(VIRGINIA, AUGUST 12)

Clarice showered and dressed, still disappointed at last night's lack of relevance to the case but excited to go to Baltimore. She entered Dee's room and smiled at the sight of her, sprawled across the bed in the same clothes as the night before, make-up smeared across her face and a cocktail umbrella in her hair.

"Get up you drunk!" Clarice said, ruffling Ardelia's curled hair.

"Get lost." she groaned.

Clarice jogged downstairs wearing her gold earrings and smelling of her lavender sleep aid, dressed in a little black suit. She had her handbag packed and her makeup and hair done in twenty minutes, when she went to at a little shop where she had made arrangements for some tapes, then to Quantico to meet Crawford and crawl her way to Baltimore.

She sat where she always did, in front of Crawford's desk whilst he sat with that plain look on his face. That tedious, plain expression.

"It was too crowded in there anyway," she was saying, "if Mimi was there, I wouldn't have seen her."

"Well we can't go back there with all guns blazing and arrest everyone, Starling, Mimi will run and hide."

"What else can we do?"

"What about Lecter?" he asked and Clarice seemed to smile for a second but shunned it hastily. "Has he told you all that he can?"

"There's no limit to Dr Lecter's knowledge. He can always say more."

He sat forward and sighed, running his hand back through his hair. He seemed disappointed. "You better get down there then, I'll deal with Chilton again. He's a real pain in the..."

She laughed. "It's okay, Sir. I know."

She couldn't help but smile as she drove to Baltimore, she knew that the Doctor would be pleased with her. For a moment, she forgot about the case and focused solely on seeing him and hearing his voice again, and she forced her FBI Agent-attitude to overcome it and convince herself that she needed information. It was pointless though. She was not met by Chilton at the asylum and questioned whether Crawford had given him a hard time, but she didn't care about him, especially not today. Instead of Chilton, she met Barney down in the dungeon.

"Hi, Barney!" she said, entering the orderly office.

"Hi, Clarice." He said, a little worried at her reaction to him addressing her by her first name but she didn't seem to mind, her smile actually widened. "You know what day it is, don't you?"

"Yeah. Would you check this for me?" she asked, handing him a brown parcel.

He turned the parcel in his hands, checking the feel of the contents and then replacing it. "Seems all right to me."

"Thanks, Barney."

She almost ran through the gates and down to the Doctor's cell, where he was waiting for her, sitting up in his chair, as elegant as ever. "Good morning, Clarice."

She was unable to tame her toothy smile. "Happy birthday, Dr Lecter."

He smiled and nodded sincerely. "Thank you, Clarice."

He stood and walked to the glass smoothly and Clarice felt the rush of excitement and jumpy urge that she would always feel when he stood opposite her. If only that glass wasn't there…

"Did you think that I wouldn't know?"

"Yes, I am quite surprised."

She looked at her shoes and moved her feet a little. "I... uh, I have something for you."

"You do?"

"Yes." she whispered, a nervous half smile lingering on her face.

"Send it through then."

She placed the newly sealed brown parcel in the food carrier and pushed it through, watching his every move. He took it and carefully opened it, placing the brown paper aside on his desk with unusual care and feeling the thick book in his hands, running his finger over the words which were indented gold into the soft, brown paper and cradling it as if it were a new-born child.

"Dante Alighieri's Divine Comedy…" he whispered, his eyes still stuck on the book in his hands.

She watched him, confused at his silence and worried that he was somehow offended. He looked up at her, the book resting in his hands, voice silenced and eyes calmed. His gaze hummed a deep tune at her.

"I knew that you didn't have it and that you liked Dante…" She said, breaking the silence. Dr Lecter looked back down at the book, hands running over the cover again. "I'm sorry if you don't like it, Doctor, I just-"

He collected himself and looked up. "Forgive my silence, Clarice. I love it, thank you."

"I'm glad." she said proudly, sitting on her chair. "How old are you now?"

"Forty-three."

"You don't look a day over twenty-one."

He smiled and put his book aside. "You are too kind to me, Clarice."

Her eyes felt lazy and she suddenly wanted to close them and fall into his arms. The glass, the glass… There were no words from her so Dr Lecter spoke again with his metallic rasp.

"Now, tell me, did your visit to Zeon help you?"

She breathed and straightened up. "Not really. I didn't see anyone who looked like a serial killer."

"How does a serial killer look, Clarice?"

"You know what I mean, I didn't see anyone who could have been a Mimi."

"What did you see?"

"Not much. It was pretty crowded in there. As we suspected they were all young, all getting wasted."

"Were there any viewing balconies?"

She nodded. "Yes, there was a space where you could sit and watch the dancing."

"It's a start."

Curiosity lingered in her eyes. "Have you ever been to a night club, Doctor?"

"Many years ago, yes. I can't say that the experience was delightful."

"Why did you go then?"

He shrugged. "I was entertaining."

"Entertaining whom?"

Dr Lecter seemed to stop at her interest. He blinked once, as fast as the flash of a camera and raised his sleek head smoothly like a snake.

"Friends." he said.

"Oh." She said, attempting to keep all emotions from showing and nodding. Her shy smile returned. "That reminds me, Doctor. I have something else for you. We have to be quiet though..."

He watched her as she opened her bag and shuffled around in it, looking for something. She sighed, slid off the chair and sat crossed-legged in front of the glass, searching through her bag furiously. Finally, she brought out a tiny electronic device which fit handsomely in the palm of her hand, shining black from the lights above. She looked up at him with eager eyes.

"You like the Goldberg Variations, don't you?"

"They're my favourite."

"I thought so." She said, pressing a tiny play button proudly.

Dr Lecter closed his eyes and tilted his head back, letting himself swim in the music and be engulfed by the beautiful sounds of Goldberg's Variation three. His mind swirled in the notes and he breathed the melody, as if it were some soul-saving drug. His cell vanished and he was bathing in it, the notes of the tune swirling around his body, a misty aura of the past, levitating and spinning him. His head swayed gracefully, only very slightly and slowly, his eyes calmly closed and Clarice was watching. For a while he forgot that she was there and when he looked back at her, she was looking up at him with astonishment, her mouth open and eyes peculiarly shiny. His music ended.

There was a new note in his voice, a strange sort of whisper, calm like the fold of a wave relaxing back into the sea. "Thank you so much, Clarice."

"No problem, Doc." She said, looking down at her lap and smiling when she had said it. "Want to hear some of mine?"

"Of course. What genre is it?"

"Mostly Motown. Come and sit down here so that it isn't too loud." She said, smiling to herself when she looked down at the music player.

He considered her for a moment and stood, smoothly approaching the glass and sitting opposite her, his knees touching the glass when he crossed his legs as hers did. From a long distance where size and mind are distorted and the glass invisible, they could be mistaken for two children playing patty-cake, a world of serial murders and isolation unknown to them.

"This one's called I can't help myself. It's one of my favourites."

She pressed play and pink flushed her cheeks when the notes of the Motown classic started. Like the Doctor had, she forgot herself and closed her eyes, moving merrily and smiling to herself, not caring that the Doctor was there. He smiled with amusement and watched her, so absorbed that he almost forgot to store flashes of her happiness in his memory. She opened her eyes but didn't stop moving, bouncing happily. When the chorus arrived, she could not contain herself and looked to Dr Lecter.

"Sugar pie, honey bunch! You know that I love you! I can't help myself, I love you and nobody else!" she sang out, swaying rhythmically and smiling the whole time, looking into Dr Lecter's ignited sparks.

Dr Lecter heard himself chuckle at her and remembered how long it had been since he had laughed, he savoured the sound of her voice and watched her lips, how they moved and the smile that would stretch across them when she danced, his heart fluttered like a butterfly's wings. Realising her volume, Clarice looked down the hall to see if she had stirred anyone but there was only the sound of the song playing sweetly in her lap. She felt a little silly but didn't care when she saw the smile on Dr Lecter's face.

"I'm sorry, Dr Lecter."

"That's quite all right, Clarice. If the others were to hear you they would be far from upset."

"Ha, thanks."

"I didn't know that you were fond of Motown."

She nodded. "Oh, I am. I love Motown. And soul."

"May I ask why?"

"It just makes me happy." she said with a shrug of her shoulder.

The song ended and Clarice looked down at her music-player, her cheeks still pink and the tune still playing in her head, not an ounce of regret apparent.

"Show me another, Clarice."

She smiled widely. "This one's called Heaven must have sent you."

She showed him a few more of her favourite songs whilst they talked about Motown. Dr Lecter tried to remember the lyrics to some of them and succeeded with surprisingly accurate recall. She played him his Goldberg Variations twice more and talked over it. Dr Lecter was almost overcome with satisfaction at hearing two of his favourite sounds at the same time and gazed into Clarice's eyes, his stare humming at her again. Before she knew it, she had been there for an hour and a half.

She looked at her watch. "I bet Barney's wondering where I've got to, I've been here so long."

"Barney won't mind, he understands our situation."

"And what situation is that?" she asked. Her eyes shined and yearned for an answer.

He felt a tooth with his tongue and tilted his head, travelling from her eyes for a moment and then back again. Humming, humming. "I'm not quite sure of how to define it, Clarice."

She spoke in a whisper, a calm sadness escaping her lips with it. "Me neither, Doctor."

"Don't you want to discuss the case now, Clarice? You have to give old Jackie boy something from today."

She looked away from the doctor lazily and stared at the cell floor beside him. "Yeah. Yes... Where shall I go from here, Doctor?"

"I'm not sure of how to direct you without any new information. I can only tell you that there is a link there, Clarice. There's almost always a link between the victims of a serial killer, as you know, and there is certainly one here. Now, it's just a case of finding it."

"But how? I don't know what else I can do."

"Don't give up on Zeon. It is your only strong link between the victims and one visit may not be enough, maybe you should go back."

"Right," she whispered, dreading revising the place. "I would stay longer but I have to get back to Quantico."

His voice was a fragile whisper that may have evaporated into the cold air if Clarice wasn't listening so intently. "That means a lot to me."

"It does?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"The only time I get visitors is when people want to… look at me." he explained, holding back any feeling or emotion which would escape with his words, holding them back like the orderlies held him back from that nurse all those years ago. "Your company is comforting."

Her gaze was at the floor again and what he said made her frown, she thought about it and looked up at him with sadness hanging over her face like a veil. "I don't know what to say, or what advice to give you." She looked down at the grey floor again. "All I can tell you is that I would never just look at you like you're some sort of animal."

"The term that they prefer is Monster."

Her head darted up to him as if something had surprised her. "You're not a monster."

He forgot himself and his eyes softened. "I'm not?"

"No."

"Thank you."

There was a silence then. A peaceful silence, something which neither of them had experienced often. Understanding and empathy hung in the air, holding the two of them there at that moment and so strong that it could have been visible. It felt, for a second, like the glass wasn't there at all.

Clarice dragged herself away from his eyes and stood, deliberately leaning on the glass while she straightened herself out. Dr Lecter stood. She stood up straight, hand still on the glass and looked at him. There were no words.

"Goodbye, Clarice." he said.

Just as she was ready to take her hand away, he took the tiniest step closer to her and placed his hand adjacent, his fingers straight and spread, eyes always on her face. She spread hers out and closed her eyes, hoping to draw the illusion of touching his hand. If only that glass really wasn't there. She thought about Barney watching them and took her hand away and he took his away at the same time. Dr Lecter was overcome with something which he couldn't identify, something greater than pleasure of comfort, but it was glorious.

"You should start reading that today." She said unusually, before forcing herself to walk away.

For the short journey towards the orderly office, she held a heavy sadness which wanted to pull her back, but she couldn't. She had already let herself get too involved.

Back at her home in Arlington, Ardelia was out on a date, so she had the whole house to herself. It was a big house and it didn't make Clarice feel comfortable when she was in it alone. She called Crawford and informed him that Dr Lecter was no help, well, not in the case anyway. She didn't tell Crawford the rest. She sat on the sofa in the shared living room with a heavy glass of Jack Daniels sparkling in her hand.

Her mind travelled to the good Doctor and whether he had opened the book yet. The book, Dante Alighieri's Divine Comedy, had set her back 60 dollars, but what she really wanted him to find was worth more than money…

Dr Lecter lay in his cot, his fingers locked over his stomach and his mind travelling. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, stood and walked over to his table. He picked up his thick book and ran his fingers over the words as he had when he first unwrapped it. He lifted the paper cover carefully, as delicately as you would stroke a baby's hand. He considered the envelope that sat there for a second and sat his desk, angling himself so that the cameras would be unable to see what he was doing and picked the envelope up, again, so delicately.

A whiff of lavender caressed his senses as he opened it and took out the letter, written on soft paper and in Clarice's neat handwriting.

"To Dr Lecter,

Happy birthday! I hope that you like your present. I would have got you a card but I couldn't find any on soft paper so I had to settle with this note. I hope you don't mind. As well as wishing you a happy birthday, I would like to thank you for your help with Mimi, I don't know what I would do without you. Thank you for helping me with the other things too. The lambs have been a lot quieter recently. Thanks a lot, Doc.

Love, Clarice."

He sat stunned for a moment, cradling the paper in his hands and lingering over Clarice's scent. She sent him love. She wouldn't know what to do without him. The realization that Clarice had sent him the note and that Clarice had written its contents hung in the back of his mind for hours, it hung with a buzz, and it held a sense of disbelief and accomplishment which filled every inch of him. Her attitude towards him uplifted him, made him feel like himself, not like a monster.

That night, he lay with the note folded in his hands, sometimes he held it to his chest, wishing that it was Clarice laying there instead. He lay there hours, revisiting the words that Clarice had spoken to him and her singing and dancing, trying desperately to hear that pure West Virginia accent once more in his head, trying to hear the words Sugar pie honey bunch, you know that I love you.

When he did drift off into a slumber, it was with Clarice's note tucked securely in his hand and her portrait facing him, watching over him as he slept in silence.

A/N: I know, I know, again with the fluff, but I love it! I did change Dr Lecter's birthday for this chapter, but I think it fits in well here! Let me know what you think :) You can hear the song at the link provided on my profile page if you like. I know that not everyone approves of using songs or lyrics in fics but this idea came to me and it's so sweet that I just couldn't ignore it!