A light knocking sounded on Jack Crawford's office door, and Ardelia walked in.
"Hello, Mr. Crawford. Can I talk to you about something really quickly?"
"Sure, Agent Mapp. Sit down."
She took a seat in front of his desk. "You care about Clarice, right?"
"Sure."
"You're going to that banquet tonight?"
"For a little while, at least. It's not really my thing, so I was planning on leaving early."
She took a deep breath and lowered her voice a little. "Look, don't let this leave here, okay?"
"Okay," he answered, suspiciously.
"I need you to kind of keep on eye on her tonight."
"Why?"
"Her boyfriend. He's... he's not a good guy, Mr. Crawford. It's not really my business to say more, but I'm worried about her, and if he does anything, there's not much I can do. He's not scared of me, and I don't want to get physical. Since he's such a male chauvinist, I thought it might help if a man was involved."
"What kind of "not good", Agent Mapp?"
"Well, I couldn't tell you for sure because she won't really tell me... But if you've looked at her lately, you'll know what I mean. Look, she'd kill me if she knew I came to you about this, so I really shouldn't say anything else. And I've got to go anyway. Just, keep an eye out, please?"
He nodded. "I will... If you don't mind my asking, how did someone like Clarice end up with this guy?"
Ardelia sighed. "I'm not really sure, to be honest. At first, when she would talk about him, he seemed like a really nice guy. They were together for a long time before anything even a little weird happened. One day, she came over and there was a big bruise on her arm. When I asked her about it, she kind of just avoided the question. A few weeks later, it happened again. I wouldn't let it go so she finally told me that Andrew had gotten drunk and hit her. She said he apologized a lot and it was just a freak thing. I told her she needed to get rid of him, but they had been together so long that she really thought she needed him. I don't know. It kept happening like that, and recently I noticed she was wearing more make up than usual. She wouldn't tell me what really happened, but it was pretty obvious. They've been together for two years now though. I can't get through to her."
"Wow, okay. Yeah, sounds like a typical abuse case. I'll try to watch out tonight... Thanks for letting me know, Ardelia."
"Hey, Clarice!" Ardelia called as Clarice and Andrew walked into the banquet.
"Hey," Clarice smiled.
Ardelia shot a hateful glance at Andrew then looked back to Clarice. "C'mon, let's go say hey to Crawford." She took Clarice's hand.
Clarice blushed, knowing what she was trying to do. "No, that's fine. I'm going to stay with Andrew."
Ardelia sighed. "Suite yourself. I'll be back in a second, 'kay?"
"Sure." Clarice gave a half-hearted smile.
Ardelia walked to Agent Brooks, greeting him, all the while with an eye on Clarice.
Andrew stayed behind Clarice, always with a hand on her in some way. Clarice kept on a straight face though she was always thinking of what could go wrong, and spoke to her friends while Andrew followed. He was introduced to most everyone, smiling, giving a masterpiece of a first impression, playing the role of the perfect guy. After a long period of friendly discourse, they moved out, away from the crowd.
"Want something to drink?" she asked.
"If I wanted something to drink, I would've asked for something," he replied, irritated with her foolish question.
"I'm sorry, it was just question," she said very quietly.
"Just keep your mouth shut."
"Hey," Ardelia scolded, "Don't you talk to her that way."
"Ardelia..." Clarice discouraged.
"This isn't your business," Andrew snapped.
"Hmm, that's funny, I don't remember asking if it was," Ardelia retorted.
"Ardelia, please. Everything's fine," Clarice said, giving her a look that begged her to stop.
Ardelia took a deep breath, then turned and walked away without another word. Andrew took Clarice by the arm, pulling her farther out of the crowd and close to the door.
Andrew glared. "You need to tell that bitch to mind her own business."
"She didn't mean it, Andrew, and she's not a bitch."
"Are you arguing with me?"
"No - no, I was just -"
"I didn't ask for an argument. Just shut your fucking mouth, got it? No one wants to hear you."
"I'm sorry."
"Hey, I said shut it!"
"I was just -" she was interrupted by his palm against her face.
"I said shut up."
"What was that?" a male voice berated.
"Who the fuck are you?" Andrew hissed.
"My name is Jack Crawford, and I'd like to know what's going on over here."
"Nothing's going on, sir," Clarice mumbled.
"Did anyone ask you?" Andrew snarled.
"No, I just -" Again, his palm silenced her. This hit was much harder, and caused her to stumble.
Crawford pulled out a small pistol and directed it at Andrew. "I think you need to leave."
"Clarice, tell this shit head to put his toy up."
Clarice didn't say anything.
Andrew turned on her with a vicious look in his eyes, staring for a moment before turning and leaving. Once he was gone, Ardelia hurried over, and grabbed Clarice's arms. Crawford lowered his gun, and moved toward them.
"God, Clarice, are you okay?" Ardelia asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine," she whispered, turning away timidly.
"Hey, let me see."
"No, that's fine. Really, it's nothing."
"Let us see what he did, Clarice." Crawford commanded.
She obeyed instantly, and looked at him, revealing a blatant red hand print across her cheek. Crawford shook his head.
"Jesus, Clarice. Why do you let him do this to you?" Ardelia pushed, examining the mark carefully.
"It's nothing. Don't worry about it," Clarice mumbled, pulling away.
"It's not nothing. It's bad, and I don't like it."
"Well it's not your relationship, okay?"
"It's not a relationship. It's an ownership."
"I need to go now," Clarice replied, walking away.
"Do you need a ride, Clarice?" Crawford asked. "I wasn't planning on staying long anyway."
"You can't just let him do this," Ardelia called.
Clarice played with her hands a moment. "Yes, sir, I do."
"Let me just grab my coat. Wait in here until I can walk you out."
"I can walk myself out, sir," Clarice recoiled.
"I know you can, but it's more polite for a man to walk a lady out."
Clarice sighed, waiting until Crawford returned and walked her out to the car. His eyes scanned the surrounding area, and he found what he had expected. Andrew was sitting in his car, glaring at them acrimoniously. Crawford shielded her from his gaze. The ride home was silent until they pulled into her driveway.
"Look, Clarice, if you ever need anything, and I mean anything, just give me a call, okay?"
"Thank you, Mr. Crawford, I really appreciate it." She opened the door and got out.
"Hey, Clarice?"
She turned back.
"Give me a call."
She gave him a faint smile, wishing she hadn't understood his meaning, before closing the door and walking in. Once inside, she removed the make up from her face then the rest of her, revealing the many bruises he had already made. She fell asleep in tears.
A heavy knocking woke her up. She jumped up and examined her face in the mirror quickly, then went to answer the door. It was Andrew. She unlocked the door, and he threw it opened. She startled.
He pushed her back suddenly and slammed the door. "The hell was that about last night?"
"What do you mean?"
"Don't play dumb, bitch. You know what I mean. And where's Superman at?"
"What are you talking about, Andrew?"
"That douche who took you home. Where'd he run off to?"
"It wasn't like that. He just drove me home."
"The hell, he did!" He pushed her again.
"I promise, Andrew. He just dropped me off."
"Stupid cunt. You're such a whore, you know that? You're lucky I stick around."
"But Andrew, I didn't -"
"Just shut up, stupid hick."
"I'm sorry."
"You should be. You don't deserve me."
The phone rang. Clarice picked it up, and took a deep breath, trying to sound calm. "Hello?"
"Clarice, hello, this is Jack."
"Oh, uh, I don't think now is a good time."
"We need to talk about it, Clarice."
"Yes, sir, I know, but not right now."
Andrew came into the kitchen. "Who's that?"
She moved the phone away from her mouth the slightest bit. "No one."
"Is that Andrew?" Crawford asked.
"Bull shit, Clarice. Who is it?" Andrew pressed.
"It's my boss," she answered shakily.
"You're a lying slut." He walked over and snatched the phone from her hand. She protested, reaching for it, but he slapped her. "Stay the hell away from my girlfriend, understand?"
"I think she can speak for herself," Crawford replied bitterly.
"It's that cocksucker from last night!" Andrew shouted.
"Yes, that's Mr. Crawford, my boss!" she cried, fearful of his wrath.
"You fucking whore." He slammed the phone on the counter.
"No, Andrew, please, I swear -"
"Shut your fucking mouth," he demanded.
"He's my boss, Andrew, I swear he's my boss!" she pleaded, stepping back with each of his advances. She hit the next counter and pressed against it as his hand slapped her face again.
"You fucking slut." He punched her face.
She caught herself on the counter, trying to stand. He took her hair and threw her onto the ground. Curled into a ball, she waited for his next attack. It came with his foot jamming into her stomach. He stepped over her, and she heard the door open and slam. She remained on the floor for a long time before finally standing. Hunched over, she made her way into the living room and collapsed onto the couch. It wasn't long until another knock sounded on the door.
She didn't call out or get up. She didn't want to talk or see anyone. The door opened anyway.
"Clarice?" Crawford called, closing the door behind him and walking in.
"Mr. Crawford?" she inquired weakly, struggling to sit up.
He walked into the living room.
"Clarice, are you okay? Where'd Andrew go?" He came in and helped her up.
"I'm fine, sir. What's going on?"
"He didn't hang up."
"What?"
"I was still on the phone when he beat you, Clarice."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
He gave her a look. "He's not here to hurt you. You can tell me."
"He didn't hurt me."
"Clarice, I can see the marks."
She cursed inwardly, remembering she wasn't wearing any make up. "It didn't hurt."
"Let me help you, Clarice. He can go to jail fo -"
"No," she interrupted. "I need him."
Crawford was dumbfounded by her statement. "You don't need him, Clarice. You're a very independent woman - at least , you used to be. You've never needed anyone. He's only doing bad to you."
"No, he's not. You don't understand him like I do, Mr. Crawford. He's just going through something right now."
"I don't have to understand anyone who does this," he motioned to her body. "to someone. I know he doesn't care about you if he's doing this. You deserve so much better than him, Clarice."
She had tried not to let the tears flow over, but there were too many. "I think you should go now, Mr. Crawford."
"I'm just trying to help you, Clarice. I care about you."
"I appreciate your concern, but this is my life." She had shut down. He couldn't get through to her. "You should go so he doesn't see you here. He'll think something else."
Crawford hesitated, but stood. "I mean it, Clarice. Call me if you need anything. Even if it's protection, or a place to stay..." When she didn't respond, he sighed and turned to leave. "Or a ride to the hospital."
Andrew returned around one with a case of beer.
"C'mon, baby, come overr'ere," he slurred.
"What do you want?" she asked, obeying anyway.
"Cum'ere." He pulled her hips, drawing her between his spread legs. He grabbed her arms with a painfully tight grip, brought her face close to his, and placed a rough kiss on her lips. "C'mon, baby."
She kissed him back and put her legs on either side of him, kneeling on top of him. He ran his hands from her thighs to her lower back, then let them rest on her hips. A beeping went off somewhere distant. She pulled away the slightest bit.
"I think that's my phone," she whispered.
He ignored her, and pulled her back. His hands took her shirt off and threw it to the ground. The beeping went off again. Again, she sat up.
"That's my phone. I need to answer it."
She got out of his arms and made her way into the bedroom, putting on her shirt. She had hoped the alcohol in his sytem would keep him seated.
There was a text from Ardelia. "Hey, let me know when you're free. We need to talk."
"Tellthe motherfucker to go'way."
Andrew's voice scared her, and she spun around to find him stumbling through the door.
"I'll be back in just a second. You should sit down," she noted.
"Don'you tell me what't'do!" His palm slapped her face, causing her to fall to her right.
She caught herself on the bed, back toward him. His fist collided with the back of her head, sending her face into the bed. She struggled to stand. He grabbed her arms and threw her against the wall.
"Stup'd cunt, f'cking w - whore." He slammed the bedroom door.
Around midnight, she stood weakly, and made her way to the bed. A hand wrapped around her mouth, and another around her stomach gently, not putting much pressure on the bruises. She didn't react, too used to abuse, though she could have easily broken free.
"Don't scream, Clarice." She stumbled forward upon release, and he caught her, careful of the bruises. "You don't seem to be doing too well, little lamb."
Clarice said nothing.
"You may speak openly to me, Clarice. You've never held back before."
"I'm sorry, sir," she answered responsively.
"Mmm, this is rather interesting... Care to explain, Clarice, and the bruises, for that matter? And don't lie, or I'll know." He winked playfully.
"I was in a raid, that's all." Again, the answer was instinctive, as if she had planned it.
"I see, and I suppose it was the raid, then, that turned you to such unquestioning, slavish obedience?"
She looked down.
He took another direction. "Your boyrfriend, Andrew, he's good to you, I presume?"
Again, no answer.
"Let's play a game, Clarice. Remember quid pro quo?"
"Yes, sir."
"It's your turn, my lamb."
"I don't think you should stay here, Doctor Lecter, in case Andrew comes home."
"Now, Clarice, this isn't his home."
She looked away.
"Guess it's my turn. Is he good to you, Clarice?"
"Yes, sir."
"What about these bruises, then? Remember, no lying."
She swallowed, still refusing eye contact. "He just had a bad day."
"I must admit, I am rather disappointed in you."
"Why?"
"I would have assumed you were above this."
"Above what?"
"Men like Andrew."
"You were wrong," she choked.
"Apparently."
Her eyes darted around the room as her tears spilled over.
"Why are you with him, Clarice?"
"I need him."
"In what way?"
"I love him. He loves me."
"He doesn't love you."
"You don't know him -"
"Like you do? I'm not sure you know him either, my dear."
"You don't know him at all."
"I don't have to know him to know that he doesn't love you, my lamb."
"How?"
"Because I love you, Clarice, and I'd like to make him suffer for doing this to you. I couldn't do this to you if I wanted to."
"He just had a bad day," she cried softly.
"It seems to me that he hasn't had a good day..." He made a clicking sound. "You're too good for him, I think."
She shook her head the slightest bit.
"You were quite intelligent, as I recall, and you're very strong and independent... You're also much more beautiful than you think. I'm not sure Andy has very much to brag about. Still working for the F.B.I.?"
"Yes, sir, but I think you should leave. Andrew might come back."
He paused for a moment. "I'd like to silence those lambs, Clarice."
She gave him a quizzical look. "The lambs aren't screaming, Doctor Lecter."
"My lamb is."
She stared, trying to perceive his meaning. He smiled sadly, and walked away. Only a few moments passed before the door opened, and footsteps sounded in the hall.
"Why're you's - s - still up?" Andrew yelled suddenly.
"Sorry." She got in bed.
"C'mon, baby. Let's do'it now." He climbed in after her and removed her shirt.
A knock sounded on Clarice's office door as she got ready to leave. Jack Crawford walked in, closing it behind him.
"I wanted to speak to you for a minute, if that's alright."
"That's fine. Sit down."
He did. "How have you been?"
"I'm well, and yourself?"
"I'm fine." He sighed. "Look, this facade isn't fooling me, Clarice. I know what's going on. I saw it, and I'm not pleased."
Clarice put her elbows on the desk and leaned forward on her hands. "Mr. Crawford, I'm just going to be frank with you. I'm a grown woman. I can take care of myself, and I don't need you babysitting me."
He leaned back, smiling a little. "You want to know something funny?"
She gave a questioning look.
"You haven't seemed so much like yourself in awhile."
"How do you mean, sir?"
"Well, it seems to me that you're more yourself here in your office than you are in your own home."
"Mr. Crawford, I'd very much like not to discuss this with you."
"I'm sorry, Clarice, but I work for the F.B.I., I can't just sit back and watch this. And aside from that, you're my friend, and I care about you."
She leaned back and looked at the floor.
"I don't want him to hurt you."
"I know." Her jaw clenched and unclenched visibly.
"When are you going to see him again?"
She sighed. "He's picking me up."
"Today?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do you want him to?"
Her throat tightened. "No."
"I'll take you home."
"He'll be mad."
"Let him be. I'll protect you."
"Mr. Crawford, I really don't think -"
"Do you want me to?"
She swallowed, and took a minute to reply. "Yes."
"Then I will. Don't worry, Clarice. I have a gun; Andrew has fists. I have the law; Andrew is a criminal. Everything will be fine."
She sighed. "Okay."
"Let me just grab some things from my office, okay?"
She nodded.
Crawford opened the door, letting Clarice out before him.
"Thank you," she mumbled, standing aside for him to walk before her.
"Everything's going to be fine."
Clarice stayed behind Crawford, desperately searching the parking lot. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of Andrew.
"Ready to go, Clarice?" he called, obviously holding back his anger.
"Mr. Crawford's driving me home, Andrew," she replied nervously.
"What?" His tone conveyed pure hatred as he stepped towards them.
Crawford placed himself in front of Clarice. "I'll take Clarice home today."
"What's going on, Clarice?"
"Nothing, I just - I just forgot," she faltered, stepping towards him.
"The hell you did," Andrew snapped, grabbing her arm.
"Andrew," she pleaded.
"Shut up. It's time to go." He pulled her roughly towards his car.
"Please, stop," she whimpered.
"Get in the car." He pushed her against the trunk.
Clarice said nothing, but stepped back timidly.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"I'm not going home with you," she said quietly.
"Get your stupid ass in the car," he demanded, grabbing her by the arm and thrusting her forward.
She pulled back. "No."
A slap echoed through the parking lot. Andrew was pulled back by his shoulder abruptly, and a fist collided with his nose. While he stumbled back, Crawford again put himself in between Andrew and Clarice.
"Clarice," he called, "go wait in the car. I'll be there in a minute."
She obeyed.
"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Andrew shouted.
"Jack Crawford, F.B.I. Nice to meet you. If you'd like to pick a fight, be my guest, but I can assure you, the law is on my side."
"Clarice is my girlfriend. You'd better stay the hell away from her."
"She's my agent, and I'm going to insure her safety."
Andrew said nothing, returning to his car. Crawford waited until he had left before getting into his own car.
"You alright?"
"Yeah... Thank you."
"I told you I would protect you." He reached out to pat her, but she flinched away. Hesitating, he placed his hand very gently on her shoulder.
"Do you want me to get some ice for your hand when you drop me off?" she asked shyly.
"Oh, my hand's fine, thank you."
"It's swollen."
"So are you."
"I don't really want to talk about this right now, Mr. Crawford," she mumbled.
"You don't want to talk about it at all, Clarice, but we need to."
"He just gets angry sometimes."
"I get angry too, but I don't hit people. And it looks to me like he's always angry."
"He's not."
"What on earth pissed him off today, then?"
"He thinks I'm sleeping with you."
"I'm your boss, and anyone who knows you knows you wouldn't do that."
She didn't reply.
"Listen, Clarice, you need to break up with him."
"I know."
"You know?"
"Yes."
"But you aren't going to, are you?"
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"I still love him... and he'd hurt me."
Jack sighed and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "Call me next time he tries to hurt you, okay?"
"What will you do?"
"Get in the way. At least I can fight back, or make him stop."
"How?"
"I have a gun, Clarice. I don't have to shoot him, but he won't do anything with a barrel to his head."
"Okay."
"You'll call me?"
"Yes."
Clarice locked the door behind her, and went into the bathroom. She leaned against the sink and looked into the mirror at her frightful appearance. Her eyes were red and clouded with tears, she looked tired and weak. Her hands were still shaking, and there were red marks on her arms. After washing and drying her face, she looked back at her reflection. She was shocked to see a man standing behind her. She spun around.
"Doctor Lecter?"
"Good evening, Clarice. I see your bruises have increased. Andy's still having a bad day, I presume?"
"Yes, sir."
"And you're still letting him?"
She swallowed.
"I see your efforts in speaking have only slightly improved."
Again, no response.
"You should fight back."
"How do you mean, sir?"
"I'd prefer to see you damaged from a fight, rather than a beating. If I recall correctly, you were very strong, Clarice."
"Mr. Crawford said I should call him next time."
"It's a shame, really, that you so assuredly know there will be a next time."
Clarice's expression distorted suddenly into one of utter terror.
"Who the fuck's this? Another boss of yours?"
Doctor Lecter turned around smoothly, and smiled. "Just an old friend." He walked calmly passed the raging man.
"Fucking ho!" he shouted, grabbing her by the arm, and throwing her onto the bedroom floor. "Just an old friend, right?" He kicked her stomach.
She lurched forward, but tried to stand. Andrew grabbed her arm, and threw her back onto the bed. Catching herself, she was suddenly taken by a new motive. She lunged forward, punching him hard in the jaw. He stumbled back, giving her time to run towads the phone on the opposite side of the bed. She grabbed the phone, but a hand latched on her arm and spun her around.
Andrew took the phone and threw it across the room. She tried to punch his stomach, but he caught her hand and punched her face. Stumbling back, she was impacted by another fist against her ribcage. She grabbed his next swing, twisted his arm, and forced an elbow into his back, causing him to fall to the floor. She ran for the phone again, but he caught her ankle. She collided with the carpet.
Before she could stand, Andrew was above her, pounding the back of her head and back with his fists. She sat up, knocking him back, and again reached for the phone. He took her leg and flipped her onto her back. She kicked his stomach, and he fell back. She turned over and darted for the phone. He took her arms from behind and pulled her up. She pushed back, causing them both to fall back. He held her down against his chest. Clarice bit deep into his arms. He let go, and she leapt up, turning around to hit him. He took her wrists when she lunged, and used his feet to throw her over himself. She crashed into the drawer.
Andrew stood, followed rapidly by Clarice. Her fist collided with his nose, and she ran passed him, finally reaching the phone. She dialed Crawford's number, but Andrew snatched the phone away, and tossed it towards the door. He seized her by the hair, pulled her up, and pounded her head into the wall viciously three times.
"Fucking hick! Worthless cunt!"
Suddenly, he let go, dropping her to the floor. She looked up, dazed and sick, to see another man behind him.
Andrew stumbled back, twisted in a disturbing display of pain, and fell against the wall. Doctor Lecter, holding a bloody knife, glanced at Clarice, then turned back to Andrew. There was some strange presence in Doctor Lecter's eyes as he bent before the man.
"A shepherd can't let his lamb be treated in such a way, now, don't you agree, Andy?" he teased. "It seems to me that you're not so much in need of this. You haven't been using it appropriately." Doctor Lecter held Andrew's mouth opened with one hand, and slid the knife in with the other.
Andrew cried out as Doctor Lecter removed his tongue and smiled. Andrew tried to fight, but Doctor Lecter caught his hands, held them down, and ruthlessly cut each off.
"Yes, and these were rather misused, don't you think, Andy?"
Doctor Lecter then laid Andrew down, and placed his hands around his neck. Andrew began to choke on his own blood as Doctor Lecter stood, went into the bathroom, and washed his hands. He returned quickly, kneeling before Clarice.
"You killed him," Clarice said softly, a horrified look on her face.
"I hope you can forgive me, my lamb."
The front door opened. Hannibal was gone before she had time to react. Crawford moved into the empty living room.
"Clarice? Is everything okay? Where are you? My car broke down, but I'm here. Are you okay? Clarice?"
He walked hurriedly down the hall, coming to Clarice's bedroom. He froze at the sight that met his eyes. Andrew laid still on the floor, arms without hands, mouth covered in blood. His removed hands lingered on his own throat. His eyes were opened wide and fearful. Clarice, bruised and bloodied, was half-sitting a good distance from him, staring in disbelief.
"Clarice..." Crawford breathed, struggling not to see the sight before him.
She shook her head, unable to speak. She heaved suddenly at macabre sight, which caused Crawford to move towards her. He lifted her from the ground and held her.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
She started to cry. "I don't know."
"Did you kill Andrew?"
"No!" she cried, weeping more.
He pulled her close, trying not to hurt the bruises. "There's no one else here, Clarice. Who did it?"
"Doctor Lecter did it," she sobbed.
"What?"
"Doctor Lecter did it."
Crawford took a deep breath. "I need to call the police, then I'm going to clean you up, okay?"
Crawford laid her down, and walked into the hall. Clarice struggled to sit but was too broken. Images played over in her mind, and she could see the events that had just occured. She gagged again, feeling ill all over. When Crawford returned, he knelt beside her.
"What happened here, Clarice?" he asked gently.
She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.
"Everything's okay," he soothed, helping her sit up.
She groaned at the amount of pain experienced in movement.
"Are you sure you can't tell me what happened before back up arrives?"
"Andrew attacked me," she began, voice barely above a whisper, drowned by fear and pain. "I fought back this time. I tried to call you, but he kept coming. He just kept coming," she choked out. "I don't remember everything, but Andrew was hitting my head into the wall when Doctor Lecter came. I remember falling and looking up to see Doctor Lecter. He did it all."
"Clarice, if you did this, tell me now. I don't want to arrest you. I can get you out of this."
"I didn't, Mr. Crawford. Doctor Lecter was here. He didn't wear gloves. There's got to be evidence."
"Okay. I believe you. You've never given me any reason to doubt your word, and you've always been an outstanding agent. There's no reason not to believe you. Everything's going to be okay."
A rush of air brushed against Clarice's arms as she stepped into the night. The motel was silent, most of the occupants were tucked away in their rooms, sleeping soundly. The pain from her injuries kept her awake most nights, but tonight had been worse than usual. She had decided to get ice from the machine in hopes of soothing the wounds. Since everyone else was asleep, she retrieved her ice and turned back quickly. As her eyes traced the cold cement path, her mind wandered over the events that took place after her last encounter with Andrew.
When back up arrived, she had been taken immediately to a hospital. She sustained a great deal of damage from Andrew. Because of her past with the F.B.I. and her boss's input, her word was taken and they questioned her very little. Doctor Lecter purposefully left plenty of evidence to insure Clarice's safety in the ordeal. Though a case was opened, everyone in the bureau knew that Andrew's killer wasn't going to be found. Doctor Lecter had been slipping through their fingers for years, and there was no reason that would stop now. After learning more about the case, most people thought Andrew had deserved it anyway.
Clarice hesitated after opening the door. Had she turned out the lights before leaving? It seemed unlikely. She would've known that would be a frightening way to return to a motel room after midnight. Preparing for the worst, she flicked the lights back on. The room seemed empty at first glance. She leaned forward to set the ice down.
The door slammed, and Clarice jumped and spun around quickly. The man smirked, stepping carefully out of the shadows.
"You seem well, little lamb."
"Better, sir," she replied shyly.
"Sir? That is rather odd, don't you think, Clarice? To respect the man who killed your lover?" he pressed.
She looked away.
"Please, speak your mind, Clarice."
"Who says I respect you, Doctor Lecter?" she asked, meeting his eyes again.
"You make it very clear."
"How do you mean?"
"The tone of your voice, the way you always refer to me by titles or my full name, the fact that you never called the police, and that you continue to do all three after I murdered your lover."
"I didn't love him, sir."
"You seemed rather sure of your love before."
"I was just so scared of being alone. He was there, even if he was bad, and I just wanted to prove to myself that - ... nevermind."
"That you what, Clarice?"
Her eyes scoped the room nervously. "Doctor Lecter, you said something before, and I just kind of wonder..."
"If I meant it? The answer is yes, Clarice, I do love you. Now, finish your statement."
"I just wanted to prove to myself that I didn't love you."
"And what was your answer?"
"I was wrong, sir."
"I see, and how did you come to this conclusion?"
She sighed. "I knew I loved you after you saved me from Mason Verger, but when you showed up again... I was kind of happy even though I knew I shouldn't be."
"What do you plan to do about these feelings, Clarice?"
Clarice grinned coyly. "That all depends on what you'll let me do, Doctor."
"And the F.B.I.?"
She shrugged. "It took them long enough to figure out about Andrew. They don't have to know anything, sir."
Hannibal stepped closer again, bringing his lips to hers. His hands took her arms gently as he pulled her close and began to move their bodies back. They sat on the couch. Clarice pulled back.
"Doctor Lecter... I can't..."
"That would be rather discourteous, don't you think? I don't want you for sex, my dear."
"Thank you... Doctor Lecter, may I ask you something?"
"What is it, Clarice?"
"Has your lamb stopped screaming, sir?" she asked inquisitively.
"Yes, I would say so."
"Me too." She smiled and pulled his lips to hers again.