WELCOME BACK FRIENDS!

The flight to Buenos Aires and the journey to the hotel went without incident. Upon check in, Hannibal received his fair share of stares and double takes, but for the most part people were either extremely polite or very cautious in their presence. Some, without being exceedingly obvious moved away from them, giving a very wide berth.

The entire process irritated Clarice and she made mention of it to her husband as soon as they were alone in their suite. Hannibal placed their bags on the end of the bed and opened them so that Clarice could unpack. She paced back and forth between the closet, the chest of drawers and the luggage. Her nervous energy was obvious. Hannibal stepped aside allowing his wife the room to pace back and forth.

"Doesn't it make you angry, H?" Clarice asked as she aggressively opened a garment bag.

Hannibal winced as she manhandled the zipper. "Doesn't what make me angry, Clarice?"

Angrily and showing just the smallest measure of restraint she whipped Hannibal's tuxedo from the bag and carried it to the closet. "How people react when they see you? Jesus! I am so pissed off!"

She slammed the hanger on the closet rod. "Doesn't it make you crazy?"

What makes me crazy is the way you are handling a two thousand dollar tuxedo!

"Not at all…why would it?" Hannibal did not flinch. He was careful not to add his emotions to the mix as he wanted his wife to process what she was feeling. He watched as she moved back to the luggage.

Clarice reached for the Yves Saint Laurent evening gown Hannibal purchased her for the trip. Realizing that it was more expensive than his tuxedo he stepped in and took the dress from the garment bag himself.

"Allow me to handle this for you, Clarice while you sit and relax a moment." He carried the dress to the closet and placed it very delicately beside his tuxedo. He double checked the tuxedo and when he was certain there was no concern, turned toward his wife.

"Please keep in mind that you did not have a choice. I did offer to wear the lenses, after all my eyes are what identify me. Without them I become very nondescript, at which point you would not be experiencing this level of discomfort."

"Why should you have to alter your appearance? It just makes me absolutely crazy! I don't get why it doesn't bother you."

Hannibal stood very calmly in front of his wife. He adored her but found her to be quite perplexing. She allowed herself to be ruled by her emotions at times and pregnant women in particular have wide emotional swings. He was struggling to keep up with her.

Clarice was sitting on the edge of the bed next to the suitcase, fuming. Hannibal removed the luggage and sat beside her. He leaned into her, the full length of their arms touching, and nudged her playfully with his shoulder. He was careful to keep his voice soft and devoid of emotion.

"Clarice, there is nothing that anyone can do, aside from hurting you, that will have any effect on me. Their reactions are just that…theirs. It would be best if you would adopt a similar attitude. People only have power over you to the extent that you yourself allow it. Your response will not change their reactions nor will it alter their perception of me. It is a waste of your time and your emotional energy."

Clarice was still obviously rankled. "When you say that…I know you're right, but I can't help it."

Hannibal placed a hand on her knee seeking to reassure. "In time you will not even notice it, Clarice."

"I might get used to it…I might even accept it, but I'll always notice it." She flopped backward onto the bed. "I'm exhausted. Would you mind if I took a nap before dinner?"

Hannibal nodded. "I think that would be prudent. It's been quite a busy day. Would you mind if I went for a walk while you are sleeping? There is a lovely cemetery not far, La Recoleta. The tombs are quite impressive. Unless it is something you might like to visit it as well? The architecture and sculptures are renowned."

"No, that's okay, H. I'll pass on the cemetery. Dead people aren't my idea of a good time. I don't really care how impressive their tombs are…they're still just as dead. You go stretch your legs. I'll be fine."

Clarice rested on the bed and suddenly, just as Hannibal was preparing to leave, she started to giggle.

Hannibal stopped with his hand still on the door handle. "Is something amusing you, Clarice?"

"I was just imagining you, walking through that cemetery. It's getting late and when the sun starts to set your pupils will dilate. I can just imagine some poor bastard bumping into you with your eyes glowing. You're going to give someone a goddamned heart attack!"

"I am so heartened to be a source of amusement for you, my Love. Enjoy your rest."

"Enjoy the dead people!"

Hannibal walked briskly to the cemetery. The large gate that served as the entrance was in the neo-classical style. Hannibal marveled as he moved through the rows, appearing more like a series of city streets neatly paved, than an actual cemetery.

He searched for quite some time before he came to the tomb he was seeking. It was quite different from the surrounding tombs. Equally grand, but more feminine in appearance there was a statue of a woman wearing a flowing gown. She had her hand resting on a dog. He was reading a poem, La Mia Figlia, written for the deceased girl by her distraught father. As he read, he could feel eyes upon him.

The scent…I know this person.

"Hannibal? Is that you?"

It was a very familiar voice, taking him only a moment to place.

No…not here…not now.

He did not turn around. He stood with his hands still clasped firmly behind his back and spoke softly.

"Yes…hello, Emilia. It has been a very long time."

"It's been far too long, Hannibal. Are you here alone?"

Still he did not turn though he could hear her moving closer to him. Her scent was strong. His eyes closed.

This is not good. This Clarice will not understand.

"Though I am currently alone, I have come to Buenos Aires with my wife, Clarice."

The woman's tone was more than familiar. It was tempting, almost taunting. "So you really are married? I find that extremely hard to believe."

Hannibal's stomach rolled. He could feel the tension rising within him as the pheromone production escalated. "Yes, I am really married and if I am being quite honest. I am not at all concerned how you find it."

She was directly behind him now and placed her hand between his shoulders drawing an index finger down the center of his spine, tracing her nail firmly into his skin. She stopped just below the small of his back. An involuntary shudder moved through him.

Again, a seductive intonation as she posed a question that was far more complex than the five simple words suggested. "How married are you…exactly?" She asked as she continually swirled her index finger into the center of his clasped hands.

Hannibal shrugged his shoulders and released his grip. He turned to face the woman, his cheeks flushed and stated absolutely emphatically. "I am happily married and inexorably committed to my wife."

Again, she closed the distance between them, this time speaking so closely to him that he could feel her breath upon his cheek. "From what I remember…it took more than one woman to keep you satisfied. I believe I was the youngest…by far. You had quite the harem back then, at least from what I've read."

Hannibal stepped back and placed his hands inside the pockets of his pants. He was growing angry and did not want to stand before her with clenched fists. "You cannot believe everything you read, Emilia."

The attractive woman was tall and stately. Her hair was now quite blonde, more so than Hannibal remembered it. He had known her in Baltimore in the late nineteen eighties. She was indeed quite young at the time, perhaps twenty-three or twenty-four though her experience was well beyond her years. She circled him several times winding herself around his body much like a cat winds itself around a person's legs. Her hands brushed over him very suggestively, making no more than a breath of exceedingly intimate contact. As she moved around him, her eyes devoured him. He was extremely agitated and drew in very slow, deep breaths attempting to rein in his autonomic responses as his body betrayed him.

"Well, if I hadn't lived it I'd agree but you can't fool me, Hannibal. Remember…I've had you many, many times. How much of it has your wife been made aware? Or have you kept that from her?"

"If you have read anything about me in the press recently you would know that my wife, Clarice, is an ex-FBI agent. As such, she knows everything there is to know about me. She knows about you, as well Emilia, though not by name…by deed."

"I'm flattered, really." She tantalized.

Hannibal shifted as she leaned into him, her back now against his as she tilted back and whispered over her shoulder.

"Did you give her specifics?"

"There is no intended flattery implied in that statement. If anything, one would think her knowledge of such things would be somewhat of an embarrassment to you. There was no need to give her specifics of our relationship, such as it was as you were extremely specific in your rather salacious descriptions. One would think a woman of your breeding would have shown some self-respect and some…well for lack of a better word, modesty. It was in extremely poor taste."

"Why? Is our lovemaking an embarrassment to you? It didn't seem to be then?"

"We didn't make love, Emilia. We fucked, albeit frequently, but it was about as far removed from love as is humanly possible."

Hannibal stepped forward slowly so that Emilia would not be leaning on him, though not fast enough to cause her to fall. "As I said…that was many years ago. I am in love with my wife...I am a different man."

"Somehow I doubt that. You may have the world fooled, but I've seen you in your natural state. I wouldn't mind seeing that…feeling that again. I'll be around. Give your wife my best."

She brushed her hand over his backside as she departed and slipped something into his pocket.

Before he could process the full ramifications of the interaction his cell phone began to vibrate. His heart began to pound. He reached for it quickly and tapped on the touch screen.

"Pronto." He spoke nervously.

"Turn around you son of a bitch." Clarice snarled, her voice venomous with rage.

Hannibal spun around quickly to see Clarice standing no more than fifty feet away from him, glaring. Without another word she closed her phone, put it into her pocket and walked to him.

Defeated, he did not move. He watched her as she strode aggressively toward him. When she was not more than two feet in front of him, Hannibal opened his mouth to speak. She held a hand up, stopping him.

"Don't bother." Was all she would say.

Hannibal reached for her shoulders. She shrugged him off and reached into the pocket she saw the woman move toward. She pulled something out. It was the key to Emilia's room. She was staying at the very same hotel.

When Clarice looked into Hannibal's eyes, hers were filled with anger and hurt.

Feeling betrayed, Clarice stormed off, utterly destroyed.

Hannibal Lecter's pulse surged above eighty-five.

Until the next chapter, my friends!

LH