Emily stared at him in a slight daze. Shaking her head softly, she allowed herself a sliver of satisfaction. He was Irish.

"So what are you doing here?" She asked, her voice cold. It was easier for her to control the tone her voice emitted.

"I'm taking care of Brigitte. That's it," Ian responded, relishing the feeling of the native accent on his tongue.

"Since you're obviously trained, I'm not going to waste my time asking who sent you, but I do want to know why someone feels that Brigitte needs protection."

"Not protection. Care. I'm keeping her comfortable." Ian was starting to get annoyed. "But I could ask you the same question. No one just shows up uninvited on their great-aunts doorstep. You're obviously related, but Brigitte never mentioned you. Not once," he accused, voice rising slightly.

Emily sighed, frustrated. He was passing her lie tests, but she could never be 100% sure. "She didn't know I was alive. There were reasons, but none I'm willing to disclose. As for the showing up part, that was a mission gone bad. My partner was killed and if I'm not mistaken, the woman in the cave was the one who killed him. I needed a place to run, so I came here."

Ian sat still, absorbing the fact that Emily did dangerous things for a living. He was also surprised that she would reveal that much. For all she knew, he could be making it all up. "Can I ask why you joined the CIA? I'm repaying a debt, and its difficult to understand why you would volunteer your life so willingly," he questioned.

Emily glanced at him sharply; he had just admitted he wasn't there by choice. He was definitely new at this. "Let's just say its in my blood."

"Blood? You never met William or Michael—" Ian stopped mid-sentence, the truth dawning on him. "Michael's not dead, is he?"

Dodging the question, Emily changed the subject abruptly. "Why are you in debt?"

The change was not lost on him, but Ian answered the question anyway. "When I was nine, my family was killed in a train accident. I was among six survivors of three hundred. My parents had been disowned for their love, and none of my relatives would take me in. I was put into an orphanage for two years until I was taken. I was never formally adopted, but my mentor cared for me like an uncle. He educated me to the fullest extent, and when I turned 21, he told me my education was complete. He asked me for a favor and I readily agreed. My family taught me to repay my debts, and I would not shame my family's teachings."

Emily felt a stirring in her heart, reaching out to the young man who had lost so early in life. The first time she had been introduced to death she had been ten, when Donovan died. She was used to it now; she had to be. Being shocked by death could get her killed. Ian had only been nine when everything was taken away.

Allowing her gaze to linger on his arms, it was hard for her to imagine that they had held her only minutes before. She had only once felt that safe, before she knew about her parent's past. Her heart was pounding loudly now, trying to tell her something, trying to warn her. She ignored it.

"You don't need to tell her why you're here. She loves you as a grandson, and it would break her heart to know the truth. What we said today, what was revealed, stays here," she ordered, with the feeling of giving a mission. "Just promise me that you love her as well."

Ian smiled thinly at her verdict. "I do. She reminds me of my own grandmother, which is probably why I allowed myself to get so attached."

The walk back to the cottage was long, but made easier by the company they gave each other. Within a few feet, Emily felt her heart drop into her stomach. Ian noticed her stop, and was frightened by the look on her face. "What is it?"

"Something's not right, I can feel it."

Running ahead, with Ian close behind her, she opened the back door to the cottage and gasped in horror.

***

"Oh my god. Brigitte?" Emily rushed to the fallen woman, checking her pulse. Looking up to Ian's somber eyes, she whispered, "She's still alive, but barely."

Without a word Ian bent down and cradled Brigitte in his arms. He walked slowly out of the kitchen to deposit her gently on the bed. He left her swiftly, accidentally bumping into Emily who had come up behind him.

"Where are you going?" Emily asked, anger flashing.

"To get a doctor. She needs help," he answered, soothing her. He strode past, leaving Emily to gather blankets around Brigitte. 

"Please don't die, Grandmere. You have to see Dad. You have to see Michel."

At her son's name, Brigitte stirred. Her eyelids fluttered open, viewing Emily sadly. Reaching weakly for Emily's hand, she gave it a gentle squeeze. "I have seen Michel, and in my heart he died a long time ago. The person I wanted to meet was you, and I'm glad that I have. I've always wanted a granddaughter, and Michel has granted my wish. My time is near, child, I have felt it all week. I asked God to let me live long enough to witness a miracle, and I feel that I have. You are it, Emily Francine Vaughn, my granddaughter. Don't cry, mon cherie. I have lived a long life," Brigitte rasped, her breathing shallow. Emily knelt beside the bed, hand still clasped in the frail fingers of her grandmother.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she watched the only grandmother she knew lose hold on life.

"Grandmere, we've barely gotten to know each other. Please don't leave me now," Emily whispered. Her plea went unheard, because Brigitte Miette Delorme Vaughn had already left her body behind.

When the realization came, Emily began to sob, holding Brigitte's hand to her heart. Strong arms encircled her, pulling Emily from her grandmother's clasp. They turned her around, and she let her emotions flood out, placing her head upon Ian's chest.

An older man viewed the scene with extreme sadness; he'd known Brigitte his entire adult life, caring for her children when they were sick. They had not been fast enough, but he knew even if the boy owned a sports car, Brigitte would have been gone fore they got there. His only comfort was the knowledge she had not been alone in her passing. Shifting his gaze to the two people before him, he noticed the way Andre was trying to soothe her pain, and the way the girl was letting him. He had never seen her before, but the anguish she was displaying meant she had known Brigitte and loved her. Her cries did not subside as he left the small cottage, and he wondered whom she was, to react like that.

How long they stood there, wrapped in each other, neither could be sure. Ian succumbed to his grief shortly after Emily, tears streaming down his cheeks to drip onto silky brown hair. When Emily finally calmed it took her a few moments to realize where she was; tightly held in Ian's arms.

***

A succession of mourners in black made their way towards the simple graveyard behind the small village church. Each face was streaked with tears and salt and each were a mask of sadness. Two figures stood supporting each other, their despair even greater than the villagers.

Michael Vaughn had long ago accepted that he would never see his mother or visit his boyhood home, so it was difficult for him to return. To protect themselves, he and Sydney traveled with aliases and disguises, but he could not dampen the emotions coursing through him as he attended his mother's funeral. Sydney, veil across her face, stood next to him, hand held tightly by his. Their daughter stood ahead, supported by a young man unknown to her parents. Tears ran down his cheeks unchecked, leaving stains on the black suit he wore. One of the last to pay respects, he touched the smooth wood and spoke softly, asking forgiveness.

Emily and Ian stood apart from everyone else, trying not to lose control. In the past week they used each other for comfort, and left the questions hanging in the air.

The funeral over, Ian knew he had to leave. No word had been sent as to the details of his extraction, but he felt his mentor's presence all day. Supporting Emily distracted him from seeking him out, but now, with the funeral over, Ian tried to say goodbye.

"Emily, I have no reason to be here anymore, and neither do you. You have to get back to the—your job, and I will probably receive another assignment," he stated simply, looking into her bloodshot eyes. "It's hard to think that you'll be off saving the world, but I know you love it, and I have no doubt that you're good at it. I hope to god that we're never on opposite sides, but if we are, know that it's not entirely my choice. I have a debt to pay."

Emily felt a tugging at her chest,, but fought the feelings his words evoked. Instead of responding she could only nod and squeeze his hand. She let go quickly and left him to join her parents. Brigitte, not knowing her family lived, left everything she owned in possession of the village church. That left nothing for the Vaughn's to do, so their plane left only a few hours after the service.

A cab awaited the three, Emily climbing between her parents and allowing them to comfort her, in the way only parents know how. Within an hour she cried herself to sleep.

***

Ian stood alone, a void growing in his mind until he was numb.   He had only allowed himself to reach that point of seclusion once before, when his family died. His mentor's voice cut through the barrier, bringing him down, back to the pain.

"I hadn't realized you allowed yourself to get so attached. Although, I can't say I blame you. She was a remarkable woman. I'm sorry she passed." As the man spoke a reassuring hand gripped Ian's shoulder, comforting him.

"Andrew, why did you send me to care for her?"

Andrew looked solemnly at the downtrodden young man, and gave him a tight smile. "I never told you that I have a sister. A remarkable woman, but also a tad foolish. You see, she lived a dangerous life, had a forbidden love, a love that could've gotten her killed.  They eventually did die, leaving their family alone. Brigitte lost her son, leaving no one to care for her. I take care of my family." He left Ian, eyes wide, to talk to his driver.

It was fitting at that time the sky decided to crack, letting raindrops splash onto the freshly dug ground. Ian allowed himself to be soaked, not even noticing the darkened sky or distant boom of thunder. The fact that Andrew was Emily's uncle left his head spinning. Ian had always felt that he was a replacement for someone his mentor had lost. Now he knew, and it would have almost struck him as humorous,  had he not been so heartbroken. He lost two people that day; a grandmother he had come to love, and someone that had managed to steal a part of his heart. Ian knew, deep down, he would never see Emily again, and it killed him.

To fall in love in such a short amount of time boggled him, but it was the truth. Although it didn't matter anymore. Emily was gone to the CIA, and he was back under Andrew's wing, awaiting another "favor". No, he told himself, it didn't matter.

He would spend the next few weeks trying to convince himself that his affection for Emily Vaughn did not, and would never matter.

It didn't work.

A/N: Phew! I'm sorry it took so long for me to update, but I had the hardest time writing this chapter! Don't hurt me, please, I loved Brigitte too. After this, there's one more chapter and then an epilogue. Getting close to the end!

*Duck