Rome

Nicholas experienced some minor difficulties, but managed to pull a string or two to get them into Paoli. Starling was dressed wonderfully; having found before packing for the trip that the only nice dress she had was the one Dr. Lecter adorned her in during those hours she was under his captivity. Not being one to toss money aside, the conservative sense in Starling took control and she packed it as her evening dress.

At the revealing cut, Nicholas arched both brows. He didn't ask where she got it, nor did she offer to tell him. If he knew it was one of the gifts from Dr. Lecter, the hurt and shock he would feel would devastate him.

Ever, wearing the dress for the first time in four years, loving the way it still fit perfectly, Starling felt a shudder of pleasure, knowing it was something he would enjoy seeing her in. That only elevated her excitement, and she couldn't wait for a chance to be seen in public.

Upon the first evening of their arrival, Nicholas had asked around and discovered that Paoli was a very highly recommended restaurant. Now, they were there, having managed to wiggle in without reservation. The interior alone was breathtaking; the site of couples dancing on the floor giving Starling the impulse to join them. She felt giddy, and she was NEVER giddy.

{I never want to leave; I never ever want to leave!}

Starling was seriously considering how she might talk Nicholas into leaving without her.

After being seated, the waiter, who spoke in both fluent Italian and English, informed them of the wine list and said he would return in a minute for their selection.

In the time of his absence, Starling leaned forward, feeling compelled to display her thanks for him bringing her here, a place that met and surpassed all her wildest expectations. With a coy smile, she planted a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you," she said.

"For what?" He knew what she was thanking him for; he just wanted to hear her say it.

"For bringing me here. To Florence, to this restaurant. Nick, you are too much."

To that, he smiled but had no reply.

Starling sighed happily and resumed studying the menu. Things were perfect.

* * *

For the longest moment, all Dr. Lecter could do was watch.

At first he thought it impossible, the very idea that they could be here at the same time, in the same restaurant, too incredibly bizarre. But her scent was unmistakable, one no specialist alive could replicate. After a minute, his eyes informed him that his nose had not betrayed him. Starling, his Starling, was indeed here.

Not only was she here, she was with another man.

Dr. Lecter's gazed darkened, but overall, his face remained unchanged. For a minute, he forgot that he, too, was accompanied with a young woman, someone that could just as easily provoke jealousy from anyone in this room. But not her. Not her with her young companion. The thought was maddening, and though he remained in perfect control, he found it was much more difficult than he had ever imagined.

Now, the question was, did he ignore this pleasant though unfortunate discovery, or did he reacquaint himself with the lovely former FBI agent? Had she been alone, the decision would've been quite easy, regardless of the presence of another woman at his side. But the rules were drawn now, without even having faced each other, they were drawn. All in all, Dr. Lecter knew he would have to pay his respects sooner or later, but when she was alone. The man with her was difficult to look at, and he found he was gripping his dinner knife a tad too tightly.

Esamarla noticed his tension, but couldn't get him to confide his sudden discomfort. She tried to follow his gaze but was unsuccessful. Her persistence almost annoyed him to the brink of wanting to lunge the knife into her instead of Starling's companion.

After a minute, he returned to himself and smiled pleasantly.

"Charles?" she asked, her eyes wide with concern. "Are you all right?"

"Perfectly," he replied with a quick smile. "I thought I saw an old friend."

"You looked like you wanted to kill someone."

Dr. Lecter's brows perked and he fought off a smile. "Yes. It wasn't a good old friend. We left on somewhat rough waters. I was hoping for reconciliation, but my eyes aren't what they used to be. Now please, don't let it ruin our evening."


The night was only beginning. Dr. Lecter smiled now, keeping an eye but not intently staring at the couple across the room. For now, he would enjoy himself. After all, this was an incredible place. There was plenty of time to deal with them later. And deal with them he would. Before Starling left this place, she would be perfectly aware of everything. He would see to that.

* * *

The evening was a tremendous success. Several hours spent dining, drinking, and dancing. It was everything she needed right then, everything she could ever need. Being away from the United States and in this scenic dreamland was surreal, and she never wanted it to end. For the third or fourth time that night, she contemplated on how she should break the news to Nicholas; that he would indeed be returning to New York alone.

The more she thought about it, the more real it seemed. No longer was it a simple mind joke that she was teasing herself with. It was a serious consideration, one she could see herself feasibly doing. There was nothing back in the States for her, nothing but Nicholas, of course.

At that thought, she chuckled. If Nicholas was the only thing keeping her home, then he was in for some heavy-duty competition. Looking at him tonight, she read the gaze in his eyes that informed her that he was at least partly aware of these thoughts. This surprised her, for she didn't imagine herself so easily read.

When he offered his hand for a dance, Starling found she had no choice but to oblige. She owed him some compensation for the evening. Standing from the table, she let him lead her to the dance floor and smiled as they glided in perfect unison, their rhythm perfectly with the music. They had never before danced together and she could tell he was as pleased with her reaction to him as she was of his.

After a few dances, Nicholas excused himself to tend to a call of nature. Starling remained on the dance floor, taking in the wonderful atmosphere. Truly this was a magical place, some fabled land she could before only read about. Thank God she knew Nicholas! Thank God he thought to bring her here! Now, if she could only figure out how to get rid of him.

A hand very softly brushed against her bare arm, just enough to make her shiver. What was this? She had never known Nicholas to touch like that, and she was appalled to find herself wanting to respond to it. It was a minor touch, but warm and welcoming. Also hidden and mysterious, something she knew but didn't know. It reeked in familiarity.

As she turned to meet this touch, she knew why it was familiar, all too well. Her heart stopped as her eyes met that notorious gaze, that gaze she had seen in countless dreams over the course of the past four years. That gaze, that gaze.

Whatever the gaze was, it was drown out with the sound of his voice. "Good evening, Clarice," Dr. Lecter said, his eyes boring into her's.

There was nothing in her throat, no voice to respond with. She wanted to pounce him then, the side of her that had cried out in want and need and regret for all the wrongs committed taking over at first. However, Miss Practical Sensible overruled that voice, and the invisible blockade of what was and wasn't allowed slammed in front of her.

In a minute, she found her voice. "Dr. Lecter…" she said, it coming out was a whisper when she wanted to sound brave.

For a minute, there was nothing else. Dr. Lecter's eyes implored her's hungrily before lowering to gaze over the rest of her. At her attire, his face brightened considerably. "I must say I am a tad surprised, Clarice. I never would have thought you would keep the dress, albeit I am not disappointed. Lovely, taste, I must say."

Starling felt her face flush and cursed herself for not having more control over the situation. Savoring her response, Dr. Lecter's grin broadened. This was quite unexpected, finding her like this, self-conscious and shy. Starling was not the shy type. There was something on her mind. Perhaps things weren't all for a lost cause after all.

"Dr. Lecter," she said, her voice returning to her. "I—"

"Charles?" Starling blinked as this foreign object came into view, and though she recognized the name addressed as nothing relating to Hannibal Lecter that she knew of, the owner of the voice was approaching. She was a young looking woman, strikingly beautiful, and as Italian as they came. Starling felt her heart stop promptly as the woman took Dr. Lecter's arm and looked at her inquisitively. "Charles, who is this?"

"Ah," Dr. Lecter replied, his eyes dancing at her undoubtedly noted reaction. "Clarice, allow me to introduce you to Ms. Esamarla Raizonne, my social companion. Esamarla, this is an…old friend, Clarice Starling."

"L'cOh! Ciao, Ms. Starling. It's a pleasure to meet you," Esamarla exclaimed warmly, taking her hand and patting it several times.

Starling must have made a face, or performed some twitch of the eye that only Dr. Lecter caught, because he seemed furthermore pleased. "It's nice to meet you, too," she said, not looking to him, not able to.

"Clarice?" Thank God! Nicholas came and stood beside her, looking to Dr. Lecter with something of a frown. She hoped against hope that he wouldn't recognize him.

Plastering a smile to her face, she turned and grasped his arm, apparently taking him by surprise. "Nicholas, this is an old friend of mine," she said, convincing even herself for a minute. "Charles…" her voice trailed off, a streak of panic running through her, as she didn't know a last name. Dr. Lecter recognized this and scooped her up before crashing as he, too, flashed a smile and extended a hand.

"Dr. Charles Wilkins," he introduced himself. "I knew Clarice several years ago while she was training at Quantico, if you're wondering."

Indeed, Nicholas was wondering, she could tell. Wondering and coming to several conclusions for himself. "Did you, now?" he asked through his teeth, anger flashing across his eyes for a reason even she could not fathom. Surely he had not recognized Dr. Lecter as Dr. Lecter, had he? It was a possibility of course, but Nicholas was not difficult to read. If he knew this was the cannibal that changed his beloved's life fourteen years ago, she would know that he knew, and so would Dr. Lecter.

The shot of anger was brief, and settled into a passive state before anyone else could catch it. Starling knew Dr. Lecter had seen it without having to look at him. If she were so prospective, he was ten times that amount.

"Clarice," he was saying now, making her name flow sweetly through his voice like honey, "would you oblige me in a dance, for old times sake?"

Starling didn't know how or why, but somehow she ended up in his arms as HE – not Nicholas – led her across the dance floor, leaving both their companions standing side by side in a dumbfounded manner.

Feeling more and more like she was trapped in a dream, Starling found it difficult to focus on the person holding her than she could stand. This caused her to clutch onto him more so, to prevent herself from falling over in dizziness. Dr. Lecter did not seem to mind, and rather encouraged her to do more so.


"Clarice? Clarice, are you all right?"

He was speaking to her, but she couldn't hear anything. Over and over again, all she could hear was his statement about Esamarla.

{My social companion}

The very thought of Dr. Lecter with someone else was enough to drive her mad. The idea that it could drive her mad was also uncomfortable, for it confirmed everything that she had been denying for the decade and a half of her life. Wasted, wasted, wasted! Wasted thoughts through the day, wasted lectures to herself that emptily convinced her that she felt nothing for this man, wasted denials, rumors, accusations, gone, gone, all gone. Fourteen years of denial wasted. And all it took to come to this celestial level of discovery and forbidden knowledge was a chance meeting with him and his 'social companion' on a vacation that was supposed to soothe her over-anxious soul. Gone, all gone. All fourteen miserable years of denying this admittance were gone.

What was worst of all, Dr. Lecter knew she was jealous, and was enjoying every minute of it in his modestly discreet manner. She wondered if he still thought about her at all, or if this new woman in his life was satisfactory. By the way he was encouraging her to hold onto him, she found herself hoping he was as disgruntled in his relationship as she was her's.

For a minute, his eyes flashed, and she was offered a peek at his soul, what he was keeping masterfully concealed from her. Biting her lower lip, she victoriously heard him release a breath and sensed some muscle tension in the arms that held her.

"Clarice? Please answer my question. You know how I well I tolerate disobedience." The threat was empty, of course, said more in a playful fashion. It made her shiver in anticipation, her body suffering the same reaction it exhibited when Nicholas displayed authority. Only this was ten times the impact, a hundred times the impact.

She suddenly felt moist between her legs and was aching with urgency that she had never before experienced. When Dr. Lecter's nostrils flared, she knew he smelled her desire, and again his eyes reflected his pleasure at this discovery.

What had he asked? It seemed forever ago, and they had only been on the dance floor for a few minutes. Her mind clicked and set on rewind.

{Clarice? Clarice, are you all right}

No, she wasn't all right! She was miles from all right! At this preposterous suggestion that she could be all right while he was escorting someone else, she wanted scream at him, to tell him everything, to give in, to let him win, to experience the pleasure of losing. But no, she couldn't do that. She was Clarice Starling of – well – the New York Times, but once Clarice Starling of the FBI. The F…B…I. She couldn't admit this desire, even if he knew it already to exist. The part of her hooked to the old ball and chain would never submit to this haven, would never allow her to conform.

{DAMMIT! DAMMIT! DAMMIT!}

{Lie. Lie. It's your only way out now}

"I'm perfectly fine, Dr. Lecter," she heard herself saying. Oh God, her voice was trembling. She saw his brow lower in animal-like disapproval.

"My, my, my, after so many years, Clarice, and you still haven't learned not to lie to me." At that, he drew her closer, so that his breath was at her lips. Starling felt herself weaken, a burning sensation sweeping her legs that wanted to encircle his waist here, with no remorse to who they were or who they hurt. Nicholas and Esamarla were miles away, it seemed, and even so, in no place to stop the reunion for two that had been pining for each other, whether openly or in the shadows of denial, for so long.

"Dr. Lecter," she whimpered. "Please…"

"Please? I would most certainly like to, Clarice. Certainly you know that by now." He smiled, and though it was a welcoming smile, Starling distinctly saw the 'do not enter; wrong way' sign it opened her to. However, she felt helpless to stop herself, she didn't want to.

{Nicholas is watching, Starling. What are you going to say to him?}

{Fuck him! Don't deny yourself what you want! He's here, Clarice, he's right here before you, and you have no reason NOT to indulge. You'll never forgive yourself if you don't!}

Her voice, though, betrayed her. "I can't, Dr. Lecter, and neither can you."

"If you're referring to Ms. Raizonne—"

"Yes, her," Starling said. She blinked. Oh God, did she just interrupt him? To her memory, she couldn't remember doing so. By the look in his eyes, he was surprised, amused, and pleased. "Her, Nicholas, and myself. Dr. Lecter…things…"

"You are no longer FBI, Ex Special Agent Starling. Please do not be tedious and refer to your obligation to your country. You are not in a position to exhibit authority, though I suppose you'd very much like to." He smiled as his face neared once more. Starling held her breath as he inhaled her scent and drew back, his smile remaining. "And judging by your situation, you'd also like to have authority given to you. Hmm, most interesting, Clarice, most interesting indeed."

Starling felt her breath stop and knew he would hear it when she breathed again. So, here she was, for the third time in a lifetime, presented with him on a silver platter. Her past experiences of rejecting him had not proved entirely successful, as he remained on her mind almost constantly.

{Don't be a fool, Clarice. You won't be happy if you don't follow your heart}

It was hard to abide when she knew what she would be giving herself to. However, it also excited her to consider.

But she never got a chance to reply. Nicholas intervened. Grasping her arm, he tore her from Dr. Lecter's embrace and handed her the jacket she abandoned at their dinner table.

"Come on, Clarice. We're leaving."

He was angry, again. Starling couldn't fight, couldn't struggle. Warning bells sounded in her mind as she caught a glance of Dr. Lecter's eyes. He wasn't happy; his face distinctly displayed his distaste. This was terribly rude, she realized.

{Oh God! Nicholas stop! Stop now before you—}

At that, she found the will to struggle. "Let go of me, Nick."

"We're leaving." He gave a firm tug of her arm to assert his authority. Starling felt herself sink. It was over now. Dr. Lecter's form vanished from sight as she was dragged from the restaurant.

* * *