Return of the Lambs

The Opera

Surrounded by tourists much like herself, Starling felt far more at ease as she walked through the Old Town, her nightmare of Dr Lecter now a distant memory.

European history and architecture fascinated her and the summer breeze made the walk far more pleasant as the tour guide continued to tell them about the city.

As she fell back slightly to wait for an elderly lady who had stopped to rest for a moment, someone brushed by her.

Instantly, her blood began to race with electricity.

Only one touch had ever made her feel so alive.

The person had already vanished into the depths of Prague as the tour group moved on, leaving Starling standing alone.

-

'She's in the Old Town. Someone just brushed by her, but I couldn't get a visual. Yeah, I'll keep track of her. She'll draw him out eventually.'

-

After a quiet day of touring the Veletržní Palác, Starling couldn't help but shake her unease.

Inside the art gallery, she felt eyes watching her.

Crossing the Karlův Most (also known as the Charles Bridge according to her guide), towards the hotel, she was almost grateful when a young couple asked her to take a photograph because it gave her a moment to ask the same as she monitored her surroundings.

She entered the hotel lobby with a crowd of eager American tourists, keeping her head low and remaining silent as they swarmed towards the elevator.

"Ms Starling?" She turned to the receptionist, who held out a piece of paper.

"A gentleman dropped this off for you this afternoon."

It was a ticket to an upcoming opera, tonight.

There was no note, no signature, and yet she knew immediately who had left it, who had brushed past her so lightly in the Old Town.

Dr Lecter was in Prague.

She murmured thanks and headed up to her room, her mind racing with a million possibilities as she analysed each scenario.

Starling had many options - Lecter, after all, was still a wanted man and she was still FBI - an unarmed agent halfway across the world in the same city as a sociopathic cannibal with an obsession.

She had devoted her life to the bureau, her chance for a husband, children to it and it had tossed her out without a backwards glance and had Lecter not kidnapped her - saved her - and killed Krendler, she would never had made it back in.

No, she would not give them Dr Lecter.

Let them find him.

She opened the door, her hand grasping her car key in her pocket. No longer licensed to carry a gun, Starling relied on any weapon she could, particularly when it came to Hannibal Lecter.

Her heart hammered in her chest as she swept each room, searching for traces of the doctor. She eventually calmed herself enough to head into the bathroom, drawing herself a deep bath which rested at her chin.

The warm water relaxed her aching muscles and before long, she began to drift to sleep.

'Time to wake up, Clarice.'

She shot awake, still floating in the warm bathwater. Her watch read an hour later than when she had gone in, but the water was still just as warm, as though someone had drawn the water for her as she slept-