Ezra's flights were uneventful and when he slept, it was fitful as the memories of the Lackland fiasco were fresh in his mind once again. When he arrived he found Paris rainy and cold. Checking into the Hôtelde Crillon, he spent another virtually sleepless night before getting up the next morning to shower, shave and don a fresh suit before he headed out.
Ordinarily Ezra Standish would have loved to have been in Paris where he could replenish his wardrobe and dine out at his favorite restaurants but instead he simply hailed a taxicab to the Paris law offices of Meyers and Brown on the Avenue de l'Opéra. The rain had slowed a little and he turned his coat collar up against the chilled wind and ran into the building's entrance. Five floors above he stood in the reception area and shook hands with a small, balding lawyer with a pencil thin mustache named Bastian who led the ATF agent into his office and indicated a chair in front of a massive wooden desk.
"Mr. Standish," he began, "I realize that this has been a bit of a shock to you."
Ezra snorted. That was an understatement if he'd ever heard one.
"Mannon Lackland, or rather Mannon Channault as she wished to be known, came to me and had me draw up a last will and testament. She was young and in good health but, considering her history, she thought it would be most prudent."
Ezra didn't care about the will, he only wanted to know one thing. "How did she die?" he asked, his face unreadable.
"Well, the police are calling it a botched robbery attempt. Madame, along with her bodyguard, was accosted on the highway as they drove to Lyon. Apparently her car was rear ended by another vehicle and when her driver stopped to investigate the damage, two men wearing masks jumped from the other car." Bastian paused momentarily, "According to Madam's driver, who was unharmed, both she and her bodyguard were shot twice in the head before the others fled. Apparently nothing was taken."
Ezra's jaw clenched and he said through his teeth, "Sounds more like an execution than a robbery."
"I agree. Apparently someone made the connection between Madame Channault and Madame Lackland. It's a shame. She was a lovely woman." The lawyer picked up a copy of the will and handed it to Ezra. "Madame Channault stipulate that her home in Lyon and everything therein is to be sold and the proceeds given to you. Money has already been set aside for the family of her bodyguard and for the perpetual upkeep of the convent and the convent school in Lyon."
As hard as it was for the bodyguard's family, Ezra was thankful that, if she had to face death a second time, she hadn't had to face it alone.
"Madame also left this for you in our vaults." The lawyer handed Ezra an envelope.
The ATF agent didn't know what he expected to find but was surprised when the envelope yielded only a piece of paper on which was written a fifteen-digit number and a cryptic, apparently meaningless word. From experience he knew immediately that it was a bank account number and a password. Be it profit from Lackland's gunrunning or profits from his legitimate businesses Ezra didn't care.
"I don't want this," he said and tried to give the envelope back to the lawyer. He didn't want the money; he wanted what had been taken from him - twice.
"Mr. Standish, I have a DVD I would like you to watch before you decide on anything."
Ezra reluctantly agreed and was shown into a small conference room with a table, a television and DVD player. Both were on and ready to go.
"Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea perhaps?"
Ezra shook his head and sat down at the table. What he wanted was a stiff drink, followed by more stiff drinks.
"Please take all the time you need," the lawyer said as he pressed the start button, dimmed the lights and closed the door quietly behind him.
Light flickered on the television screen and suddenly she was there, smiling radiantly like she hadn't a care in the word, her heart very much in her eyes. Seeing her was a shock and an audible gasp slipped out before Ezra could stop it. She looked very much the same to him, beautiful, her blue eyes shimmering, long dark hair shining like ebony, still young and full of life. She would always be young now, he thought, and tears started to gather in his eyes.
"My dearest, Ezra," she began," If you are watching this than you already know that I am now truly gone. I'm sorry for the confusion this must be causing you but I will try to explain the best I can," she said into the camera, her accent heavier than before. She must have been in France the whole time, he surmised correctly.
"Please forgive me for letting you think that I died that day in Colorado. It was decided, for everyone involved, that a press release would be issued in Denver saying that I had indeed passed away. The disclosure of Kyle's business dealings made me, and anyone close to me, a target."
"I was barely alive when the helicopter left Telluride for Denver but the doctors on board were able to keep me stable until we reached the hospital. When I was stronger, and it was deemed safe, I was moved to a hospital in Switzerland. From there I went back to the convent and started my long convalescence," she continued brushing a long lock of stray hair over her shoulder.
"I know you were at the service and I was told how you suffered and I ask that you forgive me for this, too. I was so pleased that you attended and that your friends were there to support you. I'm also so very pleased that they thought enough of you to take my cross from evidence and give it to you," her eyes crinkled with a knowing smile, "I received it on the day of my confirmation at the convent. It was one of the places I was truly happy, there in Lyon, and in a small cabin in the mountains of Colorado. I hope you will keep it always and think of me."
Tears were running freely down Ezra's face and he wanted desperately to stop the recording, to stop the pain, but his hands refused to cooperate.
"I wear a locket now," she told him and lovingly touched the gold piece hanging between her breasts, so close to her heart. He could plainly see the scar on her neck as she did. "I'm sorry I couldn't let you know that I was alive and well but I couldn't put you in that kind of danger. You're probably thinking that I should have let you make that decision but I know that there is nothing on earth that would have kept you from me or me from you if it were at all possible. I couldn't have born the pain if anything more were to happen to you because of me. Your safety and happiness are my only concern. I'm more selfish than you could have ever known, no?" She laughed like a naughty child and he smiled through his tears.
"I have been watching you from afar and am so proud of what you are doing for the people of your city, the children of your city. You must keep people like Kyle from flourishing no matter the price but please try to be more careful. I worry about you, the chances you take," she admonished him from the screen. "I love you so much and wish our time together had been more."
Mannon's lips trembled a bit as she spoke and the camera stopped recording briefly as she composed herself, he supposed. He, on the other hand, was a complete wreck.
"I have another selfish reason to want you safe, Ezra. You gave me back my heart and my soul and I have been truly happy these past years. Now the time has come for me to return them both to you for safekeeping. Please take care of my heart and soul and know that my love for you will pass through death and into eternity. I will love you always."
Her image faded.
"Oh, God," he whispered, tears coursing down his face, "Why?"
Ezra laid his head on the table and knew he would get no answers. His shoulders quaked with sobs and his heart exploded into a million painful pieces, the sharpest ones sure to kill him, as all of the pain and all of the grief rushed back to embrace him once again.
He thought he had banished his feelings to the far reaches of his soul but he welcomed them back with open arms. He had felt like this for most of his life, lost and alone, alone and so full of hurt that he should have known that the respite would be brief. He leaned back in the chair and stared up at the ceiling, tears sliding from the corners of his red eyes and suddenly he didn't know what to do. He was paralyzed with grief.
Ezra loved Mannon for her selfish concern for his well-being and, at the same time, he hated her for the very same reason. He berated himself for not instinctively knowing that, against all odds, she had lived. He began to wallow in what seemed a bottomless pit of despair and guilt. Killing her once had not been enough. He had killed her again by proxy, her death no doubt the direct result of the ATF operation, the case where he had in inadvertently thrown her to the wolves.
He wished fervently that he could share the pain and the guilt with her bastard of a husband but Lackland, if he was even capable of feeling such things, was dead. Ezra was not...not yet. He could do it, he thought. It would be easy. He wouldn't even have to pull the trigger himself, just do something so rash and stupid on the job that someone else would do his dirty work for him.
Having long since given up on organized religion, Ezra had held out hope that there was a place where sufferers like himself would finally be free of the pain. It was a small dream he had held onto as a child when times got rough and now it seemed as if it was all he had left as an adult. He pushed the thought of suicide from his mind. He didn't want to think about it or anything else. He just wanted to leave, to get back on a plane and go...anywhere.
Standing, Ezra wiped his face on his handkerchief and ejected the DVD. He didn't think he'd ever be able to watch it again but couldn't just leave it for some office lackey to watch instead of a soap opera during his lunch hour. Taking in a cleansing breath, he opened the door and walked back into the waiting room and stopped dead in his tracks. Mannon's death had robbed him of his will to live but, as she had said in the video, she had left him a reason to go on living. Her heart and soul.
The child, dwarfed by the large overstuffed chair, sat and checked him out through squinted eyes. She was a dark haired miniature of her beautiful mother - except for her eyes. They were green. They were his eyes and already guarded and suspicious at the tender age of four.
"Monsieur Standish," the nun, who had accompanied the child to Paris from her home on the convent grounds, stood and said with a sad smile, "May I present mademoiselle Lily Channault."
Ezra squatted down and, resting his hands on the arms of the chair, looked into his daughter's face for the first time and fell hopelessly in love. "Bonjour, Lily," he said with a tentative smile.
"Bonjour," she answered in a tiny voice. She did not return his smile - even tentatively.
Ezra noticed the small suitcase next to the chair and sighed. This child's world had been turned completely upside down and he wanted her to feel safe and secure as soon as possible. "Are you ready to go home?" he asked her.
Lily eyed him, suspiciously at first, then steadily and, after a few minutes in which Ezra's heart pounded wildly, she finally held out her hand and slowly uncurled her fingers. A gold locket rested in her palm.
Ezra took it gently from her and felt the warmth of it being held so tightly. He opened it and inside there were two small photographs. One of Mannon and another of himself taken on night they had first met. He looked up and a watery sigh escape Lily as she stared at the locket, her locket.
"I miss her, too, cherie," he whispered and reached out to fasten the locket around her neck. He then extended his arms and she came willingly into them. Arising, he held her tightly and asked, " Can you please call a taxi. I'd like to take her back to the hotel with me now if that's all right."
Bastian picked up the phone to call a taxi while the nun, her assignment now complete, laid her hand gently on the child's head and said, "Au revoir, ma petite," and, just as Ezra had feared, Lily buried her face in his chest and started to cry.
Five days later, after establishing his parental rights and securing a passport for his daughter, they boarded a jet headed back to New York. The two of them had spent their time in France getting to know one another. Lily's grasp of the English language was commendable for a child so young while Ezra's French, although rusty, was quite serviceable. They shopping and saw the sights of the City of Lights before heading to Lyon.
Once there, the two of them visited the large house in which Lily and Mannon had lived and the convent where Lily had been tutored in both French and English. It was also where Mannon was buried and together they placed red roses and blue statice on her grave, the flowers of love and of remembrance.
Now, looking down at his sleeping child covered by a blanket, her head on the small airline pillow in his lap, he placed his hand gently on her back just to feel her breathe. The flight attendants continued to be especially solicitous, fawning over the two of them and Ezra laughed to himself sure that Buck would soon be an enthusiastic baby-sitter once he realized the power of an unattached man with one small girl in his charge.
In his luggage were the remaining papers from the lawyer's office. He would not risk being accused of being 'on the take' and would contact the proper authorities immediately concerning the off shore bank account and abide by their wishes. He had a strong suspicion that the money was untouchable and that the only thing the government could do was tax the hell out of it. Even with that being the case, he could well afford to keep Lily safe and secure for the rest of her life as well as help others such as Vin's street kids and Josiah's congregation.
Along with the legal paperwork there were also letters to him. Mannon had written often telling him about everything; her pregnancy, Lily's birth, her fears as a new mother and her love for them both. Every aspect of Lily's life was there for him to read about and to see in the hundreds of photographs she had taken along with the many home videos. As things had ended up, he could never have been there with them but Mannon had made sure he would miss nothing. From what he had read in the hotel room, long after Lily had fallen asleep, he believed her mother had spoiled Lily outrageously and he would probably do the same.
Ensconced in a New York hotel room and unable to sleep long after he had bathed Lily and tucked her in, Ezra wrote his own letter to Mannon telling her how much he loved her and thanking her for her faith in him to care for and raise their daughter. He also wrote of his fears of being a new father and of the anticipation of milestones to come, like his daughter's first day at school, her first crush, her first kiss.
He would show the letter to Lily someday, perhaps to explain to her why he had threatened to kick the ass of the first boy who tried to kiss her, and he smiled both dreading and looking forward to the future. If his daughter was anything like her mother it would be quit a ride.