A/N: Not quite a month since the last update, so consider this "early." Hope y'all enjoy it, and as always, please review if you feel so inclined. Also, thanks to all of you who continue to support this story; I'm also getting new follows and favorites almost daily, and I'm so grateful! You guys are awesome!

Disclaimer: Not mine, just what I've made up.

Grell Sutcliffe suddenly appeared upon the roof of Warwick Mercantile and immediately ducked behind the cluster of smokestacks that occupied nearly half of the rooftop. No sooner had he disappeared behind brick and smoke, did another Reaper appear.

The newcomer was blonde and much younger than the redhead, and very frustrated. "Damnit, Sutcliffe!" Ronald Knox yelled to the sky. "You're signing your own death sentence!"

Grell quietly scoffed back an answer; he very much wanted to call out that he was a Reaper, a friend of Death, and that threats like that didn't scare him. But, he had taken too much time to think of an escape from his young Reaper baby-sitter (just what was Will thinking?) to ruin things by being captured so easily.

Ronald paced back and forth across the roof, muttering to himself. A few times he had come so close to discovering his wayward charge, but his anger and frustration had gotten the better of him and his eyesight, hiding Grell from view. In the end, he stomped over to the roof's edge and let out a loud, primal growl of frustration that made the redhead's groin tingle.

"I hope you fall on your scythe!" Ron finally yelled, right before disappearing.

Grell counted to twenty before peaking around from his hiding spot. It was another thirty seconds before he ventured a ways out, and yet another twenty to skip to the very spot that Ron had disappeared from.

Smiling to himself, he let out a huge sigh, then gazed out among the city of London.

"Now," he said, adjusting his bright red coat around him as his eyes took on a dangerous glint. "Where to find the shameless hussy who stole my Bassy?"

He leapt to the next roof, his attention on only half of his actions. The rest of his mind was occupied with the information Will had let slip: Sebastian Michaelis, contracted demon to that brat Ciel Phantomhive, had gone and married himself to a Restored Soul.

There had been talk about protecting the pathetic human, but Grell had tuned all of that out; he had more important things to worry about, and that included finding the whore who had seduced his demon!

The angrier he got with the thought, the faster Grell moved through the city. Buildings and crowded streets gave way to dirt roads and towering trees, until the Reaper found himself perched upon the tallest rooftop of the Phantomhive Manor.

Everything seemed quiet. From his perch, he could see the bumbling maid named Mei-Rin struggling to collect the day's washing from the clothesline, those ridiculous round glasses hindering her sight. He watched her for a moment, fumbling with the clean linen, before turning his attention away to the grounds behind the manor, his eyes immediately finding what he sought.

Just inside the woods that bordered the estate, a small cottage stood, quaint and inviting. Grell hopped to the very edge of the roof and focused all of his attention on the building, a sneer crossing his face, exposing his razor-like teeth.

The fragrant smell of apples and cinnamon wafted up and greeted him, and the Reaper felt his upper lip curl in disgust. As invigorating and sweet as the scent was, it was the thought of who it belonged to that made his blood boil.

Grell was not a demon, but he could see how the scent of a Restored Soul could entice any demon; the aroma was relaxing, but at the same time, enough to drive anyone- demon, Reaper, or human -to madness.

"Bassy is not in his right mind," Grell reassured himself. "That was how that Soul got him to marry her. She's an enchantress, a witch!" He gave the most unladylike growl that what have horrified himself, had he not been so infuriated by his thoughts.

There was no other explanation; he was entirely convinced that the Restored Soul had taken advantage of Sebastian during the confusion such a scent would cause, how else could it have happened? In all of their run-ins, hadn't Sebastian made it clear that humans held no interest for him? That their pathetic souls were the only reason a demon would take notice of them?

Why then, would he marry a being that disgusted him?

As he bothered himself with trying to figure out the puzzle that was Sebastian Michaelis, the door to the cottage suddenly opened. Drawn in and curious, Grell peered closer, his eyes widening as he recognized Michael the Archangel exiting the building.

His green eyes practically bulging from their sockets, the redhead gaped. "Shameless!" he hissed in disgust.

That was it! He had to see this hussy for himself! How was it that a human could entice not only a demon, but an angel? Grell had no clue, but he was going to find out!

He watched as Michael suddenly disappeared from view and the Reaper prepared to storm the cottage. His beloved death scythe appeared in his hands, roaring to life. He revved the machine once for good measure, his grin widening with pleasure. However, before he could move an inch, a hand gripped his shoulder, hard, making the Reaper wince.

Michael stood behind him, smiling. "And, what are you doing here, Reaper Sutcliffe?" he asked, pleasantly. His eyes narrowed, a tell tale sign that his smile conveyed something other than happiness, but as usual, the redhead was oblivious to the fact.

Grell squeaked in surprise, then fell over himself at the angel's attractiveness. "Fancy running into you here!" he said, grinning. He immediately straightened himself up and made an exaggerated showing of smoothing out his suit and jacket, all the while coyly smiling.

There was no reaction from the angel. "Yes," Michael agreed, coolly. "What a coincidence."

Grell stepped closer to him, until the stood toe-to-toe. "And, what brings you here to this dreary place today, darling?" he asked, teasingly.

"I could ask the same thing of you, dear," Michael answered. "I don't think any reapings have been scheduled here."

"You never know!" Grell sang out.

The angel's eyebrow quirked up. "Of course I would," he told him. "I am, after all, the one who creates the Lists for you Reapers."

The redhead had the sense to look flustered at his words. His smile faltered for the tiniest of seconds before replying, "Just taking a breather, handsome! Reaping gets so exhausting sometimes!"

Michael grinned. "The last I was aware of, you had been put on a special assignment," he said.

Caught in his lie, Grell visibly gulped. "Well," he stammered, "patrolling was never my strong point."

"Ah, but it is most helpful when dealing with the business of a Restored Soul," Michael told him, looking a bit morose. "And, I could use all the help I can get." He locked gazes with the Reaper and allowed his smile to slip a bit.

Grell nearly melted into a puddle at his feet, touched by his solemn expression. "Of course, darling!" he immediately exclaimed. "Helping strong, handsome men is what I'm good at!"

The angel smiled brightly, gratitude written all over his face. "Wonderful!" he said, clapping his hands together. His right hand opened, palm up, and a rolled up piece of parchment suddenly appeared.

"Take this back to William," he said, handing him the parchment. "It is very important that you take it directly to him. Please wait for an answer."

The Reaper excitedly took the parchment from him, eager to help; one never knew what rewards one could receive for helping an angel, but Grell had a few suggestions. Blowing a kiss towards the angel, the Reaper headed back to the city, easily skimming the treetops of the woods that surrounded the Phantomhive brat's manor. It was only when on the borders of the Phantomhive estate did he dare a peek at the message, for what better way to help Will as well?

He unrolled the paper with shaking fingers, excitement coursing through his body.

The paper was empty.

"What?!"

After his little run-in with Reaper Sutcliffe, Michael had been sure that no other encounters would be as amusing. But, as he gazed at Sebastian, standing amidst the large Phantomhive kitchen with his eyes wide and mouth agape, he realized he had just been proven wrong.

"Her request really shouldn't come as a surprise, Sebastian," he said, chuckling, thoroughly amused by the demon's reaction. "It's been almost a week."

A scowl crossed the butler's face when he realized the angel was laughing at him. "Even so!" he hissed, his eyes narrowing. "It does not change the fact that my wife will be in danger the moment she steps foot off of Phantomhive land!" He stomped over to one of the kitchen's many counters and slammed a copper pot onto its surface.

Michael sighed, his eyes following him "She wants to see her family, Sebastian," he said, softly, almost pleading. "She needs to see them."

Another pot joined the other with a loud bang. "No."

The angel rolled his eyes. "I will be with her at all times," he insisted.

The demon butler glared at him. "I couldn't keep her safe," he growled. "What makes you think your companionship will be any different?"

Michael suddenly grinned. "My obvious answer might be a blow to your ego, butler," he replied, chuckling.

Sebastian scoffed, his lip curled. "And, I thought demons were supposed to be the arrogant, pompous fools," he muttered.

The blonde laughed, loudly. "Not arrogant, just honest," he told the disgruntled butler. "An angel's power does come from the highest authority, after all."

The demon snorted with disgust and muttered something entirely inappropriate, which the angel cheerfully ignored.

"I shall return to Vanessa now," Michael announced, sensing no more protests were forthcoming. "We'll be leaving within the hour." He gave the slightest of bows to the demon, then gracefully straightened himself up.

Sebastian stiffly nodded, but said nothing. He watched as the angel prepared to "blink" away, then quickly called out to him.

Michael paused. "Yes?" he asked, curiously.

Sebastian paused for a moment, quelling the annoyance and anger he felt. "Please," he finally said, softly. "Keep her safe."

A gentle smile graced the angel's face. "Of course," he said. With a final nod exchanged between them, he suddenly disappeared.

And, Sebastian began to worry.

Vanessa sat on the soft, cushioned seat inside of Earl Phantomhive's lesser carriage, lost in her thoughts. The window had been put down, allowing the cool spring air in. It felt refreshing as it danced across her face.

Michael sat across from her, his hands folded loosely in his lap as the driver guided the carriage along the dirt road. He glanced over at his companion a few times, concern evident in his blue eyes.

"I'm alright," Vanessa said, softly. Although she had spoken, her eyes remained downcast and locked upon her lap, but the angel's gaze was hard to ignore.

"Forgive me, Vanessa," Michael apologized. "I can't help but be concerned."

"I know," she whispered. She shifted slightly in her seat, then added, "Thank you for coming with me today."

This made him smile. "It is my pleasure, I assure you, Vanessa," he told her.

She fell silent for a moment, her eyes darting out to the scene outside her window. "I needed to get away," she explained.

He nodded. "Of course," he said, completely understanding.

"The cottage was becoming a bit stifling," she continued. Her hands began to play with the skirt of her dress, her teeth worrying her bottom lip.

"I understand, I assure you," he said, soothingly.

Her eyes suddenly met his. "But," she began, hesitantly, almost afraid, "is it...alright? That I'm outside, I mean?"

He could see she was remembering the incident with Roldon, her fear more evident as her fingers began to more violently twist the material in her hands. He reached a hand out to place over hers, and almost immediately, her fidgeting stopped.

"As I told Sebastian," he explained, gently, "I am perfectly capable of protecting you."

At the mention of her husband, Vanessa's eyes widened. "You...spoke to him?" she asked.

Michael nodded. "I thought it best to inform him of your plans."

She said nothing, instead averting her eyes.

"He's very concerned about you, Vanessa," he told her, softly.

She remained quiet.

The angel tried again. "He loves y-" he began.

Vanessa sniffled. "I don't want to talk about him, please," she whispered.

The angel snapped his mouth shut, guilt washed over his handsome face. "Of course," he said, quickly. "I apologize."

They were silent for a bit, before she finally asked, "How will you protect me?"

Her question startled him. "Pardon me?"

"Seba-" She abruptly stopped, frowning. She sniffled again, then said, "I was informed that my soul leaves a distinct scent wherever I go. How are you going to keep the demons at away?"

Michael smiled. "I'm an angel," he answered, humbly. "One of my powers is the ability to mask your scent."

His answer was surprising. "Mask it?" she repeated.

"Well, erase it, actually," he clarified, nodding. "Think of me as...a sort of refresher for the air."

She laughed at the image his description conjured. "And, how long does your 'refreshing' last?" she questioned.

"As long as I am by your side, any scent you emit will disappear."

She thoughtfully hummed at the thought. "So, it isn't a long-term solution," she realized.

He shook his head, somewhat ruefully. "Unfortunately, no," he replied, honestly. "As special as you are, Vanessa, I am needed elsewhere."

Her thoughts overwhelmed her for a beat, then: "I'm going to die, aren't I?"

He felt troubled by her question. "Not if I can help it, Vanessa," he told her, lightly squeezing her hand. "Sebastian won't allow it either."

"What can either of you do?" she asked, doubtfully.

"Sebastian has been made aware of what needs to be done," Michael replied, solemnly. "I suggest you talk with him."

She turned away. "I-I can't," she whispered. Her eyes closed, and for a moment, her expression turned pained.

Michael moved to sit beside her, taking her hands in his. "I know you are afraid right now, Vanessa," he told her, soothingly, "but-"

She quickly shook her head. "It's more than that," she said.

He studied her for a moment. "You are angry," he realized.

"Yes!" she exclaimed, almost exasperated, as if bothered by the fact. "So much angrier than I've ever felt before, but I don't know if I'm angry at myself or Sebastian! It varies day by day!"

"It is to be expected, but I don't think I am the person you should be speaking to about this." His gaze became pointed, his meaning not lost on her.

She deeply sighed. "You're right, of course," she mumbled.

"Perhaps a change of topic is in order?" He smiled then, his kind eyes encouraging.

She immediately nodded. "Tell me more about yourself," she suggested. "It's not everyday a mere mortal is in the presence of a great angel of God." She smiled then, a bit shy but, teasing.

He chuckled. "You flatter me, Mrs. Michaelis," he said, then quickly cleared his throat when he saw her face droop at mention of her husband. "What would you like to know?" he added,

Vanessa blinked, thinking. "What do you do when you're not rescuing unwilling prey such as myself from the demons of the world?" she asked.

"I spend most of my time in Heaven." His answer was quick and confident. "There is much to be done concerning the souls that reside there."

"Really?" Her eyebrows were high upon her forehead. "No lounging about for those who have returned?" The teasing lilt in her voice had returned.

"No," he repled, smiling. "There is a system in place for everyone. Those who have already completed their sojourn here on earth are given tasks to help maintain the order and peace in Heaven."

She nodded, understanding. "Is it still as beautiful as as I remember?" she continued.

His smile brightened, almost blinding her. "Perhaps even more," he replied.

"Do I still have a place there?"

She'd once again managed to startle him. "Why would you not?" he demanded, baffled.

"Um, I would think being married to a demon might change that," she said, awkwardly.

The angel scoffed. "I can assure you, Vanessa," he said, confidence shining in his eyes, "that your marital status has not changed your celestial reward whatsoever."

"I wish I could believe that." She'd turn away again.

"It will all work out in the end, child." A sympathetic pat to her hand.

"Will it, Michael?" she murmured, slightly turning back to him. "Because at this point, all I'm sure of is alternating between missing my husband and wanting to throttle him."

He heartily laughed. "I am sure Sebastian would let you hit him as much as you wanted if it would get you to talk to him."

She scoffed. "Whose side are you on?" she demanded.

His eyes rounded in surprise. "Side?" he repeated.

"I would think that being an angel, God's Second no less, that you would be celebrating a possible separation from my demon of a husband."

Understanding dawned on his face. "The beauty of being God's Second is that I am able to see the bigger picture," he explained.

She remained skeptical. "Meaning?"

"Meaning not everything is as it seems," he told her. "The outcome of your situation could surprise you."

All she could do was stare at him. "What is it that you know?"

He merely grinned under her scrutiny. "Many things, I assure you," he replied. "It's one of the many perks of being God's Second, you see."

She shook her head, a small smile now on her lips. "I'll have to take your word for it," she murmured.

With her mood slightly lifted, they fell into a comfortable silence for the rest of the way into town. It was only when the carriage turned onto her parents street did they speak again.

"How will I explain your presence?" Vanessa suddenly asked. If anything, her family would expect her husband to be with her, not some stranger.

"You won't," Michael assured her. "You'll be the only one able to see and hear me."

"Another perk of being God's Second?"

"All angels have the ability to go unseen; we walk among you more often than you think."

Vanessa had nothing to say to that and so merely nodded. She turned back to look out the window, and saw that they were nearly arrived had her parents' home.

The carriage stopped just in front of the home and Vanessa stepped out. For a moment she looked a bit confused, not seeing her companion anywhere. She bid the carriage driver good-bye, only to squeal when Michael seemingly appeared at her side when she turned back. A few passers-by threw her strange looks, but ultimately did not stop.

"I apologize, Vanessa," the angel said, chuckling. "I removed myself from mortal sight as I followed you out of the carriage. It takes a second for your unveiled eyes to adjust."

Struggling to calm her heart, she took a few deep breaths, earning more looks from others also out and about. "I would slap you, but I'm sure I'd look like some crazed person swatting at the air," she murmured. She suddenly straightened up and flashed a quick smile to a young mother herding her children down the street.

The young woman looked horrified at catching her gaze and quickened her pace, dragging her children with her.

Michael laughed at the sight. "Yes, you would," he agreed.

Vanessa rolled her eyes as subtly as she could . "Come on," she said, stepping towards the front door.

"Just a moment," Michael said, and he paused at the bottom of the steps.

Vanessa pretended to be admiring the small flower boxes that lined the steps; there were several people still on the sidewalk and she didn't need any more strange looks. "What is it?" she whispered.

"Your scent surrounds this building," the angel murmured, thoughtfully.

This caused her to stiffen with panic. "But, the last time I was here was nearly a week ago!" she hissed. Her eyes darted around. "Are there any of them around?" she added, fear evident in her eyes.

To her relief, Michael shook his head. "No," he answered, "but your scent is strong. Excuse me while I take care of this."

She watched him float to the top step, stopping right in front of the door. Both his arms were raised, and without a sound, a burst of pure white light pulsed through the air. The light pushed forward and disappeared into her parents' home.

Michael glanced over his shoulder at her, his smile calming. "You may go in now," he announced.

She scrambled up the steps to join him, and quickly knocked on the door. She was greeted by her father the moment the door swung open.

"Sweetheart!" Thomas exclaimed, grinning at the sight of her. He gathered her into a strong hug before kissing her temple.

Vanessa giggled, suddenly relaxed in his embrace. "Hello, Papa!" she murmured against his chest. Her slender arms wrapped around his waist, squeezing.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes!" he continued, happily. "How was the ride over? Are you alright? You're not pushing yourself, are you? You shouldn't take illness lightly y-"

Vanessa giggled. "I'm fine, Papa!" she insisted. She pressed her face into his chest and instinctively inhaled. Her father's familiar scent- musky with a hint of tobacco- filled her nose, making her smile.

Thomas chuckled at her actions. "I've missed you, too, darlin'," he murmured, kissing the top of her head.

He shut the front door and led her back into the sitting room, where her grandparents were seated upon the long settee. They were surrounded by her mother and siblings who perked up at her arrival.

"Ah, petite-fille aînée!" the Viscount di Rossi exclaimed, grinning. Once a tall, proud man, age had caused Francois' posture to hunch and his gait to stumble. Nevertheless, he stood from his seat, walking cane forgotten, his arms opened wide.

"Grandpère!" Vanessa greeted him, eagerly accepting his hug. She kissed him soundly on the cheek before he let her go.

"I was just telling Grandmère that you are the spitting image of my beloved mère!" he told her, proudly. "Son jumeau!" His arms waved animatedly around.

The Viscountess giggled. "He exaggerates," Lisette di Rossi said, reaching out from her seat to swat Francois' hip. There was a teasing light in her hazel eyes that matched her husband's. "You are far more beautiful, ma chère!" she added with a wink.

Vanessa laughed at their banter before turning to properly greet her mother and siblings. As she did so, she saw Michael approaching her father and lay a hand on his shoulder. A small light flashed, and the angel then moved onto her mother. She could only guess that he was purging her demon-attracting scent from her loved ones.

Noticing her gaze, Michael grinned at her. "Pay attention, Vanessa," he teased her. "I'm supposed to be unseen, remember?"

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him, and instead, took the empty seat beside her grandfather.

"I'm sorry for not coming sooner," she apologized, as everyone settled back into their seats.

"We were disappointed when Sebastian told us you would not make it," the Viscount said, "but it is understandable when illness occurs after such tragedy, no?" His wrinkled hand reached up to gently pat her cheek, a gesture that gave her great comfort.

"Speaking of your mari beau," Marie cut in, "where is Sebastian?" The color had returned to her cheeks, although her eyes were still filled with an immeasurable sadness that Vanessa was sure her mother would never recover from.

Vanessa felt herself flinch at her husband's name, but quickly recovered. "Earl Phantomhive is quite busy at the moment," she answered. "Sebastian couldn't get away and sends his apologies."

"Ness' Sebastian is the butler of all butlers," Nick told their grandparents, smiling. "Quite the able man."

"What is it that he says?" Rebecca piped up. "He's 'one hell of a butler' or something?" She giggled, and Vanessa couldn't help but smile.

"Ah, that is too bad," her grandfather said, his grin widening. "Grandmère was looking forward to flirting with him!" He heartily laughed when his wife slapped his shoulder.

Vanessa smiled as she watched her grandmother scold her grandfather in rapid French, only to have him laugh even louder, their antics had the entire family laughing. Their smiles were mirror images, and she could see the same emotion in the grins on her parents' faces. Here were two examples of enduring love, of trust in spouses, and bonds that overcame difficulties and hardships.

She felt her chest constrict at the absence of such things in her own marriage to Sebastian.

"You are frowning." The whisper was quiet, almost non-existent, and appeared at her side. With a slight turn of her head, she could see Michael was beside her, his head leaned down near hers.

"Can't help it," she murmured through strained lips.

"Stop thinking about your husband, Vanessa, and focus on the now," the angel continued, gently. "You are with your family, people who love you and make you feel safe. Let go of your struggles for now, and just be."

Vanessa wanted to scoff and tell him it wasn't easy. Thoughts of Sebastian and his secret consumed her every thought, constantly. There never seemed to be relief from the torment she struggled with; it was never far from her mind.

A shout in French interrupted her thoughts, and she was brought back to her surroundings by the sight of her Grandmère protesting as her grandfather tried to steal a kiss. The Viscount's lips were pursed in an exaggerated pout as loud kissing noises echoed in the room.

The scene was so ridiculously funny that Vanessa couldn't help but join in and laugh.

Watching as her lips stretched into a smile and her face lit up with laughter, Michael could feel Vanessa's sorrow melt away. He took a step back and tucked himself into a corner of the room. The di Rossi's continued with their antics, leaving the Hammond's gasping from laughter, and it wasn't long before a smile spread across the angel's face as he stood watching.

"There you are, ma petite!"

Vanessa glanced over her shoulder and found her grandfather standing in the open back door. "Hello, pépère!" she called back, starting to rise.

He closed the door behind him, waving her back down upon the top step that led to the small backyard. "Sit, love," he urged her, joining her.

She obeyed and he joined her, hooking his arm through hers. They sat for a bit, silent and comfortable in one another's company as the sunlight faded away into evening.

"You were very quiet at dinner," Francois finally commented.

"Was I?" When he nodded, she added, "Just enjoying the company."

"Perhaps." His gaze was entirely unconvinced. "But, I think that your thoughts were elsewhere, hmm?"

She averted her eyes. "Perhaps," she murmured.

"Is it Sebastian?"

"Why would you think that?" He laughed when her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"I saw the way you flinched at his name, love," he explained. "Your grandmother thinks my eyesight is failing, but, I still see things she does not."

"Grandmère would never agree to that," she teased.

He dropped a cheeky wink. "Grandmère doesn't need to know," he countered.

She laughed for a moment, before falling silent again. Her face scrunched in concentration as she tried to find the words to explain her plight, and all the while, her grandfather just sat there, patiently waiting.

After a few false starts, Vanessa finally asked, "Has Grandmère ever kept something from you, pépère? Something important?"

His expression turned thoughtful, as he patted her forearm. "Well, importance is subjective, isn't it, ma chère?" he answered. "What is important to you might not be for me."

"True," she conceded, slightly nodding. "But, what if it was a secret of sorts about the person you loved? Something that makes them...them?"

"I would guess it depends on just what exactly it is that they are."

"Sebastian…" she trailed off, trying to choosing her words carefully. "He...kept something about himself from me, something that has affected not just me but a few others."

Her grandfather thought for a moment. "This secret, cher," he began, slowly, "does it affect the person he is?"

She looked confused. "What do you mean, pépère?"

"I mean, darling," he said, smiling softly, "that even after learning this secret, has Sebastian changed? Has his attitude or demeanor changed into someone that is no longer your husband?"

She paused before answering, then shook her head. "No," she replied, confidently. "He's still the same. In fact, this secret has helped me to better understand certain things about him." Like how he seemed so damn perfect all of the time! she thought.

"That is a good thing, no?"

"Oui, Grandpère."

He gently patted her knee, a smile crossing his face. "I am sure your mama told you about when she and your père met?" he asked.

"You didn't like Papa," she answered, giggling.

He nodded, amused by the memory. "When your maman came to me all those years ago," he said, almost wistfully, "announcing she was in love with your papa, I was furious. I knew nothing of your father, only that he was a lowly dockhand. I judged him for what he was, without knowing who he was. And, it cost me many years of lonely separation from my beloved daughter and the growing of my grandchildren."

Vanessa watched as he sighed, suddenly looking tired and worn. She took his old, weathered hand into hers and threaded their fingers together. "What are saying, Grandpère?"

"In my experience," he replied, softly, "most especially this experience with your parents, what ultimately matters is not what you are, but who you are. Everyone is labelled at birth, but what you do with your life, that is what defines you."

"Are you saying I should ignore what Sebastian has kept from me?"

He balked. "Heavens no, cher!" he exclaimed. "From your reaction, he should have told you whatever it was in the first place!"

"Then, what-?"

"What I am saying is that you yourself have admitted that this secret has not changed Sebastian, that it in fact brought an understanding of him. That tells me that whatever Sebastian has kept from you has changed nothing about who he is."

"And, who do you think he is, pépère?"

He smiled then, and she could clearly see the wisdom and love in his expression. "Who he has always been, ma chère," he answered, chuckling. "Your husband, the man who loves you more than life itself."

She blushed at his words. "How do you know that?"

"Because he looks at you the same way your papa looks at your maman."

They shared a smile, and with their arms wrapped around one another, looked up as they stars began to twinkle in the evening sky.