Author's Note: I'm back! And, having seen, for the first time, both "The Silence of the Lambs" and "Hannibal", and going on one of my "Character-Obsession" sprees, I found a lovely parody of "Silence of the Lambs" called "SILENCE! The Musical", and the lyrics to one of the songs provided me with the title to this fic. Otherwise, this whole thing was inspired by that one scene in Hannibal. Which should be readily apparent. Based on the movie, not the book. I own nothing.

I was terrified that she would die.

The bleeding wasn't as horrible as it should have been, and I am an adept surgeon. It was not difficult to remove the bullet, and even easier to sew the wound together. But still…

I am no stranger to death. I am no stranger to pain. Indeed, I have walked hand-in-hand with the two of them since… well, for longer than I care to discuss. But it is her death I fear. Her pain. I did not question her reasons for coming to my aid- a sense of loyalty, perhaps. Camaraderie. It did not matter. We were even when I tied the knot in her stitches.

I did not save her to repay a debt. It was that creeping fear, that oncoming terror of what her death would bring. A world, a life without her somewhere in this world. How much more boring it would be. How utterly… lonely.

That must be why. Why I tended her wounds. I was lonely. It would be too much to simply eat her, no, she had to live. She had challenged me, in her way. She had trusted me. I am no stranger to trust. Many have trusted me, or gave a semblance of trust. I had never been so affected by it. Some of them, I had devoured. Some, I had merely killed. Some I ignored altogether, and some I allowed to live, after pain had been dealt.

I suppose there are only so many kinds of trust. She trusted me with honesty, and with her secrets. I'll admit, I had weaseled the story of the lambs out of her, but she had trusted me with it nonetheless. But she did not trust me to stay, and be captured once again. Clever girl.

She knew I would flee. And she took such risk in subduing me. But I am not one to shirk from the squeamish way out, if that be the only exit. I had fully intended to cut off her hand. "Above, or below the wrist?"

It was at the last moment that I found I could not do it. The knife swerved and I heard her scream. Alas, it was my hand I had severed, but the pain she had expected seared in her mind. Sympathetic, in one way or another.

I had but little time, and any time I spent with her could easily result in my own capture. And so I fled, bringing with my only a little of the boy's brain- One should never waste good meat.

The bloody stump of my wrist did not pain me so much as leaving her behind. I held some vague hope in my mind that she would follow, perhaps join me in my flight. It was not to be. I had shown her my love, in ways both conventional and… not. It was now her choice to act upon it.

It did not take long for me to book a flight to some other country. It was a lonely plane, filled with people and their kin. I could not distract myself from thoughts of Clarice, thoughts of might-have-been and should-have-been, and with the thoughts came the penetrating loneliness. I thought I would die, or sink deeper into insanity, if I could not find some creature to speak with.

Providence sent me a child. A child, with whom to speak, and converse. And what a conversation! Irony would be a good term for it, considering what I am. I would have laughed, if I weren't so relieved at the distraction.

"What are you eating?"