. 'Dammit, why isn't H here?' Then he remembered the gun. It was in the desk drawer on the other side of the room where the bookshelves and the hall were, close to where the other agent stood.
"Tell me about your dad, Zachary," Clarice said steadily. "What is he like?"
Zachary began very slowly inching across the room in the direction of the desk. "Oh you know, he's on my ass about school all the time. He's a regular dad I guess."
"What does he do for a living?"
"Um," Zachary stammered. "Well, he's a doctor."
"What kind of doctor?" Clarice asked.
"A psychiatrist."
Will and Clarice glanced at one another again.
Will reached the hallway and peered down. "What's down here?" He asked.
"Nothing, just bedrooms," Zachary said, continuing to inch toward the desk. He was almost there, just a few more steps.
"Mind if I take a look?" Will asked.
Zachary shrugged. While he did not want the agent to look in either bedroom, he realized he would have a better chance at escape if one of them was out of the room. "Sure, I guess," he said nonchalantly.
Will disappeared down the hall. Zachary continued his slow progress toward the desk.
"Where are you going, Zachary?"
"Um," he said. "I don't know."
"Then stop moving," Clarice ordered.
Zachary did as he was told. He looked at the desk, he was so close. But it was still an arm's distance away. He was unsure how to proceed without drawing her suspicion. He knew he could not make any sudden movements. They stared at one another for a moment, he standing near the desk, she sitting on the couch.
"Do you have a picture of your father, Zachary?" Clarice asked finally.
"Sure," he replied and breathed a sigh of relief. This was his chance. He took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. "There's a photo album in the desk here."
"Can I see it?"
"Yeah sure." Zachary stepped to the desk, bent down, and opened the drawer. He placed his hand over the gun, closed his eyes briefly, and took another deep breath. It was now or never.
In the blink of an eye, Zachary pulled the gun out of the drawer, whirled around, and aimed it at Clarice. Her eyes widened in surprise and she reached for her own gun. She pulled her trigger a split second before he did then she turned and ducked to avoid his bullet. But she was not fast enough. The bullet caught her in the back of her right shoulder and she yelped. Her bullet struck Zachary in this left side and he clutched at it but remained upright, pointing his gun in her direction. She remained on the floor and on her hands and knees, began to crawl around the couch to stay out of his sight. He made his way toward the front door on shaky legs, keeping his eyes on the couch in case Clarice made another move to shoot him.
Out of the corner of his eye, Zachary saw movement in the hallway and turned his gun in that direction. Will lunged into the room, his gun raised. Zachary fired first but the bullet missed and lodged in the wall. Will fired two shots at Zachary, hitting him first in the right shoulder to disable his shooting arm and secondly directly in the stomach to put him down. The boy fell with a grunt, blood escaping onto the floor, staining the expensive Oriental rug underneath him in front of the entryway to the front door.
Gun still outstretched, Will moved to where Zachary lay, picked up the boy's gun and put it in his coat pocket, looking down at him. Zachary's eyes were clenched tight and he clutched his stomach.
"Fuck this hurts," he groaned
"Shut up," Will said contemptuously. "Bleed in silence."
He bent down slowly and felt Zachary's pulse. It felt relatively strong, the little bastard would live. Only then did Will holster his gun. The back-up agents who had been waiting in the van that Zachary had observed, Seth Williams, Keith Greene, and Sheila Parks kicked open the door and rushed in, guns raised. They lowered them when they saw the situation was under control. Clarice groaned and Will went to her. He and Seth each put an arm around her and helped her up onto the couch. She sat down, clutched her right shoulder and they saw blood quickly spreading over her blouse.
"Let me see," Will said and moved her hand.
Fortunately, the bullet had only nicked her as it had flown by. She had an ugly gash in the back of her shoulder but at least there was no bullet inside her. She groaned.
"Dammit, what a rookie mistake," she muttered.
"Don't worry about that." Will said and hurried in the direction of the hallway.
Seth sat next to Clarice and inspected the wound. Keith Greene helped Zachary sit up and Sheila Parks pulled out her cell phone to call in the incident in to the Bureau. Will re-emerged from the hall with a hand towel from the bathroom. He untucked the back of her blouse and reached up inside it to place the towel on the wound. "Hold this here," he instructed. "We gotta get you to a hospital."
Clarice shook her head. "No, I'm not going to the hospital."
"Yes you are Clarice, you have a hole in your back." Will argued.
"But there's no bullet. I'll be fine. I'm not going to the hospital," she repeated. "I'm tired and in pain, I don't wanna sit in the emergency room for five hours. Besides, we need to see if Lecter comes home."
Will sighed and turned to Seth who was shaking his head at Clarice's stubbornness. "Call an ambulance for the little asshole over there," he said gesturing to the bleeding Zachary.
An hour later, Zachary had been taken away in an ambulance with Agent Parks accompanying him. Shortly before his departure, Kendra Mitchell had arrived on scene with ten other agents. She had ordered them to begin scouring the home for evidence. Clarice and Will had been outraged.
"You cannot have agents traipsing around through the house right now," Clarice had argued, working to ignore her flaring shoulder. "We need to stake it out and wait for Dr. Lecter to return."
"We need to get the evidence out now," Kendra had replied coldy.
"Fuck that," Will had spat. "The evidence will still be there tomorrow. If Lecter comes home and sees us all over it, he's gone. We'll never see him again. This is our best shot."
"We are collecting the evidence now," Kendra had retorted. "If you two are going to stick around then why don't you go wait in the van and stay out of our way. I'll get the agents out as soon as we've got enough."
Clarice had sighed, defeated. She pulled Will by the arm in the direction of the van.
"No," Will had argued but still allowed her to lead him away. "This is fucking bullshit."
"I know," Clarice had said quietly.
Now, Kendra and the other agents were still moving through the house. Clarice saw their chances at nabbing Lecter slipping through their fingers. Other agents sat in parked cars at either end of the street, keeping their eyes peeled for the doctor but she knew he would be able to spot them from a mile away, he was too clever. Clarice and Will were inside the van, awaiting Lecter's return. Clarice looked at her watch. Almost 8:00 pm. She moaned slightly, clutching her right shoulder as a bolt of pain shot through it. Will looked at her and even in the dimming light of the van she looked pale. He turned to Seth and another agent, Carlos Vega.
"Hey, I should get Clarice home. She needs to rest. You guys think you can handle this without us?"
Seth smiled. "Yeah, get outta here you two." He paused. "We'll call you on your cell Clarice if there are any developments but I highly doubt there will be. Lecter's too smart for all of this. I bet he's already long gone thanks to the Devil incarnate."
Clarice smiled bleakly. "Thanks, guys. I'm sorry to bail on you but I feel awful."
"No worries," Seth said and squeezed his friend's hand. "I'll be sure and let 'Delia know you're alright. Take care of yourself."
"Thanks, Seth."
They exited the van and Will helped her walk to the next block where he had moved her car to keep it out of sight. She sat down heavily in the passenger seat and leaned her head back against the head rest as Will closed the door. He walked around to the driver side, got in, and started the engine. He looked over at her.
"Alright, first thing's first, we need to get some food into you. You've hardly had anything to eat today and you've had a bit of blood loss so we'll hit the drive through and get some cheeseburgers to eat in the car. Then we're going to your house, getting you cleaned up, and you're going to bed." He paused and grinned wryly. "And don't argue with me about this, Starling, I mean it. This time you're at my mercy."
Clarice grunted her approval and closed her eyes.
Will opened the door to Clarice's home and stood back to let her enter. He walked in behind her, closed the door, and threw her keys on the coffee table. Clarice walked in, kicked off her pumps, walked to the breakfast nook and sat down on one of the stools. She swiveled her head around and rubbed her neck with her left hand. Her right arm was held protectively at her side. She was feeling better since getting some food into her although her shoulder continued to ache terribly.
"Fuck this hurts," she spat. "I know the bastard just nicked me, but this hurts almost as bad as actually being shot."
"I bet," Will said sympathetically. "You got anything to clean it up and bandage it with?"
"In the bathroom," Clarice nodded in the direction of the hallway.
He nodded and disappeared down the hall. Clarice got up and pulled a bottle of whiskey from the kitchen cupboard. She poured herself a drink and sat back down heavily on the stool. She finished the drink in one gulp and poured herself another. Will re-emerged laden with rubbing alcohol, bandages, antibacterial ointment, a washcloth, and a bottle of ibuprofen. He saw her glass and the bottle.
"Self medicating are we?" He grinned and held up the ibuprofen. "I was gonna give you some of these but if you would prefer the whiskey then I won't argue with you this time." He paused. "But only 'cuz you've been shot."
"Give 'em to me anyway," Clarice said and reached for the medicine.
Will pulled the bottle back. "No way, you can't have both. That's bad for you, you know, mixing drugs."
"Well that's the pot calling the kettle black," Clarice retored.
Will grinned but said nothing and laid everything out on the nook. He rummaged in the cupboards until he found a bowl and went to the sink to fill it with warm water. While his back was turned, Clarice grabbed the bottle of ibuprofen and popped it open. The motion caused her right shoulder to scream in pain.
"Shit!" Clarice exclaimed. She cupped her right shoulder with her left hand and tears sprung to her eyes. She wiped them away, put three of the tablets in her mouth, and washed them down with her drink.
Will set the bowl of water down on the nook, removed his tie, unbuttoned his top button, and rolled up his shirt sleeves. He looked at her grimacing face unsympathetic. "I told you it was a bad idea. Alright, take off your shirt Starling."
Clarice looked up at him and gave him an amused look. "Agent Graham, I'm not that easy."
"Clarice, you're not easy at all in fact most of the time you're down right difficult." He grinned at her. "Now come on, take it off. If you won't let me take you to the hospital, then I've gotta clean it myself because you can't see it or reach it." He paused and she made no movement to remove her blouse. He rolled his eyes. "I'll be a good boy, I promise."
Clarice half-smiled and began unbuttoning her blouse. "Good thing I wore my nice bra today, not the ones with all the little holes in 'em."
"I don't know," Will replied mischievously, "a bra full of holes might be kinda fun." He paused. "Well, for me anyway."
Clarice slugged him playfully on the shoulder with her uninjured arm. She took off her blouse, grimacing when she moved her right shoulder, looked at the huge bloodstain and the hole from the passing bullet, and threw it on the floor. "Dammit," she said. "That was one of my favorite blouses."
"I'm sorry," Will said. "The sacrifices we make for this job, huh?"
Clarice was suddenly self conscious about being half naked in front of him and chided herself for it. 'He's my partner,' she reminded herself again. 'Knock it off.'
Will sat down on the stool next to hers, spun hers around so that her back was to him, picked up the washcloth, soaked it in the warm water and began to remove the towel that he had put on the wound at Lecter's house. He peeled it off gently but the clotted blood stuck and Clarice hissed as it was removed and the wound was partially re-opened.
"Sorry," he whispered as he applied the washcloth to the back of her shoulder.
He dabbed at the wound to cleanse it as best he could. It had begun to bleed again so once it was clean, he held the washcloth on it to help it re- clot. While he held it in place, he glanced up at the side of her face. Her bright chestnut hair was piled up into a clip today and small locks hung down the sides of her face. As he leaned in to check the clotting, he could smell the mingled scent of her hair and her perfume and he breathed it in. It had literally been years since he'd been this close to a woman and he had forgotten how sweet they smell and how soft they were. He looked at her bare, porcelain shoulders and her smooth, straight back and wondered what she would taste like as he ran his tongue along them. He shook his head slightly.
'Stop this,' he thought. 'She's your partner for Christ's sake, you dirty old man.'
Clarice turned her head slightly and met his gaze. They smiled at each other and she looked back down to the counter. She mused that she had not really noticed before how shockingly blue his eyes were. His touch as he cleaned her wound was light and gentle as a feather. Clarice closed her eyes and smiled to herself. Will soaked the washcloth again in the now red- colored water and then held it back on her shoulder. She glanced back at him again and smiled demurely.
"Thank you," she said almost in a whisper.
"You're welcome."
When the wound had pretty well clotted, Will got up and moved to the sink. Clarice's eyes hungrily followed his every moment. He rinsed the washcloth in the sink, rung it out, and opened the bottle of rubbing alcohol. He moved to sit back down on the stool behind her.
"This is gonna hurt like a bitch," he said softly.
Clarice nodded. "I know," she whispered.
Will held the washcloth against her shoulder just under the wound as he poured the alcohol over it. Clarice hissed and held her breath until he was done. He pressed the washcloth against the wound to be sure it was well-cleansed. Clarice squeezed her eyes tight shut as her shoulder burned and flared and tears formed behind her eyelids. After awhile, Will dropped the washcloth onto the nook, ripped open one of the bandages, and began to cover the red, clotted gap in her shoulder. Clarice rubbed her eyes and looked over her shoulder at him. As he pressed the last bandage on, he caught her gaze and held it.
"You need stitches but since you're too stubborn to go to the hospital, you have to remember to change the bandages every few hours or so and put that antibiotic ointment on it each time," Will replied.
"I'm gonna need someone's help to do that, I can't reach it very well myself," Clarice said and continued to hold his gaze.
Will nodded. They continued to gaze at each other for a moment before Will broke it and looked away. "That's gonna scar," he gestured with his chin toward her shoulder.
Clarice swiveled her stool around and their knees touched. She pointed to her left shoulder where she had been shot five years earlier as she had attempted to rescue Lecter. A clean, smooth, white scar ran across her shoulder. It was so thin it was almost invisible in her milky skin. Will could see the care and masterful work that had gone into stitching it up.
"That's ok, I've already got another one," she grinned up at him.
Will ran his right forefinger across it. "That's the one Lecter healed isn't it?" He asked softly. "He saved your life and you saved his."
A pained look crossed her face briefly as Clarice nodded, remembering. She looked into his eyes and leaned forward ever so slightly. Will gently brushed a strand of her hair away from her face and sighed softly. He willed himself to look away from her again but he could not, she was intoxicating. He leaned forward slightly and their mouths locked together. They kissed softly. Clarice put her arms around his neck and his arms went around her waist, pulling her closer. He could faintly taste the alcohol on her sweet lips. She broke the kiss, looked into his eyes, and smiled. Will pulled her stool up against his.
They gazed at each other again. 'Don't do this,' Will's mind screamed at him and this time he did look down at the floor. 'You know the consequences, don't do this.'
But he had come to care for her tremendously. Not only had she helped save his life, she had also become a good friend. In the relatively short time they had spent together lately he had found himself craving to just be near her, just to see her, just to talk with her. And because of her he had found strength he never knew he had.
Clarice touched his cheek softly and he met her gaze. He kissed her and this time their open mouths searched for each other in a desperate urgency. Their hands roamed and explored. Will undid the clip that held her hair and it cascaded down around her shoulders, glinting like red embers in the late evening sun that streamed through the blinds. He ran his hands through it and breathed in deeply its scent. He planted soft kisses up and down her neck and on the tops of her shoulders. When he nibbled her ear slightly, he heard her moan faintly and she pressed closer into him. Clarice slid her tongue down his neck and began to undo the buttons on his shirt. She slid her hand into his shirt and began to caress his chest. He suddenly pulled away.
"I'm sorry," Will shook his head and sat back on the stool.
"What's wrong?" Clarice asked.
"I don't know, I just..." he trailed off and shook his head. He looked at her and his face was pained. "Molly was the only woman, well besides nurses, to see me with my shirt off. It's not a pretty sight and I'm just kind of embarrassed I guess." He shrugged. "You've got a nice little scar, mine are atrocious. They weren't stitched up nicely like yours was."
Clarice took his hands in hers. "I don't care. I mean, come on Will, after everything you and I have been through together, do you really think some scars are gonna change the way I feel about you?"
Will lowered his gaze. "I guess not."
"It's okay," Clarice whispered. She lifted his head with her hand and their eyes met. "It's okay."
She leaned in and kissed him deeply. He allowed her to remove his shirt. She broke the kiss and looked down at his chest. He had three round raised white scars clustered closely together on his chest from being shot by Francis Dolarhyde. Clarice ran her thumb over them then leaned down and kissed each scar in turn, her tongue snaked out over them. Will's head fell back and he moaned throatily. Then she noticed the jagged scar that ran along the left side of his flat stomach. She ran her thumb along it and looked into his eyes. He returned her gaze unblinking. She bent down and ran her tongue along it slowly. He moaned and when she straightened up, he took her face in his hands and kissed her passionately. Clarice pressed her body closer into his. His hands ran up her skirt, stroking her inner thighs and she moaned into his mouth. Then without warning, his mind's eye flashed the memory of Lecter plunging that stiletto into his stomach and Will pulled away again, his emotions torn.
"You know, he mended yours Clarice," Will whispered huskily, "but he gave me mine."
Clarice knew Will was talking about Lecter and their scars. She nodded and gazed into his eyes.
"He loves you, you know," Will continued. "Probably more than either of us knows."
Clarice nodded again and lowered her gaze.
Will shook his head and sighed heavily. "He will literally kill me for this." He whispered painfully.
Clarice looked back into his eyes and saw fear burn within them. It pained her and she ached to calm him. "I won't let him." She paused and kissed Will's nose lightly. "Besides, he'll never know."
'Yes he will,' he thought. 'He watches us, Clarice.' But he said nothing. His inner turmoil raged. After years of loneliness and heartache, he had found someone he connected with. He had found someone who understood him, probably more than Molly ever had, and he understood her. But she was loved by a madman and that terrified him.
"Will," Clarice replied softly. "It's alright. You don't have to do this. If you don't want me..."
"Clarice I do," he said instantly. He sighed shakily. "It's just that I'm afraid. I'm afraid of the consequences of us becoming lovers. I'm afraid of the consequences of us caring deeply for each other."
"But Will, I already care for you deeply," Clarice replied and smiled. "It's okay."
"Then I'm afraid of the consequences of us maybe loving each other."
"Will," she whispered. "It's alright. Just be with me."
He looked into her eyes again and all he could see was her. In that moment all that mattered was her. And she was so warm, so soft that he just wanted to lose himself in her.
Clarice brushed his lips with hers and planted little kisses on his cheek and neck until she reached his ear. "Make love to me, Will," she purred into his ear and licked it.
That was all he needed. Shutting out the consequences, Will clamped his mouth over hers and pulled her off her stool on top of him so she was straddling him. She wrapped her legs around his back and they moaned simultaneously. He stood up, and carried her to the bedroom.
To be continued. Please review!
Author's Note: I know that A LOT of you are not going to like this chapter and I apologize, but for the story, it had to be done!! So please no hate mail!! You can tell me your opinions but don't verbally abuse me..much!
Sorry, no reviews to your reviews this time. Next time I promise I will as I'm sure many of you will have a lot to say about this chapter! But thank you all so much for your great reviews...I love them.
