Disclaimer: I don't own "Hannibal" or any of the books by Thomas Harris. I don't own the characters such as Hannibal nor Clarice (but I have them in my closet /grins/)

A/N: I wrote this chapter days ago but I finished it yesterday. It is short, but I hope it will explain more. My friend Edith, read it first and she was very positive with it! I'm so happy! She said to me so many good things about it. I hope you'll like it too. Things are clear. The end is close. Probably the next chapter. I don't have a single word yet so please be patient because I need more time to write it. I want to thank you my reviewers! Katherine and JahWarrior. Your comments mean a lot to me. Also I changed the punctuation. I thought about it earlier but I'm a lazy person :)

Chapter 5: The Clarifications

Doctor Lecter saw something in Melissa's eyes and realization hit him. He saw himself as a kid with rage boiling underneath his skin. Blood stains on the snow. This innocent sparkle in his soul was killed by Micsha's death. It was Clarice who woke up that small boy and gave him feelings that he never considered himself able to feel anymore. Looking at Melissa he recognised the struggling that made him a perfect monster. Now, he was looking at the birth of a butterfly. He smiled at her decision and went for his revenge.

Father and daughter attacked at the same time. She bit the hand that was holding her mouth and with a loud crack crushed three fingers. The man automatically grabbed his hand with a piercing shriek. His suffering didn't last long as after a moment his skull was crushed at the opposite wall. Coolness made Mel's senses hyperactive. She became quicker that she could ever imagine. Turning away, she glimpsed her father slicing somebody's throat. Matt was leaning against the wall and breathing heavily. He just couldn't avert his eyes from his little sister. Her hunger grew even bigger when she felt the blood on her lips. It was almost refreshing and this thought distracted her for a moment but her father was right beside her. Two men aimed at them but they had no chance. Hannibal used one of them as a shield while the other was shooting. Breaking his living shield's twisted arm, he took his gun and shot his opponent right between his eyes. Melissa didn't bother to take a second glance at the victims. They were scum and she didn't care if they die a slow painful death or not. She quickly composed herself and returned to the other opponents.

Ex-Special Agent Clarice Starling was driving in her jaguar. Ignoring all the street rules, all the signs and all the people around her, she drove like a madman. An hour ago she came back from school and saw a note from her husband: Pack all our things and wait at the airport. Buy four tickets to Tunisia.

They were ready for such circumstances and packing went fast. Servants were instructed what to do in such situations. Mister O'Connor was a famous psychiatrist, who enjoyed visiting foreign countries very often. After less than half an hour, everything was ready. Only the most important luggage was settled in the jaguar. The rest was supposed to be sent right to the airport by the chauffeur.

Clarice was madly worried. Her daughter wasn't home since the previous day even though she promised never to miss school again. Something was wrong and she could feel it. Then, her son disappeared and when she came back from school where she thought she would find him, she found a note from Hannibal. Now that was extremely disturbing. The worst scenarios came into her mind. FBI found them? Local police? Maybe it's a trap? Maybe her husband was with the children somewhere in the city and the note was from the police and now they were waiting for her? No, that was crazy. She knew Hannibal's writing style all too well. Red light made her stop suddenly. She slammed the steering wheel with rage and rested her forehead against it. Unexpectedly, somebody drew her attention. On the pavement, she recognized some of Melissa's friends out of school. Ignoring all the cars behind her, she got out of the car and run for the redhead boy standing on the street with a cigarette in his right hand, busy talking with some random guys and a girl with a large tattoo. Without a second thought, she pinned him to the wall and put a gun she wore under her blouse to his stomach.

"This sweetie can blow your guts all over the street if you won't answer my nice question. Where's my daughter, you asshole!"

The boy was stunned by this unusual performance. Mrs. O'Connor was well-known as a great gardener, wife and a mother. He always thought that she was a peaceful housewife and now she acted like a cop.

"I..I don't know, really.. We went to The Club. She was dancing and.. and I don't quite remember the rest… "

Clarice gritted her teeth. She knew that the boy was telling the truth. The Club was a place where Melissa often visited her friends ignoring the fact that she was forbidden to go there.

The boy shrieked as Mrs. Connor's gun went down to rest against his crotch.

"Listen, kiddo. Maybe I should talk with your dick. Perhaps he'll remember. Try to concentrate a little more."

"I really don't know! I took some drugs and I've lost my connection with reality! Please don't kill me! I swear on my mother's grave that I don't remember anything more!"

Clarice cursed under her breath and pushed her gun harder into the boy's pants. A girl with a tattoo stopped her wrist.

"He's telling the truth! We are her friends. If he knew something, he would tell you immediately! Look, I've seen a bit more! She was dancing but after about 20 minutes she was gone with some guy. I don't know him, I swear! I thought he was familiar with her. They kinda looked affectionate…"

"Was there anything peculiar about him? How he looked like?" inquired Clarice ignoring the girl's insinuations.

"He had a tattoo at his neck. It was a caption of some sort…"

"What did it say?"

"I've just seen it for a moment. I'm not sure…"

"WHAT DID IT SAY, FOR GOD'S SAKE?!!"

"Son of art. Or something like that. I was really dizzy at that time."

Mrs. O'Connor's heart stopped for a moment. She had a freezing felling in her stomach and felt like somebody punched her in the abdomen. She knew who the man was because she looked trough his files when she was an FBI Agent. 20 years ago this young man orchestrated a massacre that shocked the United States. The mutilated parts of victims were nailed to the factory wall in the ghetto. At least 25 people were dead. The body parts formed three captions: POETRY ART DEATH. Under them there was a signature made with the white paint: Son of art. The murders stopped seven months ago and media lost interest. She had some own theories about the organ market but her husband reassured her that the times of sheep are long gone and she should focus on her own life.

"Ma'am? We are worried about her too. Mel saved me once and I want to repay her for that. Your husband asked me about her too. He seemed to know what to do next. He seemed so calm and self-assured. I could do nothing just trust him and say everything I knew. I'm sure he'll find her." said the girl and a soft smiled lighted her features. In a second, despite her clothes and body, she looked like o small kid, who believed in miracles. Clarice calmed down and put a gun away. The boy was breathing quickly but fought the urge to run along with his other friends who escaped a few minutes ago.

"Ok honey, I believe you. Everything will be fine. I know who has her but I need to know where he is right now. Did my husband tell you something else? Maybe you know where he went? It's really important so please, tell me." said Clarice. Her voice was slightly tremulous. Every letter was spoken carefully to calm herself as well as the girl.

"Well, he was asking me some strange questions like: How Melissa was feeling when she entered The Club? Was she on drugs or did she drink alcohol? Did she know that guy who went out The Club with her? Did I spot something strange? I answered as good as I could and he thanked me and simply left. I observed him from the window because he met me at the deserted factory. Ten years ago it was a shoe factory or something like that. He was fast and I only saw his coat when he was turning left on the Hilton Street. "

"Hilton Street…" Clarice whispered to herself and frantically tried to place the street on the map. The redhead boy interrupted her thoughts.

"There's an old medical magazine. It's not used anymore because new one was built next to the St Brutus Hospital. It's not abandoned and some of my friends are trading information, drugs or money for new syringes and other medical tools. The street is not too safe..."

"You're going with me" Clarice grabbed him by his arm and run for her car. She knew where to find her daughter. She just prayed it wasn't too late.