Autumn

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters involved within this story, they belong to the talented Thomas Harris.

A/N: Yes, the cliffhanger is clichéd, but I promise you, follow this and I hope in my heart you all enjoy it.

Chapter One

One thing that Clarice Starling had always admired was how the radiant leaves of the summer trees slowly began to wither away into tiny specs of their former selves during autumn. Their brightly coloured stalks shrivelling into nothing more than a brown stump and the leaf that once held such beauty became crispy, dull and a small haven to hedgehogs and insects. Something which once was full of life, drained into loitering on paths or being kicked into the air by small children.

She liked to compare the autumn leaves to her career.

She once was full of life and determination to get the job done, that small spark deep inside of her heart willing her to go further to please not only herself, but also her father and her superiors. And like the small children to the leaves, her once highly thought of bosses kicked her into the air without a hope in hell and she fell hard. She was a shell of her former self, she still kept fit and worked out, she still followed the news with enough enthusiasm to push her further into creating herself a new career, not with the FBI but with herself. A dream that she had held onto before her career spiralled out of control into a laughable mess.

She wasn't a clown, so why had her disgraced leave of the Bureau tickled so many people? She had put her soul into finding Jame Gumb and putting a stop to his sick fantasy. He had killed innocent women for the pleasure of a suit made of human skin to please, to fool his mind into thinking that he was a woman himself.

She had put a stop to Evelda Drumgo, an HIV positive drug smuggler and mother, who was ruthless in killing Clarice's fellow FBI friends and agents. Who would stop at nothing to try and kill Clarice herself.

She had stopped Mason Verger, a crazed and insane man intent on revenge of the man she thought so highly of yet feared deeply. A man that had helped her, soothed her and comforted her but had haunted her dreams. A man so desperate for freedom he would die if ever caught again.

And she had stopped herself from becoming the women she was born to be, a strong willed woman with a brilliant career ahead of her. Instead she had sabotaged any chance of becoming a respectable Agent, her peers despised her for stopping Jame Gumb, for having a strange relationship with a serial killer, a cannibal but also a human being. So young and so full of life, the thing she wanted most in life had drained her to the point where she could no longer enjoy the career she had strived to create from an early age.

And as she jogged through the woodland she knew like the back of her hand, she thought about autumn, her career, her enemies and herself and she willed herself to continue jogging, to run as far as she could from life itself. Clarice needed an out, needed a change of scenery. A change of life.

She could only run for so long, and before she knew it she had reached the Mustang she had traded in for her well-worn pinto, an upgrade on both car and herself. She stared at the vehicle for some time, her sight blurring into a kaleidoscope of colours, which made her dizzy. Lazily she unlocked the driver's door and ducked inside, tucking her legs behind the wheel. Closing her eyes, Clarice dreamed of a tropical island full of golden sand, water so clear and a sun so bright it melted her from the inside.

A tap on her window startled Clarice from her day dream, a small balding man glared at her, he had a park attendants uniform on, his badge read ' Hank '.

Rolling down her window she stared at the man questioningly, his balding head sending a glare of sunlight her way.

"You shouldn't be here, missus."

"I was just leaving."

The man looked at her and blinked slowly. His breath smelled of stale whiskey, his once blue eyes fading to a dull grey.

"Alright."

With a slight limp Hank turned from the Mustang and began making his way to the woods.

The drive to Clarice's small apartment took no longer than twenty minutes, she parked her Mustang and slowly walked up her path, the weeds she had missed during the summer starting to come through the cracks. She sighed and unlocked her door, kicking it shut she dropped her keys in the bowl that lay on the table next to her door and slipped her shoes off.

Rest was the only thing on her mind as she made her way to her un made bed. Without heir or grace Clarice landed face first on the bed and slept, dreaming of the one person she wished to see.

Clarice had always been a light sleeper, the cat she had back in college had to be given up due to the fact it would always wake her, posing as an intruder. Her dreams of the lambs somehow plaguing her every thought and waking her with no remorse. The small thump that came from the living room jerked Clarice awake and alerted her to a presence that wasn't welcome in her home. Ardelia had a key, but she would always phone first before coming over, it couldn't be her.

Clarice's breath hitched in her throat, one man came to mind but she dared not think it was him, she had tried to re capture him, bargain with him to let the late Paul Krendler go, she had stupidly tried to stab him with a butter knife. It had left her caught in the fridge by her hair watching the man she wanted leaving, escaping to some other country, posing as a tourist or curator or simply a neighbour.

Another small thump made her jump back into reality, grabbing the gun she kept in her bedside drawer, she took to the predatory stance she was taught and slowly hunted whoever had decided to break and enter the sanctuary of her home.

In the dark it was hard to notice small things, for example shadows. Clarice had started hating the dark after she killed Jame Gumb, his basement so dark she couldn't see her small pale hand in front of her eyes, so dark the only things she could trust was her fear and her instincts. He of course had had his trusty night vision goggles, ogling her and undressing her with his eyes. Would have she made a lovely collection to the many skins that adorned his unfinished suit? Just thinking of the past brought a stab of anger to her chest; she tried to rub it away while willing the tears that were forming in the corner of her eyes to go away.

Crawling through the hall was an easy task, it was narrow and dark but the always alert Clarice had thought about what to adorn the dull hall with, not a table or a plant, those things would get in the way and due to her new habit of falling over things she thought it wise to keep it empty. Another small thump followed a swishing sound and Clarice frowned. This wasn't Doctor Lecter's M.O. He was always careful as to make as little noise as possible; surely he knew she was a light sleeper? He'd been in her house on one occasion that she knew of and she had slept soundly while he wandered her rooms and did god knows what. He obviously hadn't satisfied his curiosity if the person inside her living room was him.

Standing still outside the living room door she noticed it was slightly ajar, a dark silhouette of a figure floating aimlessly back and forth between the light. Clarice wiped a bead of sweat that had decided to trickle slowly down the side of her face, when had she become this nervous? Gun cocked, she blinked hard, controlled her breathing and quickly opened the door. Her light switch was on her left hand side; frantically she tried to find it while her right hand tried to follow the pattern of the silhouetted figure.

Her finger brushed the switch, a gasp of joy escaped her mouth and her world turned black. With a thump, she hit her carpeted floor and dropped her gun. The un welcome figure stared at her body for awhile before placing a finger at the edge of his nose and inhaling deeply.

"Whatever shall I do with you, my dear Clarice?"