Clarice awoke with a start, still sitting next to the bureau. She looked around her startled, noticing the mauve paper and the sketch were still sitting next to her, much as she had dropped them before she fell asleep. She pushed her hair out of her face and wondered what had caused her to awaken so suddenly. A knock came on the door, Starling realized it must be for the second time. "Just a minute!" she called, then paused, thinking what if was him, should she have pretended not to be here? What would it matter! He would know anyway! She scrambled to get up and then running to the door was relieved to see Will Graham standing outside. But are you really relieved, Clarice? The voice teased. She growled to herself before rushing back over to grab up the letter and sketch and shove them in her closet and closed it soundly.

When Clarice opened the door, she was surprised to see Graham's face lined with dark circles around his blood shot eyes. He went out and got drunk last night? Clarice would not have expected that from him. She blinked and Graham decided to start the conversation.

"You look about as bad as I feel," he said.

"What?" she said, looking down and finally realizing her appearance was not her normal tidy façade. "Oh… I had a rough night," she laughed lightly.

"I can see that. You didn't even change out of your clothes. Do you want me to come back?" he asked as she began to stretch to get the kinks out of her back that sleeping upright against a bureau could cause.

"Would you mind? You could order breakfast while you wait, or go back to bed. You look like you've been up all night." From the spark in Graham's eyes, Clarice could tell that was just the case. Graham agreed and she shut the door. Heading into the bathroom, Starling saw herself in the mirror. Her blonde hair was sticking out from her usually neat ponytail in all directions and her clothes were severely wrinkled. Her eyes shared the same blood shot look as Graham's, but hers were from exhaustive dreams where the lambs never ceased to scream. Clarice got into the shower and let her thoughts be obliterated by the pounding of the water on her head.

She tried to dress casually, knowing that she would stick out like a … well, like an American in Europe. Gray dress pants and a black button down shirt that had been peeking out of her closet last night would have to do. She strapped her shoulder holster on and put a loose jacket that matched her pants over top. She hooked her sunglasses into the inside pocket of her jacket for when she got outside. Lastly, she slipped into her far-from-cheap shoes and grabbed her handbag.

Graham was standing out in the hallway when she opened the door. "Well," he said in greeting, "the house didn't give us any clues, where do we go from here?"

"We could go down to where he worked, but I have a feeling we're not going to get much out of them."

"The reports said they were scared, maybe their tongues have loosened by now."

"I doubt it, but I guess it's worth a try."

As they both suspected, all of Dr. Lecter's former co-workers had no wish to tattle on the good doctor. Will and Clarice ended up spending most of the day sightseeing. Once she was acting less in a professional capacity and more in a vacation type one, she began to see what Dr. Lecter loved so much about this city. There were art museums and theatres everywhere. The food was wonderful and she couldn't remember feeling freer and less bound in years, and what views! Graham was tolerable company. Sure he wasn't the most cultured man she'd ever met, but he had his good points. She knew he would never become a prince through some broken spell, but she was beginning to give him little glimpses into her world.

After dinner he ventured, "What do you plan to do when you get back, Clarice? Go back to that dark little dungeon and try to find Lecter until they fire you?"

"That's about all I can do, isn't it? You should know, Will, you're married to the F.B.I. And no matter what you do; you don't divorce it, it divorces you. I suspect that's the reason you never took an official position with us."

"You got that right. It's one thing to be dragged into investigations, it's another to have to do them because it's your job."

She nodded, soberly.

"So you don't plan to ever get married, Clarice? Have children?"

"What an odd question, Mr. Graham!" Will noticed the sudden change in her address to him. Not something she liked to discuss apparently.

"How is that odd?" he said. "Normal dinner conversation if I ever heard it."

She laughed, relaxing again it seemed. "I never really thought about it. I guess it's hard to imagine getting married and having children when you can't even find a boyfriend."

"Have you looked?"

"When do I have time to look?" She laughed. "In my spare time between midnight and one? Sorry, Will, there's only one man in my life and once I catch him maybe I can think about finding a boyfriend or husband."

Will Graham smiled. "Fair enough."

"Let me ask you, then. Are you looking for a wife, Will?"

"No," he said.

"Why not? You don't have the time restrictions that I do. Nor the job to take up all of your time."

"Let me ask you something, Clarice? Why do you suppose Jack Crawford never remarried?"

Clarice stopped suddenly. Everyone knew Jack Crawford would never remarry because Bella had been his, not to be cliché, true love. "I understand," she said finally.

Dessert came then and saved them from continuing the uncomfortable conversation.

Afterwards, they strolled along the narrow streets back to their hotel. At her door, Graham bid Clarice good night. He was standing a bit close for her comfort and she just smiled and slipped into her room, alone.

Inside, she took her jacket off without turning the lights on and went into the bathroom. There she splashed water on her face and brushed her teeth. She looked at herself in the mirror. Boy do you look tired, Starling. "I feel tired, too," she commented to the woman in the mirror. She turned off the bathroom light and went to switch on the lamp by the television. Her hand bumped into something else, but she managed to turn the light on, to discover the thing she bumped was a vase, filled with three-dozen roses. Clarice felt irritation rising. The nerve of some people. He must be embarrassed after I just sent him to bed. Then she noticed the tag. "Clarice," was all the copperplate said. She moved back away from it and looked quickly around the room. There was a tall back chair that faced toward the window. She couldn't see the front of it. She moved towards it and jumping onto the bed, tried to stay as far away from the chair as possible as she drew her gun. She almost knocked over the bedside lamp as she rounded on the chair. Her breath escaped heavily when she found it empty. She lowered her gun and pushed her hair out of her face, feeling foolish. She re-holstered her gun and approached the vase. Pulling the note out, she retreated back to the bed to read it.

I'm disappointed, Clarice. I'm sure you got my invitation last night. What made you ignore it? Have you and Will come to an agreement of some sort? I can't honestly say that that I approve of that, if it's the case. Truthfully, he doesn't seem your type, excuse the phrase. Well, in any case, I'll look for you again tonight. I trust you know the place and dress code.

                                                                                    ~ H

"No," Clarice said aloud. "No, I don't, Doctor," her voice was becoming strained because she was trying not to yell and awaken Will Graham. She looked on the back of the card for any further clue. It was blank. She sighed. Not like I planed on getting any sleep tonight anyway, she thought as she grabbed her jacket and headed out. As she climbed into the elevator, the door to Will Graham's room opened and he slunk out down to the staircase and headed down.