Mary held her breath as she looked about the room. 

"It's wonderful," She said breathlessly as she turned her head upward towards the small chandelier and golden lace that ran along the upper balcony. 

Erik looked around and gave a small shrug, "I suppose it is." 

Mary couldn't help herself, she ran and tackled Erik in a rather large hug. 

He shifted uncomfortably and patted the young girl awkwardly on the back. 

"Thank you for telling me Mothers name," Mary whispered with a content sigh. 

Erik looked at her in trivial puzzlement, "Of course." 

------------

"Is it someone I know?!" Eli hissed angrily at his sister. 

"Of course," Ilios laughed. 

Eli sat, brow furrowed in deep thought. 

"Is it Sydney?" 

Ilios raised an eyebrow and gave an interested look deep into her brother's eyes, trying to discern his thoughts. 

"Do you want it to be Sydney?" She asked with great intrigue. 

"I hate you," he spat bitterly crossing his arms. "You've spoiled my evening." 

"Phooey." Ilios grinned prying his arm from his chest and holding it tenderly, "Thank you for sending for David. " 

"It was no trouble." 

Ilios leaned her head on her brother's shoulder and gave a small happy sigh, "Really Eli, I thank you." 

"if it was any trouble at all I wouldn't have done it," He said with a teasing laugh. "Now here's the plan. Though I do suppose I'll have to change it with the addition of some insufferable woman I'm supposed to take." 

"To take?" Ilios scoffed, "Well, aren't you domineering Mr. Destler." 

"Shut up." 

"No really Mr. Destler, tell me how you are going to sweep me of my poor fragile womanly feet and save my entire world," Ilios said in a high pitched voice mockingly. 

"Mother!" Winnie called out to the other boat, "Ilios is being in souffle again." 

"Insufferable," Eli corrected with a chuckle as he violently rubbed the hair on his youngest sisters head. "If you're going to offend her do it right." 

"I wish Wade was here," Winnie said with a huff, "I'm never picked on when Wade is here." 

Gustave overheard and gave his Mother a troubling question as to if the invalid would surely not come. 

Christine assured him that the last thing Wade would want was a public outing in the Opera House no matter how secure the location. 

"And how is Freddy?" Luke asked eagerly, "I hear he's becoming quite a wonder in the medical world." 

"Indeed," Christine nodded, "He claimed to Ilios to had found a cure for the common cold. Of course, he's lying but it was fun to watch the excitement on her face." 

Christine fixed her dress and watched the two men row as she attempted to phrase her net question as casually as possible. 

"Have you heard from Peter at all?" 

"Not I," Luke shrugged, "Not since Spring Break Last. He was in bad shape then." 

Gustave gave a more assuring answer, that he had seen Peter before he had left and the old friend was alive and well. 

"He's grown a trifle unsure of himself," Gustave explained, "Much more meticulous and less reckless but he still has that determination of spirit that can not be put to rest. I fear what the war will do to him." 

"Your father fears we'll have to leave Paris," Christine revealed to her eldest son in a hushed tone, "I hope it never comes to that. Where else could we go? Where the children would be safe?" 

"Didn't Grandfather have investments in America?" Luke asked curiously remembering faintly a story his Father had told him in the past. "A park of some sorts." 

He was thankful to be counted amongst the adult conversations now.

"He did," Christine affirmed, "But I would think it long gone now." 

When they arrived, Winnie gave an angry glance to her siblings and hurried off after her Mother. 

Ilios held Eli back and waited till their Mother and family had long since rounded the corner into the main hall.

"Ready for this?" Ilios asked excitedly biting her lower inner cheek until it felt red and puffy. 

"For what?" Eli moaned, "Ilios we're not even at-" 

"Clara," Ilios beamed, "My Brother." 

Clara's eyes widened as she stepped out from behind the wall. 

"Eli?!" She exclaimed in confusion. 

"Clara?!" Eli gaped, he turned to his sister looking hurt and offended, "You asked Clarice?" 

"Ilios," Clara stammered with a nervous look in Elis direction, "You said I wouldn't know him." 

"You don't know him," Ilios stated firmly, "Not the way I do. I met Chloe last week and I knew she had-" 

Eli clenched his jaw and pursed his lips with such a look of indignation that Ilios quickly stopped talking. 

"Clata my sister clearly has made an error. I'm sorry to bring this up. If you want to leave you may." 

Clara thought over her choices and looked over his fine suit and neatly combed hair. 

Sure he had lied to her. 

Sure he had twisted every fact she had known about him, been a complete and utter jerk and ruined her life. 

But here she was. 

So why not. 

"Do you want me to leave?" She asked nervously. 

"No!" Eli stuttered rather too quickly. 

Ilios gave a small smile and pecked her brother on the cheek. 

"Good Luck," She whispered before picking up her skirts and running after the rest of the party. 

"Ilios!" He roared hissingly after her. "Ilios!" 

Clara played with her gown, adjusting it's bottom so that it trailed behind her. She felt rather silly, dressed up like this for someone like Eli. 

She didn't need to be dressed up for Eli and yet somehow, looking beautiful, him thinking she looked beautiful made her blush heavily. 

"I don't understand," Clara thought to herself in intense frustration, "Nothing has changed." 

"So." Eli sighed leaning up against the wall feeling rather sick. The cold grains of the brink traveled through his vest and relaxed his tense hot nerves.  "What now?" 

Clara looked him over, his perfect prosthetic that allowed them to go anywhere in Paris just as normal people could. 

"Indeed," she sighed leaning up against the wall as well, "What now?" 

Eli finally gave an exasperated groan and kicked the wall angrily with his black dress shoe startling Clara into giving a small little jump. 

He paced back and forth in irritation with a twisted expression on his face. 

She couldn't help but give a laugh, "Did that hurt?" 

He paused and gave her a glance that she thought would be the death of her. But instead, his face softened and he shook his head with a sorry chuckle and nodded. 

"Hurt like heck."

"What's wrong with us," Clara laughed sadly shaking her head. "We're young. We're in Paris." 

Eli shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets, "We're diffrent than the rest of them." 

He gave a small chuckle and gestured with his pointer finger upwards to his face, "Me in more ways than one." 

Clara looked away in shame and Eli closed his eyes feeling his foot throb terribly. 

He was sure he had broken a toe. 

In the silence, he looked her over critically. He wasn't one to lie, her figure had improved in the past year, and her manner and appearance were much more what they ought to be. Less proud and angry, kinder and willing to reason. 

He found himself rather frustrated by her company. Wanting it to be quickly done with and yet, only wishing to understand what strange ideas lay behind it. Why they kept meeting when neither had any business with the other. 

"Have you ever left here?" Clara asked abruptly, breaking his stare at her dress, "Really left here?" 

"No," Eli shrugged, "I've never had the need. When I was younger-" 

"That's a no then." Clara stated knowingly. 

Eli looked at her in confusion, here she was acting as if he were some stranger, making casual conversation and talking away. 

They both well knew of the past why try to bury it now? 

What had changed?

"Monsieur Destler," She said nervously, looking at his eyes pleadingly with uncertainty, "I do believe this is where I take your arm." 

Eli frowned and looked at her outstretched gloved hand. 

His eyes fluttered from her invitation to her face, which was so shrouded in a myriad of emotions that he hardly knew which one was predominant. 

In a silent submissive haze, he offered her his arm. 

She quickly walked forward, a lump forming in her throat, only rivaled by the stinging parchment that was forming on her lips no matter how many times she attempted to rehydrate them. 

"Where are we going?" Eli asked at last as she led him down the main hall and further away from his home in years. 

"The Sein," Clara smiled deftly her eyes fixed forward, "It's beautiful in the moonlight." 

"Beautiful till we fall in from lack of proper guard rails," Eli muttered crossly to himself. 

He looked at her in confusion, seeking some sort of explanation for the sudden change in her demeanor towards him. 

 But she would not turn her head, or allow him to see the small tears that were forming that she herself didn't even know existed. 

"Your a funny sort of kid," Eli noted rather bluntly as soon as they had exited the main doors. 

Clara turned and met his eyes equally with a small frown, "I'm no child anymore Eli." 

The two stood in front of the Opera, eyes locked curiously at one another, neither sure exactly what the purpose of this excursion was, only that they wished it to be so and therefore it was. 

"No," Eli said fixing his black glove, "No indeed you are not." 

She stood to the side of the curb and hastened her hand out waving it like a flag in the wind for a cab. 

He watched in admiration at her knowledge of the simple Parisian airs which had so long escaped him. 

"Come Eli," She said assuringly as the coach pulled up. "We'll be back before long." 

He looked about the strange towering buildings and took in the crisp night air. 

"A dream," he told himself. "One carriage ride and then I'll wake up." 

"Eli," Clara laughed urging him forward, "Are you coming or not?" 

"Coming," Eli muttered. 

He entered the carriage and sat down on the opposite side of her, both staring out opposite windows, content in the silence that the night in Paris provided. 

Clara too wondered if perhaps at any moment, the carriage would halt and she would awaken with a rude start to Sideny putting the kettle on. 

But both agreed, perhaps uncotiously for the first time on one common point. 

If this were to be a dream, 

Neither particaularly wished to be woken up.