La Vie En Rose -- France

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Lorna finds herself in Bordeaux, following a mysterious summons. In Beaumont-les-Bains, she discovers what happened to Remy.

(*cough* Please don't think about the timelines here. Really.)



It was warm, hot really, and just overcast enough that she still needed her wide-brimmed hat and dark sunglasses. The hem of her sundress fluttered in the gentle breeze, skimming across her thighs. Only the sling on her arm marred her casual and carefree appearance. That and the worried set of her mouth.

She hadn't heard from him in a week. Didn't even really know that his being gone was a cause for concern until Amanda had emailed her. The very fact that the Brit had put aside her hate for that made Lorna realize something much worse than Remy's usual disappearing act was going on.

The whole set-up was so very Remy. A mystery ticket to Bordeaux, a car and driver meeting her at the airport. Never any explanation or even request. If she hadn't been worried, she'd have been infuriated and would never have stepped on the plane. But she was because Amanda was.

She'd never been to France, despite Marcel's urging her to go. Only that brief trip to Paris--also Remy's doing--and that hardly counted. It had been business, even if she had enjoyed shopping in the little Parisian boutiques. This…Lorna didn't know what this trip was. Just that Remy had sent her tickets, asking her to come here: to his little town that was the closest thing to Heaven that he believed he'd get.

Beaumont-les-Bains.

She stood before the tiny stone inn with the sea at her back and contemplated what to do next. Was she meant to go in? Just wait outside? She'd brought nothing more than an overnight bag and had received nothing further in the way of instructions. With a sigh, she adjusted her bag on her shoulder and strode inside, the dark cool interior making her shiver.

The front desk was staffed by a genial man who reminded her just a bit of her Calculus teacher. "Bonjour, je m'appelle Lorna Dane. Est-ce que vous avez des messages pour moi?"

"Mademoiselle Dane. We've been expecting you." His English was accented, but quite good. "Welcome to our inn. My name is Jean-Louis Martell. My wife--" He paused and leaned back towards an open door. "Amélie! Mademoiselle Dane is here!"

"She can wait! The sauce cannot, Jean-Louis!"

Jean-Louis turned back and gave Lorna a typically Gallic shrug. "That is the flower of my life, Amélie." He said dryly. "M. LeBeau is waiting for you. Outside, the table by the well, overlooking the ocean. Would you like a glass of wine to start, or something stronger?"

It was, Lorna was quite sure, entirely wrong to be tempted by the talk of sauce so she refrained from asking if she could go back to the kitchen. "Just coffee, thank you, M. Martell. May I leave my bag with you?"

"Of course. I'll take it up to your room." Jean-Louis picked up the bag and waved her towards the door. "Out that way, mademoiselle. He's been waiting." Jean-Louis gave her a queer smile before taking her bag out of the room.

The patio was just as picturesque as everything else in this small, quaint town--caught somewhere between a fairy tale and a painting. Far from the bleed-edge chic of the city, the few people who lazed away the hot afternoon over blood red glasses of the region's signature wines were dressed in soft, warm tones that bespoke comfort before fashion yet sacrificed style not at all.

She didn't put her sunglasses back on, just paused in the doorway to see out Remy before stepping into the sun again.

He was sitting at a table by a stone well, the rough rocks threaded with green moss. Past him, the flagstones ended and the wide stretch of beach swept out, bordering the Atlantic. White speckled the pale sand; flats of sea salt that was prized by chefs in France. The sun shone brightly, rendering the pale wood of the table almost white.

Remy was looking out at the sea, watching the waves crept towards the surf. As Lorna stepped out into the small courtyard, he turned and smiled at her. His sunglasses hid his eyes, and his cane was leaning against his chair. With fluid motions, Remy stood and walked over to her, coming to stop a foot away. His cane remained at the table. He took off his sunglasses, meeting her green eyes with his clear red on black gaze. There was a single stunned moment, hanging in the air before he reached out, took her in his arms and kissed her deeply.

"Bonjour chere. I'm glad dat you made it." Remy said, his voice low and gentle.

Lorna was left clinging to him, staring up in shock, sunglasses still dangling uselessly from her fingers. She licked her lips reflexively and took a deep breath. "Remy, you're..." She stopped in confusion. All right was clearly an understatement but how and when and...what now? She lifted her hand to his face, as though she was testing to see if he was real. "How?"

"Magic." Remy said simply, holding her. "Guess dat 'manda hadn't really completed de spell she started on me last year. Touched my hand, and suddenly everything was back to normal." He didn't mention the seemingly endless moment of searing pain that accompanied it, as his bones and muscles twisted back into proper shape.

Remy turned and walked her to the table, still holding her as he did so. The physical contact was something he didn't want to break quickly.

It was a strange sensation, walking with his arms around her, the movement smooth and fluid with nothing of the limp that had plagued him for months. Lorna felt a little bit light-headed. She wished suddenly that she'd asked for wine instead. As she sank into the chair he pulled out for her, she realized what the half-giddy feeling was or rather what it wasn't. Strange--she had hardly even noticed the weight of the guilt after so long. "So everything is all right? You're completely healed?"

"I think so. Dere's no pain any more, and my powers are back to normal." Remy sat down beside her, his fingers trailing along her arm as he dropped into the chair. His smile had changed. It seemed easier, settled. The tight lines that pain and self-loathing had etched into his features had softened.

She shivered despite the heat. "It seems so unreal," she said, almost more to herself than to him. For a moment, she just sat, taking in his appearance, thinking back to when they'd met and all that came between. "I never would have expected this."

"You not de only one, chere." He paused and looked around him, at the small patio and the sea beyond. "So dis is Beaumont-les-Bains."

Remy was interrupted as Jean-Louis appeared, placing a bottle of wine on the table between them, a pair of glasses, Lorna's coffee and a small glass of amber liquid for LeBeau. He gave Lorna a warm smile.

"Dinner is in ten minutes, Mademoiselle Dane. We've been told that you have exquisite taste, which should more than make up for M. LeBeau's lack of." He winked at her and went back inside, leaving Remy to scowl at his back.

"Remy always thought dat I had good tastes. Snob." The words came with practiced familiarity, obvious a joke that had been played out numerous times.

Amusing though the little play was, Lorna was still half in the same stunned state she'd been since she saw him walk to her. "Remy, I don't understand how this happened. Where have you been? Amanda actually voluntarily contacted me she was so worried and honestly...I thought I was coming here to say goodbye."

"It's... complicated." He'd been running the same moment through his head ever since he'd come to on the grass in front of Charlie's grave. "When 'manda completed de spell, it, well, made a lot of things dat I thought were clear murky again. I just needed to get out, as far out as I could, and catch up wit' everything. I didn't mean to worry you, chere. It was just something dat I needed to figure out for myself."

"I wasn't worried until Amanda called. You disappear a lot, I'm used to that and we were all really way too caught up in what was going on with Scott. I'm not used to her freaking out over it." Lorna sipped her coffee, smiling over the smooth, hot taste of it. "So did you? Figure things out, I mean?"

"Not all of it, but I think dat I'm getting dere." Remy took a sip of his wine, easing comfortably into his chair, more relaxed then she'd ever seen him. "Which reminds me, we're due for dinner wit' de comte d'Rochefort dis evening. Seems dat he'd like a meeting."

Lorna gave him an incredulous look, "Remy, you aren't seriously telling me I have to be dressed to meet a comte in a few hours. I don't have a thing to wear!" Everything she'd packed was either casual and cool or rugged enough for getting into trouble (getting her uniform on domestic flights was impossible. Jeans had to suffice.)

"Ah, you forget, chere. I'm one of dem super secret spies. We think of everything." Remy winked. "Also, Remy gave you measurements to Amélie. She found you something yesterday."

He took another sip of his wine, drinking in the sight of her with the smooth red. He wasn't sure how she'd react to finding him here. It was like a fantasy, something locked away tight inside but never expected to turn out to be real.

"Why do you know my...you know what, pretend I didn't even begin to ask that question." Lorna rubbed at her forehead, trying to sort out what was going on, not really even noticing how he was looking at her. "Okay, so who is this guy and why are we having dinner with him and what precisely is the purpose of being here?"

"De comte d'Rochfort? He's de main landowner around de Beaumont-les-Bains area. De family's been here hundreds of years. Lots of vineyards. He's got a wine cellar dat has been known to inspire more lustful thoughts den a division of willing housewives." Remy leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table and folding his hands together. "He invited me to dinner as a thank you for de donation to de town."

Lorna's attention was instantly refocused, "What donation to the town?"

"Gambit, other den being a psychotic murdering batard, was also a pretty sharp business man. One of de reasons Remy been out of touch is so dat I could access all of de accounts dat he had spread 'round Europe. Lumped all together, Gambit had turned taking people's lives into just over thirty million dollars." Remy had dropped his gaze from her face to his hands, fingers twitching has he recounted the story. "If I'm going to ever get past him, I need to resolve the things of his that are still out there. I got all the money together, and donated it. Ten million to the town, to help preserve it in an undeveloped state, ten to dat research fund dat Moira and Madelyn started up, and de rest to de Centre to fund what we do."

He looked back at her, the wry smile back. "You still going to love me now dat I'm a poor man?"

Her eyebrow twitched upwards, "I'd say no but you'd probably believe me, you nutcase. You gave away 30 million dollars? That's incredible." She meant that quite sincerely. Blood money or no, giving away a fortune was still giving away a fortune. "Does this mean I'm buying lunch?"

"Non. Remy not entirely honest you know." He reached for his wine glass. "Dere's money dat I made over de last year and a half, and some from deals dat were not covered in blood. It's not a fortune, but it's my work, not his. Dat I kept."

He took a deep breath, smelling the sea breeze and enjoying the feel of the sun on them. "Besides, what else would I do wit' it? Giving it to de place I love de most seems like a smart investment, I think."

"Oh good, because I have absolutely nothing in Euros. Just plastic and the exchange rate is highway robbery." Lorna flashed him a sunny grin. "This town really is lovely. I can see why you're so fond of it." If she was going to say more, she didn't have the chance as a quiet cough from behind her alerted them both to the approach of lunch.

"Assuming you're done pawing the girl, M.LeBeau ." A short dark haired woman held a tray with a pair of covered plates, a smattering of condiments and a basket of bread.

"Amélie, you know dat you de only one for Remy."

"Then you will die alone, and that thought makes me smile." She put the tray down on the table and pinched Remy's ear hard. He gave a small yelp. "You do not flatter other women in front of your date. I swear, you're worse then Jean-Louis; no manners at all. Mademoiselle Dane, enjoy your food. If this one can't behave, you just let me know." Amélie left the table with a smile for Lorna, while Remy rubbed his ear.

"And dat's her being nice to me."

"I like her," was Lorna's impish reply, smirking at him as she surveyed the beautifully plated meals they'd been given. Simple cooking and characteristic of the region, of course. Marcel would have had some snobbish comment about country cooking. Then he'd have been in the kitchen equal parts cajoling and seducing every last culinary secret out of the chef. Lorna bit her lip; she missed him. She blinked a couple of times and lifted her fork. "So, when I go to her about my dress will she have marvelous gossip to share about you?"

"Non. Remy's times in Beaumont-les-Bains were mostly 'bout quiet. As boring, sane quiet as I could possibly get." Remy suddenly gave a dark look back at de kitchen. "Unless she tell you 'bout de night wit' Jean-Louis and de cognac. Don't ask about de cognac. Dere might still be a warrant out for both of us."

"Ask about the cognac. Got it." She laughed. "I'll bet she has more stories. You'd be shocked. You might be a spy, Remy but you're not a woman."

"Thank god. Remy look awful in heels." Remy took a couple of bites, savouring the food. He shared a look with Lorna and put his hand over top of hers, squeezing lightly.

Lorna smiled then extracted her hand so she could eat. "I don't know about that. You never know. We should find out. I'll wear the snazzy suit and you can wear the dress. They're nice and cool."

"Dat's a superspy suit. You need at least three months of training before you qualified to wear it." Remy joked in response.

"That consists of what? Lurking about in a dark trenchcoat, smoking a lot and eating too much greasy food?" Lorna grinned at him. "Or should I cultivate a dark and mysterious air as well. Perhaps start to wear sunglasses at night?"

"Dat's just 'cause when you dat cool, de sun shine on you twenty-four hours a day, chere. However, de outfit for female superspies is a little different. If Remy remembers right, it mostly consists of suntan lotion."

"That would be the memory of your fevered imagination, right?" Because it complemented the food better, Lorna switched to wine, enjoying the flavours characteristic of the region.

"Actually I think it's closer to more desperate hope dat you might say yes." Remy gave her a devilish smile. "Remy even buy de lotion, you know."

Lorna laughed, "We're supposed to be having dinner with the comte."

"He's French. I'm sure he'll understand." Remy put up his hands. "You right though. Finish lunch, and we'll have some time to walk around de town before we need to get ready for dinner. You'll love it. It's so wonderfully fantastically dull, like a painting from de last century made real."

"Dull and beautiful." She smiled, "That sounds marvelous. I can't think of anything I'd like more."

"Remy sure dat I could come up wit' something." He riposted, his smile never flickering as they turned back to their meal and the inconsequential talk of simply being together.