I never thought I would feel so wretched after waking up in a gorgeous French estate. I thought it would be impossible to be surrounded by such beauty and to feel nothing but the disgusting churning of my empty stomach and feel so exhausted, yet be so terrified of shutting my eyes, even for a moment.

I supposed I was feeling better than when we had originally arrived to Alistair's parents' property after another train ride and a brief walk. Coming into the villa, tucked away in the countryside, had been a blessing. The exterior was something out of a romantic novel with stone work, a stunning view, trailing plants crawling all over the house. But the interior had been remodeled to be almost like a small, cozy, American house. Modern and minimal in most cases, but with touches of home like warm quilts and a record player.

I had been so exhausted when I had arrived that I wanted to sit on the beautiful floor and sob until I couldn't cry anymore. I wanted to throw my head back and scream my lungs out. And I probably would've if it hadn't been for Alistair's constant attention and his quiet movements in the background. His ability to hold his emotions together made me ashamed and concerned about the way I was behaving and that fear was enough to keep my emotions repressed for the time being.

With the help of the medicated chocolate we had both managed to fall asleep in our bedrooms as the sun was setting.

Now, at six in the morning, I was standing on the intricately designed balcony, just off the modern kitchen, staring at the picturesque rolling hills before me. I could barely see the outline as the sun was just barely rising, but it was a scene painters would adore, no doubt. In that moment it seemed so amazing to me that the world could hold such beauty and such pain all at once.

"You're up early." Alistair's voice startled me, causing me to spin around so quickly I made myself dizzy.

But the darkness of his hair, the strong line of his shoulders, and the attentiveness of his green eyes was oddly comforting.

"I'm surprised I slept at all." I responded, "That chocolate is a powerful thing."

Alistair gave me a soft smile, "I'm glad it's helping."

His casual behavior confused me. Yesterday he had been on the brink of a mental break down due to the reality of our twisted situation. But now, he was just leaning against the railing, staring out at the fields like he was a college student that had just started his spring break.

"So what now?" I hinted tightly.

"What do you mean? This is it."

"We're just going to stand on a balcony and hope that the world fixes itself?"

Alistair's eyes turned towards me and he paused briefly, almost like he was trying to read me as deeply as he could. I did my best not to squirm before he forced his attention back to the view.

"I know this is going to be hard for you because you've always done everything yourself, but we can't do anything this time. Even if we wanted to. I assume that Josh is going to figure this out sooner because he's probably expecting a phone call from Smith, but someone will find that car and we are going to be pursued very aggressively when that happens. So the best thing to do is immerse ourselves in the culture around us. Sophie is a tech wizard and my parents used to have an amazing team behind them. Between the three of them they will find something out, at least enough for us to come out of hiding and fight it ourselves. Until then we will enjoy Paris."

"I can't just sit around and wait."

"You have to." Alistair retorted, "My parents know what they're doing and I've seen Sophie's skills first hand. I have faith that they are the most capable people to get us out of this situation."

"And I have to be a tourist."

"Few things are more suspicious than someone who goes to another country and hunkers down in a villa they don't own. If we keep moving it's less like that we'll be found and in a city like Paris."

"This goes against everything that makes sense." I said with a shake of my head.

"Well, your life now depends on how well you can blend in with other tourists." Alistair stated bluntly, "Now, let's get out of this house and go act like the most awestricken travelers this world has ever seen."

Paris was not what it seemed to be in all the romantic novels I had read. It wasn't the dreamy getaway that everyone talked about and it didn't look nearly as regal as it did in the sappy movies I had watched at one point.

Or maybe it was all of those things; I just couldn't see it at the time.

All I could focus on was the angry citizens who had to wrestle through crowds to get to their own homes, cafes that turned away customers because they were literally bursting with human beings, and every time I walked by a back alley I got the distinctive scent of urine that made my nose wrinkle. At the time it seemed baffling that this place could ever be considered one of the most romantic cities in Europe.

Alistair, on the other hand, seemed delighted to be walking through the large city and even shook his head when I craned my neck, obviously looking for a taxi.

"This is part of the experience." He murmured. That hand fell against the small of my back just like it had in Ottawa. Gently guiding.

"Walking around wet streets that smell." I spat.

"You're a tourist." He reminded, still smiling at me.

I could almost hear him telling me to trust me with the way he looked at me. And I had no better option. So I let the Canadian agent guide me around a foreign city.

But Alistair was unlike any tour guide I had been with. It was infinitely clear that I would not be placed in the lap of luxury like I had been with Josh. I didn't have a driver picking me up at the base of historic monuments. I wasn't lounging around with someone explaining everything to me as I pretended to listen. I wasn't sipping fine wine until I was buzzed and hoping that I would absorb the culture that I was actively ignoring. And I wasn't with a man whose main concern was his next hit.

Despite my clear distain for a long trek while I was so exhausted Alistair refused to let me flag down a taxi, or to board a bus, and he certainly didn't let me get back on a train. We walked from the train station, through an awkward maze of old stone buildings, and up what felt like a hundred stairs to a pure white basilica.

I was almost snarling curse words at him, tired and agitated, when we reached the top.

"Oh, wow." I breathed.

I had been in such a heavy daze and too worried about the crowds around me that it seemed like this amazing structure had just appeared in front of me.

This time when Alistair smiled it wasn't a cover, it wasn't a gesture to try and comfort me. It was genuine. I could tell by the way that those green eyes sparkled that he was pleased with my enthusiasm.

We walked around the massive building for so long that I lost track of time. Alistair waited for me when my eyes got stuck on something I just couldn't quite get over. I probably looked like a fool, standing there with my mouth flopped open as I gawked around, but with the amount of people in similar states around I wasn't particularly concerned. And every time I breathed a question- like wondering how it was so white after so many years- Alistair would answer quietly, his lips always dropping close to my ear.

He was full of random facts, like what the name meant in English, that it was the second highest point in Paris, and that it had been built on a sacred area where the druids worshipped. He would lean over my shoulder and point out neat little nooks or parts of statues that no one else would notice and explain little historic tidbits about them. Aside from being completely blown away by the basilica I was now stunned by Alistair's knowledge.

But before I could recover from all information and the pure amazement of where he had taken me, he tugged me back down all of those stairs.

Together we wove through the multitudes of people until we reached a tiny café that was too far off the main streets to be appealing to most. However, the quietness inside and the soft music that played over the speakers was enough to make me believe it was a good decision. Miraculously, the food was even better than the laid back atmosphere. I hadn't realized that I was hungry, but since I had been eating nothing but bits of chocolate for the last three days I devoured the croissant that Alistair purchased.

We walked back to the train station slowly, my feet were aching and now I felt like I was looking at Paris with new eyes. The old shops, the couples walking by us holding hands, the amazing way that the lights started to switch on as the sun began to set, it all made the city so much more beautiful.

By the time we ambled back to the villa from the train station my feet were screaming at me and my back was aching. When we entered the home Alistair sensed that I was going to grill him with as many questions as my sleep deprived mind could muster.

"Not tonight." He hushed, grabbing my shoulders and steering me towards the room I was occupying, "You're too tired."

And he was right. I didn't even have the capacity to snag a piece of chocolate. My body was so exhausted that I managed to kick off my jeans, swap out my hoodie for a tee shirt, then I tumbled into bed and fell asleep almost immediately.

"Is this going to be the regular time that you wake up, or am I going to be allowed to sleep in one of these days?" Alistair murmured when he found me on the balcony again.

"It's hard to sleep when you have a crazy ex hunting you down." I spat back.

The morning air was frigid, but not nearly as bad as the cold bitterness that was running through my veins. I felt like my own defeat was too close and I couldn't stand it. Yesterday had been a beautiful distraction but it wasn't enough to keep my mind occupied.

Alistair leaned up against the railing with me. But he kept his eyes on me, not the beautiful scenery around him. His expression was unreadable.

"Let me run you through how this is going to play out on the other side of things. Josh isn't going to get a call from Smith. He'll be angry but rationalize that he needs to wait, these things take time, something could've gone wrong. By now he's probably given up on Smith calling or just arriving as well. So his suspicions begin to rise."

I unconsciously gripped the railing harder. Alistair noticed immediately and I watched those green eyes soften.

"That's not a big deal, Camila, he can't disclose the important assignment that his agent was on if he hadn't done so already. He can't abandon his duties and search for you himself either. So now, he might be deciding who to send out to track Smith. Smith's car is in a swamp on an unmarked road nearly fifty kilometers away from the airport and even further from your apartment. He wasn't humble enough to carry tracking devices. It'll be weeks before they even find his car, which wasn't his own rental, so then they will need to identify the body. Then, about three weeks since we arrived in Amsterdam, they will finally figure out that his card was not used by him to fly to Holland, it was used by someone else. Then they have to try and pinpoint us in the European Union."

"Your parents worked for the government, Josh will know that we used one of their houses."

"These houses are as under the radar as you can get." Alistair denied. "My parents set them up so they could disappear if they wanted to. No one knows who owns these buildings or why."

"So I just sit and wait for three weeks to go by, then what?"

"By then my parents and Sophie will have a good plan to get us out of this mess or we will have enough evidence to go after Josh."

"I hate doing nothing." I whispered softly. "It doesn't matter how many times you tell me that it's all going to be okay I just can't stand it."

"I understand. Smith and Josh really messed with your head."

"Why did you take me to Smith in the first place?"

"I brought your name up to my supervisor when I thought I had a positive identification on you. Smith overheard and said that he knew you personally, would be able to pick you out from a crowd with ease. He seemed like a good asset, but, in retrospect, it was definitely a little strange that he seemed to know you so well."

"This whole situation is a disaster." I groaned. I propped my elbows up on the railing and let my head fall into my hands.

"Come on, there's no point in fretting over what we can't change." He murmured, "We still have a lot of Paris to enjoy."

"I'm not feeling very adventurous." I denied.

"I know, but it'll help take your mind off of it. Besides, there's so much to do here. It would be a shame if you missed it all."

I couldn't deny Alistair. He was right; I would only wrap myself deeper in my own horrid thoughts and push myself into a panic attack. And his theory had been working. Yesterday I had been so exhausted I had fallen asleep without the aid of his relaxants. It hadn't been the tenderest sleep, I woke up several times and was restless, but I didn't want to become dependent on his drugs. I would have to face reality eventually.

So I got on the same train I had yesterday and Alistair and I went back into the city.

Alistair was just as interesting and just as enthusiastic as he had been yesterday. We started with a tiny restaurant where he ordered for me, speaking in French again. I was disappointed when I received a plate for fruit, a piece of bread, and a cup of coffee.

"I didn't want this." I stated, wrinkling my nose. I wanted a buttery pastry, or an omelet, or even a burger. Greasy food had always been my comfort food and that would not change just because I was in an elegant city. "And I hate coffee."

Alistair spun my mug towards himself and gave me an apologetic smile.

"I figured it wasn't what you were craving, but we haven't had a normal meal in a long time, your body needs the nutrients."

"I want yours." I protested, looking at his omelet.

"Egg whites and spinach?"

I just rolled my eyes and poked at my fruit.

The beginning of the day was filled with walking again. This time I embraced it more. I watched the people that moved around me and assessed how they were different from the cocky American's, the overly polite Canadians, the loud Scots. I felt the cobblestones beneath my sneakers, appreciating the character of the city and marveled at how the architecture changed on each street. Every now and then I would peer through the buildings and see the Eiffel tower or the Notre Dame Cathedral.

"Not today." Alistair whispered when he saw me staring at the far-away metal structure.

It turned out that today was filled with surprisingly normal things. Alistair seemed to carry on the idea that we were not to use any form of public transport was not necessary. We walked everywhere. We poked our heads into tourist shops. I could tell that the genuine excitement left Alistair's features, but he was still pretending to be delighted with the little key chain he purchased.

Clearly, he was playing into the tourist façade.

We poked our head into several cafes. Each time Alistair ordered for me. It was always small portions of healthy food and a glass of water. He told me I needed to be hydrated for our adventures and eat normal food. I hated to admit it, but he was right. The water and vegetables were soothing my unsettled stomach.

After we bought a load of groceries in the late afternoon Alistair agreed that we could finally succumb to flagging down a taxi instead of lugging all the food on the train.

When we reached the house and began unloading the groceries Alistair was humming to himself softly and as much as I thought it couldn't happen I was beginning to feel my shoulders slump ever so slightly and my breaths came in and out a little easier.

As he opened the small fridge in the tiny kitchen his eyes met mine and he shot me a gentle smile before resuming his activity. The gesture made the remaining knots of tension in my body loosen ever so slightly.

No, I didn't think we were completely safe here, but at least I had begun trusting Alistair.

***Hello, I know that this can be a very stressful time of year, so (if you're comfortable) I would like you to comment, telling me what you're grateful for, or someone who is important to you, something that you're proud of yourself for doing.***