I couldn't resist this. I currently am loving the new Hannibal series and none of these characters belong to me. The only thing that does is the nigh on unbelievable plot. Some characters are slightly OOC, but I tried as hard as I could. I am also addicted to Downton Abbey and recently re-watched The Other Boelyn Girl so there is a definite aristo undertone. None of these characters belong to me. I love reviews.

The silver of the tea set glittered in the morning light. She settled down on the balcony, the freshly ironed newspaper set beside the rye bread she ate of a morning. Unlike the other women in the circle she frequented she much preferred to read the newspapers rather than the magazines her friends were fond of. She took up the paper, fresh and firm, in her hands. She scanned the front page and her interest was immediately piqued by the title; Serial Killer Dubbed Minnesota Shrike. She turned to page 2 and began reading, the massive broadsheet blocking out the weak sun.

She placed the newspaper down and steepled her fingers, taking her luke-warm cup between her hands. It often struck her as strange when something from her past came to her. In this case a familiar name that stirred unusual feelings in her. She stared out into the lands on which their family estate was built. She ran her fingers over the headline again and took a sip of her tea. Hannibal. Hannibal Lecter.

"Morticia? You are awake early."

"Yes," she turned in her chair to look at her husband, "Good morning darling."

"Good morning, cara mia," he took his place beside her and fearing the awkward interaction that this shadow from the past would create, she chose not to ruin his morning. No matter how distant, now unreal it seemed now; it would always be a reality for him.

He took up the newspaper, and even with his interest in the macabre he chose to bypass the story and turned directly to the business section of the Sunday paper. She smiled lightly. Gomez had a delicate stomach for things that seemed lacking in any repentance at all. And she had learned that all those years ago.

"We are still dining with Mr Selzinski tonight?" Gomez said this more as a reminder, than a question, from behind the newspaper.

She smiled lightly at the unusual expectation placed upon her. It was unusual that she was asked to play the entertaining wife, though when it was required of her she did it with little complaint.

"Where are we going Gomez?" She drew her eyes away from that headline again to look at his eyes that had appeared over the top of the paper.

"The Bistro," he smiled, "I had my secretary book it. And if they are terrible company then you and I can dance."

She laughed lowly, as was her limit, and reached out to take his hand in hers.

"Are you alright?" He folded the paper in to his lap and squeezed her hand.

"Of course," she smiled lightly, "As you said, it is early."

The conversation flowed in fits and starts throughout the dinner and Gomez resorted to the tongue loosening Bollinger to attempt to close up the deal, and the evening. Both the Addamses, with the inherent breeding that befell them both, measured their intake; their guests did not.

"But of course," Selzinski slurred lightly, "This country is such a place of danger. What about your latest serial killer? The man with the deers?"

Gomez looked perplexed and Morticia smiled, "I read about it this morning."

"The oddest thing," Mr Selzinski's wife interjected, her wine glass hangin loosely from her drunk fingers, "The pyshcoligist is a man I know of, a Dr Hannibal Lecter."

"He helped my wife when-"

"Arnold!" The wife interrupted hastily.

They would have found this exchange a little entertaining, and would have found it smugly reassuring, if it hadn't been for the unexpected spectre of a life before them. Gomez's brow furrowed and her stomach, though she had nothing to hide, churned lightly. He looked at her and she read both everything and nothing in his eyes. She knew he had not missed the name and yet in a beat he recovered.

"What an unusual name," he answered and motioning the waiter over, ordered a scotch.