Army of Sin - Season 2 - The Gathering

Episode VI - Fred

Location : Eze, France

‘Bonjour, bienvenue au Sanctuaire, Marriel ici." "Hello, welcome to Le Sanctuaire, Marriel speaking."

Gigi smiled as Marriel went through her greeting in both French and English, before responding in her own mix of French and English, "Hallo Cherie, ca va, how are things?"

"Ahh Gigi!" The younger woman greeted with a laugh, "Things are great, kind of slow at the moment, a couple guests are out soaking up some morning sun."

"Lovely!" Gigi replied in the same vein of enthusiasm, "Are there any annoying guests?" She added conspiratorially.

Marriel's voice dropped in response, her laughter coming in quiet bursts of air, "Non Madame. Will you be coming in today?"

"Maybe later for the evening shift, I have some things to take care of at home," Gigi replied, blowing a kiss at her edible - looking husband as he entered the room with sleep - tousled hair and red eyes.

His soft smile which warmed her to the core was still a strange sight to her. Their earlier years of marriage had often found her cuddled next to the rigid warmth of him. Now? Why, now his warmth had a soft taste to its structure. Bidding the woman on the other end of the phone farewell as the chatter increased with the arrival of guests in search of a mid - morning meal, Gigi kissed Salim for real this time, blood already warm from just the sight of him. Pulling back slightly, she searched through the windows of his soul, her touch anchoring him to life in a way very little else did.

"You have to go..." she trailed off, sensing the distance between them although they stood joined at the hip.

"Oui, mon petit chou" he responded in one of his favourite terms of endearment.

"Return to me in one piece," she whispered against his lips.

" - Tu es ma vie, my life," Salim promised before slipping free to begin his preparations.

There would be no further goodbyes for Gigi refused to kiss Salim whenever he entered 'work mode'. The newfound cold of him always left a bitter taste in her mouth, blank eyes replacing their natural warmth as the blinds to his soul became shut. He was good at what he did and she accepted that yet he had been but five years retired and already being called out for 'consultations'. Israel however, had given her the perfect man and for that, she would reluctantly share him. Taking a sip from her glass of red wine, the half empty bottle left on the counter in case the need arose for a refill, Gigi busied herself preparing lunch for her incoming guest, the smell of paprika and sweet peppers light on the air.

True to form, moments later the door closed with a barely audible snick marking her husband's departure. A piece of her heart went out through the door; the only solace, the knowledge that the remaining piece still slept, enjoying his break from school.

Grip tightening on the spoon, she banged it against the rim of the pot before turning the fire off. Turning back to the bottle, her slender fingers scooped up the haphazardly torn piece of paper beneath it that bore Salim's finely scribbled note - Je t’adore mon amour, my love. Her slim fingers curled the slip of paper into the center of her palm as she chugged the remainder of her wine. Mon dieu, she swore mentally, the man was perfect; still finding the time to reinforce his love even as he rushed out the door.

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The sound of a sharp, but brief knuckle tap against the glass followed by the beat of large wings startled her from her contemplation. Fred was here. An ecstatic holler shortly greeted her ears as Louvel's feet hit the ground running. She reached into the cabinet above for the large serving dish she usually put out for Fred, picking up the warm handle of the spoon as she began transferring the food from pot to dish.

Seconds later her gorgeous baby of six years, eleven months came sliding into the kitchen on the socks he usually wore to sleep. "Mon fils, take heed!" Gigi called as he disappeared behind the high counter.

Giggles greeted her ears as he came around the other side of the counter to clamber into his high chair, his golden curls loose, a contrast to the way his mother wore hers - tied in a ponytail that stopped between her shoulder blades. Shaking her head at his reckless abandon, Gigi leaned over to press a kiss against his forehead and into his neck, teasing another giggle out of him.

"Maman!" He huffed breathlessly, eyes brimming in anticipation.

"Louvel?" She asked with an eyebrow raised, maintaining a serious exterior as she bit back a smile.

"Bonjour, Maman."

"Bonjour Louvel, en Anglais?"

"Good morning, Mommy."

"Very good, my sweet boy, remember the English pronounce two o's like a 'u'."

The little boy nodded fiercely, his sponge of a mind absorbing information at high speed. His excitement however could barely be contained as he bounced in his seat. Smiling, heart light once more, Gigi stopped mid-turn as her son used two hands to circle her slim wrist.

"Maman,"

"What is it baby?"

"Why is your face all red?"

"Mommy was drinking some adult grapes baby."

"Can I have some?" He asked, face brightening.

"When you're eighteen," she bargained.

"How much longer is that?" He asked, counting out the answer on his fingers.

"A while yet baby," she offered, smothering his small hand in her own, "Now, are you ready to feed our friend?"

 The matter of her red face effectively put from his mind, he turned to face the back rest of the chair before sliding down legs first until he touched the floor. "Can I carry the bowl this time?"

"Not yet baby, but you can lick the spoon," she offered.

"Okay," he agreed after tapping a finger to his mouth as he weighed his options before stretching his hand out for the wooden spoon. Taking his free hand in her own, the pair of mother and son set off toward the flight of stairs leading to the attic.

Stopping at the door, the pair locked eyes as Gigi's hand lay frozen over the doorknob, the now pristine spoon still clutched between Louvel's hands.

"What are the rules?"

"No pulling on his feathers. No talking to him until after he eats," he recited the rules.

"Good," she nodded, before twisting the knob to allow them both entrance.

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The attic was without clutter. After all, having a minor that frequented its expanse required as dust free an environment as possible. Minute particles danced in the ray of light that beamed through the open window as the wood creaked beneath their feet with every step. Near the window sat a small coffee table surrounded by three wooden, folding chairs. Shielding from the glare, Gigi's downcast eyes fell on their guest even as Louvel slipped free to run to the smallest of the three seats. She allowed him his breach of the rules as she always did; innocent wonder always overpowering his fragile discipline.

Besides, it was not everyday that a child was allowed to sit while an angel ate a home-cooked, human meal...

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