Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.  Hannibal Lecter wondered, and not for the first time, why he was always reminded of cheesy film quotes whenever he came near Clarice Starling.  Of course, he wasn't at first sure that it was in fact Clarice Starling who had suddenly appeared, once again, in the midst of his world.  A first he thought the woman's resemblance was a mere coincidence.  A coincidence that in fact was just enough to throw his world off balance.  A second look helped to reassure Lecter that this raven-haired woman had only a passing semblance to Clarice Starling.  Still, twelve years of freedom had not been easily bought, and even if the newspapers could be believed, that Clarice was in fact missing in action, it would hurt nothing to make absolutely sure.

So Lecter chose a dance partner, an unassuming woman he had never seen before.  Attractive, he supposed, in a way that almost made one sick to the stomach for want of intelligence to match the looks.  Then Lecter swayed and laid on the charm, all the while moving the woman closer and closer to the woman in the lilac colored dress that had for the moment become the center of his reality.

His dance partner was caught in an unattractive laugh when Lecter suddenly tightened his hold on her.  His eyes had never moved from her face, but now he smiled reassuringly.  She calmed again, and chatted to him about herself. 

Lecter told himself to breath.  It was her.  Without even looking, he knew.

You use Evian skin cream, and sometimes your wear L'Air du Temps, but not today.

Dr. Lecter smiled out of the corner of his mouth, just as he looked in that direction with his eyes.  Yes, today, he thought, carefully re-schooling his features when he realized his dance partner had caught the predatory grin appearing across them.  He moved her around gently; to get a good look at the woman he now knew was Clarice Starling.

            The violet dress was certainly not a color she could have pulled off in her old hair color, he noted.  The dark tresses seemed to suite her; dark, compelling, and sultry.  It was done up, and littered with little jewels to set off a dress that had the complete opposite approach than the one he had dressed her in while in the Chesapeake house.  This time, the dramatic plunge revealed her smooth curving back.  He felt an uncalled for surge of jealousy as her dance partner swung around so he could see his face.  Blonde and mustachioed, Lecter could hardly imagine what Clarice would want with Charles Montaigne, the leading joke of Paris film society.  Lecter found his work dry and barely worth filming, although it beat most of the other rubbish that came from his peers.

            Clarice must have found him charming, however, for as she spun around back into his view, she was laughing, her eyes closed to reveal the violet eye shadow running from her lashes up to her perfectly sculpted eyebrows.  He considered her carefully, wondering if he should make some indication of his presence, see how she reacted.

            He never knew what inspired it.  If she knew someone watched her.  If she knew it was him.  It didn't really matter, he supposed, but as he was thinking of revealing his existence to her, her eyes flashed up, bright and wary, and locked onto his.

            For Clarice Starling, everything narrowed.  The room was gone, the music was gone, Charles was gone.  She realized before this moment, for the last two years, she had not existed.  How could she ever possibly exist outside the wash of those radiating red eyes?  Oh, didn't you realize, Clarice, that little voice nagged, didn't you realize that you only exist in between the time when he comes and goes?  Didn't it cross your mind that you only live in his presence?

            She didn't blink.  Whoever this creature was that Clarice Starling had become, she had lost none of her convictions.  Lecter glowed with pleasure.  I win again, Jackie.  I created this one.  Does she even remember your name? It doesn't matter.   I assure you, after tonight, there will only be one name in her mind, in her heart, and on her tongue.

            The dance stopped, Clarice smiled at Charles and stepped away from him.  At the same time, Dr. Lecter nodded to his partner, and stepped aside.  They said nothing. Neither smiled, neither blinked.  His hands came to rest at the small of her back, pressing into the warm skin there, while her arms ran up his lapels to intimately rest on the nape of his neck.

            Charles was a little startled at Clarice's sudden change of partner.  Clarice didn't often dance at such events, especially with men she didn't know.  Charles was not the only one to notice Clarice's new dance mate.  Stella appeared instantaneously.  "Who is that, Charles?  Who is Margie dancing with?"

            "I don't know," Charles said, for the first time in a long time, not dazzled by Stella talking to him.

            "Well, someone must know.  He's handsome for an older gentleman.  She must know him from the gallery…" and so on, Stella rambled.  Charles turned his eyes to her with a sudden look of disgust at the shallow person beside him.

On the other side of the ballroom, there was one person who had absolutely no misgivings about where Clarice Starling had met Dr. Hannibal Lecter.  And now all Will Graham needed to do was to find the woman who had so foolishly decided not to remove the beauty mark above her right cheek.