Note: First off, this story is a sequel to Lessons, but due to the wonderful idea of Penelope S Cartwright, I am currently writing a prequel as well, based on the back-story of Lilia Derevko; as well as a shorter story focusing on Hannibal…so this could end up getting very confusing…(and today is my first anniversary as a fanfic author!).

DAYNIGHT

a Hannibal fanfic by JetNoir

MONDAY

(d a y)

When the plane eventually landed in Chicago, it was raining, and that seemed to fit Clarice Starling's mood perfectly. She was sad, and heartbroken. She was betrayed.

Collecting her scant luggage proved no problem, and soon she was in a taxi – all paid for by the seeming benevolent Federal Bureau of Investigation. Clarice knew different. She knew what could happen, when it turned against you.

She had barely scraped back to her former position, and now the probation was over, she could put the whole sorry mess behind her. Revenant was dead. Lilia was dead. But the memory lingered.

It had felt so natural for her to work as part of a team, so…right. It hadn't worked out, and she remembered the bitter arguments and recriminations that had raged – Clarice hell-bent on blaming herself, Matt and Elias…

So she had taken leave. Or rather, had been made to take leave. A simple matter – considering the events. Dr Hannibal Lecter had been right. She had learnt the lesson…and wondered whether she would ever be able to trust anyone again.

The taxi turned into her hotel. Expensive and luxurious. She was glad she didn't have to pay the bill.

'Don't worry about the cost. You need some time to relax.'

Director Tunberry had been so understanding. So understanding in fact that she had known instantly it had been false. Not for her well being. To find out what went wrong. They wanted her out the way. It was understandable, but not helpful.

The room was nice, but Starling, albeit tired, was restless. She had to get out and away, to fly.

Chicago wasn't called the windy city for nothing, and Clarice was glad that she had wrapped up warmly. It was strong today, and so she was especially careful. She was on standby still. That was a blessing.

She'd turned down the next street when her mobile phone started to ring, so, sighing, she picked it out of her pocket, and held it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Clarice, it's Matt. I'm just ringing to see how you are."

"I'm fine Matt. Really. The Bureau thought I needed time…but you and I both know, it's them that need time. The time to analyse our taskforce and found out who screwed up."

"Yeah. Not really much I can add to that, is there?"

"What about this news regarding Lecter."

"Slater and Irons are fine, and in position. I'm not allowed to tell you where."

"Irons? They sent Elias? What about you?"

"Too old apparently. Just my luck."

"You know, you probably are lucky. Knowing the FBI's record Slater and Irons won't last too long. A sickening thought, but the only person who ever got halfway close was Will Graham…and that was only because Lecter let him…and then grew a little too arrogant. Look at him now though. He's burned out. It's tragic."

"Look Clarice, I have to go. Take care of yourself, and I'll talk soon. Okay. Bye."

It was when Starling put the phone back in her pocket when all hell broke loose.

-

"MURDERER!"

Clarice twisted at the world, to be knocked backwards, hitting her head on the floor. Her vision went into a blur, as she felt her face being struck once, twice. She moaned, and tried to wrestle the assailant off, but he was too strong.

His breath, warm in her earlobe, his voice, a thousand daggers shooting into her skull:

"Murderer…don't think this is the end. I will make you suffer…It has begun!"

The weight was suddenly lifted, and she heard the sound of running feet.

"You okay?" a new voice, frantic with concern, "Jesus Christ, I'll call for an ambulance."

The confusion lasted another minute, before Clarice Starling sunk into uneasy, blissful unconsciousness.

(n i g h t)

When Starling awoke, it was to the anaesthetic odour of a hospital. The nurse, seeing Clarice's eyes open, went for a doctor.

The doctor, when he came, was very nice, explaining to her that she had been attacked. He then explained that she had a mild concussion, but due to the fact she was FBI, he would be willing to release her to FBI medical for observation. Clarice was grateful that he was kind enough to ring the local FBI office, and within the next hour, the head of FBI Chicago was sitting at her bedside.

"We've interviewed all the witnesses, and all their stories match," said District Director Vaughn, "you were attacked by a figure, who is believed to be male, due to body structure, but was masked."

"It was what he said to me," said Clarice, "'Murderer…don't think this is the end. I will make you suffer…It has begun!' It makes no sense. Did he confuse me for someone else?"

"We don't think so…we believe that he specifically targeted you for some reason…and it's that we need to find out."

"The doctor said something about releasing me. Can I go back to the hotel?"

"Yes…we're setting up an emergency taskforce, in case the threat is real, in the room next to yours. We'll protect you."

"I'm not hiding," said Clarice.

"Nor are we asking you too. But we're going to have to be cautious. We don't know what's going on, and we'd rather be safe than sorry."

"Thankyou," said Clarice, and District Director Vaughn nodded.

Everyone was nervous as they made their way, in a small convoy back to the hotel, but nothing happened. It was almost as if it had never happened, Clarice felt that everything seemed distorted, and twisted. Everything felt strange.

She felt safer with the taskforce next-door, but found that she was so tired, she climbed into bed, without changing her clothes, and fell into a pitiful sleep.

Note: Next chapter should be along shortly, hoped you enjoyed it, and please review!

Disclaimer: Hannibal is copyright to Thomas Harris; and the story, plus original characters to me. This story has been written on the understanding that you may read it and print it out; but you may not pass it off as your own, hire it out, or sell it for money. You also may not put it on your own or any other web page without my express written permission. Thankyou!

JetNoir