Florence. December 25th

Bells rang loudly from the Duomo. She was a good two blocks away when she heard them. Christmas was upon them, and although Italian's in general were not such consistent and devoted celebrants, clearly the day was recognised.

She'd woken up notably late in the morning, sleeping through her regular wake-up routine. It felt liberating to ignore normalities.  Yet, in her sate of relaxation, anxiety started its weeping. To know what she was going to do today, Christmas Day, made her extremely nervous. Of course, she, the soon-to-be ex special agent should be roaring with bravado, unfortunately her spunk had departed for the day. She was just a trembling bunch of nerves. 

Standing out in the cold, before the grand, though condensed homes, made her feel somewhat small in relation to life. Should she really be doing this? Approaching Hannibal Lecter in his home, unarmed and completely vulnerable? She had to stop discouraging herself, she'd regret it if she turned back now.

She pressed the buzzer she'd seen him at yesterday and waited. It was mere minutes before she heard static and a woman's voice.

"Si?"

A woman? She gulped

Think quick Starling!

" My name is Shawn Steeler. I'd like to speak with Dr. Lloyd, if he's available" She tried to cover her accent, hoping the woman understood basic English.

There was a muffled silence before she replied.

"He's on his way down." Her voice was neutral and barely comprehendible. The static clipped out. Conversation over.

The wait was next to unbearable. She rolled her weight back onto her heels, glancing upwards to the black wooden shutters. It really was a beautiful structure. Behind her stood a large Church, it was standing in the middle of the Piazza, and probably the only one she hadn't been inside.

Then she heard the sliding of a deadbolt. If it was possible, she was certain her heart just stopped- that, or leaped out of her chest and onto the frosty stone beneath her.

He appeared then, stunned and sexy as ever. Her breath catches and so does his. She can see it.

Oops you dropped your tea Doc. Ah who am I kidding. Fuck the tea. And Fuck these expensive boots you've wrecked.

Silence seems like an eternity when it's mutual. She could not look away, and neither could he. Honestly she thought he would have seen her yesterday. It's hard to catch him like this, without calculation. She treasured the moment.

"Clarice." Her name then, sung into the sky like a divine prayer.

She nodded, not yet able to speak.

He hadn't moved, she noticed. Not even to attempt to reconcile with the cup, it seemed meaningless.

"Clarice" Again he said her name, perhaps trying to convince himself that she actually was there.

The butterflies in her stomach quietened for the moment and she began to speak.

"Merry Christmas, Dr. Lecter" It felt like an understatement.

Stunned again. She wanted to laugh, but knew better. He just needed time to work that mind of his into rationality and reason.

Well what we're you expecting Starling? A welcome home with arms wide open! You pretty much made him hack his hand off the last time you saw him.

He opened his mouth to speak, but turned suddenly. Behind him stood an elegant looking woman, dark silky brown hair, deep-set brown eyes and fine cheekbones. In a simple words, she was beautiful.

Do I hate her yet?

His eyes still remained on her, but his body made way for the other.    

"Chi è questo mio caro?" She spoke through Dr. Lecter. It was the voice from over the intercom.

 " Felice, this is an former student of mine…"

"Shawn Steeler" Lucky she had a good memory and was quick off the mark.  She did not offer her hand.

The dark eyes move over Clarice hastily, hostility and slight envy is evident.

"Shawn, this is my wife Felice Lloyd" He spoke softly.

Her eyes stung and her mouth went dry.

Did he just say WIFE? Oh God. I'm gonna be sick 

"Nice to meet you" Clarice lied and she knew he picked it up.

There was a moment of awkward silence before the good doctor got himself together. When he spoke both women shivered.

"Felice, would you clear this mess up while I show or guest inside?" Dr. Lecter asked politely. Even Clarice wouldn't have been able to refuse him.

"Ok" She nodded curtly and stepped aside to make way.

Clarice walked through first, Dr. Lecter guiding her with the palm of his hand on the small of her back through the narrow, yet classical hallway. The nerves were back. Suddenly she felt like running back to her hotel to the safety of her secluded bedroom.

He turned then, as if sensing her sudden need to flee and took her by the hand, leading her up a flight of stairs into his studio 4B. She did not speak until he had released her hand at sat opposing her at a wide glass table. His home looked just as she imagined, fine arts hanging from the wall, plush carpet, leather couches with timber trimmings and a shiny white piano on display in the centre of a room facing the piazza. Her eyes completed the circuit and then landed back on his. He broke the silence first.

"Merry Christmas to you too, my dear. I must say you've thoroughly shocked me, Clarice." The metallic rasp echoed and bounced off the thick walls.

She smiled and lowered her gaze with lack of strength.

"I saw you yesterday" She started but shook her head dismissively. "You see, I don't even know why I'm here." That was a truth they both had drawn.

Wife! You're a stupid fool Starling.

"I assume that means your harbouring no weapon? Not even the threat of my arrest?" Slowly she saw him begin to relax, shoulders dropping gently and a smile playing lightly over his lips.

"No Doctor. This isn't a business call."

"Oh! A social call then. How quaint, Clarice." She sat simply looking at him, attempting to conceal the hurt. " From our last meeting, I gathered this moment would never come." He paused, his tone now lower and gentler. " I can't say I'm disappointed to see you. I never am." He stood then, easing the tension boiling within her. He walked over to a large cabinet and took two crystal flutes from a shelf, on the countertop beside him was a collection of fine wines. He picked up a bottle of Chianti, labeled 1964, and poured the liquid into the glasses.

"You'll have to excuse my scepticism, Clarice, but I find it hard to believe that you're not working." When he approached the table with the wine, she glimpsed to where he had placed a flute in front of her. His left hand, although pinkish white and scarred, seemed to be in full-function.  She swallowed audible, clearly taken back with guilt. She said nothing.

" You came all this way to see me yet having nothing to say." He returned to his seat and slightly angled his head to examine all of her. She hadn't reached for her glass; he could see her white knuckles firmly gripping her thighs.

"I'm not here on behalf of the F.B.I. I'm on vacation. I've been in Italy for over a month." It was all she could manage to offer.

"Ahh. So sighting me yesterday was of pure coincidence?" He considered. "Hmm that is rather intriguing."

"I'm quitting when I get back." Her hand moved up to the table as she ran a finger around the base of the glass. She noticed it was quite for a moment, only the flapping of pigeons nesting in the nearby roove gutters could be heard.

"And what of Special Agent Starling? The brave and incorruptible saviour of the lambs has stepped down, to what? Your behaviour three years ago would have proved otherwise; denying me of my fun…and my kiss." He took a sip from the flute but kept his eyes on hers.

"I suppose I grew tired of denying myself, Dr. Lecter." She looked straight at him, her watery blue eyes watching him. Beneath the clothed table, she felt her legs shaking. He smiled.

"My little Staring. All grown up and free to fly on her own."

On my own. If I'm finally free, why do I feel like shit?

"Often timing can be a bitch." She thought she had said that to herself, but with the doctor's chuckle and nod of approval, apparently she had expressed herself verbally.

At that moment Felice bounced through the doors with the remnants of the porcelain cup clustered in the bottom of a small tray. She swished past their table into the next room, not looking at either of them as she passed.

"No truer words spoken, Ms. Steeler" He turned to watch his wife through the semi-closed door. Their privacy had diminished, they both knew it. Clarice wondered if she was the only one who was disappointed in learning that.

Back trough the doors again came Felice, her silky dress catching and reflecting the dimmed light. She was smiling this time, almost as if she had found a sudden confidence while tossing out the trash. She followed Dr. Lecter previous movements and collected her own glass of Chianti. Without invitation, she pulled up a chair beside her husband and sat merrily. Clarice calmed the spontaneous urge to slap her pretty face.

That could have been me.

"Where did you meet my husband Ms. Steeler?" The sentence was slow but fairly precises. Perhaps Lecter had taught her English.

"Ahh well…"

"I lectured in the states for a while, Shawn was one of my finest students." He watched Clarice comprehend the situation and give nothing away. He was pleased. "We were just catching up on the good ole times. It's been a while." His pearly whites shined in a killer smile, making Felice grab his hand, marking her territory. Clarice felt something burn within her.

Is this what he feels like before he drives his harpy into someone?

 Clarice decided it was time to speak. "You must be happy here, Florence is a remarkable city. What are you doing with yourselves nowadays?" She realised that she was possibly putting him on the spot; but she was angry and she really didn't care.

" We both work at the Academic Museum of Fine Arts. It's where we met actually, early this year. It's about seven minutes walk from the Duomo. Have you visited yet?" The hand that was previously on his hand inched down towards his knee; Clarice felt her face grow red.

"The Duomo? Yes, a few times. The view is breathtaking." Her voice was weak, but on;y two of the would notice.

"I used to tell Shawn about the view. I never thought she'd make it though; she was always too busy working with her friends. People do change with time though." He looked through her and watched as her jaw tightened.

"Do you enjoy your work Ms. Steeler?" Felice inquired.

"No."

No one could speak. Clarice shifted in the chair and thought about leaving. Clearly she had made a mistake in coming.

"Will you stay for lunch? Felice has organised some wonderful dishes..." Dr. Lecter offered. She couldn't read his tone.

Clarice got up before he could continue, the chair scraping over the polished floor. She smoothed down the fresh creases in her skirt and stepped beside the table.

"Actually, I'm about to leave. I apologise for interrupting. I can see myself out" The tight smile she offered did not reach her eyes. "Nice to meet you Mrs. Lloyd." And then she darted out of the room before the hot tears refused to remain hidden. She thought she heard him call out; it made her quicken her pace down the stair and through the hallway.  She hadn't noticed the canvas above the door when she entered; Leda and the Swan. She felt sick and angry, and hated to admit why.

Why did you go? You're a fool, a hopeless fool.

She started running once she reached the square, she couldn't wait to get out of there, out of Florence and this damn wonderful country.

Merry freakin Christmas!

She disappeared into a crowd of rejoicing German tourists.