This might be a one-shot, or a series of one-shots. The pacing is fast because it is a one shot! Please keep that in mind. Above all, enjoy! Also, if I've accidentally switched perspectives, please let me know. This piece is a rough cut, but I wanted it up here anyway.

The sun had sunk low into the horizon, casting a strangely calm orange hue over the hills of Ardennes. The winds blew warm air through his hair, and filled his senses with the pungent scent of wild flowers and honey. The man slid his sunglasses on, and felt a smile tug at his lips. The meeting had been stressful, and necessary, but satisfying, as much of his work had always felt. It was these moments, these moments of exhilarating, heart thumping, heart-breaking simple, quiet, beautiful moments that he lived for.

The roads were mostly deserted, save for a few small establishments offering cold beverages and sweet cakes. He had just decided to stop over at the next town for a coffee and madeleine when he spotted her. A woman, decked out in an astonishingly bright pair of yellow and black tights, was lugging what appeared to be an ancient carrier about half a mile down the road.

"Are you okay?" The woman had stumbled back when he pulled up, but hadn't run away. His English seemed to please her.

She blew a few strands of hair away from her face. Her sunglasses obscured her eyes, but she managed a half smile.

"No. Of course, I'm not. I was supposed to be dropped off at a town called…something, but the driver misunderstood, and then left me here, in the middle of nowhere!"

He suppressed a smile, afraid she would take a turn into furious if he did.

"Hop in. I'll give you a ride."

She raised an eyebrow.

"You're offering a complete stranger a ride?"

He shrugged, doing a quick assessment of her again. Her tights were strange, but other than that, he didn't seem to detect any red flags. Her brown hair was bound in what looked like a fairly accurate imitation of Princess Leia's buns. Giving a Star Wars fan a ride was the least of his worries.

"You getting in, or what?"

The man popped the trunk of his car open.

"What's your name anyway?"

"Will."

"Lou."

He glanced over at her. She was adjusting her seatbelt, and had finally removed her sunglasses. Curious brown eyes assessed every inch of the car, almost frantically, as if noting down the emergency exits on an air plane.

"What brings you here, Lou? All the way from England?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"Business, actually. This is the pleasure part."

"Backpacking. I finally plucked up the courage to leave home, and here, waiting for me, was the universe's response."

Will chuckled. "Can't be all that bad. The universe sent me."

The corners of her eyes creased in amusement.

"I mean, look at that sunset. It's not all bad."

She looked straight ahead, and her eyes became unfocused. A slow smile spread over her face, and suddenly, she began to laugh.

The car stopped just a mile or two away from the next town. The engine had blown, and Will was furious. He kicked the tyre a couple of times, before Lou finally pressed him away and suggested they walk to the next town to sleep, and then get help in the morning.

The stars winked happily overhead, and the cicadas chirped merrily. Lou swung her heels around, and hummed a tune under her breath. She was so bright, and cheerful, that slowly, as he continued to observe her, to smile with her, the anger ebbed away.

"We've been together for three hours, and I still know little to nothing about you. You could be a serial killer. I could have picked up a serial killer."

A strange, gurgling sound erupted from Lou, and she threw her arms wide. "I am a murderer, and I thirst for sweet man flesh!"

Will laughed. She laughed, in spite of herself.

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything. Anything."

"That's a big ask from a stranger."

So, she began. She told him about her family; her father, her mother, her sister, her nephew, her grandad. They were a kooky bunch. They lived in a small flat in Notting Hill, and shared pretty much everything. She had worked at a few cafes over the years to save enough to go traveling, which is what she was doing now. She had had to leave a boyfriend and friends behind, but had been happy to leave her small town and job at the Buttered Bun to see a world she had always been curious about. She was like a bee. She was sweet, and could hardly be contained.

"Where does the fashion sense come from?"

Her smile slipped a little. She pursed her lips, and proceeded to slowly undo her hair buns. Loose, wavy hair fell around her face, and she partially obscured herself from Will's view. He almost reached out to brush her hair back. Until that moment, he hadn't realised how beautiful she was. Her eyes were sad, but as brown as ever. He could have swam in them, they were so deep.

Her voice was quiet. "That's a longer story."

"We have all night."

She didn't respond, simply keeping her gaze trained forward.

Will cleared his throat and clapped his hands. "Right. Perhaps it's my turn." He began his big story about his family, his schooling, his philandering. That received a few looks and laughs, and suddenly she was back to her cheerful self. Whatever her story was, he was sure she would tell him, or someone, one day.

When they finally reached a hotel in the next town, they were so comfortable with each other, and shared so much, that it seemed like they had been friends for years. He rarely felt this way with anyone. Who was this woman?

He had requested two rooms adjacent to each other, but waited while they sorted out housekeeping. She slipped his jacket off her shoulders, and offered it back to him with a smile.

"Mr Traynor, your rooms are ready."

He offered the man his credit card, when Lou's hand flew out and clasped his.

"Mr Traynor?" Her eyes were wider than ever.

"Yes?"

"You're a Traynor."

"Right. Have been for 35 years."

"Oh, Lord. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear."

"Does that change something?"

She swallowed. "Absolutely nothing."

"So, you'll let me pay then? I'm not letting you pay."

"Because you assume I can't?"

"What? Jesus Christ, of course not."

"Because I can. I don't need some—"

Their argument was interrupted when the hotel doors flew open, and a rowdy group of drunk men stumbled in. They were wearing glittering party hats with the words, "Pierre's Big One," emblazoned loudly across the top.

Lou's hand clasped his again, stronger this time, in what seemed to be fear rather than protest. Will realised Lou was shaking. He paid silently, and he led her up to her room. Her eyes hadn't left the men until they were safely enclosed in the lift. Something was wrong. Something was so, so wrong. When they reached her door, she refused to let go of his hand. Her knuckles were clenched tight, and had turned a sharp white.

"Lou, you're okay. You can let go."

When she didn't let go, he sighed, and pulled her toward his room. The room was decorated simply, with a king's sized bed, a couch, and a nice lamp. Heavy, thick curtains were pulled open to reveal rays of moonlight that flicked its way across the carpet.

Lou silently detached herself and locked herself in the bathroom. When she emerged twenty minutes later, it was without a word. Lou paid no heed to Will's quizzical looks. She unpacked her suitcase, dressed, and curled up in a ball on the coach with her back to the bed. And him.

His questions would lay unanswered.

When morning broke, a cheery face smiled down at him. The smell of hazelnut coffee greeted his senses.

"Hmmm. When did you wake up?"

"A couple of hours ago." Will pushed himself up, and peered out the window. It had to only be 7:00. She hadn't slept. The circles under her eyes just about confirmed that.

Still smiling, she gestured to the table beside him, to a tray filled with pancakes and waffles.

"Wasn't sure what you wanted, so I ordered both."

"And you?"

"I ate."

Will simply nodded, but silently wondered where her empty tray was if she had really eaten, as she had claimed.

"Listen…about last night..." She kept her eyes down, and that veil of sadness enveloped her again. The light that usually burgeoned within her flickered.

"It's fine."

"No, it's just that—"

"It's part of the longer story."

"Huh?"

Will sipped his coffee and repeated, "The longer story."

"Right."

"My only question is, how did you know that you could trust me to be in the same room? I'm a bloody stranger! I could have been a murderer!" He tried to imitate the impression she had done before.

A laugh escaped her lips, and then, her smile softened. "No…you're not."

The car had been stolen.

Will tried to keep my anger from simmering up to the surface when the tow truck reported back with no sighting of the car. Lou was as cheerful as ever, making yesterday seem like a horrible anomaly.

"We could catch a bus, or a train back to one of the bigger cities?"

"Hmmm." Will took a deep breath. "No. Let's go back slowly." He smiled, his eyes bright. "I'll grab a map."

Will traced his finger along the crisp lines of the map, suggesting they take a look at some sites on their way, to make the most of it. He insisted they make the trip by public transport, or alternatively, hitchhiking. She wasn't as adventurous as that last one, but conceded. Lou was up for it.

And so, they went. They ate their way across France over twenty days; slept in hotels, motels, bed and breakfasts, barnyards. Lou learned to cook croissants and madeleines, make macaroons, which he loved, and banana crepes that were so deliciously perfect, he could have eaten it for days.

He remembered nights where they would lay under the stars and tell stories. He remembered splashing around in rivers, and lakes, fishing in ponds, taste testing blocks of cheese with hilarious trepidation. He remembered her face by the firelight, warm, and caramel, full of light, so beautiful.

Their last day before they reached Paris was swung around far more quickly than either of them had anticipated.

They were at a cosy bed and breakfast on the outskirts of the big city, enjoying one last day of sunshine. Lou was dressed especially brightly today, despite the sober mood. Her bumblebee tights were back, and so were her Leia buns.

"Looks like we're coming full circle."

Her hands flew self-consciously to her buns, and a smile lit her face. The blush that worked its' way across her cheeks made his heart clench.

The days with Lou had been the best of his life. He was away from work, and happily at that, experiencing new things with her, and more importantly, being himself without the slightest bit of consciousness. She had that effect on him. She was so joyful, and unabashed about it, that one couldn't help but feel completely safe and comfortable around her.

She wasn't his typical choice of a woman. Hell, if he had met her at a party or business event, he would not have spared a second look at her. Perhaps not even a first. She was beautiful, but in truth, not the supermodel blonde, leggy type he had developed an affinity for. And yet, whenever she smiled, everything paled in comparison. There was a truth in that smile. His world blurred.

Her brown eyes, her smile, called out to his soul. And he was powerless not to respond.

The last night, they spent lying on her hotel room floor, the windows thrown open, lights low. Lou stuttered, equivocated, and stared. Finally, after several failed beginnings and silences, she began her longer story. She told him where her confidence came from. Why she started wearing outrageous outfits. The reason she had left everything behind and travelled alone overseas, when she had never even been out of her town.

Tears slid unchecked down her cheeks, and she sobbed, and cried, and he held her hand, held her during the heavier moments.

Afterward, there was only silence. And then their eyes met. When her face was only an inch away; so close he could trace her face, her lips with his fingertips; so close he could smell her scent; so close he could see teardrops clinging to the ends of her eyelashes, he pulled back.

"I'm sorry, Lou—"

Her hands, those hands that had clasped his in the lobby that first day, reached out and cupped his face. Words escaped him, letters evaporated. She tipped her forehead forward, and leaned against his. Her breathing was sallow, but sure. Her lips quivered. And then, they moved closer, until he felt them brush, barely, against his own.

"I trust you, William Traynor." Her voice was a whisper, like the wind calling outside.

Will closed his eyes. He swallowed the lump in his throat. "I'm not the guy for you. I'll ruin things…I always have. I'll hurt you, and I won't be able to bear it."

Her response came a few seconds later, a brush of lips against his forehead, his cheeks, and then, his lips once more. And he responded. An irrepressible moan escaped him. Tentatively, slowly, and then deeply, he kissed the woman who had changed everything.

She was beautiful in the morning, tousled hair, and smooth skin like silk, freckled in gold. The sunlight had crept out, until it finally stretched his rays out, bathing her, this angel, in a beautiful, warm light. Will kissed her bare shoulder, her hair, and extremely gently and briefly, her lips.

"Will Traynor, are you watching me? Now, that's creepy." Her murmur did not meet her eyes.

He chuckled, and leaned down to kiss her again. The response was quick, and then pulled him closer, until he was entangled with her again. His heart was so full, he was sure it would burst. She was everything. Her lips were sweet, like the madeleines she made, and unyielding, like no one he had ever had before. When she finally let go of him, something flickered in her eyes.

"What happens now?"

"Everything."

I also apologise for poor historical, geographical, and culinary knowledge of France. I was lazy.