Clarice was awakened by sharp pains all over. Her stomach clenched and she thought she would vomit, her body, being faster than her mind, reacted quickly by rolling over and she dry-wrenched on the ground beside her.

After the unpleasant sensation of nausea finally calmed, she rolled on her back. She felt weak and shaky, thirsty and hungry, but worst of all she felt confused. Waking up not knowing where you are or if you are injured is a jarring experience, and Clarice felt she succumbed to that too much for her liking.

She wasn't sure if getting hit on the head caused her a lot of damage, but she knew two things- one, that she had been knocked out for a substantial amount of time, because it was dark and she wasn't in the woods; and two, that she was somewhat chilled for the first time in a long time. She recognized that her arms were scratched up and her head was pounding. Her clothes were even slightly damp.

As she ran her hands over her arms she found dry blood and dirt crusted on her.

"God damn it, I just did the laundry." She groaned, knowing her clothes were probably just as bad. Hysteria gripped her and she started to giggle as she thought about how heavily the laundry had distressed her.

Her giggles turned into laughter, and something in the back of her mind pushed forward to remind her that her reaction was beyond inappropriate. She struggled to silence herself, trying to not feel so frightened at her bizarre impulse.

It's okay, Clarice, you just need to calm yourself down.

She took a few really deep breaths before slowly sitting up. She could tell her nerves were shot because her hands were shaking.

It wasn't completely pitched black; there was some source of light hidden from her view. She was able to look at her hand as she held it close to her face, and concentrated as her eyes adjusted.

She put down her hand and observed her surroundings.

"Are you kidding me?" She gasped, recognizing she was trapped in wall of smooth stone.

The light source was blocked from jutting rocks overhead, easily thirty feet up. She could see that if she attempted to climb out of the rock-cave-pit she'd risk substantial injury or death. The walls were too smooth and almost completely vertical, for a sick moment it reminded her of Jame Gumb's stone well.

The scratches on her arms and her bruised legs were starting to make sense now… someone had put her here, and they hadn't been very gentle.

A whistle erupted from the wind as it blew over the mouth of the cave, and a faint whisper of rushing water was constantly in her ears. As Clarice pushed herself off the ground she felt her right thigh especially sore. To balance herself she held a hand out and jumped in shock as she placed it on a person's body, and not on cold stone as she had expected. A hand had gently, yet firmly, grabbed her left wrist and clasped on her in what felt like a reverse handshake.

"Hello Clarice." Hannibal's voice spoke from the shadows.

He had been watching her the whole time, which was slightly embarrassing considering he had observed her go into a nervous fit. She chose not to dwell on it; instead she pulled all her strength into appearing calm. Their gaze met, and she saw his eyes were shining in the low light, they reflected like a wild animals. Everything else was a dark outline, like black on gray.

"What are you doing? Let go." She said trying not to sound too surprised at his sudden appearance.

"No."

His grip tightened when she tried to pull back.

"Are you insane?" She whispered. She recognized immediately it was a poor choice of words.

"Some would say." He replied slowly, the warning in his voice ringing clear.

She was shaking badly now, he had recently murdered a man, she was weakened by hunger and whatever else had happened to her, and she had just insulted him.

"How are you feeling Clarice?" She heard him ask clinically. His thumb was stroking her hand, every brush sending a wave of alarm up her spine.

God, what a nightmare.

"Not too good." She replied honestly. She had let her accent go thick by mistake, which it often did when she was in a heightened emotional state.

"It seems we're in a bit of a predicament, don't you agree?" He asked.

"So you didn't do this?" Clarice asked, pointing around to the cave with her free hand. She wasn't sure if he could see her gesture, but if anyone could it would be him.

"And what would I gain joining you in this pit?" He asked her.

She made an attempt to yank her hand away once more and his grip became painfully tight.

"I don't pretend to know how you think." She growled, ashamed of her pathetic attempt.

"Fair enough." He replied civilly.

"Is there any particular reason you refuse to let go of my hand?" Clarice asked.

"Yes."

"Are you going to tell me why?"

"No." He replied evenly.

"Could you please loosen your grip, Doctor, you're hurting me." She asked.

He didn't reply, but his grip slackened. She tested it slightly and his hand was still firmly clasped on her own.

"Is that, like, your hand now?" She asked. He still didn't reply, which caused her more frustration than she'd care to admit. He began to pull her to himself, Clarice hadn't expected it and stumbled forward, her other hand laying on his chest to catch her balance, which he captured the same way he had the first hand.

"God damn it." She cursed in his face. "Alright, that's enough- let go."

"No." He said softly.

"…You're freaking me out." She admitted. She wasn't sure that was a wise thing to tell him, but she was being honest and hoped it would halt his erratic behavior.

"My most sincere apologies." He replied. He had said it very politely, but he hadn't made any motion to release her.

"I'm going to knee you in the groin if you don't let go." She told him.

"That would be very unwise."

"You leave me little choice."

"…I'm curious, tell me Clarice, were you a destructive child?" He asked her, completely changing the tone of their interaction. "Did you make it a habit to break your toys?"

Clarice flushed deeply and was thankful for the darkness. She wasn't sure if he was implying that his testicles were "her toys", but she was unable to stop the thought once she made the connection. She realized she had hesitated too long.

"I'm not playing games with you, let go." She said choosing to ignore his question. "Fun's over, stop or I'll make you."

"I gave you fair warning." He said calmly. "Keep that in mind if you foolishly decide to follow through with your threat."

"And I've asked you many, many times- nicely- now, get off." She snarled. He jerked her wrists sharply and she lost balance once more, falling into him. He was leaning against some sort of pillar, now holding her wrists behind his back.

She struggled to gain her footing as he held her. Their chests were now touching and she was pressed against him.

"Doctor-"

He growled and she felt his teeth nip her neck. She broke into a cold sweat and screamed. She was now trying to lean back, her footing unbalanced, and she gasped as she felt his teeth lightly biting a patch of skin. His teeth, after a few heart-stopping seconds, were replaced with his lips as he sucked on the sore spot he had made.

"A-are you giving me a hickey?" Clarice asked breathlessly. If she had any extra liquid in her system she was sure she would have pissed herself with fright. Thank god for small favors. "Why…?"

The place where he had bitten was throbbing with heat and wet from his mouth when he removed himself from her neck.

"Why? Because I don't appreciate being threatened with bodily harm any more than you do." He replied in a low rasp, his face very close to hers. "Consider this an exercise in empathy."

"Empathy? That's rich coming from you. You murdered a man-"

"-You mean I killed a murderous stranger." He interrupted her. "Is that how you see me? A mindless, violent animal without empathy, a monster that will attack and kill you on a whim?"

"No." Clarice replied truthfully.

"Then why are you so frightened?" He asked. She was shocked to hear true anger in his voice.

"…I'm scared of heights, Doctor, even when I'm standing on solid ground." She replied. He paused and considered her answer, and she was relieved that it seemed to be a good one as the tension melted between them. "Would you please let go of me? Please?"

His grip loosened and she was able to slip her hands out of his. She didn't want to look too upset or eager to get away from him as she stepped backward slowly.

"Thank you." She said, rubbing her hands.

He didn't respond, he only stood in front of her, a shadow in front of shadows, watching her.

"How long was I out?" She asked. She was desperate to move past their dreadful episode.

"Hours." He replied.

"What's happening, Doctor?" Clarice asked, trying to seem in control.

"Before I answer you, I'm going to ask you some questions because I'm concerned the blow to your head could have given you a concussion." Hannibal said. "If you can't see, feel my hand and tell me how many fingers I'm holding up."

"Huh, you mean that's a real medical thing?" Clarice asked. She really didn't want to touch him, but she wasn't sure how he'd react if he sensed he repulsed her.

"Now is not the time for jokes." He chided her.

Clarice grabbed his out-stretched hand and ran her palm over his figures.

"Two." She replied, dropping her hand to her side quickly.

"Good." He said. "Do you feel nauseous?"

"I was, but I think I'm okay. I'm starving." She admitted. "I feel weak."

"Dizzy?"

"A little."

"Confused?"

"Yes. I mean, about what happened, not in general." She clarified.

"Do you recall how many fingers I held up?"

"Two."

"Excellent."

"…Where are we?" She asked, taking a moment to recognize her surroundings.

The floor was stone and slick with moisture. Clarice had spent so much time feeling over-heated and hot that it was strange to feel chilled- though it was just as unpleasant.

"A cave." He replied.

"Yeah, I can see that."

"It's possible that we are in the opening of a where water flows in and carves out a passage downward into a cave cavern. It would be far too dangerous to explore. This is a very suitable prison."

"So we are stuck." Clarice said, her heart sinking. "How'd we end up here?"

"Eric found more recruits." Hannibal said. "A gentleman I don't recognize saw us disembowel Marcus, it was he who struck you on the head."

"Us? We did not kill Marcus." Clarice raged.

"They saw what they wanted to see." He replied. "If you allowed me to keep the knife I probably could have kept the wolves at bay. I suspected that Marcus would not come alone."

Clarice rubbed her face, feeling tired.

"…Do you think they're going to kill us?" Clarice asked.

"Wouldn't you?" Hannibal replied.

"No." Clarice said turning to him, upset. "Of course not."

"…This is going to be difficult for you to hear, but they certainly sounded pleased with the suggestion of killing us." He said. "They expected me to eat or attack you. I believe they left us here to die."

"What- left us here? They're not coming back?" But- I don't think they'll kill me if I told them everything." Clarice said in shock.

"Everything? Including our fun little game?" He asked in his low, playful voice.

"I mean about Marcus." She replied, not rising to his bait. "I can tell them I had nothing to do with those death-pits or your killing him."

"Would you blow me a kiss if they took you away? Or would you be spit in my face to strengthen your story to renounce me as your partner?" He asked, with faux pleasantness. "Perhaps they'll give you back your gun and you can shoot me. Then they would have to trust you!"

"Stop it." She said, feeling sick. "I wouldn't do that."

"We are either in this together or we're not." He said, the mirth gone. "I warned you not to make a fool out of me."

"But I didn't kill Marcus, you did!" She replied angrily.

"And you believe groveling for your life to those dullardswill cause them to pardon you?" He scowled. "Cowards die many times before their deaths; but the valiant taste of death but once. For your sake and mine, don't defile your life's reputation with an undignified end."

"I don't want to die for your crimes." She seethed.

"It's too late for that. I was your best shot out-living this island- and your worst." He replied.

She hated how true his words were.

"So what now?" She asked him.

"We stay here to await our fate. It might be death and it might not; the future is always uncertain. …I have some skill in preparing others physiologically for situations such as these. I will give you what comfort I can, physically and mentally, if you request it." He replied.

She was certain he had just offered her sex, among other things.

"You don't have any bright ideas about getting us out of here?" Clarice asked.

"Do you hear the rushing water?" Hannibal asked her.

"Yes."

"Somewhere there is a passageway into the cavern below. However, we have an exit 10 yards above, whereas an exit below can be for miles. I don't think we'll survive it. Our best escape attempt will be up, not down." He informed her.

"So we should try to escape." Clarice

"You and I are dehydrated, weak from hunger, and amateur rock-climbers with no equipment." He replied. "It's unfortunate but our fate rests with outsiders and we are not in their favor. They might not even come back for us."

The reality of their situation suddenly crushed her. He was trying to tell her that their good luck had finally run out. Tears sprung to her eyes, and terrible thoughts flooded her; she realized that she had been holding onto hope, she was so sure that she'd be rescued even if it meant it would be years from now.

"I know fast and painless ways to end a life. If the burden is too great…" she heard Hannibal say softly to her. His eyes shined in the moonlight. "…you need only ask."


Clarice hadn't taken any offers Hannibal had suggested to her. She didn't want sex, psychological coaching, or to be part of an assisted suicide. He hadn't spoken to her through the night, nor had he touched her. She was thankful that he had given her space, both mentally and physically.

She spent most of the night looking at the sky and thinking about her life. She had regrets, but they were minimal, most of them involving her time there on the island. She regretted that Ardelia would probably never know what happened to her, and the pain she'd leave her.

It was very early morning when she fell asleep. She dreamed that she had climbed out of the pit, only to be thrown in over and over, until her hope had completely faded. She dreamed that her bones were intertwined with Hannibal Lecter's. She woke up crying, and saw Hannibal studying her, awaiting any instruction to take action.

She wiped the tears from her face.

"I want to ask you something…" She said. He didn't interrupt her but lifted his head slightly. "I know you told me not to ask again...but I'm hoping you'll give me some sort of pass…considering."

He blinked, which was odd for him.

"Who is Mischa?" She asked.

"…She was my beloved baby sister." He replied.

Clarice's imagination built a history around him and his sister. She didn't know why it felt so unlikely he had family, but to her it seemed surreal.

"Does it surprise you that I cared for her?" He asked. "You think I would use love to manipulate, that my display of emotion are all insincere, just another modus operandi of a psychopath, correct?"

"I don't know what you are, honestly."

"I'm a man." He replied. He turned to her, strangely without emotion. "There you have it, Clarice, the big secret. Unlike most human beings, I can love honestly."

She didn't know what to say.

"What did you dream about?" He asked her.

"Getting out of this cave, mostly." She replied. She sniffed. "I was unsuccessful."

"Have you given any thought to my offer of comfort?"

"Maybe later." She replied.

"Now we are sharing our last sentiments, I think it would be appropriate to inform you that I lied to you." Hannibal said. "When I told you that our brush with romantic love was forgotten, and that it never happened, I was lying. The truth is I cherish what little of you I had, and selfishly regret that I didn't have more."

Clarice rubbed her face with her hands. Trust Hannibal Lecter to make her love-life as complicated as possible, even in their last moments.

"Thanks." She replied.

She thought a breeze blew over the mouth of the cave, but it was mixed with another sound, and for a brief second her heart stopped.

"Did you hear that?" Clarice gasped.

The unmistakable sound repeated itself- it was a man was yelling something, but to Clarice it wasn't recognizable.

"It's a rescue team." Hannibal replied coolly. "I heard their helicopter this morning."

"Oh my God." Clarice gasped. "Please, I don't want to die here." Clarice said. She wasn't even angry with him for keeping the helicopter secret. "I know you don't want to go back, but I do."

He put two fingers in his mouth and blew. The whistle from his lips was surprisingly loud and cut through the air much better than her hoarse shouting. Clarice was amazed that she had to cover her ears. He blew three times, pausing for a second between each whistle, and starting again. She recognized it as morse code for SOS.

"Is someone down there?" A voice called.

"Yes! Agent Starling!" Clarice replied. "Hannibal Lecter is down here too!"

She saw, between the rocks, a man's face looking down on them.

"The cannibal?" He called, sounding alarmed. "Ma'am, are you in any immediate danger?"

Clarice saw Hannibal Lecter's face, completely blank, staring at her.

"No…I don't believe so." She replied.

"…Okay. Stay there!" Her rescuer called down to her.

She thought it was a stupid thing for him to say, until she realized his dumb comment was born of fear.

Hannibal Lecter stood as still as the rock around him. While they awaited rescue, he wouldn't speak or interact with her despite her efforts.

They were returning to the world, the one where he was a murderous cannibal and Clarice was Agent Starling, and there was no pact between them.


Clarice wasn't a fool. She knew she'd be lucky if she avoided prison, even though she didn't feel she had done anything criminal. There was no question she wouldn't remain an FBI agent, she was certainly out of a job.

But that wasn't why she was so nervous. She had to talk to Hannibal Lecter. She wondered if it was because she knew it would be her last chance to see him. She wasn't even sure what she'd say.

Before she had been suspended from the FBI, she had made some inquiries to find out where Hannibal Lecter was taken. All the survivors had been rushed to the Philadelphia Hospital except him.

Hannibal hadn't made it to Philly, he was being hidden away from all major cities and was on full lock-down in a medical facility in Northern Delaware. Once Clarice had been given notice she was released from the FBI's care, she made arrangements to spend a restless night in a hotel overlooking the Walt Whitman bridge. The modern construction was a reminder to her she wasn't living in an isolated nightmare.

Clarice had taken two showers that morning. The first was to get rid of the grime under her fingernails that she hadn't been able to scrub away; the second was to clear herself of the nervous sweat she couldn't rid herself from. She was suspended- and for very good reason. The story of plane crash survivors struggling to live on a dangerous island with a murderous cannibal had every journalist foaming at the mouth- and the FBI. No one quite knew how to handle her. People had died, and she was scheduled to be questioned in four days.

It was early morning when she had her things packed up to leave. The continental breakfast wasn't even open, but she still gave a polite wave to the man placing stale bagels in a plastic tin as she walked by. He must have been charmed by her manners because he brought her a fresh apple, which she accepted before she left.

Clarice hailed a taxi and ate the fruit during the long ride. Eating kept her preoccupied as her stomach twisted with anxiety.

What if he was angry with her? She didn't speak to him during the entire plane ride back into the States; she didn't even look at him. Would he consider that betrayal? She had been so overwhelmed by the sudden rush of modern reality, that coming back had left her confused and overloaded.

Everything felt intense, even the apple she ate tasted incredibly sweet. The plane crash had changed her life. The time she spent with Hannibal Lecter had also changed her, she realized there were situations he had manipulated, but he had also shown her great kindness and devotion.

Which is why she wasn't sure if he would begrudge her for returning to her normal life without him.

What was she going to say?

She thought she would come up with something- anything- during the taxi ride, but everything she came up with fell apart. If she apologized she wasn't even sure what it would be for.

She paid the taxi driver and stepped into the hospital. There was a lecture hall on the top floor where Hannibal was being held.

As she approached the hospital receptionist, the woman behind the desk shot her a long, shameless stare.

"Can I help you?" She asked, briefly looking to the community television.

Clarice observed a news station was playing an information piece on the crash. Her photo, along with all the other survivors, flashed the screen briefly as the newscaster repeated vague information in twenty different ways.

"I'm here to see Doctor Lecter." Clarice admitted.

"You and half of America I think." The woman replied. She looked pleased; there was no doubt that she was excited to talk to Clarice.

"Doctor Lecter approved a joint interview with the FBI." Clarice lied. "Are there reporters upstairs?"

"There are more reporters than doctors in this building, and some are posing as doctors too." The woman gossiped. "Miss Starling, I have to ask, how did that evil man not rip you to pieces?"

"I don't know." Clarice replied.

"Well…the elevator only goes to floor 29. You can take it but you'll have to go up the stairs to get to 30. You'll be stop by some officers." She lowered her voice slightly. "I wouldn't give them any trouble, they've had to deal with a lot of shenanigans already, you get me?"

Clarice nodded.

"Thank you for your help." Clarice said politely before departing. She located the elevator. When the doors opened a handsome young man slipped in and hit the "close door" button.

"Floor 29, am I right Mrs. Starling?" He said with a sly smile.

"Miss." Clarice corrected him. "Are you a reporter?"

"Hey, don't lump me in with all those other assholes." He laughed as he pushed the button. He must have been fresh to his reporting job, because he hadn't yet learned bad language was a poor substitute for charm.

"Yes or no?" She asked him.

"Yes but-"

"Wonderful." Clarice interrupted him. "I'm going to need your help seeing Doctor Lecter. Tell the officers we're scheduled for an official interview, that it was spur of the moment. The FBI has authorized it; if there's any trouble they can speak to Doctor Lecter's lawyer and you have him on speed-dial. Okay?"

He gawked at her and laughed when the elevator doors opened.

"Sure- yeah- whatever!" He agreed. "Um…we're not doing anything illegal are we?"

"No." Clarice lied.


With a little confidence and straight-talking, Clarice and her tag-along finally convinced the troopers with shotguns she had a legitimate purpose to there. It seemed to Clarice everyone was overly curious about her time on the island, and because she had largely kept it a mystery she found people will eager to let her talk.

She took a deep breath as she walked down the many steps towards a platform in which was built a familiar looking cage. It was the same cage she had seen Hannibal in the time she had asked for his help on the Jame Gumb case. He had rearranged the position of some of his belongings, but she saw he still had the small side-table and was reading.

"Good morning Clarice." He spoke clearly from behind his book.

"Hello Doctor." Clarice said stepping on the platform.

"I see you've brought a friend."

"My name is Joshua-" He starting holding out a hand and fiddling with it foolishly in the air as Hannibal lowered his book and glowered at him hungrily.

"Hello Joshua, Clarice and I are catching up." He said. "Would you please wait with officer Nolan until we're finished? Thank you."

Joshua looked between them, a panicked, disappointed frown.

"We'll do an interview." Clarice reassured him.

Joshua seemed conflicted, but thankfully was able to get the hint and stopped talking.

"So how many journalists have you had to turn away?" Clarice asked

"All but one." He said looking to Joshua, who was reluctantly retreating to the armed officer in the corner. Hannibal marked his place in his book and placed it on the side table. He turned his swivel-chair to face Clarice. "'Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall'."

He paused to allow Clarice to absorb the comment.

"You didn't sign-in under 'Agent Starling', did you?" He asked her, his voice raspy.

"I'm suspended…for now. I doubt they'll keep me." She replied. "They're going to do an investigation."

"And what will you tell them?" He asked, his eyes shining.

"I don't know. The truth sounds a little unbelievable," she dropped to a near-whisper, "I'm not really comfortable admitting I had some sort of treaty with you, Doctor. Especially since you murdered someone."

"In self-defense." He replied.

"That's not what everyone else is saying." Clarice replied icily.

Hannibal clicked his tongue.

"It's entirely believable I coerced you into being my accomplice." He said. She recognize he was giving her permission to further destroy his reputation. "Anything else?" He asked raising his eyebrows.

This was when the thinking in the long taxi ride would have paid off, if she could come up with a good reason to be here. She couldn't move herself to speak, and yet he patiently awaited an answer.

"I don't think I'll be able to see you again." She said.

"How does that make you feel?" He asked.

Once again, he got to the heart of the issue.

"A little sad." She replied honestly.

"'A little'?" He said licking his lips. He was swiveling slowly in his chair. "Did I make you happy, Clarice?"

She was taken aback by the odd question. She had spent most of their time at the island starving, worried, sunburned, and afraid, but she had never considered if the experience had brought her any positives.

He was still swiveling in his chair, but Clarice noticed he was studying her reaction with fierce intensity.

"You made me happy, sometimes." She replied.

"Which times were those?" He asked softly.

"When you were being…civil to me." She replied. She wanted to be honest, but it was difficult for her to admit some of the things that she had done. "When you took care of me… and when you shared your affections with me."

His blank, intense expression didn't falter.

"You have to go." He said. "The policeman is starting to understand this interview is not authorized."

Clarice's throat tightened.

"Goodbye Doctor." She said, swallowing thickly. She turned to leave.

"Before you leave, I have something for you." Hannibal called to her.

When she turned, she saw he had risen from his chair and was strolling casually to the side, obscuring the view the policemen and journalist. She tried to look casual as she walked towards him. Hannibal kneeled down, his head rested between the bars.

"If you'll allow it, I want to give you a kiss." He whispered to her.

Fear gripped her. He was a madman in a cage; she could hear Jack Crawford in her mind asking her if she was crazy to consider putting her lips on Hannibal the Cannibal. This was a clear test of trust. Clarice didn't want to think of what would happen if Hannibal turned savage.

That would be a really grotesque ending to their tale together, wouldn't it?

Her eyes darted to the officer and journalist. Her journalist might have been young and stupid, but he had some sort of charismatic power to keep the officer engaged.

"Clarice, this is our moment." Hannibal said to her. Her eyes snapped back to him.

She thought about how she would feel on the taxi ride home if she didn't kiss him. It was disappointing how much it would affect her. Hannibal, perhaps sensing his victory, shifted towards her.

She silently pushed past the blockades that told her not to cross. She stood in front of him. If he wanted he could grab her, but he made no movement. She stepped close to him, her heart pounding.

He closed his eyes as she leaned in, and kissed him. It was a lengthy kiss, simple, yet deep. She got the impression he was reveling in it as he breathed in deeply, as if he could grab the moment with all his senses. It was with much regret that he parted, and Clarice couldn't forget the sound their lips made when the kiss was over.

"How touching it is to share that which makes saying goodbye difficult." He whispered to her.

She was backing away from him, the kiss still clear in her mind.

"Say the word Clarice, and I promise you this won't be our last farewell." Hannibal said.

The police officer was starting to walk towards them, looking agitated.

"Goodbye Doctor." She said. She hesitated. "Until next time."

He smiled at her and waved as she was being led away.

She knew one day she would regret those words.


Authors Note: So…I feel like I got some 'splainin' to do. I really did want to keep writing chapters for this fic in a timely manner, but some of you have noticed it took a while.

Long story short, I fell off my motorcycle, scraped both my arms against the dirty pavement and suffered painful road-rash. Road-rash is more like a burn then the scrapes you suffered when falling off your bike, which I was ignorant of until I needed professional medical attention.

Anyway, I am back in the saddle. I did have a few more ideas of keeping them on the island, but truthfully I want to write about other things and with different plots. I hope the ending was too abrupt. I want to write other fan fiction for the Hannibal universe, but I have lots of impulses to make them off-the-wall strange plots. Getting lost on an island was one of my more tame experiments… Yes, I will write more Silence of the Lambs/Hannibal fan fictions.

I hate ending stories completely; I like to always keep some options open. As you can see…Hannibal has no intention of allowing Clarice to live a normal life without him.

So, In conclusion, thank you so much to all of you with your support. It's been a pleasure reading how much you enjoyed the concoctions of my odd fantasies.