Hello Everyone! This is my second fanfic from the Mr. Selfridge fandom... I don't know if there are people still reading from this fandom, but this just came to my mind and I had to write it.

This story is the second part for my other story, For his love... but both of them can be read independently and still be completely understood.

One last thing, my mother language is not english, it's spanish... so please forgive me if I make a mistake or two...


Extended Summary: Agnes and Henri found and lost each other four times: When he left for NY, when he came back, when she reject him and then when he left for war. Four times they found and lost each other, and four times they met too, during war. Because four is a strong number in their lives.


Chapter one: The night that started it all.

After Victor had told her to go and find her true love, she had not hesitated. The reasons that brought her here had been abrupt and painful, but she was ready to endure all kind of pain, because at the end of the day being with Henri Leclair was worth it.

She knew he had to go: she had seen the same fierce determination in her brother's eyes a year ago. That didn't mean she didn't fear what lay ahead. Anyway, even if he didn't go, the French government would eventually summon him up, and if he didn't show up to fight he would be considered a deserter and would never be able to go back to his country.

Her old two-bedroom apartment, the one she had bought for her and George after she came back from Paris, looked empty, cold and unfamiliar now. She had left it after she went to live with Miss Mardle, but hadn't found it in her to put it on sale. The flat was a reminder that her brother, George, would come home to her and that they would go back to living together.

Of course, then Victor had proposed and she knew she had to sell it, that she would not go back here…. But couldn't do it, not even in that moment.

Agnes reached the switcher and turned on the lights. Henri looked around, taking in all the views.

Her taste was incredible. There wasn't a lot of furniture (why would she need it, anyway) but there were the necessary to make a home. A big and comfortable-looking sofa, a small table. Some bookshelves in the right wall and pictures and paintings in the left one. Then, there was a small corridor, which led to the two bedrooms and the bathroom. On the left side, there was another small entrance to what he thought was the kitchen.

"So, what do you think?" Agnes asked him. He turned to look at her and smiled.

"It's beautiful, mon chéri. You certainly have a good taste when it comes to decoration" He answered her wholehearted. She smiled.

"Well, I had a good teacher" He grinned. They stood like that for a few seconds, and then Agnes took the word again.

"In the kitchen there are some wine bottles and glasses. Could you please bring some?" She asked the Frenchman. He smiled and went into it.

Agnes looked around the apartment and sighed. Last time she had been alone with him, with clear intentions to do what they would be doing a in a few moments, she had been in his rented apartment. That was six years ago, and so much had changed since that moment.

Agnes walked inside what used to be her bedroom. The place had stayed the same, plain and simple. She had never been a collector, and detested to have useless things in her house. So her bedroom was simple and modest: A big double size bed, a nightstand on each side. A wardrobe in front of it, and another small table by its side, with a radio on it. At the right side of the bed, there was a fully large looking mirror.

She stood in front of it; looking at the image it gave her back. She was wearing a rather loosely dress that night. Underneath it, she was wearing her corset and underskirts, her chemise and stockings.

"One step at a time" She thought to herself.

First, she unlaced her boots, freeing her feet from them. She left them on the right side of her bed, stuck in there. After that, she started unbuttoning her dress. There were many, and she didn't want to torn it apart.

That was when she heard the door being open, and Henri's figure appeared.

Henri looked at the woman in front of him, barefoot, her dress half undone, and gulped.

He had done this a hundred, thousand time. But it had been long, really long since last time; and especially long since he had seen her like this.

He left the glasses and the bottle of wine over the small night table she had in her bedroom, and walked towards her, drinking her in with his eyes.

"Let me" He said, in his strong French accent, and Agnes nodded.

Henri Leclair stood in front of her, his hands started to finish the work she had began moments ago. He took his time to undo all the buttons, and then he put on of the sleeves down, then the other. Agnes allowed him, and with a single movement her dress fell on the floor, pooling around her feet.

She now stood in front of him, in her corset and underskirts. He breathed in, admiring the beautiful woman in front of her. The last time he had seen her, she was just a girl, nineteen years old. His beautiful English rose. Now, she was a woman through and through.

He didn't say anything, just walked round her, until he was at her back. He could hear how her breathing became faster and faster, her heart frenetic.

Henri touched her bare shoulders, admiring her skin, how soft it was. He watched her pinned hair, and suddenly wanted to touch it and let it loose. He had wanted it a thousand times, back when they were lovers and also at work. He loved how her face looked when she wore her hair loose.

And now he could. Now he could watch her, touch her. So he did it. He put his hands on her hair, took out the straps and let it loose, as a cascade.

He noticed that Agnes wore her hair shorter, as it was fashionable these days (and probably practical for work). When she was younger, it had reached her lower back. Now it only reached her shoulders.

He brushed her hair, caressing her head. And then, proceed to put his hands on her shoulders. Henri leaned in, kissing each one, as his hands rested in her bodice. He started unlacing the corset, careful not to hurt her as he did so. He knew how constricted these things were, and although he had dedicated his whole life to decorate manikins with woman's clothes, he couldn't understand how they bared to wear this every day.

Agnes had closed her eyes and soon as Henri's lips had touched her skin, breathing in all the new and old sensations.

How could she live without this? How could she have thought she would have been able to live without his lips, his kisses, his touches? Henri could ignite a fire inside her no one else could.

After some long, excruciating seconds, he finished unlacing her corset, and retiring it from her body. The underskirts were much easier: they only had a few buttons and one lace. Now, Agnes stood in nothing more than her chemise, her stockings and knickers.

He looked at her through the grand mirror in front of them. Her body had certainly changed since the last time he had seen her naked.

Six years ago, her body was still forming. Now, her breasts were fuller, bigger. Her hips were also wider, and she had more meat in her tights and lower stomach. Agnes had bloomed into a beautiful woman, and not for the first time he regretted not being there to see all those changes.

He had been so stupid, and wasted so many years.

But none of that matter right now. He was off to fight a war by tomorrow afternoon, and he had to enjoy all the time he had left with her. His Agnes, his English rose.

Not wanting to stay even an inch away from her any longer, he pressed his body into hers, and he moaned when his erection touched her butt. She moaned too, and in mare seconds he had spun her around, making her fall into the bed.

They kissed fiercely, after so long of not doing so. In their kiss they were telling each other everything they couldn't tell out aloud: Why did you leave me? I'm so sorry, I was stupid! I love you; I've loved you all these years. Please don't go.

Their kiss was a battle for dominance, not one of them wanting to give it up.

Finally, Henri gave up, letting her win, because he had other places he rather kiss.

So, he grabbed her by her tiny waist, hopping her up and putting both of them more comfortable on the large bed. And then, he started kissing his way down. He kissed her neck, biting and sucking. He knew that would leave a mark in her body, and he also knew it was childish for him to do so (and probably imprudent, as she would have to wear a scarf or long necks and hide it) but he couldn't help himself. He had waited so long, so long to kiss her, to make her his again.

Because she was his and only his.

Then, he kissed her collarbone. She had a lovely collarbone, so slender, so feminine. He could feel her pulse underneath his lips, fast and strong, and he thanks the Gods for it.

When he reached her breasts, Agnes finally slipped his name through her lips. "Henri" She whispered, in a voice full of lust and love. Her hands went to his hair, pulling from it. Oh, god, how she loved his hair. She loved every part of his body, that body that had thought her how to love.

He loved her body, too. Her breast felt different from the last time he had kissed them, all those years ago. But the skin felt the same, so her, so Agnes.

He made his way further, now kissing her stomach, thinking if maybe, one day; it would be round and proud with his child.

"Don't think about it, not now" He scolded himself. He wanted nothing more than little hers and his running around, jumping into their arms as they came back from the Store after a long day at work. But this was not the time to think about it.

So he continued his way down, kissing her hipbone. Agnes was breathing faster than before now, her hands more insistent.

And when his lips finally touched her core, her center, she cried out his name one more time.

If there was something absolutely great about having a French lover was that they certainly knew how to do this particular thing. Not that she had been with an Englishman, but she knew (from gossips and her colleagues) that not every man would be doing this.

She tried to stand still, breathing on the sweet torture and pleasure of what he was doing. He introduced one finger in her and she leaned forward into his touch.

Henri, by his side, was absolutely aroused by what he was seeing. If there was something he enjoyed very much in love making, was being able to make a woman feel pleasure, feel like this. And that said woman was Agnes… so this was driving him crazy without even being inside of her.

He loved how she tasted and smelled, and wanted to remember this sweet taste and smell. So he continued, until he felt Agnes started shaking.

"Oh, god…Oh, Henri… I" She was speaking by lapses now, not being able to make one single thought.

He pressed harder into her, his fingers never letting go of inside of her, and stopped what he was doing with his mouth just a minute.

"It's okay, my love. Give into it" He went back to use his tongue to what he was doing moments ago, and a few seconds later Agnes released, screaming his name, his tongue still inside of her. He drank what she was offering him, and then stood up.

Agnes stayed a few seconds without saying a word, just breathing, her eyes close. But then she opened them, a huge grin on her face.

Henri chuckled.

"I guess you liked that" He told her, and she laughed this time.

"You can say so" She answered, "It had been so long" She whispered, and he nodded.

"I know" Finally, she looked at him and laughed.

"It's good to know you make justice to what it's said about your people" She pointed out and he giggled.

"I guess it is" He answered, and then Agnes realized, for the first time in the night, that he was still fully dressed. The only thing he wasn't wearing were his shoes, which he must have pulled off when he climbed into her bed, but the rest of his clothes were still on his body.

"Why are you still dressed?" She questioned him, with a voice as if it was a crime.

He laughed at her comment.

"Well, I was too preoccupied about getting you undress, Mon Chéri" She rolled her eyes and stood up.

Years ago, shy and innocent Agnes would have wanted nothing more than to cover herself. But she wasn't that woman anymore. He had showed her what was really good.

So she stood up, naked and smelling as him, in front of him, and grabbed on the helm of his jacket, pulling it down. He let her, extending his arms.

She threw the jacket onto the floor.

"Well, we have to fix that"

He had been careful and slow in her undressing, but she wasn't. She didn't want to wait, she wanted to see him naked, right now.

And she did. After retrieving his jacket, she proceeds to undo his shirt, bowtie and lower his suspenders. They were all easily removed, the items placed on the floor now.

And finally, she got the occasion to admire his body. He had changed, too. Years ago, he had been in the top of his youth, thirty years old. He had been all muscle and marked lines. Now, six years later and after his fast and terrible decay, he wasn't as before. He remain strong and muscular, but a bit more of a belly and fat was around his torso.

It didn't matter. For Agnes, he was still the most handsome man she had ever seen. She touched his body, letting herself remember what it felt like. And then, she spread her legs, straddling his lap. Now, it was Henri time to breath hard and fast. He was already fully aroused, and Agnes was careful not to hurt him when she undid his breeches, bringing them down with his underpants.

His body was still marvelous, strong and fierce. And she loved it, she loved him.

With a movement, Henri pulled her closer to him kissing her fiercely. Her lower abdomen came straight into his arousal, and she sight.

She wanted him; she needed him inside of her. Now.

She needed to feel him everywhere, to know that he wasn't going to leave her.

So she did. She pressed onto his chest, making him fall into the bed. And she straddled her legs once again, placing her center at his crotch's level.

Henri didn't ask her if she was sure this time, as when they were younger. No, he understood that right now she needed and wanted this. More than anything.

So he let her lead the way. Agnes took on his erection with her hand, and he moaned. And then, with a movement, she put him inside of her, letting him fill her in.

At first, there was a sharp pain. She wasn't' a virgin anymore, far from it, but it had been six years since she had been with anyone- with him – and it hurt her.

Henri began to move, but only a few seconds later he noticed she wasn't moving with him and stopped.

"My love?" He asked her with a heavy voice. "Is everything alright?" She had her eyes shut, trying to get used to his size, his body inside of her.

"Yes, Henri" She answered, "It's just… it's been a long time. I need to get used to it again" She answered him, and he nodded.

And then, it hit him.

"Agnes" He asked her, "Have you been with anyone since…well-"

"Since you?" She completed his question and shook her head, "No, you are my one and only"

Henri thought he could cry in that moment. She had waited for him. Even if she didn't know it at the time, she had waited for him… and he hadn't. He had run away with another woman, making love to her, kissing her. And when she left him, he started going to brothels or whoever wanted to be with him.

He didn't deserve her. He didn't deserve this girl.

"What?" Agnes asked him, more to distract herself from the pain. She knew once it faded away, the real fun would begin, "Did you really think I had been with someone else?" She asked him. She hadn't have sex with him all those years ago because she was bored. She had done it because, even though she hadn't realized it back then, she was already in love with him.

"Well" He answered, "You did go to Paris…" She laughed.

"Oh, yes, Paris" she repeated his words and then looked at him, "Yes, that was the most masochist thing I ever did" He was truly intrigued now. What did she mean by that? "Everything in there remained me of you. All the stories you told me about France, and everyone speaking in that French accent of yours… I even thought I could see you… but I wouldn't have changed my time for nothing. It was wonderful, and I learnt a lot" She finished. Henri closed his eyes, her words coming like bricks to him.

What had he done? Why had he put both of them under such pain, such despair?

He couldn't say that with words. He couldn't tell her how sorry he was, so he did the only thing he could.

He sat up right, and kissed her, fiercely, making her forget everything. The war that was ringing on the other side of the channel, and his imminent departure. Her pain, everything.

He switched places, now Agnes beneath him. He knew that her being on top would be the most pleasurable position, but from this angle he could manage the situation and make her feel better.

So, he trusted more into her, a sound escaping her lips, and then brought his hand to the one part that was joining them. He reached inside of her for that tiny, little button of pleasure, and when he found it he started massaging it.

Agnes immediately forgot the pain. All she could feel now was pleasure. Her folds were already wet from her previous released, and although she had felt pain at the begging, now she felt in pure ecstasy.

She started moving, and Henri sighed, finally being able to do it himself. He felt as if he was going to explode if he stood still one more minute.

His trusts and her movements became more frenetic, desperate; and they both knew they wouldn't last, as their foreplay had been long, sweet and patient; but now they needed this. They needed to reach their climax, touch heaven with their hands together, and know that no one or anything would keep them apart.

A few minutes later, they reached their goal. Agnes came in first, Henri waiting for her. She felt the strong pull as she explode, something she hadn't felt in a long, long time. And seconds later Henri followed her, screaming her name and some curses in French, making her smile.

They stood like that for a few seconds, both still joined. Henri made sure not to put all his weight over her, letting her breath and recover. He was touching her hair, caressing it and their faces inches from the other; while Agnes was stroking his chest, playing with the few hairs in it.

Agnes knew that they should get up, clean after themselves and leave the apartment. But she couldn't find the strength in her to leave him. She wanted to spend every second, every minute with him until tomorrow's afternoon (or today's afternoon, better said).

And then, suddenly, Henri spoke.

"Marry me" He said. And Agnes thought she could die right there, "Marry me, Agnes Towler"

She didn't say a word for the first minutes, and Henri waited, watching her.

She had just broke off an engagement… was she ready to step into another one?

And then, she realized she had always known the answer. She had been ready for this for a long time. Ever since he had invited her to his house, six years ago.

She had never truly loved Victor, because her heart had always belonged to the eccentric Frenchman in bed with her.

So Agnes looked at him, a smile on her face.

"Yes" She answered, "I will marry you, Henri Leclair"


The second time they made love that night was tender and gentle, no rush. They re-discovering each other's body, touching, feeling.

And at last, when they both came, their releases lasted longer than it had ever been.


The third time, it had been like a fire burning a building. He had started kissing her from behind, and in mere seconds he was inside of her, trusting her hard.

They were both damaging each other, but they didn't care. They both wanted that: they pain, the sorrow. The pain Agnes was feeling as he trusted inside of her, hard and savage, was well received by her, because it made her remember he was still there, with her.

So by the time they both came, screaming each other's name, pulling their nails in their bodies, they were practically crying.

And seconds later, they were.

They held in a tight embrace for a long time, silent tears in both their faces.

How could destiny be so cruel? Why had it make them be apart, only to bring them together to lose each other again?


The fourth time they made love was in the early morning. None of them had slept all night, except for a few minutes here and there, between one time and the other.

The fourth time started lazily. They kissed, and kissed, and kissed. And before they could even notice it, he was inside of her, both of them moving along.

It had been so easy; it was where they both belonged.

And then, morning arrived. People started to wake up, different smells and noises through her window. And they cried. Agnes cried in her loved one's arms, harder than she had ever before in her life. And Henri did too, because he had waited so long, so long for this… and now he had to lose it, again.

But it was okay. Because now, they had found each other, and nothing would keep them apart.


A new day arrived, far too soon for their wishes, and they tried to spend as much as they could together. But both of them had some things to do, and proceed to take care of them.

For instance, Agnes was still working today, so after they had a well deserved shower and bought some breakfast for themselves at one of the stores outside Agnes' flat, they led the way toward Selfridges.

The streets were now full of woman and children walking by themselves, and the only men that could be seen were boys, old men or soldiers, either leaving for war or coming back for their leave.

They walked pass through them, holding their hands. That was until they reached the store and Agnes spotted someone there: Victor.

She froze on her feet, and Henri noticed that. For a moment, he was too tempted to take her away, away from Victor's eyes. But he knew he couldn't: he had to be better. The boy had brought his Agnes back to him, and he had to be better than that.

Victor lifted up his gaze and saw them. The woman that until yesterday was to be his wife and the man she truly loved. He kept his eyes on both of them, and then headed towards the Store's doors.

Henri looked at Agnes, who was still gazing at the doors. She wanted to follow the waiter, he knew that.

"Go, my love" He told her. Agnes looked at him, surprised. Suddenly all the men that loved her acted strangely and said the least expected things, "I have to go and talk to Harry about something very important, and you should go and talk to him. He's a good man, you said it yourself. You owe a conversation"

Agnes smiled at that incredible man standing at her side, so understanding, so loving. Without thinking, she stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips onto his. She knew there were out, in the open and that people would speak, but she couldn't care less.

"Thank you, Henri" Was all she said, before stepping in the building and going to find Victor


When Henri finished his explanation, Harry's eyes were as big as plates.

"So, let me get this right" His friend told him, standing up from his chair and walking round his office, "Miss Towler is now going to marry you, and not Victor Colleano?" He asked, in disbelief.

Henri nodded, understanding his confusion.

"Yes, I know it's-"

"IT'S GREAT NEWS!" His friend shouted, a huge smile on his face, "Oh, Henri my dear friend… you don't know how happy I am to hear this! To know that all of this ended up so great for you! It was about time you realized your feelings for Miss Towler" Now it was Henri's time gape like a fish and look at his friend in disbelief.

"Wait, but…. Harry… you are saying…how…" Harry laughed again. It was then that Henri noticed that his friend's eyes were red and tired, as if he had been crying all night…

"Oh, come on Henri! You and I, we go back a long way! I've known you for what? Ten years? Even more I think! When you were here, six years ago, it was so obvious that you were so in love with Miss Towler… but I didn't want to say anything, I knew you had to find out by yourself" His friend explain, and Henri became more and more confuse…

"But, how… how did you realize it?" Harry laughed again. He really needed a reason to laugh, to be happy after last night horrible news, and his friend was giving him the best news anyone could.

"It was so obvious! You were always asking for her. 'Oh, Harry, could Miss Towler please come and help me with the window? Harry, I really love Miss Towler's insight on the display, could I ask her to come with me?" Harry said, trying to speak with Henri's French accent which only made the man in question roll his eyes, "Why do you think I mentioned her when you came back to my house months ago? I knew she would be the only reason you'd come back to the store!" When Henri heard his words he stood still, shocked by this revelation… of course he knew, of course Harry Gordon Selfridge would know it! Suddenly his friend turned serious, "That was, also why I didn't want you to leave for New York… I knew you were making a mistake, that your heart did no longer belonged to Valerie but to Miss Towler" He said the last part in a low voice, as if regretting not saying it sooner.

And Henri looked at his friend, gratitude on his face. Oh, how could have he been so foolish? Of course Harry hadn't been angry at him that day because he was leaving him… it was because his best friend knew he was giving up the only chance he had to find happiness… If only he had listened to him!

But there was no time for if only's right now…

"God, Harry! You really are a matchmaker!" He said and his friend laughed.

"You don't realize how much I needed this good news, my friend" He told him, and his eyes instantly filled with tears, remembering what his wife had told him last night.

"I'm dying, Harry"

Henri had not been the only one who had lost so much time with the people he loved…

And his friend in question looked at him, not understanding. So Harry told him all about it.

By the end of the conversation, the Frenchman was shocked, sitting on the small sofa.

"Harry… I'm so sorry" He said. Harry waved his hand.

"It's okay" He answered, "Rose is right… there are some things no one can fix… not even me. I just wished we had had more time. We lost so much of it fighting; I lost so much of it…"

Both men look into each other's eyes, saying nothing but everything at the same time.

Harry was going to lose his wife. There was no way out of it. And Henri was just about to fight the worst war mankind had seen in a long, long time.

This was where their choices and fates had brought them. But anything that happened, they knew they could always count on the other.


St Pancreas station was full of people running from one side to the other. Children leaning on their parent's sides, crying, asking them not to leave. Their mothers closed by, trying to look strong for their children.

Couples saying goodbye, promising each other they would be reunited. A wishful thinking more than anything else.

And Agnes wondered how many of them, the women that were left behind, waiting, would see their husbands, fiancés and lovers again.

The thought made her grip Henri's hand tighter, not wanting to let him go. His gray suit stunned in the crowd of men wearing green uniforms. Agnes knew his uniform wouldn't be green, but blue, and wished she could see him in it.

His train left for Dover at two o'clock. From there, he would take a boat to Calais and then another train leading him to Paris.

"What are you going to do, when you get to Paris?" She asked her -now -fiancé.

"I'll go to an apartment I have there" He answered, "Well, it's not actually mine, more like my family's… but it's the same. I will leave my things there and then go to the registry office, to enlist" She nodded.

"Are you sure you don't want me to go with you?" She wondered, for the millionth time in the day, "I could stay with you until they send you away… I'm sure I could explain it to Mr. Selfridge, somehow…" He shook his head.

"No, Mon Chéri. I'm sure Harry wouldn't mind at all, but even if the fight is not in Paris, France is not secure at the moment. Not a single part of it. And I don't want you to be in the middle. Anyway, I will just be there one night and a day, and it seems unpractical for you to do such a long trip just for one day" She waved her head.

"If it means I get one more day and night with you, it's everything but unpractical" He smirked, knowing she wouldn't let this go.

"It's okay, mon Chéri. We will see each other again, I promise you. I won't be sent to the battlefield right away. They will send me to a training center first, surely one in the outskirts of Paris…. I will train there for six weeks and then I will have one week leave" He explained to her. Henri took Agnes' face in his big hands, looking right into her eyes. "I will come back for that week. I promise you. And on every leave I get, I will come and visit you, even if it's just for a few seconds" His words were strong and powerful. This was his promise for her, and she knew it. So she nodded, tears now running through her cheeks.

"Okay, I believe you, Henri Leclair" Her words were as passionate and powerful as hers. She leaned on, pressing her lips on his. Automatically, Henri opened his mouth, taking hers on his, his tongue looking for hers. He loved to kiss her like this, wholehearted and not just a small one. He was, after all, French. After some seconds, they broke apart, but Agnes kept their foreheads united, "Please take care, my love. I know how those French girls are like, deadlier than a German bullet!" She joked him, the same joke she had done to Victor months ago when he enlisted with George.

Henri laughed at her comment, shaking his head.

"Don't worry, my love. Because the only woman I want is back in this country" He assured her, and Agnes smiled at him. He thought for a minute, suddenly noticing the weight of the small box on his coat. He wanted to do this after he came back from war… but he realized he wanted to do this now, sealing the promise he had made to her last night.

Henri looked at his beloved Agnes and took a step back, creating a small distance between them. She looked back at him, confused and intrigued. And then, the Frenchman kneeled down, one knee on the floor, his other leg extended. Agnes gave a small cry, bringing her hands to her face, covering it. She couldn't believe he was actually going to do this.

Henri took her left hand. "Agnes Towler" He started, "I know I've already asked this last night, but I want to do it properly now, because you deserve it, so, would you make me the happiest man on earth, and agree to marry me?" By now, there was a little crowd surrounding them. Women crying and men smiling, yelling at her "Say yes, woman!" So Agnes just nodded, frenetically, until she had recovered her speech abilities again:

"Yes, Henri Leclair" She answered, "I will marry you. Now and always" Henri's smiled lightened up his whole face. For a moment, he forgot he was at St Pancreas's station because he was going back to France to fight a war. For a moment he was the happiest man on earth, indeed.

His mother's old ring fitted Agnes' annular finger perfectly. He had collected it in the morning, when he went back to Harry's house to gather the last of his belongings and saying farewell to his best friend's family. Talking to Rose had proved to be harder than anything else, knowing he might not see her again. She had found him when he didn't want to be found, and if he hadn't been for the good and kind woman, he might have never been able to rebuild his life.

He stood up, and Agnes immediately went to his side, grabbing him by his neck and kissing her fiancée fiercely.

A few minutes later, Henri was inside the train, the White Cliffs of Dover being his next destination. But for the first time since she had known he was heading to war, she didn't feel frightened. Maybe this was what every woman told herself at this moment, but she believed, more than anything, that their love was stronger than anything on earth.


So, how did you like it? There will be four more chapters, each one about the four times they meet during the war... I have already written them, so send reviews or tell me if you liked it and I will update them!

Cheers,

V,