Hey guys! Sorry about the cliffhanger last chapter, but it had to be done. Tis the curse. Oh well. Here's the next chapter! Thanks for the reviews that were left on the last chapter, they made me have little freakouts in some funny places. Haha y'all are awesome. You're all going to love what I have in store later on. Thanks for reading! Enjoy!

Adeline sat on a wooden stool in the corner of Estelle Bonnefoy's room. She had taken to doing this during the break in her shift. She would get a cup of coffee from the tiny break room, maybe snatch a croissant from a plate on the counter. Estelle's room was only a few second's walk from that break room, and she would sit in the corner and watch her as she sipped her coffee and nibbled on whatever she had managed to find. Estelle never acknowledged her presence, and Adeline never pressed her.

Every day that she was around her, her heart ached. For Estelle. For Francis, wherever he was. She hated to admit it even to herself, but her heart ached for her own selfishness as well.

She replayed that moment at the post office over and over again in her mind. She could have turned and walked out and everything would be fine. She could have crumpled the letter up in her fist and never dropped it in the slot at all. She never should have even entertained the thought of writing that letter in the first place. How could she have betrayed the one man in the world that loved her no matter what?

Well, she had ruined that for sure.

If she hadn't signed his name on a bullet by now, then there was no possible way that he would ever forgive her. That is if he could even bring himself to look at her face.

She despised herself.

If he was still alive, and she somehow managed to find him again… She would never be able to make up for what she had done. Not if she spent the rest of her life saying how sorry she was. Not if she filled every book on the planet with "Forgive me"s. Francis would never forgive her. Not even God Himself would stoop so low.

She had brought all of this on herself, that she knew, and she welcomed the torture that it doled out on her with open arms.

She deserved every sleepless night, every stabbing pain in her heart, every tear she sobbed over her betrayal.

Oh yes, did she ever deserve it.

Many times she wondered if there was any possible way for her to take it all back. Sign some form saying that she made a mistake. Maybe she could talk to someone and get everything reversed. Maybe the letter somehow got itself lost in the mail. That was a real possibility. After all, France was in chaos. The postal system was not high on the list of Nazi priorities at the moment.

Maybe he was still alive? There was always hope that that was the case. Francis wasn't suspected of anything as far as she knew, until she sent that heinous letter. If he was alive, he would have to come back. He couldn't very well leave his sister here alone, could he? No, Francis loved her too much. He would do everything in his power to come back to her, that Adeline knew. It was the only thing that she was certain of now.

There was a knock at the door of the hospital room. Adeline was startled and wrenched from her thoughts, and she stood up to answer the knocking. She slowly opened the door, but only just wide enough so that her body still blocked the entrance to the room.

"Yes?" she asked the tall, handsome, yet rough-looking man standing in the hall before her. He had a head full of thick dark hair that was brushed back, broad shoulders that were covered with a canvas jacket that was stained in places and springing up holes everywhere. He had a nice face that contrasted with his worn clothes. Despite his apparent youth, he had fine creases in the corners of his eyes from years of smiles and laughter. He smiled pleasantly when Adeline opened the door. "Can I help you?" she asked.

"Yes mademoiselle," the man said, "You can." He tried to peer around Adeline's shoulder and into the room. "Is this where Estelle Bonnefoy is being cared for?"

Adeline shifted her weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably to block the stranger's view. "That's none of your business," she remarked, now slightly wary. Nothing good ever came of strangers asking about a rape victim, especially one that survived a beating that should have killed her. One could never tell who was out to do someone else harm, especially these days. You can't trust anyone, she thought, and instantly shuddered at her own realization. The irony of it all.

The man frowned, and he looked almost slightly offended at her reply. "Actually, it is my business."

Now Adeline was getting nervous. She put a hand up against the door, ready to slam it shut in this stranger's face. She glanced out at the hall, which was, of course, conveniently empty. Where is anyone when you need them? she thought. Mon Dieu, I wish I wasn't alone… She took a moment to calm her mind and she steadied her voice before she replied. "Well if it is your business after all, what's your name?"

The stranger drew his mouth taut into a line across his face. The smile faded from his eyes. He glanced around the hall. Seeing no one, he turned his gaze back to Adeline. His voice dropped to a grumble in the back of his throat that was nearly impossible for Adeline to understand. "My name is none of your concern," he mumbled. "All you need to know is that I'm a friend of Francis'."

Adeline's heart stopped at the mention of her lover's name. This man knows Francis! Maybe he knows about where he is, how he is… If he's alive.

But if this man knew Francis, then he must be in the Resistance. That would explain his reluctance to share his name with her.

But it could all be a sham to hurt either her or Estelle. How could she know that this man really knew Francis and didn't pose a threat?

She took a moment to collect her thoughts before she spoke again. Her voice dropped low to match the stranger's. "How do I know you're not lying to me?"

The stranger bowed his head and leaned forward to whisper in Adeline's ear. His breath was hot against her hair and his stubbly cheek scratched hers. Her body froze partly out of fear, partly out of anticipation. Her spine went rigid, waiting.

His words made her breath catch in her throat. "Your name is Adeline Moreau. You have been with Francis Bonnefoy for nearly a year and a half. He loves you with all of his heart, and you betrayed him, but despite this he still loves you. And you still love him back, don't you?"

Her stunned silence was the only answer that the stranger needed. He continued.

"The last time that you saw him, you two fought bitterly. He stormed away and left you to come and see me. I had presented him an offer that he had previously denied, and he informed me that he would take me up on my offer now. That evening he left this area and was not followed. The Gestapo have no idea of his whereabouts because he is not on their radar. The letter you sent to Hauptsturmführer Gilbert Beilschmidt was intercepted by a contact in the postal service and destroyed. There are no existing connections between Francis and the Resistance. He is alive and fighting for the cause, but I will not tell you where or how. All you need to know is that he is out of the picture and is planning to return shortly."

The man drew back and stood up straight. Adeline took a moment to breathe and process the information that this stranger had just given her. One thought ran circles in her mind.

Francis is alive!

The more she thought about this, the more heavy the thought sat in her mind. Shortly, the tears rolled from her lashes and the sobs racked her body. The stranger embraced her and stroked her hair. They stood this way for many minutes, until Adeline pulled away to wipe the tearstains from her cheeks.

"I… I have to get… get back to work," she stuttered. Before she left Estelle's room, she placed a hand on the stranger's shoulder and whispered a shaky "Thank you" before she left to continue her shift. She left the door of Estelle's room open for the strange man who knew everything.

The stranger quietly entered the hospital room, watching Estelle in the bed. She was fast asleep. Dead to the world in more ways than one.

He eased himself into a chair that sat at the foot of her bed and sighed. Francis cared so much for his sister, and the stranger, who was Francis' dear friend and fellow Resistance fighter Jean, knew that if there was anything that he could do to help Estelle, he would do it. The question was what.

He and Francis had thought of everything to try and bring Estelle back, but everything that they had proposed and tried failed. Doctors had failed, medicines had failed, Francis' tearful pleas had failed. Nothing could even begin to bring her back from the throes of her own mind.

It seemed as if there was no hope, but Jean knew that if they gave up on hope then they gave up on Estelle herself. Hope was a precious thing that must be protected at all costs. They both knew that.

Jean thought about Francis a lot. Mostly wondering about his safety, where he was, what he was doing. He knew the general idea of his mission, but didn't know any specifics of any kind. He desperately hoped that he was alright. Safe. He hoped that Francis was getting the hospital reports that he was forwarding. He never did get any sort of reply. Maybe this next week there would be something. The other men were feeling the same way. Everyone loved Francis and wanted the best for him. Him being gone was strange, and people were ill at ease with it. Jean always got questions about any sort of news from Francis, and he always had to reply with a sorrowful "No".

Everyone longed for the day that Francis would come back, but they all knew that the day that France was free was the day that ultimately mattered in the end. Jean often wondered just how much blood would need to be spilt to earn this freedom.

Just how much blood, and whose it would be.

Thanks for reading, you wonderful people! Drop a review if you are so inclined! Until next time!

Harley