When Will meets Clarice.

1991. 11 years after the events of the Tooth Fairy incident and only 1 year after the Buffalo Bill incident. It was the middle of the morning. A brown haired woman, in her Virginia home is laying in her bed tossing and turning. Suffering from what seems to be a terrible nightmare. It would be hard to tell why if not for the fact that she talks in her sleep. "Catherine." She whimpers. "Catherine I'm sorry. I couldn't get to you in time. It's so dark in here. What's that sound. Oh no, he's got a gun!" She jerks out of her bed. Tears and sweat pouring from her face as she reorients herself. She turns on the light. Her chestnut drawer is the first thing she sees, on her vanity mirror newspaper clippings and on the wall to the right of it, a certificate. It reads. "In recognition for outstanding achievement in the field, this certificate is awarded to Clarice Starling. For outstanding bravery, devotion and determination in the face of danger." While Clarice has more than enough honors to count on top of being advanced to the rank of Special Agent, she couldn't get over the horrors of that fateful day. When she stumbled upon the lair of Jame Gumb, Alias John Grant, Jack Gordon and most famously Buffalo Bill. A derogatory nickname given by the Kansas City Homicide division based on a bad joke. They said "This one likes to skin his humps." However his motive for doing so, was much more disturbing than a simple body part collecting made famous by various known killers. The exception being the notorious Dr. Hannibal Lecter who ate his. Contrary to what many tabloids have said, Jame is not transgender. He suffers from a rare from of identity disorder which has prompted him to try to become many things including but not limited to attempting transition. In fact during a background check at John Hopkins, they rejected him not out of discrimination, but due to failing the psyche evaluation and lying about his criminal background. In desperation to see if he could pass off as the opposite sex, which he would have no doubt given up had it not been for his demise, he kidnapped four women. The plan being to starve them enough to loosen their skin, shoot them and harvest their skin in order to make an elaborate suit. Using his skills as a tailor. His recent captive, Catherine Martin made national news upon her abduction, for being the daughter of U.S. Senator Ruth Martin. Prompting the FBI to hasten their search out of political pressure. By sheer luck, Clarice was able to find Gumb, while following a lead on his first victim. Fredrica Bimmel. Clarice figured that because she was the only one he took the time to weigh down for disposal, that he must have known her in life. In an attempt to contact Bimmel's employer Mrs. Lippmann, she found Gumb. Which prompted a game of cat and mouse between them in his basement. The lights were shut off and Gumb was stalking a blinded Clarice, using night-vision goggles as his advantage. Just as Gumb was about to kill her, Clarice heard him cock his gun. Prompting her to find and gun down Gumb, moments before the local police, FBI and her supervisor Jack Crawford find her. While she was victorious, it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. Clarice while hailed a hero by Ruth Martin and the FBI as well as major news networks, also received her fair share of bad press. Due to her orders, it was found out she helped deceive Hannibal Lecter in an effort to recruit his assistance in finding Catherine and Gumb. A phony offer to transfer Hannibal to another federal institution far away from the Baltimore Hospital for the criminally insane. The VA Hospital in Oneida Park New York. Sweetening the deal with a bonus of going on vacation one week per year on Plum Island. While Ruth bared no ill will towards Clarice, as she was grateful of her daughter's rescue, she did have a few choice words to say about Jack Crawford for taking a huge risk. However the press, minced her words making it look like Clarice was all at fault for it. As if that wasn't bad enough, local transgender rights groups that buy into Gumb's bullshit raised a huge stink against the FBI and Clarice Starling. Claiming they violated Jame's civil rights and should be labelled murderers. However upon seeing a copy of the crime photos of Gumb's victims, they promptly ceased their protest. To make matters worse Tennessee PD circulated a rumor that Clarice aided in the dramatically violent escape of Hannibal Lecter, but the rumor was dropped due to lack of concrete evidence. However the bad press doesn't compare to the post traumatic stress, Clarice is currently in recovery for. It is believed that while she managed to graduate with honors, due to her outstanding work in the field, that part of her post trauma is the result of worries and fears that she wouldn't rescue Catherine in time. However that's just the surface. Her real trauma was based on the following factors:

1. Prior to Hannibal Lecter's escape, Clarice consulted him on Crawford's orders on four occasions. Hoping to get a psychological profile on Gumb. In an effort to gain his trust, she offered personal information in her own life. From the grief of her father's demise, to her attempt to liberate a spring lamb from the sheep and horse ranch she stayed at. The result of which opened enough old wounds that they stacked onto her current traumas. From Multiple Miggs sexually assaulting her to Gumb nearly killing her.

2. While she knows Lecter would not come after her. The final phone call between them, left her in a state of shock. She can't stop looking over her shoulder. He may not be after her, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't like to watch.

3. It was the first time she ever killed a person. Even if it was for a just and noble cause, that kind of thing could change you.

She wipes the sweat off her face and gets dressed in her jogging suit. The same suit she wore during her days at the academy. The exercises seemed to provide her with some comfort despite how exhausting they are. Before she goes out for a jog, she picks up her phone and dials a number. "Yeah it's me." She says. "Could you meet me at my place at around 4:00? I'll understand if you're busy. Ok. Thank you sir." She hangs up and goes for a jog in the nearby woods. Thoughts race her mind as she tries to keep herself together. She stops. Finds herself breathing rapidly, but through sheer will tries to keep going. It's not the first time she's been through this, so she knew when to rest and when to go. After she finished her jogging she pours herself a drink. Now any of her close friends and remaining family would think a West Virginia girl like her would be bourbon or rye. However much like the accent she tried to shed, she also tried to avert other stereotypes as well. Instead she pours herself a glass of wine. What kind of wine? Florence Chianti. Gotta give the good doctor some credit. She thinks. He does have a good taste in wine. She takes a few sips to sample the taste before downing the rest of the glass. Just as she was about to pour another, the doorbell rings. She goes to answer it. There was Jack Crawford. His hair grey, his wide spectacles. It was like the first time he met her in Quantico. She lets him in. "Thanks for coming on such short notice." She says. "Would you like a drink?" He shakes his head. "Sorry no, I drove here." He says. "So what's the problem? You wouldn't call me unless all hell was breaking loose." She chuckles, used to him profiling her at this point. "It's that bad." She said. "Well it's a number of things. When I first came here, I only intended to graduate and apply for BSU. I never thought I would make it this far in such a short amount of time. However there were a few things I can't seem to shake off and I was wondering, since I'm probably not the first of your students to have this problem, if you had any advice." Jack took a seat in the kitchen and Clarice took hers. Pouring another glass. While he was listening carefully he couldn't help but stare at the wine bottle. If one were present with the two, one would assume he was concerned about her drinking. However anyone that knows the legendary Jack Crawford would know it wasn't what concerned him, but rather what she was drinking. "Out of all the brands." He said. "Chianti straight from Florence. You're still thinking about him aren't you?" He looked with more concern. "It's hard not to." She says. "You were right, I shouldn't have let him in my head. It was the only way though. I don't get it, we caught Gumb, I get one of the highest ranks an agent can get and yet I still feel like I failed in some way. Why do I feel like I have to keep looking over my shoulder?" Jack sighed and reached into his pocket. He took out a black book. "I cannot help you with this, but I think I know who can." He says. He flips through some pages and hands the book to her. She reads on. "Will Graham." She says. "THE Will Graham?" "Yes." He said. "The man who personally put Lecter in that cell. If you want to find a way to cope with what you're feeling, he's the man you have to see. He lives in Marathon Florida fixing boat motors. He wants nothing to do with me, for good reason. However, I have a hunch he will want to talk to you." Clarice takes a moment to memorize the name and address. "When you find what you're looking for." He says. "Try to come back to work. Regardless of what happens you are one of my best agents." Clarice nods and hands him back the book.

The train she took to Marathon was a day's travel, but she did not sleep. There was a lot more on her mind now. On top of the feeling of unease regarding whatever aid Will can offer, this was the one opportunity she had to meet a known legend in the force. She arrives at his house, which was easy to spot as there was a dock and some broken boat motors on the beach and knocks on the door. A 19 year old boy answers. "Can I help you." He says. Clarice tries to feign ignorance. "I'm sorry." She says. "I must have the wrong house. I'm looking for Will Graham." The boy smirks at her. "Lady." he says. "My dad's a former FBI agent, if I didn't pick up a few things I would have believed that phony ignorant act. I'm Josh Graham. Will is my father." Clarice couldn't help but flash a smile. "Smart kid." she says as she takes her badge out. "I'm Special Agent Clarice Starling. I need to speak with your father for a moment." An older man steps into view. His blonde hair faded into some grey and white, but his face matched the pictures on the National Tattler. "Well, Special Agent Starling." He says in a tone of annoyed frustration. "If Jack is looking for more help, I'm gonna have to say no. I read it in the papers. You're his new golden goose." Starling looks down, mostly to avoid awe at seeing this legend in the flesh, but also in her own insecurity. "Actually." She says. "Jack didn't send me here to ask you to help him. This isn't a recruitment for an investigation. He sent me here, to see if you could help me." His tone and body language changed, from that of an annoyed person, to one of a softer concerned father. "Josh. Go set an extra place at the table. Special Agent Starling and I have a lot to talk about."

It was lunch and it was mostly fresh catch and some orange juice. It was Clarice, Josh, Molly and Will sitting down and enjoying a meal. They don't say a word just yet. Once finished, Molly and Josh excused themselves while the two agents talk. "Much of why I waited until we were done was you caught us in the middle of lunch and I didn't want to talk about the gruesome details with you." He said. "Plus we're still not over what happened 11 years ago." "I've heard." She said. "Francis Dollarhyde. The Tooth Fairy. He nearly killed you three." Will nodded. "Then you must have heard what I had to do to get him away from Josh." He said. "While he's old enough to understand it was a ploy, a kid can never forget what their father said to them in their moment of need." "He seems to be doing ok." She says. "That snarky attitude he gave you?" He asks. "That's just a smokescreen. When the Red Dragon had him at mirror point, he was scared and he was vulnerable and what I've said made him feel more alone. So he hides it behind a cynical attitude in hopes to protect him from himself." "I see." She says "You haven't been an agent in 11 years and you're still able to profile. Especially your own family." "Don't sound so impressed." He says. "You're not hear to talk about Dollarhyde or my family. You're here to talk about him." He trembles a little at his last words. He doesn't even want to say his name. Clarice nodded. "Yes." She said. "Crawford thinks I can't seem to move on from him and was hoping you'd help me." "You came to the wrong guy." He said. "I couldn't help you if I wanted to." Clarice shakes her head. "You mean to tell me for 11 years you never got over Lecter?" She asks. Will looks at her. His pupils contracted, sweat beads down his eyes. "No." He says. "Truth be told, he still scares me to this day." "Why does he frighten us so?" She asks.

Will was stumped on that one. It took him a moment to think of what to say, but he started talking. "To know why, I'd have to go way back. He and I used to be friends. In some sick and twisted way, he thinks we still are. We first met, when Crawford recommended him to me. He was a forensic psychiatrist and was a major help with the FBI in finding killers based on his profiles. My first major case was tracking down a serial killer named Garret Hobbs. The Minnesota Shrike. It's clear you know of my 'Gift' but even with that, I was stuck on him. Lecter helped me put the final pieces together and I took him out before he could kill his own daughter. My first kill. I spent many months in therapy trying to figure out why such a thing would bother me. I can assume the emotional point of view of everyone I have my sights on. If I get too deep into it, I practically end up becoming that person. It was Lecter that told me that part of why it bothered me so, was that I enjoyed killing Hobbs just as much as he enjoyed killing others. He was a big help for me and we were practically joined at the hip. We worked together on another case afterwards The Chesapeake Ripper. We initially assumed due to the precision of the cuts, that it was some med student with a grudge. Until one day, while having a chicken dinner, my son Josh was being taught how to carve the roast. Molly's dad told him 'The tenderest part of the meat is the oysters on either side of the back.' I never heard the expression before. Then I had a flash of the third victim. Darcy Taylor. She was missing flesh from her back. Then it hit me, liver, tongue, kidney, thymus. Every single victim, lost some body part used in cooking. I went to Lecter right away, to run it by him. However I found it odd, that one of the most brilliant forensic psychiatrists would miss something that would be so obvious. He leaves me be for a while and out of curiosity I read one of his books. A surgical diagram book which had written words, you'd expect to find in a cookbook. Before I could pull my gun, he stabs me. I stab him back and wound him, before calling the authorities." He shakes a little almost as if he was reliving the event all over again. Clarice looked at him with both concern and a feeling that she could relate to. She tells her story. "Well what can I say that you haven't read in the papers? When I first took the job of tracking Gumb down, I was warned by Jack, not to share personal information with Lecter. He feared the man would get into my head and not come out." Will couldn't help but chuckle. "Trust me." He says. "As just as Jack's warning is, I've tried so hard to make sure he didn't get into mine, but he always finds a way to worm his way in there. I barely gave him an inch regarding the things he didn't know about. Though it must have petrified you. To tell him your darkest secrets and him revelling in your misery." He stopped talking for a moment. Clarice was just as shocked. "You sounded lik-" She said. "I know." Will said. "It's why I quit in the first place. In my entire career, I've been able to see, feel and think on the same level as Hobbs, Lecter and Dollarhyde. It's still a struggle to this day. While it's unknown if the same applies to Lecter. The other two, whose motivations were much more simpler to understand have caused such a great impact that it's hard not to think of them. I guess the same can be said of Lecter. He's been a part of both our lives whether we like it or not. The more I spent trying to run from it, the faster it catches up to me. I guess it's time I stop running and accept that part of my life if I truly wish to move on." Tears welled up in Clarice's eyes. She knew exactly what he meant. "I guess I'm tired of running too." She said. She gets up and reaches her hand out. "Thank you Graham." She said. To which Will shakes her hand. "Call me Will." he says. They let go and she heads for the door. "You're right though." He said. "In that interview regarding his escape. He would consider it rude to go after you." "There's one thing I want to know before I go." She says. "If you're the one who stopped him before, why hasn't he come after you? I'm sure in his own mind he thought you were rude to him too." Will thought for a moment. "I don't know to be honest." He says. "My best guess is that he was satisfied with the terror he caused my family and the scars it would leave." He points to his face first, but then opens up his shirt, showing bullet wounds on his chest and the knife wound on his side. "Maybe he thought the world was far more interesting with you in it." Clarice says. She smiles at him and walks out the door.

On the train ride back, she was finally able to get a decent night sleep and she reported straight back to Crawford. It didn't take her long to get back into work. She had her own office ready for her return. She gets a visit from Crawford. "Starling." He said "Good to have you back. Is Will still as tanned as he was when I last saw him?" Clarice smiled "And with more greys on him." She said. "Don't tell me that's all you came here for. Just to check on me." He flashes a smile at her a rare one. "Well I got a new assignment for you." He says. "It's a bit tame compared to your last one, but it should help you get back into the swing of things. There's a string of drug cases in the DC area and they want a profiler there to help track down their prime suspect. Her name is Evelda Drumgo." She thinks for a moment. "I'll get right on it." She says.

Crawford leaves without a second word. Clarice starts sorting some paper work out when she finds an envelope on her desk. It has her name written ink. She recognizes the handwriting. It was a letter from Lecter. She takes it to the BSU Basement and puts on gloves to avoid further contamination. She opens the letter with a scalpel and reads it.

My Dear Clarice,

It's been a year since we had our chat over the phone. I've read about your leave of absence and decided for a brief moment to send this to you in the moment you came back. I want to say at first, that I never lost faith in you, but I feared you lost faith in yourself. That you often think of what would happen should you have failed even with the clues I provided for you. That you worry of how the shame of your failure would reflect on your mommy and daddy. Or maybe it's because it's the first time you've taken a human life. That I do understand. As just and noble as your reasoning, you feel in an attempt to save one lamb, you've slaughtered another. Although I've taken great risk to contact you, I can assure you, as I've said before, I do not wish to call on you. The world is far more interesting with you in it. While I was delivering your message I've had a chance to do some light reading. You wouldn't be the first hero to be embroiled with controversy, so I hope that what the press and tabloids say about you doesn't add into your already traumatic life. They're mostly written by rubes worst than I assumed you to be. They're not satisfied with the fairy tale happy ending you provided for Catherine Martin. I find the news profits more off misery than it does pleasure. I've also overheard a rumor that you went to see my old friend Will. I trust he's not as ugly as the press made him look. I must admit I am at fault for it, but you know how I feel about rude people. You won't be hearing from me again for quite some time as I am enjoying my hibernation too much, for the time being. So don't bother tracing this. I've pulled all the stops to make sure no trace of me is on this paper, the envelope or your brand new office. Discourtesy is unspeakably ugly to me and it would be a major discourtesy to contaminate your new office with any sign of me. You will hear from me one day, when I feel the need to return to public life. Until then, just file this away with the rest of the evidence you have piled up and inform your superiors, even if it's a waste of time.

Regards your old pal,

Hannibal Lecter M.D.

P.S. Be very careful around Evelda Drumgo. Medical records in DC state that she is H.I.V. Positive and will spit and bite anyone that corners her. Should you be the one to put her in the back of a squad car, don't touch her hair. There's most likely a filthy needle buried within it.

Ta, H.

Clarice folded the letter gently and approached Crawford's office. Placing it on his desk much to his shock.