A/N: I do not own these characters.

Chapter 1: Homecoming

The feeling of living a nightmare is one I am experienced in. Understanding completely that I am dreaming yet being unable, or unwilling, to pull myself away from this which tears at my heart. Forcing me to look upon my personal horror. Dreams. The only place I see my him, and the only place I would want to. I see myself in a lavish hotel room shower. Grey tile and white appliances, the walls of the shower glass. The waterfall faucet pours water onto my naked fame and I see the scar on my face from Buffalo Bill drown in the water. If only water washed away everything. The door opens and I can tell my dream self hears him enter by the smirk that appears on my...her face.

Hannibal Lecter, graceful as ever, removes his robe and opens the glass door. He takes me in his arms and I willingly come to him. I have always willingly come to him. I woke then, the light filtering through the window finally too strong for even my deep slumber to ignore. The room is not a hotel room, and Hannibal was gone. I hear the blender turn on in the kitchen and know that Stephanie is awake. Time to go be ordinary, I tell myself slipping on my robe. As I perform this action, I remember the sight of Hannibal's graceful fingers undoing this same robe. Sliding off of my shoulders and-

"Clarice! Let's go!" Stephanie hollered. We had a long day of house hunting ahead of us, and if there was one thing that excited my high school friend turned realitor, it was house hunting. I make my way out the door and to the kitchen where the blonde who looked like she should be bubbly handed me a smoothie. It was green.

"What are you forcing me to drink?" I inquired.

Stephanie wasn't phased, "Its spinach, a bit of fruit, and water. I can add a bit of splenda to it, but why when it's so good by itself?"

Ignoring the bait and reminding myself of her hospitality to a friend she hadn't seen in more than five years, I chose to change the subject.

"Where did you put the folders? The ones with the house listings?"

Stephanie, never breaking from drinking her smoothie through the large pink straw, pointed towards the table. I walked over and noticed my reflection in the mirror as I picked up the seven folders my friend had arranged. My eyes were bloodshot and slightly sunken, visible proof of my restless sleep. I sighed and opened the folders, laying each page across the table to better view them. For me, seeing the one page summaries of the homes side by side helped. The prices were at the top of the pages with the main picture of the house underneath.

The prices were well within the comfort zone for me. I had accepted the sheriff position in town and had savings from my time with the Bureau. The houses were small, but I was only one person. Most had yards large enough for me to get a dog and I was happy about that. I could use a companion. My eyes stopped on the last page. The house looked to be more of a miniature Victorian mansion than a home for a single woman, and that price point.

"Steph? This one here has the wrong price on it." I handed the much shorter woman the page as she sneered.

"No, it doesn't. Do you think I don't know my own listings? This one is only priced so low because of the former owner."

I raised an eyebrow, "Who owned this house that it is one hundred thousand under market value?"

Stephanie's agitated demeanor shifted as she moved her weight from one foot to the other. "Dr. Velasquez."

"Stephanie. Clair. Marshall. Are you trying to sell me, Mrs. Death, the home of Dr. Dread? The only known serial killer to ever live and work in Bath, West Virginia? The press would have an absolute field day!"

Dr. Velasquez had been my own pediatrician. The only one in the small town of 600 people and well known to be a pillar of the community. That was, until seven bodies had been found buried in his back yard with the help of a friendly neighborhood dog. It seemed that doctors in her life were destined to have alternate hobbies.

"Clarice." Stephanie broke me out of my thoughts, "You of all people I thought would see the value in this house. It sits on five acres of land, in ground pool, five rooms, two and a half bath-". I didn't interrupt her speech, as that would have been rude, but I did allow myself to wonder. Could I see the value in this home? It was beautiful, there was no doubt. The doctor had similar tastes my own. Vintage lines with the modern accessories found in homes built today.

The prices were well within the comfort zone for me. I had accepted the sheriff position in town and had savings from my time with the Bureau. The houses were small, but I was only one person. Most had yards large enough for me to get a dog and I was happy about that. I could use a companion. My eyes stopped on the last page. The house looked to be more of a miniature Victorians mansion than a home for a single woman, and that price point.

Stephanie was looking up at me, an odd gleam in her eyes. "I guess I can at least look at it."

My friend's smile was one I couldn't decide upon. It either scared me or made me comfortable. A feeling that should have been foreign, but was not.