I am standing in the doorway of a bedroom. In front of me is a young girl with big blue eyes and gold hair who walks toward me.

She calls me 'mommy'. I lift her into my arms and smile at her. I don't remember yesterday with her. But I've known her since the day she was born. I hear a man's voice.

"Amelia!"

The little girl's ears perk up and she wriggles in my arms. I put her down.

"Francesca!" the man's voice shouts again. I turn and follow the girl down a flight of stairs into an empty room. Empty, except for a wooden chair facing away from me. The man is sitting, looking out a window. The girl, Amelia, rushes over to him and stands near his right arm. He reaches out to her and laughs, murmuring something in her ear. She turns away, smiling and runs past me.

I turn to look where she's going. Nothing is there, just fuzzy blackness.

I approach the back of the chair cautiously.

"Francesca…" he says again, more quietly.

It's his voice. I swear it. I reach out and touch his shoulder, "Yes."

His hand touches mine. It's cold. I quickly spin in front of him. I can't see his face. My eyes won't let me see his face. His hands though. They're older than mine. The man stands. The man with his voice and hands.

Suddenly, his lips are against mine. It's a kiss that I can only feel in my lips. I don't know where I am. I don't feel…anything but his lips.

After he pulls away, I look away from him.

I'm frightened.

He asks me a question. I don't hear it.

"What?"

He keeps speaking to me in a muffled voice that I can't hear. "What?" I ask again.

I fall forward into his arms. Suddenly, he's not there, no one to catch me. I'm starting to fall into deep blue water. I plunge in. It doesn't feel different.

I can breathe.

Francesca woke up with sweat dripping across her forehead. Her heart was racing and her hands were clenched into two fists. She sat up, realizing that she wasn't breathing. Taking in a deep breath, she relaxed and felt her hands retract.

She was shivering. Francesca hadn't noticed that until now. "Jesus," she murmured as she pulled the comforter up around her shoulders. Her stomach was gurgling. Maybe I'm just hungry…

As she got up off of the bed, her head began to swim, and there was a pain behind her eyes. Francesca let out a breath and reached out for the wall to lean on.

Then, there was a knock at the door. Francesca lifted her head and stumbled to the door. "Just a moment," she drawled in the French accent which she found hard to muster in the middle of the night. Upon opening the door, she squinted. The light was unbearable.

Hannibal stood on the other side of the door, "You okay?"

"Why are you here?" she grimaced, stepping back into the darkness.

"I wanted to talk to you," he lowered his head. "May I come in?"

Francesca closed her eyes, "Yeah, sure."

Hannibal walked in and closed the door behind him. He reached for the light switch on the wall near him and flipped it on. Hearing Francesca's anguished cry, he turned it back off. "What's going on?" he walked into the room to find her leaning against the wall, reaching for the bathroom.

"I feel awful," she choked out.

"I know…I'm to blame I realize…" Hannibal said, obliviously.

"No," she shook her head, holding out her hand. "I feel sick…like I'm…uh-" Francesca put her hand over her mouth and pushed past him into the bathroom. She vomited into the toilet, wrenching her neck in the process. Her breath caught in her throat.

Hannibal turned into the bathroom and found her bent over the toilet, heaving breaths, waiting for more. He knelt down beside her and pulled some hair out of her face. Francesca looked at him askance and reaching to flush the toilet, "Anyway, you wanted to talk."

"You feeling alright?" Hannibal said quietly. He couldn't see her face well, but he was almost sure that she had a frown on her face.

"I feel like I'm getting an ice pick lobotomy while being strangled. How do you think I feel?" she replied dryly, staring into the toilet.

Hannibal laughed, his hand hesitantly travelling down her back, "Well, I wanted to apologize for what happened earlier."

Francesca heaved again. He felt a little helpless just pulling the hair out of her face. When she finished, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, "Thanks, I guess."

"But I can't help but wonder why you still have a picture of him," Hannibal continued.

She glared at him and flushed the toilet again, "I'm not still in love with him, if that's what you're insinuating."

"Why, then, do you have that picture?" he asked her.

Francesca swallowed, "I…don't know." Her head began to swell with dizziness again and she bent over, "Oh my God…"

He gasped quietly upon a realization, "Are you pregnant?"

"No!" she spat back and pushed his chest back with her hand. Then, Francesca lifted her head and smiled at him, "Idiot."

They both laughed. She shook her head, roaring with laughter, "I haven't had sex in seven months!"

Hannibal leaned back on the bathtub, resting his hands between his legs, howling with laughter, "Could you imagine? You'd be traipsing around avoiding being killed and…I can't…"

As odd as it was to be laughing at this, it was a strange concept to both of them. Their lives had been dedicated to helping America, not to families. Plus, it was the middle of the night and they both were slap happy.

"I'm going to throw up again," Francesca tried to stop laughing as she bent over the toilet.

Flashback

"So what have you done with Miss Barrett?" Morrison teased Hannibal.

Hannibal pursed his lips, "Its all business."

"Please," Morrison rolled his eyes. "I know that you've been with someone, but I never knew who. Until now."

"How do you know?" he looked to him with worried and embarrassed eyes.

"I didn't. But now…you just confirmed it," Morrison smiled smugly. "Now-"

Hannibal looked away, angry that he hadn't even noticed the stunt Morrison had pulled until it was over.

"How is she?"

"How is she…what does that mean?"

Raising an eyebrow, the general elbowed Hannibal in the ribs, "You know what a mean."

"Oh my God! Since when have you become such an animal?" he replied, trying to hold back a slight smile.

"Well, come on," he shrugged. "I'm your friend and we're guys. You can tell me all about it."

"Uh…" Hannibal bit his lip. "She's great…fantastic."

Morrison laughed boldly, "Of course she is, she's much younger than you."

"You're just jealous," he chuckled.

"Well, now you are," he gestured toward the couple who now sat at the bar, drinking. "Of the young Casanova."

"No, I'm not," Hannibal said unsurely.

Meanwhile, Francesca was listening to a story that was not so entertaining. Henry was drawling on about business, something Francesca was not superbly interested in at the moment. She finished her drink quickly and took him by the hand, "Why don't we dance?"

"Oh, I'm not really a dancer," Henry stalled.

She started to pull him off of the bar, "Come on. I'll make it worth your while."

In Francesca's mind, that meant a kiss. In his, it meant sex. Henry jumped forward, "Well, if you insist."

They walked out onto the dance floor where many people were mingling and swaying side to side to a Portuguese ballad. Francesca slipped one of her hands onto Henry's right shoulder put the other in his left hand. "So you know Colonel Smith?" Henry asked her as they joined the swaying couples.

"Oh, yes," she replied nervously. "We've met a few times."

"I guess through your brother," Henry reasoned. "I don't know…"

"What?" Francesca frowned.

"Nothing," Henry lowered his head as they danced a little longer.

Francesca looked over his shoulder every so often to catch a glimpse of Hannibal talking to Morrison. More than once did their eyes meet and when they did, Francesca couldn't help but blush. Henry and Francesca danced a little longer before his cell phone went off. He jerked away, slipping his phone out of his pocket.

"I thought you were going to turn that off," she bit her lip, crossing her arms.

"I'm sorry," Henry looked up at her quickly. "I have to take this." He then turned, pressing the phone to his head, and walked off into a sea of people. Francesca stood alone for a moment before receiving a tap on the shoulder. She turned, finding Hannibal standing in front of her. "Oh, you startled me," she smiled meekly.

"Where'd your date go?" Hannibal raised an eyebrow.

"He had to take a call," Francesca sighed. "Um…so what are you doing here?"

"Morrison dragged me."

She giggled, "I figured you wouldn't come here voluntarily."

"You figured right," Hannibal smiled back at her.

Francesca pursed her lips and looked around them. She felt like a roadblock to all the dancers. "Do you want to dance?" she asked him, clasping her hands behind her back.

That's the question he had been waiting for. "Of course, but won't your date be jealous?"

"I honestly couldn't care less at this point," Francesca grabbed his hand.

Hannibal chuckled and nodded, "Right." They assumed a dancing position as the music began to switch.

You must remember this.

A kiss is just a kiss, a sigh is just a sigh.

Francesca's eyes met his. They were both very quiet.

The fundamental things apply
As time goes by.

As they turned, Hannibal could see Morrison giving him a thumbs up. He had been the one to coax Hannibal to approach Francesca. It had only been luck that Henry Soto had scurried away to take a call. "So we're back to where we started," Francesca whispered, pressing herself closer to Hannibal.

He tightened his grip on her waist in response, "I see."

"You know? At Tommy's wedding?" she said, reminiscing. "How do you like Rio?"

"I haven't really seen much of it. But it's beautiful from the view here," Hannibal looked over his shoulder quickly.

"Oh, that's a shame," Francesca frowned. "It is beautiful."

It's still the same old story
A fight for love and glory

"You know that I'll have to leave you when your date returns…"
A case of do or die.

"I know."

The world will always welcome lovers…

"Are we still…can we still…" Hannibal tried to formulate the right words.

As time goes by…

"Yes," Francesca smiled sweetly. "We can still have sex. I am unattached."

"As weird and unromantic as that sounds."

"Well, it's not really about romance, is it?"

Hannibal lowered his face toward hers, their lips lingering near each other, but not touching, "Maybe not, but I want you to keep coming back."

Suddenly, he pulled back as Henry appeared in sight. "I'll see you later then," Hannibal blushed.

"Oh," Francesca's face fell. "Right, I'll see…you."

Hannibal turned and walked away from her through the darting people back to Morrison.

Henry came up behind Francesca, putting his hands on her shoulders, "Alright. I'm all yours now."

She didn't take her eyes off of Hannibal, "Great."

Oh yes, the world will always welcome lovers,
As time goes by.

Hannibal looked back slowly. Their eyes met. Something changed in him. He felt different. He didn't know why. This same change had taken place in Francesca only a few months earlier. But she knew exactly what it was.

End Flashback

Francesca and Hannibal were silent for a little bit of time before she spoke, "Airline food always does this to me. Why don't I ever learn my lesson?"

Hannibal smiled at her.

"Well, anyway," she folded her hands in her lap. "To answer your question…that picture." Francesca took a deep breath, pain building up in the front of her head, "That was taken by a friend of mine early in our relationship. You know…the honeymoon phase. And I was just going to leave him. I was walking out on him. He knew and he gave me the picture to remind me."

"The note."

"Exactly," she wistfully replied. "But I don't still love him. I keep the picture because then I know what it's like to be loved. With the picture, I can remember it." She lifted her head to look at Hannibal. "Doesn't that sound pathetic?"

He felt heartbroken. Francesca didn't know what love felt like. Or at least she couldn't remember. "What about Mel? The kids?"

"I guess I mean romantic love," Francesca bit her lip. "When you feel like you would die without them." She looked to him, feeling her stomach lurch, "I know that sounds dumb." Tears welled in her eyes, "Shit, I cry all of the time."

Hannibal looked at her like a man would look at a lost child. He reached out to her and wrapped his arms around her. Francesca buried her face in his collar.

"You're not dumb," he murmured, resting his cheek on her head. "Honest."

"You don't want to hug me, I'll vomit all over you," Francesca whimpered into his chest.

"I don't care," he clung to her.

Francesca felt warm in his grasp. Not oddly placed. "I guess I never asked, John," she lifted her head a little. "Is there anyone?"

"What?"

She pursed her lips, "Do you have someone you love?"

"Oh, no," Hannibal wanted to say yes, but then she'd ask more about her. And he'd have to tell her it was, in fact, herself.

"Do you want to love someone?"

"I mean…that wouldn't be the worst thing in the world," he replied.

Slithering out of his arms, Francesca wiped tears out of her eyes. She reached up to the sink and got toothpaste and a toothbrush from her toiletry bag. Brushing her teeth, she smiled at Hannibal, the foam cresting her lips. Tears still poured down her face.

"You want to love someone," he continued.

She nodded, still brushing.

Hannibal extended his legs across the floor, intertwining them with Francesca's unintentionally. She stopped at that moment and looked at them. His long legs were warm against her bare ones. Then, she went on her knees to spit into the sink. After swishing water around her mouth, she went back to her position on the floor. Francesca started shivering again. The chills were the scariest part of the sickness. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to get warmer.

"Let's get you back into bed," Hannibal said quietly, standing.

"I d-don't want to g-get up-p-p," Francesca chattered.

He bent down and sighed, "I won't make you." Hannibal put his arms beneath her and lifted her as if he was to carry her across the threshold on their honeymoon. Francesca put both of her arms around his neck. After carrying her back into the room, Hannibal set her down gently onto the bed.

Francesca smiled awkwardly, teeth clicking in her mouth, "Th-Thank you." She reached out, bringing some of the covers up to her neck. "S-so c-cold," she managed to giggle before flinching into a fetal position.

In an act of sheer impulse, Hannibal laid on the other side of the bed, "Is this alright?"

Francesca's weary eyes met his and she felt a relief. She scooted closer toward him in a simple gesture that approved. Hannibal did the same, their bodies touching and their faces close together. He wrapped his arms around her to keep her warm. Pressing her head to his chest, Francesca breathed out and started to drift into a coma between sleep and consciousness.

Hannibal stroked her back, remembering the times that he had held her. He hadn't appreciated them enough, he figured. Thoughts ran through his head bout their relationship. Did she reciprocate his feelings? He knew that she flirted, but he didn't know when she was completely serious in her advances.

Only tomorrow would tell, he told himself.

Tomorrow, however, was too far away.