Okay, lets see, I had this terrible nightmare where you all came and tortured me in true Lecterphile fashion because I hadn't posted the new chapter. Just in case you are actually thinking along those lines may I just assure you that I will never ever be so lax again. *Runs screaming as a thrown harpy narrowly misses her head*:)

Chapter… Whatever one it happens to be!

The first thing she became aware of was the warmth of sunlight across her face, yellow light through her closed eyelids. Then, the vague feeling of irreparable loss as she realised that the warm comforting presence that had lain beside her the night before was no longer there. She lifted a heavy and sluggish to respond arm to the cool but slightly rumpled bedclothes where he must have lain.

Gradually sense comes to her as she regains consciousness and with it realisation comes, slowly. Up to her room, and being lain gently on the bed, her shoes removed, a strong broad hand in the small of her back, lifting as her dress is slid off, and then the covers pulled over her, tucked in like a little girl. A little while later, not so long, and the bed moves slightly as he sits on it, she senses rather than sees his form move over to her and instinctively she curls up, resting her head upon a shirted chest, falling asleep to the deep thudding of his heart.

One question, Who? What 'he'?

Who indeed?

Protesting her eyelids peeled open, her tongue felt tripled in size and her head pounded when she moved, the room was blurry until her eyes focused.

"Aww" she moaned as she sat up, it appeared the room she was in was her hotel room, presumably the same hotel room, straining she tried to remember anything of the night before.

"My name is Clarice Starling, I am an FBI agent, I am in…Paris, searching for Dr Hannibal Lecter who is a cannibal and all out bad guy…well not all out bad guy, after all, he eats the rude, that's kinda a public service and what the heck am I on?!" Clarice laughs, it's absurd, why on earth can't she remember anything except Dr Lecter and her name and…

"Oh holy shit!" Clarice' hands fist, grabbing hand full of the bed sheet and twisting it as memory (as it so unfortunately often does) returns.

"Awww, man." Funnily enough, she isn't thinking what she would think she would be thinking in such a situation. In fact, she's thinking about how on earth she should explain this, or if she should. A glance at her clock tells her that she has indeed overslept by quite some time, it is now 11am in the morning, no wonder it was so sunny.

Clarice gets up slowly, her eyes squinted against the pain the light caused her head, half way to the bathroom, she sees it, a mauve envelope, her name inscribed in the centre thereof. And she knows.

"Hannibal…" she murmurs, not even wondering why she calls him by his first name, and reaches for the envelope, collapsing onto one of the high backed Victorian chairs that seem to flourish in 5 star hotels. Not that she's been in many of the said.

The letters seem to blur again, and then she reads;

Hello Clarice,

First, my apology for the night before, it was unplanned, but necessary. I did not anticipate your being in a 5 star hotel, knowing the FBI, I thought to find you in a simple hotel, or perhaps even a Bed and Breakfast. It was a shock to see you when I came down for dinner, so I did what I thought was best - I approached you and drugged your drink with a mild sedative. You were a threat to my freedom that I could not allow and so I dealt with the situation as best I knew, and I know you will be angry with me.

You will not find me here at the hotel, understandably I have moved into other accommodation, neither will you find any traceable persona in the hotel database, not that this will of course stop you searching. Your duty to the FBI of course is always of paramount concern to you, another example of the reason I was so quick to act in my defence.

My dear, in case you are wondering, which I suspect that you are, I can assure you that nothing 'unsavoury' occurred last night, I behaved impeccably- if I do say so myself. Yes, I did join you to sleep for part of the night, or at first to watch you sleep, it was an added bonus that you chose to curl up against me, did listening to my heart remind you of your time in the womb?

Ah, I am sure that you are horrified listening to this, or perhaps you are in denial, pity I cannot be there to watch the emotions, conflicting ones maybe, flicker across your face.

Somehow, Clarice, I don't think you will show this letter to you 'friends' of the FBI or the Paris Police Force, in fact, I should think you will be ashamed of what happened-though since little did I see no reason for such behaviour, yet I know my Clarice. The lambs will scream louder for a while, won't they Clarice, because you slept peacefully when a cannibal was in your bed and I wonder, why?

My dear Clarice, so very unpredictable and unique, I look forward to our next meeting.

'Sweet Dreams' Clarice,

Hannibal Lecter M.D.

Her first thought was 'Sarcastic bastard, sweet dreams my arse', and then she thought back to the night before, had she really slept peacefully? Well, yes, no dreams, no nightmares, no waking up at some ungodly hour and watching Jerry Springer to try and bore her herself to sleep, or the 24 hour weather channel as it had been the night before, slightly less effective surprisingly. Clarice caught herself wandering and brought her mind back to the point, that being, yes she had slept well with Hannibal Lecter beside her, with her.

That having been established, Clarice went quickly to the bathroom where she threw up last night's dinner, lunch and breakfast feeling incredibly sick with disgust and horror.

A/N: That would seem to be a rather good place to leave it but I shan't, as I feel guilty for the lack of chapters these last weeks, plus it would be rather short…so, read on!

"Lets keep it quiet okay Pierre? I don't want the public to know this, no leaks understand? And no security following me around, I can take care of myself". Clarice had just left the Paris police hospital, having just been tested to see if their were any drugs remaining in her system, she had noted that they had not questioned her story- how very unlike her own FBI, and this was a foreign country! They had found a mild sedative in her blood (the Doctor had not lied- did he ever? Had she thought he would?) and that in itself confirmed her story, had they had any doubts. Unfortunately Pierre was being slightly over-protective.

"Mais Madame! Hannibal Lecter est…ah pardonne! I meant to say- he is dangerous, I would be..ah…my duty to protect you, to have no guard - c'est, urr ah, impossible!"

"He did not harm me last night, and has not before, I'll be okay Pierre, it will only draw more attention to me, and then the reason I am here could come out, and then -panic, nobody want's a cannibal for their next door neighbour". Pierre took awhile to mentally translate what she had said.

"Oui, this is true. Guards must be though!"

"No, I have my weapons"

"This is not enough he is a mad man" Pierre was as firm as her, though respectful of her position as an FBI agent to whom all whims were allowed, unless totally OOO.

"If he was going to do anything it would not be to me" she looked ahead, at the front entrance, which was a revolving door, and beyond.

"How can you be sure?" Pierre sounded sceptical to say the least.

"He would have done it last night. Pierre, please?" Clarice tried pleading "Put a phone tap on me if you wish, and check up on me every so often, make sure you know where I am, but no casual policemen or bodyguards, I value my privacy".

There was a short silence then Pierre nodded curtly.

"Okay, be safe, and have a good sleep we shall see you tomorrow- rested and ready to search again- yes?"

"Yes-" Clarice was interrupted by a shout.

"Captaine!" an officer was calling after Pierre, somewhat distressed.

"Oui?" the officer caught up and stopped, standing to attention for a moment before collapsing into a torrent of french that Clarice had no hope of understanding she waited for Pierre to enlighten her.

"Merde! There has been a body found, some…parts are missing, they suspect Dr Lecter" Pierre turned to her, "Will you come to see the body? The translator will come too"

Shit. "Yes. I will." Unknowingly they had both used the same swear word, ironic considering the barriers of language, or perhaps understandable. "Do they know who it is?" she queried, a burst of staccato french followed.

"No" answered Pierre "There was no ID and his face has been…mutilated"

"Mutilated?"

"Cut, sliced, perhaps bitten"

"I see" Clarice took moment to compose her self, she was still recovering from the night before, when she looked at Pierre again, she was all business, her face properly impassive and her mind firmly objective. If it was a suspected Hannibal Lecter victim, then the field was hers, she began to give orders, she was no longer the raw FBI recruit that had interviewed Dr Lecter in Baltimore and she had control of the game.

For now.

Didn't she?

A/N: I got the chance to see Hannibal again a few days back! Second time I've seen it- properly. I've never actually seen Silence of the Lambs, though I really want to. Trouble is, I don't actually own a TV, let alone a video player! Please review, if only to tell me off for taking so damn long with this!