First off, a big thank you to Chameleon for the plot bunny and to Luna, who turned this one down. Second, as for the timeline, sometime after SOTL.

Third, Cannon, Canon, Camera or whatever, you can throw that one right out the window.

I'll be lucky if this makes any sense at all!

With that said, good luck and if someone figures out the plot, will you let me know what it is!

The usual applies; I own no one or nothing pertaining to this story.

Road Trip

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As I sit here, staring at my computer screen, wondering how I ever got myself into such a predicament, it occurs to me, that's just the way life goes. Things don't always happen as we plan and in this case, that's a major understatement.

It all started about a week ago. Jack Crawford had called me into his office to inform me about a forensics conference in Las Vegas Nevada that we were to attend. One of the speakers was to be Gil Grissom, of the Las Vegas crime lab. At first I was rather excited at the chance to meet Grissom, considered one of the top crime scene investigators in the United States, that was until Crawford announced the rest of our party. Clint Pearsall and Paul Krendler were to accompany us to the conference. Pearsall was bad enough, but Krendler?

I immediately began trying to figure a way out of this little excursion. The thought of spending three days with this trio of G-Men gave me a rash. After several failed excuses and a few forced tears, Crawford made his position clear, this was a mandatory conference and I WOULD attend, like it or not.

So off we went, just like one big happy dysfunctional family. Of course I got stuck sitting next to Krendler on the plane, Pearsall's doing, no doubt. During one point into the flight, as I tried to ignore Krendler and get some sleep, I felt his hand on my upper thigh. Slapping his hand as hard as I could, I opened my eyes and said, "Damn Paul, did you see the size of that bug that was crawling on my leg?" Krendler just rubbed his hand saying, "Did you have to hit me so hard Starling?" Smiling, I resumed my nap and was no longer bothered by the nasty little insect in the seat next to me.

We finally touched down at LVX at 6:02pm. Crawford rented a car and we headed for the hotel.

I was pretty tired and just wanted to take a bath and get some sleep. "Where are we staying Sir, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Not at all Starling. The Bureau made reservations for us at the Las Vegas Hilton."

"Rats, I was hoping for the Venetian."

"Well, they tried several different hotels, but the brass decided this was more in their price range."

"Yeah right. You can bet if the big wigs were here, it would be a different story."

"Starling, why don't you just try and have a good time, after all, this is a freebie." Krendler spouted.

After giving Krendler a good glare, I just turned back to the scenery. I hated to admit it, but he was right. Why couldn't I just relax and at least try to enjoy myself. I decided that I would give it a try.

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My room was small, but it was more than I would need. A full size bed, a table with a couple of chairs, a small sofa and a fair size Jacuzzi tub. The tub was to be my first stop.

Rummaging through the mini bar, I found a coke and some small bottles of alcohol. I popped open the can of coke, and after taking a big gulp, I poured one of the small bottles of Jack Daniel's into the can and headed for the tub.

I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I remember I was shivering. The water in the tub had turned cold and my body resembled a sunsweet prune. I dried myself off, threw on my sweats and climbed into bed. Looking to the clock, it was still only about 9:30pm. Rolling over, I was asleep before I knew it. Then the dream came.

A dream I have had more nights than I could count. Always the same dream. The first time I remember having the dream was the worst.

I'm in Memphis, bringing Dr. Lecter his drawings. I walk through a set of double doors. I see the cage set up in the middle of the room. There's a man in the cage, lying on the floor. He appears to be handcuffed to the cage. He's not moving. I don't see anyone else in the room. I slowly make my way to the cage. The door is open, so I go inside. I find that the man cuffed to the cage is an officer. Blood, there is so much blood.

I place the drawings on the small table and see a tape recorder. The play button is depressed, but the tape is at the end. I hit the stop button, then rewind. After a few moments I hit play.

I'm not familiar with this music, classical, but it's nice, calming, soothing. I close my eyes, listening to the notes. At some point I become aware of a presence. HIS presence, behind me, so close I can fell his breath on the back of my neck. I don't move, whether it's out of fear or something else, I'm not sure. I feel him place his hands on my shoulders and then run them down the length of my arms. I am spun around so quickly my head continues long after my body has stopped. I feel him push me into the bars, pinning me there with his body, his hands grasping the bars on either side of me. His face is stained with blood. I am trapped, not by his body, but his eyes. I try to look away, but cannot. Then his head begins a slow decent, I should feel repulsed, I should try and break free, but I do neither. When I feel his lips on mine, my body quivers. I know he feels it too, I feel his lips turn up into a slight smile as he deepens the kiss. As his tongue pushes its way into my mouth, I can taste the blood as well as him, it's intoxicating. I find myself returning his kiss, no longer able to resist. As I allow my tongue to slip into his waiting mouth, he bites down, not to inflict damage or pain, more out of passion and effect. As I slightly flinch, he is aware that his tactic has achieved its goal. I am engulfed in a wave of desire for this man that I have never felt with another. He pulls away from me then to speak only a single word, "Bye." When he turns to leave, I reach out to grab his arm, but before I can touch him, I wake up.

Waking up after having the dream for the first time, I could swear I had the taste of blood in my mouth. I then felt the pain, and a throbbing in my tongue. Making my way to the bathroom, I looked in the mirror. There I saw blood forming at the corner of my mouth and after further examination I found I had indeed bitten my tongue, or so I hoped.

I had finally come to the conclusion that it would not be by my hand, if Dr. Lecter ever found himself locked up again. The lambs would surely wail for all eternity if I were to be the one responsible, so that was that. It was odd, the sense of comfort I had attained from that decision, but after having made it, the lambs were silent, granted the new dream had started, but I could live with it.