Six months into Sally's new life, Hannibal Lecter gave her a present.

Lecter had always prided himself on being a good host, and his duties as such never slipped; thus, Sally had found herself well-cared and –provided for. She had slept in a comfortable bed in a decent-sized room, and he'd taken the lock off the door after the first week; Sally had no intention of trying to escape. After two weeks, she had been allowed to go out into the grounds, which were more extensive than she would have imagined. The house was in a valley with pine forests on every side and a river running through it, in which she could swim. Sally detested running, but had started going for eventually lengthy runs through the grounds, even venturing up into the forest. There was never any discussion of how far she was allowed to go, but a vague understanding that she would not leave the valley, something that she was not sure she could manage even if she tried; about halfway up the hills, the terrain became rough and prone to falling trees and shifting earth. There was, of course, the road, but Sally disregarded that, because the simple truth was that she knew that escape was futile – Lecter would hunt her down, and this time he would not be so merciful. She had never complained of her treatment, and always did everything that was asked of her, which admittedly wasn't much. He spoke rarely, and she followed his lead; yet she had become comfortable in his presence, and she had found happiness, of a sort.

Every day, Lecter left the house for around an hour, sometimes two, generally to buy groceries and other supplies. This was usually early in the morning, before Sally rose, and it was the crunch of wheels on gravel that woke her up each day. On her first day in the house, Lecter had been away for several hours before returning with four or five bags full of new clothes, shoes, underwear, and toiletries for her. Sally was mildly shocked by this for a number of reasons: that he had the foresight to do this; that he cared enough to do so; and also that everything fit perfectly, including the bras, which was slightly concerning. The clothes were all high quality and far more expensive than anything Sally had previously owned. She had helped him carry the bags to her room and thanked him for them. Lecter merely nodded in reply and left, leaving Sally in a mild heaven of new clothes to try on, an activity which occupied her for the next hour.

Sally was pretty sure that she had seen most of the house. She didn't dare go exploring on her own, even when Lecter was out; she had been quick to establish the fact that he had an inhuman sense of smell and was pretty sure that he would be able to smell her in a room hours after she'd been there. But, as time went by, she had been introduced to more and more of the house until only the third floor remained; here was where Lecter resided, with his bedroom, bathroom, and large study. Sally's favourite room in the house was the library, and this was where she spent most of her time when not required to be anywhere else. Lecter had amassed an incredible collection of books, although when and how he came by them was not something that Sally wished to know. There were many works of great literature, books of plays and poetry, in English as well as several other languages, books of medical theories, philosophy, psychiatry, history, art, and several which Sally found to have actually been written by the doctor himself. She tried reading one of these, but quickly gave up, as she knew that it was way beyond her comprehension. The literature was her main focus, enjoying especially the works of Dickens and Milton, but what most pleased Lecter was her great interest in Italy – its art and architecture, literature, and language. Thus began her instruction in Italian, which was slow to begin with. As Lecter discovered, she spoke conversational French and German, which was both a help and a hindrance, as she continued to break into them when trying to speak. After three months, however, of daily tuition, and one month of Lecter refusing to speak anything but Italian to her, Sally was fluent, and this brought about two events: the first was her graduation into learning Italian poetry and literature, particularly that of Dante Alighieri, and art history of the same period. The second was the first English words she had heard in a month, which took a surprisingly long time to comprehend, and that was Lecter's announcement that she could accompany him shopping the next day, if she chose.

This caused an undue amount of excitement in Sally's mind. Adrenaline coursed through her body at the thought. She had not expected to react this way; being confined to the valley had never particularly bothered her, but the thought of leaving was both exhilarating and terrifying. There was a persistent little thought at the back of her mind that told her that she would do something to screw it up and blow their cover. And this thought sparked another internal debate.

Why did she care about blowing their cover? And why was it their cover? Surely it was only his. But it hit Sally then more than it ever had before that this was her life now. Her parents were dead (something she rarely allowed herself to think on, especially after having eaten her mother's left cheek (which hadn't actually tasted that bad)), the newspapers that Lecter bought each day declared that the search for her body was officially over, and she was content. She no longer felt lonely, not that she ever particularly had. Lecter was her entire world now, more than she would care to admit, and she had had a better life with him than with her parents. She was content, and realised then that she didn't want to leave, and would do whatever she could to protect the life she had there.

Despite this, exhilaration was the more dominant of the emotions. At his words, Sally had reacted instinctively and hugged him, this being a relic from her life as an ordinary teenage girl. Lecter did not move, he merely stood there and waited for it to cease. Physical contact had been something that had been denied to both of them until now, for various reasons; Sally was still scared about what might happen if she did, while Lecter's reasons were far more complex and known only to him.

It was a few seconds before Sally realised the enormity of what she had just done. Three seconds had been pure excitement, but the fourth was breathing him in and revelling in a closeness she had not experienced since That Night. When this had passed, however, Sally sprang back with a hurried apology and bowed her head. She hoped that he would not punish her for this (not that he had ever punished her for anything and she thought it unlikely) and deny her the excursion. Lecter did not speak, so Sally raised her head again to regard his face, which had not changed except for a gentle shift in his eye that Sally had learned denoted faint amusement. She let her face settle into something more calm than the tense image it must have been and, when he still did not say anything, she bowed her head slightly by way of parting and walked up the stairs to her room, emerging just moments later in her running gear. It was an hour before she returned, red in the face, but having used up most of her adrenaline. Dinner was almost ready, and she just had time for a shower before Lecter set it on the table. Sally didn't know what it was, but it smelt delicious and she didn't ask; her culinary career had been cut short when she had set half the kitchen on fire the previous month and had not been allowed in since.

In all honesty, Lecter found the girl somewhat tiresome, but only somewhat. Despite his original interest in her, which he still maintained through her continual ability to surprise him in different ways, she was still only a girl, and occasionally behaved as such. Her inability to learn as instantly as he once had frustrated him. Only once had she thrown a tantrum, shortly after he had begun to speak only in Italian and she was floundering, and the fact that he did not rise and become as angry as she was infuriated her further. She had stormed off to her room and not left for around twenty-four hours, which Lecter thought quite impressive, as he knew that she had no supplies there. Then he had heard her footsteps plodding down the stairs, and she went into the kitchen and took out the plate of food he had left for her in the fridge, and sat down next to him at the dining room table, where he was reading a newspaper. She did not apologise, but deflected back to calling him 'sir' for several days. And she was impervious to his insults. This had intrigued him, as stronger people than her had collapsed into tears after a few sentences, but not Sally. She appeared to agree with what he said, accept it, and move on. This complete knowledge of herself was something that Lecter was drawn to, as he could well associate with it. It also gave him the opportunity to speak his mind without having to worry about floods of tears.

The real reason, one which he could hardly admit to himself, that Lecter had kept Sally was that she reminded him of Mischa. Not in the physical sense, and certainly not that she was the correct age, but primarily because of the way she looked at him. Sally was never so open about it as Mischa had been, obviously, but Lecter could see in her eyes and read in her body language the fact that she absolutely adored him and looked to him as an example. And yes, he had come to feel protective over her. He would be sad if something were to happen to her, and this was a new concept that took some consideration to get his head around. For many, many years, Hannibal Lecter had worked alone and fought only to protect himself. Then, the one time he had made himself vulnerable and put his trust in another human being, he had been abandoned and left distressed, helpless and handless. He wasn't sure whether or not he was quite ready to trust Sally, but he knew that she could trust him with anything as long as his recapture wasn't concerned.

The bond that Lecter felt with Sally was the only reason why his harpy did not descend from his sleeve when she launched herself at him. That was his instinct, and he had to fight against it, for he knew that there was no danger. This was why he stood calmly, patiently, waiting for it to end. He was tempted for a moment to put his arms around her in return, but was not certain what either of their next moves would be, so decided to wait it out. Yet it pleased him that she had reached this new level of comfort, if only subconsciously.

After her departure he began dinner, his mind musing far away. He wondered if he were right in his decision to reward her proficiency in such a way; he wondered if she were ready for an excursion to the outside world. But, despite the four months it had taken to learn Italian, Sally had otherwise proven herself to have a quick brain and Lecter had faith that she would work through it. He would brief her over dinner; he had his own identity and he had worked her into that over the months as his daughter, which seemed vaguely age-appropriate. If she did not seem up to the task by nightfall, then he could always postpone.

While Lecter was debating whether or not Sally would cope in the outside world, Sally had much more important problems on her mind – what to wear. She had not seen the outside world in six months, but nor had the world seen her. Lecter had provided her with a moderately large store of clothing, and while showering she internally raided her closet, knowing that she would not physically have a chance to do so until well after dinner. So many options… but of course, the weather would play a large part and she didn't know the forecast. She tried to put it out of her mind.

Sally had quickly learned that Lecter was from an upper-class family (she had tried to amass more knowledge from the library, but alas), and as such dinner was a slightly more formal affair. To this end, she ignored the slacks she had spent the day in and instead chose a knee-length dress, leaving her hair out to dry. She sat down at the table just as Lecter placed her food in front of her, and smiled her thanks at him. They ate in silence. Sally was waiting for Lecter to bring it up, as he was bound to do, but he was quiet until Sally had cleared the table, as was her habit. When she returned, he spoke.

"As you will be aware, on our excursion tomorrow you will no longer be Sally Barron. Hopefully, it is unlikely that you will have to speak, or give or prove your identity at all. But on the off-chance that you are called upon to name yourself, you will need to be prepared." Here he paused, and Sally nodded, eyes bright with anticipation. "To this end, you will be my daughter, Aliss O'Connor, who has just finished her education at a boarding school on the other side of the country, and you have now returned home for the holidays before university, where you will study English literature and Italian. I see no reason to tell you more than this; your knowledge of both these topics should suffice if you are questioned. As for the rest, you may improvise." Sally felt his eyes on hers, making sure that she was listening. As if she wouldn't be. She nodded slowly.

"Alright, dad," she said, vaguely mischievously. He shot her a sharp glance.

"I am your father, Aliss. You would do well to remember it," he said coldly. She laughed.

"Sorry, father."

The evening passed slowly. Sally, willing for tomorrow to come, spent it trying on every item of clothing she possessed, until a small "yes" pile and a rather larger "no" pile had collected on the floor. By this time it was 10pm, so she decided to give up and go to bed, after putting away all the clothes first, of course. Lecter would have a fit if he saw her wearing something that was creased and rumpled and had clearly been on the floor all night.

When the floor was clear, she looked around the room and walked to the vanity. In the top drawer was a small box containing a few items of jewellery that she hadn't touched since she had arrived at casa Lecter – a friendship ring, a necklace with a cameo rose that her mother had given to her, and her favourite earrings, a cup and saucer. There was also the silver bracelet that Lecter had given her; she wasn't sure why, it had just turned up in her room one day. She looked at them for a while, and then placed the open box on top of the vanity. She was about to close the draw when something caught her eye – there was a second box in there. Sally reached in and pulled it out, and then laughed. Lecter was always far more organised than she anticipated. He had provided her with a box of blonde hair dye and, when she opened it and took out its contents, a pair of scissors. The mirror showed her reddish-brown hair, falling over her face and below her shoulders.

"Sure," she muttered, smiling. "Why not?"

An hour later, her cropped blonde hair still wet from the shower, she climbed into bed and waited for hours for sleep to come.

The stairs creaked just as Lecter finished preparing breakfast, and he looked up to see Sally trying very hard to not fall down them in her excitement. He rolled his eyes and set their plates on the breakfast bar, which he despised but which was stubbornly the only place Sally would sit for breakfast. She grinned widely at him. Lecter raised an eyebrow at her hair and nodded slightly. He knew she was waiting for his opinion.

"Do you like it?"

He shrugged.

"It could be worse."

Lecter took his time preparing to go out, while Sally sat on the couch, impatiently fiddling with the hem of her dress. When the dishes were done and he had put on his shoes, he led Sally out to the car, locking the house behind them.

This was the first time that Sally had been in Lecter's car since he first brought her to the house and the fawn leather interior brought back memories that it took a moment to suppress. This was not a time for pain. She put them out of her mind.

Sally had wondered whether or not Lecter would blindfold her for the journey, but he made no mention of such things. Her heart leapt slightly – he trusted her enough to not give away their location. Such trust was hard to earn from a man like him, she knew. They journeyed in silence for ten or so minutes.

"Could we turn on the radio?"

"Only if I can choose the station." Sally was fine with that; she enjoyed Lecter's taste in music.

Instead of the radio, he put on a cassette of Bach's suites for solo cello. After No. 3, Sally reached out to turn it over, eager to hear more, but Lecter stayed her hand. She had become so absorbed in the music that she had failed to notice the change in scenery around them.

They had arrived in the large town of Alberton. Sally gazed hungrily at the shops, the streetlamps, and the people, the people who strolled around, thoughtlessly going about their daily lives without a care in the world, not having to worry about being a fugitive or hiding their identity. Sally disliked and envied them, just a little bit.

Lecter turned onto a side street and parked. He got out and walked around to Sally's side of the car, opening the door for her to get out. She climbed out, accepting his proffered hand, and breathed deeply the smell of the polluted, smoke-ridden air. Her nose crinkled.

"I think I like home better," she said to Lecter. I just called it home, she thought. Interesting.

The first stop they made was at a charcuterie called Big Bad Wolf. Sally waited in a corner while he perused the displays and tried not to inhale the overpowering smell of flesh. Despite having lived with Lecter, or maybe because of it, she was still not a huge fan of raw meat.

Lecter led a somewhat wide-eyed Sally around four other shops, and she was not required to speak a word. It was not until their last destination, an organic vegetable shop, when Frank the shopkeeper greeted Lecter warmly with a hearty handshake and then turned in surprise to Sally, who was carrying all of their previous acquisitions.

"Is this your daughter, John? You've finally brought her out to meet me, eh?"

"Yes, she's just completed school and will be going to university after the summer."

"Well it's lovely to finally meet you… uh…"

"Aliss," Sally said, barely missing a beat. Lecter breathed again. "Nice to meet you too." She shook his still outstretched hand.

"Which university will you be going to?"

"We're still waiting to hear back from several, aren't we Aliss?" Lecter cut in, looking pointedly at Sally.
"Y-yes, we are. Hopefully they'll reply soon," Sally said. "I'm going to do a double major in English Literature and Italian," she pressed on excitedly, before either man could ask. "I'm really looking forward to it, I also want to try and take some Music and German papers to brush up–" she could feel Lecter's gaze boring into her soul and realised that now would be a good time to stop talking before she became overexcited. She abruptly stopped speaking and coughed awkwardly.

Frank's eyes flicked apprehensively between Lecter and Sally, noticing the tension between them. He licked his lower lip nervously.

"…well that sounds just great, I hope you enjoy your studies! Although I'm sure I'll see you around here again soon anyway," Frank said, trying to bring the conversation back to its light-hearted beginning.

"Thanks," Sally mumbled. Lecter, sensing her disheartenedness, then cut in and began enquiring after Frank's opinion on eggplants. He kept his tone light but knew that Sally could feel his slight disappointment in her. When Frank went to the storeroom to find his fresh stock of artichoke hearts, he turned to Sally. Looking heartbroken, she mouthed, "Sorry!" at him. This was her one chance and she'd let him down. Lecter held her gaze for several moments longer before his eyes softened and he reached out and gently touched her shoulder. He felt her body relax. Her face brightened slightly as Frank returned. She remained quiet until Lecter had paid and they were about to leave the shop.

"I'll see ya next week John, and nice to meet you Aliss!" Frank said enthusiastically, shaking first Lecter's hand and then holding his out to Sally. She took it gladly, hiding the shiver that went down her spine at the touch of another human being.

"Nice to meet you too, Frank," she said smiling.

"Goodbye, Frank," Lecter said with a curt nod of his head, and they turned to leave. He heard Sally breathe a tiny sigh of relief as he held the door open for her and smiled to himself.

"Oh, John?"

Lecter turned back and caught the door before it closed. Frank was standing in the door to the storeroom, beckoning to him, before disappearing back in there himself. Lecter's nostrils flared. Something was wrong.

"Wait in the car," he murmured to Sally, handing her the key. She nodded, and moved off to where they had parked. Lecter blinked slowly, inclined his head, and walked inside.

The door closed with a clatter behind Lecter, causing Sally to look back. She knew something was wrong. She hadn't seen Lecter look like that in a long, long time, and she knew what it meant. Somehow, he felt threatened, and now he was going into predatorial mode and Sally was worried.

As she was still carrying all of their groceries, Sally did indeed return to the car. She put the items in the boot and then searched the car to see if Lecter had any handy hidden weapons that she could borrow. Surprisingly, and somewhat disappointingly, she did not find any, so she decided to drive the car back to the shop. The fact that she didn't know how to drive was irrelevant. Time was of the essence.

Lecter followed Frank into the storeroom and quietly shut the door behind him.

"Ah, John. Come over here." Frank was hidden behind some shelves towards the back of the room.

"Yes, Frank? Did I forget something?" Lecter walked forward until he was in sight of Frank.

"The thing is, John," Frank said, and whipped out a gun which he aimed straight at Lecter's heart. "The thing is that I recognise that girl. She's been all over the news. Yeah, she's had a haircut and lost half her body weight, but that's still her. It's still Sally Barron. Now, I don't know who you think you are but the police are on their way, and don't you try anything before they get here because I'll shoot you through the shoulder, so help me God." His hand shook slightly. Lecter took a step forward, and Frank instinctively stepped back.

"How very… brave of you, Frank. But you are mistaken! That's not this Sally of which you speak, it's my daughter. Your notion is absurd." Lecter's voice was light but his eyes were fire. He continued walking towards Frank, who was backing away. They were headed to the back door. "Sally Barron died with her parents six months ago."

"And that's the same time you started talking about your daughter. Odd, isn't it? But they never found Sally's body. I'm not stupid, John—" Really? thought Lecter. "—I can put two and two together." His back hit the door but Lecter continued forwards. Frank desperately scrambled for the door handle behind him, finally locating it and stepping back into the sunlight. Lecter followed him.

"No gunshots out here, Frank. Don't want to alarm anyone, do we? And no security cameras either, that was a bit of an oversight, don't you think—" Lecter's arm shot out, aiming for the gun while he dodged the bullet that came when Frank pulled the trigger, startled by Lecter's sudden movement. It grazed his arm. He didn't even feel it. His fingers closed around the barrel and he jerked it out of Frank's grip, tossing it away.

Already, he could hear people coming. There wasn't much time.

Sally parked the car in the next block, then heard the gunshot and began to run. She headed around behind the shop, but stopped at the corner of the building. It would be foolish to rush in. Dropping to her stomach (because no one notices a head at ground level), she peered around the corner. The gun was just a few feet away from her. Then she looked up at the two men and her eyes widened in horror. Lecter's right eye was bruised and as she watched, Frank kicked him in the stomach and he fell to the ground. Sally was shocked. That wasn't like Lecter at all. Frank stood over him now. He said something that Sally couldn't hear and then he climbed on top of Lecter, one leg either side of his chest, arm drawn back for a punch. Sally darted up from her position and grabbed the gun, looked at it, terrified, for a moment, and then held it by the barrel.

"Oi!" Frank looked around in surprise.

"Sally, it's okay, I—"

"You stay away from him, you bastard," she said, and hit him across the forehead with the stock of the gun. He fell to the ground, unconscious. Sally quickly helped Lecter up.

"We don't have much time."

"I know." He glanced around quickly. "Help me." He picked up Frank's legs, Sally grabbed his arms.

"I brought the car, it's in the next block outside Big Bad Wolf." Lecter nodded. Together they hauled the body away, running as inconspicuously as they could, knowing that they only had seconds before someone spotted them. Sally kept a hold on the gun.

They moved behind several other shops before rounding the corner towards the street again. Sally dropped Frank's arms and got down on her stomach again to check the street. Lecter raised an eyebrow but didn't comment. As she'd hoped, there was a press of people surrounding Frank's shop, which meant that no one was looking their way. Straightening up, Sally walked briskly to the street and then across the road to the car. She brought it around and backed it up into the driveway Lecter was standing in, popping the boot. They quickly threw Frank in and then Lecter got back into the driver's seat, barely waiting for Sally to close the door before driving off around the corner. He heard police sirens behind them.

"I was fine, you know. I had him under control," Lecter said. Sally scoffed.

"Under control? He was about to kill you! Probably would've done if I hadn't been there," she said, slightly smugly. Lecter rolled his eyes, but remained silent. There was a lengthy pause, then something appeared to occur to him.

"Sally?"

"Yes?"

"Don't you ever drive my car again."

By the time they got home, Frank had woken up and was banging on the roof of the boot. Sally looked at Lecter, concerned.

"You wait in the house," he said. Sally did not need to be told twice.

She didn't ask what was for dinner that night.

Much later, around midnight, Lecter went out again. He was going back to Frank's shop, just to "clean things up," he said. It was around 2am when he returned to find Sally sitting in exactly in the same place on the couch, staring at nothing. She had been unusually quiet all evening. Not that she was normally particularly chatty, but her mood was subdued.

Lecter was not troubled by this. The events of the day had no doubt reminded her of her former life, as well as the fact that she had assisted in the kidnap and murder of Frank the shopkeeper, and naturally she was now contemplative of her current life and situation. She would emerge eventually.

Part of Sally's approach to living with Lecter had been to simply push all thoughts of her friends and her parents' death from her mind: if she ignored them, then she could pretend that they had never happened, and so survive.

But their day had brought everything flooding back. Sally began to wish that Lecter had just killed her along with her parents all those months ago. Everything she had learned while with him was forgotten; the fact that she was now a much better person was pushed aside. She didn't want this anymore. She wanted to have her friends back and go to the movies, have stupid arguments, and complain about school, not help attack and kill someone. Most of all Sally wanted to scream. She settled for politely excusing herself from the table and stepping upstairs, to the study with the piano. She felt safer upstairs.

Although Sally could not play the piano at all, she liked to sit at it and think. She closed her eyes and saw Lecter sitting in her place, playing. Sally loved to watch him play. She could hear him now, the notes etched into her memory.

When the last notes had faded into silence, Sally opened her eyes and looked down at the ivory that was now speckled with tears. Mindlessly, she stood up and made her way to her own room, where she stood for a moment before picking up the glass of water from her bedside table and hurling it across the room with a scream, where it smashed against the wall. Almost before the shards had fallen, Sally had collapsed onto the ground where she stayed, sobbing, for several minutes.

Lecter did not wince at the breaking glass; nor did he make any movement to acknowledge that he had heard it at all. He remained perfectly still, seated on the couch in the lounge room, reading Lolita. Ridiculous story, but written with delicious style. The best thing to do was to wait. The girl would make up her own mind eventually.

He did not have to wait long.

The feeling of despair did not last. Sally's tears quickly dried up, for the most part, and at that moment there was only one place that she wanted to be: in the arms of another human being.

Breaking the taboo of physical contact for the second time in as many days, and not giving a damn about whether or not Lecter would actually let her do this, Sally went back downstairs towards the man who had both saved and ruined her life. She found him in the lounge and climbed onto the couch next to him, lifting his left arm and putting it around her so that she could rest her head on his shoulder. She snuggled into him, stifling the occasional sob, and breathed deeply as she felt warm and safe once again.

Lecter allowed his arm to be manipulated, only slightly raising an eyebrow in response. It took him a moment to realise her intentions, and he bit back on his cutting remark as an unexpected wave of sympathy overcame him. They were fugitives together, and Sally wasn't frightened anymore. She had proven that she was ready to stand beside him in the most dangerous situation of all.

The instinct to protect her became stronger once again, so Lecter carefully put down his book and tightened his arm about her shoulders. He paused for a moment, and then, in a rare show of feeling and solidarity, tentatively lowered his head and placed his lips gently against her forehead.

He could sense the change in her mood. This was no longer despair; it was resignation.

Lecter rested his head on hers and closed his eyes, and they remained there until the morning.