The faint light of dawn was edging in around the curtain when Clarice drifted into wakefulness. She lay sprawled on her stomach across half the bed, her face turned toward the window. She blinked and sleepily rolled away from the light.

The motion brought her to Hannibal's side, his arm ready and waiting to pull her in close. She tucked her head against his shoulder; her fingers absently stroked his abdomen as it rippled with his breathing.

"You're still up?"

"Hardly that, Clarice. A man does have his limits, after all."

Her nails scratched him, lightly, scolding; she mentally scoffed at the notion of limits. Her "hands-on" inspection had gone an additional three rounds before she was down for the count, pleading exhaustion. His smug smirk had followed her into her dreams.

"Awake, then."

He hummed in affirmation and then added, more tellingly, "I wanted to watch you sleep. The night has gone better than I might have hoped, Clarice. Is it any wonder I was loathe to let it end?"

"These … hopes … of yours," she began, her fingers tracing stray shapes on his skin. "You've had them for a while?"

"You intrigued me from our first meeting, Clarice, but you know that already."

Her fingers paused in their movement as she waited to hear what else he might say. His hand stroked reassuringly over her back.

"I didn't imagine that you might be … receptive … to the notion until the night you came to me smelling of rain and blood. Couldn't wait for morning, could you? You were quite driven. You sat on the floor, right up against the Plexiglas as though we were old friends having a chat. Why is that, do you suppose? No, you needn't answer now; it's merely something to think on. You courteously accepted the towel I offered and made use of it. You knew the rules regarding distance and the passing of materials through the tray, Clarice, yet you ignored both. You, a servant of order, eagerly disregarded the rules because it pleased you to do so. With me. I may have been … encouraged … by such behavior, hmm?"

He was right; that was something she'd need to think on. Had she been his even then?

"All these years … you've been waiting for me?"

"You were young when we met, Clarice. Experience has taught you lessons in the intervening years that I could not have duplicated. You would have wondered, then, if you had made the correct choice. The reassurances of others never run as deep as one's own experience." He exhaled softly and watched her intently, seeming to measure something in her face before continuing. "And I was not fit company myself, then. I had been living primarily through memories for eight years, Clarice. There was … a period of readjustment. Time was necessary for us both."

Silence settled around them as she considered his words, tested their weight in her mind, and nudged her thoughts into a new alignment. A question emerged, a disquieting concern that wouldn't be shushed.

"But the risk … if things had gone differently for me at the FBI, or if I hadn't been strong enough to admit – to accept – this thing between us … what if I had never…."

She raised her head from his shoulder, and the smile he gave her was so bittersweet she ached to see it on his face. He nodded slightly, in recognition of her understanding, perhaps.

"It was a calculated risk, Clarice. The strength was always there within you; it was merely a question of which truth you wanted more."

She tugged on his hand, and he gave it willingly. She laid it alongside her left breast and pressed until his palm flattened out against her skin.

"My truth is here." She let go of his hand; he remained motionless. Her own hand settled on his chest, just left of his breastbone. She pressed down, comforted by the steady thumping beneath her palm. "And here."

Author's note: If you've made it this far, thanks for sticking with me through my first posted fic. I hope it was an enjoyable read. I'd love to know what you liked or didn't like. I try to respond to every review, so if I've missed you, I do apologize. If you haven't reviewed, no hard feelings; I don't review every story I read either, and I'd hardly hold you to a higher standard than I hold myself. - BG