Cometh the Hour

A Revelation

Several moments of silence passed between them then before either spoke.

"You shouldn't be here, Dr Lecter," Clarice told him at last, closing the door behind her as far as it would go and glancing up and down the street.

"I happen to disagree," he said, moving a little closer towards her.

Clarice moved forward as if to stop him from entering the house, but Hannibal was quicker, catching hold of her wrist.

"When one has a guest, it is customary to invite them in, Clarice. Where are your manners?" he purred.

Her eyes met his – hard, defiant.

"There it is. You've still got it, haven't you?" he whispered, smiling. "Good old law-abiding Clarice. Still chained to the F...B...I..."

Something seemed to die inside of her and she blinked, tearing her eyes away from his and stepping aside to allow him through.

Hannibal took a moment to glance around the house, before he moved into the first room to his right.

Aside from a small desk in one corner, the room was filled with boxes of case files, giving it away as Clarice's workspace.

"What are you doin' here Dr Lecter?" she asked in a hushed voice, closing the door behind them.

"Now I don't think you're showing me much gratitude at present, Special Agent Starling. Which would be a shame, given the events of our last meeting..." he told her, holding up his hand to reveal the faint scarring of a thumb evidently reattached following the incident in Paul Krendler's kitchen several years prior.

She averted her eyes.

"Who's your friend?" he asked, gesturing back towards the hallway.

"How'd you find me?" she countered.

"Ah, well, you did make that rather difficult Clarice, I must admit..." he began, picking up a book from the desk and examining it. "You've moved around a lot, am I right? What drives you to run like that, I wonder? Had you hoped I wouldn't find you again? Or is it the knowledge that wherever your career takes you, you'll always be Special Agent Clarice Starling: Hannibal Lecter's Whore?"

"Shut your mouth!" she snapped.

No sooner had the works escaped her lips than Hannibal had her pinned against the door. She fought him for a moment but he overpowered her easily.

"Use your words, Clarice," he hissed, restraining her flailing arms.

"And you watch yours," Clarice spat back.

Hannibal considered her for a moment before he spoke again.

"You're right, that was rude of me. Forgive me," he said softly.

Catching her breath, she allowed him to bring her back into an upright position from against the door before she pulled away.

"I'm not runnin' anywhere," she told him.

"No? Then what are you doing in a two-bit town like this?" Hannibal asked.

"I could ask you the same question, Doctor."

"Given our... colourful history, is it wrong that I might want to drop in on an old friend?" he asked her. "Now then, the precocious little human being in the hallway – what is her significance?"

Clarice stiffened. "I'm not–"

" –Quid pro quo, Clarice. You know the rules."

Clarice folded her arms, but she didn't respond.

"Okey-dokey, let's try again," Hannibal suggested, moving to stand by the window before turning to face her once more. "I'll make it a little easier for you. Is the child yours?"

"Yes she is," Clarice said softly, as if admitting defeat.

A pause, and he simply observed her, though his expression gave nothing away.

"And the father?" he asked, eventually.

"He's nobody," she told him, edging towards the safe, which sat between the desk and the spot in which she was standing.

"I think you will find," Hannibal began, reaching inside his pocket and producing her pistol. "That your efforts will be fruitless in that department."

Clarice swallowed hard and he chuckled.

"You must really think I've lost my touch, Clarice."

"You really have if you think it's loaded," she commented.

Hannibal gave her a smile. Dangerous.

"You and I both know that I have no use for firearms," he told her, placing it on the window ledge beside him and moving back across the room to stand before her. "But, as it happens, I wasn't referring to that. No. The child is, by my calculations, somewhere close to her eighth year. Which puts us right back at the Lakehouse. Of course, we both know what happened that night, though admittedly some of the details may be a little hazy for you. However, unless I am to believe that your levels of promiscuity were heightened at that time, I do believe you have something you need to tell me, Clarice."

When she didn't respond, the Doctor brought his face closer to hers.

Clarice eyed him tensely, feeling his hot breath against her cheek.

"Well?" he asked, after a moment.

"I don't... I don't know what you want me to say Doctor," she replied, her voice cracking as a solitary tear escaped the corner of her eye and ran down her face.

Smiling, he reached up and wiped it away with the tip of his thumb.

"Given my sudden – albeit belated – descent into fatherhood," he began. "I do believe you might want to start with 'congratulations.'"

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