She closes the door on the outside world, and traces a finger down the window pane, since replaced. The house is warm with the smell of the fire and the enticing aroma overlaying from the kitchen. He has mourned and moved on, she has been the one standing watchful at the door. Not watchful enough, because they have found her. The wolves at the FBI. Calls on the cell phone from Ardelia, letting her know that she should leave. She glances in the direction of the kitchen, considering, weighing the fates. Could she possible turn her back and run, leaving him to the wolves? He comes through the front room and into the hallway, glass of wine extended in his hand. She receives the wine, but cannot look at him as he stands there. Could she allow herself to lose the one being that had truly come to understand her? A sip of the wine and the warmth of his hand on her shoulder makes the decision for her. She cannot.

*****

Emily hurtles down the basement steps, unheeding of the dangers that await below. She finds the light switch and throws it, illuminating the damp subterranean room. Quickly, where is it? Her father kept his knives and guns down here, locked away from her. Her aunt never bothered to get rid of them when she moved her brood into the house, and the boys never knew about them. If they had, the gun safe would have surely been pillaged and more deaths would have been felt in her aunt's family. Frantic, shoving the old boxes and chairs out of the way. Dust clogged her throat and she heard steps coming up behind her. She looks around, trying to remember the placement in the basement. Following her father down here when he was going to go hunt. There, in the far right corner, near the old clothes chest from great grandmother. She points, and Hannibal Lecter moves the chest out of the way. Standing tall is her father's gun safe, and she quickly turns the old combination lock on it. It creaks on old hinges as she pulls it open, looking past the ammunition on the top shelf she seizes what she needs and waves Lecter back upstairs. Pausing by the old wine rack, Emily chooses from her father's prized collection, knowing that he would approve of her selection. She ascends the stairs and closes the door behind her. Dr. Lecter is waiting in the dining room, standing at the far end of the table. Emily hands him the box she has taken from the gun safe and sits in a chair, trying to breathe again. The dust and mold has done no good for her allergies.

"You're sure they are in here, Emily?" asks Lecter, prying the lid open.

"Yes. I put them in there the night mother killed him." she nods, rising to help with the lid. She remembers cutting her finger on one of them when she dropped them into the box. Daddy's knives had glittered in the beam of her flashlight. It hadn’t kept Mommy from killing him though, but it might keep her and Dr. Lecter alive. The lid finally opens and Lecter lifts the neatly folded pillowcase away. Nested below are four knives. Emily couldn't resist the urge to reach in and touch them, once again slicing the right index finger. Like she had when she was six, she took the finger and stuck it in her mouth, sucking on the wound. Lecter had a tight little smile on his face.

"Well, at least they are still sharp." she remarks, looking at her finger.

He lifts one of the knives out, looking at in the light. It is a Harpy, much like his own. A small trace of blood mars the blade where Emily just cut herself. He wipes it carefully and hands it to her. "Take this one, Emily. I needn't warn you that the blade is sharp."

She nods and feels the knife in her hand. It is cold and the years weigh heavily on it. She looks at Lecter, feeling a little odd. He sees the look in her face and gently takes the knife from her hand, laying it on the table. It glints against the toile tablecloth. He carefully takes hold of her shoulders and he looks into her eyes.

"You don’t have to do this, Emily." he is only telling her what she already knows. She nods, listening. "You can run now, leave me here to face them on my own."

"You know I can’t do that." she shakes her head, deep regret etched in her face. "I owe it to Clarice to get you out of here." more than that, she tells herself, I owe it to me, to him. But what does that make of me, to loose a monster on the world to roam free once again? The breath is stilled on her lips as she ponders this. He sees her pause, and allows her the reflection. For the first time she can see herself in herself. "Dammit, Doctor." she growls when she breathes again. He releases her shoulders and presses the Harpy back into her hands.

"Go, Emily."

She looks into the maroon eyes before stepping away from him. Her footfalls echo down the hall and he hears the door open, then shut again. He wonders for a moment why she has listened to him. The knock comes sharply on the door and he hears it open again, accompanied by her voice. He listens, still and quiet in the dining room. She has not listened to him, and he is relieved. Carefully, he removes his shoes and moves towards the kitchen and the entrance from there into the front room. His own Harpy is in his hands as he moves behind the piano.

*****

"Dr. Christophersen, you're okay and all?" asks the overfed Sheriff. He has two deputies in tow, both looking about nervously as they stand on the porch.

"Yes. Thank you for coming Vergne. He's knocked out upstairs, I think I got him good with the vase." she is speaking to him as a friend, her voice shaky as if she were truly frightened.

"Well, you did good by calling us. Just stay down here while we go and collect him, okay?" in his mind's eye Lecter can see Emily nodding acquiescence. "I don't want you to get hurt anymore than you already are."

Hurt? Lecter's nostrils flare. What did Emily tell them on the phone? He moves closer to the hall entrance, careful to stay out of sight. Vergne is turning, weight heavy on the floorboards as he moves to the stairs.

"Come on boys." he calls to his deputies who are still on the porch. They step in nervously nodding at Emily. They aren’t used to dealing with the capture of known serial killers. One of them catches movement out of the corner of his eye and stops, looking into the front room. A faint reflection in the black piano.

"Hey Vergne, there's someone else in here." he calls as he decides to move into the front room. The other deputy and Sheriff Vergne decide to follow, causing Vergne to come back down the stairs. The first deputy is just drawing his gun when Lecter's arm flashes out and slits his throat. The second is too surprised to do anything and is quickly taken down as Lecter comes into the hall. Vergne has hit the bottom of the stairs and he pushes Emily backwards as he draws his sidearm. He has a shot off as the second deputy falls to the ground. Dr. Lecter feels the bullet graze his shoulder and he drops slightly. Emily grips her Harpy and lunges forward as Vergne takes aim for a second shot.

"Sorry, Vergne." she whispers as the knife comes across Vergne's throat. She releases him and drops clumsily to the floor, Vergne's weight falls atop her leg. She looks up as she pushes him off to see a feral smile on Lecter's face. A cut on her face is trickling blood down her cheek.

"That's my girl."

*****