AUTHOR'S NOTES: This chapter has been going on in my head since the first chapter but I've been working on it to get it exactly how I wanted it.

Also, this goes into something I mentioned at the end of chapter 13 about how Kelly feels about the death of her mother. So this is some pretty emotional stuff.

Now given the nature of this chapter, I have to issue a drool-warning. I know that if you're familiar at all with the character of Hannibal Lecter you know the kind of cuisine usually associated with him. This is much more mundane and since it is me writing this, food descriptions are pretty detailed.

Chapter 2 Food for Thought

The second time Kelly met with Dr. Hannibal Lecter she was incredibly surprised when the psychiatrist instructed her to join him in the dining room of his home rather than his office.

When she arrived, Kelly was nearly overwhelmed by the aromas of garlic, ginger, onions, and chile peppers. But underneath the crushing waves of savory scents were sweeter notes of chocolate and cinnamon and something citrusy. For once, Kelly was grateful she sitting down as she practically swooned at the enticing smells.

"You seemed anxious at our first meeting," Lecter said with a smile as he led his patient into the dining room. "I thought this would help put you more at ease."

Kelly wasn't sure how to respond to that but she followed the doctor and took a spot at the table. "Kind of unconventional, isn't it? Inviting a patient over for dinner?"

Lecter smiled again as he went into the kitchen and came back with two plates. Dodging the query for a moment, he set a plate of salad down at his place and Kelly's as he spoke. "Fresh spinach salad with my own homemade bacon, caramelized cippolini onions and shallots, and soft boiled eggs."

Picking up her fork, Kelly eyed the psychiatrist as she took a bite of salad, closing here eyes for a brief moment as she remembered having dinner with NCIS Director Jenny Sheppard in a DC bistro a few years ago. "This is probably one of the best spinach salads I have ever eaten, Doctor," she said, finally, after a few more bites.

Picking up his own knife and fork after pouring two glasses of wine and taking a seat across from Kelly, Lecter began to eat as well. "Thank you. And in answer to your question, I have always felt that therapy should be tailored to each patient's needs." After a sip of his wine, he added, "I believe you need less of a clinical, confrontational approach in lieu of something more casual."

Understanding immediately, Kelly nodded and smiled as she stated, "I don't need a psychiatrist… I need a friend."

"Precisely," Lecter replied, smiling back. He was very much starting to like Kelly Gibbs and he could tell that she was starting to open up just a bit more. When the two had finished their salads, he rose and took both plates to the kitchen, returning with two deep bowls filled with broth, thin noodles, thinly sliced shitake mushrooms, and what looked like crawfish tail meat.

"Ramen noodles," Kelly said, holding back her laughter as the soup was placed before her. After one bite, however, she looked up. "Okay that is definitely NOT ramen."

"Hand pulled Chinese-style noodles with langoustines and mushrooms cooked in fish broth," Lecter informed her, sitting down again. "When we spoke last you told me about your cousin and your father. You mentioned very little about your mother."

Kelly sipped a spoonful of broth thoughtfully as she let the floodgate of memories open up. On the surface, she gave the impression that memories of her mother's life and death were few. But the truth was that Kelly remembered everything about her mother, right down to the stories about her mother's life and childhood. Chewing a bite of the noodles, she considered what to say. "Her name was Shannon. She grew up in a small town in Pennsylvania—Stillwater. Dad lived in the same town. Mom and Dad met, fell in love, got married… Mom mostly took care of me since Dad was still in the Marines."

Sensing there was much more to the history, Lecter decided to chance pushing the issue just a little further. "She died in a car accident, yes?"

"Yes," Kelly replied, shortly, the memories and thoughts getting walled away once more. Finishing her soup, she said, flatly, "I don't want to talk about her. I-I can't…" She couldn't stop the catch in her voice, the flood of memories threatening to overwhelm her… But there was one memory in particular she couldn't shut away—the one part of her mother's death that haunted her every single day. "I… I killed her."

It wasn't often that Hannibal Lecter heard a patient say something to make him pause. Between his own past, his patients and his own… proclivities, he was not an easy man to surprise. But hearing this young woman claim that she killed her own mother caught him off guard. And while it would help explain why Kelly didn't like talking about her mother, something wasn't adding up. "You were only a child. If your mother died in a car accident, how were you responsible?"

Kelly pushed the empty soup bowl to the side before resting her elbows on the table before rubbing her neck with both hands. After a moment, she let out a deep sigh. "Dad was deployed. Mom, Harry, and I went to Camp Pendleton out in California to see him off. The three of us were in Oceanside when Mom saw this drug dealer killing another Marine. She testified against him and we were under NIS protection."

While he was unsure about how this tied into being responsible for her mother's death, Lecter was not willing to question Kelly. She was really starting to open up and he was certain that this was why the young woman felt like so much of the world rested on her shoulders. "That must have been hard for you."

"It was," Kelly admitted, nodding. "I was 8—almost 9… I wanted to go out and play… see my friends…" It was a moment before she realized that tears were falling down her cheeks. Slowly wiping them away, she went on. "But we couldn't leave the house. Agents brought by food and supplies… I hated it. I was going stir-crazy and I started throwing tantrums… I thought if I caused enough trouble Mom would give in and let us go somewhere… And the day she died… she did."

Studying Kelly intently, Lecter could see the events of the accident playing out in his mind. But he could tell that this was something Kelly Gibbs had never told anyone… not even her father. "Where did you go?" he asked, gently. The key at this point was to keep Kelly talking—allow her to get the full story out so that she could work on her other issues.

A sad smile crossed Kelly's face as she remembered that day. "The library. Mom let me pick out a couple books and movies. On the way home, the NIS agent driving the van was shot in the head. Mom died in the crash, I was hurt… I always wondered if that's why… Why I started developing the muscle disorder. Some kind of punishment, you know? If it hadn't been for me, Mom would still be alive."

Lecter leaned back in his chair as he considered the young woman's words. The accident was certainly not her fault but he wondered if anyone had ever actually told her that. "Kelly?" Waiting until she was looking him in the eye, Lecter said, very simply, "You did not kill your mother." Seeing her about to argue, he continued. "You had no way of knowing what would happen. You were a child. Nothing that happened that day was your fault."

"I never told anyone about what happened that day," Kelly explained, trying to pull herself back together. "When I was a kid Dad always asked why we'd been out and I always told him I didn't remember. I think he knew but he was waiting for me to tell him." Wiping her eyes again, she was caught off guard by her stomach rumbling. With a dry smile, she said, "So… just soup and salad or was dinner included?"

As a culinary enthusiast, Lecter understood the comforting and healing abilities of food. Whether simple or complex, certain flavors had the ability to trigger memories and feelings. Smiling, he stood, wordlessly taking the soup bowls to the kitchen. After a brief clean up while he heated the gas grill, he placed the steaks he'd prepared on the hot metal, pleased at the sizzling sound that ensued.

While the meat cooked, he fried the cubed potatoes in duck fat and carefully steamed the prepared vegetables. While this was far less grand a meal as he usually prepared, Lecter had correctly presumed that Kelly Gibbs would prefer a simpler menu and in an effort to get her more comfortable with the idea of therapy, he'd decided to return to the basics with his recipes.

In the dining room, Kelly caught the aromas of grilling beef and she remembered being snowed in when she was 11. The power was out and since it was so cold, her father had kept a fire going in the fireplace 24/7. For dinner, he'd cooked steaks on a grill rack set over the flames. 'Cowboy style', he'd called it. When dinner arrived, Kelly forced herself to wait just a moment so as to take in all the aromas.

"Grilled sirloin of beef marinated in soy sauce, Worcestershire sauce, apple cider, garlic, and red pepper," Lecter said, sitting down once more. "Served with red potatoes pan fried in duck fat and locally grown asparagus." After a moment or two he said, "Tell me more about your mother."

Kelly couldn't answer right away as she was savoring her first bite of steak. It was strange… each dish tonight made her think and even remember things she hadn't even realized she'd forgotten. The flavor of the beef made her think of the one and only time her mother had attempted to make stir fry—though her mom's version hadn't been as tender and flavorful as this. Swallowing, she said, "She was the yin to Dad's yang. Dad was hotheaded and quick to react when he was younger. Mom was thoughtful and careful. She cooled him off. After she died, Dad started acting more like her."

As he ate and listened to Kelly talk—providing encouragement as needed—Lecter was indeed starting to understand why she felt her family depended on her. With the death of Shannon Gibbs, Kelly had felt she had to step into her mother's shoes. "You've tried to emulate her," Lecter concluded, nodding knowingly. "Is it possible that is why you have always put others before yourself? Because that is what your mother would have done?"

Eating quietly for a while, Kelly thought about that. It was true… Thinking about how much she had tried to be like her mother, a big part of that had been guilt. "Not just Mom," Kelly replied, pensively. "Dad, too. And even Harry, now that I think about it." As she finished eating, she added, "Extreme selflessness seems to be a family trait."

"Never look at altruism as a curse," Lecter admonished, gently. "There is far too little of it in the world." As he stood, clearing the dishes, he eyed Kelly as he asked, "Would you care for dessert?"

Kelly grinned, knowingly, as she glanced towards the kitchen. "Absolutely. I'm especially curious what that chocolate aroma was coming from."

This time it was Lecter's turn to smile knowingly and without a word he went into his culinary domain and returned with a tray upon which were two bowls containing a trio of sorbets and tiny cups of espresso. "Something you should know—at my table, always expect the unexpected," he said, serving Kelly.

Picking up her spook, Kelly took a very small taste of each sorbet, letting each flavor coat her tongue. "Black current…Lychee… Fig," she said, impressed. "Very different."

"You have a very advanced palate," Lecter observed, approvingly. "I'm surprised."

Kelly shrugged the comment off as she took another bite of the fig sorbet. "I may have simple tastes, Doctor, but that doesn't make me ignorant."

That was certainly true, Lecter had to admit. "Of course. Forgive me." Still, he watched as Kelly sipped the espresso. The beans were from a small, specialty shop and he roasted and ground them himself to keep the flavor exactly as he preferred it.

"Chocolate, cinnamon, and orange," Kelly noted, smelling the coffee. "I would not have expected that. My compliments." After another sip, she raised her eyebrows in approval. "I can honestly say that I have never had espresso straight up before. Usually I have to dose it up with cream and sugar."

"With proper roasting, grinding, and brewing," Lecter explained. "—the beans' natural sweetness can become more pronounced."

"Well, I am going to have to be more selective of where I get my coffee in the future," Kelly said with a grin. After a while, she added, "And I have to thank you. Not just for a wonderful meal, but… for helping me talk about…"

Lecter said nothing as he studied his patient. Part of him was trying very hard not to forget that fact as a bigger part of him saw Kelly Gibbs as something very rare—a potential friend. It was uncommon for him to find someone he admired, but Kelly had many of the virtues he prized and possessed a personal strength that was not found very often. But personal feeling aside, Lecter had to stay objective and professional. "I am glad I could help." A question rose in his mind, especially as he noticed how much more relaxed Kelly seemed to be. "Should I schedule our next session here or at my office?"

The question caught Kelly off guard and she had to think for a moment. This had been one of the best meals she'd ever had, although she did get the sensation that Dr. Lecter had not been challenged very much by the very basic menu. "I wouldn't want to impose by having you do all this cooking again," she started but stopped when the psychiatrist waved the protest away.

"I simply wanted you to be more comfortable with our conversations," Lecter insisted, earnestly. "My kitchen is always open." Thinking on the issue, he went on. "And perhaps next time you might be feeling more adventurous?"

"I think I will be," Kelly agreed, nodding. "Okay. Dinner it is."

Lecter smiled and made a mental note with the date and time for their next session.