I sat myself down on one of those plastic folding chairs, facing the doctor. I found myself staring out of the window to avoid his gaze. I could feel his eyes moving over my body, studying me... coveting me?

'Don't you feel eyes moving over your body, Clarice?'

I remembered everything. Every single exchange of words we had shared over the past few months was etched into my memory. I scraped my throat, looking to find the courage to start this conversation. He must have been having a field day, watching me squirm like this.

'You finally got your room with a view, Dr. Lecter.'

'Clarice, do you remember what your mommy used to tell you when you were little? Always look directly at the person you're addressing. You're being impolite.'

I hate it when he brings up my parents. Reluctantly, I turned to face him. There was no telling what those eyes might do to me.

'You don't want Hannibal Lecter inside your head, Starling.'

Yeah, well, that's kinda too late now, isn't it? Don't tell him anything personal, never forget what he is... well-meant advise, but what else is there to do when there's a young girl's life on the line? Not only did I have Hannibal Lecter inside my head, he was slowly taking over every part of my life. Too late, Jackie boy. Way too late.

'How has the FBI been treating you Clarice? I would have attended your graduation, but you'll understand that I wasn't in a position to do so.'

'They've been treating me fine, Dr. Lecter. They gave me a position in Behavioral Science.'

'Ah, so you're working for ol' Jackie boy now, are you? Tell him I said hello.'

I took a deep breath. 'And how about you, doctor? How are they treating you here?'

'Let's not talk about me, Clarice... there are much more interesting subjects to discuss.'

I fretted to ask, knowing that my past was among his favorite subjects. Damn him, anyway. Why did he want to see me so bad? He must have known how much it pains me to see him like this, how conflicted my feelings are when we talk. I want to tell you, doctor. I want to tell you everything, but I can't.

'What subjects, doctor?'

An enigmatic smile crept over his face, and a dry chuckle escaped his throat. 'Could you hand me a glass of water, Clarice? There's one over there, by the sink.'

Somehow I felt that putting up an argument over 'not coming too close' would only chagrine him, so I did as asked.

'Would you please hold it to my lips, Clarice? I would do it myself, but as you can see my hands are tied up.'

I couldn't refuse. There were no doubts, no internal battles to be fought. His eyes left me no choice. I raised the glass to his lips, letting him sip some of the water.

'Thank you, Clarice. I've missed having someone like you around.'

I almost choked. He'd missed me? Me, the well-scrubbed hustling rube with the cheap shoes and West-Virginian drawl? I'd be damned if I'd let him notice my surprise, though. There was no way I would tell him that I, too, had missed his company. Hell, I wouldn't even admit that to myself, let alone to someone else. Let alone to him. I was strong. I was resolute. I had my mind made up. There was no way he was going to find out how much our conversations had meant to me.

'Tell me, Clarice... have you missed me, too?'

Damn.

'I've thought of you a lot, doctor.' Keep it in the middle, don't admit...

'Yes, I know you have, but have you missed me? Have you ever thought of me, late at night when the lambs were screaming, wishing I were there? Have you, Clarice?'

Yes. Yes, doctor, I have.

'Sometimes.'