Twenty-four hours later, Clarice opened the French doors leading out to the balcony of their hotel in Buenos Aires. She smelled the warm night air and tried to get used to the idea of this being their new home. She might never enter the United States again. She had left it all behind for a killer.

That morning had been awkward. Both of them waking up to realize what had happened. Clarice was still not used to the idea. Her doubts plagued her mind. Could she ever love him? She was intrigued by his mind, enamored by his intelligence, but could she ever love him?

Her heart nearly stopped every time they had passed a security guard or cop at the airport, always expecting someone to recognize them. Would this be the rest of her life?

Standing on the balcony now alone, taking in a few precious moments before Hannibal would inevitably return. He was meeting with some real estate agents.

At first he suggested a room with two beds, or a suite with two separate rooms, but Clarice insisted on having a cover story of being a couple to make it less suspicious. It would seem Hannibal, one of the most notorious serial killers ever to walk the earth, was still afraid of committing to a shared bed. He claimed it was out of respect for her, but she highly doubted it.

The view from their hotel room was beautiful of course. The entire hotel suite was perfect for a honeymoon. But she had no idea what the two of them were, or how she should act around him.

He said he would be gone a while so she drew a bath and soaked for a decent amount of time. She couldn't remember the last time she had a bath. She just never seemed to have the time for it. Now she had all the time in the world. It was hard for her to relax. She hardly ever went on vacation. She would have to find some kind of hobbies to take up her time or she would go crazy.

Eventually she heard the door open, heard his steady footsteps through the room. She heard the rustle of papers, a chair moving. He was up to something. She got out of the bath, dried herself off and put on a black, satin robe.

"Are you hungry?" He didn't look up from his papers. "The hotel staff suggested a new restaurant not far from here. There's a dress on the bed. I want you to wear it."

Clarice saw the dress. It was dark green, tight, short but airy. She had never owned anything this beautiful.

"Thank you."

He didn't look up as she went back to the bathroom to put it on.

When she came out, her dress half zipped she found him standing on the balcony. He turned to see her and smiled not with his lips, but with his eyes. He was pleased.

"Will you zip it in the back?"

"Certainly."

She turned around and his hands found the zipper, pulled it up slowly while his fingers traced her spine. For a moment he breathed in the scent of her hair and rubbed the back of her neck.

"You look exquisite, my little Starling." He whispered in her ear and her body broke out in goose bumps.

He took her by the arm and they left the hotel room.

"I hope you like it here." He said, after they had returned to their hotel room. They had barely spoken. On their walk to the restaurant he would point out things and tell her the history. He taught her few words in Spanish. She would have to begin studying Spanish if she wanted to make a life here.

He opened a bottle of rare Argentinean wine he had bought on the way home and poured her a glass. She took a sip of he wine.

"It's beautiful here. It's different than anywhere I've ever lived."

"Do you miss home?"

"This is home now. Or so I tell myself."

"Clarice, about last night…I was so..forward. It was not very gentlemanly of me."

"Look, I don't know what we are or what we're doing. All I know is, for those years you were gone I wondered where you were, what you were doing, who you were killing. Why you didn't kill me?"

"I could never hurt you, Clarice."

"Why?"

"Because you're special. You never spoke to me like I was a crazy man locked in prison. You spoke to me as a human. An intelligent human at that. You showed me respect. You showed promise. You were beautiful in mind and body. I thought if I could have a small piece of you in my heart I would find peace within myself."

"I don't know if I can love you, Hannibal."

"I'm not asking for you love, Clarice. Only your respect. But I won't deny that I have thought of you fondly these last seven years. I have dreamt of you, of the day you would be free from the chains of that wretchedness and reach your full potential. I have longed to be a part of your journey. I am here for you, Clarice, any way you want me to be. I am yours."

She ended the conversation by saying nothing further. She was suddenly exhausted. Walking up to him she asked him to unzip the top of her dress. He obliged, once again letting his fingers linger a moment longer than necessary. She disappeared into the bathroom to change into her nightgown. Upon returning he was gone.

They stayed only two more nights at the hotel, each night Clarice would go to bed alone, and Hannibal would be nowhere to be found. If he ever slept he did not make it known to Clarice.

After that, Hannibal moved them into a quaint apartment in the center of town. It had its own garden courtyard, perfectly ready to begin growing fruits and vegetables. For lack of better things to do, Clarice made it her project to grow these things. She spent quite a bit of her time out there, lost in her own world. Despite the car horns on the other side of the wall, she was isolated. Not in a bad way. She was at peace. The sun was warm, her hands were busy. It was a small victory when a month later she had a few tomatoes growing, but it was a victory nonetheless.

Hannibal had started taking in patients using the name Pierre Armistead. They would come to their apartment often and at those times Clarice would hide in their garden. She had no interest in hearing the stories and neuroses of any of his patients. Hannibal didn't feel it necessary to introduce her to his patients. They kept those two worlds separate. But Clarice figured his clients were wealthy people. Mostly business men with too much stress. Even though Hannibal only had a few patients, he made enough to support his well-to-do lifestyle.

Despite the fact that they were living together, Clarice spent most of her time avoiding him. Hannibal was keenly aware of this, but he didn't pursue her because he understood that she had inner workings to deal with on her own. After an appointment he would often come out to the garden, as the sun was nearing the horizon, and sit on the bench and watch her work. Sometimes she would ask him to pass her a tool, or seeds of some kind, or hold this stalk just so. He would oblige quietly, silently observe her. He watched her pale skin slowly bronze, her hair streaked by the sun.

"What would you like for dinner?"

Without looking up from her trowel she said "You know I'm not picky."

"I was thinking about making butternut squash soup followed by some veal but I think we're out of milk."

"I can run to the store if you'd like. Do we need anything else?" She was already wiping her hands on her dirty jeans.

"Eggs perhaps."

"Milk and eggs, are you sure there is nothing else?"

"I think that is all."

"All right, start cooking and I'll be back in a few."

He remained seated on the bench a few minutes longer even after she had walked out the front door. Her scent remained among the flowers she was planting.

She had walked down to this corner market many times. Sometimes she pretended there was something she needed just to have an excuse to leave the house. The first twinkle of stars was beginning. She breathed in the cool, night air slowly creeping in.

She bought the milk and eggs, speaking through broken Spanish. Back on the street she was distracted and walking at a comfortable pace. She was so lost in thought that she didn't notice the group of three scraggly men standing on the street corner at the opening to a dark alley.

One of the men said something to her but her Spanish wasn't quite experienced enough to understand. She ignored them. This angered the men and one of them proceeded to grab her. Instinctively she grabbed his fingers and pulled them back to try to pry them off her arm. However, one of the other men grabbed her from the waist and began dragging her towards the dark alley. She started kicking and screaming, the third man punched her in the chest and knocked the wind out of her.

She continued to struggle, kicking her legs at them, the biggest of the men pulled at her shirt trying to rip it off. Her hand landed on a sharp object, a piece of a cinder block. She picked it up and smashed it over the head of the smaller man to her left as he came down to grab at her chest.

A hand came and slapped her across the face with such force her vision went black for a second. At that same moment she noticed her pants being pulled down. She felt the weight of one of the men descend on her. He was heavy and laughing. The only word she understood was "puta".

At that, she had enough. She found the man's face and plunged her fingers as deeply as possible into his eyes even as he screamed and pulled away. Blood gushed onto her face below. She kicked him in the groin and got up as quickly as possible. The other two men came at her; she dodged one punch and threw him head first into a wall. When she looked towards the opening to the alley, Hannibal stood there. He was watching her. In that moment she was distracted enough for the other man to grab her and throw her to the ground and start kicking her.

After two solid kicks in the chest, Clarice heard the man gasp and heard the sound of his body hitting the wall behind her. She looked up and saw Hannibal choking him.

"Let him go, Hannibal." She croaked out, every word sending pain through her ribs.

"Please…let them go."

She watched as his hands loosened from the man's neck.

"Get out of here. Take your friends with you. If I ever see you again you will wish you hadn't."

Hannibal bent down to pick her up but she stopped him, "No, I can stand."

He took her hand and pulled her up putting his arm around her and led her back home.

Once through the door she pushed him away from her, sat down on the bench in the entranceway and said, "You saw the whole thing, didn't you?"

He said nothing.

"You watched those men try to rape me."

"You didn't need me, Clarice."

"Did you hire them? Did you ask me to go out to the store so they could jump me and you could watch as a gang of men beat the shit out of me?"

"No, Clarice. I did no such thing. But I heard you scream, even from here. I went to the street and saw the bag of groceries and then I saw you, fighting for your life. I couldn't intervene. You would never have forgiven me if you came to depend on me. You don't want to be in debt to me. I understand that. I only intervened because I distracted you and put you in a bad position. I won't deny that I enjoyed it, Clarice. I was right when I said you are a warrior."

"What if they had killed me?"

"They were no match for you."

"You were going to kill them."

"Yes, I wanted to very much. I would have, for you, Clarice. I would have killed them for what they did to you."

"And then eaten them?"

"No, they smelled of sickness and disease. I have standards, Clarice."

She stood up, her whole body screaming in protest. He saw her wince.

"Let me check your wounds."

"No offense, but get the fuck out of my way." She said, moving down the hallway, touching the wall for support. She made her way to the bath room and shut the door.

He heard the water turn on. Heard her climb into the tub. Faintly, ever so faintly, beneath the sound of the water running, he heard her sob.

He knocked on the door. No response. He knocked louder.

"GO AWAY!" She screamed.

He heard the pain in her voice. The vulnerability.

He turned the knob but the door was locked. He kicked the door open.

Clarice was lying in the large, claw foot tub with all her clothes on. Dirt, blood and grime washed onto the sides of the beautiful, white porcelain tub. She was in the fetal position. Her hands over her face.

Hannibal went to the side of the tub and climbed in behind her. The water was almost hot enough to burn skin. He pulled the wet hair out of her face and noticed a deep bruise on her right wrist. Guilt swept over him suddenly, conquering him. For the first time he wondered if maybe he was wrong.

"Clarice, I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry." He kissed the side of her face that was visible. Kissed it over and over again. He kissed her hands, her arms, shoulders, back of the neck anything he could reach with his lips. Her body tense underneath him.

"I'm tired of being your experiment. I'm tired of your tests. If you want to love me, Hannibal, just love me." She said through her hands.

"You're right. You're absolutely right. I love you. More than anything, Clarice. I never want to see you in pain. It's because you're so strong that I love you. It's because you've never really needed me. You will always be fine on your own. But I need you. I've always needed you. You were the view when there was none. You were the sunlight when I had no windows. You are my window to the outside world."

She turned her head around and looked him in the eyes. He was crying. She never thought it was possible for Hannibal Lector to cry. She turned her body around in the tub to face him. Putting her head on his chest, his hand caressed her hair. She heard his heart beat. He was indeed human after all.

"Let me look at your wounds."

"OK."

He lifted her out of the tub and followed her. He turned the shower off and she began to undress. Taking her wet jeans off was difficult and painful, so he helped her. Then she pulled off her shirt and stood in front of him with only underwear and a bra on.

He touched her ribs, deep purple bruises were forming. He touched them, inspected them. He had her eyes follow his fingers. He asked her to breathe in and out while he listened to her lungs.

"Nothing broken. Looks like you are going to be fine."

They stood facing each other. He stared right at the bruise on the left side of her rib cage. She stared at the floor, feeling his gaze.

"Would it be forward of me to ask if I can kiss you?"

"I think we're past that point." She said.

The corner of his lip turn up ever so slightly. He took her hand and kissed the bruised part of her wrist. So softly. It felt like butterflies landing on her skin. Then he knelt and kissed the bruise on her rib cage. He kissed the bruise on her back, and made his way up her spine. He felt her body melt into him. He held her against the wet clothes on his body, felt her shiver. Her body went limp, and he lifted her up. He carried her into her bedroom and gently laid her onto the bed. He covered her with a blanket.

She grabbed his hand and said, "Don't leave."

"I was going to get you some ice to help the swelling."

"Forget it. Just stay."

He looked down at her. He couldn't resist her plea. She had such power over him and she didn't even know it. Since it was her hour of weakness, he figured it might as well be his hour also. She was his weakness. Sometimes he couldn't stand how much he wanted to please her, how much he fantasized about her accepting him completely.

He let go of her hand so he could unbutton his wet shirt. She watched him. Her eyes remained on his. Never deviating. Even as he removed his soaked pants and let them fall to the floor. She moved over in bed so he could join her under the covers. She turned over and felt his strong arms encase her. Felt his nose breathe in her hair. That was the last thing she remembered before falling asleep.

He muttered things under his breath. Twitched oddly. She couldn't make out his words. Something plagued his dreams. She thought she heard the name Mischa.

Clarice crept out of bed.

"Where are you going?"

"To the garden."

"Not today. You stay in bed and recover. The doctor said so."

"Why bother telling me, you know I'll do it anyway."

He smiled, almost showing teeth, but not quite.

"I have something for you. If you're as resistant to stay in bed and heal as you say you are, I'll give you what I was planning on giving you today."

She got dressed in a simple long sleeved dress to cover up her bruises and sandals. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear before he opened the door to the outside and helped her to get into the cab.

Twenty minutes later they were out of town and Clarice was looking through the windows.

"Where are we going?" There was excitement in her voice, the kind Hannibal had never heard before. It was the sound of a lost part of her youth returning and it imbued her with a newfound sense of magic and wonder. Hannibal's eyes lit up in response.

"Here we are. "

They got out of the cab and Clarice hopped out knowing exactly why he had brought her here.

There was a stable, a field and a few farmhouses over looking a beach to the east. She walked right to the fence where horses ran and played jauntily.

He walked up behind her, put his hand on her shoulder and pointed.

"You see the white one over there?"

"Yes, she's beautiful."

"She's yours. You can come here and ride her any time you wish. I know you would like to ride her today, but you are still recovering. But, you can still feed her and talk with her, build a nice rapport."

"Thank you, Hannibal." Her eyes watered and he turned her to face him.

"No need to cry, my Starling. Have you thought of a name?"

"Ardelia."

"That's a fine name." He smiled and kissed her forehead.

The stable owner opened the gate for her and she went in. She walked right up to Ardelia and began petting her, speaking to her. The animal nudged her hand with her nose and took a sugar cube out of her other hand. The animal was instantly drawn to Clarice and it delighted Hannibal instantly. He could stand there watching Clarice enjoy the beauty and grace of that horse and simultaneously enjoy Clarice's beauty and grace for the rest of his life and be fulfilled.

She caught him staring and smiled. She invited him into the yard and he joined her beside the horse.

"Thank you, Hannibal."

"It's me who must thank you. You've made me a happy man, Clarice."

She looked him in the eyes, concern washing over her face.

"I don't know what exactly happened to make you the way you are, I don't know what horrible things were done to you, someday when you're ready to tell me the whole story, I will listen and try to understand."

"I would very much appreciate it."

"All I know is that this man standing in front of me is not the same man I first met in that prison cell all those years ago. You are not a monster, just a child that lost its way."

"Ah yes, but now I've found it. And it's right here." He put a hand on her chest, felt her beating heart.

She kissed him gently on the lips and said, "Let's go home."