#and the gendarmes had to wait for the train to pass

[histoireettralala]

They should do a movie about "le tueur de l'Oise". He was a guy who killed, robbed, attacked, fashioned explosive devices, wrote threatening letters, etc... who led the gendarmes and police through a wild chase for months before getting caught. There would be a rising suspicion among squads, a high-pressure chase through swampy areas, exploding cars, girls falling out of cars, and the final reveal would happen in the most dramatic fashion.

It happened in the late 1970s in the Oise département, north-east of Paris, right on the heels of another case that terrorised the region, the Shadow Killer.

[seasidepierre]

sunkissed face part 7 | charles leclerc

FORMULA ONE DRIVERS MASTERLIST

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8

summary: There's something magical about joining Charles on a Grand Prix, especially in the South of France.

warnings: I'm awfully French and will defend the rights of French fans to have a French GP, therefore, I will try to make you fall in l.

words count: 7.5k

You found out that there was an universal rule for airports and train stations about five years ago: taxis were waiting for tourists like you. You moved to the front of the line, where a French guy was reading whatever on his smartphone, a cigarette on the other hand.

The sun was scorching as you stepped out of the airport in Marseille. The flight had been two hours long, barely long enough for you to keep your nerves in check, though you had to admit that you hadn’t been very successful at that. Your stomach was still swarming with a colony of bees and your hands were shaking like leaves when you finally set a foot in France. You had never been to Marseille, though you reckoned that the South of France had always been lovely every time you went there for holidays with Tom, but Marseille was a region that you hadn’t explored. You knew you didn’t have much time to visit, but you still wished you could fit in a bit of sightseeing at some point. You had managed to grab an afternoon off from work and Tom had kindly offered to pick you up from work to drive you to the Stansted airport, which, to be fair, had been a bit of a letdown. Not like the Marseille airport was any much better, truth be told.

You knew Charles wouldn’t be able to pick you up because he was deep in his racing Friday, full of free practices, media duties and other work in the garage. But you trusted the pass that he had mailed to you to open the door for you and you hoped you could make it to the track without too much hassle.

“Excuse me, parlez-vous anglais ?”

“It’s your lucky day,” He smiled.

“Do you take clients to go to the Paul Ricard track?”

“Pfew, that’s a long ride, Miss,” The driver exclaimed. “It’s gonna cost you a bunch, not gonna lie,” He grimaced. “Are you sure you want to take a taxi for that?”

“The quicker the better,” You nodded.

“Then hop on in,” He smiled.

He helped you load your weekend away bag in his boot and opened the backseat door for you so you could sit down. While he indicated the Paul Ricard track into his GPS, you checked your phone and allowed yourself to hop onto the airport wifi one last time to let Tom know you had landed safely. You had told your dad that you were going to the South of France for the weekend, but as he had assumed you were just getting on a girly weekend adventure with a few friends, you hadn’t really been able to tell him the truth. You had no idea why telling your dad you were seeing Charles felt like admitting you were doing something wrong. Because nothing in seeing Charles felt wrong, if you were honest. It was so right, in every way, that it could feel wrong, though. Like a too-good-to-be-true experience. Like something you didn’t completely deserve. But your instincts were usually good and you knew waiting to tell your dad was the right solution. You would tell him, at some point. You would tell your mother, as well. But for now, you had made Tom swear on secrecy and as you were clicking your seatbelt on, you smiled at the screen lighting up with a text from your best friend, telling you to have fun with your guy.

“So you’re going to the Grand Prix, I guess?” The taxi driver smiled in the rearview mirror.

“I am,” You smiled back.

“Where should I park? Visitors or teams?”

“Hmm, I guess teams?” You tentatively asked.

“Well, I hate to ask, but do you have the credentials that go with that? Because the gendarmes are going to stop us and ask for it at some point.”

“I think my pass is enough, let’s try and if it goes wrong, I’ll pay for the detour, don’t worry.”

Your monthly budget was crying in the back of your head, but you knew you were lucky to be able to go to a Grand Prix for free and to not have paid your flight tickets yourself. The least you could do was meet Charles halfway on the spending journey and pay an arm for the taxi. You made small talk with the driver for a bunch of the ride, not really letting him know that you were Charles’ guest. You did though confirm that he was your favorite driver, to which he only agreed, nodding and smiling.

“We have French drivers, don’t get me wrong, but there’s something about this guy, having lived right next to us, that feels right.”

Your heart glowed a little bit brighter, knowing he had such support, everywhere in the world, but especially close to his home. You talked about Ferrari’s struggles, about the heartbreak of Monaco, about what you predicted for this race and why you thought Red Bull could get it. You knew it would take some kind of miracle for Charles to win a race this year. Monaco was his big chance and it blew up right in his face. The car just didn’t work like he wanted it to and the team was struggling to find what they could do to make it work. Carlos Sainz was having just the same issues, so it’s not like it was a Charles problem, but more like a Ferrari problem. And it sucked, you knew it, but Charles was always positive and bright, trying to find the brighter side of it all. And most importantly, you were going to be able to see him again after a few weeks of late night facetimes and texts so numerous your thumbs were a bit sore.

The view outside the taxi was stunning, with a mix of hills and the sea that you could see from afar, at first. Then you started an ascension through a mountain-like road, bordered with pine trees and bathing in the golden light of the Sun. Your taxi had A/C but seeing you marvelling at the decor, the driver stopped the ventilation and opened your window, allowing you to take a big gulp of fresh air, smelling like trees and sunshine despite your mouth being behind your facemask still. The cicadas were blasting their lulling buzzing sound and you grinned at the scenery in front of you. You knew you weren’t going to be able to see much, so you took advantage of the journey to the track to make sure you had a couple of pictures to bring back home.

As planned by your driver, the police showed up on the road about two kilometres away from the track and stopped the car. You showed your pass to the police, to no avail. The road your taxi driver wanted to take was barred, with the exception of the cars that sported a certain sticker on the windshield and that were authorized to take it. Your driver apologized to you and promised to find the most effective way for you to get to the track, which actually meant dropping you on the visitors parking lot and having you walk for a solid thirty minutes under the scorching sun. Your bag was heavy on your shoulder but you knew Charles was not that far from you now, barely a couple of kilometres away, and the anticipation started growing back in your stomach, in rhythm with the cicadas and the cars you could hear racing already. The positive point of your hike was that you had had the intelligence of wearing sneakers and not open sandals, because judging by the amount of dust already accumulating on your feet, you would have looked like a cavewoman by the time you��d have made it to the garages.

The passes Charles gave you let you enter the general areas around the track after a quick check of your vaccinal pass and you smiled at the F1 panels and fans everywhere. You were finally back to a race and it felt like coming back to a magical place, even though you knew there was no one really magical on track.

You asked for help from a volunteer who accompanied you to the VIP entrance and made sure you were taken care of. You crossed the track twice, seeing the F1 cars roll past you until you caught a glimpse of Charles’ car zooming beneath your feet. You smiled on your own, the volunteer in front of you oblivious to your antics. Charles had no idea you were already on track. He was supposed to pick you up tonight from the airport, as you had planned first. You were lucky that the flight company let you change your flight without a hassle or asking you to pay for it, actually. For a very long time, seeing Charles back felt like a bit of a fever dream, but now, it was actually confirmed that he was here, close enough that you’d get to breathe in the rubber and gas scent in his hair, mixed with the sweat he undeniably would be wringing out of his fireproofs. You were brought back to Charles and Charles was brought back to you.

Another volunteer flashed the QR code on your pass and let you past the VIP entrance. You were forbidden to actually enter the pitlane, which was fair to you as they were driving now, but you were welcome to roam in the paddock as much as you’d like. You have no idea who to bother to get inside the Ferrari garage and you had no idea if you were even allowed to do so, even though your pass did state Scuderia Ferrari. So you walked around, smiled at the few familiar faces of journalists you’d been watching for years and that you never thought you’d cross paths with, ever. But here you were. Silly little old you. Standing in the paddock, with your weekend bag on your shoulder, trying to navigate this space you had no idea how it worked.

“Hey, are you lost?” A voice rang beside you.

“Hey, hmm, yeah, it appears so,” You grimaced.

“First day in the paddock on your own?” The girl smiled.

“Exactly,” You shrugged. “I thought I could do this but I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do or where I’m supposed to go.”

“Who are you with?” She inquired, raising a hand gently and asking you silently if she could turn your pass around.

You nodded and let her inspect your pass, looking exactly like the one she had around her neck. She whistled at the sight of your host team and nodded without saying anything else.

“I was going to grab some water and go back to the garage, I can walk you to theirs, if you want?”

“Are you sure I’m allowed to enter the garage?” You frowned.

“Absolutely. That pass states you’re allowed to and Ferrari’s garage is nice in the sense that the guest space is separate from the actual garage space. You won’t bother them, don’t worry. Come on, follow me.”

You had no idea who this girl was but her friendly behavior and simple clothing put you at ease immediately. She was clad in a pair of light skinny jeans and a baby blue linen shirt that was so oversized on her it should have looked ridiculous, but she had tucked it inside her jeans and had rolled the sleeves up to her elbows, making her look sophisticated but not too much. She looked like a normal girl, just like you.

“So who are you visiting? Boyfriend? Brother? Cousin?”

“I’m not really sure what we are, actually..?” You offered.

“I see.. A guy you started to see but you haven’t had the talk with, yet.”

“Exactly,” You laughed. “What about you?”

“Boyfriend,” She grinned, walking up to the Red Bull hospitality. “I’m gonna pop in real quick, grab a bottle of water. You want something?”

“Can I get anything?”

“Sure! They don’t really care, to be honest. Journalists come all the time to get coffees,” She shrugged.

“I guess I could use a bottle of water. I wasn’t expecting it to be this hot.”

“Gotcha,” She smiled.

She waltzed in with the ease and grace of someone who’d done that a lot in the past, or at least, way more than you did. You didn’t know if that was something you were actually witnessing or if you were just somewhat admirative of her, at this point. She was so nice to you, it immediately made you her fan or whatever. She came back with three bottles of cool water and a bunch of candy bags that she shared with you with a conspicuous grin.

“So this guy you’re visiting, is he a mechanic or a strategist?” She asked.

“He’s actually.. Driving?” You grimaced.

“Oh wow!” Her eyes bulged out. “You’re with Charles?!”

“I am,” You blushed, struggling with the cap of the bottle of water before she grabbed it and opened it for you. “Thank you for that.”

“It’s okay, I’ve had my fair share of weird bottles I couldn’t open either. Wow, I can’t believe Charles didn’t tell me he was bringing you.”

“You know Charles?”

“I do! I’ve known him since he was like ten or twelve,” She grinned. “I’m Pierre’s girlfriend,” She introduced herself. “Those two are besties, so we’re bound to spend time together,” She laughed. “For the sake of you being in on the joke, everybody calls me Queenie. Don’t ask, Pierre is weird sometimes.”

“Well, I’m Y/N,” You laughed.

“Nice to meet you and welcome to the circus,” She offered. “I’d shake your hand but if I’m caught doing that, they’ll throw me out. They’re a bit strict with the sanitary measures, which is normal but it’s getting a bit tiring, to be honest.”

Your new friend walked you to the Ferrari garage where she entered without a care in the world. She left you at the guest area and wished you a nice time, making sure to tell you that she’d grab your Instagram from Pierre so you could contact her if you needed anything. She made you promise to not hesitate if you were in need of a friend and you swore you’d ring her if troubles appeared. She left you there with your bottle water and candies, and off to the last thirty minutes of free practice you were.

At some point, Charles parked in the garage and the mechanics twinkled with the car a bit, but he didn’t get out and since you weren’t front row, you were quite sure he didn’t see you in his mirrors. He was focused on his car, on the feedback he was giving to the mechanics, on the different data displayed on the screens placed in front of him by a couple of engineers. When the twenty minute deadline appeared on the screens, the tyre blankets were lifted off and away your favorite guy zoomed, leaving you watching him through the screens instead of trying to catch a glimpse of him in his car. You observed him race with a glimmer in your eyes, wondering how the heck human beings could be wired to try and be as fast. You relished in the loud noises of the engines, of the yells of the crowd and the constant buzz of the garage. You smiled as Charles’ times lit up in green, then when he set up purple sectors at some point. You grinned behind your facemask when he slotted himself at the third position, even if it was just free practice and couldn’t mean much yet. But your heart glowed and you were so freaking happy for your guy and to be that close that you didn’t care that Hamilton and Alonso finally ended up above his times.

Charles was P5 and came back to the garage in an even busier team, with mechanics buzzing around like bees in a hive. The garage started to empty down and soon enough, only a handful of people were left in the guest area, leaving you closer to him than you’ve been before. You studied him getting up from the car and wiggling himself out of it, before he unfastened the little clasp of his helmet and slid it off his head, ripping his balaclava from his head soon after. He went straight to the workbench and slid his helmet on the shelf with his name on it, snapping his gloves off and putting them away in the helmet.

And then his eyes finally cleared of the racing fog they were basking in, and he saw you, standing in the guest area, waiting for him to be done.

The initial shock rapidly turned into happiness and a giant grin split his face in two, showing you the beautiful smile you loved so much. He didn’t say a word but lightly jogged around the desk separating you from the rest of the garage and up in his arms you were, before you could even comprehend it. Your feet left the ground as he squished you against his chest. For the first time in your life, you heard a smile. It was audible in his breath, in his heartbeat, in his voice when he finally talked to you. You didn’t have to see it to know it was there. You loved that.

“Hi,” You whispered.

“Hi,” He answered just as quietly. “What are you doing here? I thought I was supposed to pick you up from Marseille?”

“I managed to get my afternoon off and change my flight,” You smiled back in his neck. “Surprise?”

“The best one,” He laughed.

As soon as your feet touched the ground, his lips were on your forehead, making you hum with delight. How you missed that contact of his mouth on your skin.

“I still have work to do, I can’t get out before at least 8 pm,” He grimaced. “People are gonna leave soon, but you’re welcome to sit in the garage with us or to go to my room,” He suggested.

“I’d like to stay with you, if that’s okay,” You blushed. “I did take a plane to see you, you know..”

“I know and I’m thrilled you’re here. I missed you,” He confirmed, throwing his arms around your shoulders and bringing you back closer to his chest. “It’s not as nice without you.”

“I’ll go to your room when you’ll go to the brief, is that okay?”

“The brief, huh?” He teased. “Someone studied my schedule?”

“You do send a lot of texts when you’re in those,” You teased back.

“Guilty as charged,” He grinned.

“Where’s your facemask, dummy? Don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“See, that’s why I missed you. You keep me in check.”

You laughed at him and he took your hand to make you walk around the desk that kept the guests away from the mechanics. He grabbed his facemask from his trainer, Andrea, who he introduced you to quickly after. Andrea was a nice guy, you’d learn, who liked to tease Charles endlessly and who didn’t dare do the same to you yet. Though he was easy to joke with, you’d find out that until he was entirely sure he wouldn’t be hurtful without wanting to, he’d refrain from actually teasing you too. Charles sat you on a stool next to the strategists. He told you not to touch any paper, otherwise you’d both be yelled at, but that you were free roam around the garage if you wanted to. You stuck to the stool, though, because you were terrified you’d actually impede on a mechanic’s job or you’d break something in a careless incident. You sat there, with your little bag on your lap, your suitcase having been brought to Charles’ driver room by the same Ferrari assistant that brought you back to the garage in Monaco and who brightened up when you thanked him by his name, as if he wasn’t really believing you actually remembered him. You watched Charles work, fascinated by the amount of information he was able to digest, analyze and process, giving back his own notes. At some point, Charles slipped a notebook in your hands and a pen and you thought he wanted you to have something to do, but you realized, somewhat in horror, that he meant for you to write some notes of what you heard and what he said.

“Can you write that, please?” Charles would ask.

And you looked at him with a distraught glaze, not even understanding a word of what just had been discussed.

“Sure. How do you write it, actually?”

“I have to go to the briefing now, Babe,” Charles whispered in your neck as you were almost dozing off on your stool. “You should go back to my room, lie on the couch, get some rest while you can. This weekend is gonna be tiring and you have work on Monday,” He grimaced.

And the mechanics would snicker, one would come to your help and spell it out, but no one even questioned the fact that you were in charge of taking the notes, like it was completely normal, like you were meant to do it.

Things quieted down after an hour and a half. The last settings to the cars were being made and Charles sat down next to you to discuss with the race strategists and engineers. He grabbed the notebook back, scribbled a few things down, slid it back to you and somewhat forgot that you were there. It’s not that he wasn’t happy that you were sat next to him, because if you trusted the hand on your thigh and the thumb running circles on your skinny jeans, you knew he acknowledged your presence and appreciated it. But Charles was deeply in his zone and you had to respect it. You had to respect that he had work to do and that you weren’t his priority right now, like he was yours. You realized that day that if a real relationship was to blossom between the two of you, then it would never be linear and equal. You would become a “girlfriend of” and you would have to make sacrifices. You would have to pick up the slate most of the time, because he wouldn’t have the time to do it himself. You would have to step up and be the one putting in the work when he was busy, when he couldn’t be the one to lift this relationship on his own.

And weirdly, that didn’t scare you one bit.

You were ready to do the hard work for Charles. You just hoped he was ready too.

“I can do this,” You mumbled sleepily.

“I know you can,” He giggled softly. “I just don’t want you to regret having been tired or even coming here. Go and have some rest, okay?”

“Okay,” You agreed.

“I’m sorry, I don’t usually sleep in here, I have nothing to take a nap,” He groaned.

Charles did walk you to his room, this offensively little room, this ridiculously small room. As soon as the door was closed, you got rid of your facemask, knowing nobody would be able to see you and that you wouldn’t endanger anyone. Charles’ subtle smile didn’t go unnoticed when he finally got to see your entire face and that made your heart soar a little bit.

You barely had enough space to fit three people in here but still, he made sure you were settled on the couch, that you had a blanket in the form of his oversized Ferrari jacket and that the knitted jumper he had come with that morning was rolled up just good enough to make a pillow.

“It’s perfect,” You tempered, kissing his cheek. “Go and have fun at your briefing.”

“I’d have way more fun here with you.”

“I know,” You smiled. “But you have work to do, so go on and be the boss.”

Charles kissed the tip of your nose and closed the door behind himself, letting you doze right back off until he finally would be back and you’d get him for an entire evening.

☀️

When your eyes slipped right back open, you were still draped with a too big-for-you Ferrari jacket that smelled like your favorite boy. The sun had set a while ago and the little room you were sleeping in was quiet, a stark contrast of the state it was about a few hours ago, when everything was noisy downstairs in the hospitality. You knew most of the people had left already and you knew Charles was soon to come back to you, if you trusted the text that lit up your phone’s screen, which had been sent about fifteen minutes prior to your awakening.

Right as you stretched underneath the jacket and brought it back to your face, the door slid open quietly and Charles’ silhouette appeared in the sill, a shadow shaped in the man you liked and your lips thinned into a smile.

“Hey there, sleeping beauty,” Charles whispered. “Ready to go back to the hotel?”

“Yes, please,” You yawned. “What time is it?”

“It’s almost half past nine, you slept for quite a bit.”

“At least I’ll have some energy for tomorrow,” You shrugged, the jacket sliding from your chest as you sat back up.

“I got a small surprise for you,” Charles grinned. “Come on, let’s get back to the hotel.”

The drive back to the hotel Ferrari had booked for the weekend was short but you got to see quite a bit of scenery, just as you did when you climbed the hills on your way to the track. Charles’ hands sneaked on your thigh and your fingers interlaced with his on your denim clad leg and suddenly, the rest of the world didn’t matter. You were driving in a gorgeous Ferrari, with your favourite guy behind the wheels, the warm breeze blowing your hair and with a view that left you breathless. Why would you care about anything else?

The hotel was small but packed with Ferrari personnel. Charles led you to his room and helped you unpack a little, grinning at the array of sundresses you’d picked for the weekend. He handed you the little white dress with a red floral pattern that was waiting for you and kindly asked if you’d wear it tonight, for the surprise he had planned. You laughed at his hopeful look and grabbed the piece of clothing, promising you’d do your best after a quick shower, to which he answered he would take the second round and slip in the bathroom right after you.

You almost offered for him to join but swallowed the invitation, not knowing how well it would be received. You didn’t know whether you were ready or not but you knew you trusted him and you trusted your mind to take you to the right place on this one. When the time would be right, you’d know.

When Charles came out of the bathroom, he was wearing a white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled on his forearms and a pair of jeans that hugged him right in the right places.

“Looking good,” You smiled, rising on your tiptoes to plant a kiss on his lips.

“Said the most gorgeous human I’ve ever seen,” He teased back. “I’m so glad you took that dress in your suitcase,” He hummed, his hands grabbing the material on your hips to bring you closer to him. “You’re pretty.”

You didn’t have time to smile at the childish compliment. You knew the fact that he said “pretty” came from his still tentative English at times, but you loved the idea that he sounded like a little boy in love.

Love.

The idea flirted in your mind for a couple of seconds.

Was whatever this was, it? Was it Love? You didn’t know much about it. You certainly had been infatuated before, you couldn’t lie that you had pined quite a lot over Harrison, though you couldn’t even fathom why, these days. You’d had a few boyfriends over the years, you’d had relationships, some more serious than others. Not that you collected men like stamps, but you knew your last relationships had not been as special as whatever this was.

There was a magic to this that you couldn’t quite place. There was this buzzing anticipation of his fingers meeting any part of your skin that they could find, there was this comfort of knowing that somebody on this earth was happy and excited to see you, that they counted the days before they could get back to you. There was this knowing feeling of belonging somewhere and to someone, in a different way than your family or friends.

There was something more that you couldn’t quite process yet and that you couldn’t live without anymore.

Charles was bringing something new to the table and you loved that.

“So, what are your plans, racer boy?” You grinned against his cheek.

“I’m taking you to dinner outside. Let’s enjoy the weather we have, for as long as we have it.”

“Is there rain forecasted?”

“Quite a bit for tomorrow. I’m not looking forward to that.”

“How wet do you get when it rains?”

“Honestly? The suits are okay and we’re quite compacted into the cars, so not a lot of water gets to us, but the amount that does? It freaking sucks.”

You grimaced, knowing how uncomfortable it must be to drive under the wet conditions for hours, in a damp racesuit. When you’d get caught in the rain, it was already annoying. So to sit down in your own puddle of sweat, rain and spray for the cars in front? Dreading.

Charles had planned this dinner quite well. The restaurant was the one of the hotel, he couldn’t quite justify going out on a racing weekend, but you loved the background of it all and couldn’t care less about it. He could have taken you out to a fast food chain restaurant and you still would have been happy about it. Andrea had studied the menu and he knew what to get. He also had found a way to ask for a table outside, near the pool and you loved that you were sitting in a secluded area that felt like it was a little secret. The night had come and the sun was hiding well below the horizon as you sat at the table, after Charles dragged your chair away from the table and helped you sit. A couple of candles had been lit and a few strings of light bulbs casted a golden glow on the terrace of the hotel, where only a few people were sitting. You smiled at him as he sat in front of you and he gave you the drinks menu, to which you stuck your tongue at him for.

He couldn’t drink during a racing weekend and you knew it.

The meal was simple enough that you didn’t feel like you were out of place but it was good enough to leave you in a food coma by the end of dessert. Charles had been delightful in terms of company and you were glad you’d hopped into the plane earlier than planned, so you could have enjoyed your time together a bit more. You two had talked about the race, about the area you were in and what there was to see but that you wouldn’t see in the end because you couldn’t, because there was no time. There had been touches on the top of the tablecloth and beneath it as well, when your sandal came to graze the leg of his jeans, which made him grin more than you thought could be possible. And when nothing seemed to be possible anymore, when you thought you had exhausted all the happenings of the night, Life reminded you to never expect anything.

You chose a rosé wine and showed him the line that you wanted, which he ordered in French, leaving you breathless and more in awe than you’ve ever been. And you’d seen him race before. But there was something nice about hearing him talk French and you loved that he seemed so much more confident in himself in his native tongue. He carried himself differently in French and that left you wondering if maybe you should pick up a few French words so he’d be able to relax on his days off and just speak whatever language came to mind.

Food for thoughts for another day. For now, you had a nice guy to spend the evening with and to appreciate.

“I thought I’d heard your disgusting laugh,” a voice boomed behind you, making you jump slightly in your chair.

“You’re the worst,” Charles grinned. “Pierre, this is Y/N. Y/N, let me introduce you properly to Pierre, the bane of my existence but also, my best friend.”

“Nice to meet you. I heard great things about you,” Pierre smiled.

“Nice to meet you too,” You grinned. “I can’t quite repay the compliment, the only thing I heard was that you’re pretty weird,” You laughed.

“Let me guess. My girlfriend tattled on me again?” He groaned.

“I’m afraid she did. Lovely girl, though!”

“That she is,” He smiled softly, a loving look adorning his features for a second.

“She’s waiting on me to go back to our own hotel, but we wanted to try the restaurant here.”

“Pierre and his girl have this habit of trying restaurants, even though she only eats pasta and french fries,” Charles explained.

“Don’t even start,” Pierre mumbled. “Leave her alone, she’s fine.”

“I never said she wasn’t, I’m just saying, if you’re testing restaurants, at least have different meals?”

“Hey hey hey, I didn’t say shit when you were all lovey dovey in my texts planning your romantic weekend here, did I?” Pierre teased. “Leave us be, you douchebag.”

“See? I told you. The bane of my existence,” Charles joked.

“I won’t take up more of your time, it was really nice to meet you. Please send me a DM on Instagram, I’d love to chat and get to know you better. Also, I’ve been told to retrieve your username so you could chat with my nutcase of a girlfriend,” He shrugged. “She kinda liked you.”

“I kinda liked her too,” You smiled. “I’ll do that before going to bed, promise. I could use a friendly face in the paddock.”

“I didn’t know you’d met her,” Charles smiled.

“She led me to the Ferrari garage and got me a water bottle,” You shrugged. “She was super nice, while I was just.. Super lost.”

“That’s the usual, don’t worry,” Pierre reassured you, squeezing your shoulder. “You’ll see, by the end of the weekend, it’ll feel better.”

“If you say so.”

“Sorry I can’t stay longer and get to properly introduce myself, I’ll slide in your DMs as soon as I get yours!”

“Your girlfriend will love that.”

“Is that a hint of jealousy I can see coloring your cheeks, Charlie?” Pierre laughed. “Come on. You know I’m taken already, I already told you, I see you as a friend, I’m sorry.”

“Get the fuck out of here,” Charles scoffed. “You’re bothering us.”

Pierre didn’t stay long after that, he had places to be, people to go back to. You laughed at him flipping his middle finger to his best friend and let Charles take a breath back. He looked tired, which you knew was an after effect of the hard day of work he had just put out. His eyes were glossy with fatigue, a lazy droop coming out, and you suddenly felt a bit guilty for keeping him up.

“Are you ready to go to bed, Charles?”

“Yes,” He breathed out, in a small voice.

That night, you slept with the window open, listening to the cicadas and the dull lull of the wind in the pine trees, wrapped in the arms of a guy you couldn’t imagine your days without, anymore.

☀️

Qualis didn’t go well and the weather had been a bit chaotic, to say the least. Charles struggled to slot himself on the seventh line of the grid, while Pierre took out the sixth. As promised, you did send a message to Pierre’s instagram, which got you a nice invitation to let him follow you back, followed quickly by his girlfriend’s. You had chatted a bit with the girl during the morning, while she was stuck in Alpha Tauri’s ground and you were at Ferrari’s, which had got you a string of shocked emojis when she found your best friend “is actually Spider-Man, oh my God”. You laughed at the usual reaction you got when people saw certain of your posts but she didn’t dwell too much on it, only commenting once on it.

“Pierre is gonna freak out when he sees that,” She had sent.

“Why?”

“Because he knows how much I love Peter Parker. The character, I mean. I’m also partial to Steve Rogers AND Chris Evans. I won’t even lie to you.”

You had laughed quite a lot at that, because you couldn’t deny the chokehold Chris Evans had on everyone, you included if you were completely honest. You wouldn’t tell her that you did meet Chris once and he had been absolutely lovely. There was no way you would put Pierre through that too.

Charles had managed to wrap his work a bit earlier than the day before, since the qualis had ended a bit sooner and since the weather had decided to be a bit less dumb, he had brought you to the beach, where you had spent a couple of hours, having a picnic for dinner and walking to the waves hands in hands. He had brought you back to the hotel a bit earlier than planned, which had you in your bathing suit and in the hotel pool, since the weather allowed it now after a good rain pour during the afternoon.

You sat on the ledge, admiring the view of the pine trees around the hotel and appreciating a rare moment of quietness while Charles was floating closer and closer to you in the water, eyes closed and breathing deeply. His shoulders were still sporting the marks of the suit and the hans device, his cheeks were slowly losing the lines of his balaclava, but you could see the stress slowly being washed away by the small waves you kept creating by waddling your feet on the surface of the pool.

“You okay, Charles?” You softly asked after a deep sigh.

“I couldn’t be better,” He smiled, eyes still closed. “Or actually, I could,” He ended up muttering, reopening his eyes and swimming next to you, a grin eating his face more and more as he got closer to you.

Charles finally made his way next to you in the pool and leveraged himself up to sit next to you. Then he slid on his side and without you seeing his next move, rested his back on the ground and his head on your thighs.

“Now I’m in paradise,” He grinned, looking up at you like a little boy.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying your time,” You laughed.

“How could I not? You’re here. And you’re a comfortable pillow, I can add.”

“It’s ‘might I add’,” You teased. “You’re cute when your English is all fumbled.”

“That’s because you keep messing with my brain!”

“I’m not doing anything!” You defended yourself, giggling nonetheless.

“You’re looking all cute and lovely, it keeps distracting me,” He mumbled. “Now shush, I need to rest.”

As he closed his eyes, you observed him and took the time to appreciate the way the sun kept hitting the little freckles beneath his eyes and the shadows casted by his eyelashes on top of his cheekbones. Charles had always been pretty to you, but as the golden hour started and the reflection of the little waves in the pool lit his face up, you wondered what he must have done in a previous life to be that blessed by nature. You knew the entire brotherhood to be nice looking. There was no denying that the good genes had spread amongst the Leclerc brothers, but there was something special with Charles, with all the little flaws that made his face perfect in every way.

“Are you happy?” Charles mumbled from below.

“I am,” You smiled, even though he couldn’t see it. Your index finger traced the bridge of his nose, running to the tip. “You?”

“Incredibly happy,” He confirmed, turning his head slightly so he could drop a kiss on your stomach.

You knew your time with Charles was always running out. You only had less than twenty-four hours with him, including the race tomorrow, and then you’d have to take another plane back to London, back to your grey apartment, leaving the golden light of the South of France to Charles. You already missed him and he was still lying across your lap.

Scrunching over him, you dropped a tiny kiss on the top of his nose and his lips stretched in a lazy smile, before puckering up, demanding a kiss which you offered without complaint. Your left hand came to contact with the ground, supporting your weight, while your right one found its place in his hair, playing with the still wet strands.

“Do you feel confident for the race tomorrow?”

“Not really,” He sighed. “But I’ll do what I can, as always.”

“I’ll be cheering for you from the garage,” You promised.

“That’s all that matters, this weekend. You’re all that matters.”

“Liar,” You grinned.

“Okay, maybe you’re all that matters right now. I can’t promise when I’ll be in the car.”

“That’s more like it.”

“M’gonna miss you,” Charles finally admitted.

“M’gonna miss you more,” You nodded, tracing circles on his scalp.

“Are you coming to Silverstone?”

“I’m trying to find tickets,” You confirmed.

“Can you be my guest again?”

“I’m trying to get my dad in,” You grimaced. “He hasn’t been to a race yet.”

“Seriously?” Charles frowned. “Why?”

“Dunno. It never really happened, I guess? It’d be nice to get him to Silverstone. So if I get a paddock pass, I need one for my dad as well.”

“Done deal,” Charles mumbled again, closing his eyes back. “Consider you and your dad to be my guests.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I do. Because I like you and at some point, I’m gonna meet your dad.”

“You don’t have to meet him during a racing week. You’ll be busy already, you’ll have tons on your mind,” You tried to temper.

“I don’t think it’ll matter a lot whether I meet him in Silverstone or in six months,” He countered. “The sooner the better.”

Six months. You hadn’t really looked past this weekend, taking every day with Charles as some kind of blessing. But he was fully invested, he was fully in. He was planning a future with you. He was thinking about it. And you loved it.

“If you say so,” You smiled.

“So, will you and your dad be my guests in Silverstone?”

“We will,” You confirmed. “I can’t wait to surprise him with that. He’s gonna kiss the ground you walked on, you know that?” You giggled.

“Let’s not do that. Not very clean.”

“It’s an image, you silly,” You laughed. “I meant he’s gonna think you’re the coolest, nicest, most amazing guy.”

“Cool. No need for me to stress about it, then?”

“Absolutely not,” You promised, hunching down again to kiss him. “He already likes you, you know? He thinks you’re the best driver on the grid right now. And you’re with Ferrari. So you’re automatically in his good book.”

“Nice,” Charles smiled. “Can’t wait to meet him.”

“Can’t wait either,” You grinned.

You stayed there, watching the small waves in the pool, while Charles kept one of his legs waddling in the water. Your right hand kept drawing circles on his scalp while his had crept above his head, finding a spot on your calves, gently caressing your skin. The sun was lowering on the horizon line, the warmth of it slowly decreasing as well.

When finally it became obvious that you both were cold, there was nothing much else to do than to pack everything up, grab dinner and find your way back to the hotel room. Charles was nowhere near accepting the fact that it was time to get up, his head still comfortably resting on your thighs and his lips occasionally finding your stomach.

It was up to you to take matters into your own hands.

“Hey, Charles?” You whispered.

“Yeah?”

“I think it’s time you take me back to that hotel room of ours.”

Nothing could match the brightness of his grin when he opened his eyes and looked into yours, finding the confirmation he needed.

“Understood, Ma’am.”

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8

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[pupuceplus]

I Edited and added some informations ^^ since I wrote it.

I have to talk a bit more about the ‘eyewitness’s french adaptation. I’m crazy about it. Usually I’m not into french version but this one is the exception.

I love how they portrayed Yann ( who is Phillip in eyewitness US version )

He is a bit different than Phillip US version ( I love both portrayals by the way. So here in France, he is called Yann. His mother is a junkie too, But his foster parents are composed of his uncle. An uncle who wasn’t there for him and his mother most of his life... + his wife, Hélène, who is a gendarme. (It’s a military police type.)  His uncle is a dogs breeder by the way.

The dogs are so cute and fluffly and of course Yann has a lovely relashionship with one ^^

Let’s back to Yann. His character is awesome. Like Phillip he kisses Lucas ( Lukas in USA version ). First unlike Lukas, Lucas is surprised but doesn’t reject him. They are best friends since Yann came to his fosters parents ‘s house and you can see Lucas is into Yann before the first kiss. They don’t ignore each other at school either. But Yann has a bad reputation and he is not liked. He is judged as  a violent type of guy.

He did push violently a guy who talked bad about Lucas. The whole fight was filmed by cellphone and when Lucas found about it , he was pissed. Because he doesn’t need a shiny armor savior and he doesn’t want to be labelled as a weirdo like his friend.

It’s where i love Yann’s portrayal, he is matured ( like phillip ) but clearly he is bossy, fierce and delivers punchlines that cuts deep when he wants. He is still a lonely kid and an hurt kid who goes through too much for his young age. But damn, when he needs to be, he doesn’t let people off of the hook that easily. 

He is more patient with Lucas of course but sometimes you can see, he clearly wants to struggle him lol in cute way. He is clearly dumbfound by Lucas ‘s logic most of the time . ^^  

Oh a major change is there was someone who took pictures of them in that cabin ( so a third witness ) who wants money from Lucas to keep his mouth shut. Lucas is in a panic mode, when Yann is more eager to find who that person is and doesn’t want to pay the anonymous person.

There this scene where Lucas stole 2000 euros (2444 dollars  from his father and he told it to Yann after Yann asked abruptly (not even an Hi! to begin with, just where did you get that money ?” , Lucas was all proud and smiling because of what he succeed to do and Yann is pissed and said with a bossy voice and a very I’m not joking look in his eye :

“And this make you laugh “ so bossy that Lucas stops smiling immediately. You don’t mess up with a dead serious Yann. And most of the time, Lucas prefered to stop talking and go back to his home than deal with Yann than to escalade the fight ( and Yann  is always right even if he doesn’t have the solutions to their problems ). And Yann is trying hard to respect Lucas ‘s wish to not pressure him. 

Of course the story is more of less the same ( Oh lucas ‘s mother overheared Yann and Lucas talking about being gay and how Lucas kissed Yann ). Yeah Lucas’s mother is still alive in this version . He has still his father too ( who is not really happy about his son friendship with the “bad boy “ from town ).

Yann is so great.  when Lucas is mad at him for telling about the gun and rejects his offer to talk to him in private in front of his friends ;And his friends are all ready to film a fight between them and put more fire . Yann looks straight to Lucas, bossy voice , fierce eyes and say to Lucas

“No problem I can talk here. I don’t care” Then turn his head to the annoying  lucas’s friend and say menacing “ you, shut the fuck up “ and of course he does shup up. Lucas immediately agrees to talk in private with Yann and also tell his friend to let them be. 

the scene when Hélène and His uncle send him to talk to a psychiatrist is so well done, how he does nothing to help . Mostly saying “ I ‘ll pass “ to the doctor’s questions and even add “ god, you are annoying me, I’ll pass “ and then in the car, Hélène says , she thinks Lucas and him can still be friend and he continues to say “ I’ll pass” 

Another major change is that when everybody abandon Yann ( Helène and his uncle , Yann has this masterpiece line when he said to the social worker, that if he was a dog, he ‘ll be left in the breeder’s barn with the unwanted and unsold dogs ) and of course Lucas kissed a girl at a party .(Lucas has no girlfriend in this version ). Yann  really had enough, got drunk and even drunk like hell , he is still pissed at how Lucas dealed with the blackmailrs’ guy and the revelation about it ( he was lucas’s dad employee, a year ago , lucas found out this guy used his dad ‘s cabin to hide some packages ( he didn’t know it was drugs from the gangs ) and since his dad’s employée told him to shut up and gave him some canabis time to time in exchange for the silence he never said anything ). So yeah, even in despair, ,all drunk, Yann is still really pissed about that;  it ‘s cute.( by the way, the blackmail guy died in a shooting later )

He refused to answer Helene ‘s calls and Lucas ‘s calls ( Who feels like shit for being so shitty at Yann ) and he is walking inside a railroad, and then train is coming right behind him , give the sound alert for the boy and major change is , that he is closing his eyes and fall . We don’t know if he collapsed from his drunken state or deliberately tried to suicide. I rewatched the scene and i think he did try to suicide.

miracle he endsup only with his head hurt a bit because of the impact of the rocky ground and the train was too large to cut him in pieces when it passed over his body. So he ended up safe.

Next day, a worried Lucas learns that Yann almost died and wants to leave, he goes straight to bring the gun to Helene

Next eps and finals episodes next week 

oh by the way, the killer did see clearly Yann’s face (only Yann’s ) and Yann and Lucas did see clearly the killer ‘s face too. There was this intense scene, when the killer was waiting in frontp of their school to see if the young boy was there. And Lucas saw him and goes straight to alert Yann they have to find a way to escape by another way than the school’s front door.

they tried to avoid hanging up in town, because they know the killer is outhere searching for them. 

Lucas who is looking to Yann in next eps teaser, I can’t wait to watch it.

About Lucas, he is really most of the time in panic mode, in the closet, in denial , really hurt that Yann betrayed him, wants to hurt him back on the same level he is hurting but still unable to hate him. He almost cried when Helene told him ,Yann was missing. But since he was drunk and very good at lying he manages not too.

even hurt , you can still see he cares about Yann more than he wants.  You see he is missing being with Lucas, but he can bring himself to forgive him until of course he found out about the train, the news that he wants to leave and probably understand, that Yann wasn’t as strong than he thought and that Yann also needed Lucas to be there for him like Yann was for him. 

When they barely talked and Yann told Lucas , he cares about him ( twice ). You can see he doesn’t want to hear it because Yann ‘s feeling for him touched him so strongly and it’s too complicated for him to handle the emotions.

the pair is so well balanced. Because Lucas can be rough and commanding but Yann is an iron fist in a velvet glove. He doesn’t back up. They both have their own fragility. Lucas can only be be himself with Yann and Yann is more carefree with Lucas ( until the murders at least ). 

What i also loves is that they were fighting about what to tell , what not to, they felt comfortable fighting with each other. Really they are an item.

[nobravery]

The Blood in the Rose | 1

« PROLOGUE || CHAPTER 2 »

A/N: Here’s Chapter 1 already. Lol. Also check the numbers/notes!

Warning: Description of corpse.

WordCount: 2,247

       Nineteen past six in the morning. Telephone.

       “Fontana, I'm listening.”

       “Yea, it's me,” her assistant replied on the phone. “Sorry, no rest today, a corpse has been found Place de la Concorde, the État-Major0 just called me. The IJ1 guys are already on the spot. I'm with Beauchamp, we're on our way. Maybe we can pick you up at your place?”

       “What, how so, since when you are the one who’s called?”

       “Apparently, you didn’t pick up the phone.”

       “What a good day in perspective. No, go ahead, I'll join you there in fifteenish minutes. I'll be prompt. See ya.”

       Jordan Fontana hung up and noticed two missing calls from the Ètat-Major. Fuck. She jumped out of bed as fast as she could. She'd been working at the Brigade Criminelle2 in Paris for four years and as a group leader for one year. With an IQ of 172, she had moved up through the hierarchy quite quickly, considering she had graduated high school at fourteen and then had gotten her MAs in Law, History and Psychology six years later, and afterwards her PhDs in Criminology and Engineering two years after. Originally from the United States through her mother, she was following her father's steps, ex-Chief Superintendent at la Crim'2, and ex-FBI agent. Just like him, she entered the FBI as a Special Agent at the Behavior Analysis Unit after having followed her training at the FBI Academy. She'd been staying at the BAU for four years, but had to give up her job due to her father's unsolved murder in 2009. Since then, she had definitively settled in Paris and got a job at the 363, and had eventually been promoted to the rank of Commandant three years later. In spite of her young age, her skills had never been reassessed and mostly worked with her second de groupe4 and good friend, captain Nicolas Mercier, a thirty-nine-year-old cop, originally from Lille, North of France. He had started his career in Toulouse, then used to work at the Brigade des Stupéfiants5 also known as the Stups before being appointed at la Crim' five years ago now.

       After her colleague's call, Jordan hurried to get ready, bruhsed her long brown hair, got dressed carefully although hastily and left two minutes afterwards.

       Within a quarter of an hour later, she got out off her car, a grey Mercedes C320 CDI W204 that she cherished and called Valentine, and headed to the crime scene which was now secure, where Mercier was already waiting for her, blue police flashing lights dancing all around the place. It was still dark, at this time.

       “Good mornin', Commandant,” the latter teased. “First time you're late.”

       “Very funny,” Fontana retorted, slipping her armband on. “I just hope that the staff doesn’t bear a grudge against me. Nevermind, where do we stand? What do we have?”

       “Bouvier just briefed me this instant. I waited for you for the rest. Nothing good, really not, come see this by yourself. This is Laura Delacour, seventeen. She was still living at her parents' home. They had reported her disappearance five days ago. Her photo has been circulating a bit everywhere. She had gone to a birthday party and had to go back home at twoish in the morning, just like her parents had ordered, but she never got back. No news since. It's the guy over there who found her first, along with other passers-by, around six in the morning. They're still in a state of shock. But, you're gonna understand why once you'll have seen what we're dealing with.”

       Jordan had a quick look at the main witness, a certain M. Girard who must be about sixty, questioned by the young lieutenant Éric Belmont, one of their colleagues and cinquième de groupe5, while others OPJ6 were questioning the other persons who found the corpse plus the ones who were on the spot.

       “The guy genuinely passed the enclosure to drop off the body there,” Mercier went on. “He had a hell of a nerve, this chap.”

       “A seventeen-year-old kid who goes back home, alone, in the middle of the night? It doesn't really surprise me that something bad happened to her.”

       “I really appreciate your optimism, Fontana. Perhaps she was accompanied by someone but then their paths diverged?”

       “That's our job to determine this.”

       Jordan observed the place, gone through with a fine-tooth comb by the specialists of the Identité Judiciaire by photographing the place, searching of possible clues; then the two agents joined Doctor Bouvier, the medical examiner dispatched to the scene, still examining the body—at least, what it remained—, along with Prévost, one of the Identité Judiciaire specialist. The corpse was lying at the bottom of the Obelisk of Louxor, sitting on the ground. Bare and lacerated from all sides, the victim, whose long brown hair was tousled and covered with blood droplets, had her abdomen completely open. Her bowels were removed, as well as her liver and her stomach, put down by her side. Bowels and stomach on the right, liver on the left. I don't like this at all, Jordan was thinking.

       “So, what do you say about that?” she asked Bouvier.

       “Look, the carotid has clearly been severed, what definitely caused the death. Also, at first sight, the girl has been tortured. And not only a bit, it's obvious. The lacerations seem to be ante-morten and the killer surely used only one weapon, whether it's for the carotid, the lacerations, or the evisceration. As for the face, some mutilations as well, at the cheeks and the forehead; but this is truly nothing compared with all the ones all along the body. For the rest, you need to wait for the autopsy.”

       “The killer has been really violent with her. It may be personal,” suggested Mercier. “When may the death date back at?”

       Bouvier pulled a face at the question, somewhat embarrassed.

       “At first sight and considering rigor mortis, I'd say she died two or three days ago. To be confirmed.”

       “And she was left there only this night?” Mercier questioned.

       “Visibly.”

       “And also, Commandant, Captain, we found this, just next to her.” Prévost added.

       The latter reached out a packet to Commandant Fontana in which one of the only exhibits who've been found: a rose, with bright red petals.

       Mercier frowned.

       “What the heck is this?” he wondered about what he was looking at, intrigued.

       “Bah, a rose,” his leader answered nonchalantly, and she seemed as intrigued as him.

       “Thank you, Jordan, I think I've noticed it. Where does this come from?”

       “It was placed next to the stomach,” the crime scene technician objected. “The killer certainly must have let it there intentionally. However, I don't know what it can mean. I mean, I suppose that it's your job to find the answer to the question.”

       Fontana gave the packet back to him.

       “His hallmarks,” she interpreted, speaking more for herself than to the others.

       It's a bad sign.

       “Well, thanks Doctor. Thanks, Prévost.”

       “Commandant, Captain.” Bouvier and Prévost said goodbye to them in accord.

       Together, Commandant Fontana and Captain Mercier moved away from the others, isolating themselves, after having said goodbye to their turn. Mercier had a quick look at his colleague, who seemed to be lost in thought.

       “I can see that your brain is working hard. It's lively, right? C'mon, tell me what you're thinking of.”

       “I think we're dealing with a great sadist,” Jordan declared. “And it's just a euphemism.”

       “I know right? In every case, I've never seen that kind of stuff before. A real carnage! And the rose, what does that even mean? Have you already seen cases as squalid as this?”

       “Hm, as regards the rose, I haven't a clue, Nico. You know, I haven't worked very long at the BAU but in four years, I've seen a bunch of creepy things, even worse than this, believe me. I complained of not having some breakfast this morning, in the end, I'm not hungry anymore.”

      The two police officers were joined by Belmont, who just gathered M. Girard’s statement.

       “Well, M. Girard, don't hesitate to come back at us if you ever remember something either important or not regarding our investigation,” Fontana said, saying bye to the witness, smiling. “Éric, bring him out of the place, please.”

       “Fine, Commandant. By the way, the Boss asked to see you. He just arrived, he's with Le Guen.”

       “Oh no, that's all I needed. I'm coming.”

       Jordan spotted the boss of la Crim', Chief Superintendent Lafarge, and she headed for him, while Belmont rejoined the other OPJ.

       “Monsieur le Commissaire Divisionnaire7,” she said as she approached him.

       “Commandant,” Lafarge replied to her, shaking hands with her after leaving the procédurier8 Le Guen. “Nasty case, right? Poor kid…”

       The two officers gazed at the place with their eyes. Everybody, policemen and gendarmes alike, plus scientists, had been mobilized this early morning as part of the murder of Laura Delacour. An underage, all everyone needed!

       “Apparently you wanted to see me?”

       “Indeed. Nothing serious, I reassure you.”

       “What is it about then?”

       Lafarge took his breath.

       “Do you feel capable of working on this case? I can entrust it to Schneider's group, if it's all right with you. I'm aware that you're also taken by the murder of Caroline Corvalan, therefore if you ever…”

       “No, thank you. It's gonna be alright for me. I guess the other groups have their work cut out too, anyway. Don't worry, Mister,” Fontana assured him. “I'm handling.”

       The police superintendent nodded.

       “Fine, it's you who's saying it. I count on you. We're meeting tonight at the 36 for the briefing of the day. I need to go now, the Proc'9 doesn't like when we make him wait.”

       “Of course. Have a good day, Commissaire.”

       “Likewise, Commandant.”

       Jordan weakly smiled at him before her boss goes away. She then rejoined Mercier, who was a few meters away, in full discussion with two other colleagues.

       “Ah, Jo, what did the boss want?” he asked while the two others were going back to work.

       “Oh nothing, just asked if it would be okay.”

       “What, the case? What a question; you're the best, and he knows it. Of course it's going to be okay.”

       “Hum hum, yes.”

       Fontana pouted.

       “Well, that's enough joking,” Mercier continued. “The killer has had the devil's own cheek to abandon the body there, don't you think?”

       “Obviously, everyone needs to see his masterpiece. Certainly what he wants.”

       “What a crazy guy.”

       Fontana lingered at the place, observing and analyzing everything that was going on around her, frowning; she was having her back to her assistant.

       “Yeah, have you seen the fierceness, the thuggery?”

       “Yah, I saw the same thing as you. This is definitely a crime of the utmost savagery. Never seen this in my life.”

       “It makes me think of Guy Georges.”

       “What, the Beast of the Bastille? It was a long time ago, no? When was it? And what's the connection? He didn't eviscerate his victims, as far as I know.”

       “First victim of Guy Georges, the night of the twenty-fourth of January 1991, Pascale Escarfail, and the last one, Estelle Magd, the sixteenth of November 1997, so indeed, it's been a while. But I was more talking about the savagery. I mean, look at kid right now, no kidding.”

       The police captain glanced at the young girl's body which was just covered.

       “As for me, it rather makes me think of Jack the Ripper, but well, everyone has their own point of view.”

       “Hum, in every case, it smells trouble,” Fontana muttered.

       “What?”

       “What? Oh nothing, I was just… thinking, yah.”

       Mercier didn't insist more and eventually contented himself with this answer, and his gaze fell on the OPJ who were still questioning the people around. As regard Jordan, she spotted the deputy public prosecutor, Bertrand Mousset, and headed for him to talk to him.

       A bit later, the IJ technicians started packing up their equipment. Pelletier, one of them, came to meet the two investigators. Usually always beaming and in a good mood, he seemed somewhat preoccupied and disappointed this time; reaction which displeased the group leader and her assistant.

       “Other clues?” Mercier hastened to ask him.

       “Actually, not much except the rose, Captain. Just some skin micro-fragments taken from certain stakes of the enclosure, but it might have no connection with our case; that said, we're gonna send them to the lab' though. Otherwise, no hair… It looks like our unsub made sure to not leave anything behind him.”

       Fontana remained perplexed.

       “Super, it begins well.”

       “Yeah, not surprising that the case was referred to la Crim',” commented her assistant. “By the way, what does Mousset say about that?”

       “Oh, you know him,” Fontana grumbled. “He says goddamn nothing.”

       All of them sighed.

       “Considering that the kid seems not to have been killed here, it was almost sure that we wouldn't find anything there, the IJ technician spoke, kinda annoyed. Well, I'm gonna deal with the report and I'll pass all that to you. I'm warning you straight away, it's no picnic. We'll be in touch.”

       “Thanks, but don't leap to conclusions, Pelletier, right!”

       While the latter was moving away, Jordan turned towards her colleague.

       “Fine Nico, we need to inform Laura's parents that we found their daughter. They must be still at their home at this time. Let's go.”

       “OK, it's not going to be joy. Can you imagine that? I wouldn't like to be told that someone has killed my child…”

       As the two agents got in Fontana's car, she dialed a number on her phone, then waited for an answer.

       “Hello, Bailly? Commandant Fontana on the phone. Yes, I'm fine, thanks, what about you? Okay, good. Tell me, could you find and send me Laura Delacour's parents' address? Super, you rock, thank you, see ya later!”

0État-Major : basically the staff.

1IJ = Identité Judiciaire : can be translated has Judiciary Identity in English. It's to do with the scientific police. Their work, on criminal cases, consists in gathering, keeping and showing elements of proof, and coordinating their skills with the investigating officer's in charge of the case and the expert witnesses's.

2Brigade Criminelle = the BC = la Crim' : the oldest and probably most famous brigade, especially in charge of homicides, kidnapping, bomb attacks and investigations involving personalities (such as Lady Di's car accident in August 1997).

3the 36 = literally the 36, Quai des Orfèvres : the Direction Régionale de Police Judiciaire de Paris (DRPJ Paris) is very often called by its address (it's actually the former one, now the brigades have moved to 36, rue du Bastion in September 2017, except the Brigade de Recherche et d'Intervention, aka BRI (Research and Intervention Brigade) aka l'Antigang (Anti-Gang Brigade)).

4second de groupe : there's no proper translation but as a definition we can say that a second de groupe is very often the assistant (just like Mercier in the story) of the investigating officer in charge of the case (who is most of the time a commandant). As well for troisième de groupe (third of the group), quatrième de groupe (fourth of the group), cinquième de groupe (fifth of the group)… as long as la Crim' is composed by three groups of common right, groups themselves composed by seven or eight police officiers. Just remember that the cinquième de groupe and sixième de groupe (sixth of the group) not to say septième de groupe (seventh of the group) are the ripeurs (no English translation existing), that is to say that they are at first in charge of neighborhood investigations and stuff.

5Brigade des Stupéfiants = les Stups : brigade specialized in drug trafficking.

6OPJ = Officier de Police Judiciaire : basically a Criminal Police Officer.

7Commissaire Divisionnaire : French for Chief Superintendent.

8procédurier : no English translation existing as far as I know. This is basically an OPJ in charge of transcribing in writing all the steps of the investigation. There's like one procédurier per group.

9le Proc' = le Procureur (de la République) : basically the State Prosecutor.

taglist: @spencerthepipecleaner @i-keep-craving-craving

[retlub43]

French supermarket siege: gendarme dies after taking place of hostage

Number of victims stands at 4 after death in health center of Lt Col Arnaud Beltrame following attacks in Carcassonne, southern France

A gendarme who exchanged himself for a captive throughout the French grocery store siege has actually passed away, bringing the variety of victims to 4. Authorities shot dead the enemy after a series of attacks declared by Islamic State in Carcassonne, southern France, that culminated in the three-hour hostage-taking.

The enemy, called as Redouane Lakdim, 25, was born in Morocco and resided in Carcassonne. He was understood to authorities for minor criminal offenses and drug-dealing. The state district attorney Franois Molins stated he had actually been under security in 2016 and 2017 for his “radicalism and distance to Salafist motions” however had actually revealed no indications he was going to perform an attack.

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An undated image of Redouane Lakdim. Photo: AFP/Getty Images

The shooting spree and grocery store hostage-taking on Friday, which likewise left 16 individuals hurt– consisting of 2 extremely seriously– was the very first significant thought terrorist occurrence given that President Emmanuel Macron raised France’s two-year state of emergency situation last fall and strengthened anti-terror laws.

“Our nation has actually suffered an Islamist terrorist attack,” Macron stated in a telecasted address.

Isis declared obligation for the attacks, without offering proof. Macron stated French authorities were examining the claim. When he had actually been kept an eye on by security services, #peeee

Questions will be asked as to how Lakdim was able to bring and get a weapon out attacks.

The interior minister, Grard Collomb, stated:” We had actually monitored him and did not believe he had actually been radicalised.”He included:” He was currently under monitoring when he all of a sudden chose to act.”

Just after 10am on Friday, Lakdim, stopped a white Opel Corsa automobile on the borders of Carcassonne, prior to shooting and eliminating the guest and seriously hurting the chauffeur.

The district attorney stated Lakdim then repelled in the cars and truck and appeared to wait outside a military barracks for soldiers. He then drove to a riot cops team barracks and contended 4 officers 200 metres away who had actually been out running. He seriously injured among group, who suffered damaged ribs and a punctured lung. A bullet struck near one officer’s heart.

Lakdim then drove to a Super U grocery store 8km away in Trbes, a drowsy town of 5,000 individuals near Carcassonne. At about 11am, he strolled into the store screaming Allahu Akbar and declaring he was a soldier from Islamic State. Around 50 individuals were inside the structure. Lakdim opened fire, eliminating one grocery store employee and one consumer.

Trebes

Christian Guibbert, a previous policeman, was going shopping when he heard a number of shots. He informed BFM TELEVISION his very first impulse was to conceal his better half and other consumers in a butcher’s refrigerator, prior to attempting to get away through a fire escape as the cops got here.

“I saw a single person on an individual and the ground who had a pistol in one hand and knife in the other and was screaming,” he stated. “He was really upset, I understood at the same time it was a terrorist. After 25 years in the police, one understands these things. He shot a number of times in the air.”

Gendarmes trying to leave the grocery store discovered Lakdim holding numerous captives. A gendarme offered to take the captives’ location. The shooter accepted the swap, so the gendarme stuck with him while others were left. That gendarme left his smart phone line open on a table so security forces outside might hear exactly what was going on within. When security forces outside the shop heard by means of the telephone that a shot was fired, they instantly stormed the grocery store and shot Lakdim dead.

Lt Col Arnaud Beltrame, the gendarme who had actually switched locations with the captives, was discovered seriously hurt. Early on Saturday early morning, the French interior ministry stated Beltrame had actually passed away from his injuries.

Collomb applauded the officer’s heroism. 2 other officers were hurt by gunshots throughout the attack.

The scenario at the grocery store lasted simply over 3 hours, throughout which the shooter had actually requested for the release of Salah Abdeslam , the only making it through suspect from the group that performed the November 2015 Paris attacks , French state TELEVISION reported. Abdeslam remains in holding cell in a French jail as the examination into the Paris attacks continues.

The interior ministry stated Lakdim was acting alone in Friday’s attack. The state district attorney stated he had actually been on an intelligence watchlist because 2014. Lakdim had actually been founded guilty two times in 2011 and 2015 for minor criminal offense, consisting of drug offenses. He had actually served one month in jail in 2016. The district attorney stated that throughout security, security services had actually not seen indications that recommended Lakdim would dedicate an attack.

A lady who coped with him was being questioned by cops.

Play Video

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Police and ambulances at scene of French captive circumstance– video

In October in 2015, Macron raised and strengthened anti-terror laws France’s two-year state of emergency situation which had actually been stated by previous president Franois Hollande on the night of the Paris attacks that eliminated 130 individuals in November 2015.

Macron stated the present horror hazard in France was various however high to that 2 to 3 years earlier when terrorist attacks were arranged and purchased from within Syria and Iraq. Presently, the threat was from unsafe people in France who had actually radicalised themselves, he stated.

French authorities have in current years carried out training to get ready for hostage-taking circumstances in grocery stores. In January 2015, after the horror attack on the satirical publication Charlie Hebdo, a shooter, Amdy Coulibaly, imprisoned at a kosher grocery store in eastern Paris, eliminating 4 individuals prior to authorities shot him dead.

Source short article by means of http://www.theguardian.com/us

[florencefolly]

Gendarme Wants to Give You a Ticket

July 7, 2017

Morning comes earlier than any of us want. Travel days are the worst because moving from one place to the next is work. We could go the easy route. Hire a car. Slam the bags in the back and the bodies in the front and get us to the next way point but this is not travel and teaches the kids nothing. We exit the building and move up the street towards Meromesnil Metro Station. Jumping on the second train because the first is brimming with rush our travelers. No thank you. I am already sweating my ass off in the morning sun and emerging heat. We need to go 14 stops and I am not doing that on top of people with all my shit. We step on, each of us finding a pocket of space for our gear and bodies. I am dripping standing next to a young, well-dressed couple. He is wearing a smart bow tie. I pay him a complement in French; “C’est bon cravate”—nice tie. A moment passes and he asks, “Where are you from?” is damn good English. “San Francisco,” I reply. We exchange pleasantries and talk about Paris, telling him we have visited a few times. “You like this city?” Yes, we like it. I tell him that Parisians have an unfortunate reputation. He nods but I continue, “You have rules. If you don’t follow them, then you are not treated well.” San Francisco has rules too. I bet most big cities do. Knowing the rules unlocks the mystery. It starts with making an effort towards the language. The French truly appreciate when you make an effort to speak their language. American are no different. Most French folks speak decent English, even though they’ll tell you otherwise. Not true. They say same about my terrible French. “C’est bonne!” Your French is good! Not really but thank you. I cannot converse freely the way I would like but I find that the mix of their English and my French is good enough to connect with people. That makes me happy.

The couple are on their way to a wedding. They are Parisians living in London for the last six years as management consultants. They are together six years. I say that Robin and together 26 and married 20 this summer. “Are you married?” I ask. “No,” he demurs. She flashes a smirk. “Have you asked her yet?” I press. “No,” he mutters. She grins again. “Ask her to marry you already, would you?” I push. Robin chimes in, “We were together six years before he asked me.” I nod. The young lady rescues the boy from me by telling him they’ve reached their stop. We exchange smiles and they head off to the wedding they are attending. We have more room on the train now because we are further out from the city center—beyond Zones 1-3.

We come out of the metro and I suddenly realize that I have no idea where the car we’ve leased needs to be collected. I should’ve print out the damn directions to the pick-up location but I did not. I am searching my phone the address and after a few minutes of looking silly and unprepared, I find the paper I am looking for. Voila! I see where it is and orient myself the map on the back of the bus stop. I march us across a large traffic circle and into a parking garage where the pick-up office is located. Inside it is climatized—thankfully, mercifully.

Paperwork and passport out, I make contact with the agent. He is an affable fellow and we talk about MMA and the upcoming fight between McGregor and Mayweather. We think there will be multiple meetings with the two fighters. I get checked out on the car by his colleague and we load up and go. Leasing a car is easy, driving in a foreign country is hard. I’ve now driven in three European countries. Ireland, Italy and now France has made my list of places I’ve driven. The cities are the hardest. You compete as a neophyte with seasoned and grizzled veterans and most often they show now mercy. We exit the garage after a little difficulty and are on the road to Honfleur. We need gasoline. I drive for about 20 kilometers and we pull off at a highway gas station. There it is: Autogrill. That Italian staple that I have written about before. The beacon that shines brightly with its cleanish bathrooms, coffee bar and aisles of snacks. We stop, fill up, pee and get some snacks and waters. Back on the highway, they are aggressive and chaotic in their driving style.

We are on our way to Giverny. Monet’s home for 40 years and the back drop for his most famous painting: The Waterlilies. We exit the highway sooner than we thought but then spend the next twenty minutes traversing the narrow streets of little hamlets as we meander through the French countryside towards his home. The girls are already there having Ubered out to the Charles de Gaulle to collect their rental car. We have been swapping texts since our last metro station. We arrive in Giverny and find the public parking lot and make our towards the visitor center. The girls have walked to the top of the small town to visit the grave of the impressionist master. It is hot. Still. We connect with them on their way down the hill. Bathroom and food is in order. We satisfy the first requirement and then locate a spot in the shade to eat, carrying our food from the café out to it. Salad, quiche, sandwiches for the kids and a small bottle of rose that Robin and I share. We sit and eat. Claire feeds the wandering chickens lettuce from my salad. She earns enough trust to pick one up. We finish the meal. The girls want to see his house and of course the pond. I am done. Driving is stressful. It is hot. I want to leave the beauty of this place for the cool of the coast. Hopefully, it is cool. We don’t leave until we’ve had a stroll through a garden. They are cleverly arranged in single shaded colors. Purples, pinks, reds, etc. Different plants in varying shades of the same color. We stop for homemade ice cream after a short visit to one of the many gift shops for a quick purchase of a postcard and a pretty scarf for my lovely. Red petals on a white background in a very soft fabric. It suits her.

Back on the highway, we are cruising now with our destination plugged in to the vehicle’s GPS. We pass through one toll plaza and another. On the third, I am whistled at by a police officer and motioned to pull over. Fuck. Drink driving laws are very strict in France and my petite glass of rose at lunch has me palpitating. Robin offers a mint. I refuse. The last thing I need to do is call attention to myself further. I pull over and find a parking spot in the small lot as directed. A man on a motorcycle that had been behind me is now off his motor and walking towards me. I am out of the car, documents in hand. Passport, international driver’s license, vehicle registration and insurance papers. I am ready to submit myself to whatever my fate will be. This is my bed but I have no idea how I made it.

Turns out he was a plainclothes gendarme. The tipoff was his small armband with the “gendarme” inscription on it. He had been following me for a bit and when we got to the toll plaza he set the hook. He is irritated. I speak little French and he speaks less English. Perfect. I can play the confused tourist. The young man tells me to wait and marches off to find someone who speaks English. An older gentleman appears. He asks if I speak French. I tell him only a little. He says, “You can’t drive in the middle lane.” What? Everyone is driving there! “You can only pass here,” he continues. I am confused still. He asks me to wait, “I speak for you,” he says. I can sense that he is empathetic and the young one is fired up to write a ticket. He goes and speaks to him. They both return a few minutes later. I am admonished for staying in the middle lane the whole time and instructed once again to not stay there but to use it for passing only. Yes, sir! A day or so later I learn that I would have been fined and expected to pay on the spot. Better carry cash and no more rose at lunch.

That goddam stupid tax raises its head once again. This is the fee for being a tourist or a foreigner in a foreign land. It comes in many forms and this will not be the last of this tax we will pay. We are cruising along and before you know it we are heading over this beautiful bridge. One problem, we didn’t need to go over it. 5,40 euro each way brings our tax to just under $15.

We get ourselves back on track and find beautiful Honfleur. What a spot. Wow. Just wow. Water town, full of friendly people. Yep, this will do and it is a welcome break from the pace of London and Paris. Only thing is that it is still hot! No rest for the wicked. We arrive at our apartment and Louise greets us. She is sweet and friendly. I bust out the French and she accommodates. “Would you like to speak in French? She asks. “Oui!” I say but we still switch back and forth between English and French. She gives us the layout of the apartment and the town makes her goodbyes and heads off. The kids go about unpacking us and I move the car into the narrow street parking spot with 27 point turn. I get the giant Peugot within a couple of inches of the wall and leave just enough room for a small vehicle to pass.

Rani arrives after driving in circles. I had already been downtown for staples, wine, cheese, bread, fruit. We need a bigger shop and part of that is to stop in to the local butcher. I fumble over my French and Sebastian the butcher responds back with, “We can speak in English, if you like.” Yep, I’m tired and I want to get shit done. We settle on these amazing bone-in pork chop. We ask him to hold them until we return from the main grocery. We get that done and then get home to cook. Pork chops coated in fleur de sel trappeur with mushroom and haricots verts and a green salad with butter lettuce as the base.

Dinner completed, we head out for a walk on the town to see what it offers. We find the harbor in time for the sunset and locate a carousel. They kids go for a ride and they are in heaven. When we are done, it’s home to collapse. Long day, again.

[ericjuneau]

Reprise (Chapter 32) [Frozen/Tangled/The Little Mermaid]

CHAPTER 32: Follow the Flakes

The dockworker stood where they would have lowered the gangplank, blocking their path.

"Welcome to Arendelle. May I see your permit please?"

"Permit?" Flynn asked.

The dockworker tapped his foot. He wore a domed helmet with a nose guard. As far as Rapunzel could see, all the dockworkers had been replaced by royal sentries. They paced up and down the shoreline with sharp spears.

"All ships need to have writ of consent from one of the allied kingdoms before being granted dock."

Rapunzel whispered to Ariel. "That's new."

"We can't allow in a potential risk, if your kingdom is not part of Arendelle's axis of compatriots. These are tumultuous times. What flag do you sail under?"

"Look, it's just me, my wife, and..." Flynn pondered Ariel's role, "my sister. We're a trade ship."

"Trade ship?" The guard looked behind him. "What are all those guns and cannons for?"

"That's... that's what we're trading. Do you need any? Can never be too careful in these tumultuous times."

"Do you have an arrangement with a specific guild?" the guard asked.

"A guild? Ah, sure. The guild of..."

"Here." Ariel held the folded up flag from the mercenaries. She threw it down to him. "Our buyer said to show you this. He said we'd be greeted as friends."

The guard fingered the material as if he expected it to fall apart. "Hm, this is a sanctioned banner. Still, this is all a bit suspicious."

Rapunzel whispered in Flynn's ear. "Do the smolder."

"What?" Flynn whispered back. "But it's a guy."

"Just do it. Trust me."

Flynn rolled his eyes. "All right," he sighed. "Here it comes." He propped one knee on the railing and gazed down. "Hey." His eyebrows knitted together. Lips puckered and pursed. His voice dropped to low and soothing. "I understand. You gotta be careful. If more kingdoms cared this much, there'd be less to worry about. And, may I say, that leather armor really compliments your shoulders."

The guard grew a bemused expression. "All right, you can dock."

Rapunzel and Ariel lowered the gangplank while Flynn cocked his eyebrow, confused.

"Thank you, sir," Rapunzel said to him as they passed. "Have a good day."

Once they passed by, Flynn whispered to Rapunzel, "How did you know?"

"Women's intuition," Rapunzel said.

The situation only worsened the further they went into town. Partisan-holding soldiers walked the streets in pairs, wearing armor with the insignia and colors of the new empire. Occasionally, a coach passed down the street. Not a friendly caravan, but a black, square coach with gilded edges, pulled by a war horse.

"Hey."

Across the street, one of the gendarme shouted at a citizen. "Pick up that can." He pointed his spear at the ground.

The old woman in the grubby wool cloak snatched it up. "Sorry, I just dropped it."

The guard grimaced. Rapunzel noticed soldiers with crossbows lurking on rooftops, observing the exchange. Townspeople darted across streets, huddled under awnings, and avoided anyone's gaze.

Their mouths dropped when reached the town square. It was devoid of people, but full of stocks and pillories. No one was in them, but it did its job of scaring the populace.

"This is awful," she said.

"I know," Flynn said. "It's worse than what I imagined."

"What should we do? Where should we go?" Ariel asked.

"The castle. I am the cousin of the rightful queen and Ansel's superior," Rapunzel said.

Flynn caught up to her as she took off. "Wait, wait. Are you sure that's a good idea? His seat of power's already got an indentation of his butt. It's going to take more than a stern talking-to for him to give it up."

Two guards stood in front of the iron-wrought poles, while others around the boundaries patrolled or watched.

"What do you want?" the guard asked.

"I demand to see Commander Ansel."

"Yeah, right. Take off, love," he said.

Rapunzel fluffed out her hair to make sure he noticed. She couldn't believe he didn't recognize her. "I am Ansel's commander-in-chief and cousin to Queen Elsa."

"Come off it. You don't look a bit like her."

Rapunzel pursed her lips. Hadn't Ansel told anyone to look out for a waify blond with seventy-foot long hair?

"Commander Ansel will recognize me, if you just let him-"

"She's brunette and you're blond. Unless that's a wig. Ridiculous wig, though. Hey, Hemming. Check out this girl's hair."

"What's she wearing? A stalk of wheat?" Hemming answered from his guard post.

"I know, right." He turned back to her. "All right, cutie, take off. You're wasting my time."

"I am not leaving until-"

Flynn grabbed her shoulders as the guard's scowl deepened. "I'm sorry, sir. My sister's a little addled. Likes playing pretend. Thanks for humoring her." He steered Rapunzel across the street, around the corner of a building.

"Did that go as well as you expected?" Flynn asked.

"We should be happy we weren't arrested," Ariel said. "Hasn't Ansel declared us public enemy number one, two, and three?"

"Maybe he's been too busy," Flynn said. "He's sending ships to every corner of the sea. He wants to make sure he's recognized."

"Or he never expected us to walk up to his front door," Ariel finished. "So we've got that going for us. What else can we do? Sneak in? Wait for him to come out?"

Rapunzel was still grousing. Until, across the street, a familiar face walked by.

"Augie!" She ran across the street.

"Who?" Flynn asked.

An old man in a blue coat perked up. "My dear lady. I never thought I'd see you again." They held hands. "It's a wonder to see your shining face. Much needed in these dark times."

"What happened?" Rapunzel asked. "How did it get like this? What happened after we left?"

"Oh, it was bad. I mean, yes, they drove away the blockade. Princess Anna did a boffo job of keeping them guessing until Ansel's ships arrived. Once they saw Corona's flag they high-tailed it out of there. Not a shot was fired."

"That's good," Ariel said.

"Don't relax yet," Augie said. "They asked permission to come ashore for a long-term stay. He says he wants to help Arendelle with the winter, keep it protected. Ansel set himself up in the castle, directing his men, sitting in on meetings with the minister of defense. But days go by and he's acting more and more like he owns the place. A few orders this day, a few more the next. To people he doesn't even have authority over."

"Why did they listen?" Rapunzel asked. "Didn't Anna say anything?"

"He slid in so slickly. And I think she was grateful for the help. But then one night, there's a fire in the bakery. There's a riot--people are stealing all the bread they can before it burns. They're hungry, you know."

Rapunzel nodded.

"But Ansel says this is what happens when you let people suffer for so long. That they're inviting a revolution. The longer they take inaction, the bloodier the castle's walls will be. So he declares martial law."

Ariel raised her eyebrows. "Anna would never allow that."

"She tried not to. There was a big fight in the throne room. At the end, Ansel orders his men to detain Anna in her room. Says she's responsible for letting Arendelle get this bad. She's no longer fit for the crown and he's taking over."

"Then the war starts," Ariel said. "Corona versus Arendelle. Arendelle versus my kingdom. My kingdom versus Corona."

"I'm sorry, we haven't been introduced." Flynn extended his hand. "Hi, Flynn Rider."

Augie squinted. "Are you sure? You look like that new prince in Corona. What's his name? Eugenia Pitzfervert or something?"

"He's my husband," Rapunzel interjected. To Flynn, "Augie's the royal astronomer for Arendelle."

"Was," Augie corrected. "They kicked me out as soon as Ansel took over. First thing he did was eliminate anyone without combat training. There's nothing but soldiers in there now. Recruited half the town into military ranks."

"Where is Anna? Is she still in the castle?" Rapunzel asked.

"I suppose. Imprisoned in her room, as far as I know. Ansel keeps saying she can stand by his side when she's ready to accept the responsibility of a leader."

"If she was dead, he'd be showing off her body," Flynn said. "He'd want to prove the old rulers are dead to cement his hold on the throne."

"And to brag about it," Augie added. "He built a pulpit in front of the castle gates. Makes speeches every day. Talks about how the old monarchy was weak. Promises to rid Arendelle of this icy plague even if they have to take the town apart timber by timber."

"I don't know what to do," Rapunzel said. "They refused me entrance at the castle. Didn't know who I was. And Elsa's missing. I thought she might have come back to Arendelle, but..."

"We're three people against an army," Flynn said.

Augie nodded. "You are not alone. There are others helping." He looked around for anyone eavesdropping. "See this?"

He pointed at the other end of the alley. There was a marking near the ground--a jagged snowflake in blue chalk.

"Rumors abound that there's a resistance building. And this is their symbol. That's all there is right now--rumors," Augie said.

"How can we find them?" Ariel asked. "They've got to be looking for recruits."

"No one knows. Either they're good at keeping secrets or they're not interested. Could all be hopeful dreaming from the people. But I've seen soldiers wiping away the marks when they see them."

"So they must believe they're out there," Ariel said.

Rapunzel stroked her chin. "If they believe, maybe they know more about them than we do. We could ask... but we'd have to be sneaky about it."

"Excuse me," Flynn interrupted. "But did someone say 'sneaky'?"

By order of Lord Protector Ansel, the "Mossy Stone" had become an outpost for the city's soldiers. Of course, Ansel had paid the owner a fair fee for its lease and goods. But that didn't make the people happy that one of their watering holes was now a military installation.

The interior still looked like a bar, although all the liquor and foodstuffs had been removed, to prevent temptation. It was meant to provide shelter for soldiers trading shifts, to store arms, and hold detainees.

Gustav and Teodor were playing cards on one of the tables. They were the only two inside, and had been for hours. Until the door opened.

"Boy, rough shift today. Rough shift," the man entering said. He wore a full uniform with helmet. "Those Arendelle airheads don't appreciate what we're doing for them. They might gripe about us, but are thieves roaming the streets? No, of course not. So what are they complaining about, I say."

Gustav and Teodor glanced up. Usually the first thing a soldier on break would do was sit, put their feet up, and wish the pub was still stocked.

"Yeah, guess so," Gustav said.

"Haven't thought about it," Teodor added.

"And how about that resistance, huh?" he continued. "You see those snowflakes all around. Frustrating, isn't it? I've had to wipe away seven of them already today."

Gustav shrugged. "Not a big deal."

"I've only seen two myself," Teodor said. "And I didn't bother cleaning them off."

"But they must be doing all kinds of nasty things." The helmeted soldier pulled out a chair, turned it backwards, and straddled it next to them. "Like that one time... uh... you know that one time?"

"What one time?" Gustav asked.

"That big thing that they did recently. You know."

Gustav and Teodor gave him blank stares. "I haven't heard anything. Lieutenant's never mentioned it in his briefings."

"All I know is they like putting pretty snowflakes on buildings." Teodor laughed.

"Still, defacing our fair city. Our city we work so hard to keep clean. I wish I could head to the stockade and thrash the ones we got," the soldier said.

"We captured one of them?"

"Oh... we haven't caught any of them yet," the soldier said.

"Not as far as I know," Gustav said, placing a card.

"I bet there's someone who knows something. Do we know of any resistance sympathizers? I bet we could go interrogate them," the soldier said.

Gustav scoffed. "You want to? Be my guest. Standing orders are to make sure we keep good relations with the people."

"We want them to get used to us. We're going to be here a long time," Teodor said.

"But that just means we have to crack down. Find their base of operations, what they're planning. Slink into every rat hole and dustbin they might be hiding in."

Gustav regarded him. "Why haven't you taken your helmet off? Aren't you off duty?"

"Oh... I am... I mean, I'm not. I just stopped in to pee. Gotta go." He scattered off his chair and backed toward the door. "Go Ansel." He raised his fist in the air before he shut the door.

"Did he even pee?" Gustav asked.

Teodor shrugged. "Are you going to put a card down?"

Ariel asked, "Well?"

Flynn took off his helmet, now safe in the alley. Ariel had been keeping watch while Rapunzel knelt on the ground, scrutinizing one of the snowflakes.

"Those guys are iron tight," Flynn replied. "Couldn't get much out of them. Luckily, they don't know much either. They don't have any in custody and they don't know any members or sympathizers."

Ariel suppressed a sarcastic smirk. Flynn walked over to Rapunzel, who hadn't taken her eyes off the marking.

"What's the matter, honey? You fall in love with the wall?"

Rapunzel huffed. "There's a snowflake here. And there's one over there." She pointed to the corner of the next block. "Why are they so close together?"

"They want people to notice, to be inspired to fight back. They're spreading the word," Flynn said.

"If they wanted to spread the word, wouldn't it be more spread?" She hugged her arms and tapped her foot. "If there really is a resistance, there's got to be some way to get in touch with them. But they can't make it obvious or they'd be caught."

"Are they exactly the same?" Ariel asked. "They say no two snowflakes are alike."

Rapunzel perked up. She zipped into the next alley, then dropped to her knees and studied that snowflake.

"Ariel, you're the best!" She rose and ran further down the street. Flynn and Ariel sprinted behind her.

Rapunzel slid in the street and followed the path down to a lamppost. A small blue snowflake was painted on the base.

"What? What did you find?" Flynn asked.

"This isn't just a snowflake. It's a compass," Rapunzel said. She pointed to a thorny congregation on the snowflake's six arms. "See this? It changes on each one. It's the direction we're supposed to go."

"I never would have figured that out," Ariel said.

Flynn smiled. "Comes from all that art."

The three of them followed the symbols all over the city. At points, they got lost, or so they thought. But a little backtracking led them to the signpost they needed. The trail wound a loop around the town square and soon they were heading out of the city. Flat land became bumpy hills.

The three of them, huffing and puffing, climbed upward. If they turned around, they could see the kingdom spread out below.

"Are you sure... this is where... we're supposed to go?" Ariel asked between gasps.

"Should've packed my mittens," Flynn said.

"Look!" Rapunzel shouted, pointing to a pine tree. A snowflake had been inscribed on its bark. "We're still going the right way. We're heading to this..."

Her finger tracked from the pine tree to a small cave, hidden by the snow. They had to stoop to enter, though the cave ceiling was tall enough for them to stand.

No tunnels or passageways, but there was door at the other end. A door made entirely of ice.

Rapunzel walked up and knocked. The doorknob was locked. Ariel pressed her ear against it, cupping it with her hands to protect from the cold. After a few seconds, they heard singing. Whoever was on the other side was happy, judging by the tune.

Rapunzel knocked again, louder. The singing got closer. A window slid open, but only showed darkness.

"Hi. What's the password, please?" asked a jolly voice.

"Olaf?" Rapunzel asked. "Olaf, is that you?"

The voice on the other side chuckled. "Nope. Olaf-olaf-is-that-you's not it. Wanna try again?"

"Olaf, it's me, Rapunzel."

"Rapunzel? Hi! What are you doing out there? Ooh, do you know the password? I can't let you in without a password."

"I didn't know there was one." Rapunzel said. "How do I get it?"

"You know, I'm not sure. Someone just told me."

"You could tell us," Ariel said.

"Oh yeah. It's... Oh no, that's how I got tricked last time. No, you have to say it."

"Can't you give us a hint?" Rapunzel asked.

Flynn, rubbing his shoulders, approached the door. "Look, we don't have time for these games. It's freezing out here. I'm turning into a snowman."

"Snowman! That's it! See, you did know it."

The door clicked. It opened, revealing Olaf's goofy smiling face.

"Olaf!" Rapunzel knelt and embraced the little snowman. Not too hard, lest she crush his body parts.

"Rapunzel!" Olaf said. "I knew it was you. Are you coming to join the resistance? It's a really cool club. We don't have t-shirts yet, but I'm working on designs."

"Uh, that is a talking snowman," Flynn said. "Does... does anyone else see this?"

Rapunzel clucked her tongue. "Really, Eugene, I think he knows he's a snowman. You don't need to point it out."

"It's just... when I... the magic hair, I knew, but... this is a... how did?"

"Elsa made him," Rapunzel replied. "Didn't you know she could do that?"

"The ice... yeah, but... I mean, this is a... She can create living things? Out of snow? How did?"

"Sweetie..." Rapunzel tapped Flynn's face gently. "You're so cute when you're astonished." She followed Olaf through the door.

Flynn stood stunned at the door. Ariel sidled up to him.

"By the way, I'm really a mermaid. Just so you know," she said as she passed by.