Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters except the ones you do not recognize. Please don't sue me as I'm deathly afraid of lawyers and am just a college student trying to get some peace out of writing!

Author's Note: Hello Everyone! I've been away for a while but hopefully I'm back with a vengeance! I didn't think I would have another Dr. Lecter story up so soon, but inspiration knocked me over the head (almost literally) so I had to write. Enjoy and let me know what you guys think. I know this story is going to be pushing some limits…

Chapter One: The Man's Eyes

Dr. Hannibal Lecter was enjoying the Argentinean weather, reading a book on his patio. He owned his own home on Calle San Lucas. The house was the most elegant on the street. Vegetation hid most of it from tourists on the streets but if one were to go through the black rod iron gates, they would peer at an immense house. It was only two stories tall but very wide. It contained 10 rooms, 4 and a half baths, its own Olympic sized swimming pool and guest house. Dr. Lecter, or el Doctor Carerra as he was known, enjoyed his freedom to the fullest extent. He dined at the best restaurants, went to the best operas, mingled with high society, and held his most beautiful possession in his arms every night. Clarice Starling was swimming laps around the pool. It was great exercise and a good substitute to running. She wasn't allowed to run far in the streets since the FBI were still looking for her and the Good Doctor. She wasn't dependent on the drugs the Doctor gave her anymore. She had her personality and will back. Clarice stayed with the Doctor because he made her life paradise. She was Beatrice to his Dante. Or was she the Pilgrim being lead by Virgil? She didn't care. She had left—forsaken—everything and everyone she held dear. That wasn't a lot of people or things. She would never look back. The past was left in the past.

Dr. Lecter watched as she climbed out of the pool. Her dark blond hair looked almost brown in the sunlight. The water dripped enticingly from all the parts of her body. He still remembered the wine and the first time he has tasted her. She toweled herself dry and laid out next to his chair. Dr. Lecter looked down at her from his seat, the corners of his mouth up slightly.

"Are you done so we can leave to El Castillo?"

"Yes, I'll be ready in an hour."

He nodded and turned the next page of his book. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Clarice slip into the house. He met her in the foyer. She was dressed comfortably in a two piece suit that was slightly loose in the trousers. Dr. Lecter was immaculate in a suit of his own. He helped her into the Jaguar and drove them to the restaurant.

People were standing outside waiting to get in. The whole place looked packed to capacity. When Dr. Lecter walked inside, however, both he and Clarice were seated right away. Clarice smiled as Dr. Lecter pushed her chair in. The Head Waiter said that a waiter would be with them shortly. Dr. Lecter was only given a menu since he ordered for Clarice. He taught her most of the culinary knowledge that he knew. He picked new dishes for her to try and new wines for her to sip. Clarice scanned the restaurant briefly. She was slightly paranoid that they would be traced here. She knew it wasn't likely but she still checked to see if any undercover agents were in the vicinity. When she was satisfied, she turned back to Dr. Lecter.

"Where are we going tonight, Hannibal?"

He looked up from the menu briefly before he answered.

"El Teatro del Reyes. Placido Domingo is supposed to be on stage tonight."

At that moment, a young waiter walked up to their table.

"Como están, señores? I am Ignacio and I will be your sever this evening. May I start you both off with refreshments or appetizers?"

Dr. Lecter's head had shot up when he heard the young man speak. The young man looked to be about 27 or 29, very light skin, dark hair and spoke with an accent. A Lithuanian accent. Apparently he had been staring at the man because he felt Clarice's foot nudge him under the table.

"We're very well this evening, thank you. We would like the best and oldest wine you have. That is all."

Clarice noticed Dr. Lecter seemed unnerved, an unusual sight. He turned back to her when he had finished ordering.

"What is it, Hannibal? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"There's something familiar about that man," the doctor started. "His accent is diffidently Lithuanian. He's much too young to be an acquaintance of mine though."

"Maybe he just moved here? Why don't you ask him where he's from?"

"I will when he comes back with the wine. There's something familiar about him…"

"You have no illegitimate children that I need to know about right?" Clarice said with a grin.

Dr. Lecter looked at her sharply and smirked.

"You will find no bastards in my past. I kept company with very few women."

"Huh uh."

Dr. Lecter cringed at her speech. He could see the challenge in her sapphire eyes. The restaurant was becoming silent with the multitude of people leaving, wanting to be home before night fell. Dusk had fallen and the city of Buenos Aires became illuminated with thousands of lights. The gauchos were prowling the streets at this time of night, looking for any poor carbon unlucky to cross their path.

"Here's your wine, senor."

The young man set the wine bottle on the table and placed a stand next to it. The stand held a bucket of ice if they wished to drink the wine chilled. Dr. Lecter noticed he did not meet his eyes or Clarice's.

"What may I get you--."

"Where are you from if I might ask?"

"I am from Vilnius, Lithuania, sir."

"You see I was right, my dear," he said to Clarice.

The Doctor placed their orders. The young waiter still did not look directly at them. He brought them their food and left them in peace.

"He seems scared of us," said Clarice.

"He might have heard my reputation as a harsh critic. I've noticed that he is trying to hide something about his eyes…"

"Maybe he has cataracts and doesn't want you to notice them?"

"I don't think so…"

They passed the dinner in comfortable silence. The food was suburb. They both finished their plates and were ready to enjoy a pleasant night at the Opera. That was until the waiter came back with their bill.

"Thank you, senores, I hope you both have a good night."

He placed the bill on their table and turned to walk away. Dr. Lecter grabbed the man's wrist. He turned to Dr. Lecter and looked into his eyes. The Doctor's eyes inadvertently widened. The eyes that stared back at him were full of caution and had flashed a warning of danger. Dr. Lecter realized the man was not afraid of him.

"I just wanted to thank you, Ignacio," the Doctor lied.

The young man nodded and walked away. Dr. Lecter paid their bill and ushered Clarice out of the restaurant. She knew there was something wrong with him and that they would not be going to the opera that night. In the car, Clarice finally spoke up.

"What's troubling you, Hannibal? Was it the waiter?"

"It was."

He turned to Clarice.

"He had maroon eyes."

Like mine, he thought.