The train slowed to a halt at another station in the middle of nowhere.
Hannibal Lecter brought his eyes up from the book he was reading to glance at the platform, lit only by a single, flickering bulb. Nobody got on or off.
He wondered vaguely what time it was, but made no effort to seek clarity on the matter. He saw no reason to – by his calculation, it was around two hours since they had left the station in Budapest, meaning it was still the right side of midnight.
Closing his book and placing it on the table in front of him, he turned his attention to the sleeping form beside him.
Clarice's head rested against his shoulder, so close her could smell the soft scent of her chamomile shampoo. He had long since draped his coat around her shoulders to stop her shivering.
The interior of the cabin in which they were seated was dated, but the dim lighting and mahogany-coloured wood gave it a cosey feel all the same. After the journey they had made so far, it was no wonder that both of them had hit a wall.
His eyes moved to the seats opposite, where their daughter lay curled up beneath a blanket, and he allowed a small smile to cross his lips.
The train jerked into motion as it pulled away from the station, and Clarice stirred beside him.
Hannibal hushed her, bringing up a hand to stroke her cheek, hoping to soothe her back into slumber. But Clarice's eyes were open now, and she repositioned her head to look up at him, blinking the sleep from her eyes.
He sighed. He wasn't sure whether it was the situation, the FBI agent in her or a combination of the both, but she was always on high alert and could never relax.
"Where're we?" she murmured, sitting up.
"Somewhere along the Slovakian border," he told her.
Clarice craned her neck to check on Everleigh.
"She is sound asleep," he assured her. "As should you be."
She shook her head. "I'm okay."
"You must learn to relax, Clarice. You must know that I am quite adept at travelling undetected. You have nothing to fear," the Doctor told her.
She watched him for a moment before muttering her agreement and training her eyes on her own hands.
"Might feel better if I knew where we were goin'," she commented. She was well aware her tone and the look on her face resembled that of a petulant teenager, but right then she did little to rectify it.
"All in good time," he assured her.
Clarice exhaled, furrowing her brow.
Hannibal put a finger to her chin, humming her name as he encouraged her to look at him again and smiling at her sullen expression.
"Do you trust me?" he asked, softly.
"Yes."
His lips found hers, and she responded.
The kiss was brief, before his mouth came to rest against her forehead.
"If it is that important to you Clarice, then I will tell you."
She rose an eyebrow. "What happened to 'all in good time'?"
"The fact you were willing to accept my response and did not press the matter tells me that you are ready for the information I am about to impart to you," Hannibal said, sitting up and reaching for the map which lay on the table.
Flattening it out, he placed his finger to the place marked as Varšuva.
"At around 9 o'clock tomorrow morning we will arrive here, in Warsaw."
"Is that where we're goin'?" she asked.
"That is where this particular train will take us – it is not, however, where our journey will end," Hannibal explained. "From there, we will board another train which will take us directly to Vilnius."
A moment of silence passed between them, during which time, a look of realisation took up residence on her face.
Moving her eyes from the map to meet his, Clarice held his gaze.
"Lithuania," she began. "You're… takin' us home, aren'tchu?"
He smiled again.
"Yes, Clarice. I do believe I am."