Clarice is thinking.

Hannibal gave her two days without mentioning anything about his love for her or about going to Argentina. He had not initially intended to tell her either of those things in the bath like that. But it had been the right time for it. Clarice had confessed to him what had been bothering her, his too-controlled manner in their sex life. He had rectified the problem immediately, and they had enjoyed the newfound closeness in the subsequent days. It was certainly an error for him to take so long to realize what she really wanted. What they both really wanted.

But they were both at rest now. There was some time before Clarice would dress for dinner and Hannibal would prepare the meal. He had some beef cheek braising currently, but there was plenty to do for the vegetables and potatoes that he would serve with it. Until then, he sat in his usual chair sketching her. She sat reading in her chair, but it was plain to see that she was not reading at all. Her eyes had not moved over the page in some time. Hannibal knew because he was drawing her face, focusing on her eyes.

She shifted, rolling her shoulders to stretch them. The edge of the bandage over the bite wound of her neck was visible. It was healing enough to be uncovered after today, he knew. And he'd need to consider where else he might like to leave the marks from his teeth on her.

Her movement changed her position sufficiently to eliminate the precise angle Hannibal was trying to draw. He could do it from memory rather easily, but one of the biggest benefits of having his model in front of him was not needing to use memory. He'd put this drawing aside and do another later.

When he saw that she still wasn't reading, he decided it was time to prompt her for some of her thoughts. She'd been thinking about it for two days. That was enough time for her to ruminate. They needed to make decisions now.

"You have not turned that page in quite some time," he said softly.

She looked up, her lips frowning and her eyes narrowing at him. She was wary of what he might want of her, he knew. But Hannibal knew to be patient. And he would be. He would only prompt her when she faltered.

"Will you tell me what thoughts have distracted you so?"

"Argentina. Going with you and leaving the U.S. and everything else behind," she said.

He knew that much already. "What stops you from saying yes?" Best to get right to the heart of it, he thought.

She considered for a moment. "A lot of things," she said honestly. "I never really thought about ever living anywhere outside the country. And I don't know what I'd do in Argentina."

"You would do precisely what you do here now. But you will also be able to meet people and make friends. I have lived in isolation a long time, and I am not very sociable unless it is necessary, but I do not expect to be the only person in your life, Clarice. We shall have the means for you to live whatever life you choose," he told her.

"As another person."

"Your name will be different, as will the facts of your past, your birthdate and place and such. It would be prudent for you to change your appearance. But you will otherwise be yourself. As much as you would like." Hannibal hoped that his responses were helpful to her. Clarice liked to have information, to be able to see her way forward when armed with the relevant facts in front of her. Too much unknown would make her tense. It already had.

She let out a small. "Yeah, alright."

Despite the immense strides Clarice had made in their months together, Hannibal still knew of her difficulty with letting go of things. He surmised that she was using her discomfort with an unknown future to mask her greater reluctance to leave the past behind. "The FBI will not take you back," he said bluntly.

It was the truth. She had been missing alongside Hannibal Lecter for months. Most of the Bureau likely thought her dead by now. The cynical among them would assume she had been cooked and eaten like his other victims. And those who did think she might be alive would believe her to be kept captive by him or else brainwashed into wanting to stay. Only Clarice herself would ever know the truth. That fact gave Hannibal no trouble. But it did give her trouble, he knew.

There was something more, though, something else about her life that Hannibal knew she was reluctant to truly put behind her. It was one thing, here in this place outside of time when the reality of the outside world did not bother her. It was quite another to contemplate actually starting a real life together elsewhere. "I cannot allow you to see Ardelia before we leave, but you should say goodbye to her. If you do decide to come with me," he said gently.

The expression on her face was as if he had struck her. He had hit the nerve exactly with that, he knew.

Hannibal did not say anything else. He could practically see the thoughts spinning in Clarice's head. He would give her time to grab onto one.

At last, she found the words. "I guess she was the one bright spot of the FBI for me. I've let go of my fixation on the work, all that it meant to me. Jack Crawford is dead. John Brigham is dead. No one else there ever really gave a shit about me or gave me any reason to give a shit about them. Just Ardelia. I don't think I really thought about what it would be like to never see her again."

He opened his mouth to tell her how dangerous it would be, at this juncture, to get anywhere near Ardelia Mapp.

But Clarice knew better. She did not let him speak. She said, "I know I can't go see her. I wouldn't trust that I could keep away like I'd need to. I won't put either of us in danger." She ran a hand through her hair as she often did when she was agitated. "But everything else I let go of, it was all stuff keeping me down. All stuff I was trying to overcome pushed me forward, and I thought I was honoring all the good stuff while proving the bad stuff wrong. Ardelia wasn't like that though. She loved me when no one else did. She supported me and gave me a home. In a place and in a person."

Hannibal nodded. "She was a good friend to you. A true friend. But she did not truly know you, Clarice."

A look of indignation colored her features. "She…" Her face fell. "No, she didn't," Clarice admitted. "She saw in me what she wanted to see. She was like Crawford, I guess. Seeing the potential and all. What they wanted to see. She didn't ever know what it was really like for me. How isolated I was. Probably because I didn't really understand it all myself.

"Precisely," he agreed softly.

"I guess it's time for me to carry forward my memories and leave Ardelia as the one bright spot of my time in the FBI. I can let go."

Hannibal's heart swelled with pride over how much his Starling had grown, how she had blossomed and spread her wings and become so magnificent.

"But that still leaves us with the other issue."

His triumph stuttered. "Which is?"

"Mischa."

It was Hannibal's turn to frown and narrow his eyes now. "What about Mischa?"

"Am I still the best place for her, once you solve entropy?" She was goading him. She had that taunting edge to her voice. Hannibal would need to tread carefully.

"My plans regarding Mischa have not changed," he said, somewhat evasively. It was the truth. Wasn't it? Hannibal had not given a single thought to Mischa in many days. He had been fixated on Clarice. Teaching her and being with her and loving her. He had not forgotten about his sister. He never, ever would. But reversing entropy and bringing Mischa back into the world was not as powerful a motivator in this exact moment as it had been for so very long for him.

Clarice would not let him skirt the issue, however. She shifted in her chair and crossed her legs. "I've been thinking about that. About how if I go with you and we have a life together, I'm still just a vessel to you. I'm just a means to an end, once you figure out a solution to your problem. But I think you've got it wrong."

She surprised him. Once again. And always, it seemed. Clarice surprised him. "In what way am I wrong?" he asked, simultaneously bristling at being told he was wrong and yet fascinated by what she might say.

"Entropy is only a problem when your goal is control and order," she explained.

An interesting thought. He would play along. "Should that not be our goal, Clarice? You of all people should understand the displeasure of chaos."

Clarice shook her head. "Chaos isn't something to like or dislike. It's not something to cause pleasure or displeasure. And eliminating displeasure limits joy. You know, too, Doctor, that goodness exists because there is evil to counterbalance it. The increasing disorder of the universe is not something to counteract. It is counteraction itself."

Clearly she had given it a lot of thought. She had never studied string theory and yet she was providing strong counterarguments to everything that Hannibal had fixated on for so long. Her mind was still such a fascinating place. A gift, really. A true pleasure and honor for him to get to understand even a little bit of her. Though perhaps he would never understand her completely. An interesting prospect. "So you would argue that chaos is a necessity, in other words."

"More than that. Entropy is a celebration."

How intriguing. "How so?"

A small smirk appeared on her lips as she came to her final point. "Entropy is proof of change and evolution in all things. Reversing it might bring back what has been lost. But you have shown me that some things are best left in the past. And we all have to let go of the past. And even if reversing entropy didn't bring back what was lost, it would certainly stop that necessary change and evolution. It would instead leave stagnation. And stagnation is boredom, is it not?"

"Ah. A very good point, Clarice."

Clarice had finished her argument, so she just smiled softly. In a minute, she would get up to dress for dinner and Hannibal would see to dinner. But for now, he just gazed upon her. That brilliant mind of hers. That beautiful face. She would be the perfect vessel for Mischa. But for Mischa to live, Clarice could not. They could not exist together. And Hannibal would not want them to.

The problem now, though, was that he loved them both. And Mischa was his past. And Clarice was his future.