AN: In my world Lecter's eyes are blue because Anthony Hopkins' eyes are blue. This piece follows the movie, so his eyes are definitely blue, and in my stories that follow the book, his eyes are still blue! Chalk it up to contacts. Thanks for the reviews, just thought I'd clarify. If you find anything else wrong with my stories, PLEASE tell me! Thanks, luna.

Add the usual: I'm not this smart, really!

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Clarice stood rooted to the spot until her training took over and she began to analyze the situation. Either Dr. Lecter was playing possum, or he'd just passed out on her. She didn't want to get too close until she knew which was which.

"Dr. Lecter?" she called towards the figure on the couch. There was no response so she moved forward a step. "Dr. Lecter, I'm warning you! If this is a game, it's going to get you shot. The safety is off my gun and any little surprises may cause me to pull the trigger. We wouldn't want that to happen now would we?" As she spoke to him, she kept her firearm trained on his chest. Still nothing happened. She began to notice details. Once again how cold it was in the house, and that the doctor seemed to be wrapped up in a wet raincoat. She could see he was breathing, but he made no response that he heard her. There was a brown paper bag on the coffee table, alongside a water-stained fedora. She pushed it over with her toe and several bottles of medication spilled out onto the table. There was Tylenol, some gravol, and a bottle of cough syrup.

At that moment, Lecter coughed and she almost shot him. Calming her breathing, she realized what the noise was she had heard earlier. It was a wheezing, shallow cough as if he wasn't getting enough air. Was he sick? she wondered. She finally summoned enough courage to reach out to him. She drew her hand back sharply from his as she met hot flesh. She reached out again and touched his forehead. There was still no response from the doctor, but she could definitely tell he was burning up. The raincoat he was wearing was damp and musty smelling. She picked up a receipt that had also fallen out of the bag. It had yesterday's date on it. She looked up in horror when she realized that the doctor had been lying in the cold and damp for more than a day, by himself. He'd probably been sick for a few days, hence the medications, but going out in the rain again had done him more harm than good. He'd obviously collapsed on the couch and she hoped it was due to exhaustion and not something more serious.

Somewhere in the back of Clarice's mind she decided that she couldn't take him to the hospital, where his state of comatose dictated he be taken, because he would be arrested. That meant that the only person around to take care of the man was her. The sorry leftovers of the FBI still moldering in her mind were tossed in the trash heap as soon as she began to unbutton his coat. The first thing she needed to do was get him dry and then try to bring his fever down.

She remembered reading cases of people who suffered permanent brain damage due to high fever. She'd seen kids get sick in the orphanage, but she'd never actually nursed anyone. She had him stripped down to his shirt and pants. They were wet too, and warm to the touch. She remembered Ardelia telling her there were two ways to bring down a fever. You could either submerge the person in cold water or snow, or you could sweat it out of them. She didn't think she was strong enough to move the doctor to the bathroom, so she opted for the second option. She stripped him down to his boxer shorts, and wrapped him in the throw she found on the adjacent chair.

"I'm sorry about this doctor. You know I would never abuse your privacy, but you did the same to me when I was shot. Consider this pay back." Talking to him, even if he couldn't answer back, made her feel better.

She needed a source of heat; she gazed around until she saw the huge stone fireplace at the end of the room. She walked over quickly and found a good supply of wood. After fumbling with shaky fingers, she lit a match and soon a good-sized fire was crackling, sending out waves of much needed heat into the cold room. She glanced back at the doctor before heading back out to the hallway. She would need more blankets, lots more blankets. She raced up the stairs and stripped every blanket off all three beds. Coming back down the stairs she noticed the thermostat, and dropped her bundle in order to investigate. Sure enough, it was set below fifteen degrees. She pushed the thermostat up and heard the furnace kick in somewhere below her. Smiling at her small victory she picked up the blankets and returned to the living room.

The doctor was right where she had left him. She spread blankets over him until all that could bee seen was his face. It was then that she noticed his dry cracked lips. He probably hadn't had anything to drink for quite some time. Even Clarice knew how important fluids were to someone who was sick. She left the room again, this time heading for the kitchen. Water was probably the best thing. She ran the water at the sink after searching through the cupboards for a glass. She was halfway down the hallway, when she realized that he wouldn't be able to drink it. Pondering the problem, she remembered her uncle nursing a sick horse. He'd bought the animal in order to breed her, in an attempt to make the farm more lucrative. She hadn't been able to stand up and therefore couldn't drink. He'd taken a rag and dribble water into her mouth. Clarice shook her head when she remembered they had put the horse down. She'd been thankful it wasn't Hannah. Moving back to the kitchen she found a clean dishcloth in a drawer and then returned to the living room. She almost dropped the glass when she saw movement on the couch. Then she realized that the doctor was shivering violently. She hurried to his side putting the glass carefully on the table. So much for nerves of steel, she thought. Must have lost those when I lost my job. She shook her head as she grasped the doctor's shoulders. His whole frame was shaking. She talked to him, more for her sake than his. She felt way out of her depth.

"Come on doctor, you gotta get well otherwise you won't be able to run anymore. You wouldn't want to miss out on your games! Like the emails you sent to Mr. Crawford. Speaking of which how on earth did you get his address? You'll have to tell me later."

When the doctor's shivering ceased, Clarice reached for the glass of water beside her. She dipped the cloth in the glass and squeezed a few drops onto the doctors cracked lips. When he swallowed reflexively, she was encouraged; she didn't want to drown him. She continued with the rag until the glass was empty. It was getting very warm in the room between the fire and the heat from the furnace, so Clarice pulled off her Jacket and sweatshirt. Then she reached for the purse that she'd dropped on the floor earlier. She dug out her chapstick and applied it to his lips. She touched his forehead and found his skin very hot to the touch, but he was also starting to sweat. She was about to pull the covers off when he called out and she almost fell over the coffee table.

"No! Mischa! Not Clarice!"

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Oh, this is starting to be fun!