Summary: See first chapter.

Rating: Still PG-13 for now.

Disclaimer: Again, see first chapter.

Part: 2 of 4. Slight miscalculation on my part: there will be four instead of five chapters to this story. Do forgive me *hangs head in shame*. My genuine thanks to all who have reviewed, Hanniballover1181, DarkShadow, Arachniphiliac and Luna — you've all made my day!!! I hope that I've managed to make this second as enjoyable for you, and that you won't be disappointed. Also, I pray I'm somewhat doing a good job of portraying Dr Lecter's POV that is always a difficult thing. Thank you all.

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I heard her.

I heard her then, when she came to me, went around the forklift to face me, face me as I was nailed to my very own cross. The reference to Jesus on his must not have missed her, and when I called her a true Protestant she did not even flinch. Clever girl. Then of course, that is why she is my girl.

I heard her breathe heavily, of fear, not for what might happen to her though, but for what might happen to me. This new perspective surprised me, and her, and I think the realization of this might have gotten her a bit off guard for a moment.

As it was, she did not react fast enough to my revelation there should be three men down on the ground. For Peter's sake, she had neglected to shoot down another one and now this man had shot her. I could see it all happening from where I was standing, her limbs stiffening immediately to the awareness of a foreign object hitting her bone.

Then she spun, as the dizziness overtook her, and I could see her eyes glazing over. She reached to her side even as her knees gave in to the medicine and I saw her going down, face down, Clarice down, down.

To describe the emotion to rush through my veins when I saw Clarice fall to the ground as glory would be to understate it. Surely I could have done her no harm myself, wouldn't have done her any harm. But for another person to do so, an enemy nonetheless, was the perfect non-Christmas present anyone could have ever presented to me. Now I could take her, take her with me without anyone minding including Clarice, and we would both be free in the moment. What an utter delight. I had her now. Yes.

I lifted her into my arms and then . . .

I felt her.

I felt her body against me, and it startled me. It truly startled me in a way I could not have foreseen, even had I been expecting this reaction to her closeness. I could feel the long locks of her hair brushing against my upper arm, lower arm, my side, my chest, and she was so very near for a moment it took the breath out of my body. I couldn't breathe.

I sensed her every body part against mine like it burned where we touched, where we connected, as it had burned in Memphis. When our fingers had touched — or rather, when my forefinger had brushed over hers while she was in a hurry to get the paper from me — the electricity had struck the first time. A fire, an inferno so black and white-hot had rushed through me, so suddenly gone and yet still burning afterwards in the every ending nerve of my body. And for seven years, I would not feel that fire again. Until now.

Now, it was threatening to eat me whole, and to keep me from pressing my lips onto her flesh that was now so evidently exposed to me was a hard, struggling task, by far harder than anything else about the escape plan. The pigs let me through, they did not smell any fear. The security guards let the Mustang through as I drove off into the night with Clarice in the passenger's seat. But the hurricane of passion within me was raging throughout.

And it may have been foolish, but the mere knowledge I was wearing the boots that were hers, that had fitted around those small feet of hers and were now holding my feet in them like in a fist so tight, it enticed me so I could still hardly draw breath.

What a woman can do to a man's soul. Truly disheartening, my lapse of inner order was. And she wasn't even awake yet.

I felt her near me, even more than I had felt her when she was actually against me. Perhaps it was the knowledge she was now close enough to touch, to hold, to have, that I couldn't stand. I truly couldn't *stand* it. My hands were trembling and my face perspiring and I felt as though I was better off running, too. But I couldn't leave her.

Leave her now, my lamb, my girl, when she needed me the most? Never. Never now, never ever in any future imaginable. She needed me now, as the drugs were overtaking her system, and I had to make sure she would make it through the attacks of fever she would undoubtedly start to have in the next upcoming hours and days.

I had to help her. She had come to save me, even if she failed to do so completely, and the very least I could do was return the favor.

Of course, this is what I told myself was the reason. But if I could have stood being separated from her now . . . I don't know.

It seems these days I don't know a thing anymore. Love is a confusing thing, really. It takes all ground from under you, and even if you think what you are doing is right there is always the lingering doubt that you aren't. I wondered, even then, if Clarice Starling even wanted my saving her, ever wanted my interference in her life, and the stab of mad guilt to overtake me in a matter of moments when thinking of such matters still frightens me.

Love is a frightening thing, as well.

The drift of light on her facial features was delightful to look at, but I had to keep my eyes on the traffic. But the road ahead of me seemed much less important than the woman laying unconscious next to me, the woman who had been my path and guidance through everything ever since we met. She led me everywhere. She led me home.

Now, I wanted to lead her back to her world, my world, and perhaps, let her stay. Out of her own free will, of course, or so I told myself. Under all and every circumstance I wanted to believe I was still worthy of the term gentleman'. The necessity of drugging my Clarice was evident: it had to be done. It was necessary to keep giving her the antidotes for the drug overtaking her body.

But when I continued to give her the medication long after the fever had gone down and the shaking of her limbs had stopped, I knew I was busy planning the next phase in the destiny following the crossing of our paths. I knew I wanted her to stay. I also knew now was the chance to rid her of her demons. Her father, namely, and with that her lambs.

I also wanted to keep her with me.

But it would be a long road before I would admit this to myself, or her, or God above, who seemed to be enjoying this game of hide-and-seek I was doing with my heart now, as she had been doing before, far too much. Soulmates. Bah. Clarice and I, we are too much alike for our own good. But maybe our conjoined curses can grant us relief. Maybe.

Maybe even peace.

But I wouldn't know yet. I am not by far ready yet. Ready to be released. Ready to come home to peace of the heart, of the mind, of the soul. And I know she could grant me this. She might even know I could grant her hers. Yes. Soulmates indeed, however foolish the term sounds to me at this time. But all will prevail in us in good, honest time.

For time will make the both of us ready.

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TO BE CONTINUED *** soon ***