A/N: Losing my fanfiction virginity, here. Not that ya'll should go easy on me or nothing. Anyway, I tried to make this a true drabble, but it didn't quite work out. I'm not sure what this is, or even where it came from, because I usually love H/C.
Disclaimer: If I owned Silence, do you think I'd be here writing fanfiction about it? Exactly. All credit goes to Tom Harris. Love the Doctor, Tom.
He didn't question how she knew he was in her house, didn't question why she was calm when he said her name. "Clarice."
Didn't question why she hugged him, murmuring something about a discrete discharge from the FBI. He simply reveled in the feeling of her skin, the smell of her, (Evian skin cream and L'Air du Temps perfume, still) the taste of her mouth. He had dreamed of this since Memphis. He didn't question until he felt the cold of gunmetal against his head.
"Hannibal Lecter, step back and put your hands on your head. You are under arrest."
Well, what'd you think? R/R and make my day!