That evening Simonne had a performance and after that she and Etienne were obligated to go to dinner at their father's house, so that left Richard and Emma to spend the evening together. Richard was afraid it would be awkward, all things considered, but when Emma stepped out of her hotel, the first thing she did was give Richard a strong hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"What, mm, is that for?" he asked, because the last time she'd done that Richard had just taken the blame and the punishment for something Emma had done. Emma just laughed and smiled at her brother.

"Simonne said you probably wouldn't have figured it out yet," she said enigmatically. "And she made me promise not to tell you if you hadn't. She said it would be better if you figured it out on your own."

"You two, mm. Worked things out, then?" Richard asked as they began walking. Etienne had given him a map and directions to a couple of different places they might enjoy, so Richard was heading in the direction of a restaurant Etienne recommended.

"Yes," Emma said. "That woman is incapable of holding a grudge, it seems. She said she completely understands that I only have your best interest at heart, and that it was her fault for breaking it to me in such an indelicate manner. Which is ridiculous because I'm the one who brought it up out of nowhere, knowing full well she would answer me honestly. So I feel even worse for the way I acted because she was apparently over it five minutes after she walked out of Etienne's apartment. And she said I was probably right with some of the things I said. She said she tried very hard to imagine herself surviving on the farm and she's fairly certain she would fail because she was inept at cooking, wouldn't know what to do with a cow, and didn't get how a live chicken became dinner. She understands that eggs come from chickens, but the poor girl thought chickens only laid eggs if they were fertilized so she
always felt bad eating baby chickens. I set her straight on that, but I think I almost made her sick when I told her what a fertilized egg looks like when you crack it open. I mean, she turned the most frightening shade of green! I didn't think it was that bad, really..."

"You have to. Understand," Richard interjected. "Simonne, mm. Never left Paris. Until this. Year, and then. All she, mm, did was take. A train...through the countryside. Get on a ship for a, mm. Week, then go. From big city to. Big city. Do you, mm. Ever notice the. Wistful look. She gets, mm. When you talk about...the farm?"

"I have, actually. I always wondered at it."

"For Simonne, our. Farm is, mm. Like Paris was. To us, mm. Someplace so completely different. From the only...thing. Mm, you know. Sure, you've. Read about it, but mm, it almost...seems to good. To be true. So you don't. Quite...believe in it, but. Mm, at the. Same time, all you want. Is to. Be there. When I first. Met her, mm. She seemed most interested. In the solitude. And the openness. She said...sometimes. There are alleys where. You, mm. Can't see the sky. And there are. Always people around. She longs for. Mm, a place where it's just her. And her thoughts. Can you see. Why, mm. The farm seems so. Interesting to her?"

"Yes," Emma admitted. "But by the same logic, can you see why she could probably never live on one?"

"You're forgetting. Human ability to, mm. Adapt. I think Simonne. Would mm, be able. To earn her keep."

"Thinking of bringing her home with you some day?" Emma asked playfully.

"This is, mm. The restaurant," he said, holding the door open for her.

"Nice way of avoiding my question," Emma said with a grin as she stepped through the door. Richard grinned back at her and followed. Once they were seated and had ordered, they chatted about inconsequential things for a time, but once their food arrived, topics turned to more important matters.

"While Simonne and I were out," Emma said, "I gave a lot of thought to what you told me earlier. About your...responsibilities and, um...current employment." Richard pushed his food around on his plate, nervously waiting for her response. He was not automatically going to assume that she would say she couldn't deal with it, although he was braced for it, just in case. "When you first told me, I admit, I was appalled, but after further thought, I understand why you do what you do. Well, sort of. I admire your loyalty, not only to your friend, but to his son. I don't think too many men in your line of work would do what your doing, for the reasons you're doing them. Just promise me you'll be as safe as can be. And know that, if there ever is a time when you're ready to walk away, there's always a place for you at home."

Richard looked at his sister carefully, and after a moment, he nodded. "Thank you," he said. "That means. A lot to. Me."

"Good," Emma replied. "And know, if you feel compelled to bring home a certain perky little French sprite, I'm sure we'll have hours of entertainment watching her try to milk a cow." Richard couldn't help but laugh at the mental picture of Simonne trying it. "She'd probably. Talk, mm, to the cow, and, mm. Have the cow milking. Herself...by the time she's. Mm done."

Emma laughed at that as well. "She would! Now, stop pushing your food around your plate and eat, Richard," she lightly scolded. Richard looked around the restaurant, noted that there was no one sitting near them, and popped a small bite of food into his mouth. He hated eating with his mask on, it was so awkward getting the food into his mouth, and the chewing sometimes made his mask rub against his scars, but he didn't know when he might next sit down for dinner with his sister, and he didn't want to ruin this evening. They ate and talked, and before they knew it, the waiter was clearing their plates and bringing them their check. Richard settled the bill, and the Harrow twins headed out to explore Paris a bit. Richard offered his sister his arm, and they walked and took in the sights. He told her about the day he had met Simonne. Emma noticed a slight change in Richard's demeanor as he spoke of that day. It was almost like she was seeing the brother she had seen off for basic training, not the brother who had come home shell-shocked and scarred. The soft tone of his voice spoke more than his actual words, especially when he spoke of that magical moment on top of the Eiffel Tower, describing the view, the feeling of being on top of the world, the moment Simonne had leaned in and kissed him.

"You're in love with her, aren't you?" Emma asked gently, watching his face carefully.

"I think. Mm, I am," he admitted. "But I don't. Know. I can't compare. What, mm. I feel for her. To anything I've ever. Felt before. It's different. From everything."

"I'm certainly not an expert, but I think when you fall in love with someone, it's supposed to be different. I mean, there's love for your family, which is like a soft warm blanket. And love for a true friend, which is..." She waved her hands a bit, as if she were trying to draw the words to her.

"It's a. mm, pull," Richard said, thinking of how he had felt for Jimmy. "You just. Need to, mm. Be there, and have them there. When you. Need them. You know...that you. Would do, mm. Anything for them. And that. They would. Mm, do anything. For you"

"Right. And I guess, since when you fall in love with someone, they become your family, and your friend, and something more besides, I would think that true love is like family love, plus your love for a friend, but there's something more besides, because this person that you're in love with is so much more than just family, or just a friend."

Richard regarded his sister, amazed at her insight. She might not be an expert, but she had just nailed what he felt whenever he was around Simonne on the head.

"If you are in love with her," Emma said, looking at him with an odd glimmer in her eyes. "I wish the two of you nothing but happiness. She's done a lot for you. She's helped you find yourself again. I wish I could have, but I wasn't the right person to do it."

"I think. I needed to hit, mm, my lowest point," Richard said, "before I really. Started to,mm. Heal." And so he told her about the day in the woods, when he had come so close to ending his life. He tried to explain how bleak it had been for him, the desperation that drove him to that point. But it was so hard to recapture that, because he had moved so far beyond it in the months since. It was almost like trying to explain a book that someone who had only skimmed it had told him about. It just didn't quite work, not to his satisfaction, but Emma understood, and she listened carefully to his story, and when he was done she said "So, really, I need to thank the Darmodys, a scarred dog, two scruffy woodsmen, and Simonne for bring you back?"

"Mm, yes," Richard admitted, echoing her small smile. Wordlessly, Emma slipped her arm around her brother's waist and gave him a hug, it was like the ones they used to share in their youth, when they would tell each other their hopes, dreams and fears. Richard wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and as their eyes met, he felt another one of those pieces of him slip back into place. And when it did, something became crystal clear to him: When he had thought Etienne had taken advantage of Emma, the only thought on his mind was to go hurt Etienne for doing that to his sister. That wasn't the action of a man who felt nothing for someone. That was the action of a brother who was terribly concerned for the sister he loved.

"Oh." That was all he said as the realization sank in. Such a small word, but Emma heard a world of amazement and wonder in it. He had said the same thing in the same tone often when they were younger, from coming across two fox kits in the shrubs when they were eight, to the first time they saw the glory of a meteor shower, or when their mother was explaining their lessons and Richard finally understood a tricky problem. In that tiny word, Emma knew her brother was one step closer to coming home. She knew he might never come back, and she was slowly starting to accept that. It was hard, but after spending the day wit Simonne, she looked at the situation differently than she had. What she really wanted now, more than anything, was for Richard to be happy with who he was.

"Figured something out, did you?" she asked quietly.

"Mm, I know. Why you hugged me. Earlier," he replied, looking at her as if he saw her in a new light. And in a way, he did. It was the first time he'd looked at her in a long time and felt something other than _. It wasn't exactly the full force of emotion that he recalled, but it was definitely love.

That was all either of them said for a while. They walked along in comfortable silence, then Emma asked Richard to describe Atlantic City, then she asked him what Tommy was like, then if he had kept up on reading, and question after question, trying to catch up with as much of his life as she could. They stopped for coffee at a small café,although Richard did nothing more than occasionally stir his, and they talked mostly of 'remember when' moments. And before they knew it, it was well past eleven o'clock. It was turning colder, the snow coming down as stinging pellets rather than the soft, fluffy flakes of the night before. Richard hailed a cab, saw Emma up to her hotel room, although he declined her invitation to stay a while. As much as he would have wanted to stay, he was tired, and he had so much to think about. He bid her good night, hailed a cab, went back to his hotel, and when he finally laid down he repeated one phrase...

I love you, Simonne...

While the Harrow dinner went well, the Delacroix dinner did not...

Simonne was trying to come up with plausible excuses she could use to escape what was becoming a long, boring dinner with her father, step-mother, brother and some of her father's business associates. She was tired of making chit-chat with the stodgy old lawyer who had been handling her father's affairs for years, and she was fairly certain if he said, just one more time, that she was the spitting image of her mother, she was going to shove a fork through his eye. She looked at the clock on the wall, then rolled her eyes. She'd been there two hours, and saw no signs of getting out any time soon. She caught Etienne's eye across the table and made a face. He gave a tiny shrug, stuck as he was in conversation with one of their father's younger associates, perhaps he wasn't quite as miserable as she was?

She nodded and "mm-hmm"ed as the man next to her talked, once more, about how much she looked like her mother, and how it was a shame her mother passed as such a young age, and oh, her mother had been the belle of Paris, and it was clear Simonne was on her way to being the same, and on and on...darn, the servants had already cleared her dirty silverware...no fork through his eye, it seemed.

She was about to make some excuse about needing to use the bathroom when her father stood up and cleared his throat.

"My friends, thank you for joining myself and my family for the evening. Amazing to think another year is nearly at an end. I raise a glass to a new year filled with prosperity. And to that end, I actually have an announcement to make. Pierre Dubois presented an offer for my daughter's hand, and I have accepted it."

Simonne's head snapped up, first looking at her father, then to the man sitting beside him, this Pierre Dubois. She had been introduced to him earlier, but had not had any sort of conversation with him, since her step-mother, Marie, insisted on hounding Simonne about standing up straighter and at least looking like she wanted to be there, along with scathing remarks about Simonne's choice of dress. Pierre looked down the table at her and gave her a smile that made the skin on her back shiver, not pleasantly. She then looked across the table to Etienne, who looked as stunned as she felt. Her next glance was at her step-mother, who looked like the cat who had just gotten the canary.

There was a cry of 'Congratulations!' and glasses were raised and drained. Simonne felt numb inside. She did not want to marry this man, this absolute stranger. There had to be someway out of this?

"Papa," Simonne said, "may I speak with you a moment, please?"

"You are not getting out of this, Simonne," Marie said from the end of the table. "It has been arranged."

"But..."

"Ah, ma chérie," Pierre said in what should have been a reassuring tone but did nothing to soothe Simonne. "I know this comes as a shock, but do not worry. It is for the best."

Not my best, Simonne wanted to scream. But she had a feeling that would be pointless. The only one here who would care was Etienne, and he was as powerless as she was in this situation. She sank into herself, ignoring everything around her as she tried to think of some way to get out of this horrible situation. It must have been nearly an hour later when she found Pierre Dubois at her arm.

"Come, Simonne," he said "We must go share the joyous news with my family," he said, holding her coat out to her.

"I, um..." She was going to say she'd rather not, but she knew that would be pointless. So with a sigh, she stood and slipped into her coat. While Pierre shook hands with everyone Simonne ducked over to Etienne, nearly breaking into tears when he hugged her.

"Are you alright?" he whispered, knowing full well she wasn't

"No," she whispered back. "This is horrible. I don't want to marry him."

"I'll try to talk to Papa," Etienne promised. "Assuming I can get Marie away from him for a few minutes."

"I can only wish you luck," she said. "I will try to be a horrible person so he doesn't want to marry me."

"You don't have a horrible bone in your body," Etienne said with a small smile.

"I can but try," she said, giving him one last squeeze. "I shouldn't be too late. I will meet his family, then plead a headache. Not that I do not have one building. At least it won't be a lie."

Etienne couldn't think of anything to say, so he only hugged her tighter before letting her go. He watched as Dubois possessively took Simonne's arm and led her from his parents house. Then he looked around the room, noticing that Marie was busy flirting with one of his father's long standing friends, and his father was alone by the mantle. Etienne quickly moved to his father's side, grabbed his arm, and led him away from the crowd.

"What was that?" Etienne hissed. "How could you do that to Simonne?"

"Had to," his father replied. It was obvious that Gerard Delacroix was very drunk. "Dubois threatened to call in our debts if I didn't give him Simonne."

"You sold her!" Etienne cried, not realizing his voice had risen.

"It was that or we end up broke," Marie hissed. She had approached them when she saw them talking. "If your sister does not marry him, we lose the house, the land, everything."

"So what?"

"So what?" Marie spat. "Do you want to give up that posh little apartment? Do you want to loose everything that allows you to live your deviant lifestyle?"

Etienne's eyes narrowed, and he came very close to punching his step-mother. He looked from her, to his father, then shook his head.

"You've just ruined her," he said, backing away from them. "Possibly killed her. She does not want to do this, but you do not care, do you? Either of you?" And he turned and left, went home and waited for Simonne to come home. He would get her out of this. He had to.