Disclaimer: See Chapter One.

Author's Note: I know. It has been a horribly long time since I updated any of my stories. Well, finally, here's something. I hope you all like it. Please let me know what you think.

Chapter 3

Two days later Special Agent Clarice Starling walked into Clint Pearsall's office, not really surprised to find Assistant Director Noonan and Director Tunberry already seated. She blinked once, oddly calm considering the reason she had been called in. Pearsall indicated the empty chair across from his desk. "Have a seat Starling."

"I'd prefer to stand, Sir. I'm sure this won't take long," she responded simply.

Noonan spoke up then, shifting forward in his chair. "We've been reviewing recent events surrounding your actions at Muskrat Farm and later at…."

He didn't get any further as Clarice cut him off abruptly. "Excuse me, Sir, but if you're going to fire me, I wish you would just get to it. As a matter of fact, why don't I save you gentlemen the trouble?" She reached into her jacket and came back with her academy diploma, slapping it down on the desk hard enough to make the men jump. "Frankly, I'm tired of being used as the FBI's scapegoat whenever the shit hits the fan. You can keep your badge and title and go fuck over some other unsuspecting agent. I'm through dealing with assholes like you." She turned on her heel and headed for the door, pausing with her back to them, hand on the knob and said calmly, "Consider that my official resignation from the bureau." The door shut softly behind her with a light click of closure.

Clarice returned to the house she shared with Ardelia Mapp and slammed the front door hard as she entered, throwing her keys at the wall then slumped onto the bench, dissolving into quiet sobs. The first step had been taken that day, and she wasn't sure what the next step would be or where it would lead her. She knew her first priority would be to find a new job, something simple. That was the key Dr. Lecter had given her all those years ago in the old courthouse. "Keep it simple. Okay. I can do that," Starling whispered into the empty house.

"You quit?!!" demanded Mapp upon returning home and learning of the news several hours later. "What the hell are you thinking, girl? You got more than just yourself to worry about now, Starling." The dark woman gestured angrily at her friend. "Shit, girl, you got a baby now."

"I know, Ardelia," she replied gently, blue eyes following the agitated movements of the woman in front of her. "I'll find another job."

Frustration edged into Mapp's voice. "What job? You're a trained FBI agent, Clarice. What company is going to hire you with the record Noonan is touching up for you? You know the references won't be good." She paced back and forth over the wooden floor. "Goddamn, Clarice. Hell kind of shit you trying to pull?"

"I will find a way. But I'm not going back to taking the fall for any more fuckups." Her voice took on a note of heated determination. "I'm going to give this child a better life than I had. And I'm not letting myself get pushed around like my father did!" Her breath caught in her throat, then. She stood in stunned silence, unsure where she found the words and courage to voice that deep-seated resentment and anger.

Mapp stared at her friend for a while, waiting in the silence that hung heavily around them. "We all do what we got to, baby," she apologized softly. "You just got more to deal with than most of us." A few more minutes of standing there as she made up her mind and Ardelia headed for the kitchen. "Fried chicken sound good to you?" she asked.

"Yeah." Starling nodded, bringing her thoughts back into order. "Need some help?"

"What do you think? Get your pregnant ass in here and start cutting up the chicken," she called out from the kitchen, grinning when Clarice walked in and stuck her tongue out at her.

It was another two weeks before Clarice received word from Hannibal Lecter. It came in the form of a small box delivered with the rest of her mail. She sat in the over-stuffed chair in her living room, the box on the coffee table in front of her. Curiosity and the fact that her roommate would be arriving home shortly overcame her hesitation and spurred her into action. The brown wrapper came off easily to reveal a cream-colored box, flat and not much bigger than a letter. Her fingers lifted the lid quickly, excited when she recognized the copperplate script on the front of the fine linen envelope.

The wax seal was carefully loosened, letter sliding out almost as an afterthought. Starling unfolded the single sheet of paper, vaguely aware of her racing heart and quick breathing.

Dear Clarice,

In the weeks since our last encounter, I have been occupied with finding a quiet niche in which to seclude myself. Having secured a suitable location, my interests are turning toward our reunion. It was with great reluctance that I left you so abruptly after our brief but enjoyable tete a tete

I must confess that I am curious as to whether you have returned to your old master yet. Does it disturb you to consider that side of the organization that has received the last ten years of your life and oath of fealty? Tell me truly, Clarice, how difficult is it to break the chains of a cruel and ungrateful slaver? I expect you are discovering the extent of your value in their eyes and are most likely searching for a way to sever the bond they hold over you.

Rest assured that I am planning for our next meeting, Clarice. My return to your life will mark the completion of our previous exchange. Until then, remember "'…the dear pledge of dalliance had with thee in heav'n, and joys then sweet, now sad to mention, through dire change befall'n us unforeseen, unthought of, know I come no enemy, but to set free from out this dark and dismal house of pain….'"

Ta,

Hannibal Lecter

Clarice took a deep breath as she finished reading the letter for a second time. He hadn't forgotten the way it felt to be so close, even for so short a time. Relief washed through her along with the vague thought that she should be more concerned that Dr. Lecter was intending to pay her a visit. Unconsciously, her hand settled on her belly, over her womb and the child who grew within. She wondered what he would think if he knew she had already severed those ties that held her to the FBI. He'd be proud, she thought.

Her eyes drifted back to the box resting on the table. Picking it up again, she lifted a soft layer of cotton to reveal a delicately fine platinum chain. Carefully, she removed it from its soft bed and held it between her fingers, discovering its unusual length. With a slow smile of recognition, Starling bent over and clasped the gift around her left ankle, amazed at the feathery touch the light metal dusted across her skin. She looked down to be sure it was actually on, almost invisible against her pale flesh and so light that she barely noticed its presence. Her grin spread as she settled back into the chair. The anklet, like the baby, was a gentle reminder of Hannibal. It wasn't the same as his presence, but a small comfort nonetheless.

Starling spent the next month and a half getting settled into her new job at the Alexandria campus of Northern Virginia Community College as an instructor of psychology and criminology classes. Due to the fact that she was hired at the last-minute because of a shortage of faculty, added to the publicity she'd gotten lately over the Drumgo shooting and the Lecter fiasco, her classes were full to the point that several students had to sit on the floor.

At that moment, she sat at her desk in the tiny office she had been given. Her eyes drifted upwards to look at the wall across from the door. On it she had her diplomas from UVA framed and hanging alongside clippings from the newspapers, magazines, and even tabloids—all chronicling her exploits while in the FBI. There were numerous pictures of her on raids, outside Jame Gumb's house, and, of course, Hannibal Lecter. The Lecter collection was by far the largest, taking up a wall of its own. While her FBI diploma remained conspicuously absent, she had decided to embrace her past and accept the decisions that had left such a lasting impact on her life.

Clarice realized that she had changed. No more running to "daddy" when things got rough. She was on her own now, finally. Though she still shared the house with Ardelia, she saw less and less of the woman as her new job kept her increasingly busy. She discovered that she logged more hours at this office than she ever did at the FBI, except when searching for Lecter. Students lined up outside of her door to talk to her during her consultation time. They followed her after class, wanting just a few minutes with her. She had already been asked to sponsor a new club for the criminal justice department. She loved it, basking in the attention and using it to her best advantage whenever possible.

A glance at the clock told her that she had a lecture in five minutes. Busily gathering up folders, books, and a small bag, Starling almost ran over the work-study bringing in the newspaper for her. She smiled, gave a quick apology, and stuffed the paper on top of her load. Entering the classroom with less than a minute to spare, she saw that all the seats were full, as usual. It was general psychology 1301 that was the focus of this particular group of students. She dumped her things at the table at the front and started the roll sheet passing around the room. The air in the class was relaxed and casual, most of the formalities pushed aside.

Clarice picked up a thick stack of papers from the mess in front of her and held them high. "I have in my hand your first test, graded and ready to return to you." Several moans and mumbles rippled through the group. "Don't worry. Most of you did very well. For those of you who didn't, the times and locations of study groups are still posted on my office door. I suggest you consider showing up at one." Once the tests had been returned, she began her first lecture of the day.

It was nine at night, and Clarice was getting ready to head home. She noticed the newspaper from earlier sitting amid some essays. Turning to the personals, she found the ad she had placed in the Times for the last two days. It was addressed to Milton and signed Sin. It read, "I await your word and the release from these gates—thrice threefold and encircled by fire—that hold me thus double-formed. Paradise has never been so close." She looked at it again and nodded to herself. Yes, he would understand the message that she had so carefully composed. A crooked grin lit her face. Fortunately for her, the English department was right across the hall.

Milton's verse had been easily recognized, and she had spent many hours reading and rereading Paradise Lost to find a suitable answer to Hannibal's gift. It had taken a bit of work, but she had managed to secure a Post Office box with the number 902, only caring that those three numbers were used. She could rearrange her ad to fit the order. It had worked, and she hoped to get a response soon. And if she knew anything at all about Lecter, she wouldn't have to wait long.