A/N I'm so caught up in this story I'm writing it from in a airplane! I only own the idea. Please review.
Part of her hoped he would stop her when she came back in before she reached the front door. Silence clung to the house like the guilt that clung to her spirit and she walked out before her scent had left the room.
These streets they had wandered so many times before felt suddenly bare. All the greenery, all the charm of the little shops, she passed it all by with unseeing eyes. Muscle memory was the cause for where she stood now.
He had said gelato would be fitting given their location. She had agreed but secretly she would always prefer ice cream. She found his option too sweet and thick, it made her throat feel clogged like blood, like the tears she choked back. Why the fuck couldn't he just give a little?
Needing something she could get lost in she made her way to a club. What better than music? The loud obnoxious kind he wouldn't be caught dead listening to. A hint of a smile ghosted across her lips. She had kept herself so defined for him in hopes it would bring him closer. Clearly it had not. Now it was time to dance.
Oh it was juvenile to sway her hips and stretch her hands in the air. The calm it gave her was worth the regression however and she danced on. Her skin crackled with the feel of eyes on her. Not his, that would have stilled the room. Looking over her shoulder she shook her head firmly at the over interested man. Remembering a time with bars between them when the Doctor asked if she had ever felt eyes on her skin made her stop dancing. Feeling the eyes now was easy. Knowing they were not his, was not.
Sitting at a table she caught the servers attention and ordered a glass of water. Acting like a teenager was one thing. Coming back home smelling like one was another. Could she call it home now? Was she welcome there? She didn't glance at her water as she raised it to her lips.
After a few minutes more the music became too loud and the crowd too thick. This had been a terrible idea. Feeling the room shift around her, she wished it was the piano in her ears and not this thumping base line. Something was wrong. Water should not make her feel this way. Fuck! Had someone spiked her drink? This was bad.
Panic came then. Swallowing it down she stood up on legs that were already too unsteady. Catching the table with her hand she registered movement in the corner of her vision. The man from before was approaching.
Cold air on her skin. How had she gotten outside. Hannibal, his name in her mind. Hope swelled inside of her but was extinguished when she felt hands on her. Rough and urgent pulling up her dress. A slurred voice in her ear and unwelcome warmth pressing up against her exposed skin.
A switch flicked then and she turned on the fool. Fury was unleashed she hadn't known she possessed until it was too late. Blood on her hands. Blood on the dress. Were his eyes stuck to her fingernails? Gagging in horror she pulled herself back. Something that might have been a whimper or a sob or both escaped her mouth. It mingled with the sprawled mans cries of agony at her feet.
Hannibal's ears picked up her sound easily from where he had been looking for her. It filled him with dread. Unexpected thoughts of Mischa haunted him as he ran to where she was. All thoughts of his sister halted when he saw Clarice covered in blood with a man at her feet.
Now he was there. After she gouged a man's eyes out. Oh god, she couldn't breathe. Would he kill him in front of her? Make her devour his flesh with him? Oh god. Oh god! Breath hitching in her throat, she felt herself falling.
Hands this time, ones she knew broke her fall. Why were they not breaking this man's neck? Oh god. If he killed it would be her fault if it led to his capture. Shaking, a sob broke from her lungs full of fear.
Had he thought it was fear towards him? His hands left her then as if she had burnt him. He only touched her dress now as he pulled it back down. There was the pain in his eyes again. She shook her head to correct him but he was no longer looking at her. He had turned his attention to the man on the ground.
"Don't," it came from her lips a whisper. She flinched when she heard the mans neck snap. The silence that followed was worse then any sound; be it lamb or man could ever make.
One foot in front of another took them back to the house. When he opened the door he did not enter. Was he waiting for her to do so? Did she deserve to do so? She had hurt him and now put his freedom at risk.
The voice that interrupted her thoughts was different. "Clarice, come inside now."
Was this where he said something about not drawing any more attention? The request ended without words but with his hand on her arm. Was he pulling lightly? More insistent now and a flash of something in his eyes. Had his voice wavered?
"Clarice, inside." Letting him pull her in felt like a odd dance. The detachment from the situation at hand only allowed her mind to register this briefly before panic once again took over. What had she done? What had he done? Again her breath came to fast and she couldn't catch it.
Suddenly his eyes were close. Fingers on her cheeks wiping something off. Was it blood or tears? From how his fingers ran over her cheek he didn't seem to care either way.