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CLARICE'S BECOMING

There was an unspoken silence during the car ride back from Quantico. Clarice surveyed her husband carefully. Hannibal didn't speak instead he immediately began to play Mozart over the car's stereo. Raising the volume, he left no room for conversation.

Clarice sat quietly beside him, not in obedience or supplication instead determining whether or not her suggestion that Hannibal meet with Bloom was in fact a good idea. She too was intensely curious as to why he seemed distracted, brooding even. When she reached for the volume control of the car's stereo to pose the question, without saying a word he stayed her hand with his.

Clarice considered him carefully, his expression reflecting a level of turmoil she had not seen in quite some time. She remembered their home in San Martin de Los Andes. The night she slapped him and he flew into a rage. Much the same way that holding her calmed him that evening he seemed to be using the music to self-sedate. She removed her hand and left him to whatever emotion had hold of him. She could see a spark of relief in his eyes.

Thank you, Clarice.

Hannibal was enraged at Pearsall's suggestion that his child with Clarice would have a possible genetic abnormality. This child would be Hannibal Lecter IX. He could search his past with pride, descended from generations of nobility. This child would be born of Clarice, a true warrior. This child would be exceptional, far more than any whelp Pearsall could produce from his sub-standard genetic foundation.

Still, Hannibal imagined Pearsall's child as he had seen her. A sweet small girl, not much older than the years Mischa had attained. Hannibal would never have suggested there might be anything wrong with her. It offended him that Pearsall had spoken so candidly. Regrettably he had promised not to respond with anger or recrimination though he wanted nothing more than to respond with his Harpy.

Hannibal parked in front of their home, exited the vehicle and dutifully moved to the passenger side of the car. He opened the door and assisted her egress. Clarice paused and laying her hand alongside his face kissed him gently. He lowered his head and touched his forehead to hers.

"Clariiice…" he managed clearly overcome with an overwhelming mix of emotions, "…not yet."

Clarice held his face just a moment longer then let her hand slip away. Hannibal stepped aside and allowed her to pass. He then moved up the few steps and opened the home to her as well.

Clarice, knowing her husband, did not speak nor did she question why he went to his music room and began to play. She didn't grow concerned until it was time for their meal and he had not yet come out. The music he was playing was also cause of some distress as his musical choices often reflected his mood. The selections were ominous, baleful, melancholy dirges of the most depressing kind, minor keys mirroring the human voice the phrasing and roundness of the notes sounding as if the instrument were crying out Hannibal's anguish.

Clarice could take no more. She stood outside the door and waited for his acknowledgement.

It took no more than a few seconds. Within the music room Hannibal's nostrils flared. He lifted his chin high and turned his face from one side to the other as if he could inhale her scent with the very pores of his face.

"Yes, Clarice?" he asked quietly.

"Can I sit with you for a moment?"

"Of course you may."

Clarice entered the music room and approached the bench as if approaching an altar. Hannibal returned to his playing.

Clarice sat on the bench beside him and watched him play. Hannibal's hands flew across the keys, his arms raised and crashed down like the fallen limbs of trees as his thundered to the piece's end. After pounding out the last chords he slowly drew his hands back and placed them, palms down, on his thighs.

"Pearsall believes our child will be a genetic aberration," Hannibal stated with no emotion inferred.

"What? He actually had the balls to say that to you?" Clarice's emotions need not be inferred as her anger was plainly felt and even more plainly seen.

"Yes. Additionally he offered that you were throwing your life away as little more than my house maid and that the birth of our child may or may not be a worthwhile effort as the child's DNA includes mine."

"He said all that and you did what?" she asked, dumbfounded by the statement.

"What would you have me do? I had given him my word that I would not respond with anger or injury. I am attempting to prove that I am not a threat to society, Clarice."

"Yeah…well I don't have a goddamned thing to prove. You go back to playing. I'm going back to Quantico. I didn't promise that mother fucker a goddamned thing!"

Clarice stormed out of the music room, and stalked through the house looking for her keys. She spotted them in the kitchen on the breakfast bar and gripping them in her fist, hooked her purse over her arm and headed out the door. Hannibal was no more than two steps behind her.

"Clarice…this isn't necessary."

"It is absolutely fucking necessary, H…I've eaten that man's bullshit for a lot of years. No one is going to talk to you like that and no one is going to talk about our baby like that. While I'm gone you should probably give Will Graham a call. His phone number is written on the pad next to the phone."

Clarice sped off in her Mustang. Hannibal beamed with pride, his heart warmed with immense satisfaction. His cub was grown. Pearsall was about to feel her claws.

HANNIBAL'S LIONESS

Clarice stormed into Pearsall's office. There were two young agents sitting in chairs in front of the desk as Pearsall lorded over them from his strategically higher position.

The young men sat bolt upright when they saw Clarice. It was obvious they not only recognized her but were excited to be in her presence whispering to each other as Clarice approached Pearsall.

"What can I do for you Starling?" Pearsall quizzed unsuspecting.

Clarice slammed her palm on Pearsall's desk then wagged a threatening finger at the shocked Deputy Director.

"That's Mrs. Hannibal Lecter to you, you absolute piece of shit! You might want your Agents to excuse themselves because after the crap you shoveled in my husband's face today I don't intend to hold my tongue."

Pearsall nodded and the young men staring in awe at Clarice, even more so hearing her berate their feared Deputy Director, took their leave. Clarice didn't even wait for the door to be closed before she charged across the room and poked her finger repeatedly in Pearsall's chest.

The young agents looked over their shoulders and laughed like frat boys. They were scuttling one over the other through the doorway like crabs in a bucket obviously excited to be the first to relay the story of Pearsall's shaming to their friends.

Clarice raged, "Who the fuck do you think you are talking to my husband the way you did today?"

Pearsall stepped back with his hands held up in surrender. "He told me to be honest with him…I was honest!"

"Honesty has dignity and truth. You were slinging innuendo and insults. You're lucky he made you that promise."

"Are you saying that if he hadn't he would have attacked me?"

Clarice stalled. This was not the path the conversation needed to travel.

Time to regroup.

"Let me rephrase that. You're goddamned lucky my husband puts the safety and well- being of me and the baby above everything else. Had this been just a year ago…he would have excised your thymus and sautéed it with wild mushrooms and white fucking wine."

"I'm sorry Clarice. I didn't think about what I was saying. It's just…when I'm that close to him…he unnerves me. I'm sorry. I'll apologize."

"Don't you dare fucking bother. He's over it. I'm not," she warned.

"I can't believe he told you all of that." Pearsall was contrite and embarrassed.

Clarice slammed her purse on the empty chair beside her. "He tells me everything so keep that in mind the next time you tell my husband that I threw my life away on him and that our kid is going to be some kind of a goddamned science experiment!"

Pearsall nervously smoothed his hand over the back of his neck, "Yeah…I shouldn't have said those things."

Clarice paced in front of the desk with her hands balled up at her sides. She was raging over the things Hannibal told her and understood why he was so upset when they first arrived home.

"You shouldn't have thought those things! Do you know how hard it is to be him? Do you have any fucking idea what he goes through during the course of the day to make me happy?"

"I don't know. How could I?" clearly overwhelmed, Pearsall sat behind his desk in surrender.

"He would have probably had a much easier time living out his life somewhere in a quiet country where a few American dollars would've bought him a lot of pleasure and even more silence. Instead, he subjects himself to public disdain, scrutiny and the insults of assholes like you all because he loves me."

"Yeah, well it isn't like he is totally innocent Clarice. Your husband killed people and ate them."

"He never once complained about being incarcerated or being tortured by that asshole Chilton and while he was being brutalized he was helping this agency solve the cases that Bloom and the rest of the fucking morons you all bow down in front of couldn't handle. The next time you sit behind that desk pushing papers around spouting off about how many lives he's taken why don't you sit back and count all the lives he saved. Good bad or indifferent people know who Hannibal Lecter is. No one knows who the fuck you are Clint and I think it sticks in your craw a little that no one ever will."

Clarice turned around, slung her purse across her shoulder like she was adjusting a gun holster and without another word stormed out of the room.

Outside the offices of the F.B.I. Clarice revved the throaty engine of her custom Mustang feeling absolutely invigorated. For months Hannibal had been fighting for her, attempting to alter his very nature to be an acceptable mate and father. This was one of the few times that she was able to defend him. Mrs. Hannibal Lecter smiled as she stomped on the gas pedal spinning the wheels of the gift her husband purchased her. As she surged from her parking space Clarice felt the baby kicking within her. She smoothed her hand over her swollen abdomen and spoke softly to their child within.

"That's right little man. You and I just kicked some ignorant ass for Daddy tonight. Now let's go home and tell him about it."

Clarice began the ride back to Baltimore feeling satisfied having torn Pearsall apart. She was certain Hannibal would be proud of her. She believed the 'fuck you' to Pearsall, was as good as any 'I love you' ever spoken to her husband.

Hannibal followed his wife's advice. Waiting for Clarice to return home he picked up the receiver and dialed the number by the phone. He smiled to himself as Will Graham answered on his end.

"Well hello, Will. I have a favor to ask."

"What can I do for you Doctor Lec…" he corrected himself, "Sorry, what can I do for you, Hannibal?"

"The meeting with Bloom is tomorrow afternoon. Your presence I'm sure will be requested."

"He has already contacted me. I have a meeting with him in an hour."

"That brings me to my favor…"

Graham understood the nature of the request before Hannibal needed to speak it.

"I'll stop over as soon as the meeting is concluded. By then I'll have an accurate idea of what we're looking at and we'll get your game plan together based on the information I can gather."

Hannibal smiled, "Thanks Will…I knew I could count on you."

Hannibal heard the Mustang.

Clarice entered the home and tossed her keys on the table beside the front door.

Hannibal hung up the phone and peaked around the corner to see Clarice putting her purse and coat in the closet.

Hannibal opened his arms. Clarice bounded across the room and laying her hand alongside his face as she had earlier, kissed him and allowed her husband to fold her within his embrace.

"So…my playful cub has sharpened her claws."

Clarice buried her face against his chest, "All over that asshole…like he was a scratching post."

Hannibal understood her need to handle the situation. He was in awe of her Becoming. She was now everything he believed, so many years ago, that she would be. Hannibal kissed the top of her head and beamed with pride.

He answered her defense of him in the only way necessary. Hannibal Lecter pulled his wife against his body, his arms wrapped securely around her. As he hugged his beloved wife tightly to him he exhaled a deep, satisfied sigh. A low rumble like the purr of a mighty cat rolled within his broad chest, humming against her ear.

"I love you as well, Clarice."

Hannibal could feel her smile move across his chest. His once precious cub…all of the deadly tools wrapped in the playful innocence of her youth had now been fully realized. Her potential fulfilled within his arms, she was now his lioness.

He would never let her go.

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Until the next chapter my friends!

LH