Hi there! Long time no see, right?

Haha, I know, this is another early chapter update,

but I wanted to get this out there before the rush of finals!

I hope you enjoy it! Please leave a review!

Later

"She says the store is doing well," Florian said quietly.

Roger opened his sleepy eyes and sat straight in his chair. He gruffly cleared his throat. Florian sat beside him, leaning over the pile of letters, reading carefully, and asking questions about points of detail.

"I imagine so. It always is," Roger commented with a weary chuckle.

It'd been almost an hour since Florian's memory began to return and he was making great improvement. After few songs on the violin and a dozen or so letters, he was able recall most everything, or at least enough to piece together a story in his head.

"Agnes went to visit Henri in France," Florian continued on with the letter he held, "Josie says she thinks they will marry there. Did they marry, in the end? Are they living here in London?"

"Yes, they were married. But they moved away," Roger explained, "They returned to France after the war. Henri was..." he paused to think of the right words, "Well, he needed time away from the city," he smiled faintly as he thought of the couple and how much they meant to Josie, "They visit sometimes, for holidays. Josie is godmother to their daughter, actually."

Florian smiled and turned back to his letter. Roger saw a blush spread across the young man's face.

"She says she wishes she could - "

"You know you don't have to read aloud everything," Roger stated abruptly, "These are private conversations between you and Josie, and I hardly think Antoine wants to hear it."

"Nor you, I imagine," Antoine directed to Roger from the other side of the room.

Roger glared as Antoine munched on a piece of toast from the breakfast tray. They had called for it when Florian's appetite began to return, although it was Antoine who ultimately partook of the generous serving.

Roger stood and walked about for a moment, watching in silent dismay as the lights in Florian's eyes sparkled with every word he read. The young man was remembering so much, which was exactly what Roger wanted. But it would change everything.

Josie would learn the truth.

She would come to know what part Roger played in the whole business. What would she say? How would she react?

Roger turned and looked at himself through the mirror on the wall. He knew Josie would despise him. She would return to her life with Florian and she would not take a single backward glance. She had every right to and Roger could hardly argue. But he still loved her.

God, he loved her.

He saw a movement from the corner of his eye and he turned to see Florian walking to the far window, reading a different letter.

"Why did I go to fight?" he asked quietly, "I wanted to marry her...Why would I leave her like that?"

Roger glanced across at Antoine, who now leaned back in his chair, casually sipping tea.

"The war was extremely turbulent at that time. There was no clear end in sight. Everyone was scrambling to find that extra something which might overthrow the enemy," Roger tried to explain, "England, for instance, began accepting older men into the army. Even I was called to service for a time," he shrugged and hung his head, "Perhaps you felt guilty, for staying behind while others fought for your homeland."

Florian blinked and looked out of the window, "Was it really so bad?" he glanced down at the letter in his hand, "I write of men dying, everywhere. Blood and smoke. I know I wrote the words in these letters, but surely I was exaggerating."

Antoine shrugged, "If you bent the truth at all, you weakened it. For her sake. You would not have wanted to worry her with stories of the bloodshed."

Florian inhaled sharply and reached out a hand to lean on a nearby chair.

"Are you alright?" Roger asked as Florian sat down abruptly.

"The cannon-fire haunted me for months after it all ended," Antoine went on, oblivious to his friend's state, "You remember my nightmares, Florian? You thought I was going crazy. And I was, in a way," he sighed and shrugged as he poured himself more tea, "It was a terrible time, my friend. Be glad you do not remember it."

As Antoine spoke, a truck rumbled to a stop outside on the street and there came a shouting as workmen began to unload it. It was a normal enough commotion, but Florian's face went white. Roger stood and moved towards him.

"Mr. Dupont?" he laid a hand on Florian's shoulder and could feel it shaking, "What is the matter?"

There was a sharp bang and Florian shot up from his seat and rushed to the other side of the room.

"Someone dropped a parcel in the truck outside," Antoine tried to calm him, "That is all. My friend, what is wrong?" he asked, walking to Florian and holding his arm to steady him.

"I do not know..." he muttered, looking around the room in fear, "I thought...This isn't right. I see things...horrible things," he closed his eyes and shook his head, but opened them again, "In my head, it's there. But it is not right. Why do I see this?"

"What do you see?" Roger asked, but another loud crash from the street sent Florian into a panic.

"No...no, no! God, no!" He murmured, falling to his knees and putting his hands over his ears, "No...I don't want this! Get it away! Please..."

He rocked back and forth, and curled in on himself as though to shield out whatever horror he saw in his mind. Roger knelt down beside him and held his shoulders, making Florian look him in the eye.

"Florian, talk to us," he begged, "What do you see? How can we help?"

Florian only grew worse. A fit of sobbing tore through him and it was all Roger could to do keep him from collapsing over onto the floor.

Roger looked up to Antoine, his eyes widened in confusion and worry, "I don't understand. What's the matter with him?"

Antoine ran a hand through his hair and paced the length of the room, "Dear God...We have been so blind. How did I not know this would happen?"

"What are you talking about?" Roger asked.

Florian broke from his grasp and stood, stumbling to the door. He clung to the door frame, trembling in terror.

Antoine walked to him and touched his arm, "Mon ami..."

Without word or warning, Florian turned on him, taking Antoine by the throat and forcing him against the wall. His movement was brutal and instant. His eyes were fierce with anger and his body was rigid as he pushed Antoine up on his tip-toes.

"Florian, stop this!" Roger called out, racing to him, "You'll kill him!"

Antoine strained for air and clung to Florian's fingers, their tight grip on his throat growing stronger by the second.

"Florian, stop this," Roger begged, putting a firm hand on his shoulder.

Almost as instantly as it appeared, Florian's rage died away. His eyes softened and he loosened his hold on Antoine, who fell to the ground gasping for air.

"What have I done?" Florian whispered, stepping back in a daze, "That was not me...I did not mean to..."

"Florian, you have to tell me what's wrong," Roger began, but Florian continued.

"I could have killed you," he said, staring down at Antoine, "My dear friend...How could I do that to you? I do not understand..." he looked at his shaking hands and then at Roger, "What is happening to me?"

The telephone at the front desk rang and Florian looked out into the hall, his eyes alert and terrified.

"It was nothing," Roger assured him, "Florian, it was only the telephone."

It rang out again and Florian shook his head, "No! No...no...I have to get out of here."

"Florian, wait!" Roger called out as Florian ran from the room and into the lobby.

Antoine began to cough horribly and Roger knelt to assist him, but looked up in time to see Florian race out the front door and into the foggy street.

"We must go after him," Antoine muttered, trying to stand, "He will kill himself out there."

"I do not understand," Roger blurted as he helped Antoine to his feet, "What is happening to him?"

Antoine took a deep breath, "You wanted him to remember Josie, but you have only made things worse."

"What are you - "

"It is not your fault alone," Antoine interrupted, anger in his voice, "I should have seen this coming...I should have stopped you from letting him remember..."

Roger snapped, his patience reaching its limit, "For God's sake, man, tell me what is wrong with him!"

"He remembers everything: Josie, London," Antoine took a deep breath as he explained, "But also the war. The fighting. The trenches. The death. Everything.

Roger's heart stopped, "My God..."

He had never once considered that Florian might remember the war. But of course he would. If he could remember Josie and his love for her, how could he not also remember the war?

And now those horrific memories were being forced back to the surface of Florian's mind and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it. Florian was reliving everything from his years on the front, very gunshot, every cannon blast, every fallen soldier...everything he'd experienced was coming back to him all in the span of a few moments. And his body and mind could not possibly handle the stress, the fear, the anger.

Roger knew the poor man would go mad out in the busy London streets, and he hated to think what could happen to him.

"Come," he said, seeing how Antoine regained his strength, "He can't have gone far. We must find him before it's too late."

Almost as soon as the words escaped his mouth, screeching tires and car horns erupted outside on the street. Shouts of confusion rang out, but it was a single woman's scream which made the hairs on Roger's neck stand straight.

"Somebody help! Please, anybody!"

Oh dear...

What a mess we're in now!

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