Clarice never actually got that splendid sleep she had been imagining.  Within forty-five minutes, Will's search of her room was done.  No red dress, no letters, no picture.  And no one who had seen her dispose of any of it.  Will was, not surprisingly, furious.  He came storming into his room and the sight of Clarice sleeping peacefully on his bed amid the turmoil was more than enough to set him off.

            "Get up!" he yelled, pulling the covers off of her in a quick motion.

            Clarice blinked drowsily.  When am I ever going to catch a break?  "Wha-?" she managed wiping the sleeping dust from her eyes.

            "Well, after Jack finally realized you weren't on my cell phone, he called yours, and I picked up.  I wouldn't want to be in your shoes when we get back to Quantico, I will say that."  Will was stalking around the room, grabbing all his clothes and stuffing them none too carefully into his suitcase.  "You really screwed this one up, Starling.  I don't care what anyone else believes, I know what happened tonight, and I'm going to make sure you get booted off this case, whether I'm with the FBI or not."

            Clarice said nothing through his tirade.  Best let him talk now, or you'll never get any sleep on the plane.

            "The Italian police are going to drive you to the airport.  They'll sit with you there until I drop off the rent a car.  You're lucky Jack Crawford really likes you or I would handcuff you in the plane.  Now, go get your stuff packed.  I can't look at you."

            Clarice still said nothing, but climbed wearily to her feet and crossed to her room, to find everything torn apart.  Trust cops to leave everything just the way they found it, she thought disgustedly, looking at the two men stationed outside her room looking in on her suspiciously.  She wondered exactly how much Will had let his mouth run while she'd been sleeping.  She just shook her head and packed her things, pausing only to see Will walk past, obviously on his way to drop off the car. 

It really didn't take long to get her things together, so Clarice took one last look at her hotel room, and then approached the men outside.  The two men took one look at her and then approached.  "Signora," the one said, "I can carry that for you."

"No, thank you," Clarice said.  Just what I need… a chauvinist helping me with my bags.

"I insist, Signora," he said, wrenching the handle of her suitcase out of her hand with more than a little force.  The other officer came up on her other side, and both linked their arms through hers.

Clarice had had just about enough of all of this.  She could take strangers going through her personal things, she could take her "partner" accusing her of something that honestly, she did do, but that he couldn't prove, and she could take being driven to the air port and babysat like some kid waiting for his parents to come home, but she would not - would not stand for being treated like a criminal.

Clarice pulled her hands out from the officers' grasp and then while they were still reeling, grabbed her suitcase back from the first.  "No," she said.  "I insist."  Then she walked briskly down the hallway and jabbed the elevator button.  The two officers looked at each other and then ran down the hall after her.  They stood on either side of her, but neither dared take her suitcase or her arms again.  Clarice looked smug at this small victory, but it was short lived.

To be honest, it was the first time in her life that she had rode on this side of the bars in a police car.  Probably the only time, too.  She considered putting a huge smile on her face and waving to the people who would stop and turn their heads to see who was in the car, but finally resigned to staring daggers at anyone who dared look in her direction.  She found it amusing enough to pass the time on the way to the airport without falling asleep.

At the airport, the officers escorted her through security, checked her bag for her, and then took her down the ramp to the plane. Apparently some strings had been pulled to hold the 5:05 to D.C.  The officers stopped just short of entering the plane, only the flight attendants saw her with them, and they waited for ten minutes, until Will showed up.  Will only spoke to the officers to say thank you and then nodded Clarice to go ahead of him onto the plane.  Clarice let the flight attendant show her to her seat and sat down none too gracefully.  Will sat next to her, but it was unspoken between them that they would not be speaking on the flight home.

Clarice turned on her side to get comfortable, and was asleep before the plane took off.

What startled Clarice awake was the plane touching down in Washington.  She had slept through the entire flight.  Not that that disappointed either her or Will, but she would never have imagined she was that tired.  She exhaled noisily.  She could practically see Jack Crawford's livid face now.  As the plane taxied, she chanced a glance at Will's face.  He seemed calmer than that morning, but still not friendly.

With no carryon bags, Clarice and Will were the first to disembark.  "Have a nice day," said one of the cheery flight attendants.

Clarice put on an equally cheeky smile and said to her, "Not likely, but you should certainly have a go at it."

Will's strong grip on her arm told her that his anger had not decreased one iota, but he was determined to put on a good show for everyone else.  She could practically feel Jack's disapproving gaze even before she saw the opening at the end of the ramp, but sure enough, there stood Jack Crawford, in his tan trench coat and thin metal spectacles.  Clarice couldn't bare to look in his eyes, to face his disappointment, to know she had failed him entirely, even though Will could prove nothing.  He didn't even look at her.

"Will?  Could you do me a favor?  Go wait at the bag check and get Clarice's bag.  I'm going to head right over.  Thanks."  Then Will was gone.  Clarice wondered if it was a sign of how repulsive he felt about her presence.

Crawford didn't speak to her all the way through the airport.  They passed through the metal detectors and then the doors, but still he didn't offer one word.  When they had passed through the front doors, finally Jack turned to her.

"Clarice, no one at the Bureau knows anything about what happened over there.  You're going to be allowed to continue your job almost the same as before, just no field trips.    We'll have some very qualified people to check out any leads you might find."

"So that's what it's come down to, Jack?  You can't trust me, but you can't find him without me?  So you'll chain me to that desk in the cellar and use me just like you tried to use me as bait in Florence?  Don't think I don't know, Jack.  Don't think I don't know what you've been using me for for all these years.  I know, and do you want to know something, Jack?  I don't need you.  I don't need you as a mentor, and I certainly don't need you as a boss."  With this, Clarice reached into her pocket and took out her badge.  "Consider this my resignation, Jack."

As soon as the leather of the badge had hit his hand, Clarice retracted hers and proceeded to climb into the backseat of a taxi.

"Clarice - " he began, but stopped.

Clarice pointed a single finger at him.  "You'll never find him without me, do you understand that, Jack?  Never."  And so ended the career of Special Agent Clarice M. Starling; with the slamming of a yellow taxi door.