AN: Thank you so much for the reviews... Only a little bit more drama... Kricket

The front desk clerk, whom Penelope learned was Henri, directed her to the nearest club in walking distance. It was only three city blocks away. She started walking down Avenue de Friedland towards Rue Beaujon, as Henri recommended.

The streets were darker than she was used to; there were many narrow alleyways jutting off of the avenue. She immediately thought of someone jumping out at her with a knife, and jumped herself when a man with a cigarette came out of a doorway. Immediately she thought of how safe she felt walking with Derek in Rome on similar streets. She never had to worry about a thing; she'd known he'd take care of her.

No chance of that now.

She held her little, useless decorative purse close to her and hurried along to the happening Discotheque on the corner.

There was a very long line to get in; she started waiting patiently, her feet beginning to ache. The music wafting outside along with the cigarette smoke was loud and pulsing. The outside of the building looked old but well kept, like their hotel. She wondered what the inside was like.

She waited forever, the line getting increasingly longer. After a half hour of standing there, she yawned and stretched. Standing there waiting forced her to think. She didn't like arguing with Derek. When she looked at him, he seemed to miss being with her. She missed being with him, too. The best parts of this trip were the times they'd spent alone together.

There were so many times in England she'd thought about what something more would feel like with Derek. She wondered if he'd wondered about that, too. That seemed almost impossible to her; she'd always wanted Derek, could he want her back?

Her head, along with her feet, was starting to hurt from thinking, and she was sick of waiting. Now was not the time to fix anything between them. She needed a good night sleep, and work on it in the morning. She decided to call it quits and head back to the hotel.

She turned and left the line, immediately losing her spot to the crowd surging forward. As she started walking along, she saw him, then, waiting in line, too. He was talking to a thin, gorgeous redhead with a cigarette, and two non-smoking blondes. They were all laughing at what Morgan was saying, tossing their hair and touching him in coy invitation. Amazingly, he already had a beer in his hand. He couldn't speak a word of the language, but he was having a damned good time waiting, enjoying a beer with some women.

She really didn't want him to see her. Immediately, she hid behind a couple walking in front of her, moving as close as she could to them while they passed Derek and his bevy of beauties.

Making it back to the hotel, she ordered room service, a large bottle of French champagne, and a cheese sandwich, then went to her room. She'd slid off her clothes, reached for a thin, white Italian silk nightgown she had bought in Rome, when she heard the door. Thinking that it was room service, she slid the nightgown on, reached for her purse and went into the shared lounge.

Surprisingly, it was Derek. "What are you doing back so soon?" she questioned, her lips puckered in a frown.

"I should ask you the same thing," he replied, arching his eyebrow at her.

"I didn't want to wait in line," she replied.

"Me, neither," he answered.

The way he said it, she didn't believe him. "Derek," she began, "did you follow me?"

"You got me," he answered. "Yes, I did."

Her heart pounded a little faster, and she asked the question she most needed to know, "Why?"

"It's dark; this is a big, dangerous city," he answered. "I didn't want you to get hurt."

"Is that all?" she asked, feeling ridiculously hopeful. There was something about this night, the arguing, the thinking that she'd done in line, the realization of how much she'd missed him, that brought out the hopeless romantic in her.

"No," he said. "I feel responsible for you leaving, since you wanted to get away from me."

Her heart sank just a little bit. Yet again, she was just his responsibility. "Well, I shouldn't have said that. I apologize. I'm fine, really, and I don't need your bodyguard services, Derek."

"I just want you to know… I'm sorry, too, Penelope," he replied quietly, his voice barely a breath. He looked earnest and really sad. "I don't feel responsible for you; I like to protect you. I would be there for you always. Whenever you need me; I'll be there."

She didn't have time to answer. There was a quick rap on the door. She opened the door, spoke in French to the bellboy with the tray, then paid him. When she turned with her champagne and cheese sandwich, he was gone.

Penelope woke the next day with a slight headache. She didn't even drink the champagne that she'd ordered, that was the worst part as far as she was concerned. She didn't really feel like champagne. This headache was caused because she simply over thought. With the arguing, crying, and the strange remark Morgan made before he'd gone to bed, she couldn't help but think.

She needed to see him and talk to him again. Today was a fresh day, they were away from Cosimo and Luca, in a fantastic new country, and she was ready to see it with him. She was going to apologize and let bygones be bygones.

After dressing quickly, she walked out into the adjoining room and knocked on Morgan's door. No answer. She opened the door; his bed was slept in, but he was no where to be seen. Pen thought maybe he ran downstairs for something.

Sitting at the table with a map of Paris, she plotted their destinations for awhile. Thirty minutes later, he still hadn't returned. She went into her bathroom, fixed her hair and refreshed her makeup, packed her purse with essentials, and put on serviceable shoes. It was now forty-five minutes later, and Derek was no where to be seen.

Whenever you need me; I'll be there.

She snorted. He wasn't even there the next morning, much less being there for her when she needed him.

She grabbed her room key and left.

Penelope took a quick moment to stop for a croissant, before hopping on the subway system to the Musée du Louvre. She had wanted to see the Louvre for her entire life. She loved paintings, sculptures, art in general. She couldn't wait to see the Mona Lisa, to see her smile in person.

After spending almost the entire day looking at various artworks, some famous, like the Venus de Milo, some not, she finally made it to the Mona Lisa. There was a barricade around it, along with some guards. She was surprised; it was not as big as she thought it would be. It was only about two feet tall, and a little less wide. She thought it would be this massive painting, but it wasn't. However, standing near it, seeing the look in her famous eyes, the infamous smile on her lips made it worthwhile.

Penelope spent some time in the gift shop, before heading out to wander in the beautiful Tulieries Gardens. There were some fragrant roses; she stopped to smell one and was immediately transported back to her thoughts of Derek and her time in the English Garden. She pictured him, kneeling romantically, his eyes teasing but warm. Although this garden was spectacular and lovely, there was no comparison to the one in London, simply because there was no one to share it with.

She tried to shake herself out of that thought, and found a cafe, where she had a cup of strong French roast coffee and a croque monsieur. Rather than sitting there by herself, she got up and left, even though she was still hungry. There were a lot of couples sitting nearby her, holding hands, talking, kissing. It made her blue, and she didn't want to feel that way.

Pulling out her map, she saw that the Musée d'Orsay was nearby. Although she wasn't sure she wanted to see a bunch of art again, she headed out to keep busy. Unfortunately once she arrived, she was too busy thinking of how wrong things went to truly enjoy the works of Monet and Cezanne. She felt remarkably guilty; those artists deserved her full attention!

She thought about stopping at Jim Morrison's grave. The man was sexy and gorgeous in his day; that would probably perk her up. Dead now, but sexy back then, at least! Instead, she headed back to the hotel, her feet sore and her head aching a little bit.

When she opened the door, she saw Derek sitting at the little table reading something. He lowered the paper and scowled at her. "Where the hell have you been?"

She scowled back, her ire ignited. How dare he! "Where the hell were you this morning?"

"Jogging! I told you that!"

Her lips tightened. "You did not!"

He narrowed his eyes. "I left a note saying I'd be back in about an hour. The usual time it takes me to run. Fitness doesn't get a vacation!"

"You did not!" she repeated.

He scowled again, but this time it was in confusion. "Yes, I did. It was on the table."

"There was no note, Derek."

Immediately, they both started looking on the floor, looking all around for the note. Penelope found it, wedged under a table leg. It obviously blew off the table top and floated to that inconspicuous spot.

She started reading Derek's bold scrawl:

Baby Girl,

I don't know what happened to make us snap at each other this much. Traveling sometimes does that to people, but I never thought it would happen to us. All I know is I'm sorry for my part of it. I want to enjoy Paris, but even more, I want to enjoy being with you. We could be in damned Antarctica, and I'd still enjoy it if I were with you. I love you and I miss you. Let's start over when I get back from my run. D

Penelope couldn't help the tears rolling down her face. She sat there, under the table, holding the note. Derek sat down right next to her, and reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. He didn't say a word, he just remained there, an undeniable presence that warmed her heart. She squeezed his hand back.

"Yes, Derek. Let's start over tomorrow, okay?"

His stomach growled loudly. He grinned at her and said, "Can we start over tonight? I'm starving, and I can barely order a pop here. My French, even with the book, sucks shit."

She burst out laughing. "Oh, sure, Morgan. That's what you miss about me: My ability to keep you fed."

He leaned over and kissed her forehead. "It is a good asset to have, baby."

She giggled. "Come on. I have champagne. I will order us food, and we can eat in here tonight."

"Sounds great," he said, starting to crawl out from under the table. "I even found a deck of cards at the corner store. I'll kick your ass in Crazy Eights."

She smiled, slapping his butt as he crawled out in front of her. "Yeah, you wish."

And for the rest of the night, they ate baguette sandwiches, fruit and brie, and drank champagne, while playing the best rounds of cards they'd ever had the chance to play, just enjoying being together.