Yesteryear
By: TheGoddessofDeath

A/N: Written on a whim. I really enjoyed Linguni and Colette's relationship in the movie. So, this I have been writing since July. Writing and I don't get along too well nowadays. Enjoy.

He did not realize he had lost his hat until the motorcycle stopped at a traffic light and their laughter had died down. That was when Linguini looked behind him, looking for the lost article. "Colette... I dropped my toque..." he said, wanting to jump off and run back, but the female in front of him flashed him a soft smile over her shoulder. "We have spares back at the restaurant. Come on, forget about it."

The light turned green and the two took off again, Linguini still looking behind them to see if he could see what he had dropped. After a while, even he realized it was useless and that Little Chef would go back to the apartment most likely. Things would be okay when they saw each other tomorrow. For now, this was time to spend with his new lover.

Colette drove them through the backroads of Paris, loving the arms of the other around her. It was the first time in a very long time she had been held in anyone's arms, and Linguini's touch was gentle and serene. It was comforting in all the right ways...

The pain in her arm returned again and she groaned, stopping the motorcycle suddenly. "I'm sorry..." she whispered, and Linguini did not know if it was aimed at him or at someone else.

"Colette?" the redheaded boy asked cautiously, "What's the matter?"

The female shook her head lightly, kicking the motorcycle back into gear and taking off like a shot.

They did not stop again until they got to the outskirts of the city, where civilization ended and grass reigned in its natural kingdom. The royal blue sky was beautiful, and Linguini could not help but think how it looked like Colette's beautiful eyes. As the lights from the city faded fast behind them, he almost felt as if he and the woman in front of him were the only two human beings in the world.

It was not long before the engine of the motorcycle was killed, the kickstand put down and, reluctantly, Linguini took his arms from around her. Whatever weird occurrence that had happened back in the city had disappated as they drove, and Colette was smiling again. "Know how to climb a tree?"

"Of course I do!" he said, wanting to impress her. He had little else going for him. However, Linguini, like most of the other tasks he did in his daily life, handled the tree climbing with little grace. The female with him rolled her eyes, taking his hand and pulling him up.

The view was breathtaking. One could see all of Paris from there. The lights dotted the landscape with the Eiffel tower standing as a centerpiece in the grand city. "Wow... it's beautiful..." was all the young male could come up with.

"This was my favorite spot as a child. You see that house over there?" She nodded her head toward a small house in the distance. Linguini nodded, and Colette smiled. "I grew up there. That's my parent's home."

The male smiled himself, nodding slightly and starting when the female nuzzled up against him. "I only bring the people I really like up here."

Linguini had never been in love before. Sure, he had had the adolescent crushes on the girls he sat next to in class, but this was different. Even though they had only known each for a short while, Linguini was almost certain that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with this woman.

"So... you like me, then?" he asked sheepishly, letting his arm rest around her waist.

A slight nod of her head, she nestled against him as they gazed out upon the scene before them. "It has been a long time since I've had a lover. A very long time. My last lover was when I still lived here, actually."

Like any other male, the opportunity to learn about a girl's past boyfriend was taken. "So, what was he like?"

"Well, his name was Pablo. He was a foreign exchange student from Spain, and man, could he play soccer. He was going to become a professional soccer player, he told me. We met in Physics in my last year of secondary school. We talked for a while before falling in love. We adored each other so much, that we promised we would meet again and get married. The night before he left, we both cut our arms," she rolled back her sleeve to show him one of the fainter scars on her inner forearm, "to seal our promise to each other."

"So you waited, then? Why aren't you still waiting?" Linguini's voice had a tinge of unconscious jealousy to it.

"Simple," Colette answered. "This scar is now just a foolish reminder of my teenage years. He went back to Spain, became a big star, and married in a few years. I let him go. It was hard, but I did. Then one night... after I came home from culinary school... I saw it on the news. Pablo was dead. Snapped his neck in half while playing. 'Landed on it the wrong way', they said. I wept all night and was depressed for days after."

Linguini felt her muscles beginning to tense, and he knew she was getting agitated by the subject. "Then I realized I wasn't going to get anywhere by crying over him. You know those movies you see on the television late at night that are so sugarcoated you could get diabetes? Life is not really like that. Love beyond death, such a stupid concept..."

Colette realized she was ranting again. She laughed nervously and sighed. "Anyway, I let his spirit rest in peace ever since, and I moved on. You're probably thinking, 'yes, now I know why Colette is why she is'. No, you don't. I haven't had a lover since then because no one has caught my eye. I was afraid of being hurt again. Afraid that if I let another man into my life that I was setting myself up to be weak. Until..." the tone in her voice decreased in fierceness, and she swallowed hard. "...I met you."

The male remembered their first encounter. He laughed nervously.

Colette continued her train of thought, turning her eyes back to his. "I didn't want to fall in love with you... but I guess that's too late now."

Listening to her recount her past to him left Linguini speechless. "Colette... I..."

"Don't be sorry or thankful or say you understand," she said, pressing her finger to his lips. "There's only one thing I want to hear out of you."

He looked confused, but he gave it a guess. "I love you, Colette," was the only thing he could come up with.

"Good answer," she chided, pressing her lips to his gently.

Linguini had never kissed anyone romantically before that morning, so he was still a bit clumsy at it. He loved the way his stomach jolted when their lips glided over each other's, and how when Colette licked his lips he opened his mouth obediently. He had no doubt in his mind now why it was called a "french kiss".

He felt himself becoming aroused by the whole experience, but he silently told his body no and he pulled away from the female as if he had been burned. He did not want her to notice the changes she had caused to his body. "Sorry," Linguini had to mutter at Colette's confused, if not slightly hurt, expression.

The female noticed, however, what Linguini was trying to hide as he crossed one leg over the other. She laughed, pushing him in the shoulder gently. "Men. You're all the same."

"All the... same?" he asked, happy for the distraction that presented itself.

"Yes. I grew up with two older brothers. I know a little bit about the other sex."

Linguini looked surprised. "You have two brothers?"

Colette looked to her new beau again. "Well, if we're lovers now, then no secrets, right?"

Linguini swallowed hard, his heartbeat rising but nodding in an affirmative. Colette noticed the subtle change in him at the mention of "secrets', but this was Linguini she was dealing with. He was quirky, if that was even the word for it. "All right. I am assuming you're the only child, am I right?"

Another nod.

"Well, being the youngest child, and the only child of your gender in the house, you have to unfortunately compete for your parent's attention or you get lost. Sure, for a while I was papa and mama's little girl, but when I got older and could stand on my own, I found that to get anywhere I had to outshine my brothers. I could not let my guard down for a moment or I could lose it all. I guess... that mindset never left... even after the three of us moved on. I had to outdo everyone in culinary school as well... and well, I wasn't going to let myself get into anything less than the best restaurant in Paris, which at the time was Gusteau's. Once I got in, I was tough enough to make myself known, and it worked. I am admired and important to that staff. I am living my dream."

It was then Linguini realized that Colette was still hiding something. "So, what about your parents? Did they ever take notice?"

The tensing of the muscles again. Linguini regretted even asking.

"We... didn't part on such... good terms. If the fact their darling daughter dating a foreigner wasn't enough of an embarrassment to them, it was that their daughter actually wanted to be a chef. 'A gourmet kitchen is no place for a woman,' they told me. Joaquin and Claude both became buisnessmen. Fine, outstanding men. Joaquin is a diplomat over in the United States and Claude runs a huge fashion line in London. You would think since I was the only one who stayed locally they'd want to see me more. They actually told me not to come back if I did become a chef. I did, so I haven't walked through their door since."

Linguini looked sympathetically over at the other, who seemed preoccupied with the house in the distance. He didn't say anything, couldn't say anything. C'mon Linguini... this is your beau... make her feel better...

As he opened his mouth to say something, however, she looked back to him with melancholy eyes that were uncharacteristic of Colette, but were not unflattering to her facial features. He decided to shut his mouth. What he was going to say didn't seem important anymore now that she looked to him like that. "I may be important to the staff at Gusteau's... but to them I'm nothing."

It was hard for Linguini to comprehend. He had been the light of his mother's life, and she always told him she would love him no matter what he decided to do. He had no father. He never had one. His mother told him that he was dead, and that had ended all talk of that subject rather quickly, as Linguini saw how it upset his mother so.

"They have to be proud of you, Colette. You've done so much-"

Colette had become very quiet. Her face showed nothing: no contempt or anger or sadness. Eyes of a violet hue were fixed on that small house on the horizon. Dawn was starting to peek from around it, and he knew they would not be sleeping tonight.

"Colette," the redhead started again, "Parents like to say things they don't mean to detain us. In your case you went with it anyway, but I'm sure they miss you and want to see you again."

The female looked to her partner, smiling gently to him. "Thank you, chérie," she said in a voice barely above a whisper as their faces came together again for a lingering kiss.

When they broke apart, she leaned on his chest, happy to just be in his arms. It had been so long. She would not come out and admit it, but she really had missed the touch and love of another human being.

As the sun peeked over the horizon, the land glowing in a contemptuous Spanish orange light, the pair's eyes looked over to the small house once again. "So..." Linguini started, "Do you want to go over there and see your parents?"

Colette looked up to him, back at the house for another long minute, and then back up to him again. "Not now," she said softly. "Just watch the sunrise with me."

The two said nothing else for a long while, watching the sun ascend higher and higher to take it's place in the sky for the day. After what seemed like forever and nothing, Colette stirred from his arms. "Come on," she said, moving to climb down the tree. "We have to get back to Paris. Breakfast on me?" she asked as her feet hit the ground and his not long after.

"But, what about your parents?"

Colette looked over to the house again, shaking her head. "One step at a time, dearest," she said with a smile, kissing his cheek. "Come on."

Once she was sure he was on the motorcycle with her, she smirked to him over her shoulder, "Hold on," before taking off like a flash back toward the city that lied beyond.