In the dimmed candlelight a hand reaches from the shadows beyond, lifting a fountain pen from the desk and dipping it into the inkwell. The ink is a rich royal blue, fitting of the letter he prepares to write. The nib of the pen scratches softly against the fine linen paper, words forming in a distinctive copperplate script. The words whisper in his mind, in tune to the notes of the piano that wash softly into the library.

Dear Clarice,

I have seen that, once again, you have gained a place in the spotlight. Does this please you? Does it make you proud to be the subject of the media hounds? I myself do try to avoid the media when I can, although I suppose it may have something to do with the fact that I am a known felon, and being in the spotlight is not worthy to my cause. Although, the infamous Tattler has proved helpful in the prior case that Will Graham worked.

How is Will, by the way? He never acknowledges the correspondence I attempt with him. Pity. I think he's still rather upset with me for the parting 'gift' my Avid Fan gave him. No, Clarice, I am not helping this current Red Dragon. The thought is far from my mind, although I am confident that it has crossed both yours and Will's.

Has Will told you of his discussions with me in the dungeon? No? I rather thought not. He refuses to admit a simple thing about he and I, namely the reason he caught me. Maybe it will give you a clue as to how to catch me someday, Special Agent Starling. You see, Will and I are just alike. Ask him, he'll know.

I would like to extend an offer to you, Clarice. If you require any assistance in getting inside the 'monster's' mind, only place an ad in accordance to the outlines set for your answer to my previous question. I do not know who he is, but I am willing to help. All you have to do is ask. Perhaps this time you will be able to silence the lambs. I wish you well, Clarice.

Regards

Hannibal Lecter, MD

PS- Do say hello to Will for me if you don't share this letter with him. I still hold to my promise that I will not call on you Clarice. The world is still more interesting with you in it.

-H

He carefully folds the letter in thirds before fitting it inside the envelope, which is sealed with red sealing wax. The wax looks like blood as it drips onto the paper, and almost matches the depth of color in his eyes. The envelope is addressed in his hand to Starling's home, and he allows the wax to cool before he slips it into a larger manila envelope, this one addressed to a remailing service in Denver, Colorado. He seals the envelope, moistening the flap with his red tongue. He lays it on the desk and reaches to snuff one of the candles there. He sits in the darkness, letting his thoughts grow into eternity as the piano continues playing, the pure notes washing over him like the tide.

*****

Petra let her fingers flit over the keys, almost lost to the music, her head nodding as if in a trance. She enjoys the time spent here in the doctor's well appointed house, a wonderful escape from the walls of her hotel room. A pause in the music earns a pause of regret for Petra, as she has yet to tell Dr. Fell that she is returning to the States in less than a week. Perhaps she hasn't told him because she doesn't want to accept it herself. She has become quite comfortable here in Florence, and is now even more so in the company of the doctor. He has taken her under his wing and shown her around, introducing her to the finer things that are to be held in life. A small sigh slips from her lips at the memory of the night spent at the opera. If only things could stay this way.

"You've stopped playing in the middle of your piece, Miss Morricone." come the rasping voice from behind her. Petra twists on the bench and then looks back to her hands, fingers still spread, but now idle on the keys. She could easily feel the weight of his gaze as he came to stand directly behind her. He motioned fro her to move over on the bench, and takes a seat beside her. Flexing his fingers, he began to play. Idle notes that shine like crystals, not really connected as he speaks to her.

"You look upset, Miss Morricone. May I ask what is the matter?"

:I have to go back home on Thursday. I don't really want to leave yet." she is surprised at the tears that are welling in her eyes. Leaving anywhere had never caused such a reaction in her. She supposed that is had something to do with the fact that she had never connected with anyone on her journeys before. She wiped angrily at her offending eyes and tilted her head back to look at the ceiling. The note had stopped and she felt something soft brush against her hand. She looked down to see Dr. Fell offering her a handkerchief. She nodded her thanks and wiped at her eyes. "Sorry." the apology was issued on a trembling voice. The doctor smiled kindly at her.

"Never apologize for yourself, Petra." she looked at him, stunned to hear her name on his lips. The friendship they had formed had an air of formality, keeping the distance between them. Now there was a break in the formalities, and she stared at the use of her given name, the casual sound of it on his tongue. "I am sad to hear that you will be leaving. Where in the States are you headed back to?"

A sigh escapes her, heavy as if facing something she dreaded, like the chores she had in her youth. "Baltimore." the name is slightly bitter on her tongue. She'd much rather be going to Boston where her father lived, but her mother was insisting on her return to Baltimore.

"Fate has made this a small world. I will be going there myself, shortly. Perhaps we will see each other there." that coaxed a smile out of her, and he decided to continue. The right hand slips into his pocket and withdraws a fine needle. He hates to do this, but he must ensure that she won't run when he tells her. She will be the only one that he trusts to carry his secrets.

"Petra, I believe we have reached a level of trust in our friendship, and I need to tell you something very, very important." she nods, the tears have now passed from her eyes, and she straightens, assuming an attentive posture. He hesitates slightly as he takes her hand carefully in his own. Surprise grows in her eyes as he tightens the grip and holds her arm straight. The hypodermic is inserted and withdrawn before she can pull away from him. The drug seizes her and Dr. Fell carefully catches her as she slumps against him. The eyes are growing farther and farther away as she tries to speak.

"Why?"

*****