A/N: I have seen the movie and read the book and both endings are just plain wrong. Sorry, Mr. Harris. There were aspects of the book and of the movie I liked so you will see them mentioned here. This piece basically picks up right after Clarice and Hannibal have dinner with Kendall. Of course, there will be spoilers, so read at your own risk. Also, if I get Clarice's accent wrong, sorry, I'm from Virginia and I know what our accents sound like.
Disclaimer: I do not own much except my own creativity (even then I think its borrowed).

Clarice gasped as Hannibal slammed her into the refrigerator and the silver candle stick holder fell from her grasp to the floor. Hannibal held her there, feeling her pulse quicken. He looked into her eyes. They were clear and free of the drug he had given her for her injured shoulder.

"I came half way around the world to watch you run, Clarice. Let me run, huh?"

Her brown eyes held no hint of fear, only sadness. Hannibal knew what she was going to do before she did it. Clarice pushed off the refrigerator, lunging at him again, desperation making her stronger, her marriage to the Bureau still controlling her life. Hannibal shoved Clarice back onto the refrigerator, pinning her arms. He quickly opened the door and shut it on Clarice's lovely mane of hair before breaking off the handle, pinioning her there, like a butterfly stuck in some collector's box. He seemed almost to be assessing her before he spoke.

"Tell me, Clarice, would you ever say to me 'stop, if you loved me, you'd stop'?"

Clarice didn't hesitate, even with the cannibalistic doctor less than two inches from her face, in replying. "Not in a thousand years."

Hannibal's expression was a mixture of slight shock and mockery. "Not in a thousand years," he repeated, almost to himself. He leaned forward, closing the distance between them, Clarice watching him closely. He looked as if he wanted to bite her, to taste her, before the police came, the Bureau came, and separated them once more. Her eyes widened slightly as she saw the look on his face, but still, she displayed no sign of fear. He leaned into her and said, "That's my girl."

"Ever since I have met you, Clarice, you have intrigued me. I knew why you were sent to me and by whom, or so I thought. As it turns out, you seem to be the one person in my entire life who has dealt with me and come through pure and unaltered."

A slight frown crossed Clarice's face. "After everythin' you've done, you believe that I am still 'pure'?" she asked, the situation making her accent strengthen.

Hannibal's eyes widened. "Well, yes. You show no signs of-"

She interrupted him, something she knew he hated because it was rude, and thus, against his rules. "Only because I hide it! You've never seen me after…after...work…" Her lips had almost betrayed her, stumbling over the word "work" and wanting to say "you disappeared."

She saw the question in his eyes, remembered the lambs and realized that this night would be her slaughter, her ultimate undoing. He leaned into her again and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. Surprised, she returned the kiss. He pulled away upon hearing the click of handcuffs, knowing then that their shared fate was sealed. He watched emotions dance across her face. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

"Clarice." Her name was a reprimand, one full of disappointment.

"Only your own necessity to belong to this world and its rules has kept you, time and time again, from my grasp and from freeing yourself," he leaned forward, whispering the words against her neck. "Where is the key?" he spoke into her neck, feeling the pulse in her carotid artery. Clarice didn't know which key he meant: the one that would release him... or the one that would release her.

"Please, Clarice, do not make me do this. Where is the key?" Hannibal asked, his teeth snapping together close, so very close, to her skin.

She was silent for a moment. "I'm truly sorry, Hannibal. I just can't do it. I can't leave the Bureau, even for you." He pulled back to watch her face. She smiled crookedly, knowing that whatever happened next, it would hurt. "The divorce papers could never be signed."

"Did you know Clarice that I watched over you, even when you were sleeping? That I was worried about you? And have you noticed that I have saved your life?" He smiled self-mockingly. "Wouldn't you say that by quid pro quo standards, you owe me my life in return?"

She was silent again.

"If you will permit me, I will answer the question for you. Remember that you alone are the answer to the riddle, the honey in the lion."

Clarice remembered his letter, the one the Bureau analysts had torn apart, looking for clues to his location. It had been her favorite. Sirens could be heard, breaking apart her reverie. "Time is of the essence, Clarice. Choose, please."

Clarice steeled herself and looked at the man before her. "Whatever you're goin' to do, do it quickly."

Hannibal smiled slightly and picked up the meat cleaver on the table behind him. He grabbed her hand and set it onto the chopping block to her left. He raised the cleaver above his head. "This is really going to hurt," he warned. He swung the cleaver and Clarice gasped, expecting it to cut right through her wrist. Instead, Hannibal had stabbed it into the cutting board. "Ah, let's find another way, shall we?" He turned quickly, hitting Clarice. She never even saw him swing. The world swam for a second, colors bleeding into each other before she lost consciousness. Hannibal smiled at his sleeping beauty before releasing her hair from its constraint. He picked her up gently and made his escape as sirens blared throughout the night.

A/N: If you're wondering about some of my phrases like the part about the riddle, read the novel and you'll get it.

So that could be the end. I think if the mood strikes, I might actually drag this out a bit. We'll just have to wait and seeeee… Oh, and if the mood so strikes with you, please review. If enough people ask for it, I may write more. Thanks!