Author's Note: Back on track with daily updates and reviews more than appreciated, as usual; I will write the sequel to Nine Months once I'm done with this story (it should be a sweet story all in all).

"I guess it goes to show that you never know where life will take you. You search for answers. You wonder what it all means. You stumble and you soar. And, if you're lucky, you make it to Paris for a while." A. Thomas

Chapter One

It wasn't supposed to happen. It wasn't part of her plans. She was going to Paris for a while – a while that may last forever – and Jane would forget who she was. As a matter of fact, Maura thought that she had already begun to disappear from her friend's mind. It was a long and slow process but she was nonetheless convinced that she would end up being reduced to a mere nothing, to some sort of blurry memory that we can barely name after a while.

She didn't want it to happen but she knew that she couldn't fight against that little voice that kept on telling her that it was just how life was supposed to work out and that she had no choice but to accept it. She wasn't optimistic. Not at all. For the first time in a while, Maura Isles actually felt resigned.

But then Jane took her aback. She stormed back into her life with that loud and exhuberant temper that Maura loved so much. She wouldn't go to Paris alone. Jane would come along, for an entire month. These thirty days would be theirs and nobody else's. The unexpected decision didn't have an impact on the outcome of their life but it nonetheless softened those upcoming days that Maura saw as gray ones.

"Are you sure..." Maura turned around and realized that Jane wasn't in the main room of their suite anymore. She frowned, a bit perplexed. "Jane?"

They had arrived to their hotel fifteen minutes ago. The night had already fallen over Paris and the City of Lights looked like a labyrinth of candles in a fog of rain. The light of Paris in October was always quite singular.

"I'm there." Jane poked her head out of the bathroom door. "I'm gonna have a bath. You don't mind, right?"

"Absolutely not. Is room service okay for you? I feel a tad lazy and I wouldn't mind having dinner here instead of going out."

The jet lag had an odd effect on Maura. The joy of being in Paris with Jane was overshadowed by an immense sadness that she desperately wanted to sweep away. Carpe diem. They may go separate ways after these thirty days spent in France but they couldn't be more together than they were now.

"Maura. This suite overlooks the Eiffel Tower. How do you want me to mind having dinner here? As long as you don't force me to eat snails, it's all good to me."

Jane's lightness was warm and comforting. It counterbalanced Maura's latent sadness with a delicate subtlety. Jane was happy to be where she currently was, to experience whatever she may be feeling right now. It caused Maura to smile.

"Perfect. Please enjoy your bath while I check the menu. It has probably changed since the last time I stayed here at the Lutétia."

...

"The Lutétia was built in 1910 in the Art Nouveau style. However the interiors are now decorated in the later Art Deco style. Famous guests over the years include Pablo Picasso, Josephine Baker and Peggy Guggenheim. James Joyce wrote a part of Ulysses at the hotel." The more she talked, the more Maura realized how Jane seemed to be fascinated by her words. For once her friend didn't roll her eyes nor did she plead her to stop. Her dark eyes glimmered in the night as she carefully listened to Maura. "When the war began in 1939, the Lutétia attempted to accomodate as many refugees as possible. Because of its reputation, it was filled with a number of displaced artists and musicians. However the French government evacuated the city and the Germans entered Paris. A number of the Lutétia's residents escaped but others were captured by the Germans. The hotel itself was requisitioned by the Abwehr – counter-espionage – and used to house, feed and entertain the officers in command of the occupation. When Paris was liberated in 1944, the hotel was abandoned by the German troops and taken over by French and American forces. From then until the end of the war, it was used as a repatriation center for prisoners of war, displaced persons and survivors from concentration camps."

Maura paused but Jane didn't taken advantage of this ounce of silence to speak. She remained very quiet instead before succumbing to the obvious weight of the past.

"I think it's important to know what happened here, that's why I told you about it." Perhaps sharing it over dinner wasn't the wisest decision but the words had slid on Maura's lips before her to have a chance to hold them back. "These walls... They have a past. It isn't just a hotel but a monument in itself."

Jane nodded slowly. She had noticed the Art Nouveau and Art Deco styles but at no moment had she imagined that the palace she was staying at had played such big role in the past. It made her feel ridiculously proud.

"Is this the reason why you've decided to stay here?"

"It's very central. We're in the heart of Saint-Germain-des-Prés and as much as I like the other bank, my heart belongs to the Left Bank."

"Oh please." A smirk curled up Jane's lips. "I know it's the Mata Hari in you that pushed you to book this suite!"

Maura laughed lightly. She appreciated the seriousness Jane showed towards the history of the Lutétia but the lightness of her latest remark brought Maura the relief she needed. Maura didn't want Jane to leave. She didn't want her to go to Quantico. She wanted their life to remain the same until they died hand in hand. Sadly life had different plans for them and she knew that she was about to lose Jane.

"Do you like the suite?" Maura cast a glance at the modern paintings on the walls, at the brown leather armchairs by the fireplace. It looked very cosy. "I find it to be peaceful. You almost feel like you're home here. Don't you think so?"

Long after dinner and once Jane's breathing became regular on the other side of the bed, Maura got up. She quietly walked to the living-room of their suite and settled in one of the armchairs by the fireplace. She couldn't sleep because of jet lag and because of a thousand feelings that stormed in her heart.

Will you ever understand if I tell you that I don't want you to leave? You're abandoning me, Jane. I don't know what I did to you that you woke up one day feeling the urge to go away from me. I thought we were friends. I considered you as my soul mate. Was I wrong all this time? I feel like I have failed somewhat. It's a terrible thing to say – even more to face – but you're leaving me with a thousand unanswered questions and with a confusion that weighs, and weighs.

I love you. Did you love me too?

You go away because you don't feel fine anymore. I don't make you feel fine anymore. What a painful statement to make. I only wanted your happiness but I pushed you instead into a bottomless sadness. I don't deserve you. I don't deserve anyone. People call me the Queen of the Dead and I think they're right, because this is exactly what I am: lifeless, lost on the Styx at the mercy of quiet shadows where you'll forget about me.

You've betrayed me, my sweet love. You've betrayed me.

From the shadows of the living-room suddenly emerged an ephemeral light. Maura grabbed her cell phone: her mother had sent her a text message. It was late in the night for most of people but Constance Isles didn't belong to them. As a matter of fact, she didn't belong to anyone but to herself.

She knows you're in Paris. She wants to see you.

A quiet anger darkened Maura's features. Her heart skipped a beat and she quickly cast a glance at the bed in the distance in order to make sure that Jane wasn't awake. The night would be long and cold, and lonely. She could feel it already.

Why did you have to tell her?

Paris was supposed to bring inspiration and hope. A surge of life that Maura needed more than ever. Yet the moment the plane had landed, she had felt the weight of her feelings press on her shoulders. Now ghosts from the past seemed to feel like joining the macabre ballet.

She didn't want to see anyone but Jane because their friendship was sick. At a terminal stage. They needed this last adventure together in order to find the strength to face the bitterness that would hit them hardly the moment they would go back to Boston. There was no room for anyone else.

Being resentful won't help you, Maura. Be brave and speak out for once. Dare. You're better than this silence that you impose yourself.

She didn't answer her mother back because she didn't want to lie. She was too tired anyway. Her emotions were tied together and they would begin to suffocate soon. She needed Jane's warmth.

Thus she rushed back to their bed where she settled against her friend's back. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Jane's scent went to her head bewitchingly.

You will forget me but I won't forget you. I can't, even if I wanted to. You're part of me, Jane. Your essence feeds me. I need you to go on and so be it. It's not okay if you don't feel the same but I can't blame you. We don't have a hold over our feelings.

We only have a hold over our regrets.

And I don't want to regret you, Jane.