Chapter Nine. By Golly!

"..mais le leads have gone nowhere, nowhere! The air lady, elle est useless! Nous avons un… dead end Miss Starling…Miss Starling? Miss Starling! …Clarice?"

"Yes Pierre?"

"You are back?"

"I'm sorry?" Clarice sounds nonplussed, she frowns puzzled, at Pierre who is regarding her curiously his tanned clean-shaven face tilted slightly at her.

"For a moment there I did not have you Miss Starling, is something wrong?"

"Oh. I'm sorry, no nothing is … wrong"

"Non? Are you sure"

"Oui Pierre, merci pour ta questionne" her French is rusty to say the least but he understands the sentiment, and smiles back at her fondly, they are getting on well. The case however, is not. Dr Lecter remains unfound and that is with tight controls on all French borders, hotels, restaurants etc, you name it the PPF have a tab on everything. Currently they are having a lunch break, having just finished sandwiches and with plastic mugs of coffee, sitting in a green leaf park with a massive pond, which over part of droops a mournful weeping willow.

"Je trouve…ah, pardonne, I find myself wondering if he has not already left Paris" ponders Pierre aloud.

"We missed him you think?"

"Yes, but we shall not stop looking, it could be what he waits for, a stop of search, yes?"

"Yes, possibly"

"zossivly? This is?"

Clarice laughs, "It means 'maybe'"

"Ah" Pierre grins at her. "Good thing that no more deaths hmm?" but Clarice has gone again, her expression showing that her thoughts are miles away and Pierre is worried about her. "Madame Starling?" no response, he sighs, something does trouble the American FBI agent, but whether she has knowledge of that…?

He takes the moment to study her profile in detail. The lady is pretty, no doubt, but with a will of iron and a fierce spirit, he admires her a great deal, he hopes they can become friends outside of work. Ah mais non, not like that, if he was not married then perhaps he would have but no, strictly platonic. It would work better that way anyhow, he will miss her when she leaves, yes, as if reading his thoughts she speaks up again, slightly vague.

"Pierre, the FBI have told me to get results fast or find my self a new career"

"What! They cannot!"

"They can" replies Clarice grimly, surprised at Pierre's vehemence but oddly pleased.

"Well, if we get nothing…stay in Paris" he feels her startled gaze on him but doesn't turn to look.

"Uh…" ah thinks Pierre she thinks…

"No Clarice, I'm happily married, with a son and a little one on the way." He doesn't need to explain anymore. When he tilts his head and smiles genuinely at her she returns it.

"Really? How long?"

"Soon, it's going to be a little girl" Pierre's voice suffused with the proud feeling of a soon to be father -again. "Would you like to see a picture of my son? His name is Jean" he pulls out his wallet and they both lean over it as he shows her a picture of a tousled haired brown boy sat on a swing in a back garden, he is grinning a gap toothed smile, and looks absolutely adorable, if a trouble maker.

"How old is he?" asks Clarice grinning at the picture.

"5 ans" says Pierre, looking fondly at his son "This is my wife, Hanna" Hanna turns out to be a pretty petite lady with dark hair and tanned skin, standing with her hands on her son's shoulders, both beaming at the camera. Clarice suddenly feels jealous, though she doesn't know why, after all, a family is not something she has ever wanted, is it? Feeling compelled to say something she murmurs

"You must be very proud of them"

"Je suis" he murmurs in reply as he folds his wallet back up.

A little way away, Dr Lecter gazes over the top of his newspaper at the couple, couple his lips curl in distaste, he watches as they stand and the Paris police man offers his arm to Clarice…his Clarice. They laugh, she laughs, now that is rare, and she takes his arm as they walk out of the park but she walks stiffly, Dr Lecter smiles again. All is well, not that he would mind if it was not, but if he is her …protector, he has his duties. He misses the sound of her voice already, her near presence, so close and yet untouchable, is driving him to carelessness. Being here in this same park is stupid of him. Clarice he thinks Have you given up your precious ties to the FBI yet? My Dear, I think we need to discuss your future, perhaps some …therapy. I can arrange that…

A/N: Okay I know it's short but forgive me- major plot problems, but this chapter was essential for the plot I'm just having problems with my not-yet-ending, like how should I end it!?!