It was easier than Albert had thought it would be to return to Paris. In his mind the roads and buildings of the city had become some sort of painful unnecessary memory best forgotten - but, passing them all by, he realised that despite everything, it still felt like coming home. It was gone midday by the time they reached the city centre; it was still a busy and bustling city, vibrant and lively. It seemed almost unfair, really - after that summer, and especially considering what was happening now, somewhere around here most likely - that it was so; in his imagination, it had always been somewhat more… subdued.

Albert couldn't help but feel a strange twist in his chest when he saw how the city had been rebuilt - after his father's… irrational? Insane? (He was never quite sure) rage, parts of Paris, even landmarks, had been decimated. Afterwards, it had been an awful scene to look upon; smoking piles of rubble that had once been beloved buildings; the head of a statue from an eighteenth century sculpture; the scarred and scorched remains of half of the Tuilleries. Years on, though, and no signs seemed to remain. On the surface, at least, Paris was… normal.

Eugénie appeared to be looking all around her, examining the various streets they passed for their name signs.

"Right…" she muttered, concentrating on weaving in and out of the reckless Parisian traffic, "my mother's apartment should be around here somewhere…"

The trees which lined the street were tall and spindly, their leaves fluttering down in front of the car as they passed by. It wasn't too long before Eugénie let out a pleased exclamation, and turned sharply down a road on their left.

When they pulled up outside, Albert would have to admit to being a little surprised. He knew that there was no way Madame Danglars would have stayed in their old house, but even so, he would not have thought a building like this to her taste: from the outside, it was quite unassuming, and did not look like a large place at all. Indeed, as it turned out, Madame Danglars was in fact living in a set of apartments; stylish, expensive-looking apartments, it was true - but nothing compared to her previous life.

After waiting outside the heavy front door, wind briskly whipping around their already freezing cold bodies, a faintly crackling voice emerged from a box next to the door.

"Who is it?" Eugénie looked faintly surprised, but Albert was definitely glad to see that Madame Danglars was taking her security quite seriously, and he could see from Maximilien's expression that he agreed as well.

"It's Eugénie," she answered cautiously, "and Albert and Maximilien are with me, too." There was a pause, as though the voice on the other end needed a moment to stop and consider. But then, there was an unassuming 'click', and the latch on the door released, and it began to swing open.

They walked up a long, dark flight of stairs and then down the corridor until they finally came to Madame Danglars' rooms - another quiet knock on the door by Eugénie, and soon the white door was flung open, and she was enveloped by a very emotional Madame Danglars. Albert and Maximilien stood back as the older woman sobbed, clinging to her daughter as though she'd never see her again.

"Oh, mother…" Eugénie's voice was a little exasperated, but her affection shone through regardless, as she gently returned her mother's hugs. It was odd, really, Albert couldn't help but think - on the surface, Eugénie really didn't seem to care for her parents at all, and never had. But, her mother… perhaps it was that she was alone now, or that Eugénie suddenly realised her importance once she was threatened - or, if that was a little uncharitable, perhaps she had felt that way all along, but… Eugénie's affection was apparent now, and she gave her mother a small smile as the woman ushered them all inside.

"Ah, Albert, Maximilien…" she sniffed, clearly not ecstatic to see them, but it was evident that those events and the subsequent years had dulled her snobbery somewhat.

Once they stepped inside, it was immediately apparent that however Madam Danglars apartments might have looked from the outside, within it was a completely different story. Beautifully woven Arabian rugs and delicate Chinese vases; stylish sofas and a silken chaise longue; lavishly decorated walls and fine art everywhere. It was all Albert could do not to stare, and he could practically feel Maximilien's incredulity emanating off him.

How on earth could she afford all of this? It was certain that Monsieur Danglars had gone irreparably bankrupt - and nobody knew his current whereabouts, so for all intents and purposes Madame Danglars had become a widow. And, by all rights, she should be a poor widow, too.

"So…" She led them through to the sitting room; a warmly lit area with pale yellow walls. Eugénie's hand had been commandeered by her mother, and so the blonde girl was forced to sit down close beside her, looking slightly uncomfortable, though putting on a weak smile. "I don't suppose I need to tell you what's been going on… I still can't believe it myself - after all, my… my son!" Madame Danglars drew in a deep breath and shuddered, shutting her eyes as though in pain, brow furrowed.

"Mother…" Eugénie leaned forward a little, compassion in her eyes, "don't do this… he's not-- you didn't know--"

"Didn't I, didn't I…" she muttered under her breath, gaze hardly focused as she gestured wildly with a handkerchief. "My son! Back to find me again… they say he's insane, you know. That he's sick, and dangerous. But no one can find him! And the police barely do a thing!"

"Shh, mother… calm down," she whispered softly to Madame Danglars, squeezing her hand comfortingly, "we're all here now, and we'll find out where Cavalcanti's keeping Valentine and Monsieur de Villefort, and we'll sort this out once and for all."

But it seemed that she would not be consoled, and it was with anguished cries of, "oh Andrea! My Andrea…" escaping from her lips that Eugénie firmly but gently stood her up, and led her away to bed.

Albert shook his head and slumped back in his seat, Maximilien doing the same. They could hear the faint noise of Madame Danglars' fretting even from here, and wondered how long she had been like this. Albert ran a hand through his hair and took to studying the walls; anything to keep from focusing his mind too much on a man he wanted nothing more than to forget.

"How long… do you think she's been like this?" he said quietly, unable to image her being able to cope with this on her own, if this was how she reacted once she finally got some company. He knew Maximilien would be shrugging, even though he wasn't looking the other man's way.

"Who knows…" the voice was flat and heavy, and Albert cracked open an eye to see that Maximilien was staring darkly at cabinet which lay half open across the other side of the room - it was clearly filled with as many different spirits and liqueurs as could be crammed inside. Small empty glasses populated the top, many fallen over.

"Ah." Albert fell silent again, suddenly becoming frustrated at how powerless and useless he felt. Maximilien was looking more and more miserable with each passing hour, and he just hated knowing that there was nothing he could do to stop that. "Look…" he began, but his friend interrupted him.

"Albert, please. If you're going to say you're sorry, don't. It… you know none of this is your fault. If it's anyone's, it's mine--" he held up a hand in to ask for him to wait a moment as Albert tried to protest, "--and every moment that passes, I'm worrying about her. Worrying for our baby. Just hoping that… somehow… I'll manage to make everything turn out all right."

He fell silent again, and all Albert could do was nod mutely; Maximilien was still a man of few words, but his succinct and straightforward nature affected Albert more deeply than a flowery speech ever could.

They both looked up as the overhead lights clicked on; Eugénie was standing in the doorway, leaning tiredly on the frame and watching them with a troubled expression on her face.

"Eugénie…" Albert couldn't help it, couldn't keep the concern from his voice. "Are you… how's your mother?"

She attempted to smooth some of the wrinkles out of the front of her dress absent mindedly, and crossed the room to sit across from her friends. "Well… she's resting now, anyway," Eugénie said, mouth twisting into a slight forced smile, "but I really don't think she's well. All this business with Cavalcanti… she's fixated on him, and there's nothing I can do!" She wrung her hands anxiously, "she was calling for Andrea, again and again… it's almost as though she wants to see him, but at the same time is terrified of what he'll do to her."

Eugénie regarded them soberly, leaning forward, arms resting on her knees. The news of how Madame Danglars was taking all of this disturbed Albert greatly, especially since the woman was one of the few who'd had contact with him - and the last thing they needed was her unwittingly encouraging Cavalcanti somehow.

They sat in tense silence for quite a while; the only sound was the quiet, regular ticking of the old grandfather clock which stood in the corner of the room. Albert fidgeted, unable to keep still, before finally giving in and getting up to pace back and forth in front of the window which faced out onto the street.

The road was surprisingly quiet - but then, it was not one of the more popular residential streets in Paris; just a cobbled, homely area, and quite unassuming - which was probably why Madame Danglars had chosen it in the first place. In the weeks following Monsieur Danglars' bankruptcy and disappearance, she had kept as much out of the public spotlight as possible - as far as Albert knew, she had permitted no visitors apart from Eugénie, and then Lucien, too.

Aha - Lucien. It then occurred to Albert that there could be the answer to their questions about Madame Danglars' apparent great wealth… if the quiet, gossiped rumours were true, and Lucien had been doing more than keeping her company; helping Madame Danglars to invest and speculate with some of her own money, then she could well have managed to secure herself financially.

Well, knowing Lucien as he did, it was entirely likely. He glanced away from the window to take in the expensive looking furniture and various art pieces. Of course, it was really none of his business, but still…

He jumped as he suddenly realised that Eugénie was standing right behind him, looking over his shoulder to stare despondently out of the window. The weather was brightening up nicely - in some ways, it felt horribly out of place that such pleasant spring weather was the backdrop to the awful events that had been going on recently. He reached up and rested a hand on her shoulder gently - he wasn't exactly sure what she must be going through, in regards to the threat to herself and her mother… but he hoped he could offer some small measure of comfort, even if he would try, only to fail.

Eugénie noticed this, of course, and her lips curved gratefully, ever so slightly; though her eyes still looked tired, and slightly rimmed with red as though she had been crying. But Albert, though he knew such thoughts at this time were completely inappropriate, couldn't help but think that she still… looked utterly beautiful. Ever since they were all small, he'd thought of Eugénie as being tough and strong; capable of handling anything. And this was certainly true, as she had demonstrated admirably the past few days, but… he could still see the underlying vulnerability that wavered in her eyes; that she was scared, and not quite as fine as she always tried to make out.

It was Eugénie who, at last, broke their mutually imposed silence. "Well…" she said, voice sounding slightly hollow and flat. "I know it's still only quite early, but… I know I certainly didn't get much sleep last night, and I'm sure we could all do with some rest. This place isn't really all that big, as I'm sure you can see… so you and Albert and sharing a room, if that's okay, Maximilien."

The tall ex-soldier nodded, and stood up. "That's fine with me, thank you, Eugénie." He looked around slightly questioningly, and she smiled, gesturing over towards the door farthest from them.

"It's through there, first door on the left." He inclined his head in gratitude, and then turned and began to make his way back towards the front door.

"I'll go and fetch all the luggage from the car, so don't you two worry about them." Both Albert and Eugénie started to protest, but Maximilien waved their concerns away with a smile, and disappeared from view.

Eugénie sighed and bit her lip, returning to gazing disinterestedly out of the window. "It's just… how does he do it?" she whispered helplessly, turning sorrowful eyes towards Albert. " After everything…Valentine…and the baby…and Villefort…and yet he's still…"

"I know," Albert replied, almost brokenly - he knew it was difficult for them all, but for Maximilien… the pain must be immeasurable.

Suddenly, though, without knowing who moved where or what happened first, Eugénie was right in front of him and they were embracing tightly, desperately, as though the other might disappear for good any second. She had her arms wrapped around his waist, and his lips drew just about level with her forehead. Eugénie rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes squeezing them shut as though to try and block out the whole world.

"Albert…" her voice was hesitant, and Albert pressed a kiss on top of her blonde curls in response. He felt conflicted himself, but the warmth of Eugénie settled against him, and the feeling that things hadn't felt this normal between them in years held him back from saying anything.

And so, the two clung to each other in the quiet room, content merely with the close, comforting presence. A few moments later, though, the front door slammed and they instinctively drew apart. Maximilien entered the drawing room soon after, piled high with bags.

"Here, let me get some of those…" Albert hurried over, relieving his friend of some of the burden.

"Thanks… there's more of those stairs than you think!" Maximilien managed to crack a small, weary smile, and then turned and went to seek out the room that Eugénie had designated for him and Albert.

Albert noticed that Eugénie was watching them quietly, thoughtfully, as they left the room. He knew he had to return, as now more than ever it seemed obvious that they needed to have a discussion about certain… things. His and Eugénie's relationship had always been slightly messed up and unstable; so Cavalcanti hadn't really affected things much in that respect.

Their room was an ample size with two single beds; it was not as lavishly furnished as the rest of the apartments, but then he hadn't expected a guest suite to be. He laid down his cases on one of the beds, and with his apologies, left Maximilien unpacking and returned to look for Eugenie.

As he had half expected, she was gone from the drawing room when he re-entered the area.

He wandered down the hallway leading out from the opposite side of the room, the walls covered in a dark blue design - truthfully, Albert thought that it gave the corridor a rather oppressive feel, and it didn't help his resolve to find Eugénie one bit. He slowed to a halt and turned around, glancing from door to door in an attempt to work out which was hers; he regretted not taking note of where she had gone before, as he had absolutely no desire to accidentally walk in on Madame Danglars.

Thankfully, he was saved from the potential embarrassment by suddenly noticing that the door at the end was open ajar, and warm, bright light streamed out from between the crack. Steeling himself, Albert took a deep breath and forced himself to get to the door, and knock after only moment's hesitation.

"Come in!" A familiar voice called from within, slightly muffled by the distance. Albert found himself fidgeting slightly, trying to find something to occupy his hands; in the end, he settled for just shoving them in his pockets so he could try and concentrate on remembering what he had planned to say.

…of course, really, he had no idea of what he was going to say or even how he was going to broach the subject. He pushed open the door, and found Eugénie sitting across the room at her dressing table, hair brush in hand.

"Um, Eugénie, look…" he cast around for words desperately, eyes studying the floor, the bed, the lampshade - anything that wasn't the blonde girl nearby. She seemed to take pity on him and stood up, walking over until she passed him by, tugging the chair that was sitting by her desk over until it too was near her dressing table.

"Albert…sit down, you're making me nervous with all your pacing." Until she said that, he realised he hadn't had any idea he'd been doing it - which only heightened his embarrassment, and stained his cheeks a deeper pink. "So… what is it?" She turned casually back to her mirror, reaching for a comb to work her hair through again.

He couldn't help but feel a brief flash of annoyance at how casually Eugénie was acting; her habit of feigning indifference was something he had never liked, and he knew that there were things left unresolved… and things that - he at least - wanted making clear.

If she was going to be unhelpful…well, two could play at that game.

"What do you think?" Inwardly, he grimaced. Were they destined to always return to bickering like ten year olds? Eugénie stilled at the irritation in his voice, but did not look at him, and instead seemed determined to take great interest in rearranging everything on her dressing table. Perfume bottle -- here, hair brush -- over there, necklace -- right on this side…

Eugénie had her heavy red curtains drawn, so the only light in the room came from the overhead electric lights; it gave everything an odd sort of glow, but made Eugénie look very drawn, and almost ill.

"All right… fine…" he stood up abruptly his chair falling back with a loud clatter as it hit the floor. She looked up at him in shock, while he faced her seriously. "It's… it's about before. You know, with Camille. You made certain… assumptions, and I think--"

"Oh!" she interrupted him, eyes widening slightly, "Albert, about that… it's okay, isn't it? You know I don't mind--"

"No!" This time it was his turn to interrupt, gesturing helplessly in exasperation, "Eugénie, that's not the point at all. You -- you completely misunderstood, and jumped to conclusions, and… well. There was never anything between Franz and me; you should know that of all people…"

He trailed off, picking up his fallen chair and slumping down into the seat. Eugénie was merely watching him, expression unreadable.

"But, in retrospect," she began quietly, studying his reaction, "it's just… he loved you Albert, so much. You must have---"

"No." He interrupted her again, but this time softly, sadly. "I only… I only realised last night after you…" He bit his lower lip thoughtfully, looking up to see Eugénie watching him uncertainly. "I can't believe I was… that blind. But Franz didn't… didn't want me to know."

Surprisingly, that realisation hurt; that Franz hadn't wanted him to know. What did you think my reaction would be? That I'd hate you, or laugh at you? But I could never…

"I've been an idiot," he said swallowing painfully, "but, you know, Eugénie… it wouldn't have changed much, not really. And, as for Camille…" Albert raised an eyebrow and half shrugged, "I can assure you that, while I do count him as a friend; he's just that."

Eugénie's eyes suddenly looked amused, and she returned his shrug. "Oblivious as ever, isn't that right, Albert? I'll admit, I didn't see much… but… the way he was looking at you - it just, it reminded me a little of Franz, that's all." But she reached out, expression suddenly sober, and took his hand. "Oh, Albert… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed things without giving you time to explain."

Albert finally cracked a smile and gently squeezed her hand, "Eugénie… you say I'm oblivious, but how could you not have realised? I know it was a few years ago, but what happened at the airport…it wasn't… I mean… that was what I had been hoping for." He raised his gaze and found her watching him with a small smile on her face, and he blushed a little. "Look, I'm awful at things like this -- I just meant--"

But whatever he had meant, Albert never managed to say. Eugénie had leaned forward suddenly, covering his lips with her own. The kiss was short, but tender, and when she pulled away, it made Albert's heart ache to see the happiness visible in her face; an expression he hadn't seen her with at all recently.

"Eugénie…" he stood up and pulled her up too, bringing her close to him and holding her tightly, as though he'd never get another chance.

It was different, now, than it had been before. He had been sixteen then; woefully confused and still working through his tangled thoughts on Franz and the Count - oh, especially the Count. It pained him to admit it - especially now - but in the light of their conversation… he knew now that he had been in love with the Count. He turned his head slightly and rested his cheek against Eugénie's hair. He could smell the faint, fragrant scent of her shampoo, and it gave him an indescribable sense of comfort.

But that… that had been then, and that had been different. During his travels, he'd had a lot of time to think about everything he'd done, and try and analyse it detachedly. He'd been trying to escape from who he really was; he'd certainly grown up a little in the process, but in the end… he really was just the same boy who'd run off to Luna with his best friend all those years ago.

The Count had fascinated him; he was mysterious, charismatic, intelligent… everything Albert admired. He had meant… so much to him; and Albert knew that, at one point, he would have thrown everything away without a second thought, if only it had made the Count happy.

Eugénie pulled back a little and kissed him on the cheek, blonde hair tickling his nose. But… this person, this girl: she was the most important thing in the world to him now; had become so without him even realising it. He felt his chest tighten uncomfortably as worry welled up once more. He wanted to do everything possible to try and keep her safe, because he refused to risk losing her: Eugénie was in danger no matter what she claimed. He had already almost lost her to Cavalcanti once…

"I…" Albert leaned forward and touched his forehead gently to hers, blue eyes serious. "Eugénie, promise me that you'll be careful. I know that you feel somehow responsible, but please… don't do anything reckless."

She tilted her head and gave him an strange smile. "I do think about the consequences of my actions, you know." She lifted her hand and knocked gently on the side of his head, "unlike certain people around here I could mention!" He pretended to look insulted while she laughed and took a step back, studying him. "You know, Albert - you may yet become a responsible young man."

He raised an eyebrow at the dubious nature of that compliment, but then before he knew it she was hugging him again, voice muffled slightly by his shirt.

"You should go back to Maximilien, you know, he'll be wondering where you are." She looked up, eyes peeping out from beneath her dishevelled hair. "And we all need some sleep, especially if tomorrow's the day we've got planned for action."

He nodded, and reluctantly parted from her.

As it turned out, however - perhaps as could only be expected - things didn't quite work out according to plan.