Of all the people to come to my rescue, Francois was the last one I would've expected. Then again, he may have also been the best. Right now, I don't think anyone else could get through to Oliver and how batshit crazy this whole thing is. But Francois could. Oliver may have always been under the impression he was the one to have set Francois on the straight and narrow. What if, by some odd twist of fate, Francois was the one keeping Oliver on kilter? What if it was never Francois in need of fixing, but Oliver instead?

"Why are you here?" Oliver gasped, still just as shocked as I was Francois was in the doorway.

"To ask you the same question," Francois told him, his voice just as disinterested as ever. Maybe he wasn't here to save me. Maybe he was here to reconnect with Oliver. And maybe monkeys will fly out of my ass.

"What?" Oliver brushed him off, "I'm not allowed to take a holiday? Sometimes, a little time away can do wonders."

"Where is she, Oliver?" Nope. Francois was here for me! Yay! As much as I wanted to yell for him, I knew I couldn't. God only knows how quickly Oliver could work. I don't want anyone else getting hurt for the sake of him keeping me quiet.

"Where's who?" Oh, what the hell, Oliver? I think he's talking about the girl you got zip tied in your kitchen right now.

"You know damn well who," Francois didn't come to play games. Good. Right now, I'm done with the games, too, "Amy? Give me a little yell, cheri. Let me know you're alright."

"She's fine," Oliver answered for me, only getting angrier with every passing second, "You shouldn't be here."

"Give me the girl, Oliver."

"Or what?" Oliver scoffed, "What are you going to do?"

"I've been sober for the last week and a half," Francois confessed, the bitterness in his voice softening a bit, "As far as my drinking is concerned. The drugs…I've been off those even longer."

"Really?" Oliver awed, "Good for you, darling. I'm so proud of you. But what does this have to do with anything?"

"Do you see this ring?" Francois asked.

"It's a beautiful ring," Oliver complimented, "What of it?"

"Do you remember what I was like when I'd be on cocaine?"

"Of course I do," Oliver started to get nervous, "You were an absolute nightmare. You bounced off the walls, threw a punch at one once. Plastering after your fights with the drywall were never pleasant."

"I haven't had any since our divorce," Francois admitted, "I had a little after to take the edge off the divorce in the first place, but I haven't had any since."

"And where were Mattheiu and Allen when you were doing this?" Oliver jumped on the defensive, "You weren't high around them, were you, Francois?"

"Of course not," Francois assured him, "They were staying with Flavio and Andres that night. I might have a problem, Oliver, but I'm at least responsible when I do it."

"Good…" Oliver let out a heavy sigh of relief, "What does that have to do with anything?"

"You're not the only one who can get a hold of Xiao on short notice," Francois pointed out, "In my ring is just enough for me to fall off the wagon again. And I'm almost one hundred percent sure you don't want me to do that. You wouldn't want me coked out here, would you, Oliver? Not around so many breakable things. Most of them being antiques. Or worse, you wouldn't want me hurting her, would you?"

"What do you want from me, Francois?" Oliver growled.

"You know what I want," Francois stood his ground, "Let me see her. Now."

"Well…" Oliver thought it over for a moment or two. Is this it? Is this when I get to get the fuck out of here and go home? Wherever that might be these days? Because I wouldn't exactly oppose to being cut out of the zip ties. Or out of the fucking diapers, "Only and ONLY if you're supervised."

"That's fine with me."

"She's scheduled for a nap soon." Yeah. Nap. Courtesy of the Midozolam you planned on shooting me up with, "So, make it quick."

"Fine."

"Wait there," Oliver started walking back toward the kitchen. He got a pair of scissors out of the drawer and cut me loose from the zip ties, "Mention none of this to Francois, Amelia. You're going to be the good girl I know you are for me and anything he asks, you'll barely answer. Just enough to remain polite. Do you understand? We don't need Francois having a relapse."

"Yes," I was just happy to see Francois again. Someone I know is on my side.

"Good girl," Oliver cradled my cheek in the palm of his hand, a little smile on his face, "You're my little girl. Whether he wants to admit it or not. You were the family I found on my own when my other family abandoned me. You're. Mine."

"Oliver," Francois called from the entrance, "Can I come in yet?"

"Yes," Oliver allowed, going back to the kitchen sink. He scoured the cabinets for a brief moment while Francois took the seat across from me. If I didn't know any better, I'd think he just smiled at me, "I wish you would've called first, darling. I would've made tea."

"Never really cared for tea," Francois wrote him off, studying me closely. No doubt, he's making sure I'm in one piece. Francois looked closely into my eyes, then down at my arms. He kept his hands to himself, though. In all seriousness, I'm a bit surprised.

"You know…" Oliver kept his voice down, "I think I still have a bag of French roast coffee in the cupboard."

"Really?" Francois let out a little gasp. No. Francois, do not let him suck you back in. We've been over this. You know what he's capable of.

"Of course," Oliver swore, "I'm not going to just get rid of it. That'd be wasteful…You wouldn't want any, would you?"

"Don't trouble yourself," Francois brushed him off, "I don't need it."

"It's no trouble at all," Oliver plugged in the coffee pot and grabbed the beans and the coffee grinder from the upper cabinets, "You really should know better than that."

"Really, Oliver," Francois stopped him, "I don't want any."

Oliver ignored his rejection and continued on, "Two sugars, splash of cream, right, Francois?"

"Mostly black these days," Francois knew there would be no fighting him. Oliver was going to do it whether he said yes or no. It was the formality. Instead of arguing over his coffee, Francois turned his attention to me, "Are you alright, Amy?"

I had to be careful. I knew Oliver was listening and hanging onto every word that came out of our mouths, despite having his back toward us. I couldn't let him know I was begging for help. Instead, I broke into erratic blinking patterns, hoping it'd get through to Francois, "Yeah. I'm fine."

"How'd you even know we'd be here, Francois?" Oliver wondered, pouring the water into the coffee pot. The smell of freshly ground coffee filled the air. I missed that smell.

"Francis called," Francois explained, "He said something about you having someone hostage in here and I thought I'd see what the fuss was about. You know, Amy, your mother worries about you."

"My mother?" I gave him a strange look. I doubt my mom even knows I'm gone. But I don't think Francois was talking about her.

"Your birth mother," Francois clarified, "I'm sure you'll meet soon."

"And what makes you say that, Francois?" Oliver's grip on the cup tightened.

"Oliver," Francois held his face in his hands, "You know you can't keep her."

"Why?" Oliver snapped. I never saw him pissed off much, but when I did, it scared the shit out of me. That's when bad things happen, "Are you going to take her away from me like you did Matthieu and Allen?"

"I never took them away from you, Oliver," Francois defended himself, "They chose to leave. They couldn't stand you smothering them either. And they went with me. Don't be pissed at me for their decision. I didn't make it for them. Now, am I going to have to tell her or have you already told her that?"

"Told her what?" Oliver was ready to go for the throat here.

"You know what," Francois had a dirty smirk on his face, "Should I tell her?"

"There's nothing to tell her," Oliver was hiding something. I could see it all over his face. Francois mentioned some dirt and his cheeks lost their usual rosy tone.

"This is really how we're doing it," Francois took my hand and helped me onto my feet, "Say goodbye to Uncle Oliver, Amy. We'll be leaving now."

"Uncle?" I perked up.

"That's right, cheri," Francois nodded, "Uncle. Allons."

"No," Oliver grabbed me by the wrist, his kung-fu grip leaving red marks around his fingers…and a sharp pain through my wrist, "You're not taking her from me, Francois. You know what I'll do."

"You know how protected this girl is," Francois popped open his ring, revealing the white powder underneath it, "Especially after a hit of this."

"You're not taking my little girl from me!" Oliver screeched, trying to pull me away from him.

But then, Francois took a big snort from that ring and grabbed me, holding me tight to his chest, "Yes. I am. You're going to stay right here. You're not going to follow us. You're not going to track her. You're not going to try and contact her. You go near her and you will answer for it. I promise you, Oliver Kirkland, it will not end pretty for you. If you want to keep that impish little face of yours in one piece, I suggest never coming back."

While Oliver was in his frozen and stunned state, Francois took me outside and threw me in the passenger seat of Alfred's car. That's a good sign. The familiarity put me at ease, but the fact that Francois was high on cocaine didn't, "Francois…"

"What is it, cheri?" Francois started driving away. For someone who just did cocaine, he was strangely level headed.

"Was…" I wondered, "Did you really just snort cocaine?"

"Relax, Amy," he settled me, "It's not cocaine. It's powdered sugar. It's not like Oliver would know the difference. Besides, if I brought you back to your family while I was high, I'd never hear the end of it. And quite frankly, I don't want to deal with a Francis Bonnefoy patented lecture. I'd rather be getting a high colonic than that. Are you alright?"

"You came for me," I smiled.

"No," Francois hushed me, "We're not doing the sentimental bullshit right now. I didn't come here out of the goodness of my own heart, Amy. I was asked to come here. No one else knew where Oliver's cottage was and I wasn't putting Allen and Matt through that. They didn't deserve it. So, my brother called me and asked nicely for me to go get you."

"Thank you," I curled up in my seat, "So, if you're not taking me back to Oliver's house…"

"Fuck no."

"Where are you taking me?" I asked. Was I trading one kidnapper for another? I mean, at this point, I'm pretty sure Francois is the lesser of two evils. I sure as hell don't want to go back to Oliver. But I couldn't help but be curious.

"I'm taking you home, Amy," Francois promised, "Your real home. I know this must be a lot to take in, but I'll explain everything then. It's not exactly something that can be sorted out here."

"Ok," I let it go. Right now, anywhere could be home for me. I just wanted to get my eyes on everyone else and make sure they were ok. Francois seemed to have had Oliver frozen in terror in his cottage. Hopefully, he'll be dealt with. Swiftly. But one thing needed to be taken care of before we went any further, "Hey, Francois?"

"What?"

"You wouldn't have happened to bring a change of clothes with you," I crossed my fingers, "Did you?"

"No," Francois turned off the dirt road, inching closer to civilization, "Why?"

"Do you think we could stop at Flavio's then?" I requested, "Because this dress is hot and itchy and I either need to make some modifications or get it off."

"Do we have to?" he grumbled, "Don't get me wrong. I don't have a problem with Flavio, but he tries to make me a project every time we see each other. I'd rather not."

"He doesn't need to know you're here," I bargained, "You could stay downstairs while I go in."

"And leave you with Flavio unattended?" Francois scoffed, "Mon dieu. I don't think so."

"Fine," I did have another idea, but I think Francois would be cooler with me seeing Flavio unattended. It's worth a shot, "Do you think we could stop at Oliver's then?"

Francois slammed on the breaks. It's a good thing this was a back road, "Why the fuck would you want to go back there?"

"Because," I told him, "I have shit there I can change into. This is miserable and I need it off pronto. I promise I'll be in and out."

He thought it over, easing down on the gas pedal, "Fine. In and out, Amy. I don't need to be going into flashbacks."

"Alright."

I really was proud of how far Francois had come. And for little old me. When we pulled up to Oliver's house, I bolted inside and up the stairs, grabbing everything that had my name on it. I left the dress on the stairs and ran practically naked to the guest room. Where was it? Where was it? I know he wouldn't have let me take that with me. And then, there it was. Ask and ye shall receive, Amy. I found a short, black skirt and Allen's Rage t-shirt he gave me. Damn, I looked good. Never in my life did I think I'd ever be so grateful for the feeling of underpants.

Even more important, I found a black jacket with a little popsicle pinned to it. There's what I was looking for. I threw Allen's jacket back on and ran back outside. Francois didn't look too worse for wear. And I may have been in there for about ten minutes. Well…Time to go meet the family. The real family.