That when darkness folds on darkness, in the restless tides of night, and the lightning raises shadows and for moments gives them life.

-From the booklet accompanying the Trans-Siberian Orchestra album Beethoven's Last Night

*****

Will Graham stands in the polished front hallway of Julie Simms' Baltimore home. Everything, from floor to ceiling was white, of a variation on that theme. No color here. His hard soled shoes sound on the linoleum, and he can see tracks from the shoes of the officers and agent who stepped foot here before him. He breathes in the air, stale now, since the windows have not been opened in a week. He was sure that Ms. Simms would not be pleased with her house being shuttered up this way. He walked through the hall, finding himself in a formal dining room between the living room and the kitchen. A heavy oak table with six chairs sat in the room, walls close in on it. An heirloom, one which she made do with in the limited space because she refused to part with it. A china cabinet and buffet is pushed against the wall next to the hall entrance. He blinks slowly, taking it in. Footsteps come across the linoleum behind him.

She stops short behind him, noting the lack of movement as one hand rests against the wall. He looks back at her, and she can't read anything from his eyes or his face. The horrific scars do not bother her, she has become used to them in the two days they have spent going through the victims' homes. Julie's home was the last of the five for them to revisit. Starling followed him into the kitchen, sneakers whispering on the floor. Here the linoleum was in black and white checkerboard, and matched the black and white tiles of the countertop. Still sitting there by the stove was the Le Grand Dictionnaire de Cuisine, and it summoned Lecter's pale visage once again. Graham had looked at it too, and was shaking his head, moving out of the kitchen.

"Last time I saw that was in Lecter's cell." she heard him mumble under his breath. She watched him leave, and raised her hand to the counter height. Her fingers spread wide and she laid them atop the cover, as if she could draw something more than a memory out of it. She dropped her hand back to her side and followed Graham up the stairs. She mentally counted the steps it took her to reach the door to the master bedroom, where he already stood inside. The same yellow curtains now lay limp over the window, and the setting sun's ruddy color seeped through them. Clarice walked past the mirror that was above the dresser, noting the tired face of Will Graham that was reflected back in it. She could suddenly see all the years that weighed on him, all the pain. Worse yet, she could see all the pain and years that weighed on her too. Her mind pulled a poem she had heard before out of the dark recesses and she heard her own voice recite it.

I see this woman here

with such a sadness in her eyes

that runs so deep in her soul

I want to reach out to her

and comfort her

but she is merely a reflection

a play of light in the looking glass

She snapped her head around the room, tearing her gaze from the mirror. Her voice had been so clear that she could have sworn that she had spoken aloud. Graham gave no indication of that as he looked at the blood stains on the bed and the floor. Dark rusty red on pale white carpet. This woman had been so pure, so clean. She had order in everything, let it control her life. She let it control her life so she could pretend that she knew where it was headed. Dying at the hands of serial killer had not been in those carefully laid plans. She was standing very still, and she thought she could almost feel the vibrations form Graham's voice as it cut across the room.

"Starling, did you guys check to see if these guys had any relatives related to Dolarhyde's victims?" Even in that scarred and twisted face, Will's eyes still burned with a fierce intensity. She shook her head.

"No one related to either the Leedses or the Jacobis, that was the first thing we ran when Mrs. Morricone told us what the guy said to her." the reporters name dripped with slight contempt from Starling's lips. She didn't approve of the trash tabloids or their hold on the media. "We also ran to see if there were any descendants from him. Nothing. The half-siblings from his mother's marriage to Howard Vogt, all of them came up with dead ends. The girls both live in Los Angeles now and the son committed suicide three years ago."

"I think he's related somehow. Mrs. Morricone said he had yellow eyes?"

"Yessir."

"Yellow eyes stand out almost as much as maroon ones, Starling."

*****

The Sphinx sauntered into the kitchen, her tiny nose twitching at the smell of broiled fish. The tall man stood over the stove, stirring a pot of black eyed peas before he replaced the lid to let them simmer. HE smiled at the cat, revealing the twisted teeth that he had never bothered to get fixed. His mother had put him up for adoption as soon as he was born, uncaring who he would go to. He now mused that he had reminded her too much of Francis Dolarhyde. He had been raised by a caring family and they had gotten the best plastic surgery for him, but had never cared about his teeth. He just wouldn't speak when he was in public, and that was their solution. Outward appearances were everything for the Conrads. He had been labeled "stupid" and "dork" by other children in grade school. They learned the hard way not to call him that, after he had bashed Michael Stephenson's head into the brick wall of the school. The new term for him after that was "monster".

The other children would have never understood him, and they still didn't. He knew of a greater thing in life; the clear precise order to it all. He would bring that order to him, rule over it, making the world his own. He was not going to be controlled by a voice in his head like his predecessor had. He would Become, and he would Become by using the pure lives of those who craved order like him. Neat, clean, order. The sacrifices built on one another like stones in an old castle wall. Absorbing them as he grew in his power. His lips spread into a grin as he thought of his growing power. Yellow eyes glowed as he came to stand before the framed print over his desk. Soon. So very soon.

"I will be the Great Red Dragon."

*****