Disclaimer: I do not own of the these characters, and I make no profit…
This story is now complete, but I'm holding the chapter's hostage till I see some reviews!!! Lol, only kidding. Depending on the response I'll post some more maybe tomorrow. Enjoy dear ones. xxxxx
It had been a long day, and Clarice Starling wanted nothing more than a hot bath, a glass of jack Daniels and a warm bed. As Clarice pulled up at her front door and climbed out her old mustang, the first thing she noticed was a warm light emanating from her window. She stood in contemplative silence for a few minutes her mind trying to drift through the fog that was her day, and remember if she had in fact been sloppy enough this morning to leave the light on. She didn't think so. She had her routine in the morning, had done for years, and it was not like her to overlook sometime as regular as turning the lights out before she left.
As she reached for her .45, which was safely tucked away in its holster, she considered calling for back up. Just as quick as it had entered her mind it left, and she almost laughed at herself for being so overly dramatic, not to mention the damage it would do to her already rocky reputation in the office. She could imagine it now, the laughs and jibes from the male populace that was the FBI, the little lady needing help. She scoffed, that would be the day.
So after much deliberation she felt as though she had standing outside her front porch for hours, had actually only been seconds, she slowly climbed the steps of her duplex her hands wrapped tightly around her 45, held tightly against her thigh. She slinked up against her door, her ear pressed to the smooth contours, listening for anything out of the ordinary. Nothing. With the gun still pressed tightly to her side she carefully tried the door, trying not to make a noise, but was relieved when she found she couldn't open it. Letting out a long breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding, she fished for her keys and slowly opened the door, swinging it open she cautiously stepped inside, looking around every corner before proceeding she eventually made it to the living room, where she found the small table lamp, indeed on.
With a quick check to the rest of the house she was sure that there hadn't been any intruders, and she must have left the light on this morning right enough. Relaxing slightly she stretched her stiff muscles, trying to ease some of the days tension out of them.
" I need I drink" she thought to herself, and quickly disarmed herself throwing her gun and holster onto the settee, and making her way to the kitchen, rubbing the back of her neck as she went.
Once in the kitchen and with a soothing Jack Daniels in hand, she suddenly realised that it had been almost fourteen hours since she had last eaten, it wasn't until she was finished her drink did she realise this and by that time she could feel it going straight to her head. She placed both palms onto the island in the kitchen and steadied herself, feeling the telltale signs of tipsiness coming over her. It wasn't an altogether bad feeling, she quite licked it actually, it had been long enough since she had been all out drunk and it felt unusually comforting to feel it again, like an old friend. "Be that as it may" she thought " I better get something in my stomach or I wont make it to the bed" she laughed a little, whether at the fact she was talking to her self, or the fact that she was well on her way to becoming drunk as a skink she didn't want to over think, "best just enjoying it while I can" she contemplated.
"Bath!" she called to the room, " I am going to have a bath" and with a nod of the head as if to punctuated what she was saying, she giddily make her way to the bathroom and turned on the two faucets full spray. Leaving the bath to run itself, she suddenly realised that she was yet to eat anything, and if the growl that came from her toned stomach, as if on queue, was anything to go by, she certainly needed it. Making her way back to kitchen, albeit a little unsteadily, she proceeded to go through each cupboard, steadily searching for something that she deemed acceptable, which in this case would be anything without a bad expiration date, or green mould clinging to it. Finding nothing, but the bottle of Jack d's she had left earlier, she though "what the hell" and poured herself another large helping. Taking a rather large swig, she paused to savour the feeling of the amber liquid rolling over her tongue, and the deep heat she felt as she swallowed, feeling it go all the way down. She knew she shouldn't take anymore as she had to be up at un unearthly hour the following morning, but it was the quit moments like these that she could put her demons to rest, a chance to let the world slip away from under her, and a feeling of peace wash over her. Taking her still full glass with her she make her way back to the bathroom, just in time as the water was dangerously high, and started to peel the sticky clothing from her body, enjoying the cool air from the room wrapping itself around her. Taking a moment to adjust the temperature she slipped into the bubbly heaven, the scent of lavender reaching her dulled senses still. She closed her eyes and let her mind wander to happy times, of playing on the farm when she was young, giggling as her father swung her around in the air during the balmy summer months, of receiving word that she had been accepted into the F.B.I training school, of receiving her first major assignment… Her eyes fluttered open as she had unwontedly opened a door in her mind that she had to constantly close at last 30 seconds in every day. She breathed deeply and reached for her slowly emptying glass as the image of Dr Hannibal lector came unbidden into her mind. Even her alcohol-dulled mind could produce a clear and concise picture of him, as though it had only been yesterday. When she actually thought about it, it had been nearly 2 years since that eventful week, and she could honestly say that not a single day had passed without the good doctor influencing her in one way or another.
She decided that he wasn't going to sneak into her mind tonight, as tonight she had other plans, she was going to curl up in her armchair, with her bottle of jack d's at one side and the TV control on the other. It had been a very long day with the likes of krendler biting at her heels, and she thought she deserved a little rest bite.
Climbing out of the bath was something of an ordeal for special agent Clarice Starling, as the alcohol and heat did not seem to agree with her. She stumbled slightly and found herself on the hard cement floor of the bathroom, looking up at the ceiling as if it where somehow to blame. Climbing slowly, steadily to her feet, she could already feel the bruises that would no doubt appear tomorrow, and the lump at the back of her head. She mumbled something unintelligible as she make her way to her bedroom about never drinking again, and soon found herself dried and robed, and heading back towards the comfy armchair that was waiting for her. Grabbing the bottle as she passed the bathroom, having somewhat forgotten about her declaration a few moments before, she walked into her living room and settled herself in her armchair. She closed her eyes for a few seconds to let the world around her settle, including her stomach, and opened them back up to scan the room for the remote control.
She noticed it almost straight away, she may be admittedly drunk but the instincts that were forced into her from an early age quickly rose to the surface, somewhat groggily, and she was on her feet in a matter of seconds. Her trusty 45. Was no longer where she had left it.
Well? Yes? No? Maybe? Let me know.
This story is now complete, but I'm holding the chapter's hostage till I see some reviews!!! Lol, only kidding. Depending on the response I'll post some more maybe tomorrow. Enjoy dear ones. xxxxx
It had been a long day, and Clarice Starling wanted nothing more than a hot bath, a glass of jack Daniels and a warm bed. As Clarice pulled up at her front door and climbed out her old mustang, the first thing she noticed was a warm light emanating from her window. She stood in contemplative silence for a few minutes her mind trying to drift through the fog that was her day, and remember if she had in fact been sloppy enough this morning to leave the light on. She didn't think so. She had her routine in the morning, had done for years, and it was not like her to overlook sometime as regular as turning the lights out before she left.
As she reached for her .45, which was safely tucked away in its holster, she considered calling for back up. Just as quick as it had entered her mind it left, and she almost laughed at herself for being so overly dramatic, not to mention the damage it would do to her already rocky reputation in the office. She could imagine it now, the laughs and jibes from the male populace that was the FBI, the little lady needing help. She scoffed, that would be the day.
So after much deliberation she felt as though she had standing outside her front porch for hours, had actually only been seconds, she slowly climbed the steps of her duplex her hands wrapped tightly around her 45, held tightly against her thigh. She slinked up against her door, her ear pressed to the smooth contours, listening for anything out of the ordinary. Nothing. With the gun still pressed tightly to her side she carefully tried the door, trying not to make a noise, but was relieved when she found she couldn't open it. Letting out a long breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding, she fished for her keys and slowly opened the door, swinging it open she cautiously stepped inside, looking around every corner before proceeding she eventually made it to the living room, where she found the small table lamp, indeed on.
With a quick check to the rest of the house she was sure that there hadn't been any intruders, and she must have left the light on this morning right enough. Relaxing slightly she stretched her stiff muscles, trying to ease some of the days tension out of them.
" I need I drink" she thought to herself, and quickly disarmed herself throwing her gun and holster onto the settee, and making her way to the kitchen, rubbing the back of her neck as she went.
Once in the kitchen and with a soothing Jack Daniels in hand, she suddenly realised that it had been almost fourteen hours since she had last eaten, it wasn't until she was finished her drink did she realise this and by that time she could feel it going straight to her head. She placed both palms onto the island in the kitchen and steadied herself, feeling the telltale signs of tipsiness coming over her. It wasn't an altogether bad feeling, she quite licked it actually, it had been long enough since she had been all out drunk and it felt unusually comforting to feel it again, like an old friend. "Be that as it may" she thought " I better get something in my stomach or I wont make it to the bed" she laughed a little, whether at the fact she was talking to her self, or the fact that she was well on her way to becoming drunk as a skink she didn't want to over think, "best just enjoying it while I can" she contemplated.
"Bath!" she called to the room, " I am going to have a bath" and with a nod of the head as if to punctuated what she was saying, she giddily make her way to the bathroom and turned on the two faucets full spray. Leaving the bath to run itself, she suddenly realised that she was yet to eat anything, and if the growl that came from her toned stomach, as if on queue, was anything to go by, she certainly needed it. Making her way back to kitchen, albeit a little unsteadily, she proceeded to go through each cupboard, steadily searching for something that she deemed acceptable, which in this case would be anything without a bad expiration date, or green mould clinging to it. Finding nothing, but the bottle of Jack d's she had left earlier, she though "what the hell" and poured herself another large helping. Taking a rather large swig, she paused to savour the feeling of the amber liquid rolling over her tongue, and the deep heat she felt as she swallowed, feeling it go all the way down. She knew she shouldn't take anymore as she had to be up at un unearthly hour the following morning, but it was the quit moments like these that she could put her demons to rest, a chance to let the world slip away from under her, and a feeling of peace wash over her. Taking her still full glass with her she make her way back to the bathroom, just in time as the water was dangerously high, and started to peel the sticky clothing from her body, enjoying the cool air from the room wrapping itself around her. Taking a moment to adjust the temperature she slipped into the bubbly heaven, the scent of lavender reaching her dulled senses still. She closed her eyes and let her mind wander to happy times, of playing on the farm when she was young, giggling as her father swung her around in the air during the balmy summer months, of receiving word that she had been accepted into the F.B.I training school, of receiving her first major assignment… Her eyes fluttered open as she had unwontedly opened a door in her mind that she had to constantly close at last 30 seconds in every day. She breathed deeply and reached for her slowly emptying glass as the image of Dr Hannibal lector came unbidden into her mind. Even her alcohol-dulled mind could produce a clear and concise picture of him, as though it had only been yesterday. When she actually thought about it, it had been nearly 2 years since that eventful week, and she could honestly say that not a single day had passed without the good doctor influencing her in one way or another.
She decided that he wasn't going to sneak into her mind tonight, as tonight she had other plans, she was going to curl up in her armchair, with her bottle of jack d's at one side and the TV control on the other. It had been a very long day with the likes of krendler biting at her heels, and she thought she deserved a little rest bite.
Climbing out of the bath was something of an ordeal for special agent Clarice Starling, as the alcohol and heat did not seem to agree with her. She stumbled slightly and found herself on the hard cement floor of the bathroom, looking up at the ceiling as if it where somehow to blame. Climbing slowly, steadily to her feet, she could already feel the bruises that would no doubt appear tomorrow, and the lump at the back of her head. She mumbled something unintelligible as she make her way to her bedroom about never drinking again, and soon found herself dried and robed, and heading back towards the comfy armchair that was waiting for her. Grabbing the bottle as she passed the bathroom, having somewhat forgotten about her declaration a few moments before, she walked into her living room and settled herself in her armchair. She closed her eyes for a few seconds to let the world around her settle, including her stomach, and opened them back up to scan the room for the remote control.
She noticed it almost straight away, she may be admittedly drunk but the instincts that were forced into her from an early age quickly rose to the surface, somewhat groggily, and she was on her feet in a matter of seconds. Her trusty 45. Was no longer where she had left it.
Well? Yes? No? Maybe? Let me know.