Hi again! Thanx for the reviews. Just a little announcement, before we proceed. As I know, Russian fans of Dr.Lecter are starving in need of good sitesficsinformationHopkins pages... I can't do everything, but I sure can translate my posted fics to Russian, special thanks for Enchantress – my beta-reader, who's helping me with this work. If anyone is interested in fics' whereabouts, contact me.

As I've promised, chapter three is chapter two from the different POV. Hope you enjoy it /grin/.

Chapter 3. ...and the Cub.

Why has he agreed to such a stupidity? Because of the woman? Or because of the little orphan, who used her only weapon to protect herself from a bitter world? And a bitter word. Hmm, no, it isn't.

When he heard about biting element he thought it would be much fun. Fun to see a girl, who fought rudeness with its own weapon. Fun to teach her how to hide her emotions. How to punish her enemies and escape. Teach her the knowlegde he had – knowledge that his little sister hadn't acqiured. Before it was too late.

The headmaster wasn't actually a woman of sadistic inclinations, but it was seen instantly the orphanage was more like nunnery – with its simple interior, quiet girls wearing dark uniform, and its own means of punishment, of course. Rods? Quite possible. He felt the need to ask Clarice about it.

Clarice... What a beautiful name, how slowly, lazily it rolled over his tongue! How quickly he forgot to call her Ms. Starling, even in mind! What did he expect to see? Mischa?

"This way, please", the headmaster showed him to the corridor which wasn't so often used. What did they say about punishment? Incarceration? Please, don't let the room be cold...

She unlocked the door with one of her keys in the keyset and they stepped into the room. Not cold. Light. Bed, books, a piano, an eating table. And no possibilities to go outside. How does a little bird feel in the cage she so willingly accepted? Moreover, did everything to get inside?

And a girl – standind in the corner, looking at the headmaster with indifference. Soon it will be replaced by annoyance – if the woman is going to tell her who I am, he thought. Twelve years old? Nah, she looked older. When she is fifteen, boys are going to find her. If she ever gets outside this building, she will immediately be invited and raped in american way – in the car, standing on the parking lot near the sightseeing place. What a pity! She will be beautiful, even extremely beautiful when she grows up. The colour of her hair was that one he had neves seen – sun kissed auburn, incredible, magnificent shade. What if she avoids wearing ponytails? Well, it's all about this nunnery, he thought. Explicted rules of the institution.

"Clarice, I want you to meet someone," said the headmaster. Mmm, silly woman, this name should be pronounced another way, more kindly – then it will reveal its magnificence. Unfortuantely, he can't do it now.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Starling," he said instead.

And she looked at him. At that very moment he understood he wold be forever incarcerated with the look of these eyes. Suddenly he remembered one of his favourite books written by Dostoyevsky – "Idiot", the place, where Myshkin says to the woman: "You've suffered a lot." By saying that he showed her that her soul is much more important and beautiful than her body. Now it's the same. Her eyes showed him to the heights of suffer impossible for a man to survive – and he surrendered. Because what he saw in those pale blue eyes was a six year old boy, seeing the soldiers killing his siter, hearing the "chomp" of an axe...

And suddenly the impression was gone. Because the expression of her face slightly changed – and then he saw interest mixed with fear. It was very slippery of her. Should she read Nabokov's "Lolita" to stay away from such situations? Certailny it was an object to discuss.

'Say something, little creature, are you afraid of me?' And then he remembered – she can't. Before he introduces himself she can't utter a word. Until she is sixteen. Ahh.. courteousy... very good.

"Oh, I'm sorry. How could I ever been so rude and not introduce myself! My name is Hannibal Lecter, I am Doctor of Medicine." Now she will say something. At least he expected her to do so.

"Are you going to cure my psyche?" Now this was not the thing he expected. Whas was her voice again? Couldn't he remember? No? No, it's just little Mischa's voice, her deep maroon eyes looking at him, her small mouth forming the words: "Are you going to cure my psyche?"

"Clarice!" the voice of the headmaster returned him to reality. Clarice, not Mischa. But her face muscles suddenly got tensed in the way Hannibal could say she's suffering from a terrible headache caused by a lack of sleep.

Silly woman. She's causing the problem. How am I ought to speak with a girl, whose mind is transforming every uttered vowel into a great amount of pain?

"Mrs. Lee, I am ought to ask you to leave us alone." He said. Before she spoils the situation. Hearing the tone of his voice she obeyed immediately, saying only: "I'll see you both soon." She closed the door. Good. Let's start working.

Which means - let's study her only by her body language and a look in her eyes. He felt the pleasure when reinstalling their eye contact, like diving into a cool water during the hot day. And he didn't like what he saw. She's not afraid of him, but she counts him as an enemy. Another one to prove she doesn't need any help. Little girl, you'd better not do that. Soon you realise that being alone is more painful than trust someone and fall.

Now she tries to speak, but her tongue is not listening, her body is protecting itself from pain. She nodded me to sit. Aha, good, she IS courteous. He sat on the chair near the window and smiled. She exhaled with relief. Better. Now to get her relaxed.

He gestures her to sit on the sofa. Instead of this she came closer and sat on the floor, close enough to touch him by exposed hand. Tries to tell him he is superior. He knew that already, but he was pleased by her efforts to show him he is no longer an enemy. That he has a chance to become her friend. Maybe her only friend.

And ONLY friend. Those eyes of grown-up woman and a body of a teen. Don't forget about her age, don't let those eyes disguise you. Platonic love with her soul? Might be possible, but is not likely. He couldn't influense her that much.

And she really got relaxed. Even tried to compare him with something she knows very well. He grinned. Might it be the cat, Clarice? Might it be even Cheshire Cat? Too dangerous for you, my sweet, caged little bird. What could happen if you mistook?

"May I?" he asked. He knew that with this pain they won't go anywhere. So he decided to be her physician today. Gently massaging her neck, finding the right spots he fought for control. She's a girl, he thought. Will you wait for six year? "It's Chinese medicine. Won't do you any harm," he calmed her down. And then he felt her thinking: 'don't tell me I only needed a physician'.

"No, it's not that easy, Clarice." No! He mustn't have done this – but he did. No more Ms. Starlings, he thought as he felt a slight wave of pleasure hearing her name on his lips. "May I call you Clarice?" he asked only to verify if that' all right. Just a formality, another sign of courtesy. She nodded. Very good.

Now the pain must nave got away. He stopped massaging her neck but she didn't let his lap go. Let her do what she wants, he told himself. Perhaps she had never seen her father. Perhaps she had never seen the man who is kind to her. Perhaps I myself don't want to let her go... No, that's not right.

She rose, feeling his slight attempts to remind them who they are, looking in his eyes, searching for angriness, or annoyance, or even embarrasment. Finding none of them she slightly shoke with relief.

He stood up, looking at his watch. "I should go now, Clarice."

"Will you come again?" Oh! She was afraid to lose him! So quickly... he felt the strong need to become a mentor for this girl. Under the cover she was so helpless, so weak. And she understood it perfectly. 'Let's not disappoint her, shall we?' he thought. Let's not see her suffer, let's not leave her here helpless only to face the fate of Mischa.

He decided to tease her a bit: "Only if you promise me to be courteous and at least say "Good afternoon, Doctor Lecter." Will you promise?"

She nodded again, obviously feeling weak to say something. "You don't need to worry about the reaction of your body to the massage. As your doctor I strongly advise you to have a rest, even sleep for several hours. Expect me the same time tomorrow," he said. Will she take his prescriptions? Perhaps – if he promised her to return more effectively. He smiled and winked. "Ta-ta."

She, again, was silent – only smiled in return. And that smile shone on her face, brighter than the sun through the window...

He closed the door. Why did he agree to this anyway? Well, it doesn't matter now, does it?

A/N: It will remain PG-13, so don't expect me do something incredible /sadistic grin/. All I can do is get on your nerves with the plot. What next? Review – and you'll know soon enough /another sadistic grin/.