Clarice Starling made little circles around her belly button with her finger, causing the fine hairs over her abdomen to prickle slightly. The feeling of the tracing lingered as she overlapped the pattern several times, and soon the pricking ceased.

It must have been quite early, as the sun had not yet risen and summer had already engulfed Rome, and yet Hannibal Lecter was not lying beside her. The place his sleek figure usually occupied at such and early time was empty and cool, the sheets wrinkled where he had been hours before, and the blankets torn back. Clarice had woken up facing the empty place, and she stared at it since.

It was unusual for Hannibal to get up so early, but it didn't bother her; there was something else on her mind to worry about.

She felt nauseous as she let her hand rest over the area she had traced with her finger, the skin there felt hot, and for a moment she considered getting up to barricade herself in the bathroom to vomit. The nausea passed before she could do so, so she stayed where she was and rested her other hand in Hannibal's place. The sheets felt cold against her fingers.

"Do you have a fever?" he had asked absentmindedly the night before, after Clarice had taken to a particularly violent vomiting session. He had been reading when she finally came out of the bathroom.

"I..I think so," She had replied, still catching her breath from the ordeal.

"Hmm." He asked no more questions about it after that.

Starling knew then that he had accepted the truth before she could, and that bothered her a bit. She wasn't sure it was what she wanted. Hannibal, however, seemed undisturbed at all by the possibility, instead, he had kissed her stomach before they went to sleep.

Thinking about it, Clarice began to trace where his lips had touched her skin again.

Considering the frequentness of their intimacy, and how often they disregarded protection altogether, the discussion of pregnancy never arose between the couple. Even now that Clarice was thoroughly convinced that Hannibal was well ahead of her in considering that possibility, he didn't mention it. Instead he acted around it. He went out and bought enough food to last them a month at least, placed a pale beside her side of the bed, and, much to his displeasure Clarice was sure, locked the wine away. He went so far as to try and convince her that the grape juice he poured into her wine glass at night was red wine. She wondered who he was kidding.

Clearly he was fine with the idea, embraced it even, but Clarice wasn't sure she wanted to admit that it was the most likely of possibilities. She wasn't sure she wanted to have children at all anymore. It wasn't that she disliked them, or the idea of being a mother, but she had to be realistic, the world she and Hannibal lived in was dangerous. They were always moving around, never staying in one place for too long in hopes of lessening their chances of being discovered, keeping a variety of fake ID's at hand, and altering their appearance every so often to refresh there ability to blend in. They were criminals, both of them now, and Clarice was sure that this wasn't the kind of lifestyle a child should grow up in.

When Clarice eased away from herself as she was before, and entered a life where she was much more like him, she never took much thought to the cannibalistic instincts she seemed to quickly inherit. If he were to fall upon someone who came close to figuring out who they were, or when the old 'free-range rude' applied to someone particular, Starling didn't shy away from joining his habits. The idea worried her now, surely Hannibal didn't expect to teach a child the quirks of a cannibal, even if he did her.

No, the more she thought about it, the more she knew that she wasn't ready, they weren't ready to raise a child.

Clarice was still dragging her finger around her belly button when the sound of a door closing sounded a floor below. Without stopping, she held her breath to listen, sure enough the faint sound of Hannibal's footfalls echoed through the quiet as he made his way up the stairs of the mansion. It didn't take him long to get to when Starling was, but as she waited, the moments slowed for her. She blinked at him when pushed the door to their bedchamber open and walked in, he was holding something in his left hand.

He smirked slightly when she began to eye his hand curiously, tracing her eyes over the scar where his duplicate finger had been removed, and lifted it to show her. It was a rather large bottle of pills. Shacking it, he smirked again.

Clarice stopped circling her naval and sat up quickly, "what are those?" She snapped lightly. As if she didn't know already.

Hannibal tossed the bottle to her and she quickly turned it around in her palms, written in large black lettering the words 'Pre-maternal Vitamins' were printed. As she expected, she wasn't surprised by them, all it did was fully convince her he had completely devoured the idea and now was enjoying its flavour.

"Have you eaten yet?" He asked, pulling off his coat and hat, still smirking to himself as he hung them up and turned to face her.

Clarice shook her head, looking over the vitamins again, "no, I wanted-'

"You need to get up and eat then," Hannibal interrupted quickly, his face was baring down on hers as he spoke, hands folded behind his back. He was waiting for her.

Clarice stared with wide eyes for a moment before shaking her head again, "I don't feel well, and we need-"

"To Talk?"

She nodded, turning her head to stare back at the bottle in her hands, "I take it you've already accepted my condition, then?" Clarice said gently, she had the feeling Hannibal was avoiding the subject as much as he wasn't, which, though confused her, made her cautious and careful with her words.

"I wondered when you would, Clarice."

Clarice didn't look at him, instead she opened the bottle and popped one of the vitamins into her mouth. She didn't like how he just let her come to terms with the situation by herself, she had no idea how he really felt about it and possibilities might have been upsetting. Only now did she realize that he was both well aware, and, in his own way, content with it.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"You needed to be honest with yourself, Clarice, understand that popping pain pills and pretending to have a fever wouldn't make it go away. You needed to stop struggling with the perception of being pregnant."

Pregnant. Not only the most beautiful word known to man, but the most rotten as well. Clarice cringed a bit at its sound, Hannibal had said it ever-so-slightly breathless, and though he held his composure, she could see the faint gleam in his maroon eyes. He wasn't just content, he was pleased.

Leaning forward over her crossed legs, she sighed, "and you aren't upset?"

Hannibal moved silently to the bed and sat down beside her with a small, amused smile, then lifted his hand to shift a tress of hair from her face. "It was expected," he mused gently, "we aren't altogether 'safe' about our intimacy now are we?" When Clarice smiled slightly he continued, "no, Clarice, I could not be upset with you about something that I contributed to without considering the consequences. Its not as if you chose to go behind my back and make this happen."

Clarice's head shot up and she stared at him for a moment, "you're not with me, but are you upset about the pregnancy?"

Hannibal smiled again, "no, I daresay I'm not upset in the least. Does this concern you Clarice? Do you fear for why I don't squirm underneath the same stress you do concerning the matter?"

Analyzing her again. It seemed no matter how long they remained together, he could never stop doing that.

Clarice shrugged, "I don't understand it, that's all. I never expected it of you to want this."

"Hmm," he started, "you underestimate me Clarice, you forget that I am as human as you, that there are things I share with you as a human and that I am capable of loving things other then you."

Clarice opened her mouth to retaliate, but stopped, he was right, she didn't consider what she had come to understand about him, she thought only of what she saw regularly. Thinking now, she knew why exactly he was pleased; this was another chance to bring Mischa's memory back. Seeing as he had failed to create his sister in Clarice, what better way to give Mischa her place back on earth then through birth, this time he would be able to protect her. The thought was a bit disheartening, that Mischa was still what made the world turn for him, that it wasn't so much sharing a child with her as it was about Mischa's resurrection.

Hannibal kissed Clarice's forehead and stood up, "come on now," he mused, "you need to eat." He waited for her again.

Clarice smiled faintly and stood up, swaying a little from dizziness. Instinctively she took Hannibal's hand and let him lead her down the stairs. She wondered whether she should bring up all of her doubts, the ones about rising such a child, about his morbid interest in bringing Mischa back from the dead. She thought she had swayed him away from this regret, but the pregnancy must have gave him a new hope.

Letting him lead her still, she decided she would bring up her concerns after she eat, that is if she didn't throw up immediately after.