Author's note: I am, as always, grateful for your support and reviews. I hope this still appeals to your canon sensibilities. If it doesn't, please tell me!

Clarisse," he admonished softly, not fully prepared to let this escalate into a fiery row, "Clarisse that was incredibly irresponsible."

"I left a note," she said haughtily, setting her handbag on the sideboard and primping her hair in the mirror above it, "I ate a ridiculous thing called a corn dog and then had a gallon, a gallon, of Pepsi. I also arm wrestled a humiliating machine."

"What do you think you are, a teenager?"

He tried not to laugh at her determinedly blank face.

"No, I'm the Queen."

"And I am your Head of Security and the stunt you pulled today," he sat down on the couch, "Was irresponsible."

"What matter if I kick up my heels once in a while?"

He laughed despite himself, "Oh, just a matter of national security."

She slid her jacket off and, coming towards him, laid it over the arm of the couch. He'd asked to see her, away from Amelia, in the privacy of the family room. He had harboured every intention of scolding her but that had melted away very quickly when he realised how happy she was.

"Such seriousness," she stood in front of him and turned slowly, "Check me over. Am I all in one piece?"

"Fortunately so," he stalled her, clutching her hand, "Sit down. You are making me dizzy."

"You didn't check properly," she accused.

"No," he laughed, "I didn't. You have to know that it was totally ridiculous. You do know that?"

She looked genuinely chastened for a moment, "Are you really angry at me?"

He hated that he had to be honest, "No, I'm not angry. I was when I read your note but the smile on your face put my anger to bed quickly. I did worry though. You can't just give me the slip."

She laughed and patted his knee, "Dear Joseph, just be glad I have the wherewithal to want to do it again."

He reached out to push her hair gently behind her ears.

"I think that's why I am willing to let this go," he derived intense pleasure from her smile, "What did you do, apart from eat terrible food?"

"Went to the arcade," she smiled, "The pier too. Joseph, she is so like Phillippe. She's less confident but she looks so like him. So like him."

"Was it good to see?"

"It was…it was perfect," she shrugged, "She's perfect. I wish Pierre could meet her and Anna too."

"They will," he promised, "Everything in good time."

"You must be a real acolyte of that school of thought."

"Patience is a virtue, right? One I've had to learn over many, many years."

"I have schooled you well," she laughed dryly, "Have I not?"

"Incredibly well," he smiled, "I am glad you enjoyed it so much. Don't do it again."

"You have my word," she held up her hand, "And my word is, as they say, my bond."

He leaned in and kissed her temple, "I better go and take her home then?"

She nodded, "Yes, please."

"Alright."

He found the young princess in her grandmother's office, sitting primly in the chair, as if she was the one at fault. She was scanning the photos on Clarisse's desk though, her eyes flitting over and over the faces of her father, her uncle and her aunt.

"Miss Mia," he inclined his head, "Shall we get you home, before your mother begins to worry?"

"Are you angry? You looked angry."

"No," he said softly, "I'm not."

"It's funny, today she mentioned my uncle and my father but not Anna," Amelia looked up at him curiously, "Why not?"

He swallowed, "Anna just abdicated. Her Majesty's still coming to terms with it."

Mia shrugged, "It was as if she never thought she'd be queen ever. She didn't even mention her."

He nodded his understanding, hoping it didn't convey agreement, and motioned for her to move. He held open the door of the limo for her and allowed her slide in the front seat, as she'd been doing since the day he'd spirited her away for breakfast and tried to get her to understand her somewhat enigmatic grandmother a little better.

"Do you know her well?"

"Yes, of course I do. I've worked with her since your father and uncle were children."

Mia laughed a little, "Not my grandmother. It's obvious you know my grandmother. I mean Princess-"

"It's Lady Anna, Miss Mia, if you'll forgive me. She doesn't carry the title of Princess anymore, since she abdicated."

Right," Mia said timidly, watching as he pulled out of the consulate gates, "Sorry, I'll get it eventually."

"Sorry Miss Mia, I didn't mean to sound stern. I just imagine you'd need to know these things as soon as possible."

"It's alright," she smiled, "I just wondered."

"I wasn't there when Anna was born. I was in Spain but yes, I'm very close to her. Your grandmother was much older when she had her. In fact, she's only five years older than you."

Amelia nodded, "I figured that, from what I read on the internet."

He shook his head, "An infernal system for gossip, hearsay and cruelty."

"But much less bias than Clarisse Renaldi."

He laughed, "I'll grant you that. Any questions you ask me, not Google."

"When do I get to meet them?"

He understood her keenness with compassion that was not at all pitying. She had to know what shape she was to fit into the puzzle.

"Soon. As soon as I can make it happen, and your grandmother can, then you'll meet them. I promise you."

"Right," she nodded, "I suppose that's as good as anything."

"Yes, it is."

"Today was good. Have you noticed my grandmother's stopped wearing black Joe?"

He couldn't keep the grin from his face, "Yes. I told her I was the only one around here allowed to wear black."

She laughed irreverently and her grin reminded him, almost painfully, of Phillippe.

-0-

"Anna! Phone."

Her aunt wasn't particularly fond of pleasantries and Anna jumped from her bed, tossing 'Catch 22' back down. She hadn't looked at it since that night but she'd just finished it. She wished she hadn't because she felt like a part of her would never come back now, as if the her before that night was somehow intricately bound up within the ink and paper of the novel.

She ran downstairs.

"Who?"

"Your father," Magda smiled.

She picked up the receiver, "Hello papa."

"Hello Anna," he sounded tired on the other end, "How are you? Any news from school? How's Geneva?"

"Good and not yet," she tried to keep the dejection from her voice, "And it's much nicer than the time I was at finishing school."

She could hear the smile in his voice, "Listen, I was thinking…"

"Si?"

"Ah, are you still practising your Spanish? Good."

She scoffed, "It's habit. Magda insists."

"Zealot," he laughed.

"So," she perched on the edge of the phone table, "You were saying…"

"Ah, yes. God I'm tired Anna, sorry, I lost my train of thought. America, I was thinking America? Two minutes."

She heard her mother on the other side of the world, her musical voice saying her father's name. She wondered but had never yet had the guts to ask if they were together finally. She imagined them sitting together, his hand in hers, him sleeping against her like he had that one time she'd seen them properly. She wanted it to be real but asking would mean she'd really know and it was the first question in her life she didn't want to know the answer to.

"Clarisse," she heard him say, "Give me a minute please. I am on the phone to Spain."

It alarmed her that he'd lied and it was the first thing she told him, aware she sounded accusing.

"You just lied to her."

"Woah. Hold on Anna," he laughed, "You'll understand if you let me explain."

"It better be good, don't lie to her," she grunted.

Her attitude towards Clarisse had quite changed; it had softened and evened out since her brother's death, since the moment she'd come back from Geneva and saw her mother truly, really, for the first time.

"I'm not. Well I am, but it's a good lie."

"No such thing papa dearest."

"Right, well. We'll see if you still think that. I've charted a plane to pick you up for the Independence Day ball. You'll get to meet Mia, and see your mother and myself. I think it'd be good for her to meet you and well, it would delight your mother."

"But I'm not allowed."

"Ah, I've researched the rule inside out and taken advice from Sebastian. Coming to Court in Genovia is frowned upon for at least a year but attending a ball in a consulate half-way around the world as a guest of the family is alright. Trust me. I leave no stone unturned."

"But-"

"Magda knows, she's given you a few days off. It'll be good, trust me?"

She laughed, excitement bubbling in her chest, "Always. Always trust the man in black."

"Which your mother isn't wearing anymore," he sounded giddy with pleasure, like any husband who worshipped his wife.

But, Anna reminded herself quickly, they were not any husband and wife.

"What is she like? Amelia, I mean."

"Like Phillippe," his voice grew more distant, more pensive, "So like Pip. I wore the tie he bought me to meet her. It's frayed, a lot, but…" he laughed weakly, "I hid it with my jacket."

"He'd love that. You looking like a scruff just for him."

"He would, wouldn't he?"

She tipped her head against the wall, "I still think he's alive and then I remember. Do you get that?"

He swallowed, "He wasn't my boy but I loved him like he was."

"Your capacity for love amazes me. You loved them like you loved me. Thank God you did."

She didn't need to see him to know he would have been moved to tears by her honesty.

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