A/N: There are so many debates over Poirot's age, and more so even on his family etc. I have decided to combine a few facts, and hopefully, this will please all fans. Truthfully, I understood that Dame Agatha thought — wrongly, hehe — that she will not be writing any more Poirot stories, and this might be the cause for all of this ongoing confusion.

Also, I'm really combining a few episodes here and there, I'm sorry if they're not exactly in chronological order and stuff.

This is the first time I try my hand at making a memoir.

Enjoy!

It was a pleasant evening of May, 1933, when Hastings and I were sitting near the fireplace, discussing various topics, from la politique until my favorite topic —various unsolved cases that I wanted to take on solving — but then, my good friend asked me a question I never fully pondered on.

Not until today, that is.

"Poirot, what do you think of biographies?" he asked me with his usual, naive tone.

"Ah, Hastings, —" I say, after gently sipping from my tisane, "— I have no idea. I believe I may have read something along those lines, vaguement, but I think some details ought to be kept un secret."

"So, —" Hastings said, with a dramatic pause, adjusting his collar, "— Poirot, you haven't thought of writing down your biography?"

"Comment...? To write down my biography...?"I said, forming a small smile with my lips. "I must confess, my dear Hastings, the thought has indeed crossed my mind. Though—" I paused for a moment, as if words were suddenly gone from my mind.

"What is it, old boy?" my friend asked, a tone of concern rising in his voice.

"Not all of my memories are happy ones, mon ami." I said, sipping from my tisane once more, as my eyes shifted towards an empty frame that was supposed to hold a picture of my family. "En fin, whose memories are full of joyous times, eh?"

"I suppose you're right, Poirot." he seemed to have conceded to me, as his eyes were fixated on the windows of our apartment. "But if there are some memories that hold some joy, those are the ones with you, with Dulcie..."

"Eh bien, when you put it that way, mon ami, "I smiled, "my memories with you are indeed joyous ones."

~BoM~

"Je suis Hercule Poirot."

It was a beautiful day of April, 1873, when I was born in the small, beautiful town of Ellezelles, in Belgium. My father was Jules-Louis Poirot, and my mother was Godelieve Poirot, both part of a modest family that lived in Ellezelles for as long as they knew. I also had a sister, named Annette Poirot, with whom I used to play in the garden outside our modest house. I still remember the gentle rustle of the wind as we were running in the vast champs full of all kinds of flowers, like bluebells, golden clovers, primrose, my sister's laughter as we were playing le chasse, the chase, something the English call "tag, you're it."

I went to school at the age of seven, the same as my sister, and then my somewhat idyllic childhood became l'enfer eternel. Well, perhaps because of my egg-shaped head, and the unusual intelligence that I displayed during my school years...j'étais toujours moque....but my teachers were very proud of me. My father often came to check on my progress, and whenever he saw a good grade, all I got was —in a stern, yet happy voice — a "Bravo, mon fils! Tu me faites très fier d'avoir un fils comme toi! J'espère que tous ces études t'aideront dans ton futur. Je ne veux plus pour toi qu'être un homme de valeur."

And he was right, it seems. Pas mal pour moi, eh?

My mother was always busy with looking after the house — and both Annette and I tried to ease out her work — but sometimes she'd shoo us away, saying we have aucun raison to be in there. Her soothing voice comes into my mind, as she used to sing a lullaby when we had a hard time sleeping...

Dodo, l'enfant do...

Where are the times when I used to admire the beautiful countryside...?

~BoM~

The first tragedy struck when my father was accidentally run over by a cab, in 1886. I was 13 at that time, and that suddenly made me the man in the family —ma mere must've wept for so many nights — I had to take on, for a short while, running the family business with milk. Hein, a great detective such as I did run a business at thirteen years old? Non, non, it was one of my father's friends, Achille Devereaux, that took the business, while I was just un lieutenant, but not in the military sense.

It vaguely comes to my mind, the first time I talked to this stout man, with a well-kept moustache — j'ai toujours rêvé d'avoir une moustache comme lui! — he told me I am far too smart to remain at selling milk. "T'est pas fait pour vendre du lait, tu as un quelque chose, tu peux devenir plus que ton père était. Restez studieux, et, qui sait? Tu peut-être devenir un détective, comme Sherlock Holmes! " Ah, if he would still be alive, he would see that his prédiction for me actually became true. Hein, those times were indeed something.

One day, Annette asked me something, out of curiosity — she seemed to have misunderstood something about stars — and I remembered it was usually papa who explained us so many things about les étoiles — but with mon père gone, and my mother still trying to work for our welfare, she didn't have anyone else to turn to, and I was more than happy to help her with it that day.

"Frère Hercule, frère Hercule! Peux-tu m'expliquer pourquoi nous ne pouvons voir tous les constellations?" her crystalline voice was calling out my name.

I briefly smiled at her, and started to tell her a small story that I once heard from papa. "Il était une fois un Titan, qui tenait le ciel. Son nom était Atlas, et il était le plus géant des Titans. Parce qu'il ne tenait qu'un part de ciel, et pas le ciel entier, nous ne pouvons voir tous les constellations. Nous verrons Orion, L'Etoile Polaire, L'Ursa Major, L'Ursa Minore..." She then explained at school, in front of her class, the story I told her — and le professeur asked who helped her understand the constellations that we can see — and Annette replied that it was I who told her the story. Le professeur then called me in his bureau and smiled, telling me I was smart to combine la mythologie avec l'astronomie, and advised me to keep doing it, telling me that his father had mon père as student, and he was as bright as I was.

~BoM~

"Joyeux anniversaire, Hercule! Tu est aujourd'hui dix-huit ans, et un homme en tout puissance!" Ah, remembering my mother's old voice as she gently trailed her calloused hands brings me a sense of safety and nostalgia. "Protégez Annette pour moi..." That was the last thing she asked from me, as Annette and I were going, a year later, to be all alone — on our own.

"Hercule..." Annette said, as she looked at me with her blue eyes — inherited from ma mere — slowly holding my hand, "qu'est qu'on ferrons d'ici avant?"

"Je ne sais pas,"I told her with a trembling voice, as I held her hand back, "maman m'a dit que je dois te protéger, et c'est exactement que je veux faire."

I still believe this promise was the one that made me enroll in the force, willing to protect my little sister — and doing more than just selling milk, as monsieur Devereaux once told me. The first day at the Academy was one of the most difficult ones, as Annette was often coming to me in tears — no doubt because she tried her hand at trouver l'homme parfait, like she used to say — and I couldn't do anything else but console her.

"Calmez-toi, Annette. Regardez, je ne peux te dire plus, tu dois trouver des amies qui peuvent t'aider. Mais..." I said to her that day, but she did nothing but shake her head in desperation.

"Aide-moi, mon frère...Aide-moi! Je ne veux pas rester seule!"

Those were the same words with which she signed her suicide note, when I was out to investigate a mysterious death reported by one of her friends. I can still see her... the image will never be gone from my mind, as I remember my cold tears running down my face.

"Désolé, Hercule."

"Mes condoléances."

"T'as fait tout que tu as pu."

"Restez fort, lieutenant."

All those words of comfort were indeed dulling the ache in my heart, and then there was that infamous case which changed mon point de vue in what meant to be a detective. Was it also because I felt like I failed to save ma petite sœur? I do not know for certain, but I failed to solve the murder of M. Déroulard in 1893, and felt disappointed with myself as a detective. "C'est moi qui a tue mon mari, monsieur Poirot." I remember the old Madame Déroulard confessing to me one late night, and then, a week later, I was informed of her death. But Virginie was upset with me, for she was indeed, ah, tombée amoureuse with me, and I felt the same for her for a while.

~BoM~

Honnêtement, I believe true love came into my life when I first met Countess Vera Rossakoff. Ah, that case of the jewel theft — she did throw me a red herring, — though she was, and is, one of the most beautiful women I've met in my entire life. Her beautiful red hair flowing just atop of her shoulders, her beautiful brown eyes... Qu'est qu'il y a avec moi? The unspoken words between us, each time we meet, leave me with no air around her, it is as if le temps stops itself while we look at one another. The same it was when I had to arrest her daughter, and then those words of hers...

"Hercule...Spare my daughter," she told me, looking at me with those brown eyes, "Spare her, as years ago you spared me. Please."

"I cannot." I hear myself saying with a cold, stern voice.

"Dorogoy...Moj liubov..." she tried to approach me.

"No, Countess. Poirot is not your love." I sternly refused, though I could see the hurt look in her eyes.

J'ai refuse l'amour, parce que je suis le servant de la justice.

Have I refused love because I was too much of a fool to admit it to myself...? If I ever told Hastings about this, he would say I was cold-hearted. Aucun ne peut comprendre cette douleur, the pain of being torn between two values that you uphold — the pain of denying everything to yourself — was it because I was afraid that she would be in danger? Or that people would say I'm protecting a thief? That still didn't justify why I denied myself love.

~BoM~

As I remind myself of this, the memory of my first arrival in England is also bitter — forced to leave from my homeland, alone in a land of foreigners — though everything turned for the better when the benevolent landlord of the Styles Manor offered us a place to stay. It went even better as I met Hastings, with whom I have a long, durable friendship — even if, sometimes, his grey cells refuse to work in certain situations. Hein, yet he often provided me vital clues when I felt at an impasse, and even proved to be...how do the English say? Ah, yes, proved to be amusing.

"Well, rice is good." He once told me.

"Do you know what is the food my government taxes the most? ...Rice!" I retorted, somewhat irritated by his statement.

There was another moment when he indeed proved to be très amusant, as when we played Monopoly. Sacre, I didn't see him more defeated than when I asked him for rent — I was already on the verge of winning — and he didn't say another word until the next day.

"...If you wouldn't puff like a whale over those dices!" I remember criticizing him somewhat harshly, and then I found myself adopting the same tactique.

~BoM~

Ah, but how could I forget about mon cher Chief Inspector Japp! He is, by far, an excellent chief inspector, but — and this is just between myself and I — he lacks the method! He cannot ever hope to be as good as Hercule Poirot himself. Though, I must say, I enjoy seeing him running for different clues to reach la même conclusion, just like I did.
He is also quite amusing — though I must admit — his lack of hygiene greatly disturbs me. I remember when he was eating fries, as they stood on a greasy newspaper, and even tried to entice me into eating. Quel horreur!
However, it's thanks to him that we got many good cases — which Hastings and I competently solved — and proved that he is a very good friend to me, even if we, ah, joue un jeu dangereux when it comes to solving the mystery first. Once, he bet me five pounds that I can't solve a mystery without leaving the house...

...Seeing this challenge, I gleefully accepted, as I was also practicing mes trucs magiques, something that I really enjoy even now. Hastings acted as my eyes and ears — and legs — and offered me every piece of vital clue that was needed to eventually solve it. M. Davenheim's disappearance was nothing but une illusion, a fake mystery, based on a mere disguise.

Then, there was that case when I had to break into Lavington's house — parbleu, it was embarrassing enough — and I got arrested. Thankfully, after Japp had a good laugh, — calling me Le Chien Fou, — I was released and I could solve the case, as Lady Millicent was not who she claimed to be. Les voleurs, dans ces jours...

All of these memories — mean something to me —, and I feel my soul lighter as I write these things down. Hastings' idea wasn't très mal, as opposed to the many times he didn't provide me any real support, or understanding of the facts. Though, this is my little journal that I plan to expand as time shall pass...

Perhaps it is time for the great Hercule Poirot to archive his cases.

At the readers' request (I'm deeply sorry for not doing this earlier!), I'll list the French words/expressions in here, with their (hopefully accurate, as I haven't practiced French in a long time) translation.

la politique = politics
vaguement = vaguely
un secret = a secret
Comment...? = What...?
mon ami = my friend
Eh bien = Well
En fin = In the end
Je suis Hercule Poirot = I am Hercule Poirot
l'enfer eternel = an eternal inferno
j'etais toujours moque = I was always mocked
"Bravo, mon fils! Tu me faites très fier d'avoir un fils comme toi! J'espère que tous ces études t'aideront dans ton futur. Je ne veux plus pour toi qu'être un homme de valeur!" = Well done, my son! You make me very proud to have a son like you! I hope all those studies will help you in the future (or your future. I still think I should've used avenir, but it's too late to make any changes now. Welp.). I don't wish anything more for you than to become a man of valor!
Pas mal pour moi = Not bad for me
Dodo, l'enfant do... = Sleep, sleep, the child sleeps
Hein = What (used here as an interjection)
un lieutenant = a lieutenant
j'ai toujours rêvé d'avoir une moustache comme lui = I've always dreamed of having a moustache like his
"T'est pas fait pour vendre du lait, tu as un quelque chose, tu peux devenir plus que ton père était. Restez studieux, et, qui sait? Tu peut-être devenir un détective, comme Sherlock Holmes!" = You're not suited (or capable, or destined) for selling milk, you have something special, you can become more than your father was. (Stay focused on your studies / Keep studying), and, who knows? Maybe you'll become a detective, just like Sherlock Holmes
papa/mon père = father / my father
les étoiles = the stars
"Frère Hercule, frère Hercule! Peux-tu m'expliquer pourquoi nous ne pouvons voir tous les constellations?" = Brother Hercule, brother Hercule! Can you explain to me why we can't see all the constellations?
"Il était une fois un Titan, qui tenait le ciel. Son nom était Atlas, et il était le plus géant des Titans. Parce qu'il ne tenait qu'un part de ciel, et pas le ciel entier, nous ne pouvons voir tous les constellations. Nous verrons Orion, L'Etoile Polaire, L'Ursa Major, L'Ursa Minore..." = There was once a Titan, who held the sky on his shoulders (I had no idea how to fully write that). His name was Atlas, and he was the greatest of Titans. But, because he held only a part of the sky, and not the entire sky, we can't see all the constellations. We can see Orion, the Polar Star, the Ursa Major, the Ursa Minor...
le professeur = the teacher
bureau = office
"Joyeux anniversaire, Hercule! Tu est aujourd'hui dix-huit ans, et un homme en tout puissance!" = Happy birthday, Hercule! You're now eighteen, and a man in all his strength!
"Protégez Annette pour moi..." = Protect Annette for me...
ma mere = my mother
"qu'est qu'on ferrons d'ici avant?" = What are we going to do henceforth / from this day forward?
"Je ne sais pas, maman m'a dit que je dois te protéger, et c'est exactement que je veux faire." = I don't know, mom told me I have to protect you, and that's exactly what I'm going to do.
"Calmez-toi, Annette. Regardez, je ne peux te dire plus, tu dois trouver des amies qui peuvent t'aider. Mais..." = Calm down, Annette. Look, I can't tell you anything more, you need to find friends (he means girl friends) who can help you. But...
"Aide-moi, mon frère...Aide-moi! Je ne veux pas rester seule!" = Help me, my brother...Help me! I don't want to stay all alone!
"Désolé, Hercule." = I'm sorry, Hercule.
"Mes condoléances." = My condolences.
"T'as fait tout que tu as pu." = You did everything you could.
"Restez fort, lieutenant." = Stay strong, lieutenant.
mon point de vue = my point of view / my opinion / my idea
ma petite sœur = my little sister
"C'est moi qui a tue mon mari, monsieur Poirot." = I was the one who killed my husband, mister Poirot. (It could be translated as "I did it. I killed my husband, mr. Poirot" too)
tombée amoureuse = falling in love
Honnêtement = Honestly
Qu'est qu'il y a avec moi? = What's happening to me?
le temps = time
"Dorogoy...Moj liubov..." (rus., russian) = My darling...My love...
J'ai refuse l'amour, parce que je suis le servant de la justice. = I have refused love, because I am the servant of justice.
Aucun ne peut comprendre cette douleur = Nobody could understand this pain
impasse = it is similar with impasse (in English), or obstacle
tactique = tactic, strategy
même conclusion = the same conclusion / the same idea
Quel horreur! = What a horror / What a horrible thing
joue un jeu dangereux = play a dangerous game
parbleu / sacre = What the hell
Le Chien Fou = The Mad Dog
Les voleurs, dans ces jours... = Thieves, these days...