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Clarice stirred slightly on the wide bed. The covers rustled lightly as her body adjusted itself attempting to find a comfortable position. She rolled as far as the handcuffs would allow, but rested on her damaged shoulder. The sharp stab of pain jolted Clarice out of her peaceful dreamland and into the home of a serial killer.

Dr. Lecter crossed his legs when he saw Clarice beginning to stir. She had been asleep longer than expected. The light on dawn was creeping through the open windows. He watched her eyes move behind closed lids, then open squinting against the bright sun. Peacefully she stretched, but then felt the hand cuffs on her arms. She sat bolt upright, but the handcuffs stopped her. Lecter calmly pushed her back down on the bed and regained his seat.

"Do you feel better, Clarice?"

"Quid pro quo, doctor. Why am I here?"

"Because you had to be sedated after the scene at the opera. Now please answer my question."

"My shoulder hurts like some stabbed me with a red-hot poker. How did it get hurt?"

"When I injected you; you choose to thrash about and the needle broke of into your shoulder. If I untie you will you run? Do not lie to me Clarice."

"Yes, but you already knew that. Are you going to kill me?"

"You have lived with me for almost five years, if I was going to kill you I would have already. Do you not think so?"

"Perhaps you wished to keep me fresh. Or did you hope to play with your food for a while, doctor?" Clarice snapped spitefully.

"A freezer would have worked nearly as well as keeping you alive so long. As for playing with you, perhaps that was my intention, but not the way you mean. Now, Clarice, how long have you been aware of who I am."

"Since yesterday, I heard a noise and suddenly remembered who I was and who you were. You still did not answer my first question. Why am I in Argentina with you?"

Dr. Lecter watched her hoping that she remembered at least something of their relationship, but her eyes were questioning his with wary blankness. "You chose to come with me. After the dinner party with Mr. Krendler you and I had a lovely...discussion and you chose to come."

"You drugged me. I didn't choose to come with you willingly, you..." Clarice barley managed to keep her voice below a scream. Lecter placed his hand over her mouth silencing her, his eyes blazing with rage. Clarice tried to wiggle as far away from him as possible, but the handcuffs held her in place.

"Clarice, you will keep your voice at a conversation level. Yes, I drugged you, but all the drug did was strip away all the years of other peoples' influence and cause you to act the way you wanted to."

"Yes, of course. Sleeping with a cannibal has always been a fantasy of mine. It ranks right up there with eating Krendler's brain."

"You are glad he is dead after the way he treated you."

Clarice opened her mouth to protest, but found under Lecter's scathing gaze she could not bring herself to lie. "Are you going to let my hands free? These handcuffs are rather uncomfortable."

"If I let you go you will attempt to leave? Then I would have to search for you. It would be inconvenient for me to miss work, and it would be rude of you to leave so quickly. You can stay here a while and think about the past. Try to remember some things. I'll see you in a little while."

"Where are you going?"

"To work, my patients need my caring help to get over their emotional tribulations."

"Your patients or your meals?"

"Tread carefully, Clarice, you too have eaten of human flesh, and if my memory serves me correctly you rather enjoyed it." Lecter paused to look at Claire's confused face.

Clarice turned a ghastly shade of gray. Lecter took a long sip of her anguish; it had been a long time since he had been able to enjoy her pain. With regret he chose not to continue the fun. "Ta Ta, Clarice. I shall be home around six. Perhaps in my absence you should try to read a little." Lecter picked a small leather-bound volume off the bookshelf and weighed it carefully in his hands. With relish he carried it over to the bed and placed it in Clarice's hands.

"Dr. Lecter I can't read Italian."

"Yes, you can. If you try, Clarice. You must simply search the halls of your memory palace to remember how. Good-bye." Lecter exited the room leaving a disgruntled Clarice in his wake.

Clarice turned the volume in her hands, which she had to stretch to their limits to be able to see the book. The title meant little to her, but the name rang a bell, Niccolo Machiavelli, obviously it was Italian, but the language of the book had already told her that. Why would Lecter give me a book by an Italian author to read? What is a memory palace? Where would I find the memory palace? Clarice felt her body slipping into a comfortable place.

Clarice's memory palace was not the cold marble and granite of Lecter's. Hers was not so much a building as a small ranch area. Blades of grass crinkled under her feet. Hannah grazed nearby. Hesitantly Clarice walked towards the horse. Hannah galloped over to her, nuzzling her hair. Clarice laughed as she patted the horse's mane. Reluctantly Clarice left the pasture and headed towards the large rambling house and the barn that was connected to it.

Clarice tried the barn first. She pushed the heavy doors inside and slipped into the barn. Little of interest was there except a large mule with Krendler's face. Clarice looked at the papers around the mule and found little more than memories of old exploits with the FBI. Before she left the barn she slapped Krendler's face, hard. He brayed loudly, "You're to old to be fu..." Clarice silenced him by driving a pitchfork down his throat. She smiled in the silence. She left the barn when the dripping of blood ceased.

Ten miles away Lecter smiled as he watched Clarice in their shared room. Silently he applauded Clarice's reaction to Krendler and the FBI mementoes. Perhaps she will choose to stay willingly after all, but not yet the fight has barely begun. It would be a shame to see it end so soon.

Clarice entered the house and turned to the left, as luck would have it the first door on the left lead to the library. She walked inside and sat in the plush chair by the fireplace. Hannibal...Dr. Lecter has been in here. She caught a faint hint of cologne in the still air. A quick search of the bookshelf yielded the book she had subconsciously known was there. A brief glance and her use of Italian came back to her. She looked at a few other books stored in the section Spanish, French, and Latin. Cursory glances unlocked the suppressed knowledge.

Exiting the library of the "palace" returned her to the hallway. Moving as gracefully as a lioness on the hunt she opened the next door. Jack Crawford sat at the desk. He was hunched over and gray as Clarice remembered him in his final years. She said nothing and moved onto more important memories. Other doors revealed her childhood, but try as she might no escape plans, other identities of Lecter, or any memories of the last years could be found. A knock she knew came from the outside snapped her out of her palace and back into the room.

Clarice forced her eyes open. Why is the sun still rising? No that's right; it's setting. How long had I been in there? Lecter should be back by now if the sun hasn't altered its path in the last five years.

"Hello, Clarice." A familiar voice whispered into her ear. "I trust you found some answers while I was gone. Perhaps you could explain your treatment of Krendler to me. After all he did as all asses do, bray rather rudely."

"How did you know about that? You can read minds?"

"No. That incident occurred in one of our shared rooms. We, of course, share some other rooms as well."

"The library. You were in there before me."

"Yes," Lecter looked delighted that Clarice had caught him, "however, my library is larger than yours is. You still need to add books. Tomorrow you start with that one." He nodded towards the book in her hands.

If I'm still here tomorrow. A glance at the book and she read the title. The Prince. Why would I read this book?

"Don't worry Clarice. You will have plenty of time to read that book and many more."

"Do you plan on keeping me tied down forever, Dr. Lecter? Or just until the freezer runs low." Clarice knew she was playing with fire and was starting to get burned.

"Clarice, Clarice in Baltimore you didn't used to be so rude. You were simply a well-dressed hustling little rube, but now you insist on insulting me."

"Angry I'm taking your job, Doctor?"

"No, I am just wondering when you will see fit to listen to reason and stop attempting to bait me. Or do you wish to die Clarice? Would that be a better fate than staying here with me?" Lecter pulled out his Harpy and held it to Clarice's neck. Quickly he moved it across her neck and spilt the pale skin. A thin line of blood ran down her throat. "Answer, Clarice, and do not lie." He moved the Harpy over her jugular and waited for her answer.

Cliffhanger! An apology in advance updates will come slower after this be patient, the story has barely begun and future chapters promise to be longer.

Complaints, comments, world domination plots, cheerful songs, or reviews to leave? Click the little box at the bottom. Any feedback is welcome and might encourage the story to be written in a more timely fashion. Ta Ta for now.

Alan