EPILOGUE:

Rose Light: 6 YEARS LATER

Many believe the light in New York was vibrant and filled with life, since no matter where they looked the world was beautiful, busy and in a constant rush. On the corner of two streets is a small shop, every morning at four, work begins. The smell of fresh bread with a Brittany Sage can be smelt through the streets, as the ovens come to life. The warmth of chocolate and color of raspberries fills the heart with joy as the customer draws nearer to its source. The shop it's self had a massive landscape window with a Burgundy red awning above it. Nestled bellow it were several small tables with silver chairs. It was a small shop that had done rather well for it's self since it had opened.

The inside was a warm gold with brick walls and large photos of Paris as well as Pastries. A fire place was in the corner with a mantel covered in photos of the restaurant's first opening. Images of chefs and apprentices both old and new smiling and laughing, glass awards of excellence on display as well as certificates. The smell of freshly brewed coffee danced in the air as the sweet scent of chocolate, cinnamon and berries tangled with it.

The soft glow from the fire and the large window made the environment even more inviting. Near the fire was a sofa with a small coffee table and wing-backs, toward the back were wooden tables with chairs, a bar was along one window was a bar with a row of stools. The other window was lined with glass cases, displaying fresh sweets, ready to be tasted. With waiters dressed in traditional black and white with black vests and red ties, they all looked as though they had walked off the set of a film. Each time someone entered they would smile warmly and greet the customer always offering their assistance when ever possible.

Pastries of every size, color and flavor were lined up in the cases in white fluted cups. Each with their own story, memory and even emotion behind them. The morning had flown by rapidly, the doors opened at seven; however it wasn't uncommon for people to ask for orders to be dropped by six. The kitchen was bustling as chefs worked with precision, only the best for the small Patissiere. The familiar appearance of strawberries, cream and puffed pastry stacked sat on a black tray lined with white parchment, ready to go into the case.

"Good morning chef," called a young man. A light voice replied happily, "Good Morning, easy on the cream, don't beat it too hard," the voice directed before slipping out of a midnight blue jumper and into a black chef's coat. "Yes chef," the young man replied with gusto. A smile curved slender lips as slender fingers slipped through silky raven black hair to tie it up. It had gotten longer over the years, in fact it hadn't been cut since the day he flew away so long ago. He slipped a cap over his head to keep his hair out of his eyes.

Out of the corner of his eye the chef noticed a white board sitting out with a hand written list proclaiming the specials, "Oi, Sophie, you forgot to put out the sign again!" called an irritated chef as he walked over to it and picked up the rather heavy sign. "Sorry, sir!" called the young woman over the roar of a mixer. "It's alright! I've got it!" he called across the room as he hoisted it under his arm and continued through the front. The room was filled with joyous chatter and laughter, they had just opened and he could see the waiters working every inch of the floor. "Morning," said a young woman with glee as the chef walked by, leaving the scent of lavender and vanilla behind him. The chef simply nodded before stepping out onto the street. A roadster rolled by making him smile, "Good morning Sebastian!" called the rider as he waved before coasting around the corner.

It had been a long time since he had seen his Roadster, sadly he had left it behind in London and never saw it again. When he had arrived in New York he was met by a very formal Charles Grey, an English lawyer and apparently criminal investigator as well, since he remembered him from the night of the bust, who specialized in real-estate and business. To his surprise someone who went by VP had purchased the space for him and given him far more than enough to open his own shop.

Naturally Sebastian did just so, however, no matter how much time passed he couldn't seem to get two things out of his mind. The first being he didn't know who owned the property, Gray hadn't told him, he simply said it didn't belong to Tanaka and left it at that. The second was that he had never heard from the hot tempered golden eyed Head Chef, Claude Faustus.

In a blink six years had passed and not once did he hear from the man. Sebastian sighed sadly, it was true he had left in the early hours of the morning and didn't tell him where he was, however there were far more than enough articles released about his restaurant to guide the chef to him.

"Perhaps, I really don't know a thing," he muttered as he placed the sign on the side walk and opened it. He sighed as he looked around the streets, roses hung out of boxes, the street was truly picturesque, and yet to him it was all so empty. The most important element wasn't with him. He closed his eyes for a moment and looked toward the corner, he always hoped to somehow see that familiar black jaguar turning around it. He hummed after a moment before returning to the kitchens.

He was living only part of his dream, what he really wanted was to spend life with the person he loved the most. Things just hadn't worked out that way. Sebastian slowly picked up a golden spoon and slip it into the cream which one of his apprentices was making. Oddly he had seen the spoon, fork and knife set in a shop it had a cat on the handle, rather than the glistening golden spider on Claude's but it was more than enough. Something that he could use to remember the man who fought for him silently, and loved him. The scarf he had taken with him had long since lost Claude's scent and warmth; it soon became just another scarf. Yet every day he wore it, a reminder of the man he loved, the man who never went after him.

He slipped the spoon between his lips and shook his head as he clicked his tongue, "Too heavy, when you make it, whip air into it so the cream becomes light," he advised. The young chef looked slightly confused, a pair of wide green eyes looked at him and he sighed, again he must have seemed like a god in the young man's eyes. He was about to explain when one of the waiters entered the kitchen. "Chef, there is a man asking a question about a cheese cake," the waiters said nervously. Sebastian rolled his eyes and groaned, he hated dealing with Americans who assumed every cheese cake was made using cream cheese. "Do you want me to take care of it? He's claiming to know the owner," he stammered.

Sebastian's eyebrows lifted quizzically, he didn't make many appearances on the floor. William and Ronald had found him, but only by sheer coincidence and the pair promised not to tell a soul. William had acquired a shop not far from his place and worked as a Wine and Spirit Dealer as well as Sommelier, Ronald assisted him. The pair had left Noir after Sebastian had left. "I'm rather busy," he said slowly as he slipped the spoon on the counter. The waiter trailed after him and replied, "I know but he wanted to know if you made the roses and if the cheese cake used amaretto." The waiter was on Sebastian's heels, the Patissier sighed, "It does," he replied as he turned his attention to the cake he had been icing before.

"He also asked if there was still a drop of magic left, he wanted a taste before he left," said the Waiter in confusion. Sebastian paused and dropped the pastry bag he had been working with; chocolate icing fell from the bag and all over his fingers. "What did he say?" he asked quickly, his eyes were wide with curiosity and shock. "He said that the amaretto wasn't too bad last few times, but to not make it as strong as the first," replied the waiter. Sebastian sighed and washed his hands quickly. Part of him wondered who waited on the other side of the door. His heart was pounding, there had only been one person who had made such a remark and he hadn't seen him in years.

He pushed open the two wooden doors and paused, sitting near the window perched on a chair with a menu propped open and close to his face, the difficult customer. "You wished to speak to the owner?" he asked slowly, Tanaka had never told him who the owner was and he now regretted it. "Yes, I had a question, I was wondering if this shop carried cheese cake," he said swiftly.

Sebastian smiled a little and replied, "Yes, however it's not your typical cheese cake," he replied and looked at the customer skeptically. His eyes fell on the man's large hands that really looked like Claude's, the chef shook his head at the preposterous thought. If Claude hadn't come by now he wasn't going to. Resting on the table was an all too familiar volume, an old entry level Pastry textbook, it was identical to the ones used at Le Cordon Bleu, and he shook his head and hummed. "Ricotta, cherries with a touch of amaretto, hopefully it's not too powerful this time," said a teasing voice.

Sebastian's eyes widened as he listened to the words leaving the stranger's lips. The lush and velvety voice tickled his ears causing the chef to slowly place his fingers on the edge of the menu and gently tip it down. Twinkling back at him was a pair of golden eyes, a warm smile curved his lips and he looked far more relaxed than before. His face was framed with black hair that had taken on a violet hue, his skin was lightly tanned and yet he still looked a little tired. With a square jaw and powerful shoulders was the one thing that seemed to complete the puzzle. "Yes, we have it," Sebastian replied with a wide smile. Claude placed the menu on the table and hummed, "Good, I would like a slice, with a black coffee," the man stated with ease. Sebastian nodded slowly, he had a difficult time processing that Claude was sitting before him. Before he could think twice his arms were around Claude's shoulders, the Patissier gave him a squeeze and whispered, "What took you so long?"

Claude returned the hug and replied, "Traffic, and I had to find you." There was a pause when Sebastian realized Claude didn't smell like cologne or perfume, he smelt of rosemary and thyme. His eyes searched his fingers for the rings that should have been there, placed by a very determined woman, they were absent. "All this time?" he asked slowly, "You've been looking for me?" Claude nodded and hummed as he looked at Sebastian with a grin. "Always," he said firmly and his eyes glided to the book sitting on the table. It had now become the one book Sebastian couldn't live without. His all time favorite.

Their eyes glided to the beautiful golden letters on the window, warmth was the one thing the script gave it and Sebastian smiled. It was time to amend the name of the shop, "Le Corbeau et l' Araignée," Sebastian said warmly. Claude chuckled and replied, "What else would we call a shop owned by a Raven and a Spider?"