Okay, let me start off by saying how sorry I am for the late update. Man, school is such a pain but luckily my finals for first term are in December, so I will have a long break before January starts! That means lot's more writing will get done! And If I don't get to update before than; I want to say Happy Thanksgiving!

A warm thanks to my super Beta reader Hyperia!

Disclaim: I own nothing but Lucy and the memory of Cat Lady and her family.

The trip to Lyon had been long and tedious, but I was starting to feel more like myself. On the train, I had sat next to a few memorable characters that had their own tall tales to share. I had been eager and rambunctious to listen. Some would talk for hours on end and wouldn't even stop in their story telling to eat a meal in a ravenous manner. I, too, was enthralled and found myself eating with one hand while keeping my ears and eyes peeled to the teller. I had already forgotten Paris and all the woes it has caused me in the past year. Lyon was my savior, my Babylon, and I was overcome with grief and despair at the idea to leave. I was currently staying in a hotel that was quant in size and accommodations, but I was more than resilient inside the tiny hovel. Any crook or hole in the floor was ignored from my attention when I stayed apathetic to the less then reputable conditions. It was an old couple who were down on their luck and had not else but a small business to run with few cliental left. To me, it was justified enough to feign ignorance.

My neighbor was to be buried with her family a day from now and all I had to look on were the sights. I wore a plan checkered sundress, starring out the window of my room. There were fields sprawled out behind the makeshift hotel, and I watched when the wind danced through the brush. The light wheat color of spring grass grew tall and flowed like water on land. I was enticed to feel that same breeze on my pale skin when opened the windows wider. My hair blows back and away from my face when I inhale morning dew and sowed barley down from a lower field. Winters chill barely clinging could still be felt and it turned my skin with goose bumps. A thicket of strawberry bushes was below my window, and the little green buds were growing ripe in a pale green color. I longed to taste them once they finished maturing but time was not on my side and I would leave this place before that even could occur.

I sigh and look down in my lap. My first day here I had bought a worn leather book with empty pages. The stark white of the parchment was waiting for ink to hit the page, but I could not express in words what I was feeling. Everything about war and Donny had been swept away in my absence from Paris. The thoughts were gone, but the feelings were fresh wounds in my skin that dug deeper then nails in driftwood. I brush a stray lock of chestnut hair from my face, moving around in my room with bare feet. The lovely old couple would serve breakfast soon and I'd make my way into the Grande city today. They lived away from urban areas and preferred the rural end at the edge of the city that lead into farmland. I have been a city girl all of my life, and I find myself stuck aquiver with shock from the grown attachment I feel for the simple life.

I slip on ballet slippers the color of the clearest pond before making my way downstairs. There were few guests staying in the small building and we all sit at the large dining table like a mismatched family. I smile at a father who was with his young daughter alone. His wife had caught the fever last spring and they had been parted since her dying day. I sit at the rickety wooden table, reaching for a piece of dry baguette. The churned butter scrapes over the bread, leaving small crumbs scattered on my ancient china plate. The old couple sits at the front and smile at their guests with a warm beam of light. I suspected they never had any children of their own and thus they longed for the company of their guests, but this was just a morning thought.

I had telephoned Fredrick once on my arrival date and he was glad I decided to venture out on my own. He made a promise to feed Tabby, my newly adopted friend who rested on my sofa cushions. It made me chuckle to hear Fredrick's uncertainty when it came to feeding a cat, he truly was clueless. The note I had left for Donny I had placed on my coffee table. I had made the wording general and did not address it to him by name in order to keep suspicion down from my brother. This was of course hopeful thinking that Donny would stop by to see me again and I couldn't stomach the thought right now. My throat was dry and tight and it was increasingly hard to swallow the bland baguette. I sip slowly on the well water to prevent myself from chocking.

"Where are you going today, Lucy?" a tiny voice asks me from the end of the table.

It was the little girl with her father. Her name was Emilie and her hair was brighter then the reddest of rubies. Her freckled nose scrunches when she smiles up at me. Her father wrinkles his mustache while telling her to sit still.

"I'm sorry, she is pestering you again," he says sincerely. Something in his eyes are dim and I know what it is to look in a man who has lost almost everything. His life hangs by a thread and it was his daughter that kept him sane.

"No, no, she is no bother. I enjoy the company," I reply to him. His shoulders seem to relax from the tense posture he constantly held.

"Where are you going?" she asks again, hopping in her seat.

"To look around the city, it is my one last chance before I leave after tomorrow," I answer with a tender smile her way.

"Oh, me and Papa are going there, too! Can we go together? Can we, Papa?" she beseeches, staring up at him. She pulls on the wrinkled sleeves of his wool shirt, leaving bread crumbs down the side.

"I'm sure, Lucy doesn't want us to drag her down," he tells his daughter.

"It wouldn't be a problem. I have no real sense of purpose going there, I only wanted to take in the sights," I return.

"See, she doesn't mind," the girl puts in.

"Alright, but we'll only go so long as we are wanted," her father agrees.

"Perfect, then we can all get ready to go," I say, brushing away the crumbs from my face. I fold the napkin neatly back on the table.

"We can take my car into the city. It isn't much, but it'll get you to and from where you want to go."

"I'm sure it will be fine," I answer politely.

"Go and wash your hands quickly, Emilie, and then we can go," he tells her and she rushes back up the stairs of the home.

I look around the cozy bed and breakfast establishment. The couple only had one photo on their wall, it was of their wedding. Two young people lost to the world except to each other and their love. It seemed like they could triumph over any feat, and I stopped to wonder how they made it through all of this. The war had not been easy on anyone, and I'm sure they had seen their fair share of horrors from the Great War as well.

"I'm ready!" Emilie shouts, jumping down from the stairs. I smile when her father silently scolds her.

"Are you ready to go, Lucy?" he asks.

"Yes, just let me grab a jacket, there is still a nip in the air," I say, before returning to my room in a flash.

My pea coat reaches to my waist as I do up the large black buttons. I tuck some money into my pocket, before meeting up with my travel companions. Emilie bounces beside me when we walk down the gravel path to their vehicle. They were natives to Lyon, and had lived in the city before a bad streak of luck hit them. Now they were staying at the hotel until work could be found. I had always known I was more fortunate than others when it came to money, but it's different to see the truth in front of your face. But they had something I had lost and that was love. I had lost my parents and the numbing pain had returned to haunt me. The money had never been enough, even when I was growing up and I think it was the reason for my acting out. In ways, I felt inferior to them and I wanted to hide in my shadow from feeling insolent.

The starting of the rusty car engine brings me back to reality and we drove down the winding road to the city. Emilie hops around the back while firing out questions to me.

"What is Paris like?"

"Well, it's large and heavily populated. Shopping and eating seems to be all the people like to do," I speak truthfully.

"And are all of the people dresses in pretty clothes? You dress so nice," she comments.

"I suppose fashion is important in Paris, but there is so much more. The history there is what attracts me."

She scrunches her face, losing interest. To a child, she would rather hear the glamorous parts of my current home, but I felt less then inclined to talk about it. It had lost the shiny attraction to me long ago.

"You like Frances history?" the father asks.

"Yes, it is a shame my country is ruining any chance to learn about it. I had wanted to walk through the Louvre but alas most of the paintings have been hidden away," I say with a melancholy expression.

"I mean no respect, but if Germany loses the war then perhaps you can one day return to learn the history."

"I would probably be shot for saying this, but I hope my country does lose," I whisper to him so Emilie doesn't hear. Someone so young should not have their ears tainted by war.

"I will admit, my first impression about Germans was a dark and clouded one, but after meeting your acquaintance I think I have changed that opinion. You aren't all bad."

I smile and that's all I do. I think back to my group of rebels and wonder what sky they are looking up at. I wanted them to win the war so much that my very joints ached. They who were so callously referred to as Basterds, deserved glory more than anyone I will ever know, for that I was certain.

The light colored bricks of the buildings of Lyon come into view and my face lights up. This city was prime and glorious. Smiles filled the busy streets with markets opened on the roads selling goods. We park the car on the curb next to a large building and I hop out, mimicking Emilie's previous actions. I gawk at the city like a child and I could give a damn about people staring.

"So where would you like to start, Lucy?" he asks.

"Oh, anywhere is good. Go where you need to and I'll follow. I don't think I'll be disappointed," I reply when we start to walk inline.

Emilie grabs her father's hand, and I try to recall the memory of myself doing that with my father. So maybe that time had passed for me, but it wasn't too late for my son and I wanted to be able to walk down the streets with him and me hand in hand. What I wanted now more than anything was a normal life, but one key piece was missing and I know who I wanted to fit in that picture. Damn it, why hadn't I stopped him? Donny filled my thoughts again without my warning or permission, and I kept seeing our last conversation. If fate would have it then I would see him again, but I hated leaving everything to fate and I would make sure I spoke to him one last time, even if it meant he didn't feel the same anymore.

We enter a tiny gift shop that was selling small glass ware and clothing items. Amongst the knickknacks, I am mesmerized by the sets of quills and ink. Not many people wrote that way anymore but after buying my journal, I figured it would be nice to lay my first word down with this special ink. I walk up to the counter and pay for my purchase. Emilie's father walks up to me to ask a favor.

"Could you look after Emilie for a moment while I go across the street?"

"Of course," I nod. I figured he was looking for work and I did not want to pry and offend his pride.

I go over to Emilie who is touching the fabrics of decretive scarves.

"Do you like those?" I ask.

"They're pretty," she answers, sounding slightly gloomy. I could see it in her face that she wanted one.

"I'll tell you what. You pick out one that is your favorite and I'll buy it for you."

She looks excited but then her face falls. "I don't think Papa will let you. He said for me to never accept charity."

"I don't see it as that. I owe him for driving me all the way into the city anyhow," I put in softly.

"Well . . . I do like this one," she says, holding up a lavender colored scarf.

"Alright, I'll buy it for you," I agree, taking it up to the counter with her in toe.

She takes the parcel with a wide grin while we walk into the street. A fountain sits in the centre on the avenue and I take Emilie over.

"They say if you throw a coin in the fountain, your wish will come true," She tells me. How delightful the mind of a child is. I pull out a coin from my pocket and stare at it for the longest time. It was a silly superstition, but I close my palm around the coin and silently pray to myself before tossing the coin in the water. I watch when it settles to the bottom. Water flows from the spout at the top and trickles down to the base while my coin is unmoved. Just a silly superstition I frown to myself.

"There you two are," the father says approaching us.

"Papa, look what Lucy got me!" she says, jumping at her father's pant leg.

"Now Emilie, you know not to let others buy for you. You should not have let Lucy spend her money on you," he speaks sternly.

She frowns with disappointment. "But she volunteered," she mumbles.

"Lucy, you should not have done that. Would you like me to return it?" he asks.

"Nonsense. She wanted it and I felt guilty for making you go all this way for me. She can keep it as a reminder of me since I'm leaving tomorrow."

He nods when we continue to view the city. The air seemed somewhat dense and I feel my lips turn dry while I swallow a dry lump. Every so often, we pass a German uniform and I want to wipe them away as they stain the beautiful city. Everything that held beauty they seemed to touch with their evil. I spot Fredrick's and Dieter's all over and it's like being back in Paris. I couldn't outrun my destiny it seemed and I felt myself becoming increasingly paranoid. I knew none of them and yet we were connected because of the homeland. I've never felt more like a black sheep then I did at this very moment. Any off thrown gaze that came my way from a citizen felt like I was being criticized. Did they know the truth about me? Would they kill me?

"Lucy, would you like to eat something?" I break out of my thoughts.

"I'm sorry, pardon?"

"Would you like to stop and eat?" the father asks again.

"No, I'm not hungry," I say softly.

"Are you filling ill?" Emilie asks with worry.

"Lucy is fine, darling, she is just tired," the father looks my way as if he knows what truly the matter is.

"Yes, I am very tired," I tell her.

"Have you had enough for one day?" he asks.

"I think so. I'm getting worn on my feet and it is a long way back."

"Let's go to the car." Emilie walks with her father as I trail behind. Once we reach the car, she places her tiny hand on mine and asks me something.

"What did you wish for, Lucy?"

"Oh, if I tell you that then it won't come true," I tease with a wink. She giggles before leaping into the worn automobile.

I stay silent the remainder of the drive. We seem to pass endless trees and barren plains. The city seemed long behind us and yet it was only minutes ago since we left. Nothing looks familiar anymore and I sink into the endless nothing as tomorrow approaches. I don't remember passing the way we came and yet we end up at the same destination as before. We return to the hotel, and I hardly remember the way it looked before we left in high noon. The sun was setting behind the clouds and I go to my room silently.

The window had been left open by me; a careless mistake and now the room was chilled. I close the shutters and sit on the ledge. Tomorrow I would leave this place and be back to my old life. I found what little comfort was to be had, but I also felt strong. Certain people would be surprised to see the new me and I looked forward to the shock it would bring. I kick back the sewn patch quilt and lay my head on the flat feathered pillow. I stare up at the ceiling with an empty feeling before drifting off into a lazy sleep. It took no effort to find the blackness and once again I see nothing. I have not had a single dream since coming to Lyon.

The next day, a car comes for me at the hotel when I bid farewell to the few who had gotten to know me in such a short time. Emilie shares tears and she wipes them away on her scarf that she had not taken off since last night according to her father. I observe the old couple who watch my leave outside their hotel in the early sun. They hold onto each other in an embrace when I pull away and soon the place is a distant memory.

I was adorned in all black, ready to mourn a friend. The cemetery is small, whilst little buds of spring flowers bloom between the hedge stones. A plain casket is placed beside a potted hole in the ground. Few people are scattered around to watch and they eye me as an intruder. I find the judgment to be misplaced and tacky. I was the one to see her home and I felt hostile towards these supposed relatives who look on me now with hate. I keep my gloved hands tight and clenched at my sides as my large hat shades my eyes.

The priest starts to speak about Shelly. Her full name was Shelia Dolores and she had been married to a man named André. They had three children; two sons and a daughter; Tabitha. They had died at the hands of the Gestapo for suspected of hiding Jews. I was ashamed about their death by my compatriot's hands. Shelly had not been home at the time, but rather at the market picking up sundries. Where her story led her after that I did not know, but I would remember her as my neighbor who kept me company in a time of need. Why she had given her life story to me, I was uncertain. Perhaps she wanted me to be a name sake to her life or maybe she just had never come to terms that the party was over. There were no more flashy lights for her or her family and yet she thought it was fitting to let me continue living her life.

The priest then continues to drabble on about God and how Shelly was in a better place. I've since lost faith in God for the longest of times. I was bitter and envious of those who rested easily; but was it a sin to envy the dead? Or is it the dead who envy the living? I couldn't say for certain anymore. After I'm standing alone amongst the lone graves, I look at the stones next to her. I rub the dirt from André's name and ponder what he looked like. Had Dieter been a perfect match to his face or did she simply call him that because of me. The graves of her children send me into a state of pain. Three lives ended before their time. They haven't had a taste of life; the young die while the old linger on. Was this how war dictated things to be?

My legs cramp when I stand. A car waits to drive me back to the train station, back to hell. Only this time I was going alone. I take one last long look at Cat Lady's crave before turning and walking away. I know I would never see her again in this life or any other. The driver holds the door for me and I step in with a curt nod. My promise, I had made silently, had been fulfilled and now I had three left to finish. First one on my list made me turn sadistic with a wicked grin. Hans would be finding a new Lucy at his door and I shook with chills at besting him. No longer would he terrorize me. It wouldn't matter what he did to me anymore, because for me, he couldn't do anything that could harm or damage me any more than I already was.

We stop at the train station and I take my one piece of luggage aboard. The loud train whistles and I take my seat as we travel along. I look at my hands for awhile, not really pondering anything. Fredrick would have more news about his premiere that I was inevitably going to. I wonder if he had made any progress with that theater girl, though I very much doubted it. I also hoped not because of the horrible feeling I had in my gut about her. She had been wronged and people use that to get vengeance. I know because we were one in the same. One day I would learn who had wronged her. But by that time, it would be too late to realize we were wronged by the same person. I sit back in my seat, resting my eyes and ears to the sound of the train. Rain pours lightly on the windows that if you didn't bother to look, you would not have known it was there. I think back to the trickling of the fountain in Lyon and the wish I had made. Perhaps the magic was working a little and would travel the long distance to make it back to me in Paris.

So next chapter, everything gets back on track. Lucy will be in Paris, dealing with her brother, Hans, Dieter and Donny. She is changed and feeling anew, which can surely mean the end of the war is nearing . . .

Reviews please! Tell me what you think her wish was!