Chapter 1
Reunion
This was by far the worst thing Clarice could have done in her attempt to forget him. But it wasn't as if she'd intentionally gone looking for such a website. She'd simply been reading through a forum when she'd come across a comment from someone mentioning the numerous sites dedicated to sightings of the good doctor. She couldn't help herself; she had to see for herself what these seemingly insane people were up to.
Many nights before, she'd found a site that looked promising. It was titled 'Hannibal's haunts'. It was a cheesy name but it looked incredibly professional and soon she was looking through an enormous archive of photos that people had submitted of the doctor. Even through a photograph his deep eyes penetrated her mind and she could hear his voice in her head.
"Tell me Clarice, would you ever say to me 'Stop. If you loved me, you'd stop?'"
She'd replied defiantly "Not in a thousand years" which was a lie. But now she thought about it she realised that had she replied in any other way she might have found herself dead in that fateful kitchen. Sometimes she still found herself awake at night remembering the feeling of the kiss he'd placed on her lips. Her heart, then and now, seemed to be making a desperate attempt to jump out of her chest. She closed off the thought with great effort, before switching off the computer walking upstairs to her bedroom and falling into bed fully clothed.
Clarice's week had been exhausting. No scratch that, she thought as she was beginning to drift off, the last three months since the fateful event at the lake house had been exhausting. After that thought Clarice drifted off into a light sleep.
But down on the first floor of Clarice's small townhouse a shadow flickered across the backdoor entrance, through the kitchen and up to the little computer desk which sat next to a bookshelf in the corner of the open living room. Dr. Lecter pushed the on button and the computer responded with a low hum. He'd watched Clarice for many nights at the computer, casing out the loudness of the machine to evaluate whether she would not be awoken whilst he further investigated the strange site dedicated to him that he'd seen over her shoulder.
Dr. Lecter entered the internet browser and clicked on the history tab. To be honest he was mildly surprised with the lack of security Clarice took being an F.B.I. agent. She hadn't cleared her Internet history in the last six months. He'd have very much liked to investigate her other Internet haunts but instead clicked on the site 'Hannibal's haunts'. He always found it odd when looking at pictures others had taken of him. Many had been taken in Italy, London, and Paris and even during a recent visit he'd paid to the University library in Vilnius. It was the first time he'd set foot in his birth country of Lithuania in more than thirty years.
Dr. Lecter went to the about page in search of some information on the creator of the website but was met with a sorry note from the creators that in the case 'Hannibal the cannibal' didn't like what they were doing, they preferred to remain anonymous. There was, however an address in which contributors (all anonymous) could send in photos. It was a post office box in Washington, easy to monitor if he wanted to.
The computer started to groan as if protesting at the lateness of the hour. Dr. Lecter turned off the computer, scribbled something on a piece of paper and weighed it down with a bottle of perfume on the kitchen bench top. He then slipped out of the house and into the night.
And just in time too because not two minutes later Clarice walked down the stairs, her Glock 23 held tightly in her hands and her footsteps muffled by hallway carpet. She sworn she'd heard someone downstairs. She checked all the locks and windows. Everything was untouched, if someone had broken in they would have had to put excessive force in and Clarice would have heard them. Clarice calmed slightly when she could find no evidence of intruders so, with a film of sweat clinging to her forehead, she headed for the kitchen to grab a glass of water. She opened the refrigerator door but stopped in her tracks. The light from inside the refrigerator had illuminated a shadowy patch on the kitchen bench top and she felt incredibly stupid for not having spotted it before. She moved her hand cautiously towards the bottle of perfume which reflected yellow patches of light onto the bench top when the light from the refrigerator reached it. She paused momentarily to watch the light dance before grabbing the bottle and opening the lid. She placed the bottle at elbow height and took a delicate sniff. It was the exact same perfume Dr. Lecter had composed as a hand cream to scent the letter she'd received all those months before. It had of course been a clue to his whereabouts (which had at the time had been Florence, Italy) and she'd handed up the letter to be fingerprinted but she'd always remembered that scent. She was actually quite glad to have a bottle of it now. But what Clarice was most interested in was the note that accompanied the bottle. She opened the note and began to read...
My dearest Clarice,
I hope you feel as well as you look. I had to come back to check whether or not the F.B.I. was giving their star agent a hard time over yet another failed attempt at capturing me. I hope it doesn't bother you much Clarice that whilst you have to sit there in those cold grey capitalist buildings by day and grovel to you unappreciative masters I have been relaxing at my own leisure in the superb home I have recently acquired. It is small but still grand. The grounds are quite large, with many walking trails where you won't encounter the blonde journalist who interrupted your jog this morning.
Now you could hand this up to your masters and continue with some bootlicking (which may I add you might need to increase when they read the contents of this letter) or you could keep it locked away safe and hidden and dress for dinner and a show tomorrow evening at 6,
Ta ta, Hannibal Lecter M.D.
P.S.
I took the liberty of purchasing another bottle of the perfume for you. I do hope you wear it as I can only begin to imagine how it compliments that already beautiful smell of your skin,
H.
Clarice put down the letter, her hands shaking but she was not sure whether it was fear, repulsion or something that she tried to put out of her mind but failed miserably; anticipation. But this only lasted a second before anger flared up. The nerve of him to enter her home while she was there (she'd registered with shock that she'd accepted the fact that he'd enter her house, it was what he did) and he'd watched her while she'd ran this morning. This was getting out of hand, after all that had happened Dr. Lecter still watched her… and she still wanted him too.
"No," She cried in frustration, trying to fight something that she knew was already set in stone. She slumped onto the chequered tile of her kitchen floor. She wasn't sure how long it was before she fell asleep there.
When her wristwatch alarm woke her at six am she found herself lying in her own bed. She couldn't remember how she got there but that question was soon answered when her hand came across a piece of paper lying on the sheets next to her. She picked up the paper and read. It held only three words…
'Sleep Well Clarice'
Clarice sipped her coffee under duress, it tasted like dishwater and she only drank it for the caffeine hit. She was meant to begin sorting out her collection of case files on Dr. Lecter. Usually when she sorted through case files she read them to see if any information needed clearing before putting them correctly into the filing cabinet, but this morning she opted to just sort them into the filing cabinet. She knew it would not be long before they asked her to pick up his case again because she was the only person that had ever got remotely close to catching him. But maybe the reason was just vane hope as she shuddered to think what would happen to any other agent were they to be assigned to this case. She remembered reading the case file on the man who'd first incarcerated Dr. Lecter at the asylum. He'd nearly been gutted by the doctor in the process and was currently leading a very secretive retirement with his wife and child. Even Clarice wasn't allowed to know the location of Will Grahams home. But she expected people higher up in the Bureau would have the location on hand if they ever needed his assistance again.
She threw down a case file on the floor and a picture of Lecter's fourth victim Mason Verger slid out of the file. He'd been the one that had survived the longest and she'd been present at his death not a few months back. She shuddered at the memory and pushed her chair back from her desk. She needed coffee that tasted better than the dishwater they offered in the vending machine down the hall. She placed her sunglasses over her eyes, grabbed her bag and jacket and exited the Bureau building. She crossed the road and entered the little coffee shop that was a favourite haunt of many F.B.I. agents at lunch time, she waved hello to the owner of the café. A spindly old lady with bright pink hair tied in a high ponytail. Clarice had a suspicion that she'd once been a hippie. She paid for her coffee, exited the store and crossed the street back to her office.
Clarice sat on the little stool in front of her dressing table. She wore the black V-neck dress that Hannibal had chosen for her last time they'd had dinner together… with Paul Krendler. She chose to wear it for two reasons, one she had nothing else suitable to wear and two she knew that it would hopefully distract Dr. Lecter from his little mind games he always played with Clarice. She buckled the strap of her black heels, another generous gift from Dr. Lecter. She saw that it was still a quarter past five and she'd only gotten ready so early out of nervousness. She went to the kitchen, poured some of her trusty old friend Jack Daniels into a glass and went to the armchair in the corner of the room. She took several sips before deciding to close her eyes for a moment. But perhaps a moment too long as she soon fell asleep.
Clarice woke with a start not quite knowing what roused her, she raised her eyes to the kitchen door and sat up straight with a yelp as standing in the door way of her Kitchen was Dr. Lecter, dressed in an impeccably well cut suit. Clarice glanced up at the clock; it was exactly six.
"You weren't answering your door Clarice so I decided to check up on you."
"Since when do you ever come to the front door Doctor?"
A small smirk found its way into the Doctors features.
"It is only polite when escorting a lady to first knock upon her door."
"You could have been seen," Clarice replied seriously. Her heart was thumping loudly in her chest at the mere presence of him.
Dr. Lecter kept on smirking and walked up to the chair in which Clarice now sat like stone. She tensed as Dr. Lecter extended a hand towards her cheek but at his touch her muscles relaxed and strange electricity jolted through her stomach. Dr. Lecter could hear her heart as he stroked her cheek. It was beating very fast. He rather unwillingly pulled his hand from her cheek and cleared his throat.
"We have reservations Clarice and we mustn't be late."
Clarice nodded not being able to speak a word and let him lead her out by (much to Dr. Lecter's delight) her hand. A black Mercedes with tinted windows sitting across the street turned out to be there destination. Clarice noted as the locking system clicked and was just about to reach for the handle when her hand was barred by the Doctors hand. He held open the car door for her and closed it behind her before moving around to the other side of the car.
He pulled the driver's door closed and started the engine before turning to her.
"Might I say Clarice you look positively dazzling this evening, I've always loved that dress on you," Dr. Lecter winked at her and then turned to face the road. Clarice quietly thanked him as they drove off. It was some time before they spoke again.
"Where are we going for dinner Dr. Lecter?"
"You may call me Hannibal if you'd wish Clarice and I'd assure you It wouldn't be disrespectful," Hannibal turned the car off a side street and came to a main road, "And with regards to where we are going I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise."
Clarice nodded, racking her brains for the names of upmarket restaurants that were renowned for good wine. She knew that would be a requirement for any dining area that Hannibal graced. Wait did she just think graced?
Clarice was brought back from her thoughts as the car pulled to a stop outside red brick restaurant with a patio dining area containing beautifully sculptured cast iron tables and chairs. There were vines climbing up the poles that held up the roof of the dining area. The whole area was lit with golden light from antique looking street lights. Inside was exactly the same except the walls were adorned with beautiful frescoes that depicted architecture in Florence and Venice. Hannibal led Clarice over to the reception desk.
"Two at quarter past six for Renfrew?"
The waiter nodded and showed us to a table in the corner of the room next to a fresco of the Palazzo Vecchio. She remembered the last time she's set eyes on that building. It was a CCTV video showing Chief Inspector Rinaldo Pazzi hanging from the third floor balcony, his guts spilling onto the street below. Hannibal's face had been visible in the shadow of the balcony doorway.
Clarice averted her eyes away from the painting and turned them towards Hannibal. He was staring intently into her eyes. A small smile printed across his features as he reached out and handed her a menu. She picked up the menu and after a few minutes they both ordered their dinners.
Soon the waiter brought the wine and Hannibal poured a glass for them both. He handed the glass to her before raising his glass.
"To Italy," Hannibal spoke and they touched glasses. Clarice took a few sips and found that the wine was mercifully stopping the electricity shooting around her stomach. She sighed, looked at Hannibal and smiled.
Hannibal did not smile.
"Clarice, go to the bathroom, get cleaned up and meet me back at your house in fifteen minutes. Leave through the side entrance."
Clarice was so startled by what he said that she didn't have time to think about what she was doing. She found herself following his orders and soon she was out in the dark alley between the restaurant and a second hand bookstore. She walked quickly hoping to reach the street and the street lights soon but suddenly someone grabbed Clarice's arm and placed a hand over her mouth to muffle a small strangled yelp.
"It's just me, my dear," Hannibal's voice whispered in her ear and though it may have seemed stupid Clarice relaxed. But as soon as the shock of being approached as such in a dark alleyway blew over she began to realise how close she was to Hannibal. She was pressed up right against his body and her skin became suddenly very tingly.
Hannibal removed his hand from her mouth.
"A couple of your fellow agents came by, obviously to pick up some take away. They'd just finished for the day as they were still in uniform. But that may just be a ploy." Hannibal paused for a second to listen, "I believe it might be advisable for us to continue our little soirée back at your house."
Clarice nodded not daring to breathe a word for she knew she would be heard. Hannibal didn't need to fear such a thing because his voice seemed to be a part of the shadows, or so was the impression Clarice gained.
