A/N: Thank you for everyone who reviewed. Although I'm not gonna lie, I am rather disappointed in the lack of reviews. It makes me sad.

This beginning of this chapter is from Clarice's point of view and the setting is set at an hour after the letter delivery occurred in the first chapter. The letter makes its appearance finally. Yes, the anticipation was about to kill you, wasn't it?

…but please refrain from dying.

So that there is no confusion, Hannibal's point of view (third person) starts after the 'Three days later' appears in italics. It's kinda obvious but I just wanted all of you to be aware of it.

While you read this, take a moment and reflect back on the style of Chapter 1. Notice how Clarice and Audrey seem to take a similar manner of thinking. Honestly, that is one of the very, very few likenesses they possess. Other than that, they are literally night and day from each other…with Audrey being the night and Clarice being the day, of course.

Crawford is alive in this story. I am unsure if he died in the books. Right now, I am currently reading "Hannibal". Yes, I did skip to the infamous Chapter 101. I had to see it for myself. I was so incredibly happy. Of course, that caused me to throw not one, but both of my shoes at the screen of my TV at home when I watched the movie version of "Hannibal" the following day. That, of course, was followed by a long stream of rather vulgar language mixed in with some insults aimed at Clarice herself. I'm sure all of you agree that this was a most appropriate action. I am sure that if Audrey were with me while I watched it she would have broken the TV.

Disclaimer: Look to the Prologue to find the full one. Within this chapter, I do not own the lyrics of the song 'Caged' by Within Temptation.

My heart is covered
With thoughts entangled
How could it ever have felt so real?
Is there a place more lonely than I feel within?
Could I have seen?
Could I have known?
I just took it as the truth
Everyone with a friendly face
Seems to hide some secret inside

Chapter 3: Caged

The previous day

God fucking damn.

That was the only thought that entered my mind as I slammed the door to my beloved Mustang. A reoccurring thought, actually. Fury pounded through my veins along with the left over adrenaline that always came with going to the scene of a homicide. A low, animalistic growl emitted from the back of my throat as the scene of the crime entered my mind again. It was ridiculous. How the hell could a killer be so skilled that he couldn't possibly leave any trace in any, shape, or form? I mean, I understand if he hadn't left any evidence behind, but no scent? Hell, the canines couldn't even get a whiff of him even though the body had been there for less than 12 hours. Was this guy like a ghost or somethin'? It was like he was three steps ahead of us. Like he knew how we worked, how we functioned, how we did things. I mean, seriously? It's not like we advertised what how we did things. There's no 'Learning all of the FBI's Secret Investigative Techniques for Dummies' at your nearest Barnes & Noble. A red haze threatened to completely obscure my vision as I stormed away from the muscle car in an almost childish manner, drawing attention to myself from the other agents around me. Like I gave a rat's ass. They could think whatever they wanted of me. Never stopped them before. Especially not with the whole—

I'm not even going to go there. Even so much as attempting to think about HIM was promising a violent explosion of anger that would probably result in me getting suspended and someone getting hurt. My day was already going to hell without HIS voice in my thoughts.

"Clarice!"

"Leave me alone," I snarled, not even bothering to give my best friend my attention.

I had made it to the curb when I felt a hand grip my shoulder, hard. Fiercely, I jerked it off. Ardelia should know better than to try and stop me when I was in a rampage. I had managed to put one foot in the street when two hands griped my right arm and yanked my body around. Okay, so maybe Ardelia didn't know me as well as I thought she did. If I was to be honest with myself—really, truly, brutally honest—I would say that there was only one person in the world that knew me extremely well.

Nuh uh. We are so not going there, girl.

Ardelia had either grown really stupid or had forgotten everything she really knew about me because she shouldn't have even bothered to try and follow. "Stop this, Clarice!"

"Stop trying to stop me!" I shot back, practically growling.

Ardelia balled her hands into fists. "Dammit, girl, listen to me!"

"No!"

That's when she slapped me across my face, shocking both me and the small crowd of spectators that had gathered around us. I couldn't believe it. My best friend just bitch-slapped me. What the hell? When had our verbal arguments at our shared apartment complex turned to physical fighting in the middle of the front of the FBI HQ? Well, now apparently. I drew my arm back to release a violent punch—

"Starling!"

Inwardly, I cringed at the familiar voice of Jack Crawford. Shit. This was awkward. My friend/boss walking into me about to punch out a fellow agent. In the middle of the goddamn parking lot of all places. Wait…what the hell was Crawford doing out of his office in Behavioral Science? Actually, scratch that question. The better question was why the hell was Crawford out of his office in Behavioral Science? It made little sense or reason. Well, unless something important had happened…something that had dragged him from the comforts of familiarity. I took a moment to look over at him and examine his facial expression as well as his body language. Alright, I saw fear…anxiety…concern…more fear. And all his attention was focused on me. Well, that narrowed it down to one possibility.

Doctor Lecter was back.

Grrreeeaattt. Just great.

*.*.*

"How in the hell did he do it? How the fucking hell did he, one of the 10 most wanted men in America, manage to just stroll in here—into the FBI's main building, might I remind you—and deliver a letter to my desk? With all the security guards and cameras and other agents around?"

I now sat in the middle of a table that seated eight in a spacey meeting room filled with people. Glancing around at the people in the room, I felt like I was an injured rabbit surrounded by a pack of hungry wolves. Special Agent Clint Pearsall sat the furthest from the door on one of the ends, eyeing me with a fair level distrust. (Oh, joy. I guess there's not gonna be any help coming from him.) To his left sat Larkin Wayne from the FBI's own Office of Responsibility and to his right was Assistant Director Noonan. Jack Crawford, my only ally in the room, sat nearest to me; across and to my right one chair over in a diagonal manner. There was another figure in the shadows, but I paid no mind to them. I don't care who you are; pretending to be Batman was pathetic in any line of work.

Crawford re-adjusted himself in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. I couldn't hardly blame him. If I was in his position, I sure as hell wouldn't be chillaxed. (Who was I kidding? I wasn't even at ease in my position.) "Starling—"

"He used a woman."

I turned to my right to see the figure in the shadows had revealed their self. It was a female that I unfortunately recognized as Natasha Halls, Paul Krendler's successor. What are the chances that I despise her almost as much as Paul? Was it fate or something? Are all the people chosen to be deputy assistants Inspector General of the U.S. Department of Justice jackasses? How in the hell does that happen?

Regardless, I was intrigued and shocked and…whatever that other emotion was that I was so incredibly not going to ponder on about Doctor Lecter having a…woman companion. How did she know this anyway?

Natasha continued on without even the slightest hesitation. "About an hour or so ago, a dispatcher from a local police department received a call from a receptionist that worked here, in this very building. She went off claiming that some woman threatened to kill her son because she wouldn't allow the woman to pass to deliver this letter to your desk." She took an envelope enclosed in a sealed evidence bag out of her inside jacket pocket and slid it across the table. "Handwriting analysis tells us it's from Doctor Hannibal Lecter."

No shit, Sherlock. I haven't even looked at the damn thing yet and I could've told you that much. There was only one person in world that would write to me.

Somehow—through some superhuman ability that I had not known I possessed—I refrained from rolling my eyes. I did, however, sigh with in an extremely exasperated nature. "Ms. Halls, will all due respect, if you have already gone through and read the letter, why am I here?"

"Because of the content of the letter, Agent Starling," she replied, walking over from her standing place on the wall to a spot nearer to my being. Was that a flash of wicked glee that I just saw glimmer in her eyes? Aw, hell. That can't be good. "In your report of the events that occurred at Chesapeake, did you by any chance leave out any information? Any," Natasha stood not a foot away, eyes narrowing ever so slightly, "Uncomfortable scenarios that you wished to try to cover up and/or escape from?"

For a moment, fear gripped me. How was it possible that she knew? I hadn't told anyone the full truth of what events had happened that night, not even Ardelia. It was then I realized that Natasha was hoping that I responded in a fearful manner while stumbling over words to attempt to hide the fact that I was lying. Or even perhaps act in an overly defensive manner. Regardless, I now knew that she was fishing for answers in a misguided hope to incriminate me. Slimeball. That goddamn fucking slimeball. She must have picked up that lovely trait from Paul. Halls was reminding me of her predecessor more and more ever minute that this conversation went on. You know, all that classiness and professionalism and that great direction of right and wrong that Paul had possessed.

Thankfully, but unnecessarily, Crawford actually came to my rescue. "Ms. Halls, it has been five years since that incident happened. Agent Starling was under a heavy dosage of morphine given to her by Doctor Lecter. The fact that she remembered anything was nothing short of extraordinarily. She called the police and tried to stall Lecter before their arrival. When he found out her intensions, she managed to handcuff herself to him in a last ditch effort to prevent him from escaping. Even so, he cut off his own hand with a meat cleaver and took the hand with him for an unknown reason." He leaned over the table with his hands clasped in front of him. "May we continue with the original topic of this meeting rather than asking Agent Starling to recall events that happened half a decade ago?"

Natasha's body language suggested that she was unhappy with Crawford's response, but her facial features did not betray it. When the hell did I get so observant? The Good Doctor was most definitely rubbing off on me. That thought should have made me shudder with an intense repulsion, but for whatever reason, it made me feel rather—

Nope. Still not going there. Remember Starling…you are engaged.

You are engaged. You are engaged. You are engaged.

Pssh. Nice one, Starling. Like repeating that phrase is going to change your feelings.

Oh, so you have feelings for him now? Of course, you've known that, haven't you? Especially in the Chesapeake lake house when he kissed—

I'M NOT LISTENING. I CAN'T HEAR YOU. LA LA LA LA LA—

Ignoring the childish internally battle that was raging in my mind, I managed to at least on the outside look like I was somewhat sane. "What does the letter contain that might have brought you to your earlier conclusion?"

"Why don't you read yourself?" Natasha replied, the steely edge in her voice as sharp as Doctor Lecter's Harpy.

Well, fine then you royally stuck up bitch. I'll read the goddamn thing. I had just begun to examine the letter's contents when she interrupted my silent reading. "Out loud."

I glanced up at her with an eyebrow raised before turning to Mr. Crawford questioningly. He shrugged ever so slightly before nodding his permission to go ahead. Alrighty, then. I guess I'm doing this. I took a deep breath before I began.

My dearest Clarice,

It has been a long time since our last encounter, has it not? Although we may not judge time in the same way, five years is quite a while regardless. Many things have changed, haven't they? Your reinstatement to your beloved FBI as well as your engagement to that county officer, Charles Porter. Are you attempting to flush out all that reminds you of me in some sort of a feeble effort to have a new start? Do not fret, my dear. We both know that it just as impossible for you to forget me as it is for me to forget you. Has my voice joined your screaming lambs in your dreams, Clarice? I imagine that it has. Does that make you shudder? With horror or with…pleasure? No need to answer, my dear. We both know the answer.

My apologies. I seem to have become sidetracked from my true reason of writing this letter. You always have had an uncanny ability to distract me. Let us continue:

Many things have also changed for me as well. I now have become re-acquainted with an old friend from the past. Perhaps you have heard of her? Does the serial killer name 'Archangel' ring any bells? Yes or no, Clarice? If not, do not worry. Ole Jacky boy should be able to fill you in. Unless he is there listening to you read this out loud in front of a group of executives. Do say hello for me.

Now, now, my dear, do not let the green-eyed monster get the best of you over my darling Archangel. Although it is highly amusing—not to mention dripping in irony—in thinking of you being envious over my current female companion, it does not surprise me given the aspect of our, ah, relationship. I imagine your smooth, pale cheeks turning a slight red upon reading this, either in school-girl embarrassment or jealous anger. Is this accurate? I believe that it is regardless of the fact that I cannot see you at this particular time. I know you better than most. Do not forget that.

Ta,

Your Hannibal

I could practically feel the awkward tension as I looked up from the expensive stationary. Every single one of the executives was staring at me like I was some kind of new found species. Natasha was smirking victoriously. Shit. I had just been played. Glancing over to the Crawford, I found him looking at me with wide eyes that seemed to be filled with a distrust that I had not seen in my direction from him before. Wonderful. My only ally was now in doubt. Shit. Why did Doctor Lecter have to do this to me? Did he want me to be miserable? Why couldn't he stop?

Would you ever say to me, stop? If you loved me, you'd stop?

Shut up.

"Because of the nature of this letter, we believe that you are a prime fit."

Do these people like this always talk in incomplete sentences? Like we are supposed to know what they were thinking? I mean, seriously? "A prime fit for what?"

"For Operation: Beast," Natasha smiled in a manner that sent way more chills down my spine than Lecter could ever do. "You are going to bring Lecter in by being the 'bait'. He clearly likes you, Starling. Really likes you. Use it against him." She got into my face, a threatening snarl on her lips. "And if you don't and you contact him or fail to complete the mission, I will personally see to it that you are permanently suspended from the FBI." Now the others were looking at me with identical expectant expressions on their faces. Like wolves leering on their prey.

So, let me see my options here: If I agree to this, Doctor Lecter will most likely kill me when he finds out. And if I don't agree to this, they're going to take way my badge forever.

Well, shit.

*.*.*

Three days later ~ Present day

"—we now have news that FBI officials have in fact confirmed the rumors of Doctor Hannibal 'the Cannibal' Lecter being in romantic relations with the female serial killer, 'Archangel'. The couple is now to be in an allegiance and are perhaps even in a relationship. Information regarding the exact source of this is being kept confidential by the FBI, but it has been leaked that Special Agent Clarice Starling is somehow involved. Investigators have also told us that the U.S. Department of Justice's new deputy assistant Inspector General, Natasha Halls, will be leading this investigation to capture Doctor Lecter—"

And they still have yet to update that old mug shot photo, Hannibal thought, amused, as he gently plucked the remote for the large plasma out of Audrey's slack hand and hit the mute button. He took a moment to stretch the stiff muscles in his strong arms before reaching out for the glass containing his favorite wine, Chianti, and taking a luxurious sip. Tenderly, Hannibal swept a few loose strands out of the face of her otherwise perfectly sculpted face. She was flawless in every way, his Audrey was. Hannibal smiled at that. His Audrey. She knew more about him than any other living person in the entire world did and she still loved him. Although he would never admit it, he was still completely shocked about that. Knowing what he is…what he had done…what he was capable of doing. Having been by his side all those years…

In the hospital—after Will Graham had severely injured him—visiting him from the beginning of visiting hours until she was kicked out. Even after she was kicked out, Audrey would sneak in at night and stay there until the sun's rays began to peak over the horizon, lying with him in the rather uncomfortable infirmary bed, and watching over him like a silent guardian. (For whatever unexplained medical reason, Audrey didn't need to sleep very often in order to receive a full state of rest. Whereas normally, it takes 8 hours to reach that level for a normal human, she only needed 3 hours at the very most.) He would never forget the day they carted him off. The look on Audrey's face when he was being drug away in handcuffs down the hospital's hallway still haunted his dreams.

She was also there at the trial. If she had not known what he was before it had occurred, Audrey did then. When he was being cross-examined on the witness stand, he kept eye contact with her. It kept his anger controlled. As he had once told her, she was a friendly face within a sea of sharks: a sea of sharks that drooled over the concept of him being incarcerated for life. Within the trial's proceedings, every single suspected notion and alleged accusation came forth, Hannibal found himself for the first time since Mischa was taken away gripped with fear. Audrey at that time was his world and to lose her would have ended it for him. But she didn't walk out of courthouse. She stayed there, her striking blue-violet eyes telling him words of encouragement and showing her boundless trust and unbreakable faith in him. When the verdict came, those brilliant indigo irises darkened in a rage of unspeakable vengeance much like how rain clouds block out the sun's rays on a clear day when a storm is approaching. Little did all of those imbeciles in that courtroom know, the result of his trial was inadvertently the sole cause for the rise of the serial killer, Archangel. The dark irony of it all was not lost on him.

Three nights ago, Hannibal found himself in a state of utmost astonishment yet again. He had known that Audrey had cared for him, yes. That much was never a question or a doubt. But to find out that she loved him in all of his entirety with her hear, body and soul, everything that she was... To look into her eyes and see pure, unconditional love in its truest form. A rarity so few were privileged to receiving presented to him with open arms.

Strange it was to feel again as he had long ago buried all his emotions deeply inside. Regardless, it hurt him beyond rationale pain to have to decline her love for him. To have to tell her that he was in love with her twin sister, who had hurt him unlike any other and fraternized with the enemy. But Audrey already knew that. She had known for some time now. She was quite the clever girl. Of course, he had taught her well. Oh so very, very well…

Audrey shifted her position in his lap so that her figure was snuggled closer to his body, distracting him from his thoughts for a moment. Still in oblivious sleep, she murmured his name in a blissful sigh causing him to smile. Gazing down affectionately at her sleeping form, he stroked her midnight locks, wondering briefly if she knew how much he wished he could love her as she loved him. He knew that they could have been truly happy as a couple. She was the ideal mate for him: that much he knew. Everything about her was in turn matched in his own way and manners. How it was possible to fall in love with someone that was your supposed enemy, Hannibal would never fully understand. He in no way could have imagined or would he have ever predicted that meeting in the asylum to lead to this outcome.

Ironic, he mused as he continued to watch the television. The definition of insanity was repeating the same thing over and over and expecting different results. They claimed him to be insane and yet they constantly attempted to capture him in the same manner expecting to detain him. Fools.

They all would be dealt with eventually. For now, he lifted his glass to the screen, currently showing Natasha Halls talking at a press conference. Flashing a dangerous smile, he spoke, "Let the games begin."

A/N: Review please, my dears. As you all should be aware of by now, I love having feedback.

The next chapter is when the fun begins. Audrey and Hannibal do love playing with their food before they eat it. Vampire and Cannibal. Remember that. That is the only hint I'm gonna give you.

Ta ta,

Dreamiest Nightmare

P.S. I am using Julianne Moore's Clarice Starling in this story. I do love Jodie Foster's version just as much but let's face it. JM is a tad bit older looking and just seems to fit better. I dunno. That is just my opinion.