Author's note: I confess. I am a hopeless romantic. However, I do not mean to write anyone out of character. Please tell me if I've gone too far.


'Newport Federal Institute, this is Dina speaking.'

'This is Special agent Clarice Starling, identification number 2317516. I'd like to speak to Dr. Hannibal Lecter.'

'One moment please, agent Starling.'

I trembled in anxious anticipation, taking a quick bite from my sandwich. I had waited until my lunch break to make this call, not wanting Jack Crawford or my colleagues to overhear me.

'Clarice?'

'Dr. Lecter.'

'I take it you received my letter?'

'The honey in the lion, doctor? What does it mean?'

'What do you think it means, Clarice? Do you think it's a compliment, or a threat?'

'A threat, doctor?'

'Out of the eater came something to eat, do you think that means I want to... eat you?'

'Frankly doctor, that didn't even occur to me.'

'Good, Clarice. Very good.'

I fell silent. There was nothing left to say, and suddenly I felt stupid for calling him in the first place. I could hear him breathe at the other end of the line.

'Will you come and see me again, Clarice?'

'I might. Goobye, Dr. Lecter.'

'Goodbye, little Starling. You'd better fly back to Jack Crawford, now.'

I hung up the phone with a sense of loss and confusion. No one had ever toyed with my feelings this way, juggling my emotions like flaming torches. Yes, I feared Hannibal Lecter. Half the world feared Hannibal Lecter, but not for the reasons I did. I knew he didn't want to have me for dinner, no filet รก Clarice with bechamel sauce for the good doctor. To me, he was doing something less physical but equally dangerous; he was trying to get into my mind.

Sometimes I felt like I had traded my own life for Catherine Martin's. I was still alive, of course, but my life had never been the same after my encounters with both Hannibal Lecter and Jame Gumb. But I suppose you get what you ask for when you join the FBI.

After my phonecall to Dr. Lecter, I was depressed. There were so many things I wanted to say that I just couldn't find the words to, things I knew he would laugh at if I ever said them out loud.

Silly little Starling, better fly back to the F... B... I.

I decided not to visit him again. I won't let you win your little mind games, doctor. Not this time.


I was exhausted by the time I got home. I was hoping for a nice, relaxing evening, but my plans for hot bath and a good book went down the drain when I was attacked by a psyched Ardelia, grinning at me like she was the proverbial cat eating the canary.

'This is so romantic, I can't believe it! I never thought Brigham had it in him - no offence Clare, but... oh my God you are so lucky!'

'Delia, get yourself together girl! What is it?'

Still grinning she handed me a decidedly unromantic white piece of paper.

'It's a telegram, girlfriend. They delivered it right before you got here, and, well, I couldn't help but read it...'

Clarice,

When Dante first saw Beatrice Portinari from across a chapel, he loved her at that instant and for the rest of his life.

Do you believe a man could become so obsessed with a woman from a single encounter? Could he daily feel a stab of hunger for her? Find nourishment in the very sight of her?

I think so.

But would she see through the bars of his plight, and ache for him?

Yours,

There was no name. But there was only one person who could have sent this, one person to make me eat his burning heart out of his hand. And that one person was Hannibal Lecter.