The Phases of Fire Part II (2024)

The Phases of Fire Part II: Craving

Chapter 6

Running again... familiar darkness. Glints of light shimmering off the irisesof watchful eyes. She knew she wasn't alone. But that wasn't a comfortingknowledge... It merely signified another addition to the gallery of faces thatwatched her mad rush to escape the pursuit... Her muscles were cramping, and therasping harshness of her breath was the only sound accompanying the franticpounding of her feet on the earth...

It was gaining on her....

Scully didn't know what woke her from her pleasantly heavy, wine-fueledslumber, but her eyes were immediately drawn to the moonlit figure of the womanin the other bed.

She could clearly see that, despite the night's coolness, Starling's body wascovered in sweat, and the covers were twisted into a snarl around her legs.Continuous shudders wracked her small frame, and Scully realized that Starlingwas in the middle of a hell of a nightmare. The paralyzing, deep REM sleep kepther from moving and held Starling completely at the mercy of whatever horrorplayed itself out behind her eyes.

Without thinking, Scully slipped from her own bed and knelt beside Clarice.Hesitantly, she placed a cool hand on the side of Starling's neck, feeling thefrantic pulse underneath the skin. "Shh... Relax..." she murmured, notwanting to wake Starling but only to rouse her from the deepest part of hersleep. Clarice's own body would do the rest. Instinctively, she knew thatStarling wouldn't welcome this invasion-- unwitting and unwilling as it was--into her privacy.

As she slowly stroked Clarice's forehead and cheeks with soft touches togentle the woman from her terror, Scully was forced to revise her assessment ofher new partner. Throughout the day, she had been shocked and a little appalledat the ease with which Starling had seemingly accepted the grisly nature of herwork. Now, however, she realized that not only was Starling affected by herwork-- she was so deeply affected that her conscious mind wouldn't acknowledgeit. Starling could only allow herself to feel the horror when she was alone inthe dark.

An unfamiliar pain twisted deep inside Scully's stomach for this woman whohad carved out such an absolutely solitary existence for herself. But thenagain... Scully mused silently, What choice does she have? How manypeople would share this? Thinking about what they had seen earlier in theday and the dead young women whose lives had been reduced to stacks of grimcrime scene photographs and dismembered body parts. Those girls had dreamed atnight too-- and never imagined that they would become fuel for the nightmares oftheir avenger's sleep.

Clarice's shudders had almost stopped, and she turned slightly on hershoulder, towards Dana's touch. Recognizing that Starling would be okay now,Scully knew she should return to her own bed-- but irrationally she remained byClarice's side, watching the sharply chiseled line of her face. That's whatshe is, isn't she? Scully wondered. An avenger. She's taught herself tosee through a monster's eyes, not so she can understand him, but so she canunderstand what happened to those girls. And keep it from happening again. Shecouldn't protect those girls' innocence, so she brings them the only thing shecan-- justice.

Do you think of yourself as an avenger, Clarice? she asked silently. Sheconsidered the sleeping form of the woman in front of her-- the dark arc of herbrow, the austerely beautiful planes of her face, the shuttered eyes that hid anexquisitely intense gaze... Or are you something else entirely? Are you oneof those people who in another time would have been a paladin? Would you haveroamed the countryside, slaying dragons and protecting the innocent?

The image oddly suited the taciturn woman she was coming to know, and itbrought a slight smile to Scully's lips. Starling was no Joan of Arc, that wascertain, but there was something undeniably noble about her... something thathad refused to bow to the pressures of the Bureau, the clamor of the media, or--apparently-- the very human craving for comfort in the darkest heart of thenight.

Allowing her fingers to trace the angle of Clarice's jaw one last time,Scully leaned over and tugged the blanket back into place. The night was cool,and Starling would be needing its comfort now.

Rain... gentling over her face... washing the sweat and blood away...soothing the clammy heat of her skin.... She lifted her face to the darkness, tothe rain... and tasted its sweetness on her lips...

In her sleep Starling sighed contentedly and burrowed into the pleasant mistof her dream...

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The following morning, if Starling remembered anything from the night before,she gave no indication. Scully did notice, however, that the woman seemed a bitmore at ease with her-- and the circles under her pale blue eyes were lighterthan they had been the day before.

"Sleep well?" she wasn't been able to resist asking.

Starling paused, as if giving the matter significant thought."Yeah..." she said slowly, almost surprised by the answer. "Idid."

Scully couldn't stop the hint of a smile from tugging at her lips."Good. Me too. You want the shower first?"

Ancient memories of dorm life orchestrated their movements as they vied forspace in the small room, getting ready with a minimum of fuss and awkwardness.Scully mentally blessed the instinct that had prompted her to pack an extracouple pair of slacks and shirts as well as an additional blazer. Though she wasno stranger to having to recycle her wardrobe because of unexpected delays, thevery thought of spending another day in the clothes she had worn yesterday wasabhorrent. The smell of death was on them, and she knew she wouldn't wear themagain until they had been dry cleaned. Several times.

Her sidearm nestled comfortably on her waist, concealed now as she slipped onher favorite black blazer. The Hugo Boss jacket had been an extravagantindulgence two years ago, but its fine cut suited her perfectly and she hadallowed Melissa to talk her into buying it. That shopping trip had been one ofthe last days she and her sister had spent together, and the clothes she hadbought that day remained her favorites-- reminders of a happier time before theworld had turned itself absolutely inside out. Now Melissa was dead, Scullyherself was scarred for life, and nothing would ever-- ever-- be the same.

"Scully?"

The quiet voice drew her from her musings as she turned her eyes to Starling,smiling involuntarily at her partner. Starling was dressed almost identically,except her blazer was an earthy brown tweed and her slacks dark brown instead ofblack like Scully's. "We look like cops."

Starling frowned. "We are cops." Then a half-grinned tugged at hermouth. "Besides, I look like a cop, you..."

"What?" Scully prompted, intrigued by the almost normal banter.

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Look like a cop."

Scully glanced down her body, surveying the blazer, gun, tailored trousers,and sensible black boots. "What do you mean? If I don't look like a cop,what do I look like?" The question slipped out before Scully had time toconsider whether or not she really wanted the answer.

Fortunately, Starling's answer was interrupted by a loud pounding on the doorthat by most standards would have been considered obscenely early. Guess it's agood thing we're early risers, Scully thought ruefully, opening the door.

And was confronted with the unmistakably tall, imposing figure of BelindaHarris.

One of the things Scully had hated most about Harris-- irrational though itwas-- was how damned tall the woman was. Harris stood easily at six feet withouther shoes, and the bloody woman insisted on wearing boots that had two inchheels at the least. Or she had the few times Scully had been forced to deal withher.

Today was no exception.

She towered in the doorway, obliging Scully to crane her head to makeunwavering eye contact. Dark brown eyes bored ruthlessly into her own blue onesand furrowed in vague recognition.

"I know you." came the statement.

"Can I help you?" Scully asked, ignoring the implied demand for hername.

"I'm looking for Clarice Starling..." The frown smoothed into asmug smile as recognition gleamed in Harris' eyes. "But this is an addedpleasure, Special Agent Scully. Although I would think this is a little out ofyour realm of expertise."

"Ms. Harris--" Starling's clipped voice was back, all traces of theease oftheir morning gone. "Special Agent Scully is a forensicpathologist." She hesitated only briefly over the next words. "As wellas my partner."

Belinda's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Since when? And since when do youwork with a partner?"

"Since I requested her assistance," Starling smoothly answered."Now is there something specific you want, or are you just here to annoyme?"

Scully watched the exchange with interest, not sure what was moresurprising-- the acidic tone in Starling's voice or the small fib about herrequesting Scully's assistance. What Starling had requested was someone tofollow up on the sometimes haphazard autopsies the local jurisdictions hadprovided.

What she had gotten was a partner who expected to be involved in every aspectof the case until they caught this son-of-a-bitch.

I guess she's okay with that now... Hmm... will wonders never cease?.

Belinda bounced a glance between the two women, seeming to absorb the detailsof their persons the way a hunting dog inhaled the scent of its prey."Whatever," she replied, waving a hand. "And Clarice, I'd thinkyou would be a little happier to see me. After all, I'm here to help."

Scully couldn't stop the snort that escaped from her throat. She coughedunconvincingly. "Sorry," she shrugged. "I'm having a phlegmproblem."

Starling chuckled darkly before Harris interrupted her. "So I guess youtwo wouldn't be interested in a lead on the dead girl's identity?"

"I suppose it would depend on if that information was reliable ornot," Starling replied blandly. "And what the provider of thatinformation wanted in exchange."

Harris smiled thinly. "Oh, this information's gold. I promise. As forwhat I want, we'll start with breakfast. Then maybe a little quid pro quo."She paused, watching avidly as the color in Starling's eyes flattened inwarning.

Witnessing the exchange, the hair on the back of Scully's neck rose. Everyonehad heard the tapes Dr. Chilton had made of Lecter's talks with Clarice-- andtheir quid pro quo conversation was the most famous one of all. "Why don'twe skip breakfast and instead haul your ass off to jail for obstruction ofjustice?" Dana's calm voice sliced cleanly through the tension in the room."If you have relevant information on this case that you're withholding,you're in violation of easily a half dozen state and federal statutes. Would youlike me to recite them now or after I read you your rights?"

Harris' glance skidded over to the other woman in the room. "Waitaminutethere, Red. What's the matter, you get up on the wrong side of your partner thismorning or something?" She shot a knowing look at Starling. "Clariceand I have an understanding. She knows how much I want this guy caught. Maybeeven more than she does."

"I know about Veronica," Scully replied flatly. "But right nowyou're not acting much like a grieving sister. In fact, if I didn't know anybetter I'd say you were just another avaricious reporter looking to make a buckand damn the cost to anyone else."

Starling couldn't wipe the astonished expression off her face. Not only wasScully's defense of her totally unexpected, but it also efficiently cut thesometimes overbearing Harris down to size. Silence flooded the room untilHarris' booming laugh echoed off the bare walls. "Damn, Starling, you'vegot a live one here. I hope you don't piss her off regularly." She inclinedher head, granting Scully victory in this round. "Geeze... I wonder whythey make you work regular cases and don't just keep you reserved forinterrogations. You've got the Gestapo attitude for it. At least feed me beforeyou haul me off to the pokey, okay Scully?"

---------------------------------

As she accompanied Scully and Harris down the crowded Asheville street,Starling considered that she couldn't be in the company of two more diversewomen. Looking at Belinda Harris, the only word that came to mind was Amazonian.It was a cliché, granted... but one that was nevertheless true. Not only wasshe tall, she was also broad-shouldered-- and if she was a little overweight,she carried it well, the bulk distributed evenly on long arms and legs. Herchestnut hair-- the same color as her eyes-- was pulled away from her face andpiled carelessly on top of her head, out of the way of busily swinging earringsand wildly gesturing hands. Everything about Belinda was larger-than-life andthat kind of vibrant persona always set Starling's teeth on edge. People likethat disturbed everyone they came into contact with-- their sheer size impingingon personal boundaries of all sorts. That's probably how she gets most of herinformation... Starling mused. She just walks right in there and stirsthings up until she gets what she wants.

Scully, however, didn't seemed disturbed by the woman in the least. She hadwithstood the initial onslaught of Harris' shenanigans without blanching andearned the reporter's grudging respect. As they were seated, Clarice listenedwith one ear to their conversation and was surprised to learn that Harris notonly knew of Scully and her X-Files exploits, but that she had approached Scullyabout doing a book.

"How did you talk her out of doing it?" Starling asked when Belindaexcused herself to go to the ladies' room.

Scully shook her head. "I didn't. She kind of lost interest on herown." She chuckled wryly. "I guess I wasn't spectacular enough forher."

I don't know about that...

The sentiment ambushed Starling from the primal backbrain of hersubconscious, and she ruthlessly crushed it out before it could blossom intosomething truly threatening. It rippled across her face and shimmered down herspine, becoming absorbed into the knots of tension in her lower back. Sheshifted slightly in her chair, adjusting to the new pressure. As Scully glancedup from her waffles, Starling found herself regarding her partner's eyes anew.Their clear blue depths reminded her of a photo she had once seen of the watersoff the coast of Saba. Ardelia had brought the pictures of the Caribbean islandhome one night, hoping to entice Clarice with their peaceful beauty into takinga vacation. The colors in that photo had been so rich and vibrant that Starlinghad wanted to dive into their richness and lose herself into the beckoningcoolness of the water she saw there. But she hadn't then and now... had she evenwanted to, she wouldn't know how to go about trying.

The silence between them was pleasant-- despite Starling's renegade musings--as if something had settled during the night, although for the life of her shecouldn't figure out why that was. Listening to Scully evaluate the forensicevidence yesterday evening had eased the last of the questions in Starling'smind about her competence. The woman obviously knew what she was doing, andStarling decided to attribute her newfound ease in Scully's presence to that.

And nothing else.

"So, you guys wanna trade or what?" Belinda's jarring presence inthe booth beside Starling startled the agent out of her thoughts.

Just as well, I'm not getting anything accomplished this way...

"Trade?" Scully's voice was mild, but the lilting arch of her browwas a warning to the reporter.

"Just seeing if you're awake over there, Red. I thought Starling wassupposed to be the strong, silent type. But I think you might just have herbeat."

"How's that?" In spite of herself, Scully was almost amused by thereporter. She had spent most of her brief acquaintance with Harris avoiding her,but now, she had to admit-- there was something annoyingly ingratiating aboutthe reporter.

"You're strong, silent and mean. It took you less than five minutes tothreaten to throw me in jail. I think that's a record-- even for me."

Even Starling couldn't stop the smirk that rose to her face at Harris' quip.Scully nodded and added lightly. "Then perhaps you should keep that inmind."

"Okay, okay..." Harris held up her hands in surrender. "But Ido expect some consideration. You know what I mean?"

"Well, Belinda, since it took you less than a day to find us and get alead on the victim's ID, I'd say you're getting more than enoughconsideration," Starling replied dryly. "You're here eating breakfastwith us, aren't you? I don't see any other reporter within a mile of us. Nowit's your turn. Spill it," she commanded.

The waitress-- a blowzy woman with a generous mouth and vividly-dyed redhair-- stopped by their table and refilled their coffee. Scully nodded herthanks and watched in amazement as Harris poured three packets of sugar and twohalf-n-halfs into the small cup. She and Starling exchanged queasy expressionsand sipped their own black coffee silently, waiting for the reporter to stopfussing.

"Okay. I spent most of yesterday playing nice with the editor of thelocal Citizen-Times."

"You mean sucking up," Starling interjected.

Harris scowled and started to offer a retort, but Scully's questioninterrupted her. "That's the city newspaper?"

"Yup," Harris nodded in answer and contented herself with shootingStarling a dirty look. "Forget the cops, this guy's so plugged into what'sgoing on around here that I'd be surprised if there's anything he doesn't knowabout. Anyway... turns out that a local girl came up missing a couple of daysago."

"Why wasn't there a missing persons report?" Scully asked, hopingthat Starling was going to let her lead this interview. Obviously Belinda Harrispushed the few buttons Starling had, and Scully didn't want to lose whateverinformation the reporter might have. On the other hand, Harris seemed to enjoyprovoking her partner, and might say something she normally wouldn't just to geta rise out of Starling.

"I don't know that there wasn't. But even if there were, the localsprobably haven't made the connection yet. They don't see a lot of stuff likethis around here."

"It's basic procedure," Scully shot back, just to see where it ledher.

"Look around you, Red. This is a college town without the big college.There ain't a whole lot of violent crime-- unless you count the injuries to farmanimals during teen cow-tipping adventures. What you've got up here is a townwhose biggest industry is tourism. That means the cops spend their time makingsure the drunk visitors don't drive into that tall, phallic thingie on MainStreet-- that sort of stuff."

Scully and Starling exchanged a glance that said, Somebody here was on theball enough to use VICAP... Scully was confident that if there had been amatching missing persons report, Merriam would have been all over it. So, eitherHarris' girl wasn't the right one, or there wasn't a report. "Let's justsay for argument's sake that there wasn't. Any reason the parents wouldn't havecalled the authorities?"

Harris leaned back in the booth. "Rumor has it that there was somefriction between the girl and her parents. They might have figured she was holedup with one of her friends."

"So why does the newspaper editor know about this?"

"Because her folks are worried now. Especially with you Fibbies runningaround like America's Most Wanted. I told you, this guy knows everybody.Young old rich poor educated or dumb as a stump-- he knows them. He told herparents he'd keep his ears open, and when I showed up..." She let her voicetrail off teasingly.

Scully was having none of it. "What's the girl's name?"

Harris sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes. "You are absolutely nofun."

"Give it up, Belinda."

"Kimberly Ellis. Nice girl apparently. Early twenties, just graduatedfrom Converse College with a degree in Education. Was teaching Middle School forBuncombe County here. Blondish-hair, thinnish, blue eyes, about 5' 6". Hada bunch of scars on her right knee from a skiing accident in high school. Ring abell?" She asked hopefully.

So she's not plugged in enough to have the site photos. That's something atleast, Scully thought. "We'll let you know, Belinda. Thanks forbreakfast. Next one's on us." She rose gracefully from the booth and movedtowards the exit.

"Waitaminute!" Harris leapt up in pursuit, allowing Starling tofollow her partner's lead and make her own escape. The reporter's pursuit wasinterrupted as she stopped to pay the check.

Out on the street Starling and Scully exchanged glances, and Starling gavevoice to the thought that occupied them both. "That's our girl."

Chapter 7

Partridge Ridge Asheville, North Carolina

There was nothing simple about telling two people that you thought theirdaughter was dead. Even worse-- telling them that she was the latest macabreentry in a serial killer's ongoing saga. As they stood on the tidy front porchof the Ellis residence, Scully felt the roiling sickness from last night returnto her stomach. The acrid bile rose in her throat, and she swallowed hard-- hereyes looking anywhere but at the cream-colored door with its antique bronzeknocker.

The yard was trimmed neatly, the first green of Spring poking up through lastyear's grass. A row of dogwoods lined the drive, and tiny buds dotted the trees'slender limbs. Similar buds for different flowers were also curling timidlyskyward in various flower beds, and Scully found herself mulling the horribleirony of delivering news of death at a time that should be reserved for birthinglife.

But then again... what is Easter all about? Scully mused cynically. Weget so caught up in the bunny rabbits and egg hunts that we don't have to thinkabout the reason behind it all...

"Taking their time, aren't they?" Starling's comment drew Scullyback from the uneasy precipice of her thoughts.

"Maybe they're not home," she replied.

"Maybe they don't want to talk to us."

"I wouldn't want to." Dana's quiet tone held an acid edge, andStarling's eyes jerked upward-- the remote coolness of the blue registeringsurprise at her partner's words. "I--" Scully bit off her words,shaking her head sharply the unasked question. How could she explain herrevulsion at bringing death to someone's doorstep-- when that was how Starlingspent her life? But as she stared evenly into Starling's eyes, she rememberedthe paralyzing nightmare last night that had gripped the woman beside her.

Maybe she wasn't alone in her horror.

To Dana's surprise, Starling replied softly. "I know." Their gazemet and held again, and Scully noticed that the unnervingly pale blue ofStarling's eyes was clouded over with gray. Storm clouds on a still, summer'sday.

Scully opened her mouth to speak, but her words were caught in the mutedclick of the Ellis's front door opening.

"Can I help you?" The woman who opened the door was rail thin andhad the carefully groomed face of someone who's spent a lifetime adhering to thesaying, "A lady never greets visitors looking anything less than herbest." A pale pink blouse and soft, brown trousers complemented the woman'slightly tanned features, and her voice held the carefully modulated politenessreserved for door-to-door salespeople. Thanks but I don't want any...

In short, Elizabeth Ellis didn't exactly look the part of a distraughtparent.

"Mrs. Ellis? I'm Clarice Starling of the Federal Bureau ofInvestigation. This is my partner, Dana Scully. May we have a word withyou?" With mild surprise, Scully noted a gentle Southern cadence inStarling's voice had replaced her normally-clipped tones.

Kimberly Ellis' mother paled slightly beneath her healthy tan and pressed ahand to her chest. The undeniable crack in her genteel facade. "Something'shappened to Kimberly, hasn't it?"

"Ma'am, it'd be best if we talked inside."

"Of course, come in. Please."

As Scully and Starling were ushered into the living room, the pathologisttook in her surroundings. Contemporary Martha Stewart on a budget-- albeit afairly substantial budget. Cool tans and discreetly muted pastels dominated theliving room. There was an elegant Wyeth print over the back of the couch, andother equally tasteful smaller prints in strategic locations around the room.Family photos were gracefully matted and tucked into pewter frames, but theirdaughter strangely seemed to be missing from them all.

While Elizabeth Ellis summoned her husband from his study, Starling andScully exchanged significant glances.

"Chilly in here, isn't it?" the pathologist murmured.

"You want my blazer?" Starling cracked with a dry smile. "Orwe could ask Mrs. Ellis for a pair of mittens. I'm sure she has several extrapairs for dinner parties."

A pale brow flew skyward of its own volition at the comment, and Scully feltsome of the tightly coiled tension in her belly ease. She grinned back at herdark partner and shook her head. "I'm going to have to be careful where Itake you, aren't I?"

"Ardelia always said she couldn't take me anywhere," Starlingreplied softly, a faraway look creeping into her eyes.

Before Scully could ask who Ardelia was, the Ellises emerged from the dimrecesses of the house.

Or to be more accurate, one of them did.

"I'm Martin Ellis. How can I help you, ladies?" Martin Ellis wasevery bit as well preserved as his wife was. If Kimberly Ellis was in her earlytwenties, Martin and Elizabeth either started young or worked really hard toappear that way. Flecks of gray were just invading his temples, and his body wasonly now beginning to concede to age's inevitability. His face didn't have thetaut smoothness of youth, and Scully surmised that the lines etched into hisface weren't the kind one got from smiling too much. His eyes were dark andcold... and Scully felt the chill that Starling's unexpected lightheartednesshad eased returning.

Starling, on the other hand, didn't seem phased in the least. "We werehoping to talk to both you and your wife, sir."

The accent had eased a little-- Scully noted-- and there was a decidedcrispness to Clarice's tone that she liked. Her partner had apparently sizedMartin Ellis up and come to much the same conclusions Scully herself had. Fromthe top of his impeccably groomed dark hair to his pressed gray duckheads, Ellisradiated the confidence of someone who wasn't used to being questioned.

"This doesn't concern my wife. Whatever mess Kimberly's managed to makethis time, Elizabeth doesn't need to know about."

"She seemed fairly concerned when she answered the door. I think she'dlike to know what's going on." The crispness of Starling's voice took on asharper edge.

After all, it's not every day the FBI comes knocking at your door...Scully thought silently.

"I'll tell my wife everything she needs to know, Miss--"

Scully bit off the sharp retort that sprang to her lips when she saw Starlinghad already begun speaking.

"I don't think you understand-- sir--" The word as it fell fromStarling's lips was as close to an obscenity as Scully had ever heard. "Weare agents of the Federal Bureau of Investigation--" She held out herbadge. "And this is official business. Now may I suggest that you go getyour wife so we can take care of our business. Do you understand me?"

Ellis stood appraising the two women in front of them-- and found himselfpinned squarely by two icy blue gazes. "Fine. I'll be right back."

Watching him stride out of the room, Scully turned to her partner."Makes me think that what Belinda said was true. Looks like there was badblood in the family."

"Yeeaahh..." Starling drew out the word, looking thoughtful.

Dana recognized the look from last night. "What are you thinking?"

"Tell you later," she muttered as Martin and Elizabeth Ellisreturned to the room.

"Please, sit down," Elizabeth murmured politely.

"Thank you, ma'am." The accent was back. "We won't take upmuch of your time... but what we need to ask you is very important."

"Of course."

"You said this had something to do with Kimberly?" Ellisinterrupted brusquely.

Scully watched Clarice bite back a sigh and content herself with flickingEllis an irritated glare. "Yes, sir. It does." She returned herattention to Kimberly's mother. "Can you tell me the last time you talkedto Kimberly, or saw her?"

"I'll tell you the last time we saw her--" Martin answered for hiswife. "It was two weeks ago Wednesday, when I told her not to bother comingback until she straightened herself up. I indulged her foolishness long enough--it was time for her to pay the piper."

You have no idea, Mr. Ellis...

Starling's eyes never left Elizabeth Ellis's bloodshot brown ones as herhusband spoke. "Is that right, Mrs. Ellis? It will have been two weeks on Wednesdaysince you've talked to Kimberly?"

"That-- that's correct, Agent Starling." Her gaze fled downwardunder Clarice's soft probing glance. Starling looked across and Scully who shookher head almost imperceptibly. It didn't jibe with their timeline at all. Allthe evidence-- what little of it there was-- pointed to their guy grabbing hismark, doing his business, and dumping the body all in a 24 to 36 hour period.There was no way in hell he had Kimberly Ellis for a week and a half.

"What's she done, agent?" Ellis' voice was a harsh dissonant tonein the quiet room.

Starling paused, considering both her words and the couple in front of her."Well, sir. Kimberly hasn't done anything. In fact, we're afraid thatsomething's been done to her."

"Oh my god..." The words were barely a breath of sound, buteveryone's eyes found their way to Elizabeth Ellis once more. "Is it... Iwas watching the news... Are you those agents that they called about..."Her words trailed off, not wanting to reach their logical end.

Starling nodded at Scully, who discreetly stood and crossed the room."Sir, if you could come with me please?"

Martin Ellis bounced a glance between the two FBI agents, clearly trying todecide if they were telling him the truth. Scully almost growled in anger at hisarrogance. Damn him, we're trying to tell him we think his child has beenslaughtered by a madman... and he doesn't want to be taken advantage of. If thisweren't a serial case, I'd peg him as my prime suspect... "Sir,please... I need you to look at some pictures for me."

Scully had taken a series of Polaroids of the victim once they got her to thehospital morgue. This wouldn't count as an official identification, but ifMartin Ellis indicated that he believed this was his daughter, they couldproceed with releasing the dental records and officially identify Kimberly thatway-- and spare the Ellis's the ordeal of having to look at the remains of theirdaughter's butchered body. Although in his case, it might knock some senseinto him, the supercilious bastard...

She took a Polaroid out of her blazer and held it out to him. "We havereason to believe that the woman who was found on the Blue Ridge Parkway isKimberly Ellis. Can you tell me if this is her?"

The photo was of her face, the sheet primly drawn up to her shoulders. Andwhile the ugly purple-black ligature marks shown vividly against the girl's paleskin, none of the other damage to her was visible. Before they had taken thepicture, Scully had found herself unaccountably disturbed by the wild snarls inKimberly's hair and had combed them out as best she could with her fingers. Shehad noticed Starling staring at her with an inscrutable expression, and when shehad asked her new partner what was wrong, Starling merely quirked a small smileand shook her head.

There was no noticeable change in Ellis's expression as he examined thepicture of what the FBI had told him was his dead daughter. "Yes," hesaid shortly. "This is her."

"Oh my god..." The quiet mantra seemed to be Elizabeth Ellis's onlywords.

"Sir, we'll need your permission to obtain her dental records."

"Why? What do need with those?" Hard grey eyes fastened on Scully'strying to wear them down, it seemed to her, as if he were trying to find somecrack in her professional facade. "I told you it was her."

"Sir..." Now it was Scully's turn to bite off the word. "Couldyou step into the other room with me please?" So I can shoot you... Shelowered her voice. "The nature of official identification is sometimesdifficult." She flicked a significant look at his wife. "I'd thinkyou'd rather..."

Ellis nodded authoritatively. "Of course. Come into my study." Shecaught Starling's grateful nod out of the corner of her eye and left her partnerto her work.

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Starling smothered a smile at Scully's smoothly executed maneuver andreturned her full attention to the quietly shivering woman in front of her.Although the day was sunny and warm, there was a coolness in the room thatwasn't necessarily metaphorical. She placed a warm palm on the older woman'sshockingly cold skin. "Mrs. Ellis... I'm so sorry. I can't imagine whatyou're feeling right now."

A well-intentioned lie. She knew very well what Kimberly's mother wasfeeling... just as she well knew what Kimberly Ellis had felt and experiencedduring the last moments of her life. The sheer, unadulterated terror of not justof knowing that your life was going to end but of seeing how it was going toend. And at whose hands.

Those moments of blindness all those years ago-- when Bill had stalked herand had crippled her sense of sight, leaving only the rancid odor of death'shouse invading her nostrils and the roar of a hammer co*cking filling her ears--she had been in Kimberly Ellis' position.

She had been faster than death that time, but as her dreams reminded herevery night-- that wouldn't always be the case. Something would get her in theend... whether it was Lecter finally growing bored of their game or the madnessthat stalked her at every moment.

Given her druthers... she almost hoped it was Lecter.

Her thoughts had roamed during these silent moments of Elizabeth Ellis'sgrief, and the woman's quiet sniffling alerted Starling to her next move."It's hard, I know. And it's going to be harder during the next few days...but I want you to know Mrs. Ellis--" She ducked her head, catching thewoman's eyes and forcing their gazes to meet. "I'm going to do everythingin my power to catch whatever did this to her."

Whatever... not whoever... She wouldn't even grant this monsterthe status of humanity.

"Can you--" Watery brown eyes finally met hers. "Can you dothat?"

"I have before," Starling responded evenly.

Mrs. Ellis nodded hesitantly as if that explained everything-- and in a wayit did. This woman was in her home, telling her her daughter was dead, andpromising to hunt down her killer. Elizabeth Ellis had no faith left anylonger-- it couldn't hurt to believe this steadfast woman with the cold blueeyes. She gave the hand covering hers an almost undiscernable squeeze.

"But I need your help," Clarice continued.

"I--" The eyes fell again. "What can I do?" Soft,helpless words.

"You can tell me when was the last time you really talked toKimberly." No pressure. No lectures. Just a request. Starling waited withheld breath. She would almost bet her life that Elizabeth Ellis had talked toher daughter since Kimberly's banishment-- just as she would as quickly bet thather husband didn't know.

"Martin said--"

"I know what Martin said," Claire interrupted softly. "But Ineed to know what you say. It's very important." When was the last timesomeone told her what she said was important? Clarice wondered absently asshe bided her time. She hoped to God Scully was keeping Martin Ellis good andoccupied, because at the rate she was going, she'd be here hours. Flicking aglance at the doorway where Scully had disappeared, she decided to up the antejust a little. "Mrs. Ellis, we need to know as much as possible about whatKimberly did over the last two weeks-- to retrace her steps."

"But I thought she was..."

"No," Clarice replied. "She didn't suffer like that." Likethat... A relative description at best. Could you really tell the differencebetween a day's torture and a week's? How long did it take for the mind tosurrender the battle and just allow the body to endure? She still had no answerfor that. "So you see... that's why it's so important. If we can figure outwhere she went, who she saw..." Who might have seen her... and why theyliked what they saw... She found Elizabeth Ellis's gaze once more andfinally read the connection she had been hoping for. "It's okay... I won'ttell." A child's promise.

Cross my heart and hope to die...

Some days that was truer than others.

Whatever Elizabeth had been planning on telling Clarice was silenced by theblustering sound of her husband's voice. "What's going on here? What areyou doing?"

Scully was a step behind the tall man, an angry scowl on her face. Starlingknew she'd be in for an earful when they got back to the car.

Starling rose smoothly and stepped between Ellis and his wife. "I wasjust offering my condolences to your wife about your loss."

His nod was perfunctory. "Thank you. I'm sure you'll understand that mywife and I have a great many arrangements to make."

In other words... you want us to get the hell out of your house...Starling almost smirked at the unspoken words. Instead, she nodded in reply."I do.. and we'll be going now." She took a sleek leather case out ofher inside blazer pocket and removed a business card. "This is my card, myphone number is on there. Please feel free to call us if you think of anythingthat might help with our investigation." She needed some way for Mrs. Ellisto get back in touch with her-- since it was painfully obvious that Martin Elliswas going to be of no use whatsoever in finding his daughter's killer.

"Let me show you out." To Starling's shock, Elizabeth Ellis stoodand gestured towards the doorway. As they reached the entrance hall, she placeda softly trembling hand on Clarice's arm. "Kimberly had a... friend. Ithink her name was Terri." She paused, as if searching for her thoughts."And she managed a restaurant called-- what was it? I can't quiteremember... something strange-- it was on Grove Street." She noddeddecisively. "I do remember that."

Starling smiled as though Elizabeth had just handed her the name ofKimberly's killer. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Ellis. And please if you doremember anything more...."

"Elizabeth?" Martin's voice echoed from the depths of the house.

"I'll try."

"Thank you."

Once the cream-colored door was shut firmly again in their faces, Scully andStarling exchanged a weary, bemused look. "A mystery woman named Terri and arestaurant called something strange on Grove Street. Wanna see if they're openfor lunch?"

Walking to the car, Scully ran an exasperated hand through her hair."Perfect." She unlocked the driver's door and dropped into the seat."I only have one question."

"Which is?"

"Where the hell is Grove Street?"

Chapter 8

Downtown Asheville, North Carolina

Scully had been prepared to spend at least an hour, maybe two, driving aroundaimlessly in search of Grove Street. Five years with Mulder and his almostobsessive refusal to ask for directions had inured her to the frustrations offinding her way in a small town.

When Starling had suggested that they stop at a gas station named "Joe'sPump 'n' Pay" and buy a map, Scully had almost veered off the road insurprise.

Now, half an hour later, they stood in front of a restaurant on Grove Streetcalled "Cahoots," eyeing its closed doors warily.

"This has gotta be it," Clarice remarked, tugging half-heartedly onthe locked doors. "I think 'Cahoots' qualifies as a strange name in thistown."

"Doesn't look like it's open for lunch." Scully glanced at herwatch and mentally calculated the hours. Now that they had a tentative id on thebody, the bureaucratic wheels had been set in motion to move Kimberly Ellis'body to the State Pathologist's office in Raleigh. She would accompany the bodyand perform the autopsy, confirming Kimberly's violent end. They would boil theskin off the bones in her arms to match the blade striations to the othervictims. They would weigh and measure her organs, test her blood, and provebeyond a shadow of a medical doubt that a madman had strangled the life out ofher twenty-four year old body and then mutilated it to his satisfaction. It wasnot a task she was looking forward to.

"You hungry?"

Starling's words brought a wry smile to Scully's lips. All morning food hadbeen the furthest thing from her mind-- finding Belinda Harris at their doorfirst thing had started the day off wrong... and it had just kept goingdownhill, culminating in her confrontation with Martin Ellis. Now, however,looking into the quietly inquisitive eyes of Clarice Starling, she felt herappetite returning. "I think I am."

"Good, because Merriam won't have that search warrant ready forKimberly's apartment for at least a couple more hours. Plenty of time to eat andfigure out what's next."

"Sounds good to me. You have anything specific in mind?" She archeda pale brow, half-resigned to the diner food that Mulder loved so much.

"I might." A small smile played at the corners of Starling's lips,brightening the normally stern countenance of the small woman's face, and Scullyfound herself smiling back. She realized with a start that she had thought ofStarling in terms of angles and lines-- but now she saw that when ClariceStarling smiled, a delicate rounding in her jaw softened the sharp cut of hercheekbone. It was an echo of tenderness in a woman who had no cause to show it.Especially not to someone she had only known two days.

Suddenly nothing in the world sounded better than spending a leisurely lunchwith this woman.

"You're very strong, Clarice. I think it would be quite something toknow you in private life..."

Scully had no way of knowing those words that Hannibal Lecter had uttered tothe young FBI student all those years ago... but if she had, she would havefound herself in the odd position of agreeing whole-heartedly with a psychopath.Clarice Starling was unlike anyone she had ever met, and Scully found herselfwanting to get behind the shadows that cloaked the painfully fierce blue of theother woman's eyes. "Sounds great to me. Let's go."

---------------------------------

"I think it's just down here." Clarice peered around the bulky formof a man in a badly pressed gray suit and looked down the street. For a smalltown, Asheville had a lot of foot-traffic; and Starling absently wondered if itwas always this way. It would certainly make it easier for someone to followKimberly Ellis unobserved. In fact, she noted wryly, she had no idea if anyone--like Belinda Harris-- was trailing them now. "Yup...." she grinned,spying the elegant hanging sign that identified the Bier Garden. "It's justdown there on the right."

Together they maneuvered easily through the noon-time crowds until they reachthe glass doors of the restaurant. When she noticed Scully's discreetly crookedbrow, she explained, "It's where I got dinner last night. You seemed tolike it okay, so..." She trailed off as an enigmatic curve graced Scully'slips.

"Works for me. After you." With a small but courtly bow and a wryshake of her head, Scully opened the door and ushered her partner in.

Munch's "Scream" had been replaced with the more soothing silkpatterns of one of Monet's water lilies, but otherwise, the maitre'd from theprevious night was unchanged-- and it seemed as though the recognition wasmutual, for his dark eyes lit up upon spying Starling's slim frame. "Ohhello there." He grinned at her conspiratorially. "Welcome back."

Starling unaccountably found herself flushing under the satisfied gaze of themaitre' d-- whose name she'd noted last night was Charlie. She had seen him takein Scully with an approving glance as he greeted them and knew what kind ofconclusion he'd drawn. Not that she minded in the least-- Dana Scully cut abeautiful, if severe, figure through the small town crowds; and more than onehead had turned as she passed-- but Clarice had a feeling that the admirationwouldn't be mutual. Scully was Bureau all the way-- and a Navy brat to boot.That practically screamed "Hands Off" to all passersby.

"Can I show you ladies a table or are you eating on the run again?"Charlie's voice provided a welcome detour for her thoughts which had rapidlybeen heading down the road to nowhere.

"A table would be great, thanks." To Starling's surprise, Scullyanswered for them. "Do you mind putting us in the window over there?"She pointed to a discreet round table that gave them a complete view not just ofthe traffic in and out of the restaurant but along the entire street.

Charlie beamed-- beautiful women in the window was always good for business."Your wish is my command. Follow me."

He led them on a winding tour through the crowded restaurant to the tablethat Scully had requested. "May I take your coat?" he asked, pullingout Scully's chair.

Starling and Scully exchanged amused glances. "Um..." shehesitated. "I don't think that's a good idea."

Two dark brows knit together in consternation. "Is there a problem withthe temperature? I could--"

"No, no," Scully assured him quickly. "I just don't think youwant us to be flashing these in front of your customers." She held herblazer open slightly, giving him a swift glimpse of her Sig. "You know whatI mean?"

Charlie's eyes widened as comprehension drifted over his face. "Nowthat's what I call packing," he muttered as he settled both women in theirchairs. "You're those FBI people, aren't you? The ones they called aboutthat girl they found."

"What makes you say that?" Starling asked.

"Well, I hate to admit it, but I do know most of local authorities-- andmost of them are a little on the Cro-Magnon side if you know what I mean. Youtwo-- on the other hand-- look like Cagney and Lacey, only better dressed."He shrugged gracefully and topped it off with a charming smile. "Two andtwo-- and here we all are. Now do you want to hear about the specials?"

Starling was about to nod her agreement when she noticed the thoughtful lookon her partner's face. "We trust you, Charlie. Why don't you just bring ussomething we'd love?"

He beamed at them, then winked softly at Clarice. "Guess the wine wentover well, huh?"

Busted, Charlie... Thanks a lot... Starling thought as she managed to ekeout a weak grin at the question and ignored Scully's quirked brow.

"Okay, back in a jiffy with something." He rubbed his handstogether gleefully and left Starling at the mercy of Scully's inquisitive gaze.

"Something I should know?" she prodded.

"Oh, that." Starling waved a hand. "What I know aboutchardonnay wouldn't fill a wine glass, so I asked him for something nice."Her eyes darted about the room searching for anything to focus on other thanthose disconcerting blue eyes.

Scully frowned momentarily, then smiled softly. "You could have justpicked up whatever was on special. I wouldn't have minded."

"I-- well, whatever." Starling desperately wanted to change thesubject to something-- anything-- other than her unexpected solicitousness.

As if sensing her discomfort and signaling her willingness to let the matterrest, a low chuckle rumbled from Scully's throat. "In fact, if I had askedMulder to pick something up for me, he probably would have brought back Mad Dog35." The humor in her eyes faded as she added, "In the mood I was inlast night, I would have drunk it too."

Clarice Starling had spent years in the dark, chasing monsters and eludingthe demons of her sleep. In those years she had never shared the horror withanyone else-- unwilling or unable to trust that a lover, a partner or a friendcould bear up under the weight of the load that she bore on her own slendershoulders. Working with Scully over the last two days had shown her that theagent was more than capable in the field and in the lab; however, now in DanaScully's quiet admission of pain, she found someone who was not only able tobear that load, but who was willing to share it with her. At least for now...

At last, Starling was able to meet Scully's eyes, unable to stop herself fromresponding to the strength, sadness and resolve she found there. In that silentmoment, Dana Scully and Clarice Starling cemented their partnership-- eachfinding in the other something they never had before.

An equal.

"Some iced tea to start off with-- or can I get you somethingstronger?" Charlie's smiling visage reappeared, interrupting-- but notsevering-- the birthing connection between them.

"Tea's fine, thanks," Scully replied absently, her eyes finallyleaving Clarice's face and locking onto the discreet patterns in the tablecloth. Whatever had just happened, it simultaneously put the worries in her mindat ease and set something in her spine to tingling. And it all had nothing to dowith the case they were working on.

"You want to tell me what you're thinking?" Starling asked whentheir drink order had been taken.

Not particularly... Scully's mind automatically answered. Aloud, however,she replied, "Charlie's a chatty guy."

"That he is."

"It's a small town."

"That it is."

"Only a few nice restaurants around here."

"True."

"So it stands to reason..." her voice trailed off.

"He might just know who this Terri girl is."

"It's a long shot," Scully admitted. "But..."

"We don't have a hell of a lot more to go on right now." Starlingglanced around them before returning her eyes to Scully. "His chattinesscould be a bad thing, though."

"Belinda." The name came out flat, uninflected, but the expressionon Scully's face left no doubt about her thoughts on that particular subject.

"It bothers me that she got such a hot lead so quickly."

"Makes sense though," Scully replied, following Starling's train ofthought easily. "Newsfolk tend to travel in packs. And she does have areputation. Her books sell--" She paused. "Whatever we think of them.It makes perfect sense that a small town newspaperman would want to be chumswith the superstar."

"You think the editor was just looking for his fifteen minutes offame?" Starling's voice was skeptical.

"We could always ask him."

"Yeah, I think we might want to."

Scully nodded her agreement. "After lunch, why don't I let you talk tohim and take a look at Kimberly's apartment while I make sure everything's readyfor the autopsy tomorrow? Then I can join you at the scene?"

And after I've had a chance to feel my way around. Scully, you are amazing...Starling thought silently. If I'd had a partner like you back when... Clampingdown firmly on her musings, she looked up to see Charlie emerging from thekitchen with their lunch in hand. "Looks like here comes our shot. Iwonder if all their customers get this kind of personal attention?"

"He does seem fond of you," Scully replied with a grin.

Starling snorted. "I don't think I'm quite his type. You know?"Something occurred to her as Charlie sat two steaming plates down in front ofthem.

"No grazing for you two today," he pronounced solemnly. "It'skind of chilly out there, so you get the white chicken chili special. It'll keepyou all warm and cozy until you can get in front of a nice warm fire." Hegrinned significantly at them both.

At the comment, Starling wanted to crawl under the table; while Scully merelylooked puzzled. However, the comment confirmed her suspicions, and she decidedto take advantage of Charlie's assumptions. "Actually, we were hopingtonight to take in some of the... nightlife around here this evening. A friendof mine was telling me about a place called Cahoots. You know anything aboutit?"

It was a loaded question in more ways than one; and depending on how Charlieanswered it, it might tell her more than she had expected to learn from astranger about their victim.

To her surprise he was nodding emphatically. "Oh yes, fabulous place...although..." He paused, looking them over significantly, "Sometimes itgets a little... uh... leathery. Might be a more than you're used to. But withthe guns... who knows? You'll probably fit in just fine. Great restaurantupstairs, great dancing downstairs."

"You go there often then?"

"Oh lordy, child, no. It's tres upscale... bring your goldAmex. On my poor salary I couldn't afford one of their swizzle sticks. But I dolike to wander in and look occasionally. Sometimes the girls and I go afterwork. Bob the doorman turns a blind eye when we show up... although I'm sure Terriwouldn't approve."

Bingo.... "Who's Terri?"

"She's the owner. Beautiful lady, if you like that sort of thing. She'salways there, charming the patrons, making them feel all warm and fuzzy."He frowned. "But come to think of it, I haven't seen her the last few timesI've been in there. The gossip was that she had finally fallen madly in love andwasn't at the bar as much as she used to be." He snorted and rolled hiseyes. "That would be a first. I've never known Terri to be able to commit toa conversation. And don't get me started about her mating habits... I mean, dothe words 'crazed weasel' mean anything to you?" Scully and Starling'smuted chuckle seemed to snap him out of his monologue. "Oh listen to me,here I am running off at the mouth about people you don't know and your lunch isgetting cold."

"Don't worry about it, Charlie. It's nice to hear an insider's view of aplace before you go. Kind of lets me know what to watch out for."

"Well, if Terri's there, you best watch out for her. She's a handful.Definitely got an eye for the ladies-- in spite of what they say. And don't pissher off. That girl's got a temper. I saw her get mad at a bartender once-- sheheaved a bottle at him and took out a whole wall of glassware. Didn't think athing of it either. Just chunked the bottle at him and went back to herconversation like it never happened. Damnedest thing I ever saw. Anyway... thereI go again. You enjoy your lunch, and if there's anything else you need, don'thesitate to give me a yell." He patted Starling on the shoulderfraternally.

"We will. Thanks, Charlie."

"Don't think a thing of it, dearie."

They both watched Charlie greeting patrons and chatting with them casually ashe worked his way back to his stand. Starling and Scully glanced at each other,both absorbing the facts and nuances of the information Charlie had unwittingimparted in the name of gossip.

"Well... that was interesting," Scully offered.

"Uh huh."

"You have any thoughts on it?"

"A couple."

"Such as?"

"Well, I think I know what the bad blood was between Kimberly Ellis andher parents was."

"Terri."

"In a word."

"So..."

"So Scully, you want to go out dancing tonight?"

Chapter 9

Derrington Apartments Asheville, North Carolina

Silence-- yearning, empty, aching silence-- greeted Clarice as she enteredKimberly Ellis's apartment. With silence as her familiar throughout her longtravels into the shadows, Starling had spent a career walking into mourningrooms. This one was no exception, filled as it was with the emptiness of a housethat was no longer a home. She trod quietly among the things that had once beenKimberly's-- a smattering of keepsakes, photos and a lot of books. They weremostly teaching manuals, she observed-- anthologies of classics, guides to thebest books for children. Looking at the uniformed spines, Clarice concluded thatKimberly was either someone who loved her work-- or else was determined tosucceed.

The apartment was furnished tastefully-- if sparingly-- in light woods andpale pastels. Blues, sea greens, and rose-colored accents surrounded her withtheir soothing hues. She inherited some good taste from someone, Claricemused, remembering the elegant decor of the Ellis family home. No dust gatheredyet-- Kimberly had only been gone a short while, and the place still had theechoing feel of one whose owner has just run out for coffee. That would changesoon enough when the forensics team waiting outside came in. There weren't asmany men waiting for her signal as there would have been if this had been thecrime scene, but there were enough to chase away the last traces of Kimberly'sliving memory from these rooms.

Starling heard the impatient shuffle of the team just beyond the door, butdismissed it as she continued her exploration of the deserted rooms. A fewsubtle changes marked the bedroom-- the space was a little messier, a littlemore cluttered. A paperback novel was turned face down on the night stand, ontop of a current copy of The Advocate. Seeing its creased pages,Starling's eyebrows rose slightly. Looks like I might have been right aboutthe reason for the trouble between Kimberly and her folks. How, or even if,it tied into the young woman's murder, she still didn't know.

Careful not to disturb anything, she made a complete circuit of theapartment, noting what pictures she wanted pulled and duplicated before turningover to Kimberly's parents. One picture that particularly intrigued her was ofKimberly and another woman. The shot, despite its obviously public setting, hadan undeniably intimate aura. Fleetingly, Clarice wondered if this was thenotorious Terri that both Charlie and Kimberly's mother had mentioned. Definitelyneed a copy of that, Clarice thought wryly, Once her father gets a lookat it, he'll probably burn it. Looking around at some of the art on thewalls-- richly colored Georgia O'Keefe and Tamara de Lempicka prints-- sherealized, He'll probably burn all of it. Everything that undoubtedlydoesn't fit what his daughter was supposed to be. She didn't know why she hadsuch an unreasoned dislike of the man. After all, she had dealt with blowhardsall her life-- even Jack Crawford, whom everyone saw as her mentor and some sawas more than that, tried to dismiss or bully her when it suited his purposes.Martin Ellis really wasn't that much different, but still, he set Starling'steeth on edge. Perhaps it was the passionately disgusted look on Scully's faceearlier that afternoon when she walked out of the study behind him that sealedhis fate in Starling's eyes. Although she had only known Dana Scully a few days,Clarice knew without a doubt that she never wanted to inspire such a look on herpartner's face.

"Uh..." A minute shift in the room's air and a quiet clearing ofhis throat alerted Starling to Robert Merriam's presence. The young detectivelooked around the room with shy, darting eyes-- as if there were somethingshameful to be seen-- or perhaps it was just out of respect for the dead woman'sthings. "Umm.. Agent Starling? Is it.. is it all right if we come innow?"

What do they think I'm doing, holding a séance? Contacting Kimberly's deadspirit to find out who murdered her? Starling appraised the clean-cutfeatures of the Asheville officer. Certainly he looked respectful-- and not alittle afraid of her. "Sure, bring your team in, Merriam, we've got a lotof work to do."

------------------

Office of the Coroner Asheville, North Carolina

"Hey, Scully. It's me." The disembodied but unmistakable voice ofher old partner crackled through the cell phone.

"Mulder?" Scully asked, more out of disbelief than anything.

"What's up? I heard you choppered out of Quantico in the dead of night.I can't believe they ran you out of town before me."

"No, Mulder, I'm on a case." Scully shifted the phone to her otherear and resumed signing the roughly 8 million forms that authroized her to takecharge of Kimberly Ellis' mortal remains-- at least long enough to take them toRaleigh and perform the autopsy. She found herself gripping the institutionalblue Bic pen a little too hard at the sound of Mulder's voice. Their partnershipwas at a formal end, although more often than not they still found themselvespaired together-- enjoying the best sh*t jobs the FBI has to offer, shehad noted on more than one occasion. When they were separated, however, Mulderhad taken to calling her at odd times-- mostly obscenely late at night, usuallyin some state of intoxication. From the tinny, jovial sound of his voicecrackling through the line, she could tell he had already caught the train toMargaritaville. With any luck, it had just left the station, and she couldextricate herself fairly gracefully.

The middle of the day... that's a new one.

"Case? Where are you? I heard it was the middle of the boondocks.Scully, are you investigating exsanguinated cows without me?" There was anechoing buzz in the background that Scully vaguely hoped wasn't a blender.

"Not really, Mulder. One of the NCAVC folks requested a pathologist. Ivolunteered." Better than spending another week lecturing bright eyedrecruits who haven't been let in on the lie, she finished cynically to herself.

Dead silence.

"Mulder? Are you there?"

"NCAVC?" Scully could almost hear the alcoholic fog lifting fromhis thoughts. "That's interesting. Anybody I might know from the old daysat Behavioral Sciences?"

Like that idiot ex-partner of yours? Scully asked silently. You know,the one who stole your profiles and almost got you killed? Aloud, shereplied, "I don't think so. Do you know Clarice Starling?"

A long, low whistle shrilled through the line. "Huntin' with the bigdogs, aren't you, Scully? Keep this up and Skinner won't be able to keep you inour little doghouse."

Scully bristled at her partner's tone-- by turns mocking, wounded andenvious-- and bit back the sharp retort that sprang to her lips. Our littledoghouse-- that's it, isn't it Mulder? You're terrified that you're going to beleft all alone to rot in your FBI hellhole of an exile. At least so far I'vebeen along to keep you company. "Is there something I can do for you,Mulder?"

A pause. "No, no..." The whirring sound again, and this time Scullyknew it was the blender. "Just wanted to see what you were up to. You guyswrapping it up down there?"

"I'm not sure. We've got a couple of leads that we still need to followup on, and I've got to perform the post." She shifted the phone again,waiting for Mulder to pick up the conversational ball and carry it to itsconclusion. A few awkward moments later, she realized she would have to do itherself. "Look, I'll call you when I get back into town, okay? We'll havedinner and I'll tell you all the gory details."

"Sure, Scully. Whatever... hey look, I've got to run. Catch youlater."

He was gone before she could say good-bye.

She tucked the phone back into its pocket and ran her fingers over hersuddenly aching temples. Ever since the X-Files had been burned and their officeclosed, things for Mulder had been steadily going from bad to worse. The onlytime he showed any sparks of life at all was when he was obsessivelyreconstructing the charred remains of the files-- desperately trying toreassemble his reason for living all these years.

The past few months had taught Scully a lot about her relationship withMulder. She knew now that they were well and truly bound to one another-- andthe shackles were beginning to chafe. She had given up a career in medicine tojoin the FBI and had willingly done the Bureau's bidding again and again as ithad cost her her sister, her child, and very nearly her life. Mulder had beenwith her every step of the way. Now that she wasn't willing to sacrifice theonly thing she had left-- her career-- to his martyrdom, he clung to her all themore tightly. She was fast becoming his only link to sanity, and Scully knewfrom past experience that his will was more formidable than her own. Shecouldn't save him now.

He could only drown her.

Thoughts of Mulder and their five-year partnership sent Scully's thoughtscareening into an unexpected direction: Clarice Starling. She didn't have to askto know that Starling didn't work with a partner, and it puzzled her that thetaciturn agent was willing to do so now. The dark-haired woman reminded Scullyof a Chinese puzzle box that her father had given her one year for Christmas.Its mahogany sides were burnished with age and worn by the fingers of countlessothers who had tried to divine its secrets, but as sound, strong and asbeautiful as it had been the day it was carved. She had taken to carrying itaround in her knapsack during college and working it during the odds and ends oftime that every student has, no matter how overburdened her schedule.

It had taken Scully close to a year and a half to unravel the combination ofmoves that would open the box. Her father had even forgotten he had given it toher when she presented it to him with a flourish. The delighted smile shereceived from Ahab remained with her still.

For Scully, unraveling Starling's secrets would be a much more personallysatisfying experience.

------------------

Derrington Apartments Asheville, North Carolina

It always amazed Starling how in the crime novels and thrillers-of-the-weekon TV the detective in charge always found a clue of significance in thedeceased's home. Unless the crime had taken place there, such an occurrence wasrare indeed, and Kimberly's apartment was no different. There were noincriminating love letters, no tell-tale footprints, no mysterious diary found.

What a surprise... Starling mused, watching the techies wrap up theirequipment. They had taken the photos for duplication and dusted for prints, butshe seriously doubted that Kimberly had either brought her killer home orconfronted him here. Nothing she had seen about the dead young woman struck heras the type who brought home tricks, and if he had taken her forcefully from herhome, there would be more evidence here. Evidence that just didn't exist.

He grabbed her. Snatched her right off into thin air... That was whyKimberly's whereabouts over the last three days were so important. If they couldfind the last logical place Kimberly had been before her abduction, then theycould start sniffing him out. Talking people up, jogging their memories. JackCrawford would call it "catching his scent." Like she was some sortof hound... Starling shifted uncomfortably at the analogy, howeverappropriate others deemed it. It implied she was Crawford's creature-- to becontrolled and turned loose at his discretion, brought to heel when deemednecessary.

Now they were asking her to be the master of the hounds.

Starling suspected that the offer had been made out of desperation by thepowers that be. When Benton Wesley had stepped down following the revelation ofhis involvement with Kay Scarpetta and Lucy Farinelli's resignation from CAIN,it had been bad enough. Then when Wesley had fallen victim to a serial killerhimself-- albeit one with a very personal interest in his demise-- a panic hadgripped NCAVC the likes of which Starling had never seen before.

Starling had no interest in either obtaining or wielding power. Make nomistake, she had a healthy respect for it-- having almost been crushed under itsrelentless wheels on more than one occasion; but filling Wesley's shoes held noappeal for her. Perhaps it was because she had observed too closely the powersthat be at work. As a student she had been dangled and manipulated at will byCrawford-- threatened, bullied, and ultimately almost expelled because of hisdesperation to catch a killer. She had a gift, and Crawford had recognized itlong before anyone else had. He threw her into murky depths that she had beenprepared for in no way...

"A job's come up and I thought of you... more of an errand really, aninteresting errand..."

He left her to find her own way to the surface... with the help of anunlikely mentor...

"I'll give you the one thing you crave most, Clarice...advancement..."

And had been almost patronizing when she not only swam, but finished ahead ofeveryone else, including himself...

"Congratulations, Clarice. Your father would have been proud..."

That still stung. Father figures had populated and tried to dominate herlife. Crawford, Lector were just the first two. Douglas had wanted to be... butWesley had wisely steered clear of her, recognizing that she neither needed norwanted camaraderie or compassion. Just let me do my job... She had almostconvinced herself that she didn't need anyone. Only the aching emptiness left byArdelia's departure still echoed in her soul, reminding her-- much to herchagrin-- that she was as human as the rest of them.

You can't be human when you're chasing monsters... Would that be the firstlesson she taught the recruits at Quantico? Would she tell all the beautifulyoung men and women who had known nothing but golden success whatever theirbackgrounds, Flay yourself alive... peel back mercy, peel back compassion,peel back tenderness until there's nothing left but muscle and sinew... pain andterror coursing through your synapses... that's what it means to do what I do.

How could she tell someone that? How could she show them? It was the reasonshe didn't work with a partner. Partnership implied trust beyond reason-- andshe couldn't even give that to the woman she loved. Taking someone with her downthese sanguine corridors was unthinkable.

But isn't that what you're doing now, Clarice?

The voice was Lecter's. A question he had never asked, but one that Starlingknew unerringly he would if given the opportunity. Lecter's voice in herthoughts was nothing new... it was as if he had imprinted himself upon herthought patterns during their brief acquaintance. Now that purring, culturedvoice often spoke to her, and she knew one day she would hear it in the fleshagain. For now, however, the question brought her up short.

And so, she thought about Dana Scully.

Smart, cultured... And beautiful, Clarice. Don't forget beautiful. Do youthink she's a natural redhead? Do you want to find out?

Starling shook her head angrily, attempting to chase the voice from herthoughts.

She chases monsters, Clarice. She's been their prey before. And survived themall. Would you like it better if she had a ragged scar down that beautifulporcelain face? Do you want incontrovertible proof of what you see in thoseeyes?

Starling left the apartment to the techies and clattered down the stairs,hoping to drown out the silky interrogation.

That's why you trust her, Clarice, in spite of yourself. When you look at heryou see reflected in those clear blue eyes something you've never seen before.Yourself.

Chapter 10

Motel 6 Asheville, North Carolina

I guess I'm all tied... And I'm stuck like glue to you... Cause I ain't NeverI ain't Never Loved a man... The way that I love you...

Music echoed in the small room as Scully pushed the door open and crossed thethreshold. The combination of the sound of rushing water and the steam billowingout of the tiny bathroom clued the red-head into her partner's whereabouts.Although she couldn't see into the room, a startled flush warmed her face as sherealized the door was open. Averting her eyes quickly, her gaze landed onStarling's narrow bed and the open "Gap" bag with its contents-- jeansand a shirt as near as she could tell-- strewn across the comforter. Herpuzzlement only grew as she saw an identical dark blue bag sitting somewhat moreneatly on her own bed.

"You're back. I didn't hear you come in." Starling's low-pitchedvoice greeted her from behind, and only years of control kept Scully frombetraying her surprise.

Unfortunately, however, she had missed whatever had been said."Pardon?"

"I didn't hear you come in." Clarice jerked her thumb towards theroom she had just exited. "The noise from the water..."

Scully chuckled. "And I thought it was because of the music."

It could have been just the heat from the shower, but Scully could have swornClarice's face reddened a shade. "Whoops. Sorry." She crossed the tinyroom and turned down the radio where Aretha still declared her undying devotion:

I ain't never... I ain't never.. No, I ain't never... Loved a man... Theway... The way that I... I love you...

"Starling, it's not a problem." Scully shook her head."Honestly, most days I come home and head straight for the bath, stoppingonly to turn up the stereo." And to pour myself a glass of wine...Speaking of which... She opened the compact refrigerator that operated inlieu of room service and held up a leftover bottle of Rolling Rock. "Youwant this? I think I'm going to have what's left of the wine." Notmentioning that there was a half a bottle left. Somehow I don't think ourstraight-arrow agent would appreciate that... Swiftly, she decided sheneeded the Clos Pegase's medicinal effects more than she needed to maintain herimage. She had been feeling slightly... well, unhinged... all day. Scully didn'tknow if it was the combination of the case, her bewildering surroundings, andMulder's call or-- to be brutally honest-- if it was simply the slight, butimposing, presence of her new partner that had caused her to feel increasinglyout of her depth as the day wore on. The mountain of paperwork she'd had to dealwith today was nothing unusual, and preparing Kimberly for transportation was--while not the most pleasant task in the world-- routine. Something she had donea thousand times.

"You're hunting with the big dogs, Scully...."

Leaning back into the refrigerator, she muttered under her breath, "Damnyou, Mulder." Mulder rarely admitted being impressed by anyone. And whileScully knew him well enough to write off his sardonic comment, the shocked pausefollowing the revelation of her new partner's name had told her far more than heever would.

Mulder was scared.

In a heartbeat, Scully realized that Mulder saw Starling as her ticket out ofthe self-created hell where they both now dwelled. Medicine wasn't a threat toher old partner-- he knew she would never be content to spend the rest of herlife in the teaching theater. Five years on the X-Files had seen to that.

But Starling...

Starling offered her the chance to make a difference once more. To do thework she had originally come to the FBI to do. Using all her formidable skillsand knowledge, Scully had a chance to walk the shadows with Clarice Starling andbring down the monsters that haunted the twilight.

The only question was: did Starling want a partner?

"Scully?"

Her name on Starling's lips brought her abruptly back to reality, and shefound Clarice staring at her with an odd, almost bemused expression. "Sorryabout that," she excused herself. "It's been a long, weird day."

Starling nodded, accepting the proffered beer. "I figured something hadhung you up when you didn't make it to Kimberly's apartment before the techieswrapped up."

"Some nice, helpful young man made sure I dotted all my i's andcrossed all my t's. The post is scheduled for noon tomorrow. I was goingto chopper out to Raleigh about eight. You want to come?"

"Probably. It depends on what we find out tonight." Starling,wrapped only in one of the thin, hotel towels, settled comfortably on the bedand ran her fingers through her wet hair. "Kimberly's apartment didn't giveus much, except to confirm she didn't meet our boy there, and that she probablywas gay. There were a couple of magazines and books." She leaned over thebed and tugged some pictures out of the side pocket of her canvas attaché case."I think Terri is in some of these pictures. Look at the third one from thetop."

Scully thumbed quickly through the duplicated photos to the one of Kimberlyand a dark eyed, intense woman. To Scully's eyes there was an air of elegantdecadence that seemed to emanate from the woman's image. It was at odds with thefresh-faced openness of Kimberly's smile. "Terri?" she asked, holdingup the picture.

"I think so," Starling agreed. "We'll find out tonight."She sat up and pulled the jeans into her lap, pulling off the tags that werestill attached. When Clarice stood up to tug them on underneath her towel,Scully discreetly turned away.

"What's this?" she asked, fingering the Gap bag.

"Well, since Charlie clocked us as cops the minute we walked into therestaurant this afternoon. I thought we'd try a more subtle approach tonight. SoI did a little shopping. Like all good towns, Asheville has a mall. And like allgood malls, it has a Gap. We're pretty close to the same size, I think."

Not exactly... Scully thought, catching a glimpse of Clarice's narrowhips and flat stomach in the bathroom mirror. She was aware that the cancer hadrendered her own body almost unrecognizable from its former lushness. Whereasbefore she had always carried a little extra weight in her cheeks, stomach andhips; the disease had mercilessly stripped it away from her. After theremission, she found that she had liked her new leanness-- the curious sensationof slicing through the air rather than displacing it when she walked. So she hadbegun a rigorous workout regimen, spending all her spare time at the gym; untilthe wasted devastation caused by the cancer was replaced by a lithe muscularitythat had provoked more than one inappropriate comment from Mulder.

Watching the reflected play of muscles in Starling's back as she dressed,Scully found herself contrasting the natural angularity of Clarice's body withthe manufactured one of her own. While she didn't think that Starling sawherself as any sort of ascetic, the look suited the agent-- granting her an airof purity in a Bureau ruined by its own corruption and greed.

"Okay..." Scully drew out the comment, a confused and not a littledisturbed by the pattern of her own thoughts. "Does that mean we're goingincognito? With Belinda Harris--"

"Not incognito, just low key," Starling corrected. "It's asmall town gay bar. They're already going to be suspicious of strangers. Todaywe might as well have been wearing "FBI HERE" signs around our necks.People in that bar aren't going to want to be seen talking to somebody likethat."

"The way Charlie described it didn't sound too 'small town' to me,"Scully disagreed.

Tucking her shirt in and refastening the buttons on her jeans, Starlingturned to face her partner. "Small town is small town. Doesn't matter howmany decorators you hire or what you call yourself. Down deep it's alwaysthere," she said flatly.

------------------

Cahoots Restaurant and Club Downtown Asheville

Though the jeans were a little more snug than what she was used too, Scullyhad to admit that Starling had chosen well. The dark jeans she wore contrastednicely with the pale blue T-shirt Starling had also picked out. She threw on theblack blazer she had worn earlier that day to complete the outfit.

And cover her gun.

Cahoots was just beginning to pick up as they arrived, and she contentedherself with just absorbing the atmosphere. Starling had clearly indicated thatshe didn't want to go in guns blazing-- metaphorical though they were. The clubwas casually upscale, with those little down-at-the-heels touches that let thepatrons know just how much money went into maintaining this "casual"atmosphere. The clientele was similarly dressed-down in the way that only themoneyed can. She could feel the pulsing throb of the music from the clubdownstairs vibrating the floor ever-so-slightly beneath her feet. Scullybreathed in the atmosphere, remembering the first time she had been in such aclub...

Sylvia was two years her senior, a second-year resident to her fourth-yearmedical school student. They had been roommates for nearly a semester before theolder woman revealed her deep dark secret: she was queer.

"So what?" was Scully's dead-pan response. "Don't you thinkI've noticed just how fond you are of Rita Mae Brown's novels? And how manytimes did you see 'Personal Best'? Sly, get over yourself and let's go get adrink."

It became a routine with the two women-- who became closer now that thesecret was out. Sly didn't have to hide her extra-curricular activities, andScully didn't have to worry about awkward attempts to fix her up with unwanteddates. It wasn't that she thought she was queer: it was just that medicine washer one, true passion. She had yet to meet anyone, of any gender, who could evenbegin to compare. Her roommate began taking her to the dark, mysterious barsthat were unlike anything the young med student had ever experienced. Scullyenjoyed these outings, had danced with just about anyone who asked; and yes, hadeven been kissed a time or two... but nothing had ever come of her occasionalevenings out. Eventually Sly met someone at one of those smoky places and theinvitations to "come dancing" stopped.

Still, the safe warm feeling of those nights remained with Scully, andsometimes-- when she'd had just about all she could stand from the "goodold boys" club that was the Bureau-- she would seek out one those placesand raise a toast in gratitude to her old friend and roommate.

"Judging from that look on your face, Scully, I'm not sure I want toknow what you're thinking," Starling muttered to her partner in a low tone.

Scully chuckled and answered without thinking. "It just feels odd to bein one of these places on business."

"Come again?" The abrupt tone in Starling's voice drew Scully'sattention from the wall decor and back to the woman beside you.

"You have to admit that it's not everyday FBI business that brings us togay nightclubs," she replied lightly. "At least not since J. Edgarleft the building."

"You visit many gay clubs in your spare time, Scully?" Starlingasked tightly, her demeanor screaming an almost painful discomfort.

"Well, it's not the first time I've seen the inside of one, Clarice,no," she retorted, more than a little irritated at Starling's attitude."Is this a problem for you?"

"How are you ladies tonight?" Both women jerked around at thepurring, velvet question. The owner of the voice in question was towered overboth Scully and Starling, topping out-- in Scully's best guesstimation-- atclose to seven feet tall.

Not counting the six inches of hair piled on her... his? Scully wasn'tsure... head. Cocoa skin was highlighted by a skin-tight white buckskin dressand matching white heels. Scully had the incongruous thought that if this wasn'ta drag queen, then the WNBA was missing its mostly likely prospect this season."Umm, two for dinner?" she asked hopefully.

The buckskin goddess frowned, as if considering the ridiculousness of such arequest. S/he tapped her foot rapidly and consulted a heretofore unseen clearacrylic clipboard. "I think I'll have something in about 45 minutes. Thebar's this way."

Not asking if they minded the wait.

Starling and Scully exchanged swift glances and then followed obedientlyalong.

"Here's the bar, here's the bartender, have at it, ladies..."

Putting a gently restraining arm on their host/ess' arm, Starling inquiredpolitely. "Is Terri around?"

Eyes so vibrantly green they had to be contacts narrowed at studied the twowomen appraisingly. "Are you friends of hers?"

"Friends of friends," Starling replied earnestly. "We know Kimfrom Converse, and she said the next time we were in town to look her and Terriup." Blue eyes peered innocently at the host/ess. "I've tried callingand calling Kim, but can never get an answer." She gestured at Dana."We're only in town for one more night, and I thought maybe Terri wouldknow where she is." A tiny shrug emphasized her loss for what else to do.

"I'll see if she's in," Buckskin agreed and stalked off, no doubtin search of more worthy patrons.

"Helpful little soul, isn't she?" Scully asked.

"As long as it gets us to Terri."

After they gave the bartender their order, an uneasy silence-- the first oftheir acquaintance-- settled over them. "Look, Starling, aboutearlier..."

"I'm sorry, Dana. I just assumed... well, let's just say when you add upCatholic, Navy and Bureau... someone who's comfortable in places like this isn'tusually what you get."

"The Church, the Navy and the Bureau don't give me my opinions,"Scully rejoined.

"Don't tell them that," came the dry reply.

A short bark of laughter escaped Scully's throat, and she shook her headruefully. "That's the truth." She held up the newly delivered Scotchon the rocks in a quiet toast. "Here's to welcome opinions in unexpectedplaces." A smile ghosted across Starling's eyes, dusting the pale blue witha warmth that went down well with Scully's Scotch. "So are you going totell me why you're so uncomfortable here?"

Starling shifted in her seat, her eyes moving between the woman beside herand their surroundings. She seemed about to speak several times, but fellsilent. After a few moments-- and when Scully concluded that she just wasn'tgoing to answer, Clarice finally replied. "Look around you, Dana. All thesepeople are holding hands with their lovers. But how many of them would do thatoutside this club or their own homes? How many of them lie to their bosses orfamilies because they might get fired or worse? Where's the joy in that kind oflife? Why is everyone here smiling?" Her eyes were faraway as she shook herhead slowly. "I just don't get it."

Scully stared at her partner, dumbfounded. Clarice's words carried withinthem a raw, unhealed wound that was visible in the way she held her body rigid--her fingers grasping the beer bottle as if it would ground her, separate herfrom the pain that was so obviously consuming her. Dana knew that she hadwandered into a minefield in her partner's soul, and she wasn't quite surewhat-- if anything-- she should do about it. She didn't know what shocked hermore-- that Clarice Starling carried with her such a deep, living wound; or thatshe chose to share that wound with with Scully at all.

Much less right now.

"Whenever I hear that two beautiful women are looking for me, I alwayscome running..."

Their conversation was abruptly interrupted as their barstools swiveledaround to face a strikingly dark-haired, dark eyed woman. The woman wasunmistakably the same one in the picture with Kimberly, and somewhere in theback of all Scully's thoughts, she knew they had stuck gold.

Onyx eyes darted from one woman to the other and then back again as thesuggestive smile slowly faded from her full lips. She stepped back a pace andcrossed her arms, her demeanor altering from seductive to sharp in an instant.

"You're cops."

Chapter 11

Scully and Starling exchanged a look that said, "So much for lowkey..." and took simultaneous deep breaths.

"Gee, and I had the Property of the Federal Bureau of Investigation tagsremoved three weeks ago," Scully deadpanned, ignoring her partner's raisedbrows. Judging from the dark look in Terri's eyes, this interview was mostlylikely over before it had even began.

But there was no harm in trying.

"So... mind if I ask what gave us away?" she inquired mildly. Evenif Terri didn't want to "talk" to them, the longer they could keep theconversational ball rolling, the better chance they had to pick up something.Anything at this point would be welcome.

A muted spark of humor fired in club owner's eyes. "Actually... nothing.Some reporter-- the one with the fat girl's name-- told me to be on the lookoutfor you two. Starling and Scully, isn't it? And I must say..." She surveyedthe agents again with a knowing glance that made both women burn uncomfortably."She didn't do you justice by half."

Scully shifted on the bar stool and crossed her legs, vaguely grateful shewasn't wearing a skirt. "I'm not sure that I want to hear thatdescription," she muttered, just loud enough to be heard.

Terri smiled charmingly. "She just said to look for the pair of womenwith identical blue eyes and matching rabid, hunting dog glares."

"Sounds like Belinda, all right," Starling replied dryly.

"Oh, but she got it so wrong." Terri turned her dark eyes onStarling fully. "Your eyes aren't identical at all. And rabid?" Shegave a delicate shudder. "Hardly."

"You'd describe us differently?" Scully asked, thinking that thedescription wasn't too far off the mark. Starling didn't start foaming at themouth when she saw Belinda, but it was close there for a while.

Dark eyes flickered over her own pale ones and held them. "She got theblue part right. I don't think I've ever seen eyes quite that clear. Do you wearcontacts?" She laughed lightly and waved her question off with a delicategesture of her hand. "Of course you don't. Wire-rimmed glasses, right? Andonly when you're working. Some people would think they were a vain affectationif you weren't so damn smart. And vanity--" She reached out and caressedthe tiny cross at the base of Scully's throat. "Isn't that one of the sevendeadly sins?"

"Actually, it isn't." Scully leaned back, just out of the range ofthat slim fingered hand. "You're thinking about pride, most likely."

"Know your catechism, don't you agent? But tell me, do you stillbelieve?"

Scully opened her mouth to object, but fell silent-- half hypnotized by thewoman's resonant voice.

"Because that's what I see in your eyes." She ignored Scully'saborted protest. "I see doubt and betrayal there." Terri shook herhead. "I don't know what altar you pray at or who your god is, Agent, butyou're not very happy with Him at all right now."

"We're a little far off the subject here," Starling objectedflatly, her eyes darkening with each exchange between her partner and the clubowner. She had no taste for the game that Terri wanted to play. Not here. Notnow. She desperately wanted just to get the information they needed and leave.

Terri turned on Clarice with questioning eyes. "You don't believe inanything-- except your own resourcefulness. You've known from the beginning thatthe game was all a big fix, and working from that theory has gotten you to whereyou are now."

Dime store Lecter, Starling thought dismissively. He would have thiswoman for dinner... She paused and considered her musings. Literally. Sheco*cked her head at Terri, taking in the sleek curves of the dark woman's body.Her clothing was tailored enough to show that she had a buff body and likedeveryone to know it. She was taller than both Starling and Scully-- but thatwasn't saying much-- and seemed to be mostly leg. That's where he'd start... Thethought occurred to her suddenly. He'd braise her thighs and garnish themwith her eyeballs. Or maybe he'd save those for dessert...

A shiver of revulsion coursed through Starling's body at the macabre timbreof her thoughts, and she knew she was exactly right.

Of course you are, Agent Starling... You've always known, of course, thatwe're more alike than different, Clarice. Always have been. Now the questionremains... what are you going to have for dinner? Metaphorically speaking, thatis...

"Really?" Starling's voice was disaffected, almost bored. "Yougot all that from my eyes? Or did you see the special that American Justice didon me about six months back?"

Flat black met even flatter blue. Checkmate.

"You're good," Terri purred.

"You're not," Clarice shot back. Her discomfort with the club andthe roiling feelings that her partner was unknowingly stirring up were suddenlygetting the better of her. Let Scully charm the restaurateur all damn night ifshe wanted to, but Starling was willing to bet that Belinda Harris hadn't. Fartoo many times the crime reporter had been one step ahead of the FBI agent onthis case. And it was going to stop.

Now.

"Touchy, aren't we?" The taller woman asked acidly.

"We--" Starling began, only to be cut off smoothly by her partner.

"We're not here to play games, ma'am. A woman is dead, and we'd like tofind out who's responsible for that. Somebody told us you cared about her. I'dthink you'd want to help."

It was a gee-whiz, awshucks line that usually only worked on small townsheriffs, but Terri seemed oddly charmed by Scully's unwavering gaze-- not tomention the slender hand that now rested on her wrist.

"All right," she acquiesced, sitting down beside Scully. "Whatdo you want to know?"

"When was the last time you saw Kimberly Ellis?"

"Three days ago. Two days before they... found her." For the firsttime, Terri's cool facade cracked, allowing both agents a look inside the womanthey were questioning. "Is it true what that reporter said? What... whatwas done to her?"

In mute fascination, Starling watched Scully stroke the woman's wrist with alight soothing gesture. Though the movement was meant to comfort someone else,Clarice could feel her own skin prickle in response.

"Don't think about that now," Scully murmured. "Think aboutthe last time you saw her."

"She was mad at me." The glitter in Terri's eyes had settled,turning the restaurateur's eyes a dull obsidian. "If I'd known what wasgoing to happen--"

"You can't know," Starling interrupted her. Going down thewell-paved garden path of the guilty of soul wasn't going to get them anywhere."There is no reason something like this happens-- at least not one sanepeople can understand. It wasn't her fault. Or yours-- for that matter."

"Well, I know she wouldn't have been out on that street alone. Hewouldn't have been able to grab her the way that reporter said he did."

"He would have grabbed someone else," Starling replied bluntly, notbothering to curse Belinda for her loose lips. "And then we'd be talking toher loved ones, hoping for the same answers that we're hoping for from you. Youcan't predict madness, Terri. You can only try and stop it."

"That's what you're doing, right?"

Starling exchanged glances with Scully. "We're trying, yes."

"Loved ones-- that's an interesting term, Agent." She laughedsoftly. "I've been called a lot of things, but I don't think loved one hasbeen one of them." Dark eyes narrowed. "You talk to her parentsyet?"

"I take it you didn't like them?" Scully asked.

"Her father's a prick and her mother's a doormat, but K lovedthem." Terri snorted. "I think I would've offed them years ago for theinsurance money. They're quite rich, you know." Terri glanced at theidentical frowns creasing the FBI agent's faces. "Just kidding, guys. Takeit easy."

"Try and remember you're talking to law enforcement officers,"Scully deadpanned. "It will make our lives a lot easier."

"The long arms of the law, eh?" Terri flashed another rakish smile."I could get into this."

Starling sighed and, rubbing a weary hand over her eyes, signaled thebartender for another round of drinks.

"Thought you were law enforcement officers?" Terri teased, seeingthe motion.

"Well, I figure since you seem to have no trouble forgetting that, socan I," Starling replied blandly. "You didn't like Kimberly's parents.So they knew about you and Kimberly?"

"Thanks Ralph," Terri acknowledged the bartender who neatly placedthree drinks in front of the women. "K was the straightest dyke I everknew. She was a schoolteacher for godsakes... Wanted the house, the kids, thewhite picket fence."

"She just didn't want the husband," Scully finished for her.

"You got it."

"I'd think it would be hard to be a schoolteacher and be gay in theseparts," Starling offered.

Terri shrugged. "You looked around this town lately? I think it's gotmore per capita dykes than any other place in the South besides Atlanta. Must bethe fresh mountain air we love so much."

"Still..." Starling hesitated. "You know how some people areabout gays and kids."

"Some people, Agent Starling? Do you count yourself among thatnumber?"

"No, I don't," Clarice replied evenly. "But I grew up in asmall town in West Virginia. We had a grade school teacher there--"Starling's eyes took on a slightly unfocused, faraway cast. "Name wasHawkins, if I remember right. He was an English teacher. Fussy guy, very welldressed-- for West Virginia, that is-- always wearing sweater vests and ties.Everybody called him Miss Priss behind his back, but nobody really minded him.Folks just thought that 'intellectuals' were different. Thanksgiving week oneyear, he had gone away for the holidays-- he always did-- some drunk kids gotinto his mail, and found some books that he had ordered. It wasn't anything bador p*rnographic, but it had the word gay in the title. That's all it took forthem to turn on him." Starling snapped her fingers. "Just like that,the whole town. He lost his job, his friends, his house. He finally ended upmoving on. I don't know where he landed." Solemn blue eyes focused onTerri. "I know the world's changed some in the last twenty years, but notthat much. You're telling me Kimberly wasn't in the closet?"

"Kimberly was in the closet to the people who cared. Most didn't."

"So her parents knew."

"Her parents wished they didn't. But, yes, for the record, K had comeout to them." Terri shook her head. "God, I hate that term. Her motherkept hoping it was a phase and her father thought it made her an irredeemabledegenerate. He probably thinks she got her just reward for violating God'slaw."

Scully flinched at Terri's last words, and Starling had a sudden insight intoher partner's last conversation with the man. No wonder she had been sofurious...

"What about you?" Scully prompted. "Where did you fit intothis cozy little picture?"

"That's the real question, isn't it? One that K was asking me all thetime."

"Did you have an answer for her?"

Terri examined Starling with a cool eye. "I'm not the... settlingtype," she finally admitted. "I never have been. And I thought K knewthat."

"But she didn't?" Starling prodded. At Terri's short nod, shecontinued, "And you two argued about it the last time you saw her."

"More or less." The restaurateur stared into her wine glass as ifit would give her the power to go back and change her words. "It was late--probably about midnight or one in the morning-- and I'd had a few." Sheglanced around the bustling restaurant. "Schmoozing, you know? That's kindof my job." She sighed heavily. "I guess what I'm trying to say isthat I wasn't too delicate about telling her exactly what I thought about theidea of settling down with her."

"So she was really upset when she left?" Upset enough not tonotice a psychopath was following her... Starling closed her eyes in silentprayer for Kimberly's soul. She probably never knew what hit her...

Terri only nodded, not looking at the agents.

"Thank you Terri," Scully murmured. Starling noticed her hand wasclasping the other woman's again, and she deliberately looked away, chasing awaythe unfamiliar skitterings of jealousy with the dregs of her Rolling Rock."That's exactly what we needed to know."

"Is there anything else?" Terri's eyes brightened.

"No, but I would like you to talk to one of the uniformed officerstomorrow. He'll take an official statement about what time you last sawKimberly. Think about what she was wearing, and if she told you where she wasgoing, that sort of thing."

"You think she'd tell me that after I told her to get lost?" Terrishook her head incredulously. "K may have been Miss Light and Love aboutsome things but she had her pride."

"Just think about it, Terri. Think hard." Scully handed her abusiness card. "My cell phone number is on the bottom. If you think ofanything else, call me."

A lazy brow lifted. "Can I call you if I don't think of anythingelse?"

A deep flush painted warm roses over Scully's cheeks. She smiled softly."You're a material witness in an ongoing investigation, so the answer tothat is no. But thank you for the offer."

"Fair enough, Agent Scully. At the very least, allow me to treat you andyour partner to dinner. Joy has a table all ready for you."

At Terri's words, the tall, imposing buckskin-clad host/ess appeared atScully's side. "Follow me," s/he instructed the agents curtly, as the restaurateurslipped away quietly.

"Joy?" Scully mouthed the word to Starling, rolling her eyes inamazement.

Starling shrugged noncommittally, her thoughts preoccupied with her owninability to concentrate. Everything about this investigation was going wrong--from having to deal with Belinda Harris in the middle of her investigation toher increasingly out-of-control response to her new partner. Scully made herthink about things she had no time for-- like why she was so ill-at-ease in thisplace or what exactly the red-headed agent thought of her-- and it wasdistracting her from the job. Her only goal was to catch a killer.

She owed Kimberly Ellis that.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Scully's resonant voice intruded onStarling's self-castigation, halting it in mid-tirade.

Starling met the unwavering concern in Scully's blue eyes, felt an unfamiliarsnake of desire begin coiling in her stomach. Maybe it was the Rolling Rock.Maybe it was the place they were in. Maybe it was simply the elegant line of herpartner's jaw and the soft hair that brushed gently over the skin there. AllStarling knew was that the last thing her mind was on was their businesstonight. She shook her head. "I don't know."

"I'm not sure what to make of Terri's performance either," Scullyagreed, misinterpreting Starling's remark. "A part of me kept watching herand thinking that the whole thing was a game to her."

"That's because it was," Starling replied absently, smiling faintlyat Scully's single-minded intensity. That should be me... a little voicechided her. "I doubt someone like her knows how not to play games. Evenwhen they don't want to."

"Her lover was murdered."

"And she feels guilty as hell about it. Doesn't stop her from playinggames," Starling rejoined, copying Scully's motion and laying her napkinacross her lap. Ardelia had been more of a drive-thru window kind of girl-- andthat had suited Starling just fine. Occasionally, however, they did make it outto dinner, especially after Del was transferred to Atlanta and the prying eyesof the Bureau weren't peering over their shoulders. Ha... I'm sure I've gotmanners I haven't even used yet, Starling scoffed mentally, eyeing theabundance of silverware on the table. Wonder what they'd say if I asked forChicken McNuggets?

"I don't get it," Scully said, draining her glass of scotch andnodding at the server's silent question. "Why the games?"

"You want the clinical answer?"

"What does he do, this man you seek? Thrill me with your acumen, AgentStarling..."

Starling squeezed Lecter's derisive voice out of her mind by concentrating onthe intense interest in Dana Scully's eyes. This wasn't a test. "By turningher questioning into a game, the subject distances herself from the horror thathas befallen the woman with whom she shared a bed-- and in some respects, alife. Studies also show that women tend to empathize more with the victims incrimes like this, very easily placing herself in the victim's position.Somewhere deep in her subconscious Terri knows very well that it could have beenher just as easily as it was Kimberly. If Kimberly had been killed by, say herfather in a fit of rage over her sexuality, we could at least make conscioussense out of that. But what sense is there in this killing? Quite simplyKimberly was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"There's always a trigger that sets the killer off."

"Sure," Starling agreed, pausing to take a healthy drink of her newRolling Rock. "But no one knows what that it is. Usually it's some physicalcharacteristic-- hair, size, age-- but it's all stuff you can't change. Besides,it's all moot if you don't know there's someone out there hunting you. How canyou hide from someone you don't know is there?"

Scully pursed her lips, absently studying the menu as she pondered Starling'swords. "So you think she was flirting with me as part of her game. Todistance herself from what happened?" She smiled wryly. "I've been hiton for worse reasons."

"No, I think she was just hot for you, Dana." Starling paused,watching with growing amusem*nt as Scully's jaw dropped open.

A full-bodied smile broke over Dana's face as she shook her head in surprise."Just when I think you don't have one, Starling, you bring out a sense ofhumor and clobber me over the head with it."

"Well, I wasn't sure if you'd recognize one. Last I heard, Spooky didn'tallow humor down in the X-Files," Starling replied tartly.

"Oh, Mulder has a sense of humor all right," Scully disagreed."It just takes you about three years to figure out when he's making a joke.And even then, sometimes I have to ask him."

"How's he handling them shutting the Files down?" At Scully'sstartled look, she added, "I know if they shut NCAVC down on me, I'd belost. It's my life."

Scully thought about that loaded statement, the implicit admission inStarling's words. However obliquely, Clarice was giving Scully a way into her,and the red-head wasn't about to pass up the opportunity. She smiled softly."Mulder goes to UFO conventions on his vacations. I'm sure you don't doanything analogous."

"No," Starling admitted, closing her menu. "I just don't takevacations."

"Ever?"

"It's not like there's a 'slack time' in my line of work, you know? Weestimate there're 20-25 active serial killers in the US alone. That's notcounting those who've gone inactive for some reason. There's a lot of death outthere, Scully. Who has time for the beach?"

The silence of a thousand unsolved deaths rested between the two women asthey regarded each other through the candlelight. The flickering lightheightened the austere planes of Starling's face, reminding Scully again of herdream of Starling as the reluctant martyr. Saint Joan indeed... Scullysilently mocked her fanciful musings. Nonetheless, it was that image whichprompted her next question. "You can't save the world, Starling. What'sleft for you?"

"I'm not trying to save the world."

"No," Scully retorted, "Just everyone in it. All thoseinnocents who don't know what walks around out there at night." She co*ckeda brow at her partner. "Who's going to save them when you can't,Clarice?" she asked, thinking about how Mulder's dedication becameobsession, resulting in a kind of insanity that had helped the Syndicate bringdown the X-Files. "What's going to happen when your single-mindeddedication drives you mad?"

Cold fire leapt in Starling's eyes as they bore relentlessly into herpartner. Silently she rose and threw several bills on the table. "Thisconversation is over, Scully."

Chapter 12

"Clarice! Wait!" Scully headed out of the club fast on herpartner's heels. The words had come out all wrong, and she had regretted them assoon as they left her mouth-- but by then Starling was already moving, alreadyshutting the tiny window into her soul that she had opened to Dana's scrutiny.

Kicking herself for her verbal gracelessness, she ran after Clarice's rapidlyretreating form, wishing she could explain why she had been so tactless. Thelast few months had revealed a whole different side to Mulder-- a destructivebitterness and resignation that frightened her. For some reason she didn't wantto see the same thing happen to the woman who was now her partner. From theirfirst meeting she recognized that there was something extraordinary aboutClarice Starling, and-- perhaps selfishly-- she didn't want to see that consumedby a quest that would only take from the gifted woman and leave her destroyedand lost at the end of the road.

"Clarice!"

The slender figure abruptly stopped, and Scully skidded to a halt in front ofher, black boots scuffing on the dark asphalt. The night swirled coolly aroundthem, making the warm glass storefronts of restaurants beckon to passersbyhurrying down the sidewalk. Scully spared a glance for her surroundings and thenfocused on the blankly cold eyes of the woman in front of her. "Thanks forstopping," she said awkwardly.

"The last thing I wanted was for Belinda Harris to see you chasing medown the street," Starling replied curtly. "That damned woman seems tobe everywhere these days, so she's probably lurking around here somewhere."

"Clarice--"

Starling held out a hand. "Look, Scully. You don't know me. I don't knowyou. After you perform the post tomorrow we never have to see each other again.So let's not worry about the warm-and-fuzzy here. Okay?"

The words were clipped, harsh, and precise; but Scully detected a waveringuncertainty underneath them. She had wounded Clarice, she realized. More thanshe had ever thought possible.

"I'm sorry, Clarice."

Simple words, and Starling blinked. Once. Twice. Seeming to take in herpartner anew. "It's nothing." She brushed away Scully's overture.

"No, Clarice," Seeing her partner flinch with every use of hername. "It is something. And I'm sorry. What I meant to say-- it just cameout all wrong--"

Starling looking desperately around her, as if searching for something toward off Scully's invasion. "Just forget it."

"No." Scully shook her head. "I won't. Not until you hear meout. If you still feel the same afterwards..." She shrugged. "Thenthere's nothing I can do about it."

"Why does it matter to you?"

Scully's mind went blank. Reasons, logic-- they had always been her tools.Useless now. "It just does," she finally answered. She gestured to thewrought iron table of a convenient bookstore-cafe. "Can we sit down?Please?"

Starling shrugged nonchalantly but followed Scully to the table andreluctantly took a seat.

"Thanks." Scully ran trembling fingers through her disordered hair.Why am I shaking? her mind queried below the thousand-and-one-things thatswarmed on the surface of her thoughts. "I--" She shook her head.

"Scully, just... let it go."

"No." Her voice, low. Emphatic. She took a deep breath. "Idon't know if this is going to make any sense... but... For the last five yearsmy life has consisted of one man's search for answers to questions I don't eventhink he remembers. I've seen and done things that I never thought werepossible. There have been times when I've almost died." She paused beforeadmitting a truth she had revealed to no one else. "And times where I justwished I was dead. Somewhere along the line it was like I had made a choice tolet everything else-- everyone else-- in my life fall away... And that left onlyMulder and the Files. I became like him. Only I didn't remember making thatchoice." Scully shook her head. "Then three months ago they burned theFiles to the ground. Closed the project. Mulder and I were left withnothing." She laughed bitterly. "Except each other.

"I suppose I was the lucky one, I always had my medicine to fall backon. Although I knew after the X-Files that it wouldn't be enough anymore."She met Clarice's eyes for the first time since she had begun her story."But Mulder... he's lost." Her eyes drifted away again from theintense figure before her, thinking of the last time she had seen Mulder. He hadbeen half-drunk and disheveled-- as usual these days-- when he showed up at herGeorgetown apartment at an ungodly hour. She had taken him in, given him coffeeand a blanket when he fell asleep on her sofa; but silently she had raged athim, wanting nothing more than to grab this stranger and shake him until sheshook her Mulder back out. Scully desperately missed the mocking, sardonic manwho had been her best friend. You're my courage, Scully... he had saidthat night, looking at her through red-rimmed, hazy eyes. And you're mydespair... she had thought at the time.

Now, looking into the clear-eyed blue of her new partner, Scully realized shehad been wrong. Clarice Starling would never end up like Mulder. Her courage--and her despair-- came from inside that shuttered soul. The only thing capableof destroying Clarice...

Was Clarice.

"How can you do this?" Scully asked abruptly, startling the composedwoman across from her. "Day after day. Year after year." Anuncomfortable anger began burning in Scully's chest, a building fury at Starlingfor so calmly accepting that her lot would be no more than this eternal hunt:chasing the darkness and the shadows away from everyone else while they slowlyconsumed her life. "There will never be an end to this, Clarice. You saidso yourself. Evil will never be in short supply in this world. How can you carryon knowing that after you catch this one, there will just be another one toface?"

In the silence that fell, footsteps on the nearby sidewalk became thunder toScully's ears, and the wind a dull roar. The wrought-iron beneath her fingertips cooled the mad heat of her skin and anchored her body which seemed to be indanger of flying completely away. The reckless beating of her heart threatenedto burst the muscle in her chest; and a small detached part of her mind lurkingbeneath the chaos marveled that she was able to remain seated at all.

Across from her Starling regarded her evenly, and after that endless momentof silence-- when Scully was convinced that she had just made a complete fool ofherself-- she rose.

The blue softened, blinked. A hand was offered. "Come with me."

------------------

Blue Ridge Parkway Outside Asheville, North Carolina

The drive was short-- only fifteen minutes or so-- Asheville wasn't that biga town. Starling wasn't sure she could remember exactly how to get there; buther body seemed to operate the car automatically, skillfully guiding the vehicleto its destination.

Her mind, freed from its responsibility to drive them safely, seethed.

She darted a quick glance to the woman beside her. She had known Dana Scullytwo days, and in that impossibly short time, Scully had asked-- demanded--knowledge of her. No one else had.

Well, almost no one... Clarice, I'm hurt. How could you forget me?

And as before... she felt compelled to answer.

"Here we are," she said, parking the car and dowsing the lights.She leaned across Scully to pop open the glove box and became conscious ofDana's scent brushing over her nostrils. The other woman smelled of subtlety andintellect; of warmth, musk and skin.

Her mouth watered.

"Flashlights," she said and was shocked at the rawness in her ownvoice. "You coming?" she asked brusquely to cover the sound.

Together, the clambered out of the car and made their way down the meanderingincline. The last three days of traffic through the area had cleared theoverhanging branches and trampled down the brush that led to the place whereKimberly Ellis's torment had finally ended.

A crime scene? Oh, Clarice, how romantic...

Starling was conscious of Scully's graceful movements beside her as theywordlessly traversed the path. Her partner seemed oddly at peace having saidwhat was on her mind, now-- it seemed-- it was Starling's turn.

"It was all over for her by the time she came here." Starling'squiet words broke the silence for the first time since they left the car."God had her by then."

"You believe in God?" Scully's question was startled.

In the darkness Clarice cracked a wry smile. "That's a funny questioncoming from a practicing Catholic. Anyway... Crawford always said that in thisline of work you'd be a fool not to." She shook her head. "I don'tknow what I believe. Never really thought about it much."

Never could afford to... Crawford wanted to think that all the bad guys wentone place and all their victims went another. That there would be some rewardfor what was senseless suffering in this world.

"I just don't know..." she mused aloud. She focused on the dimoutline of her partner. "It's a nice thought."

The investigators had left this spot, but the palpable sensation of thehorror's presence still remained. For years after, Clarice knew, people wouldslow on the highway, point to the spot and whisper furtively. More macabrevoyeurs would actually make the trek to the site, thrilling in the knowledgethat this was where a killer stood... Whether or not they caught him.

She had followed that path once, herself. Three years after her first case--after Lecter had first touched her life-- she returned to the house inBelvedere, Ohio where she had taken her first life. The papers and cops hadcalled him "Buffalo Bill" but Lecter had always called him"Billy." As if he were a child.

As if he were a son.

She was more Lecter's child than Billy had ever been, but they had both beentouched by Lecter in some odd fashion. So she had returned to that place, notknowing why, but driven there nonetheless-- by the nightmares, by the alcohol,by the breakup with Ardelia.

The house was gone by then... the realtors had demolished it shortly afterthe FBI had finally turned it over to Mrs. Lippman's heirs. The basem*nt wellthat had been seven women's last stop had been filled in, the whole basem*ntcemented over. But it didn't erase the eerie chill that seized Clarice's spineand shook her to her very core.

Billy was dead. Catherine Martin alive. And Lecter...

Lecter was loose. Waiting, watching.

"The world's a more interesting place with you in it, Clarice. You seethat you extend me the same courtesy."

What would happen when Lecter called for her?

"Clarice?"

Starling co*cked her head in the dimness. Decided she liked the sound of hername on Scully's mouth. Not answering, just to hear it again.

"Clarice?"

"Sorry. Woolgathering."

A quiet chuckle. Starling could almost see the sound rolling off Scully'slips. "We seem to do that around each other a lot."

"You make me think, Scully."

A surprised pause. "Really?"

"Not many people do that."

"No?"

"It's hard to have meaningful exchanges with people when they're busythinking of you as the Bride of Frankenstein."

"Lecter."

Not a question. The first mention of her mentor from the other woman.Starling admired her restraint.

Isn't that what you brought her here to talk about? The voice in her headmercifully wasn't his, but her own. The screaming. The silence. The dreamsthat she seems to know about without even asking. Did you sleep well, she askedme this morning. Was it only this morning? Seems like a lifetime ago... alifetime with someone like Scully. What would that be like?

"There was one conversation between Lecter and me that Chilton didn'trecord." She didn't bother asking Scully if she had heard the other "Lectertapes"-- as they were known around the world. The FBI agent would have hadto have been dead to have missed them. Starling's laugh was brittle. "Itwas the punch line to all our conversations. Without it, everything before thatseems so... anticlimactic."

"How so?"

Starling's voice was faraway. "The lambs... they were screaming duringthe spring slaughter. The noise was horrible, like nothing I'd ever heard-- evennow. Not human, but close... If I were the religious sort, I'd imagine it wasthe sound a damned soul makes in hell. Wailing. Plaintive. Helpless.

"To make a long story short, I was twelve. Tried to grab a lamb and run,but I didn't get far. I just wanted... their screaming to stop."

"Their suffering, you mean."

"An simple extrapolation, isn't it? I always thought Lecter had it tooeasy where I was concerned. I suppose I had some image of myself as a knighterrant... wandering the countryside... but..." Starling abruptly twistedthe flashlight off, rendering both herself and Scully as twilit shadows.

The moon was close to full, the clouds parting to allow its gossamer raysthrough. Clear and cool, the air danced over them, lacking the warmth from thecity just below them. Starling could see Scully shiver faintly in the night."Joan of Arc," Scully said softly.

"Pardon?"

"Joan of Arc... Last night..." She hesitated, and Starling wonderedwhat she had been about to reveal. "I looked at you last night, and Ithought of Joan of Arc."

"I remind you of a cross-dressing virgin who heard voices and was burnedat the stake?" Starling's question was wry, but underneath Lecter's voicesnickered.

That's not too far from the truth, now is it? The virgin and the voicespart... and they may still burn you if you're not careful...

Scully laughed softly. "You were the one who called yourself a knighterrant."

"Well, I was wrong."

Scully's silence was question in and of itself.

"The screaming stopped... but..." Her boots scuffed alreadydisturbed leaves from their rest. "The silence is worse," shewhispered. A shameful admission that no one... not even her spectral hellishangel Lecter... would ever hear.

Scully was beside her in an instant. Less. Her mind reeled as soft fingersgripped her shoulders, and Scully's eyes seemed luminescent in the dark.

"Scully," she murmured, drawing the delicate lines of the otherwoman's face near. She didn't think as her own hands wound themselves in thethick auburn tresses, only faintly acknowledging that she had wanted to eversince she first laid eyes on the other woman. "Dana..." An apology inthe name, knowing she was crossing a line that she had never crossed before.Ardelia had come to her; never before had Clarice in thought or action said Iwant....

Laid herself bare to another's rejection.

Her mouth was on Scully's now. Cool lips on the fire that raged in her soul.Dana's arms were strong, tight around her in the darkness, protecting her fromthe madness that lurked just beneath the shadows.

Continued in Part III: Flame.