A/N- what do you do when you can't get to sleep and you have to be up in two hours anyway? Why, work on a chapter, of course!

si vrai l'amour a régné

Clarice spent the better part of her Saturday in her cramped cubicle, tucked far out of view in the bureau's Buzzard's Point office. Ostensibly, she was a tech agent, spending most days placing taps, playing with tracking devices, and doing as she was told. After all of that came the paperwork. She despised the paperwork, always wondering if she were in this cubicle simply because someone had pegged her as a secretary. It was three o'clock when she shoved the last report into its folder and slapped it into the outbox. Done. She ran her hands back through her loose auburn hair, tipping back in her chair and sighing.

She and Noble had a required function tonight. Clarice had grown up at just above poverty level, living in a clapboard home with her parents and siblings. A trip downtown was considered a special occasion. Noble's family was the cliché New England well-to-do. Tonight's program included dinner with his parents, then off to he special viewing of the new exhibit at the museum, where Noble's parents were on the board, and their son worked. She actually liked his parents, and his mother had adopted her within minutes of their first meeting. It was just the thought of all those other boring, dusty folks who would insist on her opinion of...

She rocked forward, surprised when the phone rang. Shit, she should be going, but if she let the phone go without answering it, someone would surely nag her about it later. Starling grabbed for the receiver, leaning elbows on the desk as she answered with a hopefully professional sounding 'Agent Starling.'

She was met with silence. 'Hello?' she asked the open line, still not getting a response. Muttering, she replaced the receiver in its cradle. Odd. She shivered, suddenly feeling cold and claustrophobic in her small cubicle. She pulled open a desk drawer and yanked her purse out. She tromped out of the office, tossing off a wave to the other agents on duty that fall afternoon. Wearing a battered jean jacket, she emerged outside into the pale sunshine. A stiff breeze swirled leaves and bits of trash around her feet as she turned the collar up against the wind. The warmth of the car was welcome, but she still couldn't shake the chill that seemed to sit at the base of her spine. She hadn't been able to for awhile now.
.-.-.-.

Noble was standing in front of the full length mirror in the bathroom, attempting to tie his bowtie. Clarice was at the sink, applying the final touches of makeup to her face, mouth open as she leaned closer to the mirror and dabbed mascara onto her lashes. Noble was getting nowhere, and was undoing the failed knot for the fourth time. Clarice finished her mascara application and blinked experimentally, looking at her husband's reflection.

'You're doing it wrong.' She pronounced, dropping the mascara tube back into the basket it had come from. He looked over at her, wishing he could look less frustrated and helpless and more, well, manly. Clarice waved her hand, getting him to step back a little ways from the mirror. She slid in front of him, brushing his hands from the sorry looking tie and beginning the work anew. A few moments later, she had a perfectly tied bowtie and she straightened his collar. Noble leaned to his right a little to peer into the glass and check out her work for himself. He looked down at her, slightly bemused.

'How come you know how to do that, Clarice?'

She smiled and winked. 'Trade secrets, Pilch. If I told you, I'd have to kill you.'

He laughed. 'You're an FBI agent, not a spy.' Now she laughed.

'Hmmm. You never know.' She reached and pinched off a piece of lint from his shoulder, then brushed the fabric smooth again. On her toes now to give him a kiss. Marriage, he concluded, had its benefits. She slid away from him, off to find her shoes. He appreciated her legs, long under the black dress, as she walked away. She called out a request to him, looking for a necklace and earrings. She trusted him to pick those out, she knew he had good taste, but a suggestion never hurt.

"Pearls, perhaps?' she asked, securing the ankle strap on her left shoe. She heard a non-committal noise from Pilch, then his footsteps coming across the room to her. A shadow appeared over her and she looked up, finishing the strap one handed. Pilcher smiled, having something in mind other than pearls. He opened a long black velvet box, holding it just below her nose so she could see its contents.

'I was thinking emeralds.' Her little gasp was worth it, even though she tried to admonish him a moment later. He would have none of it, carefully removing the necklace from the case. She obligingly stood for him, watching in the dresser mirror as he stepped behind her, draping the pendant around he neck and sweeping her loose hair off the nape of her neck so he could secure the clasp. Fingers touched the beautifully cut emerald, and she shivered as he kissed the back of her neck. Clarice removed the earrings from the box, preferring to put these in herself. Noble had tried once, and both had agreed once was enough.

Clarice Starling admired herself in the mirror a moment, then turned to her husband. Reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck, raising her head to meet his as he bowed to give her a kiss.

'Thank you.' She whispered. Noble smiled, glad. He caught a glimpse of his watch with his arms still behind her back. 'We'll be late if we don't hurry.' He was rewarded with a low 'hmmmm...' Clarice obviously had things other than dinner on her mind. 'Later.' He promised, bestowing another kiss on those soft lips before releasing her. Clarice sighed and acquiesced, knowing Pilch was really good about keeping his promises.
.-.-.-.

Clarice had been just about kidnapped by Rebecca Pilcher once they had arrived at the museum. A glass of chardonnay in hand, Clarice was in the midst of a group of women, laughing over one woman's husband's attempt to perform a simple home repair. Her laugh was as genuine as the other women's', but Clarice felt out of her depth. The image of a wolf in sheep's clothing kept coming to mind. In addition, something was causing an unpleasant buzz in her head, making her thoughts sound like a swarm of bees. She was amazed no one else heard it. She smiled at just the right moment, nodding as she sipped her wine. Suddenly, a new voice was intruding into the conversation.

'...just have to meet him. He's put in an application to take over Clancy's place on the board. Poor man, its just so sad what happened to him.' No one mentioned that Clancy Matthews had snapped one day and attempted to set his house on fire, much to the despair of his wife, who was visiting her sister in Rhode Island at the time. Now poor Clancy was under medication and supervision at a local psychiatric hospital. The though of a psychiatric hospital unnerved Clarice, and she was glad that the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane was now closed. It hadn't remained open long after Chilton's disappearance, and while Clarice found his sudden departure odd, she couldn't find any sympathy for him. Mrs. DeGraffe had left and was returning, on the arm of elegant gentleman, presumably the man who was intending to replace Clancy.

'Ladies, may I introduce Dr. Jarema.' He smiled charmingly at the ladies, causing most to blush as they smiled back. They introduced each other in turn, and Clarice didn't realize she was staring until he reached to shake her hand. 'Clarice Starling.' She managed, feeling the soft, firm hand take hers.

The gentleman, he was disturbingly familiar, smiled. 'A pleasure, Agent Starling.' He purred, Clarice withdrew her hand sharply.

'How do you know I'm an FBI agent?'

Another charming smile, showing small white teeth. 'I do read the papers. If I remember correctly, you were the one who rescued Miss Catherine Baker and killed Jame Gumb, correct?' Starling nodded woodenly, ring clinking against her wineglass as she tightened her grip on it. 'Lovely necklace.' He added, winking, before turning to greet her mother in law. As the group was preoccupied, Clarice slipped away. She was unnoticed by the women, but she knew their newfound board member nominee was watching her.

Noble looked for her, not having seen her over with his mother or her friends. Eyes scouting about the room he saw her in a corner by herself. Something was wrong. He excused himself from the men he'd been talking to and headed over to her. She smiled tiredly at him as he approached. Concern played on his features.

'Clarice, are you feeling alright?' She nodded, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze.

'Just a little tired, Pilch. Can we leave soon?' Pilch surveyed the large room and then checked his watch.

'Certainly. I'll go collect our coats and let mother know we're leaving.' Clarice smiled genuine appreciation.

'Great, and I'll slip off to the powder room real quick and meet you in the lobby.'

Pilch grinned. 'Sounds like a plan.' He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss. She released his hand and headed off across the room, heading in the opposite direction of her husband. Neither saw the new gentleman disengage and excuse himself from the people he was talking to, carefully following in Starling's wake.

Starling knew from experience that the bathrooms here were poorly located. She headed down a hallway, hearing her heels click against the tile. Her mind was still buzzing, and she was debating whether it was the wine or the introduction she'd been through that made it worse. Her hand was on the bathroom door, ready to push it open when she heard a shoe squeak behind her. She whirled around, chastising herself for being too jumpy. The owner of the shoe smiled apologetically.

'Sorry for startling you, Clarice.'

And that was when it clicked.
.-.-.-.