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Chapter one

The heavy rain abated a little and Clarice Starling had to face the unavoidable truth; she had no other excuses left. There was no way around it, though she had tried her best to put off the moment she would have to knock on Doctor Lecter's door as long as possible.

She was in a small cozy cafe on the street where his office was located. Starling needed strong coffee several times a day to function properly, so the cafe had been her first stop – and then it had started raining, giving her another excuse to sit in the warmth and wait. She had spent the past half hour doing nothing else but sending unhappy glances across the street, watching the rain and sipping her coffee.

Her mind was still swirling from the unexpected turn her career took two days ago.

Starling was wary when "The Guru" himself had wanted to speak with her – immediately. She met Jack Crawford in the corridors daily and remembered him well enough from his guest lectures at UVA; however, she couldn't imagine what he could want specifically from her. The head of the Behavioral Sciences Unit did not invite rookie agents in for friendly chats.

"Mr. Crawford, sir… Hello." She entered his office.

"Ah, Sterling!" He looked up from his papers and motioned her to sit. "Oh, sorry, it's Starling, right?"

"Yes sir, no problem, sir."

Starling sat down and watched him. He looked like he usually did – solemn and gray. His hair was salt-and-pepper, his tie grayish blue, and his waistcoat bluish gray. His eyes were dead just as they had been since the moment his wife had passed away.

"You must be wondering why I summoned you here."

"It crossed my mind, sir." Starling shrugged a bit. She did appreciate a break from cataloguing new files, of course, but Crawford made her uncomfortable. She couldn't tell why, it just was; and this whole situation seemed fishy to her – and she relied heavily on her instincts.

"How are you settling in the Bureau? No troubles, I hope?"

"Fine, sir, I'm just fine."

"Good, glad to hear that, Starling." He smiled a little and then buried his head in his papers again. "I remember you wanted to get into my department. You still do?"

Starling answered without any doubt, "Very much, sir."

He grinned, "That's great, Starling, I've kept an eye on you. You're doing well. In a year or two you could get in here on your own, but I've decided to help you along a bit."

"Well, thank you, sir, but if you don't mind me asking… Why?"

Crawford chuckled and shook his head: "Oh no, ask, always ask, always question everything. That's a good thing, Starling. To answer you, I have my reasons."

He closed the file and pushed it towards her. "Read."

Starling took it. The first thing she saw was an opened torso with all the insides – outside. Her eyes moved over the picture without flinching for she was aware that Crawford was intensely watching her, gauging her reaction.

After a minute she turned the page and was greeted with a photo of another massacred body. And then, another, and another.

"The Chesapeake Ripper, sir?"

"Yes."

"Why are you showing me this? It's a cold case, isn't it?"

"Get to the end, Starling."

Calmly, she did and then she halted, eyes widening. There was a new victim. With professional interest she read through the new information and then closed the file, carefully putting it on the desk in front of her. Her eyes found Crawford's.

"How do we know it's him? It could be a copycat."

"It's not, Starling, and that's why I summoned you here. I want you on my team, working on this case."

She gazed at him in disbelief.

Rookies are always stuck pushing papers and conducting surveillance in the rain. The lucky ones get their hands on a bit of real work with senior agents. To slog through the groundwork is a slow and painful process, and Starling was just beginning.

"Why me, sir?" It was a logical question.

"You have the right instincts, that's why." Crawford took off his glasses and started polishing the lenses. "The only way to sharpen them further is to put them to good use. You could be pushing papers for months and it would get you nowhere. But what I want you to do is to be outside, working on your own and gathering info. You got it?"

"I got it."

"Good." He put his glasses back on and harshly added: "Make no mistake; you screw up and you will be pushing papers for years. You do well and you have a permanent spot in my department guaranteed."

"Yes, sir." Starling nodded and refused to be intimidated by his cold stare.

Now, he smiled and leaned back in his chair, watching her almost fondly: "I remember you, you know, from the UVA seminar. You'll do well now, too, I'm sure, Starling."

"I'll try." She chuckled a bit.

"All right, back to the point. Have you studied the case?"

"I've kept an eye on it as reference material and out of professional curiosity. So, I am familiar with the basic facts."

"Good, go look at the details, then." Crawford nodded, pleased. "We haven't expected him to make an appearance again and after so many years, no less. I hoped he was already rotting away somewhere, but here we are. I trust you know what happened to your predecessor?"

"Predecessor, sir? I thought I would be only assisting?"

"There will be others on the team, of course, but you are a trainee no longer, Starling, you are now a full-fledged investigator. Get used to it." He looked stern again, though she saw amusement flickering in his eyes. Maybe Crawford wasn't that bad after all.

"Sorry, sir."

"Well, do you know what happened to him?"

"He didn't end up well." Starling was not a gossip, but from what she had gathered about the legend of the BSU profilers, he hadn't been exactly stable – and one cold winter morning, Special Agent Will Graham had been found frozen to death on his porch.

"Graham was a genius, Starling, with instincts sharp as a razor." Crawford frowned a little. "But he had some issues – not that I'm saying anything bad about him, he was a friend, Starling, a very good friend."

"I understand, sir."

"Anyway, do you know Doctor Lecter?" He looked uncomfortable when he asked this and his eyes moved round the office as if it was a topic he would rather have avoided.

Starling watched him for a few moments before she very carefully answered: "I have heard of him, but I've never met him personally."

It was a good thing, she supposed, because she was not particularly impressed by what she had heard. Lecter was a brilliant psychiatrist, of course, but a very whimsical person.

"Good." Crawford nodded to himself and took a deep breath. "I want you to become our liason with the external experts, so you can get the right feel for your work. Your first task is to consult Dr Lecter on the case."

"Excuse me, sir?" Starling gaped at him a little, but recovered quickly. There were lots of stories going around the Bureau, some of them were concerning The Guru and his absolute dislike for externals in general, and for some names in particular.

"Lecter's input would be a great asset to us, Starling." Crawford looked like he had swallowed a bitter pill. "He worked with us in the past, as you know, and he and Graham were very close to solving the Chesapeake Ripper case."

A beat of silence, then: "I didn't know that Dr Lecter was back on board, sir."

She shifted. After Graham's death, Lecter had stopped actively working with the FBI, even made a fuss about it, too, and, finally, refused to be associated with the BSU in any way as long as Jack Crawford was in charge. Since that unfortunate event, which had delayed several ongoing investigations for which Lecter also had been the other external psychology consultant, Crawford preferred to have his own unit of the best experts available, without the need to rely on anyone outside the BSU.

Now he gave an impression of being in severe pain. "He is not…yet."

Oh, great.

"That door must have done something terrible," said an amused voice above her and Starling looked up to see a man standing close to her table – he stepped even closer so another customer could pass him and head for the exit. He smiled pleasantly and gestured towards the unoccupied chair opposite her.

"Hello. Would you mind if I joined you? It is not my usual modus operandi, one could say, but you look very unhappy about something and I'm afraid I am rather curious by nature." He had an intense penetrating gaze and intelligent eyes which were studying her closely.

Starling inspected him with the same carefulness; he was heavily built and dressed in a classy dark brown suit with a shirt a shade lighter and a striped tie. His dark hair and smooth face belied his age, though she guessed he was somewhere in his forties or early fifties. In one hand, he held his hat, and his coat was draped over his arm.

She had very little doubt about his identity; though she was a bit unsettled by the fact that she hadn't noticed him inside the café. He did have a strong presence and she was an FBI agent, for Christ's sake. She should have spotted him immediately, not given him enough time to observe her sitting there and sending disgruntled glances towards the front door of the building where his office was.

Lecter patiently waited for her permission, which Starling gave a second later with a nod of her head. "Yes, of course, please."

"Thank you. So, what has that poor door done to you?" He settled down, laying his fedora on the table between them.

Starling knew he knew who she was and that he must have guessed why she was there. She wasn't trying to conceal her gun holder and the badge on her belt, both visible for anyone who looked for it, and her clothes, a plain two-piece suit, simply screamed 'government employee on a low salary'. It didn't take a genius to figure this one out.

"Nothing in particular, I guess."

"Oh, well, that is a good thing, I guess." He mocked her slightly. "It's not an easy task to extract revenge from a door, or so I've heard. Are you from West Virginia, by any chance?"

Starling's eyebrows shot up and she couldn't shake off the feeling he was being contemptuous – not obviously, but she was used to this sort of behavior from some of her rich and city-bred classmates, and some of her colleagues. She tended to ignore it. Mostly.

"You have a fine ear for accents."

"It's a hobby of mine." Lecter clicked his tongue, watched her thoughtfully and added: "I am supposedly not bad listener, either. Perhaps you wish to share your troubles with me? Now, if you are thinking why you would do that, let me say it's sometimes easier to talk to someone unbiased, in other words, a complete stranger. Their insight is usually closer to the true state of things than your own conclusions could ever be."

"So you're all ears, right?" Starling asked with amusement. His own statement only reminded her that the good doctor was certainly biased.

"Right." Now he was imitating her accent completely, the arrogant ass, and he winked, smiling and showing his small, sharp and perfectly white teeth. That smile made her feel very uncomfortable, as if there was something else hidden behind it. It took her a millisecond to pinpoint why – it did not reach his eyes which had a suspiciously calculating gleam in them. In that moment, Lecter reminded her of Crawford and his awkward look when she had been informed of her first task.

Starling suddenly had the unpleasant feeling that she'd been caught in the middle of their petty little tug of war. Dammit, she was nobody's pawn!

"Well, why not?" She said and looked down into her cup. Let's play, then. The thought was exhilarating, made her blood sing; Starling never backed down, never gave up. She enjoyed the challenges life threw at her, and playing with Lecter was a challenge indeed. She chose her next words carefully:

"It's this… complicated relationship I've suddenly found myself involved in."

"Yes? Do continue, please." He encouraged, and when she looked up into his face, she noticed that now he was truly amused, his eyes shining with interest at what else she could come up with. He was enjoying their banter, wasn't he? She knew she was. It was fun.

"Is it a lover's quarrel?"

"Oh, definitely. Though I should probably say it's not my relationship, I just got stuck as the go-between."

"Hmm, interesting. How does it make you feel?"

"Oh, I don't know. Annoyed, mostly."

"Understandable."

"Yes?"

"Very much so. Is that all?"

"It's rather amusing as well, I think."

"How so?"

"Two grown people… one would have thought they could solve their differences without dragging others into it. I imagine their conflict could even have a negative impact on their duties for, you see, they are not colleagues exactly, but their cooperation might be needed from time to time. Doesn't such a behavior strike you as childish and silly?"

His face became impassive after Starling's first sentence and now he was watching her coldly. It looked like the doctor certainly didn't like when the tables were turned.

"You possibly cannot be one of Jack Crawford's, can you?" He narrowed his eyes. "I'm sure he would have sent some very polite goody-goody who worships the ground he walks on, with very precise instructions not to antagonize me in any way, and yet here you are, insulting us both and with great satisfaction, if I may say so."

"Is the truth insulting to you in any way?"

This time it was Starling who narrowed her eyes and they measured each other for a second. Something in his look shifted dangerously and her heart was suddenly frantically beating; she felt threatened but couldn't logically explain why. It was as if her instincts were screaming at her to back off, to shut the hell up, to run.

"You are a very frank person, Agent, so allow me to be frank, too. It is not about what you think to be the truth; that is your personal opinion to which you are entitled by the law, and according to the law, you can speak it freely. Whether you should do it or not, well…it is not just the way you present it that is lacking…actually, the fact you are presenting it at all is what I find insulting. Someone of your age and station is in no position to be passing judgments on those superior to them."

Lecter leaned over the table, so he could lower his voice and whisper:

"It's very rude and discourtesy is unspeakably ugly to me."

"I am not passing judgments on Mr. Crawford, or you, Doctor Lecter."

"No? And pray tell, what were you doing, then?" He clicked his tongue again and watched her as a hunter might watch his prey.

"I apologize for giving that impression, sir." Starling cast her eyes down momentarily and then looked up at him again. Lecter was unmoved by her apology. She could feel her cheeks turning red, though not in embarrassment. "It was an observation. You are right, Doctor, that it might have been said too bluntly, but haven't you said it yourself? Aren't unbiased third party's insights closer to the true state of things than conclusions of a party involved could ever be?"

Doctor Lecter sat there unblinking for a short moment, simply looking at her as if he suddenly saw her in entirely different light, but then shook his head. "Now you have my attention, Agent. May I see your credentials?"

Starling passed her ID to him while trying to appear unconcerned. The searching gaze made her feel even worse for she did not know what he'd been looking for and what he had found.

"The ink on this hasn't even dried yet, so to speak, Agent Starling." He observed. "Crawford sent a rookie to me?"

"I graduated recently, yes."

Lecter looked, if she could voice her own observation, both extremely annoyed and offended, though she was not sure what was more galling to the doctor. Was he offended by the idea of Crawford sending him nothing more than a rookie, or annoyed by the fact that the rookie had outsmarted him?

"What does he hope to achieve, anyway? I made myself perfectly clear eight years ago, although I could reaffirm my statement just for you: I still do not wish to cooperate with his unit in the foreseeable future."

"He wanted me to try, sir, so here I am." Starling shrugged, her heart finally slowing. The expression on Lecter's face shifted then from dangerously pissed off into stonily disinterested. Disinterested was good, this expression was not making her feel like she was about to be eaten alive.

"Your attempt is the feeblest I've ever seen. I'm afraid you have a lot to learn about the real and ugly world of FBI politics if you wish to succeed."

She had the audacity to grin and say unconcernedly: "It seems so. I do keep stepping on people's toes quite regularly."

Lecter looked at her pensively and after few moments he smiled lazily. "Yes, and you find it very funny, am I right?"

"Everyone needs to have fun from time to time, Doctor." Starling answered carefully and was dumbfounded at the speed of Lecter's mood changes, for now he appeared amused again and pleasantly surprised no less. Whimsical as hell, wasn't he?

"Yes, I quite agree with you on that."

He was watching her, studying her curiously. It would have been flattering if it wasn't creepy. Starling was more than happy when a discreet beeping sound caught his attention and forced him to fish out his phone. He looked at the time and then clicked his tongue, again. It was obviously a habit of his, though every time he did it, Starling caught a different meaning behind the sound. This time he was regretful and his next words confirmed it:

"I'm afraid I have to go, Agent Starling. My six o'clock appointment awaits."

"Of course, I don't want to detain you, Doctor, I'm sorry."

Lecter got up and put on his coat, smoothing the lapels and grinning at her, "So, you do have some manners after all, Agent Starling. Good to know."

"What can I say? Some of my teacher's preaching must have stuck."

"I took the liberty to settle your bill, if you don't mind. It was an interestingly refreshing chat we had, wasn't it? It would be fun to do it again, wouldn't you agree?" Lecter smiled fondly at her. "And now, I feel obliged to strongly suggest one thing. Fly back to Quantico, little Starling, this part of the city has recently experienced an increase in crime rates, it's not safe after sunset anymore… even for F-B-I agents."

She knew he drawled the words 'FBI' to show his utter distaste for the institution, yet he still managed to exclude her from the statement by a single look, as if he didn't consider her part of the Bureau.

"Thanks, Doctor Lecter." It was a sound warning, though.

"Ta-ta." The doctor winked and smiled at her broadly. Then he politely nodded goodbye, and, putting his hat on, strolled out into the rain.

Starling watched him cross the street and then disappear. It could have gone better, she mused; however, she could not suppress the inexplicable relief she felt at his departure and her own failure in getting his assistance. Maybe it was a bit selfish of her, and she was certain she should be ashamed, but she didn't want to interact with that man again, despite his charismatic smile and charming voice, something about him was making her tense and uneasy. Never mind the thrill.

16/5/2014 - edited by Sephaya. Thank you :)