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Since the last was so bad have this one - Sorry I'm advance for this one :)

Since the last was so bad have this one - Sorry I'm advance for this one :)

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Lucille

Memories of Paris filled Lucille's brain as soon as they had set foot in the outskirts. She hadn't been to the busy city since she was a little girl, with her mother. Paris was something she associated with the woman that she had so little time with, and it brought her nothing but happiness.

She remembered the pastries that her mother loved, that had spurred her own love of baking. She remembered the sweet smelling flowers that bordered the windows of the street where they stayed frequently. The perfumed scent of roses were always strongest in the Spring, a large contrast to the calmness of the lavender at home.

The flowers, she felt, had always been fitting. Roses paved their way in the city of love. Lavender gave her home a serenity only found in nature. Though Lucille had only been young when her mother was alive, she had found love in the warm arms of her family and peace in the beauty of her hometown.

But to Lucille, that happiness that came with her memories felt misplaced. This Paris held the distinct smell of smoke and the air was thick and suffocating. The city was overcome by war.

Lucille lead them through the streets, curving through pathways like it was second nature, because it was. In her mind, there was a map and she followed her footsteps to the large, red X, directing them straight to a governmental building, where they would hopefully meet Eugene's friends.

As they walked into the building, she was met with someone shouting her name. "Lucille Barras?"

She turned abruptly, her eyes meeting with a tall and dark haired man. He was unfamiliar, but she could tell he was English before she had even glanced at his uniform.

"Yes?" She asked.

"I'm Oliver, a friend of Eugene's." He said, and Lucille sighed in relief.

"How did you know it was me?" She asked, and the man laughed although stoically.

"There isn't many people who walk in here with long blonde hair and two soldiers behind them." He said, and she laughed awkwardly. "Though you'd be surprised by how many of the English have been displaced. Mostly messengers and tunnellers, but still."

"You can help us?" Dawson asked and the soldier nodded briefly.

"Yes, that's why I'm here. We have a train leaving out of Paris in an hour." Oliver said. "We were expecting you earlier."

"We had a bit of trouble." Lucille exclaimed, brows dipping in annoyance at his rude quip.

"Well, if you can say your goodbyes, then I will be able to escort them myself." He said, looking at her with a wide glance.

"Thank you." Lucille said, though her eyes were in close to a glare as she watched him leave before turning to the two of them.

The time had finally come for her to say goodbye, but the fact hadn't quite hit her yet. Dawson was smiling thankfully toward her while Tommy held back.

"Where will you go from here?" Dawson asked her and she shrugged.

"I'll stay here for a week before going back. I can't leave my father." She said.

"Just be safe."

"Thank you, Lucille. For everything." He said, taking a hand and patting her against the arm. "We'd be dead without you."

"I'll miss you." Lucille smiled modestly, taking his hand and pulling him into a hug. "Now go fight a war and win over your lady friend."

Dawson laughed as he nodded, pulling his hat over his head before he took in a breath. He said one last goodbye before turning away and heading toward Adrien, who stood waiting for them both. They were silent, taking in the fact that it may have been the last time that either of them saw him.

Lucille looked to Tommy as he stepped forward, removing the hat from his head and holding it tightly in his two hands. She smiled, stepping forward too.

"This is goodbye." Tommy said.

At that moment, the physical desire that she had held for him, was gone. In its place she felt what only could be described as a pity and tenderness. She had cared and looked after him for so long that the concept of him going back to war saddened and despaired her deeply.

"If I mean anything to you, please just be careful." Lucille told him, her hand reaching to hold his cheek, stroking his grizzled jaw with her thumb.

"Because you care for me?" He asked.

"Yes, because I care for you." She said, breathing out. "More than anything in the world."

They stood silent. Tommy looked over to see tears brimming in her eyes. He pulled her in for their last and final kiss. She memorised the shape and movements of his lips as he kissed her softly, as is she would break any moment. His forehead was against hers as he pulled away, breathing lightly. From where they stood, his breath was close to her lips still.

"And you, don't let anything happen to you." He said.

Lucille chose to mimic his own words from his reply with a smile. "Because you care for me?"

He smiled, nodding. "Everyone cares for you, Lucille.

"Will you come back to me?" She whispered and Tommy pulled back slightly so he could look into her eyes easily.

As she waited for his answer, Lucille felt like she was falling. Her stomach had dropped in anticipation. It was like she had tripped from a ledge and Tommy was her landing. He had the power to be a cushion, holding her comfortably as she lands, or a rock snapping lightly at her delicate ankles.

"Do you want me to?" Tommy asked, but he already knew the answer as he leaned in to place a kiss to her cheek, his hands resting on her hips.

Lucille was at loss for words as she nodded, leaning into his touch. Everything around them had disappeared as the remainder with one another.

"I promise, I will come back to you." He said seriously, and Lucille smiled.

She had landed in his strong and secure arms, her stomach holding butterflies rather than a brick. Lucille leaned into him one last time, whispering, "Goodbye."

Not a word between them had been spoken aloud of their love. But their mutual feelings were not unknown to the other. They both knew that they loved each other, it was undeniable.

Lucille found comfort in the knowledge that in five or ten or even twenty years, the pain she felt was unique to her own, would be gone. It would be dissolved into the complexities her life would surely bring. But Lucille knew, deep down, she would always be able to go back to that moment.

The moment in which she shared herself to the man that she knew she loved.

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