THE CASE FILE

Hannibal sat at the antique Italian burled walnut table directly across from Clarice. He was filled with trepidation but would not show his apprehension to his spouse. No, that just wouldn't do. He remained very still, revealing nothing of his inner turmoil to Clarice as she slipped the file across the table to him.

Clarice too was filled with a certain level of fear. It was almost as if in the transfer of the case file, she had passed a death warrant to him. The material was filled with ghastly images of destruction and mutilation, images very far removed from the life they were sharing. Images that she wished to keep from him but knew she could not. Even if she could avoid revealing to him the photos contained within the file, Clarice knew there were times he could not avoid the violent visages burned into his own memory. She understood his struggle and she was afraid for him.

He reached for, but paused before accepting the material. Hannibal allowed his palm to hover above the file before touching it briefly with his fingertips as if testing the surface heat of it. He then pulled it to him, opened it slowly and began to read.

Clarice watched his eyes ignite as they fell upon the photos. It was as if she were intruding on a moment that should be solitary and as such not appropriate for her to observe.

"Do you want privacy, H?" She asked quietly so as not to disturb the quiet intensity in his expression.

He did not blink nor did his eyes shift from the evidence, tracking at an extremely high rate of speed. "It is a matter of your own comfort, Clarice. I have no need of such."

Clarice paused for a moment considering what would provide him with the most solace, her presence or her absence. She didn't want Hannibal to struggle with his inner demons alone, conversely she didn't want him to perceive that he was being observed or judged. Though she was certain he would not request solitude, it would be best if he were free of intrusion. She had all but convinced herself of such.

There are some things a man has to do alone. Especially this man…especially this thing.

"I'm going to go for a quick run. You don't need me hovering over you like a mother hen. I'll be about an hour, okay H?"

He did not acknowledge her statement, though she was certain he heard it. The rising conflagration in Hannibal's glowing maroon eyes were focused on the photos of the crime scenes. He was rage.

"They are all children, Clarice?"

"Young adults."

"And they are all female?"

"Yes, all women."

She could see the immolation in his eyes.

"You reviewed the UNSUB profile. Have you seen the name this presumptuous parasite has chosen?"

"Yeah, H… He named himself after you." Knowing this reference would cause him pain she stood beside him rubbing his back.

He noticed her concern and sought to reassure. "I am fine, Clarice. Enjoy your run. This dullard isn't very clever. Rest assured I will not be long."

"If you're sure…I'll be back in an hour. If you need me, I have my cell."

"Mind that you are careful, Clarice."

"I will be H. Thank you for doing this for me. I know that it's…difficult."

"You do not need to thank me my Love. There is not a thing in this world I would ever deny you."

Clarice left him to the flurry of emotions he was experiencing. He would need to be alone. This was not only a private matter, from the look in his eyes when he read that name… this was going to be an intensely personal matter as well.

Clarice walked outside and took a deep breath, letting it out very slowly. She had never before considered the ramifications of handing her husband a case file. She had seen many that included vicious crime scenes and she had become somewhat desensitized to it.

Hannibal's crimes in fact were savage, but on some level, justifiable in her eyes. This was gruesome as they were all so young and the post- mortem damage to the bodies had been grisly. Clarice shuddered at Hannibal's reaction, at the flaming rage she saw within him.

She needed reassurance and Hannibal would not be able to provide it. Before her run she placed a quick call to Ardelia. Her friend answered the protected cell phone on the first ring.

"Hey Clarice is everything okay?" There was concern in her voice every time Clarice called until she learned of the nature of the contact.

Clarice did not attempt to mask the concern in her own voice. She needed a friend. Even one located several thousand miles away. "So far everything is fine, Delia but I'm a little worried…He's got the case file."

"You've gotta be kidding me! I thought he refused?"

Clarice scuffed her sneakers along the ground. "He was just worried about how I would react. He's trying really hard to be…to be…"

Ardelia understood. "Normal?"

"Yeah…I guess." The morning was warm, the sun beaming on her cheeks, a light breeze buffering the heat, but there was little comfort in it for her.

"Clarice, why would he want to be normal? He's got that extraordinary mind. If he were normal…you wouldn't love him. Normal would bore you. It's because he's extraordinary that you're in love with him."

Ardelia's words were sincere and it was a factual statement. She loved him because he was different. She loved him because there had never been another like him. He was unique and unpredictable but at this moment, his unpredictable nature as well as his recent actions were cause for concern.

Clarice pressed the phone to her cheek as if it would bring her closer to her friend. "True, but being extraordinary makes it hard for him to blend in. He just wants to live his life but he's been struggling lately. I'm worried this will take him to a place he has been trying not to go. I don't want to push him to a point where he has a setback. He's made so much progress in such a short amount of time. You should have seen his eyes. I'm afraid for him."

"What do you mean he's been struggling? He hasn't hurt you has he because I'll be on the next plane down there and I'll bust a cap in his cannibal ass if he has."

"No, he would never. Actually he's the injured one. He got pretty gashed up protecting me last night."

"Protecting you from what?"

"A mountain lion…he killed it with his bare hands and his Harpy."

"Jesus…what the hell does it take to do that?"

"The crazy thing is…I think he enjoyed it. That's what scares me about this. I'm afraid for him."

"I don't think you need to be afraid for a man that can kill a goddamned mountain lion with a freaking pocket knife, do you? He's a big boy, Clarice. If he didn't want to read it, he wouldn't be reading it. Pearsall's convinced your hubby is alive and well and wants Hannibal's help. He wants us to make him an offer he can't refuse."

"What the hell would Hannibal want from Pearsall?" Clarice laughed.

"Who the hell knows, but Lloyd is researching so I guess we'll find out soon enough."

Clarice started to stretch her muscles, leaning on Hannibal's car as she spoke. "How were they planning to contact us?"

"Publication, they want to use coded ads in periodicals to get his attention."

"Hannibal hasn't been reading any newspapers. He's actually been trying really hard to avoid this sort of thing. That's why I've been a little freaked out and feeling kind of guilty to ask him about it."

"Don't worry, Clarice. There isn't anything in this world that Hannibal would do to make him risk losing you. You two have a good thing going. It isn't going to end because some little poser up here names himself after Hannibal."

"You didn't see the look in his eyes when he saw that name. I probably should have warned him."

"He isn't as delicate as you think, Clarice. I mean he lived a lot of years before you came along."

Clarice sat on the hood of the car, hanging her head low for a moment just realizing what she asked him to do…what she asked him to face.

"No Ardelia, he hadn't lived one moment until I came along…and neither did I. I'll let you know what he comes up with."

"Talk to you later, Clarice. Tell your hubby Logan says hello. He's driving me crazy up here."

"I'll tell him!"

Clarice moved away from the car, pocketed the cell phone but hesitated, wondering whether or not she should go back into the house. Maybe I'll just sit beside him for moral support.

Clarice's inner dialogue was as conflicted as she was.

No…he doesn't need a babysitter. That would be more for my needs than for his. I have to leave him alone and not worry so much. God knows he's a big boy and if he wanted me there he would have told me. An hour isn't such a long time. He said he'll be fine and I have to trust him.

Clarice mused at the thought.

God knows, huh? After a moment of seriously considering the thought she concurred. Yes… God knows Hannibal Lecter…because he guided him to me.

Clarice resolved herself to trust her husband thus she started her run. She would skirt the edge of their compound, it being large enough to run for hours without straying from the property. She was always a little wary leaving Hannibal, their runs the only time they were without one another.

Hannibal preferred to run late at night, oftentimes when Clarice was sleeping. The solitude and privacy afforded him during such times was coveted. Practically nocturnal by nature he was often quite active into the overnight hours as he did not require much sleep. In this way, he had the time alone he required without infringing on time spent with his wife.

Clarice returned within the hour, sweating profusely as much from her fear as from the exertion of her exercise. She was still very nervous as she reached for the latch on the front door, terrified that he might be upset and very concerned at the state of mind in which she might find him. She was surprised when, upon opening the door and stepping into the foyer she could clearly hear Hannibal at his piano.

She walked quickly into the kitchen to see the case file closed and Hannibal's meticulous copperplate scrolled on a pad beside the file. There were only two words.

HE COVETS.

Clarice opened the folder and looked for any additional writing from Hannibal. There on each of the copies of the Ripper's notes just next to the tiny printed name were paired names written by Hannibal.

Stanley I. Stelio- Tristan & Isolde Julio E. Morte- Romeo & Juliet

Alanis H. Pere'- Paris & Helen France H. Gusett- Faust & Gretchen

Giovanne Celleture- Lancelot & Guinevere Arimus P. Bethys- Pyramus & Thisbe

Danica Bettere- Dante & Beatrice Chanel B. Ciarlina- Hannibal & Clarice

Clarice sat at the table awestruck not only at the fact that he was able to process the material and solve the clue that she, Ardelia and Bowman could not, but at the level of decoding skills necessary to do so in less than an hour.

How the hell can he achieve this level of pattern recognition and conversion in such limited time frame? And why the hell did the Ripper include us… Hannibal and Clarice… What the hell?

Seeing her name joined with Hannibal's in black and white included in the evidence of a serial killer was disturbing. Somehow being linked to Hannibal never frightened her. No matter what anyone else believed about their relationship, it was built, from their very first interaction, on a certain level of trust and respect. She did not have that same frame of reference with this individual. Their names in his world disturbed her.

Clarice opened her lap top quickly and emailed the information to Ardelia. Within two minutes Ardelia messaged her back with only six words.

Your husband is a fucking genius!

Clarice messaged her back quickly. Keep it under wraps until I get more information.

The response from Ardelia was almost instantaneous. Okay see what else you can find out.

Clarice closed the lap top and paced back and forth in the kitchen. She wanted to interrupt his playing and ask the questions that were pouring into her mind but she thought better of it.

Leave him to calm. If he wanted to talk about it he would have remained. Let him leave this behind.

Hannibal sat quietly at the piano. He was working on Mussorgsky, Pictures at an Exhibition. He was about to reach the Great Gate of Kiev when suddenly and without reason he stopped.

Searing, molten, red hot anger filled his mind and crashed against his ears. Unabated blood poured through his memory palace, the sticky serum seeping beneath the locked doors where large red puddles fomented. His ears filled with screams. He could feel the warm metallic taste of memory, the feeling of his teeth tearing flesh.

Hannibal was alone with his thoughts.

Clarice was alone with Hannibal.

Until the next chapter my friends!

LH