Well, again I'm back and no, to anyone who cares, I have not abandoned Cryin'; simply taking time away from it. Anyway, I was watching 'Titanic' the other day and a thought popped into my head; who was Madame Bijoux's long lost love? I've basically given away the idea behind this story completely, however I thought, why not write it? If someone else has done it, I do apologise and I will take it down; it's really not that important.

Summary: Who was Madame Bijoux waiting for every night in the Parisian bar?

Warnings: None

Disclaimer: I obviously don't own the Titanic. A, I would be dead by now; B, I would be loaded and C, I wouldn't be writing fan fiction about a film now would I? All story rights, names, places etc belong to James Cameron and his production company.

Dedication: For Sammy, Whitey, Mara, Qwan, Emz and the rest of the guys; for you, I didn't have to pretend; thanks for being there.

If you want to use it; just tell me where it's going, drop me a line, Veritas.

Paris, 1876

'Frédéric; it has been a long time'

As the cloud of smoke dissipated, three men could be made out. One portly, short and silent, claiming he was retaining his opinion for such a time when it mattered; a tall and slight gentleman, enrobed in his finery and finally, standing above the two suit-clad men, stood the awaited Frédéric. His blue eyes glittered as the tall man rose to meet him. Firm handshakes were exchanged between all of them, each eying the other as if daring him to compete against his elegance. However, there really was no contest.

'Indeed it has Mathieu; indeed it has' he replied as he was forcefully pushed into a leather-covered chair.

Out of the corner of his eye, Mathieu observed, albeit not closely that Frédéric had not aged in the five years they had been apart. The young man before him was an adult now, though not elderly or aged. He was twenty-five years to the day and was blooming gracefully.

'I trust your birthday has proceeded as planned?' Mathieu inquired busily, pouring Frédéric a small measure of the foul liquid he and the portly man drank every day. If it really was Brandy as the gentlemen claimed, Frédéric vowed he would never touch the stuff outside their company. However, nothing slipped by the two and he was forced to drink the liqueur while they looked on beadily.

'Oui, it has' replied Frédéric grudgingly, his mother tongue drifting smoothly out of his mouth as he lied. Of course it had not proceeded to plan; he thought sharply, Anne was not there. Those who knew this man well, would have had to ask as to whom Anne was because even now, four years after meeting her, Frédéric remained silent and private about the woman who had stolen his heart. What made this harder was the fact that sitting before him was Anne's father. The portly man, or Laurent as he was known, would have his head if it ever was revealed that he was to give his daughter away to a man with 'limited means' as they called him. In other words, a poor guy or a gutter rat. His family never tired of telling him that aristocracy was not suited to him and he should take in a trade rather than waste his time with the 'girl who cannot be named'. For that was what his family knew about Anne; she was a girl of high status who Frédéric had fallen in love with and so far, (or so thought the family), the love had lain unrequited. The deception for Frédéric and Anne was plainly torturous, but it was the cost of staying together, something neither was willing to jeopardise.

Frédéric sighed and looked up; a vision momentarily caught his eye. Amidst the endless droning of the men before him, there was an almost hazy light ahead and through the cigarette smoke puffed over him, there was sitting by the bay window the reason he sat appalling himself willingly. Anne, his beauty, remained perched on a cushioned window seat, pretending not to notice him. Her long golden blond hair cascaded around her, escaping from the loose French plait she often had it tied in. From this distance, he could not see her eyes but she was a beautiful woman nonetheless and Frédéric longed for the time when he could once again gaze freely into their emerald depths. His breath caught in his throat as she turned her gaze to him, coyly and slowly catching his eye before turning back to the window with a knowing smile and a nod. He could see in the window that her reflection remained staring at him and with a slight nod to the grand door, she rose gracefully and left, her gaze fixed forward.

Frédéric smiled slightly and cleared his throat. "Excusez-moi, gentlemen" he said politely, "I have urgent business to attend to, do forgive me won't you?" Without a second backward glance, Frédéric rose and left, leaving the two men as they were, oblivious to his intended rudeness and without the sense to look affronted. Leaving the room came with such ease to Frédéric that he could have offended himself with his impoliteness had he not been occupied by more pressing matters. The hall was a generally quiet place as the building had many visitors that wished not to be disturbed. Because of this reason service in the place was limited to the doormen and kitchen staff and the few who managed to wheedle their way into high society. The grand double front doors lay open to the greenery of Paris and on the stone steps, the spun gold of her hair catching the glint of the sun, sat Anne, he head resting gently on her hand.

Silently yet swiftly, he made his way towards her and stopped behind her, waiting for admission, the pause killing him for the torturous pain. For a moment there was nothing, no movement, no sound, nothing. A small twitch, a slight clue to her next action was allowed forth before Anne leapt from her seat and was swept into her beloved's arms. Frédéric leant forwards and pressed a gentle kiss upon her soft lips, closing his eyes and wishing with all his might he would not have to let her go. The magic was broken as he felt tears that were not his on his cheeks.

"Anne," he whispered gently, pulling away gently and smoothing a wayward strand of gold from the woman's brow. "Anne? Que-est-ce que c'est? Plait?"

She looked into his eyes, her own red and bleary,

"I missed you. I missed you so much. Every day and every night I longed for you and yet you would not come." She looked away uncertainly.

"I promise you," he answered her with renewed force, "wherever I am, I am always with you. I promise you that."

"I love you, Frédéric." She whispered gently to him, nearing him slowly.

"As I love you, Anne, as I love you to the end of the world." He replied as he pulled her into a further bittersweet kiss before he pulled away again.

"Come with me, my fallen angel" he hushed gently, "let me take you away."

He took her hand and led her away, the world in his hand and only theirs that night. And it was that night that Anne no longer wished for Frédéric in her arms. As the moon glowed with its eerie beauty and the stars glittered in their velvet sky, the lovers slept peacefully and secretly in each other's arms.

Well, that's Chapter One, I hope you liked it. I don't plan and so if I don't write very soon then, it's not because I can't be bothered, it is because of lack of ideas. But plans just ruin the surprise which takes the spark out of writing don't you think? Anyway this is unbeta'd (for this Falcy will destroy me, runs and hides) and is also hot off the press as it were so is possibly riddled with errors.

Also another small request and announcement. Due to a new rule set up by the site, I can no longer reply to anonymous reviews without an email address, I will reply to all reviews left on my story if I can but I can't if there is no email address or if you haven't signed in etc etc.

Anyway thank you for reading, I shall see you soon, many thanks and much love

xVeritas Indolentia Adamox