AFTERMATH

Ardelia stared at the email Clarice sent incredulous that the names, which appeared on the surface to be viable identities were actual anagrams. She researched each of the paired names Hannibal had identified.

That brilliant son of a bitch…we would have never found this. How did he see this so quickly?

Ardelia processed all of the information Clarice forwarded. She researched each couple. Forbidden or star crossed lovers each pair being either a couple from history or from classic works of fiction; all considered to be great and or tragic love stories. Hannibal and Clarice were the only contemporary references.

First principles…simplicity, Hannibal wrote 'He Covets'. He covets what? Women…he covets couples…lovers? This twisted bastard can't actually think he's going to find a girlfriend this way? Although indirectly, I guess that's how Hannibal found …No way…Hannibal and Clarice! He's looking for his Clarice.

Ardelia sat down and composed an email for Clarice with questions to ask Hannibal. She was not expecting an immediate answer. Clarice's last email told her that Hannibal was spending some time alone after reading the case file.

It must be hard being so brilliant, but so damaged…that must be really hard. At least now he has Clarice to help him.

She hit send, gathered her files and left to meet up with Logan.

He already thinks Lecter is a god! He'll die when he hears how fast he solved that clue.

UNLOCKED

Clarice became very concerned when she realized that Hannibal had stopped playing the piano. She waited patiently, hoping he was searching for another selection. After five minutes passed without event she decided to listen at the door. She walked softly through the kitchen and into the hallway, stopping just outside the music room.

The door remained closed. Hannibal heard the movement yet remained silent.

You know I'm here. Why don't you say something to me H?

He was of course, aware of her presence, but he did not call for her. She touched a hand on the door, paused for a moment giving him the opportunity to speak. She strained to detect any movement, any response, but none would follow.

Hannibal lifted his head up the moment he sensed her presence but he was careful not to respond. He would not face his wife when he was feeling less than stable. After that night in the bedroom when he broke the mirror and punched holes in the walls he believed she would be prudent and not approach him.

She placed a kiss on the door, as if touching it to his lips, patted the spot gently, turned and left him alone.

Hannibal could hear the whisper of contact. His heart ached but he did not trust himself to go to her. The anger still white hot, burned in the center of his chest the hollow of it so empty that he felt his ribs might cave. There was no room for love. No room yet for Clarice.

Not now. Not yet.

He left the piano and moved to sit on the oversized leather couch just beneath the built in bookshelves. He sat quietly, lowered his head, laced his fingers, rested them on the back of his neck, and pulled his head down until his chin pressed against his chest. Hannibal rested his elbows on his knees; his mind swirled with a tornado of images, each more savage than the other.

He kills females… young women. An Impotent animal much like his father. He needs to suffer.

Hooked metal ripping tendons, limbs grasping, shredding, muscles twitching, tearing, blood foaming, gurgling he imagined what he would do if he had him. He would crush the life from him and sleep all the better for having done it.

He concentrated on his breathing and his pulse, managing to slow each. His heart rate was steady. The adrenalin posed the most pressing problem. During his so called crimes he allowed his adrenaline to flow freely having had little need to limit its production or monitor its output.

The massive surges of adrenaline had been a tremendous predatory advantage. He was able to tap into strength and speed belying his sleek frame. Not to mention the thrill of the hunt it provided him with. He had enjoyed the rush of it and never had cause to concern himself with it prior to his relationship with Clarice. The problem being, what gave him tremendous advantage as a predator was proving to be a distinct disadvantage as a husband.

He needed to find a way to work through this without compromising Clarice's happiness or her safety. If he was going to remain by her side, he must be able to control this process. He could not chance that he might harm her. She was a fighter and that made her dangerous to be around when he was feeling less than in full control.

Hannibal's brilliant mind returned to the Ripper, spinning with scenarios he found himself glad that he was not in the United States. He thought it better that the temptation of reaching this miscreant was removed from him. He would not chance losing Clarice for this man…for any man. Still the thought of slipping his Harpy between the ribs of this depraved individual and piercing his villainous heart was tempting to say the least.

It is better I am not near… that I cannot reach you. Name yourself for me because you believe I am dead. You'll soon wish for death. I know who you are… Stuart…if I am given the chance you will die the same pathetic death as your father. You will pray for death on your hands and knees as he did.

Hannibal closed his eyes, unlocked his memories and allowed himself the pleasure of reliving the death of Stuart's father, clearly remembering his eyes wide with terror, rolling back in his head as he choked out his last breath. Hannibal was actually quite bored and it amused him greatly at the time. He believed Stuart's death would amuse him at least as much, because he murdered girls…maybe more.

Clarice would not understand. Though… if he told her about Stuart's father… she might.

Worried about Hannibal, Clarice padded quietly around the house trying to keep occupied with the chores of the day. She believed he remained separate from her because he was worried about his reaction to the file. Remembering the night he broke the mirror, she recalled how quickly he calmed when she held him. She believed it might work again.

Clarice decided that she would wait just a little longer, but not too long, an hour at most. He was suffering, she was the cause of it and she would not leave him alone to it indefinitely. No matter what that meant for her. If he needed to rage…she would let him rage, but she would not allow him endure this level of distress alone.

Hannibal listened for Clarice as she moved through the house. He wanted her. When she paused at the door again, he was curious as to what she would do. He would not call to her although everything in him wanted to say her name.

Clarice…

Her scent was heavy in the air. He breathed deeply, sighed and waited.

Still there Clarice… Why?

He was surprised by her continued presence. He would be more surprised when she spoke. Clarice whispered very softly to the closed door.

"H? You said there were no locked doors between us."

Brave Clarice.

He held his breath. The thought of death surrounded him.

I want you but… you shouldn't be here.

His heart pounded a slow thumping beat. He took a deep breath and gathered the words he had spoken to her before.

"It is not locked, Clarice. It is merely closed."

She touched the door. "Closed to me?"

"Clarice…" Just her name but said in a way that showed his tremendous need for her in a way obvious only to her.

"I know, H… I know…"

He did not speak. He needed her. He wanted her. He would not call for her. Blood filled his eyes. He was afraid to be with her but equally afraid to be without her.

She must choose.

Clarice waited patiently for a response but upon receiving none, and never a woman to play it safe, she decided she had to chance it.

He will never ask for help. He doesn't know how to.

She was sick to her stomach that he was alone and Clarice would stand for it no more. Consequences be damned, he would know that she cared. Holding her breath, she opened the door slowly and stepped into the darkened room.

Her husband was on the couch, his head remained down, careful to hide his glowing eyes, unmoving. Clarice walked very slowly across the room, her eyes never leaving him. He did not react.

She sat beside him but did not move to touch, instead sitting very quietly listening to Hannibal breathe. It was slow and steady. Several minutes passed before she reached out to him. It was a tentative touch at first, just a tender hand she gently rested on his left shoulder. Her hand remained quietly in place for several minutes.

When Hannibal did not react negatively, Clarice allowed her hand to slide across his back to reach his right shoulder. Again, she waited. Hannibal leaned into her slightly. She could feel the deep thump of his slowing heartbeat. His only response was a deep, ragged, inhalation followed by a long, straining exhalation.

Don't fight me, H.

Her arm remained in place as she waited, again allowing several minutes to pass.

Hannibal sat with his head down and his fingers still tightly laced, pulling his head down, locked tightly within himself leaning slightly into his wife.

Finally, Clarice reached her left hand across the front of Hannibal's body and gripped his shoulder. "I trust you, Hannibal… please…trust me."

She felt a shudder move through his body.

"My Love…"

She pulled him into her arms, his head still covered.

"Shhhhhhh…Trust, H."

Hannibal's body trembled slightly as he rested his head on her breasts. The rhythm of her heartbeat and the pattern of her breathing calmed him. Clarice held him quietly and gently stroked his hair back from his face. She placed light kisses on his forehead.

His hands dropped. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around his wife and held her tightly. All he could manage was her name.

"Clarice..."

"I've got you, H. I've got you. I'm here…I won't leave you."

She held him for hours, neither of them moving, each clinging to the other, his need her only concern.

As the setting sun filtered into the room, the deep colors of twilight radiated through the blinds, Hannibal Lecter woke with his head resting on his wife's stomach, his arms still wrapped tightly around her. They had stretched out quite comfortably on the large couch, but the bed would be infinitely more accommodating to their needs.

Hannibal stood and lifted Clarice. She draped her arms around his neck and allowed him to carry her to the bedroom. He set her on the bed and took his place at her side. Clarice looked into his eyes for the fearful volcanic glow. It had now been replaced by the familiar maroon with a tinge of warmth.

"How do you feel, H?"

He winked at her and flashed an impish grin. "I feel with my hands Clarice."

"Is that an offer or a statement of fact?"

"An offer, if you are interested."

"Hell, I'm interested, H…very, very interested."

THE OFFER

Ardelia had been sound asleep when she heard the phone ring. Logan answered it on the second ring. He had been playing video games and was trying to make sure not to wake Dee.

"It's your dime, your time." It was Logan's traditional way to answer the phone.

"What?" Bowman answered unsure of what was just said.

"Is that you, Bowmeister?" Logan cheered.

"Yeah, hey Loganator, is Dee still up?"

"No, she went to sleep right after… umm, no she's sleeping."

"I need you to go and wake her up."

"Dude, this is not cool! She's a beast when someone wakes her up."

"Logan it's about Lecter. Wake her up and tell her I know what we can offer him."

"I'll bring her the phone that way if she loses it- you get blame, not me. Hang on."

Logan went to the bedroom and stood beside Ardelia.

"Dee, wake up. Bowmeister's on the phone. Says he has something you can offer Hannibal."

Ardelia sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes. She took the phone and waved Logan away. He left the room quickly, thrilled that he dodged her anger.

"Go, Bowman and this better be good."

"Got your cell nearby? Check what I sent you."

"Okay, hang on." She placed the home phone on her pillow and reached for her cell.

Ardelia tapped at her phone and read the information Lloyd forwarded.

"Holy Shit!" She yelled out loud. She dropped the cell and grabbed her home phone.

"Lloyd, are you kidding me? Is that even possible?"

"It's been done before. You could make a strong argument that Lecter deserves it. Between helping Graham with the Hobbs and Dolarhyde cases and working with Clarice to catch Gumb, he's helped us save a lot of lives…especially if he can bring the Bashandi girl home."

"Lloyd, if this works, you're a miracle worker."

"If this works…I want to be the first person to shake Lecter's hand when he lands at Dulles."

Until the next chapter, my friends!

LH