ALL OR NOTHING

Touched by this unabashed display of emotion, Clarice wrapped her arms around her lover, nuzzling her face against his neck as she placed kisses along his throat. She smiled; her lips were buzzing not only from the still present sensation of his kiss, but the energetic tapping of his excited pulse against her lips.

For his part, Hannibal was in no hurry to break this intimate embrace, still clinging to Clarice, his body internally joined with hers. Trembling, overcome by the raw power of the experience he was surprised by the intensity of the emotions churning within as he concentrated on her lips, at his neck, at her legs, wrapped around his thighs. Though her long limbs were now relaxed, falling open as he rested between, his heart thumped heavily as he remembered the way they'd earlier encircled his body, pulling him close even as her hips drove upward, forcing his body deeper within.

They held each other, locked in the embrace of lovers long denied, grasping one another until sleep overcame them. Over the next several hours, the scene played itself out over and over again, until the rays of the morning sun illuminated the room. Hannibal had been awake at least an hour before Clarice, propping himself on an elbow as he watched her sleep, holding onto the question he had longed for so many years to ask. When finally his love opened her eyes and smiled, he wasted no time, kissing her sweetly as she stirred, he whispered against her lips.

"Come away with me, Clarice. Stay with me, forever. Marry me, my Love."

Her eyes barely open, her mind still balancing between sleep and sentience she kissed his abdomen. Returning her cheek to its resting place on his chest centered above the beat of his heart, Clarice whispered in return, "Yes."

That was it. No thinking about it, no considering the situation, no worries. She was in love with Hannibal Lecter and this time, consequences be damned she wouldn't let him go.

"Will you be back soon?" she asked with no small share of worry as she stroked his cheeks and placed tender kisses on his lips and chin.

Hannibal settled his hands on the small of her back, his digits widely splayed, his thumbs gently stroking along the path of her spine. Within his mind, several paths, too, ran concurrently as he assessed his plan, considering windage, distance, trajectory, and elevation in regards to his chosen location. This was but a mild concern. The major concern was the potential for that which he could not prepare, the possibility of a headshot. The soundtrack to his planning: Barber's Adagio for Strings.

"As soon as I am able, Clarice. There are preparations that must be made if the transition is to be made smoothly, successfully. It isn't enough that you disappear; we'll have to remove all doubt from their minds. They'll never stop looking unless they are convinced there is nothing for which to look. They will have to believe I've killed you, my Love. Then, they will have to kill me."

Panic flooded Clarice.

How can he be so calm? They'll shoot to kill. There's no way to guarantee…

"What if something goes wrong? Are you sure? We could just leave…they wouldn't look for long."

Hannibal pulled her tightly to him; their hips pressed together, slightly swaying as he spoke.

"Your so-called friends at the Bureau might not, but your true friend Ardelia will not be as easily dissuaded. We may have to take that into consideration."

He was right. Ardelia would never give up. Not if there was any hope. Hannibal's plan was risky, not for Clarice, she would be safe, but for him…he was risking all, all for her.

"You're right…but you always are, aren't you?"

Hannibal slipped his hand along her neck, cupping her jaw as he stroked his thumb along cheek, kissing the symbol of her courage, the gunpowder imbedded within.

"Always, Clarice."

"Even with an FBI sniper's round headed toward you?"

"Yes, even then, my Love."

She pressed a key into his palm and clasped her hands around his, holding on tight.

"You come back to me…no matter what. Whatever you have to do...however you have to do it, Hannibal, promise that you'll come back to me."

Seeing the concern, the worry for him in her eyes, he touched it forehead to hers and spoke softly, "Nothing will keep me from you, Clarice. That is a promise."

With a kiss, he slipped out the door.

It was difficult for Clarice to watch Hannibal leave the duplex, but if they were to escape together, he had preparations to make. For her part, Clarice would have to return to work. She'd thought about giving notice, but without a good reason it would send red flags and she didn't want the surveillance to increase. Anything out of the ordinary, anything at all, would draw attention.

Hannibal as usual had a much better idea and if his detailed strategy were executed to perfection, if all of the moving pieces aligned and the plan fell into place, it would mean they would no longer be pursued. He would need time to make all the arrangements. She would go on, business as usual.

Logan bounded into Clarice's basement office, the walls conspicuously barren.

"Dude, where's all the Hannibal evidence? I wanted to bask in the glow, check out the creepy x-rays and stuff."

"They let me keep my job, but they took me off the case, remember? I've been bringing Marsten up to speed. Starting tomorrow, I'm going to be handling trainee paperwork revisions and a few missing person cases."

Logan dropped his head as if he'd just learned his dog died.

"Wow…wow, I'm sorry about that. I know what he means to you. It must bother the crap out of you that someone else is gonna control the investigation. Sorry, Clarice."

"Yeah, well, I don't need to look at pictures of him all day every day. I know what he looks like."

Logan sat on the edge of her desk, obviously thinking. Suddenly he turned, agitated.

"Hey, you didn't give them the letters, did you? I mean those were meant for you, not for Jessica fucking Marsten."

Clarice smiled. Logan was so protective of Hannibal. He couldn't even comprehend anyone investigating Hannibal besides Clarice. It was invasive for him to even consider it. He took offense for the man he'd never even met.

She considered lying, but she was about to involve him in something with far more serious implications than removing a couple of letters from evidence, so the truth was probably not much of an issue. She wagged a finger in faux warning.

"I mailed those to my house, but you don't know a thing about it, do you?"

"No, you know me, Clarice. I think they treated Hannibal like shit, considering all the crimes he helped them solve. They left him with Chilton, tossed him in the dungeon and tossed away the key. I was fucking thrilled when he escaped. He only killed assholes anyway. You think they would have given him a freaking medal for it. Especially that piece of crap Verger. He was molesting kids for years and no one did a damned thing about it. You can take what you want. I wouldn't tell them anything. Ever."

"No…I know you wouldn't, Logan. You're a great friend, to me and to Hannibal."

Logan smiled, "You really think so? Do you think he'd think so, too?"

"Yeah, Logan. I know so."

Logan nodded. He had a look on his face Clarice believed fluctuated somewhere between self-satisfaction and pride. He enjoyed imagining Hannibal might appreciate his friendship. He had no idea that Hannibal would be willing to bet his life on it.

Clarice was a little nervous, but Hannibal had done everything he could from his end. He had purchased a new home, made extensive travel arrangements, moved large sums of money and had alternate identification and citizenship documents forged. Now, it was up to Clarice to seal his fate and arrange for her future husband's death. She drew in a long breath, gathering her nerve as she spoke.

"So, Logan…any new assignments coming up?"

"Dude, yeah, did you hear? They got me on some big deal sniper detail tomorrow night so I guess there'll be tons of paperwork. I know you're not technically supposed to be checking out my paperwork anymore, but I was hoping you wouldn't mind giving my report the once over tomorrow night. I know I'm supposed to be flying solo by now but I'd feel better if you'd check it out. I don't really trust myself yet."

"Sure Logan, no problem." Clarice was busy organizing her files. She would be leaving and although she didn't want to tip them off that it had been a planned exit, she didn't want to leave a mess behind either. "So, what's the big deal? Any clues?"

Logan gripped the edge of the desk and began pressing his arms down, repeatedly lifting and lowering his body, exercising compulsively as she packed. He had far too much energy and Clarice found herself wondering how he was able to stay so still when necessary. Knowing snipers might stay hidden for hours at a time before taking a shot she imagined that was the reason he was so pent up when he wasn't working.

"They won't say who the target is until we get to the site. I'm bringing the M-40A1- it's a couple of pounds lighter than the A3 so I'm trading away a little comfort for some maneuverability."

Trying to sound interested but not inordinately so, she questioned, "Orders?"

Suddenly, his arms seemed heavy, the burden on his mind weighing him down. Looking depressed, Logan settled his body on the desk.

Suddenly getting serious, Logan? You know what's going on…put the pieces together.

Logan's voice lost its boyish charm. There were no 'dudes' or 'awesomes' coloring this response. He was not himself in this.

"Identify target, shoot on sight. Whoever it is, they're scared shitless. They're not even gonna try and get close. The poor bastard doesn't stand a chance."

Already knowing the answer, Clarice questioned, "Target?"

Logan was thinking and he wasn't happy.

"They won't let us know 'til we get on location. I hope it's not a Lecter thing, though."

Okay, he's considered the possibility, but what does he think of it? What would he do?

"Why?"

"Because I suck at paperwork, and I'm really lame at a lot of things, but with that weapon system…I don't miss. Ever."

Clarice cringed at the thought, but she attempted to seem only mildly curious.

"Could you do it, Logan…put a round in Hannibal's head?"

Logan shook his head as if trying to whip the idea from his mind.

"I could…I just don't know if I would. I mean it's kind of disrespectful that the Bureau used him to solve all those cases and didn't give him some kind of immunity or something. I mean he did actually save a lot of lives helping to solve the Buffalo Bill and Tooth Fairy cases. He saved you and you're my buddy! I kind of owe him one for that. Live and let live, you know what I mean. Don't tell anyone I said that, though. I don't want anyone to think I won't follow orders. He's just…different…to me. It would be sacrilegious. Like killing off the last of something, you know…like making something really special, extinct. I don't know if I want to go, I'm really worried it is Lecter. I might just call in sick. Let someone else do their dirty work."

Clarice drew in a long deep breath.

Okay, balls to the wall…it's all or nothing now.

"So…can I confide in you, Logan? If it's something really important…even if it's not the most morally upstanding thing in the world, can I trust you?"

Logan jumped to his feet. What ever she was going to say, he knew it would be important. He ran to her, grabbed her shoulders and started shaking her playfully.

"Is it about Hannibal? You know something don't you?"

Seeing his reaction, all Clarice could do was smile. Seeing her reaction, Logan went ballistic.

"Oh my god! You do! Did he send you another letter? C'mon, Clarice you're killing me! You can trust me. You know you can."

Clarice grabbed Logan by one of his massive biceps and turned him away from the door. Now huddled with the fanboy trapped in the body of a well-muscled man, she whispered, "Logan, the big deal tomorrow night is Lecter."

"What! Oh my god, dude, really!" Logan was almost shaking he was so wracked with excitement, if he had a tail, it would be wagging. Suddenly, he gasped as the realization of what he would be forced to do hit him like a ton of bricks.

"Dude…no…no, not him. I can't be known as the guy who killed Hannibal Lecter."

His world came crashing down around him as it dawned what he would have to do. If it was indeed involving Lecter, Logan would have to kill him. Now, Logan was desperate for information.

"Jesus Christ, Clarice, are you sure? How do you know? Who told you?"

She looked him dead in the eye so he understood she wasn't bluffing. She opened her mouth and went all in.

"I know, Logan, because Hannibal Lecter told me."

Logan stared at Clarice, incredulous.

Logan was overwrought, "Dude, that is sooo not cool. That's not even a little bit funny."

Clarice rubbed a consoling hand on Logan's back and could feel he was trembling. Logan was realizing that in twenty-four hours, he was going to be asked to take place a fatal round in the body of a man he considered a god.

"I'm not trying to be funny, Logan. Trust me, it is Hannibal tomorrow and he needs your help."

Logan was visibly upset. "Jesus, Clarice! Stop fucking with me!"

"I'm not fucking with you, Logan." She walked behind her desk and sat down, assuring, "I'm telling you the truth. Hannibal sent a letter to Pearsall and set the whole thing up, but he needs your help or this won't work."

Logan grabbed a chair and dragged it over to the desk, directly next to Clarice. When he sat, he was so near her chair, their knees were touching as he leaned in close and practically begged, "Dude…when did you talk to him?"

She couldn't believe she was telling him this, but it was her only option to keep Hannibal safe.

"I spoke with him about it yesterday and then again today."

Logan started bouncing up and down on the chair, barely able to keep his voice low, he hushed excitedly, "How did he contact you…double blind… personal ads... over the internet?"

Clarice needed to get Logan's attention and knowing how he felt about Hannibal, being provocative seemed the best way to do it.

"Over dinner last night and then again…"

I cannot believe I'm actually going to say this…

She gulped before saying it, then blurted, "…over breakfast this morning."

For a full minute, Logan sat staring ahead slack jawed as he processed what he'd just heard.

Clarice Starling not only knew Hannibal Lecter, not only spoke with Hannibal Lecter; Clarice Starling was sleeping with Hannibal Lecter.

He was hysterical, "Holy shit! Holy shit I knew it! Clarice you are a fucking rock star! Oh my god my buddy is sleeping with Hannibal Lecter. He's great right? Tell me, I won't tell anyone anything, I'll take it to my grave. I'm just dying to know…no details…just…he's a beast, right! I bet he's a fucking beast, right?"

"Okay, okay, calm down. I'm not going to give you any specifics, but…okay, just between you and me, you're right. He's absolutely incredible, I mean, he's better than I could have ever imagined, but that's all the detail you'll get out of me. I told him you would probably be there tomorrow because you're the best sniper in the Bureau. He wants to meet you. There's some information he needs and he wants to ask you a favor…personally."

Logan jumped to his feet and clamped his hands over his mouth, smothering the words so no one could hear him but Clarice.

"Hannibal Lecter knows who I am and he wants to meet me? Fuck me! I'm a goddamned rock star, too!"

Clarice flapped her hands trying to calm him down. He was so excited he was practically bouncing off the walls. Finally, she grabbed him by his shoulders attempting to shake some sense into him.

"Jesus…chill out, Logan. You want to meet him or not?"

"Dude…you know I do! Tell me what I've gotta do."

"You would have to leave with me now. It's not that I don't trust you and don't get offended by this, but I really do love him and I'm not about to take any chance that you might get too excited, slip up in front of the wrong person and spill your guts about this."

"No, I get that. I'm with you. I'll do whatever you need me to do. I just gotta meet him. When? Where?"

"My house, right now. He's making us dinner."

Hannibal had taken his time over the course of the two months to meticulously plan, organizing each and every arrangement. He had items in place, and established the contact point. He purchased a small boat, and secured the site. He needed only extend the invitation to the FBI. Date, time, location and circumstances were of Hannibal Lecter's choosing. Whether or not he would survive the situation was in Clarice's hands, or more specifically, Logan Marley's hands.

Hannibal Lecter dropped a note to Clint Pearsall. Well, he didn't so much as drop it. Hannibal pinned it to the jacket of Pearsall's daughter as she got off the bus at school. She never even saw him. Pearsall's wife received the letter and called him, crying as she read it over the phone.

Deputy Director Pearsall,

Your daughter is a very lovely and trusting young lady. Please thank her for carrying my invitation to you. No doubt you're wondering at which point during her day did I have direct access to her. Though I could have approached many times, I chose a time and place where my activities would be recorded and as such could not be misconstrued. Though I did plant the note on her person, rest assured that at no point did I behave in an inappropriate fashion. I do not harm innocents, and as such, your daughter was never in any danger.

You may see the entirety of the exchange by accessing the recordings from the school's security system. There is a camera mounted on her school directed at the busing area. If you watch closely, you will see that I attached the note to her clothing as she boarded the bus to return home. Yes, I allowed her to return to you. I am not the monster you assume me to be.

The purpose of this correspondence is to inform you that I will present myself for surrender at the Fairfield Terminals tomorrow at 4:30 p.m. where I will offer myself to your custody freely and willingly. As for the R.S.V.P., you need not confirm. I'll accept your regrets only. You will soon learn that I too, have regrets, thus the impetus for my submission to your authority. A recent personal association has resolved in a manner that has left me less than satisfied. I imagine the thumbprint provided will not only confirm my identity but will also offer a topic of conversation that may be discussed further in person. Know that I look forward to this final resolution,

Until then, I remain,

Sincerely,

Hannibal Lecter, M.D.

Pearsall's wife found the note upon meeting her daughter at the school bus.

The exterior of the envelope was scrolled with Hannibal's immaculate copperplate. It read simply:

To the attention of Deputy Director Pearsall with regards from Hannibal Lecter, M.D.

The letter was picked up immediately, arriving on the fly at Quantico within fifteen minutes of Mrs. Pearsall's phone call. Lloyd Bowman and Clint Pearsall went over every inch of the letter. Hannibal did not attempt to remove the partial thumbprint, impressed on the linen paper in what appeared to be blood. There was a victim. No doubt about it.

Lecter was identified by the security camera footage. He made a gesture with his left in the direction of the camera, the topic of a heated discussion in Pearsall's office between Pearsall and Lloyd Bowman as they reviewed the video footage from the school.

Pearsall was irate. "What the hell is that about? Is Lecter a heavy metal fan? He's throwing the goddamned horns up!"

Bowman understood the reference immediately.

"He isn't throwing the horns up because of his taste in music. Hannibal Lecter is half-Lithuanian and half-Italian. His mother was a noblewoman from the House of Visconti in Milan. That's the Mano Cornuta- it's a gesture used to either ward off evil or to curse someone."

"So he's cursing someone?" Pearsall questioned.

Bowman's opinion wasn't comforting. "He's the only one who can answer that. It's really just superstition but I wouldn't want him pointing that in my direction."

Pearsall was obviously highly agitated. He wasn't about to have Hannibal taken alive. Hannibal had reached his little girl once. If he was left alive he could get to her again, maybe even kill the whole family. No, Hannibal spoke of a final solution and Clint Pearsall was going to make sure of it.

"He could have killed my daughter."

Bowman was confused by Pearsall's anger. He watched the footage over and over again and didn't see any threat to the girl. To Lloyd, as to Hannibal, she was simply a courier.

"If he wanted her dead…she would be dead. He was sending you a message and that's all the use she was to him. We need to find out why he is surrendering and why he's choosing to do so tomorrow."

"We are talking about my daughter! I don't give a good goddamned what message he wants to send me. I'm going to be sending him a message too, from the muzzle of a gun! He told us where and he told us when, I don't give a shit why!"

Hannibal spent the afternoon shopping and preparing the meal. All was at the ready. Clarice had been packed for days and Hannibal had already shipped the majority of their necessities to their next location.

Clarice opened the door to the duplex and called out. "Honey, we're home."

Logan was shocked as Hannibal Lecter appeared in the hallway from the kitchen to welcome them. He approached Clarice and kissed her.

"Hello, Clarice."

Clarice returned the kiss and stepped aside to begin the introductions.

"Hannibal, allow me to introduce my colleague, Logan Marley. Logan…Hannibal Lecter, M.D."

Hannibal extended his hand and shook Logan's genially.

"I've heard quite a lot about you, Logan. It truly is a pleasure to finally meet you."

Logan was practically gushing at the thought that Hannibal knew he existed. He continued to grip Hannibal's hand, shaking vigorously.

"The pleasure is mine, Sir."

Watching Logan practically pulling Hannibal's arm off as he continued to shake his hand excitedly, Clarice grabbed Logan's wrist, interrupting the extended greeting.

"Relax, Logan, you don't have to work so hard." Turning to Hannibal, Clarice ran a hand up and down his arm. It was an intimate touch, not wasted on Logan.

Wanting to allow the men some time to talk privately, she requested, "I'd like to go upstairs and freshen up, H. Would you mind entertaining our guest for a few minutes?"

Understanding the offer, Hannibal kissed her cheek and assured.

"It would be my pleasure, my Love."

As Clarice excused herself, more to allow Hannibal the opportunity to talk to Logan than anything else, Logan gave her an enthusiastic thumbs-up as she ascended the stairs.

"I think we would be far more comfortable waiting in the living room than standing in the foyer. Please, join me."

Logan followed, bouncing behind Hannibal like a puppy nipping at his master's heels, obediently sitting where Hannibal directed. Lecter then excused himself and returned with a bottle of wine and three glasses. He filled two, handed one to Logan, taking the other for himself. He extended his glass.

"To your continued health, Logan."

Logan straightened his back, attempting to mimic Hannibal's dignified bearing and manner.

"To your health as well, Dr. Lecter."

Waving his hand, Hannibal pleasantly dismissed Logan's formality.

"Please, there is no need to be formal. You are among friends, Logan. Please, call me Hannibal."

"Oh…okay…Hannibal." Logan beamed.

Sitting in a large armchair, Hannibal leisurely sipped his wine as if he didn't have a life and death topic to discuss.

"Clarice speaks of you often. She is rather fond of you, you know. Initially, I was actually quite jealous."

"No…it's not like that. I mean, she's great, but she doesn't look at other guys. She's totally in love with you! You picked a heck of a woman, Sir. I really wish you the best…I mean that. She deserves to be happy. They make it really hard for her at the Bureau."

"She is the light of my life. I live to please her and am working very hard to remedy that situation. Clarice informed me that the Bureau has invited you to the party I have arranged. Will you be attending?"

Logan looked into Hannibal's eyes, and finding the scrutiny too intense, momentarily looked away. He took a deep breath, trying to decide how to answer. When he settled on a response, he gathered his confidence and met Hannibal's gaze.

"I…I will… unless…unless you don't want me there."

"No, I would never ask you to shirk your professional duties. Clarice trusts you, therefore by extension, I trust you. If I am to be placed within the reticle, I would prefer it be you at the other end."

Logan's voice was grim.

"They'll expect me to take the shot and I can't use blanks because there's no way in hell they'll pass forensics."

"No, I would never expect you to compromise your employment in that fashion."

Hannibal smiled as he swirled the wine within the bowl of the glass, coating the inside as he dipped his nose within, inhaling. He was the picture of relaxation and contentment as he sipped the wine and assessed Logan's demeanor.

Logan watched him for any sign of anger or worry. Hannibal was so neutral the younger man didn't know what to make of it. He listened carefully as Hannibal explained.

"In fact, Logan, expect you to take the shot as well, and am relying on the fact that you will not miss your mark. If I am indeed meant to take a sniper's round to my person, I would prefer to choose its placement, torso rather than head if you are inclined to cooperate. Is that something you would consider?"

Logan realized what he was being asked to do. Suddenly, his eyes meeting Hannibal's, he smiled widely.

"Absolutely."

Until the next chapter, my friends!

LH