Beaten

Usual Disclaimer applies. (I realise that certain events in this fic are somewhat unbelievable to some but that's what makes it a fic, right? Happy reading!)

Starling felt numb. Her insides were icy with dread and..something she couldn't identify. The phone receiver still rested limply in her hand, lying on her bed. The incessant dial tones buzz stung her raw mind, sounding surreally loud in the deadly quiet of the room. He had been caught.

Only 7 years of freedom and they had him again. From the joyous caw in Crawfords voice minutes earlier as he told her she could tell that the whole bureau was euphoric about their trophy. Crawford had assured that the 'slick bastard ' wouldn't get past them this time, his death was already being planned. The death of the only man, person for that matter, ever to understand her, ever to take the time to empathise with her, was being scheduled like some kind of social occasion. Indeed, she had been told many of the agents were purposefully clearing their diaries to watch. Starling found herself feeling slightly sick and her throat and chest were painfully constricted with what she could only identify as grief.

"No" She thought, the anger in her own mind was slightly frightening. "I won't let them, I owe him that much". But as soon as her face set into a defiant pout it crumpled again.

"What the hell can I do to help him now?" The thought was full of resentment to her lowly position in the job she tried so hard at and the helplessness of how little she could do to help him. These new emotions conjoined and multiplied with the anger and grief of before creating a quite terrifying wall of pure emotion that pushed her to get up and do whatever the hell she could.

Grabbing her car keys and bag, she picked up her .45 then put it down again, she didn't want to go that far unless she really had to. Instead she slipped the heavy leather sap Ardelia kept hidden in the front room in case of intruders. With that done she braced herself and slammed out to her car, a continuous surge of exhilaration washing out the lumps of fear in her system.

Arriving at the place Crawford had let slip to be Lecters holding location until they could take him to his final destination, she was on foot having left her Mustang on the adjacent block. It was nearing 3am, over 8 hours since Dr. Lecter was apprehended, and the hugely formidable bulk of the main bank in Baltimore was completely black except for the top floor where all the windows were harshly illuminated.

After a hectic flight from Venice, where Lecter had been captured and the initial fight he had given resulting in the injury of 7 law enforcement officers would have been unusually taxing for all involved, but it was only him who was not being allowed to rest even if it was going to be one of his last rests before.

Starling broke off, a bubble of painful emotion blossomed in her throat and sank to encase her chest and lungs. Shaking the unpleasant thought away she shook her self mentally and entered the building quietly. She was initially surprised at the lack of guards, the reincarnation of such an infamous killer surely would require top security, especially with this ones habit of escaping such situations with unnatural ease. Ascending two more flights and finding the same situation a feeling of cautious curiosity overcame her. Finally reaching the acquired floor, she carefully peered into the corridor behind the thick steel door.

This floor was the vaults, she could see why they had chosen to keep him here, the cages here were some of the safest in the whole of America, well, she considered, hard to get out of but how hard to get into them? Taking a deep breath she entered the corridor beyond but a she pushed open the door a zinging alarm burst into life. She jumped violently and the sound and nearly left again but the sight of the 2 navy dressed officers running at her stilled her, the anger wall bubbled up again fuelling her next actions.

With a flash and a crack followed by a thunk, two limp figures lay at her feet, her hands trembling with the thrill of it, she shifted their slack forms so they propped the door open. She briefly considered putting ones hand on the others backside as she had seen in The Simpsons only this morning but squashed the childish notion to attend more pressing things. Another flip of the sap killed the alarm half way through a wailing cry so it lost its pitch then fizzled out in a low growl. Another deep breath and she was on her way again, a shiver as she finally saw the vault she presumed Dr Lecter was locked in.

Searching the limp bodies she came upon 4 scan cards, she slid each one through the appropriate slot and the heavy door hissed open. It was then that she realised why there was a considerable lack of security, they had no worry of him escaping in his current state as she could clearly see why and quite frankly she felt quite sick again.