This is a random what-if story based on if Hannibal had never committed any murders and just become a regular (if renowned and brilliant) psychiatrist.

Part One-

Clarice smiled grimly to herself when she saw the invitation unfolded neatly in her hand. It seemed that the infamous psychiatrist, Doctor Hannibal Lecter, was holding a black-tie party to commemorate all of the F.B.I. agents who had caught Buffalo Bill last week. Starling, the agent who had practically pioneered this whole scheme, has a handwritten note in perfect Copperplate from Doctor Lecter, who did a complete behavior chart on Bill which proved tremendously useful in the hunt for him. It was somewhat short, but thoughtful and polite.

Dear Ms. Starling-

I wish to congratulate you on the tremendous victory you have achieved. It is with great pride that I invite you to be the guest of honor at my humble affair. I would be most pleased to have you accept.

All the best-

Hannibal Lecter, M.D.

Clarice grinned secretively and tapped the invitation gently on her face. She wondered what she should do. The affair would undoubtedly be very stiff and stodgy but it was imperative, socially, that she go. Ardelia and Jack would no doubt jump for joy when they found out she was invited to be the guest of honor, by the Hannibal Lecter, no less. As if reading her thoughts, Ardelia Mapp breezed into the room.

“Hey girl, did you get one of those invitations?” Clarice raised the sweet-smelling paper for Mapp to see. “Ah, you did. Are you going? You have to go; it’s a Lecter party. The president might show, you never know.” Ardelia grinned cheekily.

Clarice, a glint in her eyes, kindly informed Ardelia that she would be going, as she was the guest of honor at the party and thought it best that she should put in an appearance. Ardelia about flipped.

“My god girl, are you serious? Oh my god, he asked you to be the guest of honor? I mean, I’m not surprised, but...heehee...Hannibal Lecter wants you to be the guest of honor, and he wrote you a fucking note! Do you have any idea what this means?”

“He has very nice handwriting?” Clarice ventured.

“No, it means that one of the most respected people in the world, not to mention one of the most popular, has just given you a lifetime V.I.P. pass!”

“To what?”

Ardelia shook her head excitedly.

“It doesn’t matter to what, girl. God, don’t you understand?” Ardelia didn’t wait for Clarice to reply. “Oh, what are you going to wear? I understand that Lecter is a very attractive guy, if not a little too old for you...” Clarice laughed. Now Ardelia probably was considering what would happen in Lecter asked Clarice out. Like it would ever happen, but she didn’t want to break her bubble. “But you can’t look like Miss. Proper F.B.I. Agent. No, you have to look sexy and witty...you have to look like Clarice Starling.”

Clarice got up from the couch and stood before Ardelia.

“Okay Ar, I get it, I get it. We’ll go shopping. We still have a week.”

“That’s all,” Ardelia practically squeaked. “God, I had forgotten. Oh well. We’ll do it. Damn girl, you’re gonna kill at that party.”

“I hope not,” Clarice murmured.

* * * * *

“Hey, how are you in there? Good?”

Clarice studied her reflection in the dressing room mirror. Turning, she flattened her hands across her belly to study herself from the side. She sighed. She didn’t like this dress, but she had tried on so many she was about to give up and just buy one so she could go home. Deciding that was the thing to do, Clarice reached for the price tag on the hanger. Two thousand, five hundred and fifty two, it read, and Clarice about fell on the floor.

“No, I’m not good. Can we please find something that doesn’t rival the down-payment on a car, please?”

Ardelia, outside the dressing room, chuckled. “Yeah, I’ll find one for you. You’ve only been here for twenty minutes, girl, hold on some.”

Had it only been twenty minutes? Odd, it felt like much longer. Sighing again, Clarice stripped the ugly and awfully expensive dress off and back onto the hanger. Why was she doing this? She wasn’t sure if she was too thrilled about the idea of being the guest of honor.

Part 2

“Girl, that is PERFECT. I think you couldn’t have done better.”

Clarice shot Ardelia a grin over her shoulder as she spun in her new dress. Her hair caught the motion and twirled in a brown-red skirt around her face and shoulders. Barefoot, she slid easily along the carpet.

“Okay, okay, enough Cinderella. You’re making me envious.” Ardelia tried to bring a serious tone into her voice but collapsed in a smile moments later. “But it’s just so damn great, honey. Oh, I’m so excited for you. I suppose this will make up for your prom, huh?”

Clarice slumped one shoulder mid-turn and rolled her eyes. Hand braced on her hip, she turns to Ardelia who was beaming.

“DON’T you remind me of that horrible night. I just want to have fun...we’ve got four more days...do you think that’s time enough to go out and get some shoes,” Clarice asked, lifting up her skirt above her ankles and starling at her bare feet. Ardelia laughed.

“’Oh, I don’t know, Ardie. This just seems like a bad idea...’ ‘No, I’m not excited, how could I be? This is nerve-wracking...’”

“I get the point. But I just feel nice in the dress, okay? Gimme a break, for Christ’s sake. I need you to reassure me now and then. I don’t know what I’m going to say to Lecter, and he’s gonna want to talk to me, I’m sure,” she said, putting a hand up to her somewhat distraught face.

“Cool it, hold it. You’ll do fine. Just...act like you do this everyday, no big deal.”

“Oh, what do I usually do everyday, huh? Take a look at that and see why I’m having such a problem leaping into this. I really don’t think Lecter will be enthralled by my lengthy discussion on Yaqui slides or my Colt.”

Ardelia, not wanting to face Starling’s frustrations, turns her head away and holds up her hands with the old onyx ring on the left thumb as a gesture of surrender. The sides of her mouth have quirked up in a small, secretive smile and it’s all Clarice can do to not follow suite. My, my, my, Clarice thinks to herself. I sure have pushed the bullet on this one, haven’t I? Then, as if reading her mind, Ardelia speaks, soaking up the silence.

“You sure have done it, you sure have done it.”

“Thanks,” Starling mutters shyly.

* * * * *

It’s the day of the F.B.I. ball, and one Clarice Marie Starling sits in her living room chair, hair in curlers, fingers knotted together on her lap. Her feet, kicked behind the front legs of her chair through the gap there, are swinging back and forth like a child’s. It’s an old, familiar gesture for Starling, someone accustomed to nail biting and wrist banging, but it isn’t bringing it’s usual distraction.

“Ardelia?” She calls out to the empty room and the rooms beyond that. “Hey, Ardelia, how much longer do I have to sit with these things on my head?”

“Till the sides turn green, Clair, till the sides are green.”

Disheartened, Clarice scrunches up her face and gets up off the chair. She cuts a short path across her living room and into the kitchen, where Ardelia is sitting, fixing gin and tonic.

“Are they done?”

Her voice seems unnaturally loud. Ardelia notices, but doesn’t make comment. Peering over the table, and with Clarice leaning over it, Ardelia inspects the color of Clarice’s rollers. They come up to be a dark red.

“No, they’re still working.”

“How much longer?” Her voice is a whine now. Clearly, Clarice Starling has little time for patience.

“Here, have some of this, it’ll cool you off.” She thrusts the g&t into Clarice’s waiting hands.

Clarice yanks the chair closest to her out from the table and slams herself into it. She receives a raised eyebrow from Ardelia for this but pays no mind, just rests her face on her propped hand. She thinks for a long moment, biting her lower lip then takes in a quick breath, about to speak.

“Do you think I’ll see Krendler there?”

“Let’s hope not.”

“He’ll be there,” and she nods to herself. “That bastards way higher up than me, he’ll be there. If only to taunt me.”

“Maybe Lecter won’t let him.” A hopeful tone.

Clarice shrugs and nearly looses one of the curlers for it. Sipping her gin and tonic, Clarice is greeted by a wave of fresh sensation swimming down her throat. She sighs and sets the glass back down on the wooden table.

“I’ll just have to wait and see, won’t I?”

Part Three

Patience was not a virtue, nor was it considered one, in the Starling family. Clarice could remember her father, one of the most impatient men she had ever run across besides Johnny Brigham, being short tempered and passing that trait down to her. Times like these, with an hour and a half left until she had to leave, Clarice wished that her father had been of much more gentle nature.

"My hair is done NOW, right?" She called out. It had been an hour since she last checked, so they had to be done.

"You mean to tell me that you haven't taken them out yet," Ardelia called from the other room.

"No," Clarice replied, annoyance deepening her tone. "I figured you'd tell me when."

"I told you; when they turn light green. Christ, they're probably emerald by now."

"Ha ha," Clarice tried to shout at Ardelia, but she had come into the room.

"They're done. Take them out."

"YOU do it, you're the one who likes this sort of thing."

Ardelia crossed her well-toned arms over her chest, silently scolding Clarice for the helpless maiden act. Her arms came down a minute later to help Clarice with the hot rollers.

When the last one was out, and Clarice shook her hair free, a cascade of curl greeted Ardelia, who wanted to sigh with envy. Clarice had long ago taken to lightening her hair which helped her face to not look as sallow as it was prone to, and the honey-gold color of the hair was extremely pleasing to the eye. Now, along with this veil of curls swirling around her shoulders, Clarice truly looked like...and Ardelia hated to think this, but a lady.

"How is it," Clarice asked, taking her fingertips to the loopy curls.

"Lovely, really lovely. Now let's get that comb thing."

Ardelia disappeared for a moment and came back holding a decorative butterfly comb of green, gold and black that would sweep one side of Starling's hair to the back. Her makeup would have to be bold, Ardelia realized, if it were to compete with her black gown and flamboyant butterfly comb. Starling tried to put the comb in her hair but balked after a moment, fearful of disturbing the hairsprayless curls. Ardelia did it herself, cool hands manipulating Clarice's heated hair and scalp. A few sprays of hairspray completed her hair.

"On to the make-up."

* * * * *

Her eyes sported a deep green eye shadow with highlights of gold. Thick black lashed framed her blue eyes. Clarice had never felt more beautiful. Her dress was still not yet on, so she stood wearing a lacy black backless and strapless slip with black pantyhose. Leaning over the bathroom sink to the mirror, Clarice smiled.

* * * * *

The stretch limo Lecter sent to the house with a basket of roses arrived in the next ten minutes of Clarice finishing dressing. A note was included with the flowers and this one was less formal then that of the note attached to the invitation two weeks ago.

Miss. Starling- Please, enjoy your ride (and the roses). I can't help but await your arrival in anticipation. To say that I have never met you would be correct, but I take great pride in your person. All the best- H.L.

She smiled, almost ear to ear after reading it. Oh, god the pit of her stomach felt the nervousness, though, and she wondered how she would last the night and whether or not the Doctor would speak to her and still think of her as kindly as he had been.

"Ardelia, I'm leaving! I'll see you late, late tonight, okay?"

"Wait, wait," she said, scurrying up to the door. "Let me walk you to your car."

The friends joined hands and walked down the drive to the waiting limo.

Part Four

Clarice hadn’t realized the true meaning of ‘glitzy’ before arriving at this party. The red carpet that greeted her was the first sign that things were not going to be that easy for her, coming from a ‘middle-class,’ background. Clarice tried not to grit her teeth as she walked down the carpet, smiling at the press that had gathered a long it like a snake.

“Miss. Starling?”

A voice from the right side of her. She spun to it, hoping it was Lecter. Her first thought was that it was not Lecter, but another woman. She looked to be about 60 or so, maybe younger, with extremely bright eyes and a trim figure. Clarice smiled at her, but she was completely confused as to who this was.

“Miss. Starling, my name is Mischa Lecter. I’m Hannibal’s sister. I’m here to ‘escort’ you to the study in the house. He wants to meet you there. My, that is a lovely dress,” Mischa said, coming up to clasp Clarice’s hands in her own. “And you’re quite a lovely girl yourself, too. I’m sure they’ll all be pleased,” she said, gesturing with a small nod of her head to the press.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Lecter.”

“Please, call me Mischa. May I call you Clarice?” Her smile was polite and appealing.

“Of course,” Clarice murmured, trying not to let her voice gush like Mischa’s did.

Stop it, Clarice abolished herself. I’m sure she’s very nice and it wouldn’t kill you to make a few social connections or even friends. This woman is very kind to you already. She tried to focus on that as Mischa started to lead her to the enormous house towering over them a distance away.

“You’ll be pleased to know that Hannibal has been hoping to meet you for quite some time,” Mischa was saying, tugging her along with one gloved hand. “He’s been absolutely frantic about making sure everything is perfect for you. He admires the F.B.I., you see, and he’s evermore pleased that a woman has accomplished what you have. He’s worried that you might think him odd, though. He doesn‘t know what to say or do. It‘s really quite funny.”

Clarice was struck with the sudden desire to laugh. So Doctor Lecter was worried that he wouldn’t know what to do or say. It seemed like they would have something in common, after all.

“You’ll be meeting my brother, Jonathon. He’s quite the family flirt, so you should find him charming. He’d be a little older than you, if I’m correct as guessing your age.”

Clarice wondered at the age difference. Lecter’s parents would have had to have quite unusual bodies to be able to sire someone her age. Perhaps he was adopted?

“And then there’s me, whom you’ve already met.” Mischa paused. “You are the silent type, aren’t you?”

“Oh, dear, I’m sorry, I’m just not used to this type of thing, really.” She fought blushing. Mischa laughed.

“It’s quite all right. If truth were told, I’ve never gotten used to this forced, refined behavior. I’m just used to riding my horses and reading my books. I don’t think many people are used to large crowds of stiff guests.”

Clarice marveled at Mischa for a few odd moments. How interesting is it that she and the Lecter’s would have so much inner dilemma in common? She had yet to meet the Doctor, but from what she’d heard, he was quite reserved and shy. Like herself. Mischa had just voiced what Clarice had been thinking. Jonathon had not been talked about much, but she figured that if he was civil or agreeable, she could manage this rather well.

They were at the door of the house before Clarice knew it. Mischa opened the heavy oak door, carved with all sorts of mosaics, and stepped inside, motioning for Clarice to follow.

“Hannibal said to meet him in the study. I expect he’s already there.” Clarice followed Mischa as she walked along the hallway.

“What is he like?”

“Hannibal?” Mischa turned to glance at Clarice. “My brother is silent, but when he speaks, it is at great lengths. He is always so still. We tease him for it. We say, ‘Hannibal, you should be a mannequin instead of a doctor. You’d feel much more comfortable.’ And he’s so smart, oh, so smart. When he discusses, it is so articulate and so amazing that you can’t help but be slack jawed. And he is kind, but has a probing sense of personality.”

“He sounds like the ideal person.”

Mischa’s responding tone sounded almost like a smile.

“We shall see, eh?”

She opened the door to the study.

Part Five-

Hannibal Lecter, MD. was facing his desk and unaware that Clarice Starling and his sister Mischa were behind him. If he had been alerted at their presence, he most certainly would not have his back to them. Mischa, a little irritated at his lack of interest in them (or so she thought) cleared her throat expectantly and Hannibal spun around surprised, one hand gracefully outstretched hand holding one of the numerous plans for this evening. His eyes widened when he saw Clarice standing in the room with his sister, and for a moment, the room was completely silent, none of the company knowing what to say to the other.

“Oh, ah...ahem...yes, Ms. Starling. I’m glad you could meet me before the party.”

His voice was smooth and every bit as elegant as his demeanor. His face, his body, too, was as attractive as the pictures and articles had said. Lecter was indeed a site for sore eyes, but it was not that that held her whole. It was his eyes. Full and hooded deeply, they glowed in the light a color of maroon Clarice was sure she was imagining. Surely if he turned they would changed, but even as he came forward to shake her hand, they stayed the same. When he came out of the bright lamplight, she saw his pupils flex and the maroon became larger.

The tuxedo he wore, very possibly made in Armani silk and tailored just for him, for only this one night, clung appealingly and it was all Clarice could do to keep from appraising his body and he bent over her hand and kissed it delicately.

“Well, I’m going to go outside and make sure that everything is all in order.” Mischa started on her way to the door. She smiled at Clarice. “It was nice meeting you. I hope to see you again and maybe ‘socialize’ with you at the party tonight, hmm?”

Clarice nodded her head, perhaps a bit too vigorously because Mischa hesitated with her gloved hand over the doorknob and looked at Clarice a minute longer. Then, she seemed satisfied and left the room to Clarice and Lecter. He turned his head down a little and she caught a smile on his lips before he cleared it and lifted his handsome head up to look at her again. She thought people only did things like that in movies.

“Ms. Starling. I am very sorry I did not hear you when you came in.” His eyes were apologetic, and Clarice realized that he actually thought something like that was a big deal, was rude. She waved her hands in the air to dispel and thoughts he had of that.

“It’s really nothing, Doctor. I do the same thing all the time, if that makes you feel any better.”

A smile crossed his face again and he looked at her as if seeing her for the first time since meeting her. He laughed just a little bit, not too loudly but just enough so she could hear it, and covered his mouth with his hand.

“Ms. Starling, I have no doubt that we shall get along perfectly.” She smiled at him and felt any nervousness she still clung to slip away completely. Now the only problem would be Krendler. “Shall I escort you to dinner?”

“Please.” She slipped her arm through the one he offered her.

* * * * * *

The elaborate candelabra that hung over their heads at the main dinner table had to be made from crystal and pure gold. The way the light caught on it left no other option to the imagination. Clarice had been staring at it since Doctor Lecter had gone to find her some wine. She was still staring at it when she felt the hot breath of Krendler next to her neck.

“Starling.” He acknowledges her, something akin to dislike in his ruddy voice. She had always thought Krendler spoke to the point of low melodramatics, but it was not until she compared him against the soft-spoken Doctor that she realized how fake he sounded.

“Mr. Krendler,” she spoke back. “I hope you’re enjoying the dinner.”

“Actually, no, I’m not. All this forced bullshit, all these damn haughty society people. I wish they would give me someone to talk to, someone with an actual brain.”

She fought back the urge to laugh at Krendler and merely nodded at his words. What Krendler did not know and what Clarice did, was that Lecter had been standing off to Krendler’s right side the whole time and had heard what he had said. Lecter came forward and handed the glass of wine to Clarice carefully, before shooting Mr. Krendler a disdainful but discreet look.

“That really is too bad. Perhaps you would find someone better suited to talk to over by the punch bowl?” His reference was polite yet harsh and they both noticed Paul’s cheeks color slightly, though he did not get the meaning Lecter had implied. He was just embarrassed that Lecter had heard him say what he did.

“Yes, maybe,” he muttered, before scuttling off to another part of the party.

Before they could say anything to each other, a voice called out from the back of them.

“Hannibal.” It was female, and was not Mischa. Thankfully, a man came up to Clarice and tapped her on the shoulder.

Part Six-

“Ms. Starling? Ms. Starling?”

Someone was saying her name, but Clarice was not responsive. She was staring at the beautiful creature in front of her, clinging sappily onto Doctor Lecter and flooding Clarice with hot jealousy. She told herself to tear her eyes away from the blonde cherub, but she couldn’t manage her self control like she usually could.

“Ms. Starling? Are you all right?” Clarice finally turned to whoever was saying her name.

The first thing she noted was a rather broad, lean chest covered in silk and Armani. Her gaze lifted further and she nearly dropped to the floor.

“Y..yes?”

Her mouth was parched. This man was a god! And obviously nobility of some sort. His mouth lifted into a kind smile. She resisted the compulsion to heave herself in his arms and take him there. For the moment, Clarice forgot all about the handsome Doctor Lecter and his blonde companion until the girl giggled.

“Jonathon...aren’t you going to introduce yourself? How impolite. Hannibal, don’t you think so?”

“Mm.” He sounded distracted. Clarice didn’t care. SHE was distracted by this Jonathon... “Yes, ah, Clarice, this is my brother Jonathon. And this-”

“Not blood brother, of course. He was adopted sometime ago by Hannibal’s late mother. That’s right isn’t it?” The blonde was quite rude, and Clarice saw thin embarrassment color Jonathon’s face.

“Yes, it is. I’m very grateful for that.” Clarice detected high sensitivity in the area of Jonathon’s up-bringing, so she said nothing, just nodded.

“So you’re Jonathon.”

“Yes, and you’re Clarice Starling. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Well,” the blonde broke into a whine. “Now that you two have made it cozy, would someone mind introducing me to the lady?”

“Clarice, this is my fiancee, Elise Nicholas.” Hannibal pushed Elise forward for a handshake.

“Hello, Clarice,” Elise gushed. “My darling Hannibal has told me loads about you. What’s it like being an Agent for the government, Ms. Starling? Now, I don’t usually concerns myself with these things, but I one wonders what lady on earth would seek such a life.”

Clarice was thoroughly insulted by Elise’s comments. She was going to answer with a biting retort, but Jonathon cut in before she could say anything.

“Elise, now I wouldn’t bother Clarice with this now. You’ll have plenty of time for that some other time.” He directed his gave at Hannibal, who seemed not the least concerned with Elise’s behavior. “You don’t mind if I whisk your guest of honor away for a small while, do you brother?”

“No, not at all,” but Hannibal was glaring at him. Something was up between this family.

* * * * * *

“I don’t mean to be rude or uncouth, Jon, but why on earth is your brother marrying that witch?”

They were walking along the garden path, right alongside fresh roses. Jon sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“I really have no idea, Clarice. I think she’s after his money, and he’s so bloody lonely most of the time.” He laughed bitterly. “She shot her attentions at me for a time. Can be quite convincing. If you don’t take offense, I would rather Hannibal marry someone more like you any day over that woman.”

Clarice nodded. She couldn’t help but agree. While being no perfect blonde herself, she was decent to look at and had manners and judgment. She could have murdered that woman herself if Jonathon hadn’t gotten her away. Strange, how much she disliked her in such a short time, and how much she really wished Doctor Lecter wasn’t marrying her.

“When are they getting married?”

“In four months. I reckon that by that time she’ll have robbed him for half the fortune already. I’ve tried talking to him about it, but he won’t listen-” Jon cut off abruptly. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t be bothering you with this, especially tonight. I take it all back.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“It’s all right. I can’t think about anything else but what a mistake he’s making. I feel awful saying that but-”

His arms swept her up into a kiss before she could finish.

Part Seven-

Clarice hadn’t the faintest clue of how to react when Jon’s mouth slammed against hers. She panicked when he didn’t pull away and then was offended, but his tongue homed its way into her mouth and she didn’t think about anything.

Jon grunted and maneuvered her in his hold so she was backed up against an oak tree. His head moved side to side as he kissed her and his hand slipped up to reach into her dress and cup her breast. She licked his lower lip and made no move to stop him in the slightest.

“Ahem.” It went unanswered. “Ahem.” Louder this time. “EXCUSE ME?”

They both turned around at the same time, embarrassed at being caught in this position. Clarice realized that part of her breast was left to the open air and tried to slip the bodice back over it discreetly. Elise stared at them coldly but not so much Jon as Clarice. She found that odd.

“Clarice, you’re wanted at the party.” She kept glaring, her gaze as frosted as her hair.

“I’ll be right there.”

“I’ll tell Hannibal.” Threat was evident in her tone and Clarice paled considerably.

Jonathon sent a murderous glance at Elise.

“Funny, Elise. Tell Hannibal that Clarice and I will be there in just a few moments.”

Elise left them like that after a moments hesitation. Her pert nose was in the air as she walked out of the garden grove, malicious intent apparent in her every move. Clarice sagged against Jon. He slipped his arms around her.

“Why was she so angry?” Clarice was honestly confused with Elise’s mood.

“I have no idea. I’ll talk to my brother about it later.”

* * * * * *

Doctor Lecter smiled and took her hand when she came back to the party, but it was inhuman and forced. Elise had obviously told him what she had seen, there was no doubt left in Clarice’s mind. She searched for some sign that Elise had been easy with her description of events but all she saw was a shielded distaste.

“Would you care to dance?” His tone was worse off than his voice, but he tried to hide it. Without success.

“Sure.” Flames were engulfing her face, she was sure of it.

They stepped out onto the wooden dance floor that was set out underneath the candles and post lights that was the decor of the evening. Clarice was sure that people were staring and she wondered how many people Elise had told. Applause greeted her though, and off in a corner where she was focusing her gaze, she saw Jack give her a little wave. It calmed her down a little and made her concentrate on clearing things up with the Doctor. After all of the build up to meeting him, she really did not want to spoil things.

Clarice liked Doctor Lecter, there was no getting around it. He was unusually sedate but kind and she figured that he would never mistreat anyone, even if they deserved it, but not when it came to family. He was being unfailingly polite, even under this moment of stress, and she had to give him some credit for not shunning her from the party. Mischa, who sat across at the dining tables, smiled and gave Clarice another wave. She gathered the courage to speak to Lecter.

“Doctor, I don’t know what Elise told you, but it very possibly was not what it looked it.”

“Indeed.” His tone was cold. “You are suggesting that my fiancee was lying? Elise may be not what you are used to, Ms. Starling, but I know her to be honest.”

“No, I’m not saying she’s lying.” His hand tightened around hers as they sailed into a waltz. “If you’ll listen to me, Doctor Lecter, you’ll see that I’m just trying to straighten things out.” She took a deep breath. “I was walking with Jonathon in the gardens and we were just talking and he kissed me-” she broke off, fearful that she had insinuated that his brother was at fault and angered him. “That’s not to say that it was Jon’s fault...”

“Clarice, I am not surprised at Jon’s behavior. He has been known to pull stunts like this before. Now, if you would kindly put it behind you, we may enjoy this party.”

Clarice hung her head.

“All right.”

The song ended in a crescendo of applause.

* * * * * *

“Clarice! Clarice...”

She flinched and turned around to the frantically urgent voice of Elise Nicholas as she ran over, her face a mixture of regret and angst. She braced herself for the tirade of drama that was sure to come about. Elise arrived, breathless and chest heaving delicately like a character from a Hysterical Historical Romance novel.

“I wanted to talk to you.” Her mouth formed the words with exaggerated crisis and pomp. “I’m sorry for being so rude earlier, about you and Jon...” she guided Clarice to a secluded cove so they could speak undisturbed. “It’s just that I’ve seen Jon do that to so many women, you know, charm them and then leave them. I was just mad at him and didn’t want to say anything to you.” She gave Clarice a hopeful smile. “Can you ever forgive me?”

Clarice actually contemplated smacking her across the face with a large, blunt object, but in the end nodded. Elise jumped up and down, her hands holding Clarice’s and her face brightened and swelled with inflated happiness. She ended up looking suspiciously like a blowfish. Her blue eyes widened and she giggled girlishly.

“So we can be friends?” She didn’t wait for Clarice. “I’d just adore that! It’s always so nice to make new friends, and now Hannibal can put his mind at ease. He thought that I would be angry at you! Can you imagine?”

Actually, Clarice surmised, she could.

Part Eight-

Clarice knocked softly on Jon’s door. After a few moments, during which she contemplated running away and forgetting speaking to him, he answered. His face lightened noticeably when he saw her standing in the hallway and he gestured her in, his smile quirking up half of his face. Clarice studied the carpet and tried to make sense of the information she had been given about him. It didn’t seem to fit how he was to her, but on the other hand she could see the behavior pattern.

“Hey. Is it too late to bug you?”

“No, no. Have a seat, Clarice.” He pushed one of the raven locks off of his face and sat down in a chair himself after a pause.

“I wanted to talk to you about something.” Her voice was slow, and she was debating with herself on how to approach this.

Jonathon shifted in the chair and a half, and scrunched up his face like he was deep in thought. After kicking off his shoes, he tucked his feet underneath of him and waited for her to speak.

“I...uh.. I think I figured out why Elise was so rude earlier.”

“Do tell. I’m all ears.” He smiled, still unaware of her intentions.

“She came up to me before the party was over and insisted she apologize for being so rude. She said that she didn’t mean to be, it’s just that she was worried about me. See,” Clarice took a deep breath and tried to reign in her faltering courage. “Elise told me that you had a history with women and that you were something of a playboy. I.. I just feel so odd about this, because you’re obviously charming and you seem to have taken a fancy to me, and I just wanted to know if this will work, and what your intentions are.”

Jon’s face had clouded over with what Clarice assumed was ire. She bit her lower lip and tried to show him she was sorry for the way it came out, but he was past that and his face changed into the picture of hurt.

“You think,” he said slowly, “that my intentions were just to fuck you? What are you thinking, Clarice? I thought you were better than that!” Though his voice was soft, he sounded angered and very hurt to her and she instantly regretted bringing it up.

“I wasn’t thinking, Jon...I was just... you know.”

“No, I don’t.” He was the very epitome of disbelief then, the shock and anger etched into his face. She almost didn’t think it was possible, but he seemed very near tears. “You chose to listen to gossip from a bitch like Elise and then you actually have the gall to come to me with this petty stuff? That is wrong, Clarice. If you wanted to know, you could have asked, instead of outright accusation.”

“Jon,” she tried her most apologetic voice. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I was just...”

“You were just what, Clarice? Acting like a gossiping fool?” He spat the words out as if they were stinging his mouth. “I wouldn’t doubt it if YOUR intentions were dishonorable, Clarice. You were swept into me pretty easily, now that I think about it. What was it, Clarice? Did you think that if I fucked you, you’d get money? Are you a whore, Clarice?”

“Stop it!”

He continued on, as if deaf to anything she were going to say. He shot up from his chair with cat-like grace and towered over her on the couch. She felt like she was cornered and would have died on spot if it was possible.

“You’re no better than Elise then, are you? You think that because you’ve got a pretty head on your shoulders then you can have any man you want? You’re a money grubbing whore, Clarice Starling, and I think you and Elise are a match made in heaven.” His face was contorted now, and sparks flew from his eyes.

“Stop it,” she cried, flapping her hand feebly at his chest. She was weak with humiliation that Jon would actually think so low of her. “Stop it! Just stop!!”

His nostrils flared and he leaned in close, and for a panicked second she thought he was going to hit her. She recoiled back in fear and he lifted his head up righteously.

“I am not that kind, Ms. Starling. Maybe the men you frequent are the hitting type but I am not.”

A pounding on the door interrupted them and he closed his eyes and she saw his jaw work as he wrestled for composure.

“Jonathon? What’s the matter? I could hear you screaming out in the front lawn.” Mischa’s worried voice crept through the wood.

“Jon? Open up now.” Doctor Lecter was with them.

Clarice heard the shuffling of feet and Elise’s muffled whine that sounded like it could have been “What’s going on? What is Jon doing to her?”

He crossed the room and yanked open the door, still unable to control his seething rage. He was tottering on the edge of another outburst but thankfully held it back. Lecter took one look at Jon’s face and knew something was very wrong. He looked past him into the room and saw Clarice on the corner of the couch, almost huddling with fear, and softly asked Jonathon what was going on.

“That money-grubbing whore,” he yelled, throwing a pointed finger at Clarice, “decided that she would listen to your fiancees nonsense.”

“Jonathon,” Mischa gasped. “Do NOT refer to Clarice that way. You’re damn near psychotic. Calm yourself down.”

Elise stepped forward after casting Jon a look that would have melted ice burgs and kneeled on the floor next to her.

“Oh, Clarice. I am so sorry for saying anything. I just thought that you should know Jon’s past, is all. He’s been so awful with women-”

“What does she care? She was only after the money anyway.”

“What?” Hannibal Lecter’s voice was unfailingly calm in the din of activity.

“You heard me,” Jon snapped. “She was only after the money.”

“That’s not true,” Clarice gasped. “I was never after the money! He’s just...”

“Just what?” Doctor Lecter came over from where he was leaning against the door and over to Clarice. “Just what, Clarice? I don’t doubt that my brother is making a fool out of himself over this, but I need you to tell me what this is all about before this can be settled.”

Clarice was unable to find the words.

“Doctor Lecter, if I may intervene.”

The voice that came from the door must have been sent straight from hell. All heads turned to Paul Krendler, who stood in the hallway, trying not to break into a malicious grin. And Clarice knew she was doomed.

Part Nine-

Krendler, with all the grace of a stalking cat, slid into the room with as much over the top drama on his face that Elise couldn’t even begin to rival it. He paused to give Clarice a pitiful look and then turned to face the Lecter’s.

“This may not be my place, but I feel I have to intervene.” For a wild moment, Clarice actually thought that Krendler might try to help her case. “May I continue?”

Lecter nodded sharply for Krendler to sit on the plush couch that was near Clarice’s. Jon folded his arms over his chest and did a pivot to where he could study Clarice and Krendler at the same time. Elise climbed off of the floor and onto the couch, next to Clarice, still holding her hand.

“I am a colleague of Ms. Starlings, and I feel that it is my duty that you, sir, are not duped by her as many men have been in her...eventful past.”

Paul stopped and ran his thick fingers through his hair, as if this was causing him a high measure of distress.

“I would have chosen to ignore the situation if Starling had not offered herself to me, sexually, and to have me in turn have me save her career, which, as you may know, has been until recent events, on rocky ground.” Paul stopped and gave Clarice a pointed look while she stared at him in shock. Krendler was taking an actual situation she had refused and turning it onto her. “I, of course, refused. You might not know it, but I have a wife that is dear to me and two children at home.”

Elise had dropped her hand, and was now staring at her in disbelief. Clarice herself sat on Lecter’s couch dumbstruck and openmouthed by his blatant lies. She couldn’t form the words to protest.

“It is widely known in the Bureau that Clarice is sleeping with her boss, Jack Crawford, who is the head of Behavioral Sciences. She might have even been sleeping with him before his late wife Bella’s death.”

Doctor Lecter was looking straight at her, possibly trying to figure out why she was not protesting or objecting to Krendler’s accusations.

“Clarice slept with another Agent, who had a case she wanted. He gave it up to her after that.”

“That’s complete bullshit, Krendler! You’re just pissed at me because I wouldn’t sleep with you,” Clarice shouted. Krendler shook his head at her with feigned sadness. “I have way too much respect for myself and for my work to do any of the things you’ve said I’ve done. I would never, ever sleep with Jack or any other Agent, for that matter. Look at my record. It says I haven’t been involved with anyone.”

“Your record says that the only plum assignments you’ve had were once held my male officers who relinquished it to you.”

Clarice longed for a gun with every fiber of her being. She wanted to blow Krendler’s smug head off of her shoulders. She looked pleadingly to Doctor Lecter, who had grown visibly distant and recoiled from the mere sight of her.

“You can’t honestly believe that one word he’s saying to you is true.”

“I don’t know, Clarice. If all rings very true to me,” Jon said softly.

“How could you,” Elise said, her voice amazingly able to be shrill and soft at the same time. “I TRUSTED you. I wanted to be your friend...and all along you were planning to do something horrible to poor Jon’s heart.” She about burst into tears. Clarice tried not to roll her eyes.

“You’ll sleep with any man who can help you somehow, some way, even in the slightest.” Jon leaned down over her and she felt his breath hitting her face. “You make me fucking sick, Clarice. Get out of the goddamn house.”

Mischa’s head jerked up and she rushed over to where Lecter and Jonathon stood.

“Wait a damn minute, everyone. I don’t believe we’ve even stopped to listen to Clarice. The poor girl looks damn near killing herself. I think we should at least let her explain.” Clarice looked at her gratefully.

“There is nothing to explain.” Doctor Lecter’s voice was the most disturbing sound she could have heard at that moment. It was fast and ranging on high. It was obvious that he was very angry with her. “I trust Mr. Krendler’s word, and his testimony rang of the truth. I believe I’ve heard all that I care to, for one night. Elise, if you’ll call a car for Ms. Starling.”

Elise shot up from her seat and rushed out of the room, not before casting a backwards glance at Clarice that stung with hate. Clarice trembled as she stood up slowly from her place on the couch. She shot a fury filled look at Krendler, and received one from both of the male Lecter’s. Mischa just stared at her, and she found it near impossible to gauge what she was thinking.

“You,” she said to Krendler. Her voice was shaking with all-consuming rage. She didn’t even notice Elise’s arrival back into the room. “You are a lying sack of shit. I hope you burn in hell. I’m going to prove you wrong, you filthy bastard.”

“False indignation does not suit you, Ms. Starling. Now kindly be on your way.” Doctor Lecter gestured to the door.

Clarice, mustering all the dignity she had in her body, walked out of the room with tears threatening to spring from her eyes.

Part Ten-

Clarice paced around Jack’s office, her hand covering her mouth and old tears hovering in her eyes. She was damn impatient for him to get back from his lunch break, but it seemed that he was not moving as quickly as he usually did.

Ardelia was away on a case and she had no one else to turn to. Jack would understand her, because he had been the ridicule of Krendler, too. Jack would be furious, she mused, when she told him what Paul had said about them supposedly sleeping with each other. But she could use that, she figured. Maybe Jack would help her sort this whole thing out.

“Clarice? What are you doing? I figured you’d be at home sleeping from all the partying last night.” She spun around and when he saw her face, Jack the Stoic Crawford knew something was wrong and was angered by it. “What happened, Starling.” He only referred to her as Starling when he was upset.

“Jack...I...have the longest story to tell you...”

* * * * * *

She was softly sobbing now, and couldn’t sit down. Clarice related her tale up to the point where Krendler came into the room fairly well, but now she had to stop and gather herself up. It was awful for Clarice, because she had never known anyone to be that horrible to her in her life. No one had ever had true malicious intent against her and it disturbed her very much.

“Jack...he said that I would sleep with anyone for a favor, and that I had offered to do HIM just the other day. Jack, he...”

“What is it, Clarice? What did he say?” He gently put his hand on her arm and searched her face.

“He said that I had been sleeping with you since before Bella...” She cut herself off, but he understood.

Clarice had thought she had seen Jack Crawford enraged before, when someone had made a completely stupid move and almost cost him Jack’s career. Now, his face became utterly stormy and he whipped his head back and gritted his teeth.

Clarice knew how deep this struck him because Bella had been his ‘one true love’, and when she had passed it had almost killed Jack. And now Krendler had the brass balls to say that Jack would cheat on Bella, actually commit something that Jack considered was the ultimate sin. Clarice seriously feared that Crawford would murder Krendler at that moment.

“That fucking prick. Sack of shit...”Jack’s voice was low and dangerous. Clarice sunk into the chair in front of Jack’s desk and wiped away the saline from her eyes. It hurt her to see Jack hurt, and that is what Krendler had done. “I’m going to murder that lying, malicious bastard if it’s the last thing I do.” He paused to look at Clarice, who was half curled up on his chair. “Oh, Clarice, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe this happened. That mutant Krendler is going to pay, I assure you.”

He was still incensed but held it, for her sake. She was on the verge of braking in half, he could see. “Come here,” he said to her, and for the first time during their cordial friendship, Jack Crawford and a crying Clarice Starling shared a hug.

“What do I do?” She wondered out loud. “I’m worried now that I’ve seen what lengths he will go to crush me. Do you think he’s the one who keeps messing with my file?”

Crawford sighed and let her out of his grasp.

“I don’t have a clue, but at this point I wouldn’t doubt it. My god, the man is delusional.” Jack shook his head, biting back his anger. “What we have to do is prove Krendler wrong in front of the Lecter’s.” He stopped. “I’m not even sure I want to do that, if they were so easy to pounce on you after that ass hole...” he stopped again, bitterness cut in his face. “Our main objective is to get Krendler busted. Now, I can’t do that; he’s in a different section, even if he is lower in the pool then me.

“Jack, thank you,” she whispered to him. He smiled grimly back at her.

“For what?”

Clarice didn’t know what to say. She just looked at him helplessly and he patted her hand.

“I know, I know.”

* * * * *

“Clarice?” Arthur Jackson’s head popped into the room and he searched her office to see her curled up in one of the leather chairs. “Mail.”

She unfurled herself from her tight seating in the chair and wandered over to him, a glazed look still in her eyes. Her shoulders were slumped and her back was arched. She pushed her sweaty hair off of her forehead and took the letter addressed to an Agent Starling out of his aged hand.

“Thanks,” she muttered, before turning her back on him and walking back to her chair.

Burned out, she couldn’t think of anything to do, to say, to either Krendler or the Lecter’s. Clarice could only hope for a momentary bust of inspiration that would help her deal. She ripped open the letter carelessly, not even giving the return address or the handwriting a glance. She saw the nice script it was written in and hoped it was Doctor Lecter writing to her, apologizing or asking her to come down so they could speak. It wasn’t.

“Dear Ms. Starling-

I am sorry my family has made such a tirade about this thing with Jon and that awful Mr. Krendler’s ‘testimony.’ I don’t believe that you have done a thing; you were far too adamant when you did speak and far too kind to have done any of the things that he said you did. I am sorry my family shot you down, regardless of innocence.

My reason for this letter is to invite you to lunch at the house. I hope we can be friends or at least sort through this mess. Who knows, maybe I can talk some sense into Hannibal? Please, let us work past this.

Regards-

Mischa Estave Lecter

Part Eleven-

Clarice stood waiting anxiously outside of the Lecter home after ringing the doorbell several times. She checked her watch and glanced down at her dress and shoes, checking to make sure everything was in perfect order. She did not want to seem messy or frenzied, else that would let Mischa or (god forbid seeing them) any of the other Lecter’s see that she was inwardly frantic with agitation and anger.

The door opened and thankfully it was Mischa who greeted her, not any of the staff. She smiled at Clarice with warmth, only a trace of apprehension in her features, and invited her in.

“Hannibal shouldn’t be home until after six o clock. He’s away at a sort of convention for the psychoanalysts.” Her own words made Mischa smile. Clarice smiled and crossed the worry of intrusion from Doctor Lecter off her list of fears.

Mischa led her down the long hallway. Clarice had been there before and remembered with almost frightening clarity. She surveyed the carpet and the tapestries as she walked along, trying to look casual and carefree. She was aching for release from this suppressed portico, this unnatural facade, but did not do or say anything that would lead to it. Though fearful of breaking down, Clarice forged ahead, hoping to make some sort of resolution from this meeting with Mischa. She wanted for Mischa to believe her and possibly even help her deal with Jon or Doctor Lecter. At this stage of events, however, Clarice would not be fooled by the thought of instant redemption, even if she was innocent.

She had been half tempted to take the invitation and to tell Mischa to shove it where the sun don’t shine, but had reconsidered and decided that going and dealing with it would be the better thing to do in the long run. A part of Clarice still wanted to launch into a diatribe, to tell Mischa how fucking awful it felt to be believed over a prick like Krendler, but she had a feeling Mischa already knew. There was a sort of bond there and Clarice did not think she needed to do any explaining to Mischa.

“Have a seat, dear.”

Clarice had not noticed where Mischa was taking her, and was surprised to find herself on an outdoor patio, already set with a table and chairs. Food sat atop the cloth-covered tables in small silver trays. It was quaint and looked delicious.

“All right. God, that looks good,” she said, pointing to the pancakes piled onto one of the trays. A tab of butter and a bottle of syrup were within reach.

“Compliments of our chef, my dear. He was born and raised in the cooking capital of the world; Italy, but does a rather good job with the American favorites.” Mischa took a seat across from where Clarice laid her purse down.

“Ah. You’ll have to give him my regards, then. Oh, this is wonderful,” she exclaimed as she bit down on a fresh strawberry. “You have no idea how long it’s been since I’ve sat down and eaten a real breakfast. Starbucks and I were becoming pretty chummy.” She smiled sardonically as she piled some grapes next to her slab of bacon. Her stomach growled in anticipation.

* * * * * *

“Now, my dear, we have to come to a way to convince Hannibal that you are not nearly such a horrible person as Mr. Krendler accused you of being. I’m certain, though, that Jon is past that point. I’m sorry about that,” she added hastily.

The maid had just cleared away the remnants of their breakfast, and Clarice and Mischa were sitting out on the deck chairs that were to the left of the patio, near the gardens. Clarice took a small start and paused as she leaned back in her chair, but settled in after a moment.

“Thanks so much for helping me. I don’t have any idea what I’m supposed to do to fix things and-”

“What a surprise. Ms. Starling. Did I not specifically tell you that you are not to return to my household?” Clarice’s blood froze and she didn’t look away from Mischa, fearful of meeting the Doctor’s gaze.

“Shut up, Hannibal,” Mischa snapped. “God, you can be so blind sometimes...in any case, I invited the poor girl over for breakfast. You weren’t supposed to be home.”

Doctor Lecter walked in Clarice’s line of vision.

“Mischa, can I have a few moments along with Ms. Starling, please?”

Mischa stood up and walked up to Hannibal until she was nearly nose-to-nose with him.

“If you so much as insult her shoes, I’ll-”

“Tsk tsk, sister. I assure you, Clarice Starling will fare our meeting perfectly fine.”

Clarice stared at Hannibal Lecter and was not sure if she could trust that. Mischa left to go inside after a long, still pause. Lecter circled her where she was sitting, never making eye contact and irking the hell out of her doing so. She wished he would just come out and say whatever he wanted to, instead of this game.

“Money, Ms. Starling. Something I’m sure you recognize. You will get a large amount of it, in exchange for...services rendered.”

Part Twelve-

“Services?” She answered dumbly.

“For the span of one year, I wish for you to be my mistress. You will receive full compensation.”

She gaped at him in total shock. Without words, she stared at him searching for them but it took her a full minute for her to process and even control the fried ends of objection running through her muddled mind.

“But you’re engaged,” was the tinker she came up with. Doctor Lecter just shrugged.

“Paul Krendler was married. That didn’t hinder you in the least, did it?”

Her face turned feverously red and she curled her fingers into a fist, trying to defy the urge to hit him. When Clarice Starling got an urge, she didn’t do well at resisting them.

“I did not sleep with that egotistical slime, you presumptuous jerk!” Her tone was so hard and convincing that Lecter did a small double take before he slipped back into composure. “I can’t believe you actually believed him!” She stood up in the vigor of rage and walked up toe to toe with him.

“Calm down. Answer my initial question if you will.” If I WILL?

“Absolutely not. No.” All without thinking. Hannibal smiled momentarily and crossed his arms, perusing a thought.

“The perhaps you need more inspiration than money.”

Her head jerked up and she caught his gave head on. He was completely intent on holding her as his mistress, she could see.

“Would your coworkers and my associations with the press be interested in your indiscretions that I have been privy to? Would Jack Crawford, your current lover, be interested in what lengths you will go to for advancement?”

“I already told him Krendler’s lies,” she hissed hotly. His threats to her public undoing were getting to her.

“That was a bit chancy, wasn’t it? But I figure it was a necessary precaution, in case word ever got around to him.”

“You-”

“Do be calm and silent, Ms. Starling, or you will live to regret it.” His look was ice. Real threat was in him now, and she drew away and did what he asked.

“I am not your whore.” She tried to be somewhat quiet.

His eyes smiled at her, thought without any real humor in them.

“Who’s are you then, if not mine? Who WILL you sleep with? Tell me your price, Clarice, and I will gladly pay it.”

“You sumamabitch!” She yelled at him. NOTHING would ever get through to this man. He had to be fucking crazy. Whatever the case, he had encouraged her anger and was NOT going to get away with it. Like hell he would. “For the LAST goddamn time, I did not sleep with Paul Krendler! I don’t HAVE a sex life.” She was to the point of letting her trademark “southern” temper control her. Maybe it would get him to listen.

Doctor Lecter smiled, for what had to be the thousandth time that day. His insolence and his disdain for what he thought she was, for believing a prick like Krendler about her, pushed her past the breaking point. Before they knew what was happening, she put all her anger and all her strength into her left arm and hit him, right above the jaw. Hard. His head went to the side and back. She saw his jaw work painfully under his skin, and when he finally met her gaze, his eyes seemed to be flashing.

“As I said before; how do you think the press would feel about your actions? Do you think they would be sympathetic towards you?”

She looked at him with all the bitterness men had given her over the years. Her daddy was in that look, the rancher that killed the lambs, the fucker who took her virginity, all her past nobody boyfriends, Paul, Jack, Brigham, Jon and even her own masculinity stared him in the face. He was scared for a moment in time. After a little while, the look past, and she shook her head in surrender.

“All right.”

Part Thirteen-

Clarice rubbed her temples and wondered how the hell she had gotten herself into this mess and what to do about it. She was sitting in front of her dresser mirror, eyes bloodshot and reflecting the stress she felt. Her hair was messed from the hours she had spent on her bed, crying softly and detesting herself for it. Clarice loathed being put in this position, hated having to play the role of a victim. She blamed all her problems on Hannibal Lecter.

Unless, by some miracle of god, she came into some proof that she was a cleaner person that Krendler had said, she would have to keep her promise from the contract she had signed. The embarrassment fumed when she thought of the stupid paper that he had handed to her. She had shattered every rule she had made for herself when she had signed that indenture, but if she didn’t, she was doomed to a life of ridicule.

“What am I gonna do,” she croaked to herself in a dry, painfully rough voice. <Kill him,> her mind answered, but she didn’t give it a second thought.

If Clarice were to kill him, there was a sizeable chance she would be found out or the contract would be found. He said he had a couple copies of that thing hidden securely where Jon would find it in the case of his death. Knowing Jon, he would sniff out her involvement and have her sentenced to death. She shuddered. Clarice Starling may be fearless in the face of a lot of things, but wrongful death was not one of them.

The phone next to her bed rang, and Clarice started to drag her deadweight body over to it to answer it. On tenterhooks hoping it was Mischa, she picked up the phone. Clarice desperately wanted to talk to her, maybe get her to rant at Lecter. Fucking Christ she hated him. She balanced the phone under her chin.

“Hello?” At least she didn’t sound as horrible as before.

“Clarice? I hope you’ve had enough time to yourself. Why don’t you come down to the mansion?”

Her throat closed and she saw little black spots in front of her eyes. Her hand reached blindly for her bed and she sat on it, incapable to stand on her feet anymore.

“Doctor Lecter. I...”

“Yes? Are you ready? I wanted to start the year as soon as possible.” Was that HUMOR she heard in his voice? Incredulity bathed all over her.

“Uh...I’ll be over there soon.” Her voice gathered some of her anger in it. She aspired to make him regret this.

“Okay. I’ll expect you in a half an hour, then. Goodbye.”

The dial tone rung in her ears before she had a chance to say anything. She hurled the phone onto the bed where it bounced and landed with a ‘thump’ on the floor. The headset rolled a few times and stared up at her from the carpet. She shoved herself up off the bed and went to her closet, tugging roughly through her clothes.

* * * * * *

Doctor Lecter answered the door this time. She fought back surprise at his appearance. He seemed almost average in denim jeans and a black shirt. No smile was on his face. She was glad for that, in a very angry and primal part of her. She hated to think that he maybe enjoyed this.

“Clarice.” He walked back down the hallway without a backwards glance at her, expecting her to follow. She did, after a flash of planning to turn back and run away.

“Where is everyone,” she asked his back. He turned to the left two times and she followed him still, pretending childishly in her mind that she had a gun and shot him three times through the back to his heart and tipping his lung.

“Jon is out with associates, planning another event in Napa, Mischa is out somewhere, doing God only knows what, and Elise is back with her family in Florida. The servants have the day off. We’re completely alone.”

“Goody goody for us,” she muttered.

“What was that?” He was several paces in front of her and she scurried to keep up.

“I said I didn’t know that you could do that.” He turned back to look at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Of course servants have days off. We’re not barbaric.”

“If couldn’t be the what they could tell you fiancee or your family, now could it?” She saw right through his cheap lie.

“Don’t get cheeky, Starling.” Lecter’s features darkened. “I don’t care if they find out. I’m sure Elise has her lovers.”

“So that makes it all right?” She shook her head at him. “God you people are fucked.”

“Watch it, Clarice. I don’t want to have to get angry with you.”

“Are you threatening me?” She couldn’t help but laugh. He shrugged.

“Who knows.”

“What a joke,” she said, loudly enough for him to hear. He didn’t make a comment. Hannibal instead opened the door to the guestroom on the second floor and offered her inside. “What, you think it’s a bad idea to use your room? Someone might find out,“ she said tauntingly. He gave her a look she couldn’t read.

“I thought it might be best for the first time to be in a room that is unclaimed by either of us. Maybe my room would be better suited...?”

“I don’t care,” she snapped.

“Very well. You don’t care. Have a seat.” There was a comfortable looking chair and a half in the corner, the farthest away from the bed. She sat there.

He took off his watch before he hit the bed and rubbed his wrist. Setting it down on the nightstand next to the bed, she didn’t take her eyes off of him.

“I hope you know I hate you.”

“I know.” For a second, he almost looked sad. “The feeling is mutual.”

Part Fourteen-

Without warning her, or even muttering a word to her, Lecter started lifting the shirt above his head, and then undoing his belt with zealous intensity. Clarice gaped at him until he motioned for her to do the same. She paused again and he yanked one final tug to his belt and it came out of the loop holes. He brandished it in his hand.

“Show me.”

Clarice put her hands to her zipper tentatively and looked at him a moment longer, desperately thinking of a way to make him stop. But, it was this for a year or humiliation for a life. No job, probably. There would be nothing worse in the world than to run from her job in shame. Clarice hoisted her chin up and focused her eyes firmly on the shirtless Lecter. She gave him a once over and decided that at least he wasn’t horrible to look at.

“Come on, now.” He wasn’t brooking refusal.

She sighed and flapped her arms down onto her lap. Eyes cast downward, she asked him if he could get her zipper. He watched her fixedly, as if she might be holding a weapon somewhere on her. She arched her eyebrow at him, perplexed, and asked him again. He came forward brashly and pulled her zipper down without any more bravado. Clarice didn’t bother to thank him.

She stood up and reached for the bottom of her slip to pull it off, she noticed his hands going to his pants and quickly looked away in case he didn’t wear anything underneath. Give me a moment, she thought to herself, and almost said it out loud, but the words hitched in her throat and she didn’t think about it after that.

Sex can be a mindless thing, Clarice had been told that since she was old enough to practice it herself. She hoped and prayed that it would be today; to be mindless and not think about it. Having only had intercourse two times in her twenty-five years, did not know what to expect or what Doctor Lecter expected out of her. Both times during the sex she had been in some pain and didn’t enjoy it much.

“Aren’t you undressed yet?” He asked her, upsetting her thoughts. Whirling around, she saw he just had on a pair of boxers.

“Almost.” Hastily, she jerked the ivory slip off of her form and was very thankful she had worn a bra.

Hannibal concurred with a nod and sat back down on the bed. Clarice hadn’t even recognized that he had gotten off of the bed to take off his pants. Her pulse increased and she was sure it was pounding in her ears. He tapped the pillow next to him, signifying where she should be. She walked, jerk-kneed, over to the bed and practically dropped down on it, heavy and corpse-like.

Sliding over next to her, she was surprised when his lips tenderly and slowly kissed the area between her chest and neck. She locked her eyes shut as his big hands moved to surround her waist. Jesus H. Christ....how often does he do this to women? A little male groan vibrated on her skin and she cleared her throat, unsure of what to do. Lecter’s hand was making it’s way up to her breast. She crossed her stockinged legs and recrossed them, trying not to recoil from his when his fingertip brushed her nipple.

“What is it?” He asked her. He looked genuinely confused.

“Nothing. Keep...” <Deep breath, Clarice.> “Keep going.”

He nodded and his head moved back over her skin. His lips this time were lower; on the boarder of her breasts. She parted her mouth in a silent protest and clamped it shut. <You’re his now, Clarice. Nothing you can do about it.>

“Yes,” she heard him whisper. His mouth teeth caught some of her skin between them and he bit gently. Goosebumps chased down her arms.

He shifted positions suddenly, and she found herself wrapped up in his arms. He was very strong and quick, she was learning. While she lay at his complete erotic mercy, he smiled down at her wickedly and kissed her forehead. They were both shocked by the intimate gesture. No one said anything.

The Doctor’s hand slipped between the cotton bra and her skin. His fingers were hovering above her nipple. Clarice wondered why he didn’t just undo her bra and move the show along. He couldn’t be enjoying this; it had to be a power play. He was showing her who was ‘boss.’ Though it irritated her, she was unvoiced.

He did her silent bidding and she relaxed, oddly enough, when her flesh was free. Now they both were shirtless. The one layer of clothing she still had on felt flimsy and did not shield his gaze. Softly, he moved one of her legs until it was propped up on the bed. The mate hung to touch the floor. He maneuvered the shoe off of her foot and his hands reached up for her knee-high stockings.

Lecter’s touch felt almost familiar, and she was exceedingly close to yielding to him. But not quite. There was a barrier between them. For him, it was the lie of her unfaithful and general person. For her, it was the lie he believed about her. The wound he had caused would never be healed.

Arousal, despite Clarice’s better judgment, began to creep its way into her body. She widened her legs thoughtlessly, inviting his touch. He smiled a little and pressed his hand to her breast harder. She opened her mouth and sighed. She had started to slip into his grasp. Hannibal moved his mouth over her hardened nipple and started a slow licking a sucking ritual. Clarice had never had any man try anything remotely similar and the feeling was a welcome one.

A sound came from the back of her throat that was a mix between a gasp and a grunt. She was completely horny now and was thinking along the lines of never leaving the bedroom. Some say that hatred is a powerful attraction and this is not doubtful, seeing these two enemies wrapped up in a sensual pose.

His erection was high at this point, and she felt it’s heat against her outer thigh. Tauntingly, she moved her leg against it. The control she felt when he responded with a moan was heady. She wanted more, but not just of him. She wanted his surrender to her.

“Okay...” He sat up. His hands were tangled in the waistband of her panties. “Do you want to now?”

“How sweet,” she said mordantly. He made a face. Even aroused they still ticked each other off. “Yes.”

His hands went to remove his boxers almost immediately. She helped him with it, tugging and pulling until his penis sprang free. She leaned over partially and covered half of him with her as he reached behind her and tugged the underwear off. Her stockings were long gone, and she didn’t know when or where they had been removed.

Soon, they were both completely naked. Lecter swung himself on top of her. Clarice grasped the bedcovers between her hands like clamps. He wasted no time in penetrating her, much to her dismay. His first rational thought was that she was very tight. He pushed deep into her and it forced a low growl from Clarice’s throat. So she enjoyed him after all.

He rode her like an anxious high school-er. She was making small pouting noises that graduated to moans. The faster he went, the louder she was. She didn’t take him rough but liked it when he backed out almost all the way for a long a deep thrust. He found that they were perfect bed partners. It was a pity she was such a whore, he mused, otherwise something could have become of the two of them. Clarice clawed at his back as she neared a climax. Her back arched up off of the bed and her breasts were presented to him in perfect angle.

“Yes...yes..” he muttered. She was very wet and very tight. He didn’t stop to consider that he wasn’t wearing a rubber and she might not be on the pill.

He grabbed one of her breasts in his right hand and massaged deeply. The feel of her soft skin, intruded by her hard nipple was almost clouded over by a surge of ecstasy. Fucking God, he was close. So was she. Closer than him, in fact. He could feel her orgasm building up. A few more thrusts and she was going to come. Her mouth was open and her eyes were closed. He hoped she would look at him. He didn’t say anything. Thought was almost gone and he was aware of the fever building up.

“Oh...yes...yes...Clarice...” Her name ended on a screech.

They exploded almost in sync. When she came, an utter scream pierced the air. His bellow of prevalence almost soared above hers in pitch. He crumbled down into her waiting arms.

Part Fifteen-

Clarice never felt so low in her life. She shut the front door of the house behind her and felt her knees begin to give way. Right now, Clarice was beginning to favor the thought of public humiliation and no job. Anything had to be better than this blackmail and prostitution.

Clarice couldn’t think of anywhere to go, now that she was in her car. No one she knew would even begin to know how to help her, or even console her. She would go to Jack, but he was away in a case and would most likely end up making her feel bad, however unintentionally.

Exhausted and near tears, Clarice slumped over her steering wheel. There was an aching pain between her thighs and it felt sticky there, too. She turned her head to the side and observed that her cell phone was laying on the passenger seat next to her, bleeping a message.

Picking it up, she dialed her number to check her messages. BEEP! Ardelia left on a case and wouldn’t be back until after next week. Make that pot roast in the freezer and chill out, she had said. BEEP! Gale Madison, a lawyer and good friend of Clarice’s, called because Jack had called her. Clarice smiled at the sound of Gale’s tumbling voice. She could almost see her friend. Pushing the long red hair off of her forehead, chewing her lip and slapping her leg when Clarice didn’t answer.

Clarice hit star sixty nine and after two rings, Gale picked up the phone.

“Madison,” Gale barked into the phone.

“Gale, it’s Starling.”

“Clarice, baby! Sorry, my caller ID is off.”

“You use that shit? Damn girl! You have been so suckered into this technology thing.”

Gale laughed heartily and Clarice was comforted by the familiar sound. She started the engine of the car and put it in reverse to back out of the long driveway. She caught a flurry of movement up in the second floor window. A hand; Lecter’s hand, moving away from the window. She looked around sharply. Trying to shake off her feeling of edginess, Clarice turned the radio on low as she pulled out onto the street. Shaking her head, she focused on what Gale was saying.

“...so where are you anyway? Why don’t you come on over? We could discuss your current...predicament.” Clarice groaned.

“How much did he tell you?”

“Uncle Jack just told me about what that guy...uh...is it Kremler?”

“Paul Krendler. The bane of my existence.”

“I know,” Gale said sympathetically. “My poor uncle was really worked up. Haven’t seen him like that in a long, long time. He wouldn’t tell me everything, or so I got the feeling.”

“Did he...mention the thing Krendler said about us?”

A silent moment and then Gale cleared her throat. Clarice turned left on Vicer Street to get to Gale’s house.

“No, he didn’t say anything about the two of you. Just something about Krendler lying about how you got some assignments and that thing with the younger Lecter...Jon?”

“Yeah. He told you a bit. Not all of it, though.”

“What did he leave out?”

Clarice tapped her hand on the steering wheel, stalling and making a silent endeavor to try and find a way not to.

“Aside from some major new developments that he hasn’t yet been privy too, the accusation that I’ve been sleeping with him since before Bella died.”

The silence between Clarice’s last word and where Gale’s first was deafening. She cleared her throat in the dread filled stillness and Gale’s breathing was getting heavier and heavier.

“THAT MOTHER FUCKING ASSHOLE! HE IS GOING TO PAY!”

“I know, but how? It’s not like I can do anything illegal...” Clarice’s voice shook with apprehension of Gale’s next words.

“I can’t think about this.” Sounds of crashing and thumping could be heard in the background. “My god, if I think about this I’ll loose it and go kill that FUCKING bastard.” Clarice gripped the steering wheel tightly and surged into Gale’s driveway. “You’re here,” she said dully.

“Uh huh.”

“Come inside. What...what did you say about new problems?”

Clarice exhaled noisily and jerked up the parking break. She didn’t really want to talk about this...it’s was too big.

“We’ll save that for when I’m inside with a bottle of alcohol.”

“I have wine, that’s it.” Clarice smiled momentarily, a wisp of humor in her eyes.

“I don’t drink much anyway. You do have junk food, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do- damn girl, get your ass inside and tell me what happened!”

Part Sixteen-

Gale greeted her at the door with a glass so full of Candy Wine that she had to be careful of her footing, or else the pink liquid would slosh over the side of the rim. Her face bore an expression unmatched by anyone in rage. If Clarice had been lacking in emotion, which she was, she knew that, Gale made up for it. The deep, deep red flush on her very pale skin looked almost demonic in it’s aberrant color. Clarice gave a whimsy of a smile and pushed past Gale, her hand reaching out to grab the wine.

“How are you,” Gale asked from behind her.

Clarice took a long pause and didn’t answer until she dumped down on Gale’s chair and a half. She took a long swallow of the wine and set the half drained glass next to her on a place tile. She heaved her shoulders with a yawning breath and wondered if Gale had been allegorical. But the entreating raise of Gale’s eye brow answered her question before she could mouth it.

“I’m drained.”

“I can bet that, Clarice. You’ve gotten yourself into a big screamer this time.”

“That’s not even the half of it,” Clarice said ruefully, gazing up at the ceiling as if willing God down through the layers of roof and paint.

“Oh dear. What did I miss?”

“This,” Clarice said simply, reaching into her purse and fishing for the double folded copy of the contract that bound her to Lecter. She found it rapidly and handed it to Gale, her hands shaking.

Gale scrutinized the document carefully, her skilled lawyers face not revealing any semblance of her thoughts. Clarice thought she could see, though, in her eyes, flashes of rage and disbelief. She must have read it a second time because she took quite a long while. The paper was only just under a page. Short and sweet, Clarice surmised acerbically.

Gale’s long fingers flung the paper down on the rug in front of them. It fluttered to the floor slowly, catching currents on the air until finally, it landed face up on the cream carpet. Gale looked at burningly for a moment and turned to Clarice.

“You signed it.” Not a question, rather a statement of reprimanding.

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“Like hell you didn’t have a choice!”

Gale’s eyebrows narrowed and her mouth curled up. Clarice was half afraid...she didn’t know what to think, in all reality. What she did need, though, was for Gale to be supportive. She was going to voice that same thought when Gale held up a hand to steady herself.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so awful about this...but...” She ran her hand through her auburn hair, knocking the barrette out of it chaotically. “How in hell did you sign it?” She gaped at Clarice.

“I didn’t have a...” She trailed off before ‘choice’ when she saw Gale’s expression and had to think of another way to phrase it. “He was leaving me damn little space to object.”

“A little is some, Clarice. I can’t believe you would do this! Have you...” her expression turned to one of curious disgust. “SLEPT with him yet?”

“Y...Yes,” Clarice stammered. She was terrified of Gale combusting into a ball of fire right then and there.

“May I ask why?” The tone of her voice was almost sweet. Clarice could see the aggravation and anger behind it, carefully boarded up.

“He was going to get me fired.”

“How in HELL was he going to do that, Clarice?”

“Well...he was going to tell everyone what Krendler had said, as well as some bullshit of his own. And I had signed the contract...”

“We still haven’t even established why you had signed the damn thing in the first place. Had your rational mind gone out for a walk, Clarice?”

“Gale,” she quivered. All the horrible self-loathing thoughts she had pushed aside were coming back now, in the form of Gale’s angry outbursts. The horrible thing was that they were true.

“Clarice, I will try and help you with this, all right? But I can’t promise anything.” She drew in a gigantic breath and shook her head to clear it. “Now, I assume if you can prove Krendler wrong that the deal is off.” Clarice nodded.

“I would think so, yes.”

“Okay, okay.” Gale drew herself up into a little ball of thought and put the heels of her hands to her temples, trying to think. “Has anyone seen or heard Krendler come on to you?”

Clarice snorted.

“Not really. Maybe Jack, once or twice, but he wouldn’t have gone too far in front of anyone. And the dick-head could pass it off as innocent flirtation or friendliness, if he was desperate enough.”

“Can uncle Jack vouch for you?”

“Probably...” The makings of an idea sparked in Clarice’s head but were quickly squashed. “Wait...he said that if I told anyone that he would ‘reveal’ me to the press...and I doubt he’d believe Jack anyway...he’s pretty hung up on me being the slut of the month.”

“Damn,” Gale muttered. She shrugged her shoulders helplessly and turned to Clarice again. “We’ll figure something out. I promise you. Now I want you to figure out a way to get me to meet Doctor Dickhead.” Clarice giggled. “I want to find a way to maybe talk some sense into him. I’ll go talk to Jack-”

“No!” Clarice practically screamed. “He’d die if he knew...”

“Okay then, you’re right.” She laughed. “How about Krendler?”

“I doubt you’d achieve much there, Gale.”

“I don’t care. It’s worth a shot. Now, what I want you to do is try and find ANYTHING that could help your case.”

“Okay.” Clarice was miserable. She knew there was nothing.

“See if you can get me over for dinner at the Lecter’s, Clarice. I want to see this first hand before I do anything.” Gale paled when she realized it sounded like she was doubtful of Clarice. “I meant-”

“I know what you meant,” Clarice murmured, thankful, at last, to have someone who would try and help.

Part Seventeen-

Clarice climbed over the box of case files that sat in front of her desk chair, flipping one leg and then the other over it gracefully. Her hair hung in her eyes limply and she did not push it back. She scooted into her chair carefully and slumped her posture. A knock came from the door.

“Come in.”

To Clarice’s chagrined surprise, in walked Doctor Hannibal Lecter. She slammed her hands on her desk in surprise and fumbled for something to say while he looked around at the clutter of her office.

“You need to clean this up.”

“I don’t exactly have time to hire a maid.”

Lecter didn’t reply. Something on the bulletin slat above her head caught his eye and he walked over to it. She inched her chair away from him. Clarice noticed how his jaw worked when he saw the picture of one of the victims she had displayed. She had seen that look before. It was revulsion. He wasn’t used to this kind of thing, and Clarice had to grudgingly admit that the man bolted up and murder in rendering of the medieval diagram “Wound Man” was quite disgusting.

“That’s sickening,” he said, confirming her thoughts.

“Yeah. That’s why I’m trying to catch him and why I’m curious as to why you’re taking up my time to do that.”

“I wanted to invite you to dinner.”

“Is your family home?”

“Yes.”

“Have you lost your mind?”

“I doubt they could do much with Mischa and myself there, Clarice.”

“Don’t call me that,” she said automatically.

“What am I supposed to call you, then, if not your name? ‘My dear Mistress’?”

“Just...never mind. I’m not exactly happy about this.” She gave him an accusing look that he laughed at.

“So I’ve noticed.”

“What’s so damn funny? You still think I enjoy this kind of thing?”

“I don’t know Clarice, but you haven’t given me much of a reason to believe otherwise,” he retorted.

“So if I can prove I’m not what you think I am, then this whole arrangement is off?”

He gave her a cynical look and shrugged his shoulders carelessly.

“I doubt you could change my mind, but if you were able to give me ample proof that you are of decent character, then I suppose the contract would be invalid.”

Clarice took the information in and was very grateful for Gale suggesting it to her. Now her problem was figuring out how to prove her innocence. Nothing felt or looked promising.

“Okay,” she said.

“And don’t think that a few testimonies are going to change my mind. I mean proof.”

“What else is there,” Clarice exclaimed hotly.

“Really. That’s up to you to figure out.”

He turned his back to her and she didn’t speak again. Clarice lowered her head to the paperwork in front of her after flipping the bird to his back. Gale’s request to join dinner- though she didn’t say which night- rung in her head. She bit the inside of her lip, weighing her options.

“Can I invite someone to dinner tonight, please?”

He spun around to her with an unreadable expression and she crossed her arms coldly over her chest. The slip of the word ‘please’ in her question went noticed by both of them.

“A lover?”

“No.” Clarice almost laughed in disgust. “A friend, and my lawyer, Gale Madison.”

“Lawyer,” he repeated, turning lazily around her office and brushing his pointer finger across some of the caked dust on her desk top. “Why would she need a lawyer?” He asked this to himself, a hint of jest in his voice, though anger lurked behind it like a blade.

“That’s extraneous,” she answered, even though she knew it was query he did not need answered. “She just wanted to go- and I think I may need her around to keep Jon and Elise at bay.”

“You have Mischa,” he quipped, almost defensively.

“I doubt that will do a lot of good.”

“Are you taking my sister for granted?” He raised a haughty eyebrow at her and looked down at her from his elevation. She glowered at him from her desk chair and wished sincerely for the valor to stand up. “Don’t like her much anymore, Agent Starling, since she failed to come to your rescue the way you wanted?”

“Don’t be a complete dick, Doctor Lecter. I really like your sister, but I don’t think she’s enough to stop your endearing fiancee and brother. It didn’t help much last time, did it?”

“It doesn’t matter. You can invite your friend- I’m happy to have her, as long as she is of decent person.” Clarice fumed and opened her mouth to snap his head off but he ignored her. “As for my family, you needn’t worry. I will take care of them before they can do any real damage.”

He made move to leave and she resisted the strong urge to trip him on his way out with her foot.

“See you at dinner,” she tossed out as he left the doorway.

Part Eighteen-

Clarice watched anxiously out of her car window for Gale’s vehicle. She bit her lip, looking for the Dodge Viper to appear with so much anxiety she thought she would burst. Inside, she could hear the bustling of movement. She was even more terrified to go inside that damn house than she was when she had been in Gumb’s basement. She knew it sounded stupid, but it was quite true.

“Damn it Gale! Where the fuck are you when I need you?”

As if on cue, a car came rumbling into the long, curved driveway, Squeeze’s ‘Tempted’ so loud that the earth seemed to shake. Gale parked swiftly and undid her seatbelt, looking very relaxed, sitting in her car for a few moments more. She opened the door and got out, the radio still on, the lyrics pounding...

“...Tempted by the fruit of another. Tempted but the truth is discovered. What's been going on? Now that you have gone. There’s no other...Tempted by the fruit of another...”

She hummed along happily, and Clarice bounced out of her car.

“You’re late!” Panic, panic, panic....

“I’m here, and I’m sorry.” She shoved her hair out of her eyes and into a barrette.

She was very pale, and the makeup she wore did little to hide it. In fact, the deep burgandy-ish color of her lipstick seemed to bleed over her face. Despite all of this, she looked beautiful.

“Again, I’m sorry,” she said, placing a hand over Clarice’s shaking shoulder. “We had a back-up at the office; paperwork and everything. But I’m here now, and I’m gonna try and kick some ass.” A limp smile punctuated the sentence.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to handle all this, Gale,” Clarice whispered forlornly.

“I’m here. With any luck, you won’t have to say much.”

Without another word, Gale leaned over and took her car keys out of the ignition. The music cut abruptly during the middle of the song, and left them silent, save for the noises coming from the house. Gale took Clarice’s arm and they walked slowly up to the house, which to Clarice had begun looking like an old haunted house she had lived down the block from as a child.

Before Clarice even raised her hand to ring the bell, the door swung open and she was caught looking dead at the dreaded Elise. She had expected a housekeeper or even Doctor Lecter. But now she had the anti-Christ, Geana Tai body splash wearing, florescent lipstick, beautiful, ice maiden Elise herself.

Elise pouted at Clarice with deadly eyes, but when she saw Gale standing next to her, the mother of all glares on her perfect face, she paled at least three skin tones.

“What are YOU doing here?”

“The one you call fiancee invited us. Where is the old bag, anyway?”

If Gale hadn’t have been standing in the face of danger herself, Clarice would have laughed until she cried.

“He’s inside with Jonathon,” Elise said, tightlipped.

“O...okay...” Clarice’s lower lip quivered before she had a chance to catch it with her teeth. Elise glared again and left the door hanging open, not bothering to show them inside.

“Hannibal,” she yelled dramatically, marching with clenched fists down the long corridor and towards the dining room, “SHE is here. SHE and some FRIEND.”

“Yes, I know.” And out he stepped. Gale, not catching herself in time, gave a low whistle of appreciation.

Doctor Lecter wore casual black slacks and a rich, forest green sweater, despite the evening being mildly warm. Hair freshly washed and haphazardly combed, he looked like he belonged in an addition of VOGUE more than standing in the middle of his own foyer.

“Go into the dining room, Elise,” he said in a low voice, giving Gale a glance and Clarice a long stare.

“Humph,” Elise snorted, but she marched on to the dining room. Before the door to it closed, she said in an elevated voice, “That whore is back, Jon. I don’t know what Hannibal is thinking. She’s brought some snob friend with her, too...” the door slammed behind her and whatever she had to say next was lost. Gale didn’t even try to cover her chuckle.

“Little dramatic, don’t you think? I’m Gale.”

“Gale...?” Hannibal wanted to know her last name.

“Yes. That’s my name.” They engaged in a hearty stare-down.

“Do you have anything more to that? Like Jones or Smith?”

“Madison.”

“Madison, Madison. Gale Madison. The name is familiar...?”

“I’m a defense attorney,” she said coldly.

“Ah, yes. I had forgotten. Didn’t you try the Barker/Menlento case?”

“Yes.”

“You won, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll have to watch out for you then,” he said with a wink, but Gale wasn’t sure he was completely kidding. “Come into the dining room, defense attorney Gale Madison, and you too, Clarice.” He didn’t spare Clarice a second look.

“What are we having?” Gale was extremely hungry.

“Nothing big. Pasta, salad, and fish.”

“That’s food enough,” she commented.

Part Nineteen-

Gale’s first thought upon entering the dining room was that it was chilly, and not just the temperature. Jon, or who she assumed was Jon, based on the dark hair and deep eyes, sat sulking in his chair and it reminded Gale of her brother at Christmas one year when she had gotten the bike he wanted. She didn’t even bother to smile- a wasted gesture.

She was forced to take a seat between Elise and Clarice. Hannibal was on Clarice’s other side and Jon beyond that. She was grateful that the man had enough good sense not to force the unlikely people together.

Elise, when she wasn’t thrusting her chest out dramatically and glaring at Clarice, was shooting looks at Jon. Gale’s eyes followed them intently, back and forth, until they caught wind and stopped.

“Lovely meal, isn’t it,” Lecter remarked with difficulty.

“Uh huh,” Elise said, a delicate snort barley concealed. Jon stabbed at the hearts of romaine lettuce with his fork.

“Does anyone know what the next course is,” Hannibal asked, and winced because the look Gale sent him was insulting. Hadn’t he just told she and Clarice in the hall what they were having? “Oh, I forgot,” he lied badly, “it’s pasta. I hope we have pesto.” Silence. Elise’s fork hit her plate rather loudly.

Clarice had told Gale that she was nearly afraid of Lecter, that he was imposing and a man in charge of his own space, but Gale couldn’t see it. To her, he looked like a nervous wreck that seriously regretted what he had done. Well, all the better. Maybe she could use that to their advantage.

“What did you do today, Jon?” Doctor Lecter asked, reigning in some of his forgotten dignity.

The man Gale sat across from raised his eyes slowly, going for daunting but ending up just looking stoned. He pursed his lips in a frown at Clarice and looked at her directly while he spoke.

“Nothing. I just went over a few things at the office. After that, I went out to get a drink with Elise.”

Elise herself was itching to say something, Gale could see, and so was Clarice. She kept looking around the room, as if trying to see if someone was there. Elise was looking at her plate in the same fashion. They spoke at the same time.

“Where is Mischa-”

“Why is she here, Hannibal-”

They stopped and looked at each other, ice meeting fear, and glanced quickly back down at their plates.

Doctor Lecter, after slowly finishing off his last bite, shifted to the right in his seat and tapped his hand on the table.

“I can answer both of those questions, actually.” He looked like he was going to clear his throat but never got there. “Mischa expresses her apologies, Clarice, but an emergency came up- her son is in the hospital.”

Gale could almost see the surprise work its way over Clarice’s face- none of them had ever heard anything about a son. It must be one of those hidden family secrets.

“And as to why Clarice is here, Elise, it is because I invited her. Nothing more need be said on that.”

“What, are you trying to make us talk so everything will go away?” Jon sounded a lot like a pouting child, to match his demeanor. “I can’t forget what she did, Hannibal.” The tone sounded like a warning.

“Nor can I,” Elise put in, trying to sound adult and coming across snide and stupid. Jeezus! What I am, bitch of the month tonight, Gale asked herself. I’m never this vigilant.

“This isn’t your say, Elise,” Lecter said instructionally. “It’s my house and my say.” Elise could hear the ‘and I don’t care if you don’t like her’ behind it, though he didn’t say it.

“But I,” Elise began in a breathy whine.

“Jesus,” Gale began, knowing she couldn’t take anything the blonde bitch had to say. “Can’t you let things just be the way they are? Does everything have to be status quo?” Another glare. Hannibal whipped his head around to look at Gale with an unreadable face.

“I beg your pardon?” Icy Elise sat right up and looked like a peacock with it’s feathers spread out.

“No.” And Gale dropped her eye contact with Gale and moved over to Lecter. “You’re going to marry her?” Nothing from him on that, so she shrugged and ate another bite of the salad.

“Please, refrain from speaking about Elise that way.” Gale was somewhat surprised at Jon’s effrontery.

“I’ll damn well speak about her any way I chose if she talks about my friend that way. You don’t even know half of what’s going on.”

“If you’re going to start a fight,” Jon started, surprisingly placid, “then do it with someone who will fight back.”

“All right then. Let me spell this out for you; you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!” Irritated, Gale shook her head and pushed her plate to the side of the table. It clinked against Lecter’s.

“Who the hell do you-”

“Jon, please.” Doctor Lecter set Jon back down with his eyes.

“Take your petty crap somewhere else,” Gale couldn’t resist adding. “I’m not one to listen to it here.”

“If I weren’t as good of a man, I’d-”

“If you weren’t as dumb of a man you would have thought of a good enough reply for that, save for dodging it.”

Jon colored considerably, though he did do a hell of a job trying to hide it. Elise gasped, and it was followed by a furious amount of eye batting.

“Careful, the fake eye lashes might fall off,” Gale said helpfully. This time, Clarice didn’t bother to conceal her laughter.

“Oh, you just find this so funny, you...you...hussy,” Elise sputtered.

“Oh, come on sugar, give her a break. I’m sure you can stop being Popular Miss of the Year and shut up for a moment. You might just learn something.”

“Like what? How to act like you?” Elise tried to talk with disdain, and ‘you’ ended up sounding like ‘yooooouuu.’

“Barbie, you couldn’t act if you tried. Your outrage is laughable enough as it is. Don’t even try a normal sized IQ.”

“Ugh,” Elise said, not even bothering with trying to reply.

“That’s answer enough,” Gale said, tipping her head back to take a sip of the white whine.

Part Twenty-

Gale maneuvered out of the Lecter door quicker than she thought she could move, with Clarice a few feet behind her. She paid no attention to the cold glare from Elise or the sharp eyes of Jon- she just knew she had had enough.

After dinner, they had gone into the parlor for coffee and no one had said a damn word. Gale could have taken it if Elise had started up on her again, or even Jon, but everyone had just gone mute, staring around the room like they didn’t know why they were there.

Now she was glad to be out and to take Clarice with her. Ironically, after that very thought, she heard Lecter come up behind Clarice and say something to her in a soft monotone. Clarice replied in a slightly rushed voice and that was that.

The door closed.

*****

Doctor Lecter, after Clarice’s refusal to come to his bed that night, sat with the heels of his hands pressed to his forehead. His jaw worked impatiently under his skin, and the tick of anger drove him to restlessness. He needed to move.

Hannibal sat up quickly and ripped the green sweater off of him, leaving the gray shirt underneath of it as his cover. He cooled down almost instantaneously. He faced his dresser and closet, hands braced defensively on his hips, anger on his face. What right did SHE have to turn him down? His first mistake was letting that loud-mouthed Gale over for dinner- though, he had to admit, she had been truthful and quite funny. But no doubt Elise and Jon would wring his neck for it, if not for Clarice’s being there to begin with.

Someone knocked at his door. His lips curved into a smile that was completely humorless. They left him alone when he wanted company and now, finally, when he wanted to be alone he was bothered.

Elise came in without him beckoning for her. She closed the door nearly soundlessly, and leaned against it, staring at him, one or two locks of curled blonde hair trailing over her shoulder. Her lips pouted at him.

“I was thinking that you were maybe lonely.” As always, her words were filled with holes.

“And?” He was rarely impatient with her, and now was one of those times. Her eyes widened and what looked like tears glistened in them.

“And I thought we should talk, Hannibal.” His name was whimpered and he instantly regretted being short with her. It wasn’t her fault things weren’t working out the way he wanted them to.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized.

“For what?” She shook her head like she really didn’t know. Hannibal found it sweet.

“For treating you in a way you don’t deserve.”

He wasn’t very good at apologizing because he rarely felt the need for it. But she was a tender little thing; it would be easy to bruise her feelings. He felt a surge of anger at Starling; she had used Elise’s giving nature for her own sick advantages. Never again, he vowed.

“Oh, Hannibal. I didn’t take it too hard. I knew you were a little stressed.” She gave him a look of sympathy. “But the only thing I’m wondering is why you invited the Starling woman over here for dinner. And with that horrible friend!”

“Yes, she was a bit of a bitch, wasn’t she?” Hannibal laughed.

“Hannibal, please. I didn’t like being talked to that way. It made me sad.” As if demonstrating, her mouth turned down into another variation of the pout she always wore.

“I am sorry, darling.” He gave her another apologizing look. “Here, come here,” and he opened his arms to her.

She crushed against his chest, wrapping her pale and perfect arms around his back. Sobbing delicately, she twisted so that her face was turned to the side against his chest. She nuzzled him with her nose.

“Oh, Hannibal! It makes me feel sad...about what she did to Jon. And the look on his face! Promise me you won’t hurt Jon again! Please, my love.” She lifted a hand and placed it right above his heart. He couldn’t resist her plea.

“I promise you, my darling, that I will never hurt you or Jon again, as long as I live.”

She raised her head up to smile at him, pale skin just barley streaked with tears and hair mussed just a little. He felt guilt then, for what he had done and what he would do with Starling. He was betraying this innocent, glorious creature right before him for an overused slut like Starling. And what for? To teach her some sort of lesson?

He had lied when he told Starling that Elise had her own lovers. It wasn’t true. How could it be, he asked himself as she touched her palm to his cheek.

“I love you,” she whispered up at him. He smiled gently at her and leaned in for a kiss.

She responded eagerly, if a bit naively. She had had a sheltered youth. So sheltered, in fact, that she had no time for the sticking fumblings in the backseats of cars. No doubt Starling had no end of those, in her childhood, wherever she had grown up in the dirty south.

But he didn’t think of Elise’s lack of experience as she gently guided him back towards his bed. He admitted to himself that he was a little shocked at her boldness, but decided he really didn’t care as she let her soft little hands drift to his belt buckle.

He also decided that Elise was a woman he would much rather spend his life with than Starling. Starling was too...too much experience. He didn’t want a woman who came to him with so much knowledge and experience that she might be bored with his skills as a lover.

So caught up was Lecter in the gentleness of Elise’s lovemaking, that he didn’t notice her wicked victory smile. He came swiftly, and she did too, and he didn’t even contemplate why it felt like she didn’t have a hymen, so good was her caress. They fell asleep very quickly.

Part Twenty One

Clarice, a nervous wreck even two days after the dinner party, was shaking as she picked up the ringing phone. The ring itself had startled her away from her book. All of the stress of late had left Clarice shaky and she was lucky if she could accomplish simple things.

“Hello?”

“Clarice.” The voice was simply Doctor Lecter’s.

“Doctor Lecter?” She asked him in a dumb voice, perfectly aware of who it was.

“Mmm...I’m calling to see if you’re free to meet me this afternoon?” Though it was said like a polite inquiry, Clarice knew that if she were not free, he’d order her to find the time. Still, she clawed desperately for an out.

“I’m expecting a phone call, so-”

“I’ll come over there,” he cut in shortly.

“Oh, all right.” Clarice certainly hadn’t expected this, but she hadn’t lied about the phone call.

“I’ll be over there in about an hour and a half.”

“Okay,” she answered him, still knowing she didn’t have a damn choice. It never even occurred to her to leave before he came over.

*****

Gale had checked with her uncle Jack on the location of Krendler’s office, saying it was for a letter a client of hers needed to send. It turned out that he was in the same group of buildings that Jack and Starling were also located in. Gale eyed the Justice Department Official Seal as she pulled in next to an old Ford.

Her steps were intent and with each stride her face became more set. She wasn’t quite sure what she was going to get from Krendler, but knew without any measure of a doubt that she’d get it.

Swinging the glass doors open easily, Gale marched over to the secretary at the front desk and gave the bored looking blonde with a name tag saying ‘Kandis- May I help you?’ her name.

“I’m here to see Paul Krendler.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Kandis didn’t bother to ring her in and just pointed down the hallway with one neon two inch fingernail, gum snapping.

Krendler’s office was, luckily enough in her heels, on the ground floor. She knocked swiftly and when the male voice called for her to come in, she did exactly that.

Her first reaction to Krendler was an effortless one. While his eyes did cartwheels over her legs, she frowned at his lewdness.

“Good morning, Mr. Krendler.”

“It is now,” he said with a wide smile, moving from her legs to her tits. She instantly pulled her briefcase up to cover herself under the pretense of looking for a breath mint.

“My name is Gale Madison, and I’m here to speak to you on a matter that has some personal means on both our sides.”

He moved like a turtle in his chair, head bobbing to the side and stomach bulging out for a mili-second. He frowned at his fingernails after raising them to eye level.

“What is your profession, Gale?” He smiled at her again.

“I’m a lawyer, Mr. Krendler, and because of my station I would proffer to be called Ms. Madison or ma’am, if you please.”

“No, I don’t please,” he said, and Gale thought back to a phrase Clarice said he’d used about her; ‘cornpone country count.’ Lovely individual. He flashed another smile at her after his angry scowl. “But if it pleases you, MS. MADISON, it’ll please me. I aim to please.” Another damn smile after his stupid generic pun and Gale had a mental picture of herself retching all over his faux Gucci tie.

“Now, I’m not going to glorify or beat around the bush here much,” she said. His eyes snaked to that particular part of her body after she said the word.

“By all means.”

“May I sit,” she asked irritably.

“Why, of course. Didn’t mean to keep you standing.” He gestured to a fake leather chair- was anything about this man real?- and made for her to sit in it.

“I’m coming in behalf of my dear, dear friend, Clarice Starling.” Petty grin was replaced by a much more believable frown. She leaned forward in her chair, putting her hands on either side of the desk menacingly. “Now, I know what you did. It’d just please me to hear it from your own lips, Paul.”

“I don’t believe I know what you’re yapping about, Ms. Madison.”

She laughed, turning her head to the side as if smelling something foul.

“I DO believe that you’re lying through your capped teeth, Mr. Krendler. Either that or your memory is worse than I thought it would be. Bicardi or Port, Paul?” She wasn’t the only one who needed a breath mint.

“I...” She caught him. A devilish grin in the wake of that. “Now, wait a minute, damnit! I’d like to know what you’re playing at!”

“Slander...a great deal of it, too. I think that your forefathers on the plantation would be proud.”

*****

Amidst the heavy fucking on the bed, the phone rang and was not answered. Clarice longed to reach for it, to make Lecter stop the assault on her very dignity, but couldn’t muster the strength to. The answering machine picked it up.

“Hi, its Starling at 431-3187. Leave your name and a message and I’ll call you back. I can also be reached at 521-8769, extension 344 if you’re looking for me under work purposes. Thanks.”

“Clarice, its Gale...baby...I didn’t get anything from Krendler...he was a prick, just like you said. Acted like he didn’t know a damn thing.” A long sigh. Doctor Lecter stopped his thrusts to listen. “Anyway, I’ll call back later and tell you more. We’ll get proof enough somehow, Clarice. G’bye.”

Lecter pulled off of her with a stony face.

“Don’t think that cheap tricks like that one will work, Clarice. I’m much smarter than what you give me credit for.”

And the fucking resumed.

Part Twenty Two-

“I got a page from Gale- Clarice, did you know she went over to Krendler’s and reamed him out?” Crawford looked at her with his usual cluelessness from behind a computer print out.

“She mentioned something, yes,” Clarice said, trying hard not to choke on her blueberry muffin because of her dry mouth.

“It says here that Krendler’s writing up a report for harassment. Damn.” He shook his head; Jack cared for his niece.

“And people wonder why I don't spring outta bed every morning with a big fuckin’ hard-on for my job,” Clarice snarled, slamming her half eaten muffin with the wrapper on Jack’s desk. She watched the pieces crumble with a bored fascination.

“Hey, I have to try and work off that desk, Starling.” He spoke with a smile that looked dull to Clarice’s eyes.

“Sorry,” she grumbled. “I’m just not doing to well.” Clarice looked off to the corner, embarrassed with herself. “I shouldn’t be telling you this.”

“Who then?”

“I must need a shrink,” she said, only half kidding. With all of the situations she had mangled her way into, it was another third miracle everyday that she didn’t end up banging her head against a wall somewhere.

Jack shook his head, trying to dispel the dreary mood.

“You know Krendler’s just trying to cause trouble and is going to do it however he sees fit, Clarice.”

“How do you figure that,” she asked, coming up short with her boss and relieved when he didn’t seem to notice.

“The way he works.”

Clarice mockingly flirted her eyes at the ceiling.

“He doesn’t work...he just...” she fumbled for words and heaved a sigh when nothing good came. “He just is.”

“I’m not religious, but Amen to that.”

Crawford tilted his paper to her in a gesture not unlike a toast and lifted it back, seemingly bored now with the conversation. Clarice, picking sightlessly at her muffin crumbs, thought she had something to do but couldn’t remember what it was.

She absently flopped around in her chair, looking rather stupid but not caring. After a sequence of wrist banging, tongue chewing and feet kicking, she lifted herself out of the chair and made for the door of Crawford’s office.

“Starling?” His voice reached her on unawares.

“Yeahuh?” Swinging back around, she saw him with one finger tapping lightly on his chin.

“Why don’t you take the rest of the week off?”

“Why, sir?” Directly, she felt a skip of fear. If she had nothing to do, that meant more time for Lecter.

“Clarice, I know that this Krendler bullshit is bothering you. I can see it- you practically tore up my chair when your mind was able to wander. I think you need a break.”

“Jack, with all due respect here, too, a break is really the last thing I need right now,” she said meekly.

“Well, I’m just going to have to tell you to sit on it until Monday morning, okay? Go do some girl stuff.” He shooed her out of the office without another glance.

Clarice stepped out into the hall wearing a unguarded, powerless expression. Even after she had put in her objection, however lightly, he had seen past it and sent her to the last place she wanted to be- home. At least at work she could try and evade Doctor Lecter and now she was completely at his leisure's mercy.

“Fuck you, Jack Crawford,” she hissed at his open door, knowing he couldn’t hear a damn thing she said.

Luckily, to save her if she actually got enough courage to go back in there and tell him what for, her cell rang. Rolling her head full circle over her shoulders as a rather poor expression of tension, she barked into the phone her name.

“Are you busy,” came the answering voice with as much brashness.

Starling stomped her foot silently on the ground three times, teeth clenched and hand smacked to her forehead before answering.

“Lecter. No, I’m not.” <Why don’t you lie, Clarice? Just lie.>

“Good. Mischa wants to see you.”

All the strain that had been building up relaxed when she realized that Doctor Lecter didn’t want to use her again.

“I’ll be right over.”

*****

“I understand your friend Gale really let Elise have it the other night,” Mischa said, peering over her coffee cup, eyes including daring and mischief.

“Justly deserved,” Clarice said over her scone, uncrossing her legs under the table.

“True...” Mischa pursed her lips and abruptly set down her cup. “I have to admit I chuckled when Elise came to me and informed me of what a torrid bitch you have of a friend...not in those words, mind you.”

Clarice had to laugh at the word ‘bitch’ coming from Mischa’s mouth.

“She did go a little overboard, but she’s protective of me.”

“Justly deserved, I am to assume, eh?” Mischa crossed her arms over the top of the table and leaned in confidentially.

“True...” Clarice looked down at the napkin she had twined through her fingers. “Mischa...I have to tell you something.”

“Of course, dear.”

“After he made you leave that morning for breakfast...something happened.”

Part Twenty Three

“Really?” Mischa eyed her over the coffee. Clarice couldn’t stop shaking again- it seemed that every time she tried to talk about or even think about Doctor Lecter and their ‘relationship’, she froze up.

“I...uh...he..”

“Come on, you can spit it out. I promise I won’t be mad. At you, anyway,” she muttered, flitting her eyes to the side and then directing them back at Clarice.

“He told me that if I weren’t his mistress for a year, he’d ruin my career.” Clarice gave her the short version, not wanting to patronize her staying power.

Mischa’s cup hit the table sideways on its slam down to it. The anger that bounced off of her face was strong- stronger, it seemed, then Clarice’s own. The shock value of her situation still clung, so she excused it where others did not.

“You can’t tell Doctor Lecter I told you,” Clarice pleaded frantically.

“That’s bullshit. At this point, I’m going to try to keep myself from stabbing the son of a bitch.” It was again unnerving to hear the kindly woman swear.

“Here,” she said, and handed Mischa the contract.

She took it, eyes still burning with hatred. Clarice was unhappy to have upset Mischa and to create friction between siblings made it even worse. There was no question in her mind now that Mischa would talk to her brother about it, and Clarice wondered feebly what would happen to her when she saw the Doctor next.

Mischa snorted as she read over the binding agreement. Her hand went to her lips and rested there while she read, blinking in amazement and disbelief. After a moment more, she sent the paper back over to Clarice who refolded it and stuck it in between her lipstick and hairbrush.

“Rest assured that I’m going to talk to Hannibal.” Clarice tried to cut in and protest but Mischa held up a hand. “No amount of complaining will stop it, Clarice. I hate that he did this to you, and it surprises me too. He must really like you,” she added with a wry smile.

“He hates me,” Clarice spoke with much conviction.

Mischa shook her head.

“No, he likes you. He told me himself, before the whole Jon debacle. An attraction of sorts. I’m sure Elise isn’t very happy about it.” Mischa grinned. “Jon told me about you and your friend Gale at dinner. I’m sorry I missed it. It would have been fun and if I had known...” she trailed off, and Clarice knew without a doubt that she very much regretted not being there, despite her son’s being sick. It was touching.

“It was rather funny, some of the things Gale said, now that I look back on it.”

“She gave my fiancee quite a stir,” came a voice from the doorway, and Clarice jumped in her seat.

“Doctor Lecter.”

“How long have you been peeping, Hannibal?”

He moved into the room.

“Oh, just for a moment now. I caught the last bit about Gale.” He smiled, but once again it held no trace of warmth or humor. “What have you two been cackling about?”

“I’ll speak with you later, Hannibal. For now let us be.”

Clarice was glad for Mischa’s request for privacy, and even more grateful for her not mentioning the contract in front of her. Clarice knew there would be a fight, and did not want to be present for it. Silently, she gave a prayer of thanks for Mischa.

“As you wish.” He gave a small mock bow and swooped out of the room. Clarice heaved a sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” Clarice offered, and Mischa nodded distractedly, checking to see if Hannibal was indeed gone from earshot.

“Any time. I didn’t think you’d want to be present for a family brawl, anyway.”

“You were right. I just can’t think about it, or I’ll get depressed.”

“Rightfully so.” Mischa bristled. “I can’t believe the audacity of Hannibal enslaving you as a mistress...and with PAY! I wish sometimes that I had never been born into this family.”

“You can’t mean that.” Clarice protested blindly, wishing deeply that she hadn’t told Mischa and saved them the enmity.

“You have no idea.” Mischa gestured with her hand to their quality surroundings. “All of this is not worth the crap I put with. And his stupid bird of a fiancee...I can’t BELIEVE he’s marrying her.”

“Gale shares your opinion.”

“What, and you don’t? You have to be kidding me. All she is good for is eye candy. Doesn’t know what two plus two is. Believe me, I’ve asked her.” Mischa laughed.

“All right, I’ll give you that she isn’t very smart, but she can’t be all bad.”

Mischa shook her head, a pinched expression on her face.

“Listen to you, the vision of charity. She’s as dumb as a fucking rock.”

Clarice tried to feign revelation but ended up laughing instead.

Part Twenty Four

“And remember to pick up my paperwork and go through my desk while you’re there,” Clarice told Ardelia in a rush. Her cell phone was going out and Clarice didn’t feel like waiting to get her stuff.

“Su..e,” came the static-filled reply. She was on her way to the office to pick up her official mail and any notes anyone had left, newly back from her trip.

“All right. See you in an hour.” Clarice frowned at the clock- it was past eight and she was waiting for a phone call from Gale.

“Fine. Glad to be back, Star-” the line went dead, the cell phone finally at the end of its patients.

Clarice dropped her own cell back onto the bed beside her and scanned over the glowing black-and-purple screen before her. The phone rang again, jerking her away from it, and she jumped to answer it, hoping it was Gale. It was.

“Speaking.”

“Hey, Clarice.”

“Oh, hi.”

Clarice kept reading the words in front of her; ‘...sighed as she happily received each one of his forceful pumps, getting wetter with each one, her clitoris now engorged and stimulated close to climax,’ and then later, ‘oOHHHH..I love it ...you bastard..." She sighed as she took all of him in that she could.’

“Heh. Those guys...” A small smile, the first in a while, painted her face light and defied the pain she felt.

“What is it?”

“Oh, just stories about some Doctor...Anyway, I’m glad you called. Ardelia will be back tonight.” There was a trace of regret in her tone.

“Great! I haven’t seen her for a while.” A pause, as Gale thought. “Are you going to tell her?”

Clarice skimmed down the page and was silent before thinking about Gale’s question to answer it. ‘"Oh..baby..I'm gonna come.." she said as she felt her orgasm approach,’ sent her into a blushing fit and she cleared her throat.

“I have to, I guess.” Lingering regret interspersed her words crept into her mind and she fought to keep her attention on the laptop screen in front of her and Gale’s conversation.

“Yes. I’ll tell her, if you don’t want to.” Clarice knew how often Gale made efforts in difficult situations not her own and was slightly touched.

“No, that’s fine, but thanks. I think I’ll handle this one- after all, I’ve told two people already.” She tried to keep her voice cheery.

“But not Ardelia.” Gale’s tone implied that there was something almost akin to betrayal in that, but it was deceiving. Gale was worried, because she knew how Ardelia would react.

“No. You’re right.”

“And on that note, I’m afraid I have to get going- I’ve got a date.” A humorous pause. “And not the kind powered by batteries.”

“I’m impressed.” And she was; Gale was less then social with men, despite her being very pleasing to the eye and smart enough to hold her own. “Give my best to the male escort.” Gale snorted.

“Sure.”

There was a click and Clarice hung up, not at all stunned by the abrupt end to the conversation. Settling back into the bed and computer, she was content to read ‘Ruby Tuesday’ and wait for Ardelia, but the phone rang again. Picking it up with an aggravated smile and thinking it was Gale; she laughed cheerfully into the receiver.

“Honestly! Your mind must be on that male hooker or something. Whaddya want?” She laughed again into the phone.

“Well, your friend’s taste must run to the male...er, population, but I assure you that all my attention is for the female breed.” Laughter was hidden in that deep tone.

“Doctor Lecter.” She felt her stomach plunge inward and nearly doubled over from the feel of it.

“Really, are you done calling me that? Its very unnerving.”

“Hannibal? Is that was you want me to call you?” She swatted at her annoying, trying to cage it, as one would a fly.

“Sure.” She grunted. “Actually, I’m surprised you condone that. I was only hoping for the progression to ‘Mister‘, so you’ve succeeded in surprising me. Color this Hannibal impressed.”

Clarice said nothing and went back to her computer screen. Realizing she had finished ‘Ruby Tuesday,’ she changed web sites.

“So,” she said, as amazon.com loaded, “why did you call?”

She was minimally surprised to find that it was getting easier to talk with Doctor Lecter, and felt a pang of disgust. The other and somewhat rational side of her argued that it would be better if she didn’t hate him, else their arrangement would feel like rape.

“Well, I found myself home alone and in dire need of company.” His tone was playful and light, as hers had been.

“Me.” She glanced at her clock. “Well, my roommate will be home soon-”

“Ardelia is back?”

This surprised her. She had no idea he knew of Ardelia and wondered if he had done a ‘background check’ on her. Nothing more than curiosity sparked, so she thought to ask him when she got there.

“Yes. She’ll be back in about forty five minutes, so I’ll be there in say and hour and a half.” There was no begging for permission in her voice; she’d be there in that amount of time or not at all.

“Okie dokie.”

Clarice was struck with laughter at those fantastically ridiculous words coming out of his esteemed mouth, and she giggled into the phone.

“What?”

“Just the way you said that...”

“Oh.” His tone was dry now; obviously he didn’t find it as funny as she had, so she stopped laughing, remembering that she hated him.

Part Twenty Five

Ardelia stayed home for only a few minutes. Her boyfriend, Mike, was waiting for her at his apartment and she was in a rush to get to him. Clarice smiled and hugged her friend, taking the bag of stuff Ardelia had brought from the office. She had no idea of the situation with Lecter, and it was going to stay that way, for a while at least.

“Well, I’ve got to be off. But I’m cooking tonight, girl. I think you deserve it- ya look like a truck ran over you a few times.”

Clarice laughed, but it was hollow. Still her nights were passed without sleep and her days were even worse, spent in hours of boredom.

“That’s fine, Delia. I’ve got to get going too.”

Ardelia stepped back, still holding on to Clarice’s arms in their hug, and arched an eyebrow.

“A guy?”

“Eh, no,” Clarice lied swiftly. Ardelia face fell. “But you can reach me on my cell if you need to, but I have the feeling you won’t. Mikey’ll keep you company, won’t he?” Clarice swatted Ardelia playfully on her forearm.

“I would hope so.” Ardelia shook her head in a pitying manner. “We STILL need to get you a sex life, don’t we?”

“Yes,” Clarice frowned.

*****

Hannibal opened the door with a smile. It was unusual for Clarice to see him in such a cheerful mood, and she instantly longed to step back out of the door and head for home.

“You’re right on time,” he observed, and she nodded slowly.

“Yeah, thanks for noticing,” she said with a hint of sarcasm.

“I was just having something to eat- would you like anything?” He shut the door behind her and walked down the hallway, keeping pace to where she could walk with him. This puzzled her.

“Sure. I didn’t get a chance to eat much today, and I’m waiting for Ardelia to cook tonight...but she’s at her boyfriends and it takes a while when she cooks...” Clarice noted that she was rambling and hastened to stop. Doctor Lecter turned back to smile charmingly at her.

“Ah, is Ardelia a good cook?”

“Very,” Clarice said with an affirmative nod. The oddity of them talking about her roommate in their situation wasn’t unknown to her.

“I am a big fan of food. The more exotic the better. I myself have been called a remarkable chef. Perhaps someday I will cook for you, eh?” He led her into a smaller dining room off of the main one and sat her in a heavily padded chair. “It’s fascinating to watch you eat,” he observed. “You take such small bites but manage to devour a lot of quantity in a relatively small amount of time without piggish behavior.”

Clarice squirmed uncomfortably in her seat as he took his own, and saw that the table had already been set for two. Had Doctor Lecter planned this small and quixotic dinner? If he had, then maybe the nagging suspicion that he had taken her as his mistress for another reason then to teach her a lesson was more than a hunch and had a valid point. <Stop it,> she told herself. <You’re just babbling to yourself.>

“I hope you enjoy Salmon?”

“I love it,” she answered truthfully. Salmon and Catfish were her two favorite fish.

“Ah, I had a feeling you did,” he said as he spooned Beluga Caviar onto the small plate to his right. Clarice passed on it when he handed it to her.

Doctor Lecter had a curious look on his face, and if Clarice knew what he was thinking, she in all probability would have laughed at him. His inner dilemma, the fact of being attracted to her all while knowing she was a presumed slut and with him being engaged had twisted his inner voice. An all out war was going on inside of his head.

“So, where is everyone?”

He glanced up at her with bemusement written all over him.

“Do you realize that every time we see each other, you ask me this?” She just stared back at him. “Well, if you must know, Mischa is gone again to visit her son and will be back tomorrow, Jon is...spending the night at visiting friend’s hotel, and Elise is with her mother in Aspen Hill.”

“Did you arrange for that,” she asked acidly.

“Don’t be so imprudent, Clarice. I have nothing to do with their being away.”

Clarice found that difficult to believe but said no more. Spending the rest of their meal in silence, the air was taught with suppression. Each had a word or two to say but wasn’t going to say it. When Doctor Lecter was done, he reached for her and led her back towards his bedroom. It was obvious why she was there.

Clarice was willing to follow him and stay with him in his bedroom, but something on entering his room made her freeze in the doorway. A lambskin rug sat in the middle of his floor. He must have noticed her stare, because he went over to it and bent to touch it.

“Do you like it? I bought it yesterday.”

“Get rid of it,” she choked.

“What?”

“I can’t...” she turned away, horrified at the rug.

“What is it, Clarice?” Hannibal really did seem worried.

“Get rid of it,” she shrieked, bordering on hysteric.

“All right, all right,” he finally relented, grabbing the fine lambskin rug and dragging it out to the closet in the foyer. “Now,” he said when he came back in the room, “would you mind telling me why you behaved the way you did?”

“Never mind that,” she mumbled, reaching for the buttons on her blouse and quickly disrobing. “Just forget about it.”

Part Twenty Six-

Afterwards Clarice lay indolently on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Hannibal was asleep beside her, half in and half out of his blanket, foot stretching out towards the floor. She batted away tears of humiliation, knowing that they were in vain, and flipped over onto her stomach, head turned on the pillow to stare at Lecter’s sleeping face.

His hair was out of its usual perfect styling and strands of it lay tumbling across his patrician forehead.

He was handsome in an official and doctor sort of way, and she wished that she loved him, or that he loved her; it didn’t matter anymore, but she was so tired. So tired of all the energy it took to hate him and to hate herself. It was a lost cause to try and beat sense into this man; he was without sensibility.

One lone tear, the last, she vowed, that she would ever cry for this situation and this man, slipped silently down her cheek. She wished feebly for someone to hold her, to take the burden of this chill off of her shoulders, but the only person who could have warmed her was asleep next to her. She spent the rest of the minute lapsed between sanity and insanity, fighting to keep out of madness with all of her willpower.

Lecter slapped his arm down around her shoulder, an instant reflex of sleep to hold her closer, and she bit her lower lip, hoping he would not awake. Clarice had no desire to talk with him or to stay in the house any longer then was necessary.

A door slammed down below in the house, and Clarice stiffened. Hannibal grunted but did not wake up, nuzzling his face against her neck. Clarice disengaged from him slowly, lifting an arm, a tangle of fingers from hair, and finally moving some of his weight away from her to where she could sit up. Drawing the sheet with her, she glanced dazedly around the room with building panic. Who was downstairs?

A female humming could be heard, and though Clarice was relieved that it wasn’t Jon, she skipped reprieve completely and became terrified that it was Elise. Hell was going to erupt if Elise came upstairs and found Clarice naked next to her fiancee. She shook Lecter hard, and he came awake slowly with a grunt.

“What is it, Clarice?”

“Someone is HOME,” she snapped, fear flashing in her eyes.

His eyes widened and Clarice felt a degree of satisfaction in lieu of this. He jumped instantly out of bed and Clarice threw him his pants from her side of the bed. He in turn got her panties and blouse and hastily flung them at her, muttering to himself and listening to the sound of approaching footsteps. The humming was getting louder, and Clarice identified the tune as ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow.’

“Shit,” Lecter muttered, buttoning his pants and moving on to hers. Clarice frantically headed for the closet and hoped to hide there but his door creaked open. Her eyes shot to the door like a deer in headlights.

A burst of laughter followed. Mischa clutched the door handle and shook her head at them, seeing her brother half naked and Clarice scurrying to the closet.

“Good afternoon,” she said, a bark of laughter escaping. “Just wanted to tell you I’m home...” she cheekily glanced at Clarice who had slumped against the tall frame of Hannibal’s closet. “I’ll just leave you two alone...” Mischa shut the door quietly and went to her room, but the two could hear titters of laughter until she shut her own door.

“I’d better go,” Clarice muttered, slipping her blouse over her shoulders and buttoning it swiftly.

“No, stay.” She glared at him for his command. He saw her anger and softened his expression considerably. “Please? I want you to.” Clarice snorted.

“No, I know what you want, and it isn’t only my company.”

“What is it you think I want,” he asked, sounding oddly curious.

“Isn’t it obvious,” she asked him, hopping on one foot to keep her balance while she put a shoe on. “I’m only here so you can take pleasure in my pain.” She stared at him and Lecter wasn’t sure if she was going to cry or hit him. She did neither. “You didn’t even STOP to consider that I might be innocent, or even that this might be killing me.” She turned her head, refusing to look at him and knowing that she said too much. “I’m leaving,” and she started to the door.

He looked at her back blankly when she opened the door, but startled her by speaking.

“I don’t know what to think.”

She turned to face him, smiling sadly, knowing that he still thought Krendler was honestly telling the truth.

“See now, that’s why I have to go.” She smiled again at him, and knew this was far from over. “In any other place, Doctor Lecter, in any other place.” Without pausing, she opened the door and left him.

Doctor Lecter stared at the door a long while, even after Clarice’s car could be heard peeling away from the house. He was about to move when Mischa came up to his open doorway and gave him the same sad smile that Clarice had given him.

“My poor boy,” she said. “Clarice is really getting to you.”

“Certainly not,” he ruffled instantly, knowing he sounded like an appalled English peer of the realm.

“Yes she has,” Mischa observed with a tone that sounded like wisdom. “You love her and want to know why.” He gawked at her, but was startled to realize there was an aching in the pit of his stomach. “I wish you had more sense about you, Hannibal. Then you’d know to really ask her what happened at let her answer for a change.”

Mischa didn’t let him make an objection, and left him to stare at the empty space at the door again. He flooded with anger at Mischa, knowing that she was horribly misguided and was charmed by Clarice. Krendler had been honest and Lecter knew it had pained him to be.

There was something that had troubled him. When Krendler had left the party, he had escorted a drunken woman into his car. He had figured at the time that he was taking her home and not letting her drive, but something rung untrue. It was worth investigating a little, Hannibal knew, if it would cure these ridiculous doubts he was having.

The year ahead was going to pass slowly, he could feel it already. The turmoil he felt when Clarice was near and the emotions she inflicted were going to be hard to deal with and set aside, but he knew he had to. Laughter ensued when he thought briefly that this was his last big fling before settling down to marriage, for he intended to break it off with Clarice as soon as he and Elise were married. Three months and three weeks until the big day.

He finally broke his stare and moved to put on his shirt.

Part Twenty Seven-

Ardelia left a note among Clarice’s box of belongings- saying in under two lines that she’d be back sometime tomorrow mid day and that Clarice had better tell Ardelia what or who was so important she had to up and leave for it. Clarice smiled as she read the note, remembering fondly of when Ardelia and she used to compare notes on boyfriends. Not anymore.

Reaching for the box, Clarice was mildly surprised she had so much stuff. The box was huge and could probably carry and big screen TV. She wondered how Ardelia had gotten it into her car, or if someone had helped her.

Sorting through, Clarice came across a couple of old tapes that she thought she had lost and made a mental note to listen to them later. A n old Joe Crocker album was recorded on one of them. For now she pushed them aside.

Papers and old case files, notes and observations. Clarice’s entire career was somehow packed neatly in a big box. A wave of sadness followed the observation, so she stopped sorting through the box as a reflex.

“Damn,” she said when the phone at her left starting ringing. “Starling.” Even to her, the tone sounded depressed.

“Clarice.” Closing her eyes, Clarice settled down on the carpet.

“Doctor Lecter.”

“I wanted to see if you were all right.” His tone was awkward. “You had me worried.”

Clarice almost snorted.

“Why?”

“Well, the thing with the rug...and your little outburst earlier.” More anger, even though she had sworn against it.

“Oh. I didn’t realized it affected you, how I reacted.”

She could hear him swear, even over the static of her cell phone.

“I wish you would stop making this so difficult.”

She seethed for a moment, and instantaneously felt the cool of her control underneath her.

“I’m not being difficult. I’d just rather not romanticize extortion.”

“You’re no stranger to it, I understand.” He was strained and wanted to say more, but had no wish for an argument over the phone.

“God damn you.” She angrily flung her hairbrush across the room where it crashed against her wall with a satisfying smack.

“I don’t want to talk about this,” he said stubbornly. “After you left, I kept thinking about that lambskin rug and how you reacted.”

“And?”

“I want to know what it is about you.” He felt repentance saying it; it had come out wrong. “I want to know why you acted the way you did.”

She froze.

“That’s none of your business.”

“Isn’t it?” His tone was ice cold. “All of your worst secrets I know, what else can there be?” He laughed for a moment. “What did you do, fuck a lamb?” He was careless in his anger, and would never have said anything so immature if he weren’t.

“You bastard.” There were tears behind her, bubbling to the surface faster than she could stop them. She choked it out again, “You fucking bastard. How dare you!” Nothing. “You ruin my life and what’s more, you have the nerve to taunt me.” More tears cried bitterly into the phone.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry!? Fuck you, Hannibal Lecter, I never want to see you again.” She was ready to slam the phone down when he said something that made her explode.

“You’re still mine for the duration of a year, Clarice.”

“You want to know what it is,” she shouted into the phone, aware that her neighbors could hear her. “You want to mother fucking know?”

“Yes, yes, I do.” He was calm again.

“I was ten years old, Lecter, and my mother packed me away to a ranch after my dad died. TEN YEARS OLD, and I’m sent to live with a second cousin I don’t know on a ranch in Montana.” She was no longer yelling, but her voice was loud and her accent was pure West Virginia.

“I woke up one night to hear screaming. I thought someone was down there, I really did.”

“The lambs. They were killing the lambs, weren’t they, Clarice?”

“I tried to free them, but it was so cold they wouldn’t move.” She laughed and sobbed at the same time. “So I took one and I ran.”

“And they found you?”

“Yes. I was sent to an Orphanedge.” Her breathing was erratic and her pulse was wild. She hung the phone up without waiting for his answer.

It rang again but she never picked it up.

Part Twenty Eight

Hannibal Lecter set the phone down gently in its cradle, eyes glazed and staring ahead at his wall but not really seeing. His eyes stung suspiciously and he blinked to kill it. Someone coughed, and he turned his eyes to them. Ah. Elise was home, finally. He was so not happy to see her, and after today’s frantic hustle to clothe when Mischa came home earlier than expected...he was not in the right frame of mind to deal with his fiancee at that point.

“Hello. I just got home.” She stayed at the entrance to the room, not moving any further.

“Yes.” A thought crossed his mind; was she always this imperceptive?

“Mom took me shopping for the honeymoon...” she did come into the room now, and held up several boutique lavender bags for his inspection. “...and we double checked my wedding gown and preordered the table linens from France.”

“Ah,” he answered, only half listening. Elise appeared not to notice.

“Do you want to see the place settings I bought?”

Trying not to wince, he nodded. Parties and weddings were not his forte. True, he had exquisite taste (“About Town,” a society newspaper, had raved about his clothing and parties,) but he’d rather leave the frill and pomp to Mischa or Elise.

“Goodie,” Elise chirped, motioning for him to scoot over on the bed to make room for her and the place settings. “Now, on a related subject, I was wondering if we were going to use the antique Australian family crystal for the reception?”

“Whatever pleases you, dear.”

She nodded, adding the permission to her mental wedding check list. Elise was a sitting duck for any party though she had little sense of them herself. After nearly clashing the silverware and dishes at the last gala, Elise had given up the major planning and coordinating decisions to Mischa and the hired help.

“Okay.” She reached in her bag and handed several embroidered satin place settings to him. “Mom picked them out. What do you think?”

“I think they’re lovely, dear.” Not true. He thought they were gauche and horribly off-tone for a wedding, but spared vocalizing that to save Elise’s feelings.

“I can take them back if you absolutely hate them,” she chattered.

“No, I don’t hate them. They’re quite beautiful.” She smiled gratefully at him and he wondered not for the first time why he was getting married in the first place.

Stop it, he chided himself. Starling is just getting you shaken up, is all. She was guiding him around my his dick and it had to end, but Hannibal wasn’t sure if he entirely hated it after all. There was something charming about Clari- STOP IT, his mind shouted again. Are you forgetting what Krendler told you? Maybe he was lying, the more forgiving part of him suggested. Not likely.

He pushed aside all thought of Clarice Starling and her virtues when Elise reached for the buckle on his trousers.

****

Clarice didn’t cry when she hung up the phone, and she would have prided herself on her mastery had the situation been different. She had spilled her most painful memory to a man she half loathed, and now she knew she’d never be able to look him in the eye again. Never.

Gale left a message on her answering machine Clarice had hung up with Lecter, telling her that she could pursue some legal action if she wanted to. This should have sparked hope within Clarice but it did not.

She fumbled off of the floor where she had been sitting for the last half an hour, staring at the wall with blank and bleak eyes. Clarice only moved from the floor to the bed, but she still felt better that she had moved at all. Clarice wished Ardelia was there; she needed someone to talk to but wouldn’t call Gale because she’d have to explain why she wasn’t going to sue Lecter...too much stress. She’d had enough of that.

Mischa. She was the only person Clarice could turn to...certainly not Jack, though Clarice was sure he would oblige with any comfort she would need. Jack had improved greatly on the friendship scale in the last few months...she had thought he was impersonal but friendly and now knew much differently. Goddamn, maybe she should call Crawford. No, Mischa would suffice better.

As soon as Mischa picked up her phone, Clarice paled and felt the tears rise.

“I can’t do this,” she said, and her voice cracked.

“Clarice?”

“Yeah. It’s me.” She sniffed, laying back onto her pillow and putting an arm over her eyes to shield herself from the light. “I’m sorry for bothering you...” Clarice could hear the other woman shift.

“Not at all, what’s wrong?”

Clarice had longed for a close friend, an older woman...a confident...anything to take the heat off of her for just a short while. Ardelia was that, but she wasn’t available when Clarice needed her most of the time, and Crawford...he was Crawford. Mischa seemed to be fulfilling the role of older and wiser woman nicely.

“I can’t do this,” Clarice said again. She knew she was making little sense but couldn’t give up enough energy to care.

“Do what, sweetheart?”

“I can’t live as his whore, I can’t do it! I thought I could, to save my job...but now I’m not sure.” Her voice started to break with tears so she stopped speaking.

“You don’t have to,” Mischa told her placating. “If all else fails, go to Elise and tell her, or I-”

“No!” She sobbed again.

“All right. We’ll think of something.”

Clarice nodded to herself.

“I know. I’ve got to go,” she said, quickly pulling herself up off of the bed. “I have to do something...anything. I have to move, or I’ll go crazy.”

“Okay. Hey, if you want, come over here. I could use the company.”

“I’d better not,” Clarice said, slowly, regretfully.

“You’re probably right. Elise is here.” Clarice’s eyes squeezed shut painfully.

“Okay.” Mischa could barley hear her. Clarice hung up the phone.

Part Twenty Nine-

THIS IS IN REMEMBRANCE OF ALL THOSE WHO DIED AT THE WORLD TRADE CENTER, IN THE PLANES, AND AT THE PENTAGON. MY HEART IS WITH YOU, AND YOUR FAMILIES. GOD BLESS.

Clarice gladly hands over the bag of cassette tapes over to Gale. Gale had earlier agreed to go through them, knowing somewhere in there, a few gems were hidden. Still, it meant a lot of time to go through each tape, and Clarice didn’t want the business of going through them.

“I’ll get whatever of these back to you I don’t want, labeled with whatever the heck they are, okay?” She was crouched between sitting in her car and standing outside.

“Sure. Keep whatever you like. I don’t think there’s much in there I want anymore.” Leaning over, Clarice embraces her friend.

“You keep yourself busy, Clarice.” Gale gave her a stern look. “I’ll call you later and we’ll meet, okay? Give Ardelia a hello for me, will you?”

Clarice nodded and Gale started her engine. She watched Gale away and annoyed herself by lingering even after Gale was long gone. Flicking away the irritation, Clarice ambled back inside the house to check her answering machine.

“Hi, its Crawford. I’ve got something you might want to see, Clarice. Give me a call.”

He was the only one who called her. Clarice tried his office line but no one answered and his cell phone was disconnected. Clarice wondered if it was something on Lecter; Gale had told Jack about the rest of the deal and Jack had sworn to prove her innocent. He asked her yesterday if she had slept with him yet and Clarice had lied to save Jack’s indignation.

Chewing her lip, Clarice dialed Crawford’s number with stiff fingers.

“’Ello? Crawford.”

“Hi, Jack.” Her voice did not crack as she feared it was and she drew uncountable amounts of courage from this small step.

“Clarice. Good, listen, I have something you may want to know about...”

“Okay. Should I come down to the office, or do you want me here?” Clarice grabbed her daily planner and double checked that nothing was on the agenda for the day.

“I’ll come there, I’m off in a few minutes anyway.” There was a pause, the kind that Crawford was famous for. Clarice had long been used to his breaks in conversation and patiently gazed at the planner, waiting for his next words. “Listen, Clarice, what I’m going to show you might help with this thing with Lecter.”

Her ears perked, though with some reservations. There was little hope left in her body; she was drained, more tired then she ever thought she could be. It was amazing what odium could do to people.

“Yes, Jack?”

“I’ll just let you have everything when I get there, Starling.” He had turned into superior Crawford again, another something Clarice was used to.

“Thanks, Jack.”

He hung up the phone, and Clarice followed.

Crawford was at her door in what seemed like seconds. She had barely had time to boil water for tea before there were three persistent knocks on her front door. Wiping her sweaty hands on the thighs of her jeans, she let Jack into her living foyer.

He ducked inside and handed Clarice a paper grocery bag, rumpled and folded over twice to shield its contents. She felt the contents with her fingers and decided it was a file of some sort. A file? On Lecter?

“This may or may not help you, Clarice, but I sure as hell hope to God it does.”

Clarice could see Crawford meant it, and fiercely. His eyes strayed over her face and he nodded to himself, patting her arm and pulling her into an awkward hug.

“Thank you again, Jack,” she said, muffled by his coat and shoulder. He was at least seven inches taller then she.

“You’re welcome.” They parted and he playfully brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Cheer up some. We’ll figure something out.”

“Yes.” No.

And then he left, hugging her again and reigning in a leash on his composure. Was everyone doing that, or was Clarice just becoming hysterical? She locked the door behind him and moved to the couch, unwrapping the bag.

It was a file, but not on Hannibal Lecter. No, it was on Jonathon Phillips now called Lecter. She opened it and found on the first page a picture that nearly fluttered to the floor in a sudden full body jump of shock. Jon and Elise. Jon and Elise was the next picture. Jon and Elise at a beach house. Jon and Elise on the beach. Jon and Elise fucking. What was this??

Clarice couldn’t say she was all surprised, though there was some shock. So Elise and Jon had been lovers, or are lovers, it didn’t matter. It had to have some ground to what she was dealing with; Jon’s knee jerk reaction and Elise’s ‘confession’ of what Jon’s motives might be was too innocent. There was something up. Why hadn’t she seen it before, damn it?

Clarice flipped through what was left of the contents. Not much more; a few pictures of Elise and Jon sunbathing, foggy pictures of them inside the beach house. Clarice flipped to the back page where the explanations of the pictures were.

Jon was suspected of fraud, and had two Agents survialing him. Okay, when was this? She checked the date of the photos, and saw it was just two days ago. Check, they WERE lovers, right now. Elise wasn’t at her mom’s house, or if she was, Jon was with her. These were things she needed to worry about later. For now she needed to call Doctor Lecter.

Part Thirty-

He answered the phone after the second ring, and Clarice was really thrown off by the two contrasting feelings she had thinking of what and how she was going to tell him. One was of vengeance; to make him feel pain like she had felt, and the other was pity for him and his ruined upcoming marriage. Or maybe not ruined. Just strained. She hoped it was ruined.

“Yes,” he asked gruffly, as if interrupted during the middle of a jog.

“I think you should come over.”

“Clarice.” He did nothing to hide his pleased surprised. Clarice had the nagging feeling he didn’t hate her as much as he let on and she tried to harden her heart against him again.

“I do really think you should come over, Doctor Lecter.”

“Do you, now?” Amusement in his tone that Clarice was sorry to know would be washed out shortly.

“Yes. Unless you want me to tell you over the phone...”

“Well, now, that depends on what it is, doesn’t it?” She heard him shuffle against something, possibly leaning against the wall next to the phone. She paused, not knowing what to say.

“Just come.”

“Okie Dokie.” This was the second time he had said it, and it still made Clarice want to laugh, despite the dread she was feeling.

*****

He pulled up in what seemed like a minute or so later. Clarice looked out of her peep hole a long moment before letting him in, contemplating in what spare moments of time she had how to tell him. Fuck it, she decided, she was going to do this like he did it to her; painfully.

He stared at her for a full ten seconds when she opened the door, not commenting on her side of the duplex, not asking to sit down, but just staring. Clarice backed away and let him in slowly.

“You remember what you said to me,” Clarice asked him, fingering the sides of the manila file, “when I protested our arrangement?”

“No.” He eyed her, unsure of her confrontational stare.

“You said ‘I’m sure Elise has her lovers,’ or something to that effect.” Doctor Lecter shrugged, getting the gist of her speech.

“I was bluffing.” She shook her head, finally letting her guilty smile show.

“You were more right then you knew.” And she handed him the file.

Doctor Lecter looked at her again, holding on to his end of the file while she held hers, smiling faintly.

“Now what could this be?” His tone was strained; the novelty of her conversation and wording about Elise was frightening him. She did an inner dance of victory for just a moment. She let it go then, and he supported it with his other hand, flipping open the cover. He looked at the picture, Jon and Elise, sitting innocently, and threw it back in her hands. “I don’t know what you’re trying to pull over on me, Clarice, but you’ve got to come up with something better than that.” He backed away.

“You have to keep reading, Doctor Lecter.”

“This is complete bullshit.”

“Afraid?”

“No.”

“Then take it, and keep looking.”

She thought he might refuse, but in the end he walked back and yanked it from her hands. He reopened the file and starting flipping the pictures roughly until he came to the photo that had made Clarice herself choke up. Jon and Elise, Elise spread eagle on the white sand of whatever beach they were staying at, Jon kneeling naked between her thighs. There was no mistaking this picture.

He flipped to one more photo before letting it fall to the floor. He sank to his knees after it, batting away stinging tears. It was then Clarice felt another one of those damn pangs of guilt, of longing to comfort this stupid male who had caused her so much pain. Of wanting to be loved back...

STOP IT!

“What?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think I was speaking out loud.” He nodded, still dazed, and she watched one silent tear fall to the floor.

As quickly as it fell, he was fine. In fact, he was better than fine, he was angry. And at her.

“So, what’s this? Tracking Elise just so you could duck out of our agreement? I should have known. Whores sink to dirty levels to get what they want.”

She didn’t care if he was upset; that stung worse than anything he could have said or done. Kneeling on his level, she squared her jaw and gave him a right hook that would have knocked her father over.

“Will you just shut up! You don’t know what you’re doing to me!” She fell into sobs herself.

“Don’t I? Isn’t it what you just did to me? Trailed my fiancee just to get some payback.”

“I didn’t tail her,” she screamed at him, thumping his chest. “Your lovely brother is going to be arrested.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“He’s been hoarding money into a private account for the last five years. He’s fucking your fiancee...he’s suspect of fraud...I’d say there is a pretty fucking decent chance of it.”

“So you didn’t organize this?”

“No!!”

“Then come here.”

He made a lunge for her and they landed in an ungraceful heap, with him on top. She glared up at him, hitting at his arms with force she did not feel.

“I’m tired of pretending you are just some agreement, Clarice. Whore or no,” he told her, smiling down at her glare through sad eyes, “you somehow hooked yourself under my skin. The deal is off.”

Part Thirty One

Clarice gaped at him, feeling like a fish, and tried to read in his eyes any measure of fraud or trickery. There was none, only shining lust and impasse. A catch-22. Clarice choked on a shaky sob and laid still underneath of him, perplexity and all of its appurtenances grabbing hold of her like a willful fist.

“I *hate* you,” she somehow managed to tell him through what seemed like a miasma of uncertainty. Pandora’s box had been opened, and now she was free to feel the hate she had tried to repress. How dare he?

“I rather thought we’d dispelled that,” he said, looking hurt, much to her outraged amusement.

“Never,” she said firmly, feeling safer now that she’d regained her tongue. “Not after all you’ve put me through.”

“After all I’ve..? You must be jesting.” He sat up immediately from her and backed away like she was a dangerous entity. Clarice was certainly beginning to feel that way. “You’ve gone crazy. I can’t take this.” Doctor Lecter climbed up off of the floor, with a shaken grace that contradicted his years.

Clarice began to laugh. It was not a humorous laughter, but rather one of muffled hysteria. She caught his unhappy expression and laughed harder, hands in front of her face, body rocking in a little ball. She wasn’t sure, but there might have been tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Oh, how you *push* me. Do you do it on purpose? You’re good at it,” she remarked innocuously.

“My dear god.” His mouth was parched and he felt frail. “How did I let this happen?”

“You-” she tried to say something but it was lost in an onslaught of laughter. She started to screech then, breath coming in labored hitches.

“Damn it.”

“Hahaha,” she answered, the tone of it becoming a mantra. “Hahaha.”

Doctor Lecter let out a very unLecter-ish ‘eep’ sort of noise and in some way managed to crawl back onto his knees without looking foolish. He cautiously approached her on the carpet, eyes down, as he would approach a territorial gorilla. She made no sign she cared or even registered his advance and let out another screech.

“Clarice? Can you hear me? It’s Hannibal.” Clarice gave a convoluted sound that might have been ‘Haible,’ and so he took it as means to continue. “Clarice? What’s wrong? Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

This time, it appeared that she gave more of an effort. She moved a hand away from her face and tried to steady her laughter. After several tries, she gave him a word. “You.”

“Me.” He looked to be doing some very quick thinking. “I’m sorry, Clarice.” She gave an involuntary bark of laughter but controlled it quickly. “I’m so sorry, Clarice. Tell me,” he asked her, placing a hand over the higher section of her abdomen. “What does it feel like here?”

“Pain. Tight.” She relaxed against him as much as she could.

“Would you like it to stop?” She nodded. “How can it stop, Clarice?”

“You.”

“I can stop it? Tell me how to stop it, Clarice. I want to stop it for you, honey.” He didn’t mean to call her ‘honey’. It slipped out.

“Leave me be.”

“The deal is off, Clarice. Its off.” He tried to sound reassuring but failed miserably. He was too far into the depth of her despair to be able to comfort.

“IT’S TOO LATE,” she yelled, suddenly and irrepressibly violent. “You’re too fucking late.” Her fit of laughter had passed, and now she established that she could once again speak clearly. But speech was not needed. She was flinging herself at him, any part of him, that she could hurt or maim.

He grabbed at her wrists and twisted her so she was between his legs, stifling her torso and her head so she couldn’t gnash or flail any longer. His strength surprised her, but then, he always surprised her.

“I’m so sorry, Clarice.” And he meant it.

She slumped in his arms, stopping the futile struggle before it even really seemed to peak. Her red-brown hair hung limply in her eyes. She couldn’t hear over the pounding of the blood in her ears, couldn’t speak through the peculiar weight of her tongue. Clarice had finally and totally flipped out. Now Lecter had to pray that he could manage to foist all the pieces together properly.

And then she began to sob. They were true sobs now, and despite the fact that this wasn’t the first time she had cried within the last few weeks, it felt as if a brand new occurrence was happening. As if everything before had been myth and everything to come after was merely ash. Her world was crashing down on her head in slick, smooth waves and there was nothing she could do about it except sob in the arms of this man. He caused it. He made her crazy. She hated him. She loved him with a ferocity that scared her.

He was smoothing that dead hair away from her face, wiping her cheeks and eyes of the tears the blurred her vision and demolished her strength. Damn him for being there when she needed him. Damn him for making her love him so impossibly that all she wanted to do was mar his flesh with the evidence of her. Damn him. Damn him.

“Let me hold you, Clarice. And when this is all over, I’ll take you up to my room and we can forget about who we are and what we’ve done.”

“That’s hopeless.”

“Nothing’s hopeless, Clarice. You’ve broken. Let me put you back together.”

She gave a mighty heave, the last of her fight, and sank back into his embrace when he didn’t even flinch.

“Little one, let me love you. I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t even hear him.

Chapter Thirty Two

Gale adjusts the volume on the stereo, reaching afterwards to the thick ream of papers on her desk. Janis Joplin is wailing on the recorded tape Clarice gave her in the bag of them, and underneath Gale’s large oak desk, her heeled feet are tapping.

There is a splitting sound, and Gale jerks her head up, unsure of where it came from.

There is the sound of a throat clearing.

“Starling,” a man says, sounding a good distance away from the recorder. It’s Krendler, Gale realizes; the grotesque whine of his voice is easily recognizable.

“Can I help you with anything, Mr. Krendler?” Gale hears footsteps walking toward where the recorder is set.

“Jesus, that’s a lot of paperwork! What are you, writing a book or catching a crook?”

Clarice doesn’t answer Krendler, and there is a notable silence.

“What I came here to impress upon you Starling is I better see cooperation.” Gale leans forward in the darkness of her office, hand poised by her face in anticipation. <Please,> she begs whatever God there might be, <let him say something that will help Clarice!> “There are no little fiefdoms here. I want to be copied on every 3-0-2, you understand?”

Clarice makes an ‘mmhmm’ noise, and though her voice is cooperative, Gale detects a minute amount of resentment behind it.

“You work with me, then your so-called career here might improve.” Gale twitches involuntarily in her seat, feels her heart pound and knows somehow that she wasn’t walking away from this desk without salvation for Clarice. “If you don’t, then all I have to do is draw a line through your name rather than under it, and its over.”

“Paul, what is it with you? I told you to go home to your wife. That was wrong?” The air around Gale felt like static. She stood up from her desk with an expression of pure victory.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Starling. That was a long time ago.” Gale pulls her lips into an ever wider smile in silent conquest. “Why would I hold that against you, hmm?” Krendler’s tone suggests that maybe he does. “And besides, this town is full of corn-pone country pussy. That said, I wouldn’t mind having a go with you right now, if you want to reconsider.”

Gale lets out a whoop of joy and waits anxiously for Clarice’s answer. This might blow it, if she says something that can be taken for a double standard. But inside, Gale knows they have it made.

“In the gym, any time. No pads.”

The tape runs on for a few more seconds before it finally switches off. Gale immediately hits the eject button.

****

Clarice thought she was done crying. Clarice thought that tears--how many had she shed in the last few months?-- we’re not for her any longer. But sitting on the floor of her bedroom, the phone clutched so closely to her head she thought her ear might start bleeding...Clarice was crying.

“Honey?” Gale’s voice wasn’t concerned. In fact, her tendency was positively dripping with happiness.

“I’m all right,” Clarice choked, nose sniffling. “For the first time, I’m all right.”

Gale’s sigh could be heard through the phone wires, even though she tried to suppress it.

“Now you’re going to go over to that bastards house, and you’re going to shove your booted heel up his ass. Oh, wait. First you’re going to pick up the tape, and then you’re going to give him a good booted-butt fucking...”

Clarice giggled. She felt giddy for the first time in months.

“I’ll be right over, Gale.” She hung up the phone without waiting for a response.

****

Jon flung the beige trench over the back of the couch, carelessly letting the nice fabric rumple.

“Hello,” he called, brushing his fingers through his thick hair. “Anyone home?”

“You’re back.”

He jumped, turning in the shaded light of the living room. Over in a corner, Hannibal started back at him.

“Hello. I didn’t think anyone was home.” He laughed briefly.

“Yes well, you seem to assume I’m not aware most of the time, anyway. It’s to be expected,” Lecter said, sotto voice.

Jon laughed again, nervously. “What’re you on about, Han?”

Lecter blinked, coming forward from his corner. In his hand was a manila file.

“This.”

He threw the folder at Jon, who stared.