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Chapter 9: Connections in a Single Mind

*^*Clarice was standing in her apartment, double-checking all her suitcases, making sure she had her toothbrush. She had two hours before she had to get to the airport, good time for a person who was operating under the influence of a hangover and an infamous Lecter letter. She sat on her couch, waiting for something to happen.

For ten minutes, Clarice stared at a cigarette burn on her couch. It never moved, never changed position. It never winked at her, or smiled, or ate people. It was simply one of the many wounds the couch displayed from battles with Virginia Slims. It was permanent, and gave Clarice something solid to focus on. She wasn't feeling particularly healthy, and her mind was fuzzy with thoughts, far too many for one person. Clarice simply needed to sit for awhile and regain her composure. 'This case will be cake,' thought Clarice. She knew she'd be back within two weeks, and then perhaps she could focus on the more important goals in her life, none of which included the FBI. She needed time to herself, and was glad to know that this case would be her last. She had decided to quit.

Clarice was still sitting on the couch when her doorbell rang. She cast a stoney glare at the door, almost challenging it to open. It didn't, and Clarice realized that she was perhaps less healthy than she thought. She rose from the couch, straightening her light tan blouse and blue jeans. She knew she looked fine, but it was always good to check.

Clarice leaned her head against the door and yelled for identification of the ringer. A voice answered that needed no identification. "Starling, open up, it's Krendler."

'Oh good, this is the perfect sendoff...' she thought as she plastered a fake smile on her face. She unlocked the door and returned to her couch. "It's open, come on in."

Krendler opened the door with authority, stepping into her apartment briskly and shutting the door again. He looked around, drinking in his surroundings, till he saw Clarice sitting on the couch. She looked rather alluring in her tan blouse, top buttons open, showing just a bit of cleavage. Her jeans were tight but tasteful, and she was barefoot. Krendler had always had a thing for toes, and hers were not an exception. They were very cute.

Clarice shifted her weight slightly. A look of confidence resided on her face, as she asked, "What is it, Mr. Krendler?"

He grinned mischievously. "I just thought we should meet up here before we went to the plane. Didn't want to chance you getting lost or being late..."

The confidence faltered, giving way to shock. "Excuse me, sir, Mr. Crawford never said anything about you coming along."

"Well, you can't very well go by yourself, can you? You're an embarrassment to the bureau, Starling. No one wants to risk you going solo on any case, even and especially Lecter's."

In three seconds, several thoughts occurred to Clarice. She resented that Crawford hadn't said anything to her. She hated that of all the agents, he had to go all the way to Justice and get Paul, their hate for each other was so obvious! She despised that he was standing here, insulting her in her own damn living room. She hated that she felt so helpless... And then she saw him looking at her chest, her hips, her toes.

Clarice suddenly knew how to remedy a bad situation.

She rose slowly from the couch. "Did you request this assignment Paul?"

A stupid, school boy grin was apparent when she said his first name. "Why do you want to know, Starling?"

She walked closer to him, now about four feet away. Softly, she said, "I just noticed how you looked at my chest. You seemed very glad to be on the case." She looked down at his pants, with a delicious smile. "Very glad indeed."

Krendler was not embarrassed, he continued his conversation. "It's a good case. I just don't want to see any corn pone country p- - - - messing it up."

Something light, something quick fleeted past Clarice's eyes. A blink of red, and it was final. She walked over to Paul, putting her arms on his shoulders. "Paul, I'd like you to leave, and let me take this case alone. I need to do this by myself."

A simple grin widened. "No way in hell. I could, perhaps, be persuaded by a quick lay?" It was a question, not a statement.

She pulled him to the couch and jumped on top of him. "Okay."

Krendler sat stunned, ready to jump up if this was a trick. Then he leaned up to kiss Clarice, make the moment he had so long dreamed of come true. He closed his eyes and positioned his head...

Clarice slowly removed the Xacto knife from her pocket. She pushed the slight blade up to its full extension, and pressed it into Krendler's abdomen.

His face contorted with pain and surprise. "What the fuck are you doing!?"

She pushed it in a little, cutting through his jacket and slacks. "Teaching you a lesson in manners, MR. Krendler."

She quickly pulled him into a sitting position and moved behind him, pressing the knife into his middle. "Okay, here's how this is going to go. You aren't going to do a damn thing, got it? Not a damn thing unless I tell you to do it. Right now, I want you to take off your clothes, all of them. And don't try to run, I'm faster than you'll ever wish to be. I'll cut you before you know what happened, and it won't be quick. Now do it!"

Krendler stood, removing his jacket as quick as his Neanderthal arms would allow. He tried to unbutton his shirt, but his nervousness made the buttons slip. Clarice ran the knife under the buttons, slicing the shirt apart. "Hurry up, I don't have time for this."

Krendler began to cry as he took off his pants and boxers. He left his black shoes and socks on. Clarice tilted her head mockingly. "It seems you have reason to cry, huh Paul?"

He realized he had nothing to lose but his life, and attacked her. He lunged for her throat, pushing her into the wall. He tried to choke her, tried and tried, but she pushed his arm away with inhuman strength. She leaned toward him, as if to kiss him... and bit off his nose.

Paul screamed as blood ran down his face. He put his hands to his face, trying to cover his new wound. He never saw Clarice whip around and punch him in his temple. He was out cold before the fullness of the pain ever registered.

Clarice stood above Paul. She wiped her hand across her mouth, leaving a trail of blood. She kneeled before him, wearing a look of disgust. She heard the voice in her head, His voice. 'Do you know why the Philistines don't understand you, Clarice? You are the answer to Samson's riddle. You are the honey in the lion.' She smiled with the revelation.

She began to pull him into the kitchen, wearing a smile only worn by one other person. "Do you hear that Paul? I am the HONEY!"*^*^*




*~*~*~*~*Authors note: Oh, I so conquered this chapter! I stayed up all night working on it, and here it is, done, done, done! Woosh! Ok, lets set the next installment around this coming Thursday. It may be earlier, but this is a date I will definitely be done by. Enjoy, please R/R!!!