Fours years after Silence of the Lambs

DISCLAIMER - blah no money being made - Thomas Harris's characters blah blah - bite me ...

Sweat poured like rain against windows during a rainy day down Special Agent Starling's face as her feet pounded in a rhythmic beat against the hard earth. Brushing the sleeve of her standard issue FBI sweater against her forehead, wiping the stray hairs of thick hair that stuck to her face. She thought and dreaded vigorously about why Section Chief Jack Crawford had asked for her presence in his office. She came to a stop and wiped her shoes before entering the cool building.

Her running shoes sqeaked gently on the floor as she passed through the many cubicles of agents that occupied the Behavioral Science Department and came face to face with cold wooden door that bore the words "Section Chief Jack Crawford" in peeling gold letters. Starling knocked sharply on the door before pressing her palm against the door and proceeding inside. Walking inside the room she felt her stomach twist and felt like she was reliving and old memory, you know one of those memories we pretend was a dream and lock it away so not even ourselves can see. As Clarice looked around the cabinet filled office with papers spilling out of every orifice, she noticed one particular manilla folder sitting in the middle of the clutter on Crawfords desk. Feeling a strong magnetic tug towards it she turned her on her heels and head over. She was about to pick it up when a voice entered the stuffy silence of the office.

'Agent Starling, nice to see you again,' Clarice turned and faced Section Chief Crawford, her heart racing from nearly being caught ruffling through his things.

'Mr Crawford sir,' she replied, her voice soft with traces of a southern accent, 'good to see you also.'

She lied.

Being here with Crawford was not going to be any good, she could tell and the fact that he was making an effort to be kind was making her nervous.

'Please sit down,' he gestured towards a comfy looking but pretty worn out chair. Taking her seat and smoothing her hands over her blue sweat pants, trying to look at least a little presentable. Why did he have a habit of requesting for her when she was training and looking horrible? Maybe he thought it made him look better, as he looked very much his age at 58. Or on the other hand, Starling thought, he was just a bastard.

Tearing herself away from those thoughts she looked back at him expectantly, dreading what was to come, though her very pretty face showed no sign. Crawford cleared his throat and picked up the very file Starling herself had felt compelled to look at. A chill shot of up her spine suddenly as he opened the folder revealing the many papers it held. Taking the top paper off she could tell that it was a profile, it was on blue paper and was sealed. With old hands Crawford passed it into Starlings young hands and watched her expression fade into noting, he could see she was masking the sudden emotion that flooded her veins as she look down on the innocent paper. But the person described and photo graphed was far from innocent in Crawford eyes.

Clarice felt her breath catch in her throat and die as she loked at the mug shot, she suddenly breathed in deeply through her nose and her nostrils flared as she tried to calm herself.

'Doctor Lecter...' she looked back at Crawford, her face clearly asking why.

Crawford let a quick sigh escape before he let any words escape from his thinning lips, 'We have had reports of him being sighted in Paris. We..- I was hoping that you be able to take over the case once again and assist with the search. Starling bottom line - your our only hope of catching this son-of-a-bitch. He talked to you, he told you things, he never talked to anyone Starling.'

Clarice was shaking her head in a jerky manner as she contemplated what he was asking her to do. She was feeling rather strange that she had wanted to pick that file, out of them all. Was it something lodged deep in her subconscious that had made her want to pick it up and look through. But then Starling didn't believe in being that sort of nonsense, so she threw the troubling thought away and focused back on Crawford and his proposal.

'Okay Mr Crawford but on the condition that it's my case, so I run it. Not you, not Mr Krendler either who has been poking his nose around everywhere he can. And if I get sick of this or I want out - I'm out.' Her tone was confident which was reassuring to her ears. She wasn't quite sure why she was agreeing. Her rational side, which sounded like Ardelia for some reason was screaming at her and tearing at her brain,'Girl? What the hell do you think your doing!You crazy or something, damn girlfriend! I mean ser-' Ignoring the rather irritating rational thinker she picked up the file up of her lap, shook hands with Crawford and exchanged goodbyes before walking out of the office feeling strangely like a new woman or maybe a forgotten one. She had felt like this when she had first been assigned to the case of "Hannibal the Cannibal' as the papers had dubbed him.

Four years since she had been requested to see Crawford on that fateful day. Everything had changed, including herself. She was not the naive agent with a couple of degrees, she was Special Agent Clarice Starling of the FBI. She had climbed higher up the ladder to success, sure the view was nicer but as she climbed everything became clearer and sometimes we just don't want to see - after all ignorance is bliss.

Hope you liked it just a little teaser I guess, please R&R or else I won't be bothered with writting any more as there is nop point if I think nobody is reading it:(