The house is quiet in the pre-dawn hours, Emily is curled in her bed, unaware of the commotion that is building on her front lawn. By five, the phone has begun ringing incessantly, and she finally goes to the extent of disconnecting every phone in the house. Silence, blessed silence that lasts about five minutes. Then comes the doorbell and the knocks on the front door. Emily answers it the first time and not so kindly tells them to get the hell off her porch. Strangers wandering her property, trying to peer inside her private life to see if He was there. By seven she has locked all the doors and closed all the curtains. It is rather odd to turn on the TV and find your own home on the screen. All the news channels, each with their own reporters standing on her lawn, speculating on her relationship with Hannibal 'The Cannibal' Lecter.

"Dr. Lecter." she corrects as she grabs her cell phone from the charger. She is glaring at the TV as the person she is calling picks up.

"Sheriff's Office." comes his soft New England accent.

"Vergne, its Dr. Emily Christophersen."

"Oh, hey, Doctor. You're the talk of the town right now, what can I do for you?"

She is rolling her eyes and trying not to scream at him. She had never met a man that fit the popular image of the country hick better than Vergne. "Vergne, get up here and get all these people off my property before I decide to have them all arrested for trespassing."

She can hear him sitting upright in his chair and shifting. "Will do, Doctor. We'll be glad to, anything for the local celebrity."

And this is the reason why she hates men. "Thank you, Vergne." she manages to stay polite but hangs up before he can reply. If it's not one thing that irritates her its another.

*****

The news about Mrs. Grimes unfortunate demise takes front page two days later, fortunately dropping Emily from that position for at least a little while. Vergne and the other law enforcement officials are terming it a suicide. Emily knows better. Unfortunately, the local death is quickly overwhelmed with the next phone call she receives. As she hangs up the phone, the world begins to crumble at her feet.

*****

Emily didn’t know what had happened overnight, but was soon brought aware of it. She is sitting in the living room, her body and mind numb. The grief is overwhelming. She hears the doorbell ring again and again, she sits still, listening. Then a knock on the door, still she does not rise to answer it. She hears the glass break and she leaps to her feet. She sees a leather gloved hand dutifully undoing the deadbolt and snaking back through the broken glass. Anger flares in her, bringing her body to life. She snatches a leaded crystal vase and prepares to subdue her unwanted visitor. She is not in a mood to be trifled with. The door swings wide, and he steps in. She drops the vase, letting it shatter on the floor. She runs to him, ignoring the glass that cuts into her slippers. His eyes are dark and clouded, she can see the pain etched in his face. He deftly closes the door behind him, ignoring the pain that is in his hand. She reaches out to him, pale hand caressing his cheek. Feeling the tears that had dried stiff there. She buries her face against the cold of his coat, and he receives her. Together they stand, lost for time, in mourning of another's passing.

*****

The room is cold as Emily carefully tapes the heavy plastic in place of the window. The glass has been swept from the floor and disposed of, but she still trod gently. Her right foot is wrapped in medical tape, holding a gauze pad against the cut she received. Dropping the roll of electrical tape back in the toolcase, she carries it back to the kitchen. She is taking pains to be quiet, and she slips into the living room. The only sound is the crackling of the fire, and still its warmth does not touch her. Dr. Hannibal Lecter sits asleep, tucked into a corner of the couch. Emily removes a blanket from the chest under the window and brings it over to him. He does not stir as she nestles in beside him, draping the blanket over them and resting a hand against his chest. She wishes with all her heart that she could change what has happened but she cannot. Tears trickle from her eyes as she sits there, staring unseeing at the fire.

*****

Late afternoon in West Virginia. The sky has cleared for this one afternoon, as if God had wanted to look down on the somber ritual. Emily is standing at the graveside, looking on with disbelief. What didn't seem real two days ago is now unbearably so. From the corner of her eye she catches movement. Ardelia Mapp has tilted her head back to the sky, as if trying to see her once more. Emily feels the tears that she had so carefully guarded begin to slip. The priest speaks the last word and it seems to echo in the cemetery. Ardelia is the first to step forward, at the priest beckoning, and lay her flower on Clarice Starling's coffin. A yellow rose, the symbol of friendship. Ardelia stares at the casket for a long moment before turning back into the arms of the man who accompanied her. Emily watches as other colleagues from the FBI file forward and do the same. All bear roses, of yellow or white, placed on the white casket. Emily steps forward last, a bright Stargazer lily clutched in her hand. She chose the flower remembering Clarice had told her how beautiful she thought they were. That had been less than a month ago. She laid the lily atop the roses and pressed a hand to the casket, feeling the cold through the leather gloves she wore. A breeze blew at that moment, like Clarice saying goodbye.

She returned to the cemetery that night, and slipped in under the cover of darkness. She had played in cemeteries as a child and they did not frighten her. Her right hand was resting on Dr. Lecter's elbow as she guided him through the rows of headstones. Finally they came to the freshly turned earth that marked Clarice's grave. Emily released his arm and stood back, silent and watchful as he knelt at the grave. A sliver of moon shed its silver light on them and with that and the stars, was the only light. She heard the quiet tears as he placed the single red rose on the grave. One red rose amongst the white and yellow, one chance for true love amongst the friends. She laid a hand on his shoulder, letting him know that she was still there. His left hand came up to grasp it and she lowered herself to kneel beside him. Once again a breeze lifted and caressed their tear streaked faces. Lecter stood, laying a hand against the headstone in final farewell, and offered his elbow to Emily. Together, they left the cemetery with an angel watching over them.

*****