Chapter 1: A Recap

Clarice Starling stared down into the empty boat on the water as police officers ran around Paul Krendler's cottage estate searching desperately for Dr. Lecter. Her arms shot into the air as police officers shouted for her to drop the gun and identify herself, which she did without thought. Her long auburn hair and black dinner dress whipped around her as helicopters circled overhead, shining their spotlights onto the ground. Clarice frowned darkly at the 4th of July fireworks as they went off in the distance. They seemed to be an ironic mockery of the events that had unfolded that evening.

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Clarice snuggled further into her pillow, unwilling to rouse from the deep slumber that her body so clearly needed after the savage beating it had endured. Taking a bullet while saving Dr. Lecter from Mason Verger, Dr. Lecter's fifth and only (formerly) surviving victim, had taken a toll on her body... Or was it the drug that Dr. Lecter had meticulously injected into her right arm to remove the offending bullet and sew her up like a treasured, tattered doll?

Clarice opened her dull blue eyes slowly to gaze around the unfamiliar room. Her vision seemed blurry and any form of movements took an unbearable effort. As she forced herself to move her head, she realized that she had been drugged. She struggled to get to the edge of the bed where she flopped down onto the ground in a ruffled heap. Taking deep breaths as the world around her spun, she grabbed onto the bed and hoisted herself back up onto her feet. She turned to study the stitching near her right shoulder as the world spun dangerously around her. She shut her eyes tightly and allowed herself several deep breaths. Opening her eyes again, she shuffled over to the window and gazed out onto the water. From what she could see, she was in a waterfront house on the second story. There was a small engine boat bobbing gracefully on the water The lights in the distance left glittering trails in her vision.

Wandering quietly outside of the room and down the hallway, she came across stairs leading down where she could hear the clanking of pots and two male voices. One voice drifted to her, his voice slightly metallic and articulate, decisive and elegant. His words drifted in and out of her understanding as he spoke to his guest.

"You must be polite to our guest, Paul. You must make her feel welcome. Now come, this won't hurt a bit."

A loud metallic buzz echoed throughout the house and then the conversation continued fluidly.

"There's another guest?"

"Yes. Agent Starling, Paul. Now come, we must have dinner prepared for us!."

Clarice looked down the stairs cautiously. She turned back to look at the landing she was on and noticed that her gun, handcuffs and a phone (though it had been disconnected) sat on a small table. Wobbling slightly, she leaned down and reconnected the phone and proceeded to dial the FBI's number. When a monotonous dispatcher answered on the other end, Clarice explained quietly her whereabouts and how Dr. Lecter had kidnapped her. She almost zoned out when the voice began to calmly explain that they would trace the call and would be there in 10 minutes. Resting the headpiece back onto the table, she slowly bad her way down the stairs. She reached the bottom and turned into the dining room and came face to face with an impeccably dressed Dr. Lecter and a dazed, drooling Paul Krendler.

As Lecter diced herbs and began making a sauce, Clarice came further into the room. She stared back at Paul, whose mouth was hanging open and drooling slightly. Breaking the stare, she looked up to Dr. Lecter.

"Why are you here, Clarice? You should be resting. I gave you morphine to remove that bullet" Lecter waved his hand vaguely towards her shoulder

Instead of answering, Clarice sat at the dinner table and requested a glass of wine, which Lecter denied her politely. Before they could begin to speak, Paul interrupted with a slurred voice, asking what was for dinner. Lecter turned to Paul and served him some broth, helping him drink it through a straw. Confessing that he added something special to Paul's serving, he went back to his sauté. After some trivial conversation, Paul demanded to know what was really for dinner.

"Never ask rude questions, Paul."

Lecter moved behind Paul to gather a few culinary instruments and asked Paul to say grace. Paul looked pointedly at Clarice before tightly closing his eyes.

"Bow you head. Father, we thank Thee for Thy blessings and dedicate them to Thy mercy we are about... to receive. Forgive us all, even white trash like Starling here and bring her into my service. Amen."

"Now I have to tell you, Paul... Even the Apostle Paul couldn't have done better. He hated women, too." Dr. Lecter said softly

As Lecter moved around again, Paul whispered harshly to Clarice

"By the way, Clarice, that was a job offering I worked into the blessing. I'm going to Congress, you know."

Obviously, Paul was beyond tranquilized. Dr. Lecter had fed him some serious drugs. Clarice took notice of Paul's peculiar attire, his track pants and a ball cap. Clarice felt a wave of confusion as she looked down at her own attire. Why was she dressed so elegantly and why was Paul wearing a hat at the table? Perhaps Dr. Lecter wanted Paul to be comfortable for the evening.

"Can you type and file? Can you take dictation? Take this down: 'Washington is full of corn-pone country pussy.'" Paul laughed childishly and went back to drooling and staring down at the table.

"I took it down, you said it already." Clarice muttered

Dr. Lecter returned and stared down at Paul as he moved around deftly. His voice was soft and gentle but his words carried a lethal threat behind them

"Now you're being rude and I hate rude people."

Dr. Lecter walked over to Clarice to give her some broth. As he bent down to place the bowl in front of her, she lunged at him with a dull bread knife she had grabbed while his back was turned. Dr. Lecter caught her easily by the wrist and pushed her back into her seat with a gentle nudge.

"Come on, Clarice. No! That's a good girl." As he took the knife and placed it in his pocket, he placed his hand on her cheek and stared down at her with his warm maroon eyes. He smiled slightly which made his face wrinkle with a deceptive kindness. His black suit and crimson tie went together perfectly, as did his short black hair and calculating gaze. It gave him an air of sophistication.

He walked back over to Paul, who had closed his eyes and rested his head back with his jaw opened slackly. Obviously, whatever Dr. Lecter had slipped into his broth had finally kicked in and he was drugged further into submission. Dr. Lecter removed Paul's hat quickly and grabbed one of the instruments he gathered earlier. There was a cut that encircled Paul's forehead. Paul blinked slowly and didn't move when Dr. Lecter moved behind him and placed a hand on top of his head while he slowly pushed a scalpel into the cut. As he wedged it further in, the hand on top of Paul's head pulled at the hair. Slowly but surely, the top of Paul's skull, much like a jack o' lantern, popped off. Unaware of of his naked brain, Paul continued to drool and stare at Clarice.

"Doctor Lecter!" Clarice said in a strangled voice. She stared desperately at Paul.

"You see, the brain itself feels no pain if that concerns you. For example, Paul won't miss this little piece here..." Dr. Lecter indicated to a section of the pink spongy mass emerged from Paul, who was now giving a small smile to Clarice.

"...Which is part of the prefrontal lobe, which they say is the seat of good manners." Dr. Lecter gave a small sarcastic smile and Clarice began to bargain for Paul's life.

"Your trait profile. Stop now, and I'll tell you what they are."

"How does that word taste to you, Clarice? Hmm? Cheap and metallic, like... sucking on a greasy coin?"

Paul, who was incredibly still conscious despite his horrific injuries, inquired slowly

"Who's Clarice?"

Dr. Lecter, nostrils flared, kept his gaze on Clarice. He gave Paul a short, clipped answer.

"Agent Starling, Paul. If you can't keep up with the conversation you had better not try to join in at all."

Clarice turned to look at Paul with tears in her eyes. "Me, Paul. I'm Starling." It was obvious that Paul was beginning to fade. He stared around slowly and dribbled more saliva down the front of his jacket.

Hannibal went back to work on Paul's brain. He took the scalpel and delicately cut the sac that contains the brain, which he then peeled back to fully expose the pink mass. Desperate to stop the actions and to somehow save Paul, Clarice demanded wine once more. Ignoring her, Dr. Lecter sliced off a small portion of Paul's brain and began to fry it in the sauce he had created earlier. The smell began to waft around the room and Paul snapped out of his stupor and looked around to Dr. Lecter. Paul sniffed appreciatively.

"That smells great!"

"Yeah, I bet. Why don't you try a little piece?"

Clarice choked back a sob as Dr. Lecter placed the delicate piece of fried flesh into Paul's open mouth. As he began to chew, Clarice began to gag and looked away as Paul began to unknowingly eat himself to death.

Moving away from Paul with a satisfied sound, Hannibal poured Clarice a small glass of wine and offered it to her, which she denied by turning her head and looking away. Hannibal sighed and downed the glass.

"Given the chance, you would deny me my life, wouldn't you?"

"Not your life." She responded softly

"My freedom, just that. You'd take that from me. And if you did, would they have you back, do you think? The FBI? Those people you despise almost as much as they despise you? Would they give you a medal, Clarice, do you think? Would you have it professionally framed and hang it on your wall to look at and remind you of your courage and incorruptibility?" He smiled softly, his eyebrows twitching upward and his eyes twinkled admiringly, "All you would need for that, Clarice, is a mirror."

They shared a look for a moment before Paul shot a rude comment out to Clarice.

"I had plans for that smart mouth! But I'm never gonna hire you-you now."

Dr. Lecter turned to Paul and inquired softly

"Paul?"

Clarice looked at Paul whose blinking became forced. Small drops of bloob began to stream down his face and he gurgled something unintelligible.

"Paul, remember what I said? Id you can't be polite to our guests, you have to sit at the kiddie's table."

Dr. Lecter moved to start cleaning the table and told Clarice not to get up. Paul was still staring at her with a goofy grin plastered on his face. Dr. Lecter placed a plate onto Paul's lap and pulled at the back of his chair (which Clarice hadn't noticed was a wheelchair) and began pushing him towards the kitchen.

"Paul will help me clean and make coffee. Just think about what I said, Clarice."

As the door slowly closed, Paul gave a small, weak wave to Clarice. Clarice grabbed a candleholder and rose quietly from the table. She glanced into the kitchen through a small gap between the door and the doorway. As Dr. Lecter moved around to make the coffee, Paul's head finally drooped forward. Dr. Lecter threw a towl over his head lazily and continued preparing coffee. Taking her chance, Clarice charged into the room with the candleholder help high over her head, poised and ready to strike at Dr. Lecter's turned body. As she came in, he turned around quickly and grabbed her wrist. They struggled for a moment before Dr. Lecter overpowered her and slammed her back into the fridge door.

"I came halfway around the world to watch you run, Clarice." He leaned forward until their faces were inches from touching. She stared into his eyes as he gazed at her parted lips. Clarice could see that his control was slipping from him. Taking a breath, he regained control and moved his back a few centimetres before speaking again.

"Let me run, huh?"

He moved away from her for a moment and Clarice took the opportunity to charge at him again. He caught her wrist more forcefully this time and let out a small growl before slammer back onto the fridge. Bottles inside the fridge clanked together noisily. Clarice rested her head back while Dr. Lecter stared at her with frigid stare. He breathed deeply before ripping open the fridge and slamming it closed onto Clarice's ponytail, effectively pinning her to the fridge. He broke off the handle for good measure and took a step back to appreciate his work. He then looked at her with affection once again, admiring her fighting spirit.

"Tell me, Clarice... Would you ever say to me, 'Stop! If you loved me, you'd stop!'?" His eyes moved over her face slowly, memorizing each detail of her defiant, flushed face. His features softened but his maroon eyes searched hers as he waited for a reply

Clarice grimaced in pain and with a strong, determined whisper, replied.

"Not in a thousand years."

The only thing that gave her away was the slight quiver in her bottom lip.

Dr. Lecter's eyebrows shot up and he considered her response for a moment. His eyes darkened and narrowed ever so slightly.

"Not in a thousand years?" he parroted back to her

Without warning, he brought his face to hers quickly, teeth bared. He stopped within a hairsbreadth from her and stared into her unblinking, calm eyes. He smiled approvingly before moving back and gazing into her face appreciatively. It had been a test of truth. She did not flinch away but stared at him sadly.

"That's my girl." He whispered reverently

He then moved close again, this time not pausing. His lips covered her own in a searing kiss. Electricity passed through them both, much as it had back when Hannibal had handed her the Buffalo Bill case file through the bars of his makeshift cell all those years ago.

Long, delicious moments passed as Hannibal's lips roamed greedily over her own. He pulled back whe the sound of sirens reached their ears. Dr. Lecter lifted his lips from hers and smiled at her for what felt like the final time.

"Good bye, Clarice."

Dr. Lecter turned towards the hallway and quickly disappeared into the darkness. Struggling, it took Clarice a minute or two to free herself from the fridge before she dashed down the hallway and out the back door. Facing the water, she ran towards the boat, convinced that he would use it to escape.

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Clarice brought herself back from the memory as she turned to look at the officers over her shoulder. They were approaching her slowly, their guns trained on her.

"Identify yourself!"

"My name is Special Agent Clarice Starling!"

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Hours passed as the FBI raided Paul Krendler's cottage for any clues pointing to Lecter's whereabouts. The ambulance team had pulled Clarice over, examined her quickly, and sent the ambulance off towards the hospital

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Clarice was checked into the hospital for overnight monitoring. After being questioned extensively by nurses and examined by doctors, Clarice was lead to a private hospital room and handed a bag containing her belongings from the house. Her bloodstained clothing, wallet, handcuffs, and gun where there, ready for her use. Unfortunately, they had included the dinner dress and Gucci shoes.

Clarice laid in her stiff bed with her head back and her eyes closed. There was no sound in her dimly lit room aside from the constant beeping from the various machines attached to her. After replaying the nights' events for what felt like the thousandth time, Clarice raised her head and opened her tired eyes to look around the room. Finding the walls boring, she leaned over the bedside to her table and grabbed her belongings.

As she emptied the contents of the bag onto her lap, she made a disgusted sound. Her shirt, the one she had worn when she rescued Dr. Lecter from Verger's mansion, was in there. There was blood and sweat that stained it from the violent encounter with the man in the loft. In the shoulder, there was a tattered, bloodstained hole from where the bullet pierced her.

She grumpily threw the shirt into the corner of the room and resumed looking through her things. Her pants were relatively clean so she absentmindedly wiped off dirt and picked off a fluff before running her hand over a pocket. Feeling a lump, she reached in and slowly pulled out a thick yellow envelope. She stared at it with wide eyes for a moment and swallowed the hysterical laughter that was rising in her throat. She flipped it over and read to whom it was addressed. In elegant, scrawling curves, her name stared up at her.

Dearest Clarice,

My dear, I did say that we were pressed for time. However, I find this note fitting for the occasion. I do hope you accept my apologies for witnessing tonight's 'dinner'. It was my deepest wish that you would have remained asleep from the morphine I administered to you. I did suggest that you go back to bed, did I not?

I feel I left too abruptly, especially after that lovely moment in the kitchen. Tell me, Clarice, did it satisfy your hunger? It certainly did not for me. I'm quite annoyed that you felt the need to contact your FBI agents... We could have had some fun, Clarice. I did tell you all those years ago that I thought it would be quite something to know you on a personal level. Now I know you on a more delicious level, Clarice. I approve of the flavour of that lip balm you wear. Strawberry is my favourite, Clarice.

I find that I cannot fully leave you this way. At the moment, dear Agent Starling, I am traveling. Where-to shall remain a mystery for now, my Little Starling, but I do hope that you will not inform your pals at the FBI (though I doubt it. Your lust for justice is much too strong.). I have left a small clue in your wallet if you decide to pursue me once more.

Clarice, I do hope to see you again. Hopefully, we shall convene in more desirable circumstances. Now that Dr. Chilton & Mason Verger are disposed of, I am sure we could sit down and enjoy that nice Chianti we spoke of all those years ago.

Ta-ta for now,

Hannibal Lecter, M.D.

P.S The dress and shoes were simply gorgeous. I hope you don't mind that I slipped them on for you. Hopefully those medics will allow you to keep them to wear again one day... But next time, there will be no morphine.

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A/N Well, looks like I'm coming back to this fanfiction after two long years of distraction. I'm making some improvements to already existing chapters. In the end, the plot will definitely change from what I originally have in mind.