Disclaimer: No, Lecter and Starling are not my property, I just believe in equal opportunity…

When the Fox Comes A-Running

"When a fox hears a rabbit scream, he comes running…but not to help…"

Most people would have grasped the first opportunity to flee, upon awakening to find themselves captive to a member of the prestigious FBI Ten Most Wanted List. Ex-Special Agent Clarice Starling was more concerned about the attire she woke up in, a revealing black dress with more daring a neckline than she found comfortable. There was no question about who had dressed her, yet his intentions in providing this seductive dress was more of a mystery.

The idea of escaping never occurred to her.

Shoulder still aching from the wound she bore as a result of placing herself in danger to save his life- the implications of which she refused to consider just yet- Clarice attempted to navigate her way through the hallway, weaving a little from the drugs he had medicated her with. Swathed with wool, her mind fought to function clearly, despite the fog enveloping her thoughts. A nearby phone raised a flag, and relief swamped her as she recognized the cue to take a proactive step.

"We've traced your call and units will be there in about ten minutes…"

Duty done, she wandered away abstractedly, not registering the anxious queries from the other end of the line. Lecter's voice was all she could hear, and her only recourse was to follow it to him. If she only had her gun with her…What then? Clarice questioned herself cynically. Would she shoot him? They had danced to this particular tune before, and now she reverted to it once more, because it was familiar, because it was safe. You can take the agent out of the FBI, but you can't take the FBI out of the agent…

She picked up an object along the way, more whim borne out of a sense that she should resist being a compliant captive than a real desire to do him harm.

And there he was, Hannibal Lecter, M.D. In fine form as he exchanged pleasantries, carried the conversation and served the meal- just as urbane and charming as always, which intensified the horrific nature of his current atrocity…Clarice watched with light-headed revulsion as Lecter fed Paul Krendler his own brain as the main course. Yet she could do nothing to prevent it from happening; at least, she made a cursory attack on Lecter, but it was easily deflected and later she was to wonder whether she should have done more.

"You'll think with your perfect grasp of right and wrong that you are somehow accompli…"

How was it that the man could have left her ten years ago, and yet never truly gone? It was as though he had seen deep into her soul and claimed a piece of it for himself, during that game of cat-and-mouse when she had yielded more answers than she gathered. 'It is impossible to observe something without changing it', she knew…with his abnormal perceptiveness, that uncanny insight into the human character, was it that unlikely that he had changed her merely in the looking?

Could she accept that?

Clarice was tired of simply reacting. Perhaps the drugs were still clouding her mind, but a damning litany of grievances assailed her with renewed vigor: that moronic police officer who had defied orders to prove his self-worth and blown their bust to hell, costing a friend his life and her career its last breath…the FBI turning on her, relieving her of the badge that embodied all she was and had been to that point, taking the gun that had been proof of her strength and resilience…of course, she had kept an unlicensed firearm, had she subconsciously expected that institution to fail her throughout her struggle all these years? Or perhaps a more basic insecurity, the fear that she would ultimately prove to be unworthy and be cast from its side, flung helplessly into ignominy…

"Agent Starling is a deep roller. Let us hope that one of her parents was not."

With all that was running through her head, Clarice never knew which impulse it was that drove her to snap the handcuffs on Dr Lecter. Not many sane people would be willing to trap themselves in such close quarters with a psychotic serial killer, although the key word there was 'sane'. She felt secure in the knowledge that he would not harm her, however. There was an inexplicable tie between them, no matter how she tried to deny it, and it was enough to ensure she was the one person he would never seriously entertain the notion of consuming.

The chain links rattled, and she gazed at him with outward serenity.

Was it the shackles of the agency that lingered still? She was so newly discarded from its ranks, it hardly had time to sink in, and this action was pure instinct- apprehend the criminal and bring him in. It would bring her glory, restore her name, assure her triumphant return to the FBI…yet…she had no desire to be recalled at all. They had used her, taken the decade of her life that she had dedicated to them with slavish fervor, for no reward- only to be met with betrayal. Clarice had suffered the indignity of being stripped of her position, to be callously assured that she would be reinstated if she were to be found innocent of trumped up charges, no one to back her incensed assertion that she had committed no wrong. She had nothing left there for her.

"Do you ever think about him?"

"For at least thirty seconds of every day. I can't help it. He's always with me, like a bad habit."

So that only left other more unsettling motivations. That she had cuffed him to her for more personal reasons, out of an irrational craving for the comfort that he represented. Lecter had dropped everything for her the moment he had learnt of her predicament, only waiting to tie up loose ends in his newly established life before returning to her side. Clarice had felt more alive than she had in ten years when she had gone on the hunt once more, now knowing that he was so tantalizingly close, within reach- almost…it had tapped into the long-suppressed impassioned excitement and devoted enthusiasm that she had been unable to apply to any aspect of her life for so long, now directed towards locating him. For what purpose?

Her mind ran in circles, returning to this moment in time, locked to Hannibal Lecter of her own volition, still not knowing why…

Lecter's body pressed tightly against hers, his nearness alluring and provocative. The chemistry between them was undeniable; when Clarice finally discerned that incontrovertible fact, her actions began to acquire more meaning, his significance to her lodging unwaveringly within her heart.

"I came halfway around the world to watch you run, Clarice. Let me run, huh?"

But she couldn't. Somewhere along the line, he had come to mean just as much to her as she so obviously did to him. And knowing that, Clarice was unable to let go.

A/N: I had not planned on doing another Hannibal fic, but the characters are so compelling…I couldn't resist! So let me know if it was worth it and review!