Cometh the Hour

Venison

In her next moment of lucidity, the first thing Clarice became aware of was the hard surface to which her right cheek was pressed.

As she hauled herself up, a familiar feeling hit her – a wooziness. The room spun as she attempted to focus, and although it was perhaps lacking in the same intensity, she recognised it almost immediately as something akin to the effects of the cocktail of drugs Lecter had pumped into her system at the Lakehouse.

Trying to steady herself, Clarice rested her elbows on what she realised was the dinner table, pushing herself into a sitting position.

Opposite her, the Doctor smiled, raising his glass in a toast.

"Welcome back, Clarice."

She focused on her hands, desperately trying to regain some clarity.

"I must say," he began, standing up and moving round the table towards her. "You were out a little longer than I expected, but no matter."

As he took the seat beside her, Clarice tried to pivot herself around to face him, swaying forward uneasily.

Strong, yet gentle hands caught her, holding her upright.

"Easy, Agent Starling."

"Whatdidyoudotome?" she mumbled, vaguely surprised at the slurring of her own words.

"As circumstances would have it, you were somewhat hysterical," he told her, picking up an empty syringe from the table and stowing it in his inside pocket for safekeeping. "For your own safety I administered a mild sedative. I can assure you it will wear off in time."

Catching the aroma of the food still set on the table she heaved for breath, suddenly feeling nauseated.

Hannibal Lecter took her head in his hands and with surprising care, pushed her hair back away from her face.

In the moments that followed, she felt a glass pressed to her lips.

"Take a sip," he urged, his tones almost soothing.

She did, grateful of the feeling of the cool water as it touched her lips.

"That's my girl. Deep breaths."

His hands moved to her shoulders, steadying her again and somehow, she found herself gripping at his forearms.

"Better?" he asked.

Clarice nodded, starting to feel a little more human.

"Okay, good. And as long as you're on your best behaviour and remember your manners, we won't have a repeat," Hannibal assured her.

"What'd'you expect, Doctor?" she mumbled, her accent thicker than ever. "You were about to feed her–"

"–Venison," he cut her off, gesturing to the plate on the opposite of the table. "Renowned for its earthy taste, on account of the animal's diet. It never fails to disappoint – especially not at this time of year."

For a moment Clarice said nothing, and had the Doctor's reputation not preceded him, she might have felt a little stupid.

And then it hit her.

"Where is she?"

"Well–"

She didn't wait to listen to his response. Instead, summoning up any strength she had left in her body, Clarice pushed against him, managing to stagger to her feet.

"What did you do?!" she cried, fighting against him.

Her sudden bout of energy did not last long, and within seconds she found herself pinned against the wall, those maroon orbs just inches from hers.