Emily lowered her hand and said softly, "Pleasure to meet you, Andre."

Brigitte narrowed her eyes at the two young people standing before her. She knew sparks when she saw them fly, and these two were about to set a fire. She had only seen this kind of intensity once before, and she had been generating it. William had made her whole body tingle the first time her had touched her.

Andre had been helping her out for some time. He would come over and tend to her garden, or get her groceries. He was a nice young man, and Brigitte loved him almost like a son. No one could have taken Michel's place, but this boy had been a fine substitute.

And now she was shell shocked to learn that Michel was truly alive, and living quite happily, from what Emily had told her. But he had never called, never written. He had let her believe that her only son, her baby, had died for the god forsaken CIA that had killed his father.

The goddamned agency had taken her granddaughter too, and Brigitte knew deep her heart that Emily would die as well. She often wondered what it was that attracted the Vaughn family to the CIA. It was a curse, a curse that she was helpless to break.

But Michel was alive. He was married to a woman that was CIA, and they had a daughter that was CIA.

And there was only one thing that truly made her sick. Thinking of it made bile burn her throat and threaten to suffocate her. Michel had married the spawn of the devil. The devil that had killed her beloved William.

She would never let anyone know how she felt, no; she was smarter than that. Michel apparently loved that woman more than anything, and voicing her opinions now would get her nowhere. But it still pained her to think that Emily had inherited traits of a vicious murderer, a woman that still haunted Brigitte's dreams.

Brigitte masked her emotions quickly, and took Emily by the arm. "Why don't you help Andre in the garden while I make us some breakfast? The morning air will do you good." She practically pushed Emily outside, Andre following in their wake. Emily was a good person, and she deserved to be with someone like Andre, Brigitte reasoned. Shutting the door behind her, she glanced out the window to see Andre leading the way towards her garden. She smiled to herself, and then began to prepare breakfast.

***

Andre led the way towards Brigitte's well-tended garden, with Emily trailing. It was a pleasant morning, and as they traveled through the carefully manicured path, Emily was bombarded with a variety of scents. The roses to her left almost shimmered perfume, which mingled with the sharp aroma of rosemary that was growing to her right.

Andre stopped her by a section of plants that grew in straight lines. Emily looked at him curiously, having no idea why they stopped. He bent down and grabbed a plant firmly by its base. He tugged slightly, uprooting gousse d'ail, or garlic to Emily, and released a pungent odor. He looked up at Emily expectantly, and she stared back.

"I have never gardened before in my life," she admitted somewhat reluctantly. Bending down all day in dirt had never appealed to her, and Sydney had agreed with her. All of the outside work was left to her father, who took it with an exuberance neither woman had ever understood.

Andre chuckled at her expression before handing her the stinking garlic. He spoke quietly, although loud enough for Emily to hear. "I always try to learn something new everyday. Here's your chance." He continued to pull the bulbs from the clinging earth and handed each bulb to Emily, who loaded up her arms. After a few moments he spoke again, desperately feeling the need to know more about her.

"Have you ever visited Brigitte before?"

Emily took the question seriously, contemplating possible answers that would not result in more questions. None did. "No, but I have wanted to meet her for a long time."

Andre nodded to the ground. "She is quite a remarkable woman. Did you say you were from her husband's side?"

"Yes, and I wish I would have gotten the chance to meet him. He seemed like such a good man. Does Brigitte ever speak of him?"

He moved to another bulb. "Yes, quite often. My favorite stories though, are the ones of her son, Michel. She misses him very much."

Emily smiled thinly, feeling a pang of guilt. "Yes, she would. I've heard that he was very extraordinary."

"Maybe, but foolhardy. He practically signed his death warrant the day he joined the American CIA."

A blush crept up Emily's cheeks, and she found herself defending her agency. "The CIA is not a death trap, as most people think. I think it's a good thing, people defending their country from spies."

"As you would. You are American, as I presume?"

Even though Emily had spent the majority of her years a Canadian citizen, she considered herself American. "Yes. Was it that obvious?"

"To me it was. Your accent threw me off a bit though. It is not the usual French accent most Americans adopt. And you speak the language quite well, I might add."

Once again Emily felt heat on her face. She was use to people complementing on her ability to speak different languages, but for some reason Andre's actually meant something to her. She'd never had this kind of reaction to anyone before.

"Thank you. My father speaks French, and I learned it as I learned English."

Andre stood and brushed the dirt from his hands. He looked deep in Emily's eyes and studied them for a few moments.

"I see what she means now," Andre commented solemnly before taking some of the pungent bulbs from Emily's arms. Emily stared at his retreating back in confusion before following him down the path.

"See what?" Emily asked impatiently when he gave no signs of continuing.

"Brigitte always told me the Vaughn eyes were breathtaking and dangerously hypnotic. She claims its what drew her to William in the first place. Sparkling emeralds, I think, is the term she used."

Emily smiled shyly to herself, thanking her dad for such a wonderful gift.

Before they reached the back door of the cottage, Emily spoke out suddenly, causing Andre to jump. "To-sia"

Andre looked at her, eyebrows raised. She looked at the ground before smiling slightly.

"It means thank you in Taiwanese. You said you tried to learn something new everyday."



***

Brigitte had made an excellent breakfast, and almost as soon as they finished she sent the two young adults on another errand.

"Andre, Emily, would you mind picking up some tarragon from Sofia Outten? I'm out and I'll need some for le dîner tonight." And before either could speak a word she had them out the door, stumbling onto the path that led towards the heart of the village.

"Somehow I got the feeling she was trying to get rid of us," Andre commented dryly as he walked towards a nearby cottage.

Emily laughed, Andre joining her shortly after. He looked at her, eyes sparkling. "Your laugh is contagious."

Her grin stayed on her lips until they reached Mrs. Sofia Outten's door, upon which Andre knocked several times. A plump woman with bright blue eyes answered, and nearly burst with delight when she saw who was at her door.

"Andre! You look so much better than when I saw you last! Are you well enough to be walking around, and without a coat no less!" She patted Andre's cheek while she spoke, and noticed Emily only after she had finished scolding him. "And who is this? Have you finally found someone to settle down with, my dear?"

Emily blushed scarlet and felt her fingers vibrating like mad. Andre smiled from her embarrassment before introducing her. "No, Sofia. This is Brigitte Vaughn's great niece, Emily. We are running some errands for her."

Sofia looked Emily over critically before staring into her emerald irises. "Yes, yes, you have the eyes. Exactly like William and Michel. Judging by that I would assume you are from the Vaughn side. Am I correct?"

Emily smiled softly. "Yes."

Sofia pulled her into a comforting hug before patting her cheek. "Then you are practically family to me! I have known Brigitte for my whole life, and she is like a sister. And on the whole village's behalf, I welcome you to Fleury."

They talked to Sofia for an hour, and during that time Emily noticed something a bit unnerving. She had been carefully watching Andre, without being obvious, and was surprised to hear an Irish accent slip into his French. It only happened once, and after time Emily began to think she had imagined it. He didn't seem to notice at all, and made no sign of correcting his voice.

After bringing Brigitte the tarragon, she shooed them out once more, leaving Andre and Emily outside the small cottage. Emily spent the afternoon learning about plants and herbs, along with the well-kept secrets of gardening. She noticed whenever Andre touched her hands to show her something; she felt a small shock and tingly sensation where he had touched her. They both ignored the obvious connection and gardened well into the evening. It was only when Brigitte called for dinner did they return, filthy, and in Emily's case, sunburned. Andre left soon after and Emily felt the loss of his presence greatly, which troubled her.

Once Brigitte had gone to bed, Emily recovered the tight dress that concealed the Rambaldi document. Brushing her fingers lightly over the aged parchment, Emily read the complex code of Rambaldi's writing. It had almost become another language to her, reading as easily as if the paper only contained Taiwanese. Somehow none of the analysts at the CIA possessed her skill of deciphering Rambaldi's words without some sort of code. The oldest and most arrogant of the analysts claimed that Rambaldi favored her family, and the only reason she could read his works without help was because he had made such a vulgar prophecy of her grandmother. They said it was a condolence gift.

Emily agreed somewhat, although she wouldn't have used the term "favored." Linked maybe, but definitely not favored. And from the words he wrote about her grandmother, she knew Rambaldi did not favor her genealogy, but perhaps he had been connected to them.

As Emily translated, a quivering excitement ran throughout the length of her spine. This parchment, the one she had long searched for, held the location of yet another of his numerous caves. The directions gave no hint of what was inside, but there was a warning of truth and darkness held within its walls. And somehow, she wasn't surprised to find that directions on that crumbling piece of paper led to a place barely two hours walk from where Emily was sitting.

"That man knew more about me than myself," she muttered, replacing the parchment back in the lining of her dress. After hiding it under the couch, she sank down into the overstuffed cushions and tried to relax. Martial arts and CIA training had taught her ways to get all the benefits of sleep without taking up the time, and she exercised her training to the full extent. If she intended to walk two hours on the rough French plain, she was going to need all the energy she could get.



***



"Grand-maman, I need to take a walk by myself. There are some things I need to think over," Emily spoke quietly, wanting to begin her journey quickly. Brigitte nodded to her, smiling foolishly. It was something she had always wanted, to be a grandmother, and it filled her with pride to have such a strong and beautiful granddaughter.

"Sois prudente, ma chérie."

Emily smiled and nodded in reply. "Always. I'll be back in a few hours."

She had searched around Brigitte's garden shed the previous day, so Emily was equipped with a flashlight, a small shovel, and ropes, as well as water she had bottled. The going was slow, and after an hour had passed she got a tingly feeling down her spine, telling her that she was being watched. The landscape was bumpy, so Emily could not be sure she was alone, but whoever was following her did not make an appearance, so she dismissed it.

An hour later she was rewarded by the sight of twin hills, nestled together and protected by two trees that seemed to beckon to her. Emily climbed to a point where the hills sloped together and scraped with the shovel. The blade soon struck rock, and Emily cleared mounds of dirt to reveal the Rambaldi eye. Prying the shovel around the edges of the circular rock, she dislodged it with a few pushes. A gaping hole went straight into the ground, and Emily could detect a well-secured ladder hanging from the opening. She left all her supplies outside, swung both legs into the hole, and eased herself down onto the ancient rungs. She descended several minutes, and just when the light became scarce did her feet touch the earth.

The foolishness of leaving her flashlight outside hit Emily suddenly, causing her to turn around and begin to climb the ladder back to the surface. After pulling herself up a few rungs, something struck her hard, and she fell to the bottom of the cave.

She felt metal puncture her skin, which was followed by a slight stinging sensation. It quickly gained intensity, until it was burning trails throughout her veins. Helpless to stop the poison coursing, Emily felt it blazing a path to her heart. As the world became dimmer, she heard a gunshot echo, shaking the ground that was slowly swallowing her.

Then darkness.





A/N: I hope you guys like this chapter, because it took me forever to write! I know its been a long time since I updated, but I wanted to make sure it was good. Reviews would be most welcome, and I want to know what you guys think about Andre. I got a couple surprises hidden up my sleeve concerning him. :-)

*Duck

ps. Wanted to thank Amy for brainstorming with me. Don't know where I'd be without her help.

Also thanks to Twinnie. You're absolutely right. Automatic translators don't work, but I don't know anyone who speaks French.

-Sorry it's taking me forever to update, but I have finals, so it may be awhile. As soon as they've fried my brain, I promise I'll finish it!