5

Daylight. The pale morning sun of winter peering through a gap in her ornate curtains. Clarice looked at it and waited for reality to kick in. On retiring alone to her bed she had promised herself that all would be clear in the morning, a good night's sleep was all she needed to replenish her rationality.

She waited still drifting in and out of a doze, last night's memories gliding across her consciousness as his lips has glided along her collar bone. Rationality was apparently still on leave.

Clarice slid from the bed and padded to her closet. Lecter had filled it with things and she appraised their colours and style. More sophisticated than she was used to but exactly to her taste. She noted several pairs of shoes and matching bags and smirked. He always did criticise her shoes and now he was making sure they were up to his exacting standards. Choosing the most casual of the available items she dressed and made her way downstairs.

Hannibal regarded her lazily over the top of his book as she entered. He wore small half moon glasses she had never seen on him before.

'Good morning, Clarice, I trust you slept well?'

'No nightmares,' she replied.

'But perhaps not as fitfully as you might have liked, a little disturbed...'

She looked at him levelly in an attempt to remain cool. Lecter closed his book softly, one finger keeping place and rested it on his lap. He was stretched out along the length of the couch, dressed comfortably in pale linen. Clarice caught herself as her eyes travelled down his body and returned them firmly to his face.

'I slept fine,' she said.

He raised a hand in acquiescence. 'Of course,' he said politely.

'Got any plans for the day?' she attempted casually.

'No plans,' he said meaningfully laying aside his volume. He rose smoothly and crossed in stockinged feet to where she stood. 'Breakfast?'

'You seem determined to feed me up.'

'Food has always been a pleasure to me,' he replied moving through to the kitchen. She followed at a distance into the unfamiliar room. It was immaculate, the previous night's dinner things cleaned and cleared. 'I like to share my pleasures,' he finished.

Clarice wished she could interpret that innocently but was sure he was aware of the subtext.

'It's a beautiful day Clarice, I believe it might snow.' He was by the window surveying the weather, clear and bright with the crisp edge of impending flakes in the air. It was a bizarrely normal comment in a bizarrely odd situation.

'We should go for a walk,' she said hesitantly.



He turned, assessing her. 'Are you strong enough? Or are you merely intending to determine where we are, plot an escape?' He placed a coffee pot on the table near her.

'Escape to what?' she said, the words surprising her.

'Quite.' He was pleased with her response.

'No I think... I think I'll just stay here. That is if you'll have me,' she added aware of Lecter's penchant for politeness.

'That would be delightful, Clarice, and if you feel the fresh air would be of benefit then I would be happy to accompany you today.'

She stirred her coffee.

-- --

'People often find it easier to talk while moving,' he said conversationally as they went, 'It is convention to walk side by side with a companion and this eliminates the need for eye contact.' She felt him turn to her, 'Some find it offputting.'

They had gone a little distance from the house but already it was almost obscured by trees. A winding and rough path lay before them and the sound of the water she had heard on her arrival was growing louder. There had to be a stream nearby. By her side, inches away but refraining from touching her, Lecter walked smoothly, a banded hat and sunglasses obscuring much of his face and casting it into shadow.

'I've never had a problem with eye contact Dr.'

Why is it, Mason Verger's mangled features had asked from his bed, that you can look at my face but you shy from the name of God?

'No,' Lecter agreed. 'Even so I believe it is time you began to express yourself. You are rested and your wounds are healing... I checked them myself,' he confessed. Clarice subdued her response, the thought of his eyes and hands running over her body, examining her.

'What do you want Dr?' she asked.

'Me? Oh very little Clarice, very little. The question is more what do you want.'

'Knew that was coming.'

'Very good Clarice you're catching up.' It irritated her that she was happy to have pleased him. 'Mind the step.'

They had reached the banks of the stream, larger than she had imagined it to be, and three make shift steps had been carved into the drop to the water. An electric shock ran up her arm as he took it and helped her down. The air was cool but there was no breeze to chill them and he had wrapped her warmly before they left the house.



'Did you ever skim stones as a child, Clarice?'

She glanced up at him, 'Huh?'

'How inarticulate of you,' he mocked, 'Stones... across the water.'

'A few times,' she replied evidently confused.

'I did too.'

Clarice hesitated as an image of Lecter as a child crossed her mind. She supposed he had to have had a childhood, she just hadn't considered it before believing instead that he had been born a fully formed monster in adult shape. He sensed her confusion and chuckled, casting a stone expertly across the surface of the stream where it bounced once, twice, three times and vanished.

They were standing on pebbles and close to the water several larger boulders stood above the level of the ground. He moved to these now removing his coat and draping it over one, seating himself on the other. 'You shouldn't be standing too long Clarice.'

'Won't you get cold?' she asked before she had realised.

He looked at her in bemusement and made a small tutting noise, 'Such concern,' he said. She ignored him and sat down. 'I am used to the cold, Clarice.'

'Didn't they have heating in gaol?'

'When they chose to use it yes. It was one of Dr Chilton's petty tortures to turn off... but I was not referring to Baltimore, bitter as it can be in January.'

'Are you...' she paused searching for the words, 'Are you having a two way conversation with me Dr?'

'Don't I always?'

'Usually only under duress.'

That laugh again. She amused him, but not in such a way that he was amused by her faults, there was no malice in his tone.

'Do you feel we are under duress now Clarice? Is this merely another game of quid pro quo?'

'No,' she admitted. Her guard was dropping, she couldn't help it. The longer she was in his company the harder it was to convince herself to remember his reputation. He was eroding her with kindness and his unique brand of charm, and as much as it irked her she was ashamed to say she rather enjoyed it. It had been many years since anyone had taken the time to speak to her this way.

'Clarice I believe we are getting to know each other,' he said, 'Outside of work.'

'Is that what you consider what you do? Work?'



He turned and she caught the shadow of his eyes beneath his dark lenses. 'Not quite,' he said, 'But each of us has different personas Clarice. You are different now from how you are when you are at home, different there from how you are when firing bullets at drug dealers... no?'

'Yes, but I'm still fundamentally the same person.'

'Are you? I think you delude yourself Clarice. I think you joined the FBI to get away from the person you were. But it's not so easy to escape is it?'

'Where was it cold?' she said deflecting his question. He had struck a nerve and she was not yet ready to deal with it. It registered with him but instead of pressing on her weak spots as she had expected he merely replied.

'Lithuania.'

'Lithuania?'

'It's where I was born Clarice. And before you asked yes we had heating there too... but not during the war, there was a distinct lack of warmth then.'

Was she really hearing this? Was Lecter revealing things about his life? She looked at him wondering if he was deceiving her, trick her into complacency.

'I don't lie Clarice, you know how I feel about lies, I would rather say nothing than stoop so low.'

'You lied about the people you killed.'

'Have you read the casefiles?'

'Yes,' she had, all of them, for hours.

'Then you know I admitted to them immediately.'

'But you hid them for years.'

'I said nothing for years that is true, but Clarice...No-one ever asked.'

She almost laughed in disbelief. 'No-one ever asked?'

'It's not a question people pose in polite company, Clarice.'

Well polite company was where he spent most of his time. She almost had a fit of the giggles then and there. Hannibal Lecter, world renowned killer lay undiscovered for years because nobody asked. She caught his smile and tried to hide her own.

'It strikes you as amusing? Well that's a good sign.'

'Of what?'

'You always needed to get more fun out of life, and now I think you are... so am I right? Did you join the FBI to escape little Starling as she once was.'



Clarice sighed, the merriment draining out of her. 'Yes, I suppose I did.'

'And how did that work out for you?'

'OK at first, not so OK later.'

'That's succinct Clarice, would you care to expand?'

'Not really,' she bent awkwardly and lifted a pebble tossing it into the stream beside them.

'You throw like a girl,' he drawled.

'My dad always said that.'

'The FBI is over for you, you know that Clarice.'

'Yes.'

'So are you back to the beginning, are you that small town rube all over again?'

Clarice looked him in the eye. 'You tell me you seem to know the answer.'

'I do yes, but I need you to know it too.'

The realisation settled suddenly on her shoulders as she looked at him. Job gone, friends estranged, family dead, a husband and children that never were, lost to the disaster that was her career, and just last week her life had hung by a thread. She couldn't go back, there was nothing to go back to and she sensed that if she tried she would be haunted by him, this conversation and others, a feeling of eternal 'what if?'

'Dr Lecter?'

'Yes,' he was watching her intently, she was prey.

'I know.'

A beat, a watchful beat. She felt exhilarated, as though waiting for his answer or his permission. Somehow he held the key, he had held it for years idly, waiting until she asked for it back, keeping her at a distance until she could bear it no longer.

'It's not going to be easy, Clarice.'

'I know that too.'

'You are condemning yourself to an altogether different life if you stay.'

'Yes.'

'The opposite side of the law you worked so hard for, for so long.'

'I know all of this Dr.'



He considered her. 'Maybe you do, maybe you will come to know yet.' He let out a small sigh and slowly removed his sunglasses folding them neatly into the pocket of his shirt. His eyes sparkled with the reflections of the stream and something else. She found she couldn't look at him, the emotions etched more clearly than before on his face; still subtle by any normal standard, but there, she was sure of it. She tried to resist the urge to reach out and touch his arm, tortured by the need to respond to him as any other human being but cautious in his presence. She focused instead on her hands, pale in the cold air, and listened to the ripple of the stream by their side.

She felt more than saw him move and looked up cautiously. He was standing by the edge of the water, head slightly bent so that the brim of his hat cast shade over his eyes. Both hands in his trouser pockets he watched his own shoe as dragged across the pebbles and then lazily kicked them away. Was he lost in thought or was he waiting still?

Clarice stood and took a step forward, the few paces between them taking a lifetime to cover. She swallowed and made the last few steps until she was standing before him, her back to the stream, the cool air from its water a breath against her legs. He met her eyes but remained expressionless until she gathered the courage and slipped her arms through his, one at a time, circling him. To her relief he responded, drawing his own arms up her body until they rested around her waist, pulling her gently to him. Her mouth felt dry and she slid her tongue over her lips anxiously uncertain of how to make the next move.

'Clarice,' he said softly, 'perhaps I can make this a little easier for you, after all,' he glanced at the boulder where she had been sitting. It was feet away though she could have sworn it had been at least a mile. 'You've done the hard part,' he finished. 'May I?'

For a second she wasn't sure what he was asking and then the realisation dawned like white heat in her belly, she felt her heart thud once against her chest in painful excitement and managed to nod.

'Is that a yes, Clarice?'

'Yes...' she managed.

His lips were on hers almost before she had spoken. Firm but surprisingly gentle, caressing her, teasing, his tongue slipping deftly into her mouth before finally permitting her to enter him in return. Clarice pulled him taut against her and felt his arms grip in response, his hands strong on her hips, the small of her back, between her shoulder blades, gliding along her body in a quest to bring her nearer. She felt herself grow breathless at his touch and a tremor began at her hips which seemed to run the length of her legs.

Lecter pulled away from her gently and smiled, touching her dishevelled hair and smoothing it back into place. Clarice blushed.

'I think you've been out in the cold long enough,' he said, and they turned back towards the house.