Jean lies with her head on his chest matching her breathing to his heartbeat that thumps in her ear. His hand is in continuous motion rubbing her back, running through her hair, as he peppers kisses to the top of her head. Slowly she lifts her head to gaze at him.

"You need a haircut." she says with a meek smile while running her fingers through the curls at his neck.

"Yes, I'm afraid I let myself go." He runs his own hand through hers mirroring her actions. "Yours is longer too. I like it."

"Lucien I'm sorry I only found the box in the garden a few weeks ago. I wasn't sure what to do at first."

"Ssshh, Jean. It doesn't matter. And to be honest if you found it sooner I don't know what I would have done. Though it would have been nice if you found it a bit sooner." He gives her one of his teasing grins.

"Lucien that doesn't help!"

"I'm sorry Dear. I knew that what was being asked of me probably wasn't as it seemed and I knew that they were going to tell you some story to hide the truth but I never imagined all that happened."

"What did happen?"

"I was told that I could help Christopher. They knew things, how to get to you. Then I was betrayed by someone. I don't know all of it but nothing was as it should have been."

"At the funeral," Lucien shifts uncomfortably at the thought of what Jean has gone through, "a General Graham said you agreed to help in Vietnam and Hannam was with him." Lucien nods confirming that he knows of Hannam's involvement. " And then there is George McLeod! He showed up at my doorstep after I had called him for information. He seems to know the grocer's son, who gave me a basket with a listening device in it by the way!" Jean's voice speeds up, volume rising as her frustration comes to a head. "I was told you fell off a bridge in Sydney, thinking you're dead but not giving up hope."

"That's what they told you?" he interrupts.

"Yes, that you were following the suspect and you fell. Lucien, what is going on? I don't know who to trust or what to believe anymore."

Lucien wears a look of confusion and frustration that matches his wife's. It occurs to him that once again Jean knows more about the situation than he does. That there are pieces of the puzzle that she may have solved in a few short weeks that he hasn't been able to put together in months or is it even years.

"Jeannie, you said George McLeod came to Ballarat?"

"Yes. He might even still be here but I don't know. He was staying at The Soldier Hill."

"What did you tell him? How much does he know?" Lucien has a wild look in his eyes that frightens her.

"Just that I found the metal box in the garden and what your letter said."

"Did you tell him you were going to Adelaide?" he holds her shoulders to keep his hands from trembling.

"No Lucien! The only people that know about Adelaide are Matthew and Alice. They are the only ones that know that you are not buried in the plot in the cemetery. I told him nothing else."

He nods as more pieces fall in place, "Good." Lucien is about to say something else when a high pitch voice calls out stopping him mid thought.

Jean jumps up. "Amelia! I have to go before she comes in here." she makes her way to the door leaving Lucien baffled at what is happening. "Stay put. I'll be back when I can slip away."


"Nana, there you are!" Amelia greets Jean in the dining room.

"Yes, I'm here Poppet." Jean lets out a heavy breath at how close Amelia was to walking in on her with Lucien.

"Look what I made in school today. It's a rainbow."

"It is beautiful. Where shall we hang it?"

"It's for you Nana. Let's hang it in your room." Amelia skips past Jean towards the studio.

"No!" Amelia stops abruptly at her grandmother's raised voice. "It is far too pretty for only me to enjoy it. Why don't we hang it on the refrigerator so all can see it?"

"Okay Nana. Can I help make dinner too?"

"I think that is a marvelous idea. Come on, best get started."

Matthew and Peter aren't able to make it home for dinner much to Jean's relief. Amelia easily distracts her mother from taking notice if Jean is not acting herself. Matthew wouldn't be so easily fooled and Jean is not ready to share the news that Lucien has returned, not yet anyway. She knows it is selfish but she wants him for herself for just a little bit longer. She needs to have him for herself.

"Ruby, I'll make the boys plates and do the washing up. You go on ahead upstairs with Amelia."

Once Ruby is out of sight Jean quickly fills a plate with food, making her way to the studio. "Lucien?" He is not in sight, panic grips her.

"I'm here." He steps out of the bathroom, beard trimmed neatly the way Jean likes it best.

"I brought you dinner. I can't stay here now but I'll be back in a tick." Before he can even get out a thank you she is gone.

The kitchen is clean, food for Matthew and Peter waiting for their arrival home by the time Amelia comes back down the stairs ready for her nightly story before bed.

"Nana, I'm ready for my story."

"Good. Me too." Jean lifts her granddaughter up with an oof and makes her way to the sofa. "You my dear are getting too big for me to lift up."

"Carry me just a little longer, Nana. Just till the new baby comes." Amelia's small arms circle around Jean's neck holding tight.

"I will carry you as long as I'm able. Now what are we reading tonight?"

"This one!"

"Blinky Bill again? Didn't we just read this the other night?"

With wide eyes Amelia comes in close to whisper in her grandmother's ear as if divulging a grand secret. "It's my favorite," to which she breaks into a fit of giggles. Jean begins laughing along with the child. The first honest laugh in weeks.

The worrying over Lucien's whereabouts no longer weighing on her. The relief that he is safely home in the next room fills her. The joy that her granddaughter gives her whenever she is present consumes her till tears are streaming from laughing.

"Why is that so funny?" the child, still giggling along.

"It is just that you are so very cute my dear and I love you." Jean brushes away the tears. "You know, this was your Uncle Jack's favorite too."

"Not Daddy's?"

"No, Daddy was a Magic Pudding child."

"Oh, I like that one too." She quickly adds.

"I know you do Poppet. Now let's get started or you won't hear much of it at all before you need to be in bed."


As Jean reads, Lucien sits on the floor leaning against the door and listens. His eyes shine with the unshed tears from listening to the exchange between Jean and their precious girl. He doesn't know how long he has been sitting on the floor lost in thought before he notices that he no longer hears Jean reading on the other side of the door. He gets up feeling his body ache and the exhaustion setting in.

He makes his way back to the bathroom peeling the worn clothes off, leaving them in a pile to be discarded in the trash. He pauses and bends picking up the white shirt that Jean had so tenderly left for him, this he thinks he will keep. The water runs hot before he steps in washing away weeks of grime, months of longing, a year's worth of agony. He wants to be clean for his Jean, body and soul.

Lucien climbs into the bed, his body feeling as if it is melting in the comfort of their bed, the bed he bought with and shares with his wife. Her scent is so strong amongst the sheets. He slides to the center so that he can reach one of her pillows, holding it close while he waits for her to return.

The room is dark except for the small lamp on the nightstand. He doesn't hear the door open and close or the click that the lock makes as Jean turns it, ensuring that no little one creeps in the room late in the night. He doesn't hear her gentle footsteps approach the bed, the sound of her clothes being hung over the chair or the clink of her locket being placed in the porcelain bowl.

She looks down at her sleeping husband. Her strong, handsome, brilliant man is snoring, in such a deep slumber. His arms holding tightly to her pillow like a small child holding a teddy bear. There is so much she needs to tell him, so much they need to talk about; to try and figure out and yet at this moment she just wants to be in the folds of his arms instead of that bloody pillow.

Her motion of climbing into bed wakes him. "Oh Jean. I am so sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"Sshh." she slides between the sheets scooting towards him. Lucien places her pillow back by the headboard in the same motion of pulling her close. "Sleep, my darling. You must be so tired."

"Sleep can wait. Right now I just need you, to feel you near me." His rough hands send shivers up her spine as they trace along her bare skin.

In a husky voice Jean whispers in his ear, "I need you too, Lucien, so very much." She means this more than anything. The months of missing him, the weeks of deception and searching has culminated to this moment, to have him again beside her. Her visceral need to be held, to be in the shelter of his embrace leaves her trembling for want.

This time their kiss is full of deep passion and desire, as husband and wife bound to one another. They kiss and make love as if they never thought they would have this chance again, slowly, gently savoring each touch; each breath of one anothers. No touch, no brush of lips, no word of endearment is taken for granted. Late in the night, as they lie holding each other, willing themselves not to drift to sleep, they give a silent thank you for the chance to love and be loved once more. A thank you to have this feeling of home that only comes when they are together.