Nineteen Years Ago

"The new baby is almost here," Catherine tells her children, rubbing her bump lovingly. "You're going to have to be really careful with the baby when they come."

Francis nods. "It's going to be a boy."

"Yeah," Bash says.

"We have too many boys already!" Leeza whines, pressing her mouth against Catherine's bump. "If you come out a girl, I will give you ten euros."

Catherine chuckles, her fingers running through her daughter's curly blonde locks. "My lovely, you can't bribe a baby."

"Maman, where are all the cardboard Papa got from the crib and dresser?" Francis asks.

"They should be in the garage, why?" She replies curiously.

Francis grins. "No reason!" He pulls Bash downstairs and into the kitchen. Opening the garage door, he lugs the cardboard boxes into the kitchen and gestures for Bash to get the rest.

"What's going on here?" Henry asks, entering the kitchen. "I've just organised-"

"We're making gifts for the baby," Francis informs him. "It's a surprise."

Henry sighs but smiles. "Okay, let's get these into the dining room and see what we can do with them."

They have markers, pairs of scissors and pencils to draw out templates and Henry teaches them how to make 2D shapes into 3D ones. It takes hours but they work tirelessly on their present to the new baby, the boys insisting their sisters when they come inside and ask them what they're doing that the new baby will be a boy.

"God won't punish us with another annoying sister," Bash mutters.

Leeza scoffs, glaring at him. "Well, He won't punish us with another annoying brother!"

"Children," Henry warns them, placing the finished pieces into a shoebox and writing a neat message to the baby. "Whatever the baby is, you will both love them and care for them as you would any of your other siblings. Does it even matter at the end of the day? You all have your mother and me and we always have fun with each other. Okay?"

"Okay," the children say before Leeza takes Claude to go and play with their dolls.

Henry looks down at the items in the box. "You've done a great job, boys."

There are horses, trees, fences and different coloured jockeys for the horses in the box. He chuckles to himself, even if the baby is a girl, she will still love these gifts because they're made with love by her older brothers.

"Right-"

"Henryyyyy!"

Henry shares a worried glance with his sons before hurrying upstairs, the boys following his steps. "Cat?"

"The baby's coming-"

"Sebastian, look for her hospital bag. Francis, call your grandparents to get here," Henry tells them. "Look after your younger siblings and wait for them to arrive. The flight shouldn't take long but dinner is in the fridge, just heat it up."

He helps his wife up as the boys scatter to carry out their orders. He trusts them enough for two to three hours until their grandparents arrive from Italy. He just hopes the younger kids will listen.

He has no time to think about that when his wife's hand squeezing tightly around his brings him back into the room.

Many, many hours later, the children are invited to meet their new sibling the next day after school. The baby is pink, shut-eyed and small with fluffs of blonde hair.

"He's so small!" Claude cries out. "I want to touch him!"

"Not yet, Claudie," Catherine says softly, rocking the baby in her arms. "Let your older brothers and sister hold him first. It's fair, okay?"

"Urgh, okay."

When it's Francis's turn, he makes sure to cradle the baby carefully and he gasps when his eyes open and they land on him. "I knew you'll be a boy. We've made presents for you," he whispers, bowing his head to peck the baby's head.

"What's his name?" Leeza asks as Charles attempts to get a good look at the baby by trying to leap from Henry's arms.

"Hercule," Catherine replies.

Francis smiles and strokes Hercule's cheek with his thumb. "I promise to love and protect you, Hercule," he whispers.

Always.

...

Present Day

When Francis still hasn't said anything yet, Mary takes a seat and runs her hands down her face. The appointment for the unspeakable in her mind is in a couple of days but she's been unsure of whether she wants to go through with it or not. It's why she asked for a whole month to get used to the idea, in case she didn't want to go through with it.

"Francis, since you're not going to say anything, just hear me out, okay?" She starts nervously, glancing downwards. "I-I've known for a month."

He sighs and crosses his arms, gesturing for her to continue as he stands before her. He doesn't know what to think. The one thing they've waited for is finally happening but she doesn't look all too happy about it and it reminds him of when they found out about Anne. This time, it looks like he already knows what she's going to suggest and he knows he won't like it and her mind's probably made up about it.

"We're not ready for another baby yet," she says quietly, her eyes meeting his. "I thought we were, that's why I sat on it but thinking real hard about it... We're not in the position we were when we first thought about trying properly. A-And you're seeking therapy and stopping drinking so it's going to set you back if you think about it." She sighs. "We're not ready. We were but now, we're not... Circumstances change."

"Are you kidding me?" He asks her in disbelief. "We've been trying, Mary. And it's not like whenever we were off, you were taking the pill! We are ready for this baby, Mary. Otherwise, you'd not have sat on what I hope you didn't consider."

"Yes, Francis, I considered an abortion," Mary tells him truthfully. "It's booked for a couple of days time."

He closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And you've kept this from me for weeks? A whole, damn month, there has been a baby inside you and you didn't think to let me know? So we could have had this conversation then?"

"I wasn't ready for this conversation then!" Mary cries out, standing up. "Have you not noticed what's been going on, Francis? Between us, with you? You're all about you, right now. You have to be about yourself right now, to get better. To get over whatever is going on that you don't tell me about."

Francis raises a brow. "I've been all about myself?" He sighs heavily and starts to pace. "It's like I learn something new about you that I don't like."

"What do you mean?" She asks, her anxiety creeping up as her voice increases in pitch.

"That you keep things from me when we promised each other to be honest... Jesus, Mary... Maybe we started a life together too soon-"

"Maybe, you're drunk again and don't know what you're talking about," she snaps, turning the TV off and grabbing her phone and finishing her hot chocolate. "I'm going to bed, you can stay down here because I don't want to look at you right now."

"I'm not drunk, Mary Josephine and let's have this conversation about why you thought you could make a decision about a child we made and even consider-"

Mary turns to him, slightly in shock at him using her middle name. He didn't. "My body, Francis," she tells him before heading upstairs and landing on their bed in sobs.

Of course, she'd never want to do this but if they're in such a state, a baby will never solve their problems. They were happy, now they're just going through it day by day.

What does he mean by we got together too soon? That he hates the new things he finds out about me? Has some spell broken or something over him? Have his problems crept into our marriage?

That night, she ends up sleeping alone and in tears.

...

Not feeling going to work, Francis goes back home after dropping the kids off at school and nursery. He takes note that Mary's car is still parked and she didn't awake to sort out the kids that the kids even woke up themselves with their ever practised body clock and woke him up on the sofa. His excuse satisfied them - he fell asleep watching TV which they berated him for since he and Mary don't allow their kids to stay up ever for TV.

He sighs, entering the kitchen to see Mary standing beside a small suitcase as she leans against the counter. "What the...? Where are you going?"

"I just need a break," she tells him. "We've been in each other's lives for over ten years and... I need a breather, to think about..." She glances at her small bump. "I'm staying with Jim and his wife. They just had the baby but they're fine with me being there... Th-The kids... I spoke to them this morning-" So she did wake them up. "-and told them that I'll be helping out with their new cousin so they know. Use these few days to spend time with the kids, make it up to them. It's at the point that I'm tired of explaining to them why their daddy is too angry and sad and quiet all the time. And why he sometimes smells like 'No-No-Juice'."

"You know I've stopped-"

"I know and I am proud of you for that," Mary tells him, rubbing the side of her temple. "Just assure them, okay? You're a great dad but you're fucking up right now on all fronts."

Francis bites his bottom lip before taking his coat off. "Are we... really bad right now?"

Mary shakes her head. "No, Francis," she says softly, coming over to cup his cheeks. "Sometimes marriages can go through blips. Especially if one half is not communicating as normal and... is going through a whole lot."

"Don't shrink me-"

"I'm not. I'm shrinking us," she whispers. "I love you-"

"I love you too..."

She sighs. "Jim does really need help with the baby. His wife's got a few issues with postpartum so I'll see how I can help her and I'll get back to you."

Francis kisses her forehead and squeezes one of the hands that cup his cheeks. "Text me when you can. To tell me how you're doing."

"I will," she tells him with a wry smile. "I'm sorry about last night-"

"It's my fault. Everything is."

"Francis, not everything... If I'd just been more helpful-"

"How could you if I was pushing you away?" He asks softly.

She closes her eyes, biting her bottom lip. "How about we see Dr Renier together? Or we could see a totally unlinked therapist."

"Dr Renier's fine."

Mary smiles wryly and hugs him tightly before grabbing her suitcase and heading to the garage door. "See you in a few days?"

"Yeah."

...

Before heading to Jim's, Mary goes to the bakery. She feels productive and even though she's starting work at two in the afternoon after citing some family troubles in the morning, she still feels antsy and needs to get something done. Why not bake some sweet treats?

"Morning," she tells her uncle, giving him a quick kiss on his cheek. "Where do you want me?"

"We've got an office celebration order for fifty cupcakes and one simple chocolate cake," he informs her, handing her the note as she heads to the back in the kitchen and removes her jean jacket. She puts her apron on and he says, "Why are you here? Not that I'm not grateful."

She gives him an amused smile, going to wash her hands first. "I start this afternoon and well, I was in the mood for some free cupcakes. Might as well work for them."

Christian chuckles and checks on his wife before joining Mary and making the birthday cake order. "Everything good at home?"

"Yeah," Mary says, keeping her eyes down on the flour and sugar she's measuring out. "Why?"

"You look tense. So, is it work?"

Mary sighs. "I can't talk about my patients, Uncle."

"What? Many kids crying 'monsters under the bed'?"

"Amongst others," Mary mutters untruthfully. She loves her job, she loves helping people and being there for them instead of the one needing help. And offloading to her colleagues at the end of the day... "I'm planning on adding an extension so we could take on another psychologist. It's only an idea, even though we can afford it."

Christian nods. "I see. So, many people are in need of therapy?"

"Yeah and we're doing free sessions for rape survivors and sexually assaulted people. We're also planning on doing free sessions for the elderly in care homes. Francis suggested it after his great-grandfather died four years ago so we'll need more people to take on the work," Mary explains. It's nice to think about work and not her home issues but they still plague her mind and she won't let her uncle privy to her private life. She's sure Francis won't appreciate it either.

"How is Francis doing?" Christian drawls out slightly.

"He's good," Mary says, turning to him briefly. "Why did you ask like that?"

Christian sighs, shaking his head. "Nothing. He's just seemed a bit unfocused. The other week, I came over with a bunch of loaves and he was yelling down at a poor waitress. She looked like she was new at university or something and she was about to burst into tears."

"What?" Mary asks, surprised. She even stops mixing the batter. "Wait, Francis? Mild-tempered, friendly Francis? My husband, Francis? Yelling at a girl?"

"He was lucky the restaurant was closed that hour otherwise it would have been embarrassing for diners to catch an ear with," Christian tells her. "Why's he been so tense?"

Mary sighs, shaking her head. "He's been seeing a therapist. Henry's birthday, well what would have been, took a bit out of him. And then there's his mother's diagnosis."

"Well, you assure him that he's okay because he's got you, okay?" Christian tells her.

"I will," Mary says quietly.

Before she knows it, she's heading to the serving part of the bakery, coated and bagged up. Just as she steps to the door, a man enters with a ginger woman and they chuckle as they shuffle inside to get a look at the menu on the wall.

At first, Mary's disinterested about the couple but when she gets a second look at them, she quite can't believe it.

"God, Beth?"

The redhead turns to her, her eyes widening before she's pulling Mary into a tight hug. "Mary! God, Mary! Mary Stuart, Mary-"

"Yes, cousin dearest, it's me," Mary says, laughing slightly when Beth rocks her side to side before pulling away, their hands gripped in the other's hands. "Elizabeth, you look amazing."

Elizabeth grins. "You look spectacular, Mary!" She gives her the once over. "Are those child-bearing hips. Do you have babies?!"

Blushing, the smile unable to be contained on Mary's face, she nods. "Three. James, Anne and Rose." Then her smile wavers a little. "Did you consider adopting?"

It's been so long since she saw her paternal cousins. Older Mary was about a decade older so they never really found anything in common which older Mary had not already been interested in already and then grew up about it. Elizabeth was three years her senior so they were close and then there was Edward... Little two-year-old Eddie who drowned when Mary was nine and Beth was twelve in the Tudors' lake when Mary had visited them for an Easter with Jim.

Beth nods. "I have a four-year-old," she informs Mary, showing the woman a picture on her phone. "We adopted him from Korea. His parents were killed in a car accident and they had no other family... He would have been passed from care home to care home and when I went there on my Church's outreach program, I fell in love with Jae-jin. We even kept his real name and we'll tell him all about his birth parents when he's older." She then gestures to the man beside her. "Forgive me, I've not even introduced you to my husband. Mary, this is-"

"Robert," Mary says softly.

Beth's brows raise. "You know each other?"

Robert nods shakily. "It's nice to see you, Mary."

"Uh, the Dudleys came to my mother's funeral when she died," Mary tells Beth. "Don't you remember?"

Beth shakes her head. "To be honest, I blocked that day out. Losing your mother... That was hard. Considering my mother died when I was four and I couldn't... I couldn't believe you were losing yours so soon too. Dad became a drunk if you remember. Got married and divorced many times. The last wife outlived him and took all his money so Mary and I were left with nothing."

"Yeah," Mary says quietly.

Then Beth smiles warmly. "Are you living here now? Last I heard, you were going to study in France."

Mary laughs a little. "Study, marry and work in France," she tells Beth, showing her some pictures of her own family. "In fact, next door's my husband's family's restaurant. Well one of them. They have about seven or eight now. All Michelin starred of three and above."

"Oh, my God!" Beth cries out. "We're talking to a celebrity, Robbie! I'm so proud of you, Mary. What are you doing? Helping hubby out?"

"No, I studied Psychology in university and now, I'm a psychologist with my own successful clinic," Mary tells her happily. "I have to go to work now but let me take care of your order here."

"You don't have-"

"It's free for me anyway. Look at the name on the walls and windows."

Beth laughs. "God, no wonder it looked so familiar! Where's Uncle Christian at?"

"I'll get him for you," Mary says before calling for him. "It was good to see you, Beth."

"Likewise, Mary. We should catch up. I changed my number, I'll give you my new one," Beth says, digging into her bag and retrieving a pen and contact card. She scribbles her number onto the back of the card and hands it to Mary who reads the profession in silver lettering.

Mary smiles a little. "Swimming tutor?"

Beth nods sadly but smiles. "To honour Eddie."

"Great. I'll be seeing you," she tells her cousin before turning to her uncle. "Look who it is! It's Beth!"

...

Twelve Years Ago

"Mary, I'm so sorry about your-"

"Don't, Robert," Mary cuts him off, staring at the people giving her brother condolences as he searches for her.

But she's standing out of view, between the trees. She needs space and privacy to cry but now Dudley is here and she really doesn't want to talk to anyone or cry in front of anyone. Dudley's her brother's cousin from his mother's side. They're not related but he's flirted with her a few times despite the five-year age-gap. She just grew up to look 'pretty' last year. She feels it's wrong, he's her brother's cousin.

"When I lost my dad-"

"Don't care," Mary snaps before feeling guilty. No, she shouldn't have said that. His father died two years back after being run over. It was quite heartbreaking, Mary remembers her mother being in such shock before telling her stepson that his favourite uncle from his mother's side had died. "Sorry."

"Understandable," Robert says with a slight chuckle. "I don't hold it against you."

Mary's eyes sting with tears and she continues heading into the woods. They're having the ceremony at some high-end cemetery for some reason. They had a secret benefactor for the funeral, they doubt they'll ever find out who helped fund the damned thing.

Robert follows her and they come to a stop at a lake, taking a seat on the wooden bench there. It has a memorial sign screwed onto the top, dedicated to some guy called William McAvoy and she sighs heavily.

"I don't know what to do now," she whispers, more to herself.

Robert licks his bottom lip and looks out to the lake. "When Dad died, I was a mess. Don't know if you remember but Beth had to pull me out of bars quite a few times."

"Do you think you'll get together?" Mary asks. "She's been pulling you out of bars for a long time now."

Robert laughs and shakes his head. "She's not my type, Mary. But my mother's pushing me to get with her because of Church links and all of that."

"Have you been to Church, lately?" Mary asks him in doubt.

"No, but I pray," Robert says. "Mainly for the next hookup not to be riddled with an STI-"

"Too much information, Dud," Mary cuts him off with a roll of her eyes.

He chuckles. "I'm joking. I pray that I make things easy for my mother. Look at me, I'm a university drop-out, I've got no future going for me other than helping the vicar with his technical stuff at Church."

"You'll find something..."

"Just as you will when you go to uni, Mary. I know you'll do great things. Just leave your mother's ghost behind otherwise she'll bite you in the arse and you'll drop-out before you can get your fancy diploma and make my mother whinge all day about how great you and Jimmy are," Robert tells her with a heavy sigh.

Mary bursts into sobs, surprising him and he brings her into his side, rubbing her arm up and down comfortingly. "I don't know how to say 'goodbye'."

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Robert tells her softly. "I couldn't. Took me at least five more months before I could even look at the gravestone."

Mary pulls away from him, turning to face him with slight curiosity. "You're not being a jerk."

"Mary, you're going to bury your mother. Today's the last day to be teasing you," Robert replies. "I could give you some Dutch courage." He slips out a flask from his inner pocket and shakes it.

"No."

He returns it. "Okay."

He stares at her intently, brushing her hair from her face and slipping it behind her ears. Then he leans in and Mary surprisingly doesn't lean back as their lips almost touch. But then she remembers where they are and what today is and she pushes him away before standing and pacing the space in front of the bench.

"I'm sorry, Mary-"

"Robert, I don't like you and I never will. You're even my brother's cousin. There will never be anything between us, so stay away from me," Mary tells him firmly before leaving and heading back to the hall where the ceremony will take place in.

She finds Jim and he wraps his arms around her, a kiss pressing on the top of her head and she sighs in relief, closing her eyes when she realises that the old biddies who were talking to him have gone, leaving them in peace. She squeezes him hard, a sob choking her but he whispers sweet nothings and she has the strength to continue.

"I don't want to say 'goodbye' either, Mare," he says brokenly. "But we have to."

"It's unfair! Dad, now Mum?"

"I know, sis," he says tenderly, stroking her hair. "I know. It's okay..."

...

Present Day

"Papa, Rose won't sleep until Mama kisses her," James whines when he stomps down the stairs.

Francis turns the TV off before getting up and lifting James into his arms before heading upstairs. "Is she whining like a puppy again?"

"Yeah," Jamie says, resting his head on Francis's shoulder.

"Okay, let's read her to bed then. Together," he replies, entering Rose's nursery and seeing the girl on the floor with her toys out. "Rosie, bedtime."

"No!"

Francis shares a look with Jamie before putting his son down and patting Rose's 'big girl bed'. It was a surprise to see that their daughter had begun escaping from her crib two months ago so decided to get her a small bed so she could be like her older siblings. She was almost twenty-four months and they'd worried over if it was normal to make the switch but their daughter was advanced for her age from walking early to knowing her ABCs and 123s.

"Come on, chubster," Francis teases her, seeing her brown eyes flash dark when he calls her the nickname she hates. Her legs are chubby, her father preys on that fact, seldom tickling her there and blowing raspberries.

"No!"

"Do you want me to call Meme?" Francis asks, crossing his arms before taking a seat beside her bed. "She'll send you to bed with no story. And I really want to read you a story with Jamie here. Right, Jaybird?"

Jamie nods. "Yeah!"

Rose considers it before toddling over to her bed and climbing up it, one chubby leg up first. She hooks herself over and snuggles up onto a ball on her tummy, pulling her teddy and cover over her frame. Francis almost 'awes' but remembers how devious she could be. She could feign defeat before giving him grief for subduing her.

He waits five minutes but she's getting sleepy and he sighs in relief, taking the chosen storybook from Jamie's hands and pulling his son to sit in between his legs. "Right. Jack and the Beanstalk. Of course," he says, kissing James's head. "Your favourite. Right. Now, let's see what we're starting this book with..."

Once Rose is asleep, Francis carries James into his bed next door and presses a kiss on the boy's forehead before turning to leave. But when he feels a hand grip his own, he stops and turns to see his son pouting.

"What's up, baby boy?"

"I miss Mama," Jamie whispers.

Francis sighs and gets into the bed beside his son. "I miss her too." He looks around the room, at the fireman themed bedroom and smiles. "This used to be my bedroom. I don't think I've ever told you that, not that it needed to be said... When your mother and I worked on it for you, I could imagine you playing around the same room I did as a boy. I could see my child self watching up with joy and intrigue... Not fully knowing what the future held."

"It's a cool room."

Francis laughs. "It really is! Got a lot of secret nooks and crannies, I might tell you about one day." He kisses his son's head again. "Night, Jamie."

"I love you, Daddy," Jamie whispers.

"Oh, I love you too, Jaybird," Francis replies softly.

James then lowers his gaze. "And Pepe loves you too."

Tears spring to Francis's eyes and he laughs softly, squeezing James against him as he peppers on kisses all over the boy's hair. "My sweet, little prince."

...

"You ring the doorbell," Bash tells Francis.

Rolling his eyes, Francis rings the doorbell and they wait until someone answers it. It's a modest house, lovely lawn and sociable neighbours about. The porch seems to be aged but with a little lick of paint, seems newer than its previous state.

A short while passes and Francis slides his sunglasses to rest on top of his head before ringing the doorbell again. Eventually, a man with greying brown hair, thick black-rimmed glasses and a bushy but well-kept beard answers the door breathlessly.

"Oui?"

"Are you Samuel Nostradamus?" Bash asks him.

The man furrows his brows inquisivitely but nods. "Yes, I am."

Francis sighs in relief. It's the man but it could be a different man entirely, with the same name. But there aren't many Nostradamuses going around the country so Francis is hopeful.

"Did you used to know a Catherine de Medici?" Francis asks.

Nostradamus's brows raise and he lets out a slight chuckle. "Y-Yes, I did. Why?"

"We're her sons," Francis informs him. "May we come inside? This conversation would be better off the front porch."

The man lets them inside and they step back when an old terrier runs past, much to the man's amusement. He goes to pull the back door open a little more and the dog darts outside.

"I was working in my shed," Nostradamus explains. "And Hunch likes to get his daily laps in." He leads them into the garden and tells them to take a seat at the table. "Lemonade?"

"No, thank you," Bash says as Francis nods and the man pours him a glass before sitting down himself.

Nostradamus clears his throat. "So, you're both her sons?"

"Yeah," Francis says, taking a sip of his drink. "She's been... not so well lately. Dementia."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Nostradamus says sadly. "How long?"

"A good few months or so," Francis tells him. "But she's at the early stages so she remembers most things thankfully. So, one day, she tells me about you and her and how she would like to get in touch. Reminisce, I guess."

"I'd be happy to!" Nostradamus breathes out in shock. "So much has happened since we saw each other last."

Francis raises his brows. "Yeah?"

The man blushes slightly. "My parents didn't want me with an Italian girl. They sent me to Spain and I met a Spanish woman and moved back home to France after we got married. We have two daughters and my wife... She passed away six years ago. Cancer."

"I'm so sorry," Bash replies. "Why did your parents stop you from being with her?"

"They wanted me to marry a French girl, someone native," Nostradamus says pointedly and the younger men nod. "They thought she would have used me for a citizenship card. I know that's not Catherine. Catherine was wild, she was free and I fell in love with that."

Francis smiles fondly. "Tell us about how she used to be. To be honest, we only know about her life from the moment she met our father."

Nostradamus nods and stands to go back inside. He returns with a photo album and opens it up to pictures of a younger Catherine and a younger him. "We'd explore Italy many times together. Sneak out of classes but somehow, she still got top marks. She taught me Italian. Protected me against a gang of thugs who tried to steal my wallet. She used to wear these short dresses and do her hair up so big, you'd think it was a beehive."

"Wow," Francis chuckles, looking at the photos with Bash. "She was beautiful, she wasn't lying."

Bash chuckles, rolling his eyes. "No wonder Dad fell in love with her."

"Catherine didn't take crap from anybody," Nostradamus says much to their amusements. "Gave people a piece of her mind, many times! I seldom thought about her over the years, more so my wife died..."

"Yeah, our father died ten years ago," Bash tells him quietly. "She's remarried. New Year's this year."

Nostradamus sighs but give them a soft smile. "We weren't meant to be. Everyone's paths and destinies are different. Thanks to her, I'm open and I'm not an introvert. I even went parasailing the other day. I thought, 'What Would Catherine Do?' and I made big jumps and swam, not sunk."

"You'd be surprised to know that she's mellowed since having kids," Francis says lightly. "But hearing how different she was compared to now... I'm glad we know this part of her even if she can't remember it."

"Makes us value her a lot more," Bash says warmly.

Francis swallows hard, deciding to take a jump of his own as he asks, "Do you know an Olivier?"

Nostradamus freezes. "How do you know that name?"

"Maman called me by it and-"

"I think you should go-"

"You know who he is?" Bash asks as they stand. "Tell us, please."

Nostradamus sighs heavily and bows his head. "Does Catherine know about this meet?"

"No," Francis says truthfully. "But I doubt she'd even open that box for us herself."

Nostradamus sits and they sit down too. He takes a long sip of his lemonade before closing the album. "I'd be betraying her trust if I told you."

"We just want to know, we deserve to know. She's admitted that he's my half-brother, I want the truth," Francis says. To set me free, to make it up to Mary for being an arsehole. "Please."

The older man swallows hard and meets Francis's eyes. "You look like her. So did Olivier and Clarissa."

"Cl-Clarissa?" Bash asks quietly.

"My parents didn't want me to be with her because... Word got around school that Catherine was sexually assualted-"

Francis gasps, tears springing to his eyes as realisation dawns in Bash's eyes. She understood what Kenna was going through because she'd been through it herself. Francis doesn't want to hear anymore, it's an invasion of her privacy but if it gives them answers over Olivier and now, Clarissa...

"She was. She got pregnant. Her parents were understanding, they'd hoped that I didn't see her any differently and I didn't. I was ready to father those children the minute I set my eyes on them in the hospital," Nostradamus continues tearfully. "But Clarissa... She was ill, she died. She was overcome with grief and she gave Olivier up just before I was sent to Spain. I don't know what happened to him after, I pray he is well... They'd deserved better. She deserved better."

Francis rubs his hands down his face, his eyes wet with tears. They had a sister and a brother. Their sister died. Their brother is somewhere out there and now, his mother is forgetting about him. Does she even know what he looks like?

"I considered him as my son. Olivier... I begged Catherine to let me raise him, even in France or in Spain but she had been visited by my parents who told her to let me go. And she did," Nostradamus says sadly. "There's not a day I don't think about Olivier. I've tried to find him but Italian records are difficult. His name might have even changed."

"What if we could reunite you with her and Olivier?" Francis asks quietly.

Nostradamus. "Are you sure she can handle that pain?"

"She has to otherwise she'll never remember any of you," Francis replies softly. "We'll look for Olivier. He's our brother."