Warning – this went in a really different direction than intended, but I think it's good. Let me know!

Add the usual – not mine, not making any money, you really wouldn't want to know me in private life.

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For an FBI agent there is no more distinctive sound, than the safety being clicked off a gun. Clarice knew, the minute she heard it, that there was going to be trouble. She and Dr. Lecter rose simultaneously from the breakfast table. Hours seemed to pass, when in fact it was only a couple of heart beats, before the patio door burst open, sending shattered glass skittering across the floor. Men in black SWAT team gear swarmed into the kitchen. Neither Dr. Lecter nor Clarice moved as ten automatic machine guns were trained on them. Clarice watched as Pearsall and another agent stepped through the doorway; she wondered briefly if she was still in bed dreaming.

"No one will fire except under my direct order," Pearsall barked. Ten fingers moved outside their trigger cages. Dr. Lecter took the opportunity to move around the table and stand by Clarice.

"Stand still you crazy f—k!" the younger agent yelled. Clarice's eyes went wide as she felt the waves of rage rolling off the man beside her.

"Looks like you were right, Agent Carlyle," Pearsall noted looking at the pair in front of him.

"I told you she was hiding him," Carlyle said. "The probably had the whole escape planned last night." Carlyle was sounding extremely smug, until Pearsall noticed the handcuffs.

"Starling are you cuffed to him?" he asked as if he needed conformation of what he was seeing. Dr. Lecter, however, spoke before she could respond.

"Isn't that usually what one does with a prisoner?" he asked.

"You're Starling's prisoner?" Pearsall asked in some confusion. Dr. Lecter grinned a truly chilling smile.

"No, agent," he hissed, sparks flying in his eyes. "Do you think Clarice would feed me breakfast before turning me in? Guess again agent," he mocked, his hand clamping on to Clarice's wrist. Pearsall's eyes went wide at the implication until Carlyle piped up again.

"Everybody knows she's been f---ing him. That's how I knew he was here. I wonder which one suggested the handcuffs?" Clarice sucked back an insulted gasp, as the grip on her wrist tightened. Pearsall's eyes narrowed as he processed this third interpretation of the situation. Then everyone's attention was on the doctor as he spoke.

"You know nothing more tat the average idiot who reads supermarket trash. It was published more than ten years ago that there was something between Agent Starling and myself. I would hazard to say that you're a little behind with the times. I know that's a fairly common occurrence for you, so don't bother trying to catch up. You've been trying since the day you were born and I hate to tell you that you'll never succeed. You are doomed to struggle a few paces behind your contemporaries for the rest of your life. Your mother kept you back a year in primary school didn't she? You've blamed her over the years, but you knew, deep down inside, that you couldn't make the grade on your own. Tell me agent, do you still call her 'mommy'?" he asked with a sneer.

Clarice shivered as she was reminded of her first conversations with the doctor, in Baltimore, all those years ago. She felt a thumb caress the soft skin of her wrist and was comforted knowing that the doctor was thinking about the same thing. She watched as agent Carlyle tried to stutter out a denial of all the doctor has said. A snicker from one of the guys on the SWAT team snapped him out of his embarrassment and his glare turned nasty.

"The Tattler is going to love it when they find out how we found you two together. Dracula and his bride surprised while engaging in a little bondage," he laughed at his own joke. Behind him, Clarice could see Pearsall deep in thought. The directors would blame him for any bad press that was printed as a result of this arrest. Dr. Lecter spoke again,

"I have never actually drank blood, as Stoker's character is depicted, but I think in your case I might make an exception." Carlyle went decidedly pale at this announcement. The doctor was truly talented, when he could intimidate someone standing behind a ten-man SWAT team. Clarice snapped her attention back to Pearsall when he shifted his weight before speaking.

"The Tattler isn't going to know how we found them," he pronounced. In that moment Clarice felt her stomach drop as she read the intent in his eyes.

"NO!" she screamed, as she spun around. As if in a dance, Clarice spun in towards the doctor until she bumped into his chest with her back, their cuffed hands resting across her abdomen. "I won't let you shoot him down in my kitchen," she clarified. "Put him under arrest to face trial and judgment." Dr. Lecter's arm tightened around her as he realized tat he had become on of her lambs; he was now someone to care for and protect. For a moment, he thought they might actually have a chance until he saw Pearsall close his eyes and nod once to the captain of the SWAT team.

He tried to turn his body to shield Clarice, but in her determination to save him, he couldn't budge her. She let out a soft cry as the first bullets hit her body. At such close range the cold lead passed through her soft tissues and into the warm body behind her. Dr. Lecter could smell the rusty tang of blood and feel the warmth wash over his hands as he held her. He welcomed the pain as the bullets penetrated his chest and abdomen. They fell backwards together, Dr. Lecter cushioning the fall with his body. Their blood flowed and mingled on the kitchen floor like paint on canvas. In a way, it was just as beautiful. With his last breath, Dr. Lecter whispered the words he'd withheld, for so long, in Clarice's ear. Clarice never heard him. She was dead before they hit the floor.

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I'd appreciate some reviews for this… Should it end here? I think so. Thanks luna.