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For the Moment

copyright 2001, by Sacara

Disclaimer:    The characters Dr. Hannibal Lecter and Clarice Starling were created by Thomas Harris.  They are used herein without permission, but in the spirit of admiration and respect.  No infringement of copyright is intended, and no profit, of any kind, is made by the creator, maintainer or contributors to this site.

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Blue eyes searching around –– she was in an elevator.

It was four foot square, a plush carpet, underneath elegant Gucci shoes, stained and worn by hundreds of feet coming in from anywhere, trailing muddy suitcases after them.

The walls were covered in the ruddy soft carpet and a dim lamp was the only light source in the tiny roof. One wall was mirrored. Why that –– do they try to make the place seem bigger? If so, they never succeeded. 

A soft creaking noise –– the lift suddenly came to a standstill. Not again. 

She strained her ears to hear any sound of the elevator moving, but in vain. This elevator was dead, as dead as her early childhood belief in an honest government. Stuck again in a minute elevator in the back of her former place of work, the FBI building.

Dizziness seized her like a huge wave and in her head the recurring images of her past: the cellar in Gumb’s house, all those disgusting moths –– multiple Miggs cracking up in his dark cell, then Ivelda falling again and again in slow motion the baby pressed to her body after the deadly shot ...dizzy so dizzy ... Krendler, with his brain uncovered gleaming in candlelight –– then the most painful piece of the jigsaw puzzle: Brigham, lying there on the street, dead. Her ally, her friend. No, no please not again. She couldn’t go through that all over again. ‘I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe in here! Please, please, please, GET THIS DAMN ELEVATOR RUNNING!’  

She bit her lower lip bloody, tasting the sweet tang of iron, the salt...

Her nails dug deeper into the callused spots of her petite hands.

The tiny room began to spin around. She was thrown against the four walls, her pale horrified face flashing at her in the mirrored wall.

Faster and faster. Terrible details of her eventful life swept into her abused mind.... stop, please stop.... 

With a scream former Special Agent Clarice Starling, FBI, awoke from a nightmare, a nightmare which has haunted her for a long time. It haunted her like the unceasing screams of the lambs.

Clarice sat upright in her bed. Darkness surrounded her. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, outlines of her bedroom becoming apparent by the minimal light of the moon.

She unclenched her fists the panic dissolved slowly. Clarice felt the sweat beads on her forehead and wiped the now cool liquid off her face. Her nightgown also wet from perspiration was stuck to the features of her slender body.  

She was so tired, tired of waking in the middle of the night, alone, waiting to fall asleep again. This dream came to her out of the depth of her consciousness like a dreadful monster that had crept out of the moor to frighten people.

Why an elevator? Clarice couldn’t remember being afraid of confined spaces, claustrophobia was never an issue. Then why this dream? 

Clarice shook her head with resignation. With both hands she rubbed her tired eyes. Maybe she really should ask him, but she was afraid.

She didn’t want him to see her as his patient. She had tried to tell him lots of times and always backed out, because she wanted him as a man not a doctor - if she needed treatment she could go to a psychiatrist. Clarice scoffed, that was a lie of course, she would never in her life make an appointment.

Clarice was certain that he would find a solution to her problem, but .... she sighed deeply ... we’ll see! 

A quick glance over her right shoulder at the watch on her nightstand made her realize that sunrise was due in more than three hours. It was no use trying to sleep now. The last times she had awaked out of this nightmare it turned out to be a tossing and turning while brooding about the most unconceivable things. Clarice stood up thinking that she could reflect on the meaning of life another night.  

She put on a dressing gown and went to the living room. She switched on the lights to prevent from falling over one the boxes that were still scattered about the room.

Warm light filled the huge room. Its high ceilings and big windows increasing the effect. The room looked like an antique shop, the most beautiful things were distributed over the space.

Clarice walked over to her favorite. It was the first precious gift she had received from him. An antique bureau made from rosewood, she stroked the smooth varnish of the piece. She just loved all the little drawers and secret spaces the bureau provided.

She turned slowly around the room smiling to herself, everything reminded her of him.  

Clarice went into the kitchen to fetch herself a drink. She came back out with a campari orange and sat down on the pompous maroon leather suite. Goosebumps covered her delicate skin and she covered herself with a blanket, feeling chilly all of a sudden.

She slid down just a few inches to lean her head against the soft material. The drink tasted wonderful and fresh and for a moment Clarice just closed her eyes. 

Former agent Starling thought about the serious changes in her life. 

She was free now. No longer did she have to tolerate the macho-like behavior of her superiors that treated her like a nuisance from time to time. She was her own boss now, what a satisfying feeling!

And even if she hadn’t her best friend Ardelia anymore, who she missed sadly, the mere thought of him set her in a state of euphoria. Him of course was Doctor Hannibal Lecter, her ... well .. what exactly should she call him. She was with him now for almost 16 months and that was all. Hannibal came and went whenever he liked, not saying where he would go or where he had been, not even telling her how long he intended to stay. He treated her with utmost generosity and of course provided her with the most unimaginable gifts and all other needful things, but there was not one single thing that he had revealed about himself. When he was there, there was her apartment, or when they went on a trip together to somewhere all over the world, they surely held never-ending thoroughly intellectual discussions about anything, but they never really talked. She had tried to but he wouldn’t give her an inch.

She certainly loved him with all her heart, how else could she have stayed with him, after what he had done, but she wanted more of him. She needed him, especially in nights like tonight when she has waked up bathed in sweat.

Clarice also knew that she feared to tell him about these thoughts, because she didn’t know how he would react. He needed his newly gained freedom more than the air he breathed and she was afraid that he needed it more than her. If she challenged him to decide maybe he would leave her. And that she wouldn’t be able to bear. 

Her glass was empty but Clarice was too exhausted to get another drink. She put it on the table in front of her and leaned back again.  

“Where are you now, Hannibal? Please if you can hear me, I need you tonight more than ever!” all of a sudden she sensed that he would come tonight. She just said it aloud to assure herself. 

She lay down on the broad couch and minutes later she fell asleep. 

A key was turned in the lock and the door to her apartment opened. Hannibal Lecter entered the room. He smelled the air and smiled. It smelled like Clarice, his Clarice.

It was 6 days ago that he had done the same and he longed to hold her in his arms again, touch her soft skin and breath in her unique scent.

Hannibal put his elegant long dark coat on a hanger and into the closet, then walked through the hall to the living room. He noticed the lights there, deep wrinkles appeared on his forehead.

After a quick look into the bedroom he noticed that she wasn’t in bed. He was getting worried, why wasn’t she sound asleep in her warm bed at 2.30 a.m.?

Lecter found her on the couch in the living room, sleeping. He propped himself on the back rest and just admired the sleeping beauty. She lay there calmly, totally relaxed. ‘She’s all mine’ he thought and still not quite believed it.

With the very tips of her fingers he stroked her cheek, it wasn’t more than a feathery touch, because he didn’t want to wake her. Despite his caution Clarice woke and opened her eyes. 

Their eyes met and if was like a firework. Nothing had changed since the first time. A broad smile appeared on her beautiful face and she held out both hands. 

“Come here Hannibal!” it wasn’t a request. 

Hannibal went around the couch to lie down beside her. They just held each other, for a while they enjoyed the company of one another, but after some time that wasn’t enough. Hannibal threw away the blanket not caring where it landed. His hands roamed over her slender body. Dozens of images for his memory palace, he couldn’t get enough of those. His fingers and his mouth were everywhere. Clarice had stopped thinking, she just enjoyed the things he did to her body, one shiver after another ran down her spine.

Hannibal longed to taste her - all of her, he pulled up her gown and tore the panties off her body. He teased her with his lips and tongue his fingers sank deep into her sweetness. Several times he brought her to the outer edge to hold back again, then she finally climaxed with a scream that was hastily muffled with his mouth on hers. In his kiss she tasted herself and Hannibal’s unique flavor.

Clarice thought they would make love now, but he just pulled down the fabric of her gown again and lied down beside her, one arm around her body.

She didn’t know what to do. Should she ask him, but what if he got angry. She didn’t want to disturb the atmosphere. How long will he stay, this time she wondered.

Again they enjoyed just being with one another. Hannibal dozed off feeling completely safe in her arms. Only some forty minutes later he stirred and sat up. 

“Hannibal what is it?”  

“I have to go, my love!”  

“But you’ve just come home!” tears filled her lovely eyes. 

“I know, I’ll be back in two days, there’s some business I have to pursue!” he stroked her cheeks and wiped away the tears. 

Clarice just shook her head sadly.  

“I can’t go on like this!” she said sulkily. 

“I know my little Clarice and things will change, believe me! The next time I am home I’ll stay longer!”  

“Said that before!”  

Lecter stood up, his face a wooden mask. He looked at her for some time and eventually smiled. 

Clarice smiled back. He turned and went into the hall. Then she heard the knocking of the closet door, his coat, finally the entrance door was closed quietly with a clicking sound.

It wasn’t enough, not nearly, but it was enough for the moment....   

FIN

copyright 2001, by Sacara

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No infringement of rights is intended and no profit, of any kind, is made.