John woke slowly, the early morning light filtering through the attic window making the dust motes light up and dance in the air over his head. He sighed, rubbed his eyes, and rolled his shoulders. He had slept well and dreamlessly. He couldn't remember the last time that had happened. Ever since he could remember he had slept poorly, suffered nightmares, and awoken tense. Life with these strangers was turning out to be far different than life with his father had been. It had been two days since they had arrived here in the mountains of France. So far, nothing had happened. That had surprised him after Flynn's attempted murder only a few nights ago. No one had beaten him, berated him, or forced him to witness anything unspeakable. All they had done to him was ask his help to unload the time machine contraption of the provisions and hide the large machine.

Two days ago when John awoke inside the machine and Lucy, now Cousin Lucy, had explained to him what was happening a part of him had believed them. However seeing Mr. Bruhl, Uncle Anthony as he was supposed to call him, make the machine disappear into thin air that was something else entirely. Then there were the supplies. Some things were common place, such as additional clothes and money. But other things were truly amazing. Slates that magically displayed words upon them instead of needing chalk with which to write, medicine that supposedly cured a myriad of diseases, and music that came out of tiny little boxes. John shook his head again in wonder.

He stretched and arose, swiftly making up his bed and slipping into his clothes. After everything had been transported and stowed that first full day, the adults had told him that the next day was for rest. And that was exactly what they all did; nothing but eat, sleep, and clean themselves up. Once he had stopped being frightened John had taken a good look at the three adults. They were all tired, haggard, and drawn. John had not had time like that in longer than he could remember. B.L., Before Lucy, as he had started to refer to it in his own mind, his father had ruled every moment of every day. John had done little without permission or fear of swift reprisal. But yesterday had been like a dream. He had even sat outside in the sun for a few hours just studying the natural world around him, something his father had never allowed him to do saying it was daydreaming and a waste of time. John felt almost relaxed, a very foreign feeling in his young life.

B.L., John felt he had no family. Mother had died in childbirth with him. Father was… well, a tyrant. It was true that he had older sisters but they were kept cloistered away waiting for the day their father married them off to advantage. So John was always alone in the crowd of sycophants, underlings, and ruffians that constantly surrounded his father. Now he had three adults, who had gone to great length to take him out of his old life and were committing almost a year out of their lives to make his own a better one. John was beginning to look at the true meaning of family.

Bending, he fastened his shoes. He smiled to himself as he descended the stairs to the kitchen. Now his future was bright. Cousin Lucy had explained to him that shortly he would be apprenticed to the local clockmaker. At least once he learned enough French to be conversant and the current apprentice moved on in the spring. He was blessed to have this second chance at a life of his own and if learning French and living with these strangers was the price he had to pay, he was happy to pay it. Lucy had given him everything his heart had desired, a future with freedom. He had only known her a few days but already he would do anything for her.

xxxxx

Anthony brought the two stools out of the house and into the yard as Lucy had requested. It was Laundry Day and since the weather was still fine the help was doing it out there in the barnyard. They had been in France now for a number of weeks and their routines were established. Every morning after breakfast Flynn and John left for the local school: Flynn to teach and John to learn. Both were eager to get out of the house and start their day. John was hungry to learn anything and everything. Being around boys his own age was helping John deal with the rapid change in circumstances. John was starting to act like a real boy, not his father's puppet. Anthony suspected that Flynn, however, was eager to be away from Lucy and all that she represented. He could tell that Flynn was already struggling with the close quarters, the down time, and playing family. Anthony had been fighting Rittenhouse almost as long as Flynn and while Anthony was enjoying every moment of this time out of "the game" he knew that Flynn couldn't stop thinking, stop planning, on how to further damage Rittenhouse.

Anthony saw the helper woman look up as he approached. Madame Hennion smiled at him and Anthony felt like a prize goose being sized up. He looked down to avoid her gaze. Lucy straightened and cleaned and a local widow came three days a week to help with the heavier work. When making her initial plans Lucy had even thought to hire someone to help her as she had no idea of how to run or care for a house and family in this time period. There were no washing machines, microwaves, or vacuum cleaners. Lucy had explained away her ignorance of the womanly arts by introducing Anthony as the eccentric traveling professeur uncle, her only family, who had taught her book learning but no practical skills.

In keeping with his eccentric persona Anthony had taken to speaking little when the help was around, and then only in languages she wouldn't understand, like Pig Latin - that had gotten a laugh out of Lucy. He also took long walks in the woods. The walks were necessary: he checked on the Mothership daily. They also kept him out from underfoot. Apparently Madame Hennion had raised a large brood of children and she was not adverse to putting idle hands to work, even if they belonged to her employer. Besides, over the last weeks, her looks had lasted longer and had become more appraising. Anthony was already happily married, even if his wife thought him dead. He had no desire to entangle himself with anyone, ever, certainly not a widow with many children. Setting the stools down in the shade, Anthony smiled at Lucy and gave her a quick peck on the cheek - he was her uncle after all, he departed quickly for the shade and tranquility of the woods before he was asked to start hauling wood for the fire. He was growing quite fond of Lucy but that didn't mean he wanted to hang around when Madame Hennion was there.

xxxxx

Madam Hennion didn't miss much. After raising her brood of six boys and three girls she had seen it all and knew when people were lying. Especially young people. While she wasn't yet a crone Madame Hennion was a good twenty years older than her employers, Monsieur and Madame Flynn, and that made them children in her mind. She liked them well enough: they were good people, treated her well, and didn't complain if her old bones kept her from getting to their isolated farmhouse exactly when she was supposed to. But there was something off about them. She pondered that for a moment as she dumped the load of wet clothes out of the wash tub and into the pot of boiling water she had set up in the yard. The weather had been nice since the new family had arrived here in their town so this is where she did their laundry, at least until the snow started to fly.

She heaved the last white shirt into the pot and stood for a moment resting, leaning against the stirring stick. New families weren't unheard of in their mountainous town. Geneve was, after all, becoming a bustling town full of commerce and education. Many of her generation were proud over what their town was growing into. She supposed that was what brought them here. Monsieur Flynn was a teacher of sorts. He didn't exactly fit the teacher mold she was accustomed to, thin, bookish, and quiet. Monsieur Flynn was tall, commanding, and intense. But she had noted a keen intelligence in his eyes and he had a presence that kept the boys at l'ecole cowed, in their books, and out of trouble.

Her mistress came around the corner with a pitcher of water and glasses, her uncle with two stools. The older man set them down, smiled slightly at her, said a few words in English to the mistress and wandered off. She watched his retreating back. She supposed he would go walk the woods as he had been doing almost every day since she had started working for them. He kept to himself and kept himself out of her way. He was polite, but although Mdme and Msr had informed her that he had been a professeur in the colonies, the man spoke no French, and he had taught his niece nothing useful. That was the very reason that she had been hired on. Mdm Flynn had grown up an orphan in her uncle's care. The poor child had never had a mother's care nor a woman's instruction. Msr. Bruhl had traveled from place to place teaching. His niece learned at his knee and from everything she had overheard Madame Flynn could have been an excellent professeur herself if she had been born a man. As it was, Madame didn't even know how to light a fire.

Madame Hennion looked on as her mistress poured them both a glass of water. Mdm Flynn was a slight woman, very pretty and well kept for her age. Most women approaching their mid-thirties were starting to show wear from the constant work of housekeeping and motherhood. But mdme had never kept house and she had no children. Madame Hennion shrugged to herself and took the proffered water. If nothing else, her mistress was kind, very eager to learn, and spoke excellent French.

"Would you like more water?" asked Lucy breaking into her thoughts.

Madam Hennion set her glass down and went back to stir the pot of laundry. "No madame, it's best I get this finished up so I can show you how to prepare tonight's dinner."

"I could help you with that. It looks hot and tiring."

"No madame, your husband was very clear about this. Why don't you work on the knitting? Your men will need scarves for the winter. The snow will come soon and be deep."

Already Mdme had learned to bake bread and keep the fires going. Madame Hennion was also in the process of teaching her to knit. She had figured that by Spring she may have taught herself out of a job except for the fact that Msr Flynn had insisted that her mistress do as little cleaning and laundry as possible. He had said it was because he liked his wife's hands soft and unscarred, kissing her hand in a rare show of affection. Madame Hennion supposed it was really because the mistress was delicate and, despite her age, they were hoping to start a family. Either way, she didn't care. But there was still something not quite right about them all. Madame Hennion glanced at Lucy, her gut told her that these two needed prodding otherwise their fledgling marriage wouldn't live to see adulthood. Some prodding was in order.

xxxxx

Lucy huffed in exasperation and went back to the house for her work basket. When she returned and had picked up the knitting Madame Hennion continued chatting, "You should feel lucky, your husband wants you to stay pretty. I've heard it said in town that he looks neither right, nor left, when he goes to and from the school. And I know that some of the women in town have been trying to catch his eye. He is a very handsome man. He must love you very much…" she trailed off seeing if Lucy would respond.

Lucy blushed and bent her head over her knitting. For the last week Madame Hennion had been gently probing about her relationship with Garcia. Hmph, what relationship? We barely speak and when he kissed my hand after telling Madame Hennion about the laundry it was the only time he's deliberately touched me since we were here the first time. The only reason we concocted that bit of the story was that I won't be able to hide work roughened hands when we get back to the present. Finally she responded, "He is handsome, yes, and I suppose so."

Madame Hennion shrugged, "He must, since you've been here almost three months and he hasn't taken a mistress. Even in out of the way Geneve married folk find lovers just like in Paris. But perhaps you give him no reason to seek love elsewhere." she added suggestively. As Lucy's blush deepened Madame Hennion chuckled, "It's not that way with every man. My own Henri never strayed, but I made sure to keep him very… satisfied, as your husband must be!"

Lucy said nothing in response hoping that Madame Hennion would stop the train of the conversation. As if I would be interested in Garcia, I mean, he is very handsome, but after everything he would never, could never consider anyone other than Lorena. And I'm too busy trying to save the world. But the thought of being intimate with Garcia wouldn't leave her, it sat in the back of her mind no matter how she tried to banish the thought. Madame Hennion went on, oblivious to Lucy's inattention, "Of course, all that love kept me busy with our many children." She glanced at Lucy's slim figure, "I am sure that you'll have one before too long."

Lucy smiled enigmatically as she thought about their sleeping arrangements. Since Lucy needed the help and guidance with the housework they all knew that they would need to keep the pretense of marriage and family even inside the house. Lucy and Garcia shared the large master bedroom while Anthony took the second floor room and John took the tiny attic. Of course, once the bedroom door was locked Garcia took the floor in front of the fire making up a bed with the extra pillow and blankets.

"You can have the bed, or we can switch off." she said, trying to be pleasant.

Garcia glared at her, "I'll take the floor."

She shrugged, "OK," and she stepped behind the screen to change. When she had come out Garcia was already laying on the floor, ostensibly asleep, eyes closed, head pillowed on his arms. After the look he had given her she hadn't brought it up again.

Madame Hennion spoke again bringing Lucy back to the present. "Of course, your man seems to be the quiet sort, not one for showy affection." she added, fishing for a comment as she fished the shirts out of the steaming water, one by one.

"No, he is rather reserved." Lucy said stabbing at the stitch on the needle. She thought of the long silences between them every night since their arrival. Garcia was talkative enough when they all sat by the fire but once they retired to their bedroom his face became blank, his eyes shuttered, and he answered only in single syllables.

Madame Hennion smiled as she pulled out the last shirt, "Well, you know what they say… still waters run deep."

Over the course of the weeks Lucy and Garcia had come to a routine of sorts. They'd retire together, Garcia locking the door behind him. They spoke little, some nights not at all. Lucy would change behind the screen and then brush out her hair at the dressing table. Garcia would sit by the fire brooding until he was ready to sleep. Lucy had noted that Garcia usually just took off his neck cloth, untucked his shirt and slept in his breeches. His gun never left his side even in the locked bedroom. It seemed that he was always ready to leap up even though they all knew that they were safe. Lucy didn't know if he slept with it out of habit or if he thought he'd need it out in the middle of nowhere. It seemed that he was always ready to leap up even though they all knew they were safe. At l Lucy could hear him toss and turn in the night, some nights he slept badly and wake with a start. Always in the morning he was awake and gone from the room before she arose.

Lucy just smiled in response as she put her knitting down and moved to help hang the shirts on the line. Madame allowed her help with that. Pinning shirts wouldn't roughen Lucy's pretty hands. Now that Madame Hennion's mouth was full of pins the questions and prodding stopped for which Lucy was grateful. Lucy was a pro at evading questions after her months of time travel but the constant prodding and the close quarters she share with Garcia were beginning to take their toll. Sometimes she actually forgot what she was doing here, trying to cut down Rittenhouse before they took hold of the world. Sometimes she awoke happy, forgetting that this life was the fantasy not the reality, and those moments were becoming more and more frequent.

xxxx

That afternoon Madame Hennion slowly walked home hoping to run into Monsieur Flynn on the road. She saw him approach with the boy, the mistress's young cousin, and she stopped to wait.

Flynn called out as they approached, "Good afternoon Madame Hennion, how was your day?" he asked as he stopped in front of her and gave her a little bow. He could be charming when it was necessary and with her it was. From the first day of her employment Garcia Flynn had sized her up and realized that not only was she a force to be reckoned with, she was also as sharp as a tack.

"Just fine, sir. Your wife is a very apt pupil and your dinner tonight should be very good." she smiled at him. "But I would like to speak to you about something if you have a moment." Flynn saw her glance at John.

Flynn turned to John, "I'll see you back at the house."

John looked at the both of them as if trying to divine what the issue was. They met his curious gaze with blank stares. Giving up he shrugged and walked on leaving the two of them alone on the forest road.

He turned to look at Madame Hennion expectantly.

"Would you take some advice from an old woman who has been married a long time?" she asked.

"You're hardly ancient, Mdm." Where is this going?

She smiled and winked at him, "You're very kind… I'll just come out with it. I know men don't like to beat around the bush."

Flynn graced her with a winning smile, "For you, I have all day. What is the problem?" Had something happened at the house? In town? Did someone suspect them? Had Rittenhouse somehow found them? He tamped down on his rising anxiety.

"You really should show affection towards your wife, otherwise she'll be snapped up by someone in town. I see the way she is looked at when we go to market together. I know," she said, "you are busy with your teaching at the school. But you really do spend too much time there and the other men notice how often your wife is alone."

Flynn's relief turned to annoyance, "Well it's my job." he said curtly.

He saw Madame Hennion's eyes narrow and look at him as if he were one of her children. "It is not your job to work all the hours that God gave you. It is your job to be a good husband to your wife and give her many children. But as I can see you haven't even been doing that from the way she blushes when I ask."

Flynn felt poleaxed, he had forgotten how much women would talk, "You've asked her if we, if I…" he trailed off, not sure what to say next.

She looked up at him with pity, "My dear boy, women talk about such matters even if men do not. I'm just trying to tell you that if you don't look after your wife some other man will try and weasel his way in. Already the fishmonger has tried to give her more fish than she has ordered… all under the pretense of being friendly to the new family. I wouldn't let her take it. He's got a wandering eye and two wandering hands. But I can tell you, monsieur, he won't be the last until you make it plain that your pretty wife is very much yours."

Flynn's face clouded over with embarrassment, anger, and something undefinable. "Thank you madame for your advice, I'd best be heading home." he said abruptly and left her standing in the road. He knew he had been rude but he needed to think.

As Flynn continued his way home he realized that the woman was correct. He had been too used to living in his own time. Despite all his time travel he had never stayed anywhere long enough to worry about the customs of the time. He needed to show some affection to Lucy at least while the helper woman was around. He also needed to come home immediately after school so that the townsfolk would stop gossiping about how Lucy was alone so much. He should have known that as the newest people to Geneve that they would be discussed.

Walking through the forest was peaceful and he took his time so he could work out his thoughts. He knew he had been deliberately staying away from Lucy since their arrival here. Teaching at the school was a convenient excuse. It wasn't as if Lucy should mind him being scarce. He knew that, despite his reasons, after everything he had done Lucy would never look at him with any regard. Why would you want her to? It's not as if you already care about her. She's just the means to stop Rittenhouse. Flynn tried to convince himself his thoughts were truth and yet he knew better. He couldn't help watch her whenever they were together. It was torturous sleeping in the same room together, watching her brush out her hair, hearing her sigh in her sleep, or moan if her dreams were bad. It took everything he had some nights not to move her hair aside kiss the back of her neck while she sat at the dressing table or go to her and comfort her when he heard her cry out. She's not Lorena, you have to stop this. Lucy doesn't deserve this after everything she's been through. They were so alike and yet so different. He couldn't help but be attracted to her.

As Flynn approached the small farmhouse he could smell something delicious wafting out the open window. Lucy's cooking skills had improved under the tutelage of Madame Hennion even if she were a nosy old hen. Trying to set his thoughts aside he opened the door and walked in, not realizing how grim his face looked.

John looked up, his own face growing pale, "What's wrong? Have they found us?"

At that Flynn came back to the present and smiled at the boy.

"No," he said. "No one is after us. Madame just has some concerns about the state of our marriage." He directed the last to Lucy across the table.

Anthony looked up from what he was working on at the window and said, "Well, it's not as if you to act like you're married. You barely speak to each other when anyone else is around."

Lucy went back to finishing the dinner preparations. As she brought the pot of stew to the table and set it down she said, "I suppose we could start acting a little bit more affectionate when Madame Haniel is around."

Flynn glanced at her. "It's not just that, although that would help. There's been talk in town that I spend too much time at the school and not enough time tending to my wife. Apparently the men in town have noticed and a few of them have been sniffing around." he said, glaring at her.

"It's not like I encourage it." she responded tartly. Lucy thunked the pot down on the table. He could tell he had annoyed her. He felt his own annoyance growing. How does she do this to me? he thought, trying to reign his feelings back in.

"I never said you did. I know you wouldn't jeopardize our mission with idle flirtation. But apparently because I am not seen making that much of an effort over my wife they assume we are not besotted with each other and therefore you are fair game as a mistress." his accent thickened as his annoyance grew. I'd kill the first man who touched her, the thought flashed unbidden, startling him in its intensity. They stared at each other, the tension between them palpable.

"Well, you could always start bringing her flowers." John said, as he distributed the bowls and plates. The adults looked at him in surprise. "What? Just because I was never taught about the fairer sex doesn't mean I'm completely devoid of rational thought. Women like flowers." He said as he finished setting the table.

The three adults chuckled, the tension broken, and they sat to eat. After dinner was finished and they all cleaned up - something that was new to John, doing housework, they usually sat by the fireplace in the evenings attending to their chosen tasks. Lucy, Anthony, and John all worked on the mending while Flynn usually cleaned one of his many guns and was in the process of teaching them Croatian.

"I have to do housework, learn French AND Croatian," John complained early on.

Lucy smiled as she worked on mending a rent in Garcia's shirt, "Someday you'll have to take care of yourself and not depend on someone else to sew your buttons back on."

"And we need a language to communicate in that no one here is likely to understand," added Flynn as he reassembled the gun before him.

But that was weeks ago and they all had fallen into routine. The mending pile was always small thanks to many hands and they were all progressing in Croatian.

xxxxx

"I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier," Garcia said quietly as he shut and locked their bedroom door.

Lucy turned to look at him, surprised that he was speaking to her. "It's fine, I know that this has got to be stressful for you. It's not easy on any of us."

He gave her a small smile and sat to remove his boots.

"You know, we really could switch off on the bed. The floor doesn't look all that comfortable." she said, trying to be pleasant.

Garcia merely looked at her with a flat, slightly disgusted look, and picked up the book he had been working on this week. "You realize we'll have to up our game," he said going back to their earlier conversation.

Lucy sighed and went to work the pins out of her hair. Sitting down at the dressing table she worked her hands through her hair. "I know, and I'm sorry, but we both know how important this is," she said. Garcia turned to stare into the empty fireplace.

"John's suggestion was a good one," Lucy added as she shook out her hair and picked up her brush.

"As if I need the help." She heard him snort, "I do remember how this is done."

After a long pause he added, "He is a good kid. I'm glad you stopped me."

Lucy turned and found him looking at her, "I am too. For his sake, and for your's."

xxxxx

The next morning Flynn loitered over his coffee waiting for Madame Hennion to appear. As the door opened and she walked in, he stood, finished the last gulp and set the cup down complimenting Lucy on how she had improved. Steeling himself he bent down and kissed Lucy's cheek as he walked towards the door.

"John, time to go. Was there anything you needed from town wife?" he turned and asked Lucy.

Lucy, surprised by both the kiss and his question, stammered, "No, no, there's nothing. Have a good day… husband."

With a nod to a smiling Madame Hennion Flynn and John walked out the door.

Anthony stood also and gathered up his reading to head out for the day. He smiled to himself as he headed across the yard and into the woods. While he knew Flynn's feelings he hadn't been sure of where Lucy stood. But her blush and flustered words spoke volumes. He had thought Lucy's plan to spend time in France had been a good one. Now he thought it was a great one.