Intermission

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. If I did I would die of happiness. But I don't. All hail Thomas Harris.

Rating: K+

Spoilers: Hannibal Rising and Hannibal, the books.

The air in Buenos Aires was warm and thick. It held Hannibal and Clarice like a homemade quilt as they listened to the exquisite outdoor concert being performed. The Boston Philharmonic was visiting from the States.

To be openly seen at such an event was a calculated risk. The FBI's most recent picture was still two faces behind. However, Clarice's appearance was less altered then his. But one must never underestimate the power of persona. Clarice's outlook, her clothes, her tastes, her walk, her voice, the way she stood and spoke, all had been improved under Hannibal's careful direction and care. If her own dear father were still alive, Hannibal was confident he would walk right past her on a crowded street.

Besides, Clarice was the reason they were here. He had known six months in advance the band was coming. But it was two months ago she had mentioned to Hannibal, over breakfast, a new wing she was creating in her memory palace, right next to the Hall of Justice.

"A music hall" she explained amidst buttering her bagel. "It's coming along all right. But there are many design flaws."

"Flaws?" Hannibal was carefully monitoring the progress and construction of her memory palace. It was the best way to know what her inner most thoughts were these days.

"I do not have many memories I suppose."

Hannibal had bought tickets for the concert the next day.

Now they sat, Clarice supported against his lean chest as she listened, enjoyment evident on her face. Her legs were partially covered with an afghan; they sat upon another, carefully protected from the grass and dirt.

Physically Dr. Lecter looked and was perfectly relaxed. One arm was round Clarice's waist, holding her to him. The other held a glass of wine he had brought for their enjoyment. Mentally, as always, he was alert. He was aware of the many people in the crowd, how many he knew, how many he didn't and who, if any, were paying them undue attention. He surreptitiously scanned the crowd for law enforcement, plains clothes or otherwise, and while half of him was listening to the melodious perfection, the other half was listening for the tell tale sign of radio static.

Nothing.

Hannibal smiled. He allowed himself a deep breath, wanting to capture Clarice's scent. He immediately inhaled a menagerie of aromas. The grass, the wine he was drinking, smoke carried on the wind some a local barbeque, various perfumes and colognes of other patrons, the oils the musicians used on their instruments, but by far Clarice scent of mint and jasmine was most prominent. And yet…he frowned. Something was not right. Something in the cocktail of odours was off. What was it?

Was it danger?

He breathed in again and won a smile from Clarice, who thought he was breathing her in. She tilted her head back to kiss his chin and that's when he realised what it was that had troubled him.

Oranges and gardenias.

It was faint to be sure. Fainter then the oils even. But it was there, and Dr. Lecter felt the scent hover around him, at once holding him in place and simultaneously calling him out. Yet he stayed silent and still, perfectly relaxed until intermission. When he left Clarice chatting with some acquaintance seated nearby and followed this scent away from the crowd, down an embankment to a river. It flowed quiet and unobtrusive. Local flora added colour to the picture. It was late in the evening and already the sun was beginning to set. Red and orange splashed against a twlighting sky. Hannibal stood, arms at his sides looking at the water. He waited.

Lady Murasaki walked up behind him and stood a few yards away. When he did not turn she came closer and stood beside and away from him. She also looked out at the water. She wore a long flowered dress, in her hair were gardenias.

Hannibal wanted to keep observing the river, but to do so now would be rude. So he turned and acknowledged Lady Murasaki with a low bow. But it was she who spoke first.

"You are angry with me."

"No." Hannibal replied calmly. "In fact I am delighted to see you." She looked the exact same as she had when he was eighteen. "Why would you believe me angry?"

"You've changed Hannibal."

This statement could mean many things. Hannibal carefully considered his response. "Altering my appearance was necessary."

"Yes I know. I read the papers. You are angry with me."

"Why do you believe that?"

"Because I left you."

"You went home. I understood. How did you recognize me?"

"I raised you Hannibal. I know you. I recognized you. It wasn't difficult."

"You did much more then raise me." He now tried to catch her eye; she stubbornly stared out at the water.

"Yes I know. And for that I have never been able to forgive myself."

"There is nothing to forgive." Hannibal took a step closer to her, and she took a step back.

"Who is she Hannibal?"

Hannibal felt the slightest of pressure on the back of his skull. "Whom?"

"The girl. The one with the emeralds. I have been observing you two since the concert began. I want to know who she is." Lady Murasuki took a seat on a large bolder. As if her longer speech had exhausted her. She at last looked up at him.

Hannibal, the last of his line, noted psychiatrist, genius and serial killer considered his response. He had been telling the truth, he was delighted to see Lady Murasaki. But he also had not fully derived her intentions. He had no qualms about killing this beautiful woman who had meant so much to him, but wanted to avoid it if at all possible. If for nothing else, this was far to public a venue.

"Merely an acquaintance of mine. She delights in my company and is refreshing conversation."

"You are lying to me."

"I do not lie."

"Yet you lie now Hannibal. You lie for this girl. You lie to me. She is far more then an acquaintance. She is your companion, your partner, she is your Mischa." She said the name with hot feeling, something akin to jealousy, only more refined.

Hannibal held himself perfectly still. He did not move towards or away from his lady. Merely tilted his head and locked his maroon eyes with her black ones. Her blood ran cold.

"She is not my Mischa. My sister is dead. She exists only within my memories, where she is safe and unmolested. And I warn you Lady Murasaki not to confuse the issue again."

Lady Murasaki steeled herself. Forced herself not to see the dangerous man before her. But the boy she had left behind. This helped her not to be afraid as she rose and came closer.

"Then who is she?

Dr. Lecter said nothing.

Lady Murasaki looked at him for a long time. "The papers said there was a woman that went missing when you escaped from Mason Verger. A F.B.I. agent. She had an elegant name. Dove. Or sparrow …"

"Starling." Hannibal filled in, not knowing why.

"Yes. That was it. Starling. Agent Clarice Starling. You worked with her on a case while you were incarcerated. Then later she went missing from the Verger farm. Is that who you are with Hannibal? Agent Starling?"

"Agent Starling is dead." Hannibal said smoothly. "I happened upon her while I was escaping the farm. She wanted to re-arrest me. I could not allow that."

"What did you do with the body? They never found one."

"What do I think I did with it Lady Murasaki?"

She closed her eyes for the briefest of moments. When they opened, they were filled with tears. It affected Dr. Lecter more then he liked. He spoke again.

"I can make a place for you here Lady Murasaki. I can allow you into this life I have. It will take time. But it can be done."

"No Hannibal it will not be done. I return to Japan the day after tomorrow. I re-married some time ago."

"Yes I know, I also read the papers. Congratulations. My offer still stands."

"No Hannibal. I will return to Japan."

Now Hannibal took a step closer to his lady. "And what will you say when you arrive in Japan?"

"Nothing Hannibal. I will say nothing. As I have always done. As I always will."

With that she closed the remaining space between them and kissed Hannibal's cheek. It was soft and full of longing. She placed her hand over his heart and raised her eyed to his. "I loved you Hannibal." Then quickly she turned and headed away from him, following the curve of the river. Hannibal watched her until she was but a speck in his vision. Then she was gone, leaving behind only the scent of oranges and gardenias.

A bell clanged a little distance away. Intermission was nearly over. Hannibal proceeded back to his afghan blanket. Back to Clarice. She had finished her conversation and had substituted his lean frame with the tree under which they were sheltered. She sipped her wine and Dr. Lecter stopped a few yards shy of her. Staring.

Her smile was enticing and full of contentment. "See anything you like?"

"You are my masterpiece."

Clarice blinked. That was the last thing she was expecting him to say. But he was still staring. And there was something in his voice and demeanour that told Clarice not to dismiss what he had said. So she stood, shook out her silk skirt and went to him. She placed her hands on his chest. He instantly grabbed one and placed it over his heart. "What's wrong?" she desperately wanted to use his name, but there were too many people around.

"Not a thing. I just wanted you to know who and what you are to me. I have never clearly stated it." Clarice looked as of she was going to say something, but he continued before she could. "There was once someone in my life, who helped me become who and what I am today. But … this person …could not accept me. I promise to never visit that upon you."

He then closed his lips and led Clarice back to their spot on the grass. Pulling her to him, he once again took up his wine. Clarice looked up at him for a few moments, clearly puzzled. But seeing as he was not going to provide any further information, she slowly re-focused her attention on the stage.

And after a few moments, the music began playing again.

The End