Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of this story and I do not make any money. It's written for entertainment purposes only. Thank you.

Read and review, have fun and forgive any potential mistakes; English is my second language, though I had help of a great beta. Sephaya, thank you.


Chapter 4

The first thing Starling noticed when she woke up was the silky softness surrounding her body, the warmth – and when she opened her eyes, the whiteness and light. The morning was the first sunny one after long weeks of only cloudiness and rain.

She closed her eyes briefly savoring the perfect moment of tranquility.

And then she panicked. How the hell had she got there? Where was there?

The last clear picture her mind presented to her was of Doctor Lecter's face and irrationally, she calmed down considerably just because she had seen his strange eyes watching her with a mix of curiosity and amusement – there was nothing fishy about it, even if it was exasperating.

She took a deep breath and last night came slowly back to her: his library, the case file, the fire and her drowsiness. She must have fallen asleep, maybe because of the wine? It was pretty strong stuff, Starling was certainly not used to it and after the emotional roller-coaster yesterday, anything stronger than lemonade could have had such an effect on her.

Well, it's not like the doctor would drug me. He was dangerous, no doubt about that, but he just did not strike her as a rapist who needed to resort to this sort of thing. Such behavior was firstly, against his gentlemanly nature, secondly, for a man with money, a silver tongue and good looks, not necessary.

Lecter had tried to wake her up, probably, because she remembered him talking.

"Agent Starling? There is a guest bedroom upstairs. Would you like to stay the night and hit the road tomorrow? Hmm, that would be for the best, I believe. I'd hate to force you into the car and on the road if you are tired."

She must have agreed but could not remember how she had ended up upstairs and asleep. Not to mention… Starling sat up, horrified, and looked down at her fancy pink and perfectly fitting night gown.

How embarrassing.

She fell back and closed her eyes. For the briefest of moments, Starling wished she could stay in the bedroom and never have to get up and face the whimsical psychiatrist somewhere downstairs. Where the hell did he get the night gown, anyway? Better not to think about that.

In few moments she was up again and ready to fight any unnecessarily bashful feelings, and the color of her sleepwear was the last thing on her mind. Lecter's female friends and their forgotten clothes were not her business.

Her travel bag was innocently resting in the corner of the room and she thanked God for small mercies, although she was not particularly happy with the doctor for taking this liberty as well. Ironically, she was more upset by him taking her keys and going to her car than by seeing her naked.

Huffing, she started to search for her toothbrush.

Starling finally wandered downstairs and found Lecter in the dining room. He was waiting for her with a steaming pot of coffee and a light breakfast – some sliced fruit and her favorite pastries. He was as perfect and immaculate as ever and was smiling pleasantly, though his eyes were sparkling with mischief. Today he had chosen to wear somewhat casual white slacks and a dark blue shirt. Over the backrest of his chair was slung a white blazer.

"Good morning, Agent Starling. I hope you had pleasant dreams." The doctor stood, motioned towards the table and winked as he pulled out her chair for her.

Yeah, amused as hell.

"I am so sorry, Doctor Lecter, I don't know what to say…" Her face was red, she was sure.

He laughed then, as if not able to contain himself any longer – it was an unexpected, completely honest, deep chuckle that echoed in the quiet dining room. "Then don't say anything. I take it as a compliment to my culinary skills, and to my hospitality, my dear. You must have been tired, no doubt."

"That's not really helpful, Doctor." Starling frowned.

"It happens to all of us. Come, sit and eat." The sparks were still glowing like bright little suns and Starling became annoyed. She would have to get back at him, somehow.

"Not to me," was her blunt answer. She could not afford it.

They exchanged glances – solemn, serious gazes – and Starling found in Lecter's eyes something even less expected than his laughter: understanding. She was not that surprised though – the good doctor was a perfectionist and for him, personal failures were unthinkable, just like for her.

"I am the one who should apologize, Agent Starling, I chose the wine. And… I did take liberties with you. I hope you are not offended that I wanted to make sure you would have a comfortable and undisturbed sleep."

Starling could not stop the second blush but nodded seriously. "Thank you. That was very thoughtful of you, sir. It seems you take it upon yourself to always see to everything. Right?"

Her tone were not meant to be so biting, alas a little of her irritation seeped through. Lecter turned his head slightly and his jaw set.

He remarked: "It seems so. I take it you have some objections, then."

"I'm grateful, but I do not appreciate people I am not well acquainted with going through my personal things."

"Duly noted."

"You are going to do it again if you decide you should." Starling observed – there was this light in his eyes that told her everything she needed to know. The doctor would not change his behavior just because she disliked his domineering side and he would do the same again and again; it was in his nature to act this way.

Macho. It was now even more understandable why Mr. Crawford had sent her and not some other male agent from the BSU. Lecter would have chewed him out and any cooperation would have turned into a pissing contest – if the doctor had decided to help them at all. With her, well. Whatever this between them was – not just a cooperation of two professionals, that was for sure – it was absolutely, delightfully exhilarating and it kept changing with every passing second.

Lecter grinned and moved his shoulders in what was the beginning of a shrug. He stopped himself as if not willing to act so casually and winked. Then he gave her a long considering glance and slowly revealed his perfect white teeth in a small smile, leaning closer to her. One of his elbows rested on the table, his other hand poured her a cup of coffee.

"Let's get more familiar with each other, then. Or are we going to be always this formal, Agent Starling?"

Starling didn't try to lean back in her chair and instead looked up, rising to the challenge. She was still a little startled at how close the doctor managed to get – she could see clearly the laugh lines around his eyes and the mocking one around the left corner of his mouth. He wore a lighter cologne today, less spicy, and it mixed pleasantly with the smell of his aftershave.

"You revel in formality, Doctor."

Lecter liked to keep his distance, and formalities were just one of the ways to achieve it; it was a defense mechanism Starling easily recognized – she herself used it often because only people close to her could do her any real harm. She almost flinched then when her mind offered her this thought. It was slowly becoming disturbing how many things they seemed to have in common. How easily she had fallen into the pattern of just chatting and bantering after their initial distaste for each other.

Do I have to have such a rapport with him of all people? Him, really?

Her mind then jumped to the absurd notion she had entertained last night; it felt like they were two predators of the same kind, maybe in a zoo, suddenly forced to occupy the same space – two individuals very much alike, yet very different. The initial growling and sniffling was successfully behind them, and the playful side of big cats was beginning to show. What next? Mating rituals?

She mentally slapped herself and watched instead as he put down the pot and poured a little bit of milk in her cup, stirring it in slow precise movements. No sugar.

"I just can't see you as the type to hang out with guys drinking beer, watching a football game and chatting about chicks." Starling needled him and smiled secretly at his reaction.

Doctor Lecter visibly shuddered and blinked as if trying to get rid of the words echoing through his head.

"Well, that is a rather disturbing mental imagine. I can make an exception and chat with you, though. From what I've gathered, Jack is hopeful that our cooperation won't be only a one-time occurrence. I would prefer to be on a more friendly basis with someone whom I could very well meet daily in the foreseeable future."

"Mr. Crawford can be as hopeful as he wishes. I guess it is up to us if this liaison works or not." Starling said and took the cup. "Thanks. How do you know how I like my coffee?"

"I noticed in the café." Lecter smiled and offered her the plate with pastries.

Starling took one silently, nodding her thanks. He must have been paying attention to her from the moment she had stepped into the café to notice that little fact about her. There was no way he could know from their short meeting when her coffee had been almost drunk. The thought of Lecter observing her without her knowledge was still chilling and she frowned. She should never forget that he was dangerous – felines had claws and teeth and their playful little scratching and biting could easily turn into a deadly fight.

When her eyes looked up, she noticed that Lecter must have been watching her bring the pastry to her mouth and now he was thoughtfully staring at her lips. He seemed to be closer than a second ago, if that was even possible. Had he been any other man, she would have thought he was thinking about kissing her. She always guessed when a guy wanted to bed her – her sixth sense worked wonders in more than her professional life – but Lecter was not one of these men.

She raised her eyebrows in question and swallowed.

"Have you eaten already?"

"Yeah." The doctor seemed unfazed by their proximity and that alone let Starling know he had not been contemplating such ridiculous thoughts. While he was a handsome man and she knew she was what most of males considered desirable, there wasn't any sexual attraction between them. There won't be any cubs from this union, dear zookeepers.

He grinned and leaned back reaching for his coffee. It was black and Starling guessed without sugar.

She ate slowly and the doctor sipped from his cup silently, focusing all of his attention on her. It felt like being under the microscope and she tried not to show any discomfort. She guessed that Lecter's only reason for doing this was to unnerve her. She did have a degree in psychology.

"What time is it?" Starling asked after few minutes of silence.

"Almost eight." He said, his gaze never leaving her.

"We should probably get going, right?"

"Right." Doctor Lecter winked and she, as always, pulled a face.

"You are not going to stop with that, are you?"

"No, it is too much fun."

"You know, Doctor Lecter, that's not really nice of you."

He smiled lazily and crossed his legs, leaning further back in his chair. "I have to inform you, Agent Starling, that I am far from being a nice person. Go ask old Jackie boy."

Starling sipped the coffee while the doctor watched, expecting her reaction. It was strong, just as she liked it – much stronger than most people would drink – and she hummed in delight at the bitter taste only slightly softened by the little bit of milk. Doctor Lecter was smiling broadly, looking smug and very much pleased with himself. He sure as hell wanted to impress her with his food and drinks.

"I've wondered how long it would take you to mention Mr. Crawford again." She nodded to herself then, glancing at him.

Lecter sat up straighter and stopped smiling. "Excuse me?"

"You know, in some ways, you and Mr. Crawford do fit in those lover's quarrel roles I've mentioned…"

"Now you are being downright cheeky, my dear."

Unfazed, Starling gave him slight shrug and took the last bite of her pastry. Doctor Lecter rose from the table and headed for the door.

"I'll get your bag, Agent Starling." He said stiffly. Grinning, she watched him disappear in the hall, and felt awfully smug herself. Payment is a bitch, Doc.

Starling slowly finished her coffee and then snatched one wedge of orange, making her way out of the dining room as well. The house was too quiet, as if totally empty, and she listened for Lecter's footsteps upstairs, but she couldn't hear anything except her own movements. She slowly wandered towards the wall opposite the front door, studying the decorative small paintings on it. Her attention was captured by large drawing almost hidden in the further corner – anyone casually walking through the hall could easily miss it. It seemed to be misplaced and yet strangely suited for that nook under the staircase.

There was a masterfully drawn picture of some old, and by the look of it European, manor, and she peered at the signature in the left bottom corner: HL. Did he draw it himself?

"Your briefcase is in the library, Agent Starling; you might wish to fetch it while I'll clean the table." His soft voice came from behind her and the agent swirled around to face him.

Lecter was serious and his face was devoid of expression. He didn't blink, simply looking at her, and even his eyes were unreadable. She noticed that, this time, he kept the proper distance between them; his playful mood had completely left him. Then his gaze traveled to the wall, something dark passing behind the mask, and he gave her a cold polite smile. "Then we are ready to go."

"Would you need help, Doctor?" She asked in the same soft tone. For some reason, her looking at the drawing had obviously upset him, and the mood shift and this ominous man standing before her now were making her uncomfortable – she was literally backed into the corner. Her instincts started screaming to do something.

Something preferably not jeopardizing the fragile – dare she think it? – trust that had somehow built between them. Starling was shocked by this revelation and yet knew it was true. She wouldn't have joked with him like this if she hadn't been sure she could get away with it and she had the feeling that a very small number of people had the dubious honor of seeing so many sides of the good doctor, let alone in such a short period of time.

He could not hide from her any less than she could hide from him, despite how disconcerting, how terrifying it was. She had observed enough to know he was damaged and hurt and nobody had ever cared – and she understood what it felt like, to be left alone. How eerily they seemed to share the worst of human experience. They understood each other, in some ways, and with this understanding came empathy, and with empathy, trust. Being wary of Lecter was wise, trusting someone who was, or at least seemed to be, of the same sort was almost instinctual. Starling was wise enough to still be wary of him, but her instincts had yet to be proved wrong.

"That won't be necessary, thank you."

The moment stretched and Starling examined Lecter's rigid posture. The best approach would be to retreat. So she moved, stepping around him. He mirrored her movements, his body angled towards her. She heard him take a deep breath and when she glanced up, she saw him relaxing slightly. Those annoying sparks returned to his eyes.

"It won't take long, Agent Starling."

"Alright, Doctor. I'll wait outside."

"You can wait in the car, if you wish, my dear." Lecter reached into his pocket for his car keys. "It's parked in the front of the house. I'll be there in a minute."

"Yeah, ok." Starling gingerly held out her hand. It must have been only her imagination, but she could swear she had felt him brush her palm and fingers with the tips of his when he had dropped the keys in her hand.

"Ah, and here are yours." The doctor added and fished out her car keys, his face stretching in a broad playful grin. This time, he left the keys laying on his palm and Starling had to take them, unintentionally touching the warm skin of his hand.

"Why, thanks, Doctor. That's really generous." Bastard. Yet she was inexplicably glad to see him back to the teasing persona which was only one of the many he had stashed in his mental closet to use and present to the world. God knows she had several of different Starlings in hers.


Lecter hadn't wasted any time in cleaning when he had left Starling in the dining room. His feet had carried him to the guest bedroom where he had found her travel bag on the bed. It had been packed and ready, though he had noticed that the silky night gown had been carefully folded next to it.

This wouldn't do. He had clicked his tongue and with only a brief sniff at the fabric, he had gleefully packed it inside. He knew Starling disliked the color pink and was very much looking forward to her reaction when she would find it among her things. Oh, she would bristle! And he would love it.

On light feet he had taken it downstairs and outside, putting it in the trunk of his car.

He was more than pleased by his little cub's reactions that morning and he reveled not in the formalities – as Starling had guessed correctly in every other situation with anyone else – but in the easy rapport they had so effortlessly shared. The process he had decided to undertake was a very delicate one. In the end, and his mind eagerly offered him the mental picture, he might even reveal more of his true nature to the young agent, but he had decided that only bits and pieces were enough for now.

He had a suspicion that the perceptive little birdie had already guessed much more than he was willing to show. She had glimpsed some of his inner demons in the hall.

It did not happen often, this slip of control he had exhibited, and the good doctor was rightfully upset, slightly embarrassed and angry at himself. He would have to take down the picture after returning, and store it in the attic. It was the one drawing of his childhood home he hadn't wished to relinquish entirely and yet when Starling had been examining it, he had immediately known it would have to go.

It brought back unpleasant memories, a shadow he did not want Starling to see yet. While he was not willing to forget the past, he knew he needed to let it rest, if he had any wish for a future. Lecter was no fool and was aware of his own weaknesses. For the briefest moment, only a heartbeat, he had thought of his sister and gotten lost in the memory of one cold winter day. It had taken the smell of the girl, this unsuspecting little lioness, to bring him back into the present.

He marveled at her scent; Starling smelled of summer and it was pleasantly wafting through the entire house now, somehow dispersing the feel of winter that would always creep into any place he occupied. She would never know, but of course the good doctor was aware of the 'soulless' condition of both his office and home, well aware of the coldness seeping from the walls and floors. It perfectly reflected the inside of its owner. Nobody else had noticed and commented on it, though; only his fearless little lion cub had.

And what pleased the doctor even more? Starling had not flinched or retreaded back into her initial distrust and fear even after glimpsing the unpleasant nothingness inside of him. Lecter was rather surprised by the attempt to bring him back. Her change of tone, the shimmer in her eyes, the unconsciously submissive posture – all of it was telling. Starling had started to see the traits they had in common and as a lost young one, naturally started to accept his company, extending her sympathy and understanding.

But could you truly understand?

He chuckled and took one last look at his spotless kitchen. He doubted that, although Starling was obviously determined to keep surprising him. They were now in the process of sizing each other up and it was in some ways very liberating – while others knew him as an exceptional conversationalist, with Starling he felt he could talk more freely, the bantering was as easy as breathing. He had enjoyed their teasing thoroughly and hoped for much more verbal sparring to come. Not many people had the wits and gall to keep up with him.

She had started to trust him, no matter how unbelievable it was. It was very different from the so-called trust he had from his vain patients and the outside world. That held no meaning for Lecter; it was easily disposable and replaceable, only an illusion built up on a lie. Normal people expect not to be harmed by their doctors, colleagues at work or strangers in the street and it shocks them when it does happen. Starling expected it, the outcome of years and years of disappointment and hurt. But with him? She was well aware that he was dangerous – oh, he knew that she knew – and yet she chose to believe no harm would befall her in his presence even if he could so, so easily harm her. He hadn't been the recipient of something like this for years; the simple, innocent confidence of someone who looked and saw, who looked and did not turn away.

Lecter made his way outside, but stilled. Correction: he had never had this kind of trust. She had not shied away from him knowing that he was full of holes, bent and twisted. She was cautious, but not afraid and he hadn't given her any reason to be disgusted. Yet.

He continued, carefully locking the door and breathing in the cold, crisp morning air. His eyes traveled towards his car and Agent Starling sitting inside. He watched amused as she fiddled with the radio, and hoped that she would choose some tolerable station.

She probably felt his gaze, because she looked up, her eyes immediately finding his, and waved at him. She muttered something that was not meant for Lecter to know, but he managed to read her lips: Get your lazy ass over here, Doc. That was what she had said and Lecter was not at all offended – he had to fight down laughter as he, with a spring in his step, obeyed Starling's order.

"Ready to discover the beauties of small fishing towns, my dear Agent?" The doctor asked, fastening his seatbelt.

"Yeah, I'm sure you just can't wait to see Reedville with your own eyes. So, hit the road, Doctor." Starling looked at him out of the corner of her eyes, half-grinning. Her smell enfolded him, coaxing a much warmer response than the doctor thought possible – for the second time that morning, he chuckled.

"Aren't you a little domineering, little Starling?"

"You're the one to talk."

Shaking his head, he put the car in drive.

He knew one thing; they had made a connection, he was certain now and slightly consternated by the fact that he had not known immediately, and he knew he would treasure it fiercely. Lecter was not the kind of man to let go once he had something in his grasp. Starling had put herself there, right next to him, and he would very much like to keep her precisely where she was.

The good doctor flinched a little when Starling, asking with her gaze first, switched on the radio and an upbeat rock song begun to play. He was now in unfamiliar territory, he needed to proceed with caution, learn with every step taken forward.

He felt his excitement building, when Starling started to hum along the lyrics. She had a pleasant voice, untrained, but very likable, and her uncensored action showed him that she was feeling comfortable in his presence. He grinned and relaxed in the seat. He didn't dare predict where this would lead, how it could develop, but he was so looking forward to it.

It is important to always try new things, isn't it?