June 4th, 2014, Paris, France.

For the first time in over a week, Sabine was woken by something other than a nightmare. While she would have preferred it to be her alarm clock, the car down on the street below managed to rouse her perfectly well.

Béatrice was asleep beside her in the bed, and the little girl’s rosy cheek was resting on her forearm as she snored lightly. She looked exhausted, but then, she had every right in the world to be. They had gotten back to Claire’s apartment at a little after two in the morning, and the girl had slept almost the entire way home. By the time Sabine got her to bed, it had been almost three.

Easing herself upright in bed, Sabine pushed her hair out of her eyes and stretched. It felt strange to be free after a week of almost constant fear and tension. The world outside the window seemed brighter somehow, the sky more blue, and the air sweeter. She felt happy, and that was a relatively new feeling for her. In truth, she barely remembered what it felt like.

Her eyes fell upon the small wrapped gift from Francesca that was sitting on top of the dresser. What had she said? To open it when she had decided on her future? It was so very like Francesca to leave her a riddle like that.

Easing herself carefully out of the bed and being careful not to wake Amélie, Sabine made her way across the room and picked up the small box. It was perhaps four or five inches square and a couple of inches deep. It did not feel particularly heavy, but somehow, it she knew that it carried a great weight.

Francesca’s words played over in her mind as Sabine slowly unwrapped the box. Inside, there was a simple cardboard gift box in plain black. Lifting the lid, she was met first with a folded piece of paper, and beneath it, a pair of pill bottles. Sabine’s heart raced as she picked up the paper and unfolded it to reveal a handwritten note within;

“Alessandra,

I hope that by the time you read this message, you are safe. I did not know you for long, but you had a great impact on my life. When you returned to me, it filled me with more joy than I can properly communicate. It was as if a small piece of my heart returned and filled my life again with light.

By the time you open this box, I believe that you will have made a very important decision about the rest of your life. It will be a difficult road, but know that I will be there for you the entire way. Life is not always so simple, and sometimes it takes great courage to live it authentically.

The two bottles contained within are the key to your future, and I believe I do not need to tell you what they are. If you choose to take them, then I will make sure that you have all you need to see this journey through.

Be strong and be brave for little Béatrice. I know you will be the mother that she needs and that she will be the daughter that you deserve.

ama sempre

Francesca.”

Placing the note down on the dresser, Sabine cautiously removed the two bottles from the box and examined them. She knew what they contained, and yet, there was nothing particularly remarkable about the two bottles. Each one contained a quantity of non-descript pills and a label that described the dosage and frequency of administration. Sabine sat down on the edge of the bed, still clutching the two bottles tightly in her hand. She could feel her heart racing as she considered the ramifications of what they contained.

Looking up, Sabine caught sight of herself in the mirror by the door. She was wearing a shapeless, oversized t-shirt that reached down to her knees, and her blonde hair was loose and tousled by sleep. She looked unremarkable, but she looked like herself. The thought of that alone struck her like a ton of bricks.

This had felt right to her once, a long time ago in a quiet house in the Lombardy countryside. She had discovered a version of herself that seemed to fit properly at last, and it was a discovery that had frightened her a great deal. She was not meant to have those feelings; they were not what a boy should want or need. The very idea had filled her with shame and confusion.

Operation Orsino had hurt her so much; Her fledgling experiences of womanhood had been poisoned by the violent nightmare she had suffered at the hands of those men. It was only natural that she would retreat back into herself in an attempt to bury the pain. The only problem was that she had not retreated into herself; she had retreated into Ryan. Sabine had attached the horrors that she experienced to her burgeoning womanhood and blamed it for what had been forced upon her. It made the very idea of exploring her femininity impossible to consider.

Then she met Béatrice, and together they took flight. Together, fate had guided them back to Milan and the one person capable of seeing her for who she truly was. Francesca Ricci had always seen her, from that first moment at the house in the countryside to their arrival back on her doorstep. Somehow, that woman had managed to see through the miserable young man and comfort the young woman who was dying inside.

Sabine glanced at the child beside her and smiled. They were safe now, and they had a chance. She would not squander it by living in the past. She had told herself once that Alessandra had given her life so that Ryan could live, but she had been wrong; the girl had lived. She had lived deep inside her the entire time, gilding her and keeping her safe. The ghost of the girl who had been had watched over her until she was ready to live again.

It was the girl who had seen little Béatrice and dared to carry her away from danger. It was the girl who had taken them to Milan and back into Francesca’s waiting arms. She had dried her tears and held her hand while she found her feet.

Sabine knew now that the time to run was over. She was safe now, unreachable by the lies of Gregary Edwards and the hands of the men who had hurt her so long ago. For the first time in her life, she was going to choose what made her happy, and she would feel no shame. She would live for herself, and she would live for her daughter.

Sabine watched her reflection in the mirror as she reached down and opened the pill bottles one at a time. Shaking out a pill from each, she held them up and stared at them for a moment. Before she could change her mind, she slipped the pills into her mouth, tipped her head back, and swallowed.

 

 

August 12th, 1999, Eagle Lake, Colorado.

“What’s your name?”

Ryan was sitting on the floating dock, dipping his toes in the cool water of Eagle Lake, when he heard the voice. Looking up, he spotted the girl standing a few feet behind him. “I’ m sorry?”

“Your name…” The girl prompted, crossing her arms uncertainly, “I’m Sarah, we’re in the Cabin down the lake.”

“Uh, Ryan.”

Sarah sat down next to Ryan and flicked a few drops across the still surface of the lake. She was about Ryan’s height and had long dark hair that came down past her shoulder blades. She was wearing a Bright green one-piece swimsuit under a pair of purple shorts; it was a spunky combination, and Ryan liked the color a great deal.

“So do you guys come up here a lot?”

“Kinda,” Ryan admitted uncertainly. He had seen the girl around the lake before, but he had never actually spoken to her. That went for most of the other kids his age, he supposed. “We come up here most summers.”

“Yeah, same,” Sarah grinned. “I’ve seen you about, but I never really had the chance to come say hey. There aren’t exactly many girls our age here.”

Ryan balked at the girl’s comment. He opened his mouth to reply, but held his tongue for some reason. Gazing down at their reflections in the water, he almost understood her mistake. He was wearing a pair of shorts that he had probably grown out of last summer and a tank top that he rarely swam without. His blonde hair was loose about his shoulders, and his frame still held a pubescent softness.

Puberty had yet to strike Ryan Knight particularly hard. While his classmates shot up and bulked out, grew hair and deeper voices, Ryan had lagged behind. While he hated the bullying and he knew that he was supposed to want all those things, he struggled to find any real disappointment in his current state.

Did he really look like a girl, though? According to this girl, he did. Enough that she had seen him more than once over the years and still believed it to be true. The strangest part was that he didn’t hate the idea.

“So where are you guys from?”

“Maryland,” Ryan offered. “You?”

“Texas,” Sarah beamed. “My Mom is from Boulder, so she wants us to experience what she did when she was a kid.”

“You have a brother, right?” Ryan asked, feeling like he had to contribute to the back and forth.

“A year older than me, he’s sixteen,” Sarah nodded, “Boys suck.”

“I uh, they can sure suck,” Ryan conceded. While his point of reference was the not infrequent bullying that he experienced as a high school sophomore, he was positive that Sarah meant it in an entirely different way. For some reason, he wanted to share in a moment of camaraderie with this girl and for her to like him.

“There are some cute ones,” Sarah admitted. “There are two boys I met at the boat dock the other day, they were gorgeous. Do you have a boyfriend?”

“I uh, no,” Ryan choked, turning bright red.

“Aww, you’re bashful, it’s cute. Come on, there must be some boys you like, right?” Sarah nudged Ryan with her elbow. “You’re pretty, even if you do go for the whole tomboy vibe.”

Ryan wasn’t sure what to say to the girl. He had never been described as pretty before in his life, and it was an unusually pleasing feeling. He justified the little spark of happiness at Sarah’s words by declaring to himself that anybody would be pleased to get a compliment, boy or girl.

“Ryan! Dinner!”

Ryan made a face and kicked the water one last time before pulling himself up from the dock. “That’s my Mom, she’s going to kill me if I’m late.”

Sarah rolled her eyes, “Totally get it, mine’s the same. She’s always on my back about something; it's such a bummer.”

“It was nice to meet you,” Ryan offered with a small, awkward wave, honestly meaning it for the first time.

“Yeah, totally, glad I came over,” Sarah admitted. “I’m normally such a bookworm, and I hate meeting strange people, but you’re cool. You should come over and hang sometime, we can swim and do stuff.”

“I’d… like that,” Ryan smiled. “See you around?”

Sarah dove in and hugged Ryan before he was able to think of an excuse to avoid it. After a moment’s hesitation, he allowed his hands to give the girl a squeeze in return before she let go. With a final wave, Sarah took off at a jog back down the lakeshore, leaving Ryan to watch her go in a bewildered fog.

Shaking his head, Ryan walked slowly back up to the Cabin where his mother was waiting by the door. “She seems nice. Did you make a friend?”

Ryan hesitated before nodding, “Yeah, I think so.”

“What’s her name?”

“Sarah,” Ryan admitted with a frown. “Mom, do I look like a girl?”

Abigail Knight inclined her head, “What brought this on, darling?”

“Sarah,” Ryan indicated the distant figure running along the shore. “She thinks that I’m a girl, like her.”

Abigail Knight frowned, “I don’t think you do, darling. Maybe the puberty fairy is a little late turning up, but you’re perfect exactly the way you are.” She paused, “Did that bother you?”

Ryan thought about it for a moment, “No?”

Abigail eyed her son for a moment before stroking his hair affectionately, “Well, you’re my child, and I love you, ok?”

Ryan smiled, “Yeah, Mom, I love you too.”

“If you ever want to talk to us about anything, you can. I want you to know that, ok?”

“Oh yeah, sure,” Ryan replied, trying to sound casual, despite the flush of sudden panic that rushed through his system. “Totally.”

Why had Sarah decided that he was a girl? Why had he not corrected her and instead allowed her to continue on believing it? Worse yet, why had it made him feel… happy?

 

 

June 4th, 2014, Paris, France.

Sabine smiled as she fingered the old photograph of her younger self up at the Eagle Lake cabin. She missed her parents a great deal, and their deaths had been very hard on her at the time. It had been more than a young adult was capable of processing, and she had never really allowed herself to grieve the time they lost. Somehow, if it were possible, she missed them even more now than ever.

Her parents had loved her, she knew that, but she did wonder what they would think if they could see her today. What would they think of their only child sitting outside the Ambassador’s office at the American Embassy in Paris? That same child, wearing a smart skirt suit with makeup and her hair in a neat bun, looked like the epitome of a professional woman.

Sabine liked to imagine that they would have loved her and that they might have accepted their daughter with the same love they had always shown her. As she gazed down at that photograph, she pursed her lips. Was it not the ghosts who were meant to have unfinished business, rather than the living?

“Ma’am, they’re ready for you,” The executive assistant who was seated at her desk called out, snatching Sabine’s attention away from the photograph.

“Thank you,” she replied quietly, slipping the photograph back into her bag as she stood up. Smoothing Claire’s suit jacket, she caught her reflection in an ornate mirror mounted on the wall. Tucking a stray hair back into place behind her ear, took a careful breath and knocked on the large Baroque door to the Ambassador’s office. 

Director Rawlings had called her that morning and told her that she would be meeting not just with him, but senior figures from the Agency and State Department. The news had prompted an intensive makeover from Claire before she had been allowed to leave the apartment.

“Enter.”

Sabine eased the heavy door open and stepped inside the room. She had never been inside the Ambassador’s office before, and she was a little surprised by its palatial decoration. The space felt more like a drawing room at the Palace of Versailles than a diplomat’s functional space. Closing the door behind her, she stood politely as she waited to be addressed.

“Well, don’t just stand there, come in, come in, sit down, Miss?”

“Knight, Sir,” Sabine offered, approaching the three men sitting at the Ambassador’s desk. “Sabine Knight.”

“So this is the one?” Frederick Addams, the Ambassador, raised an eyebrow as he glanced across at Christian Rawlings. The pair were sat with another man that Sabine only knew by reputation; Michael Farthing, the Ambassador’s chief of staff.

“I did tell you, Fred, it’s been quite the surprise for me too.”

The Ambassador walked around the desk and offered Sabine his hand, “Chris here has been telling me that the whole idea to blame this shitstorm on the terrorists was your idea, huh? Pretty solid idea that, you got yourself a future in diplomacy. The French certainly loved it, and that sure made my life a lot easier. I can tell you, they were ready to haul me over the coals this morning.”

“Uh, yes, Sir,” Sabine replied uncertainly as she shook the man’s hand. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Right, now that we’re all here, Mike, can you hook in Langley?”

The Chief of Staff nodded and reached for a remote control. Pressing a few buttons, the monitor beside the Ambassador’s desk lit up and connected to a video call that had been on hold. After a few seconds, Sabine was staring at Jeremy Blackwell, the Director of the Central Intelligence Agency, in his office back at Langley.

“Ambassador Addams, Christian, Mister Farthing,” Blackwell acknowledged, “And I assume that this is Officer Knight?” the man asked, raising an eyebrow.

While Sabine had been expecting to sit down with the Rawlings and the Ambassador, she had not expected to be facing the Director himself. Jeremy Blackwell was a well-regarded figure in the Agency, having served for thirty years in the trenches with the very people he now commanded. He had risen through the ranks to the lofty air of the Seventh floor, having previously held Rawling’s current job. It was a rare career path, given that the post of Director was often a party political football to push an administration’s agenda.

“Yes, it is, Jerry,” Christian Rawlings offered. “Not quite how we left her, it would seem, but definitely Knight.”

“Yeah, I see that,” Blackwell smiled slightly. “Do you want to explain this whole business first? That way, we can get it off the plate and focus on the business at hand.”

Sabine blushed. If someone had told her a week ago that she would be explaining her personal identity to the Director of the CIA, she would have laughed them out of the building. As it was, she was so out of her depth that she decided to simply go with the flow.

“I’m a woman, but I wasn’t born that way,” Sabine admitted succinctly. “I could go into depth and explain my childhood, but that’s not relevant to the matter at hand. It was something that I resisted for years and eventually suppressed after an Agency operation that I was involved with went bad.”

“Ah, yes, I know that one,” Blackwell nodded. “Why now?”

“Simply put, it made sense; A man and a child are far more visible when traveling alone,” Sabine pointed out. “I expected that they would have a BOLO out to Interpol: That would have had everyone on the lookout for exactly that pairing. A mother and a child didn’t get a second look.”

Rawlings nodded, “We did, and it was damn useless as you can imagine.”

Blackwell shook his head, “We need to stop training our people so well, or we’ll never catch the bastards when they go bad.” The man suddenly looked sheepish, “Ah, sorry, I should watch my language in mixed company.”

“It’s fine, Sir,” Sabine waved a hand. “I’ve heard worse.”

“So yes, what were you saying? You had to run and?”

“It was pointed out to me that the legend I assumed for Orsino was particularly relevant to traveling solo with a child,” Sabine admitted. “As much as that was difficult for me at first, I have to agree it made the most sense.”

“But it’s not just a tactical decision, yes? You seem to be telling us that this is... a more long-term thing?”

“Yes, Sir,” Sabine nodded. “I suppose, finally being forced to face my demons and caring for Béatrice Laurent made me see things differently. I blamed my womanhood on what happened all those years ago. The truth was, I was afraid of being happy.”

“I don’t understand it, but I don’t need to,” Blackwell shrugged. “If it makes you more effective as an intelligence officer, then that’s all that matters to me. The Agency is only as strong as its people.”

Sabine nodded, unsure what to say to the man’s remark.

“I suppose it makes sense that you would go to Signora Ricci,” Blackwell shook his head and smiled. “Can’t believe these idiots didn’t think to check with her.”

The man chuckled when he saw the look of surprise on Sabine’s face. “Oh, come now, you don’t think I got to be Director without knowing all the big players? Especially ones who we have roped in on jobs in the past?”

“I suppose that makes sense, Sir,” Sabine conceded. “She helped me a great deal, more than I can ever repay.”

“Formidable woman,” Blackwell nodded. “So, let's get to brass tacks; tell us from the very beginning exactly what happened and how.”

Over the next hour, Sabine retold the story that changed her life in minute detail. She explained the events in Nice, her flight with Béatrice, Francesca’s assistance, and her actions in Paris.  Every moment, every decision, and every piece of evidence that led her to the present day.

The men in the room listened diligently, only stopping her to ask clarifying questions and probe her decision-making. Retelling everything from the very beginning was surprisingly cathartic for Sabine. In many ways, she had compartmentalized the events of the past week, separating them into different acts like an operatic performance. When confronted with the whole, she could scarcely believe that she had survived. A small voice in the darkest corner of her mind told her that if she had remained Ryan, this would not have been the case.

“I have to say, it’s a damn good job that the bastard is dead,” Blackwell sighed, removing his glasses and rubbing his nose. “Damned mess.”

“Agreed,” Addams offered. “Thankfully, everything zips up neatly. It’s a bonus that the French Minister of the Interior is a former DGSE man himself, so he appreciates how it can be with bad apples. He’s perfectly happy to go with the terror cell story: A US-French cooperative effort to bring them down will save face all around and get us out of a sticky spot.”

Sabine leaned forward, “Can I ask, how many died in Nice? I never did find out.”

“Twenty-two,” Addams sighed. “Terrible business.”

Sabine bit her lip, “That brings me onto something rather important; Béatrice Laurent.”

“Indeed,” Ambassador Addams nodded, reaching into his desk for a manila folder, “Minister Moreau’s people did some digging; Marianne Laurent had no living family. As such, this means that in normal circumstances, a child like Béatrice will be taken into the care of the state and placed up for adoption. Rather tragic business, really.”

“Sir, I really think...”

Addams held up a hand to stop the panicked Sabine’s impassioned plea. Sliding the folder across the desk towards her, he smiled, “Thanks to your imaginatively acquired identity documents, Moreau can say with a straight face that it was French forces that brought down the terror cell and stopped further bloodshed. Given your connection to the child and the lengths you went to to save her life, he has graciously offered you the opportunity to formally adopt her, if you so choose.”

“Yes.”

“Now I suggest you take…”

“No, I’ll do it,” Sabine insisted. “I can’t explain it, and you probably all think I’m crazy, but I love that girl more than my own life. I would have died for her, and on several occasions this week I nearly did. I would be overjoyed to be her mother for real. She’s the part of me that I never knew existed.”

Addams smiled broadly, “Based on what Christian has said, and the testimony from Ms Patterson, I had a feeling that would be your answer.”

Sabine’s heart was thumping against her ribcage as she sat back, blushing at her own impetuosity, “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“Stop apologising, woman!” The ambassador laughed. “Best outcome, and all that.”

“I know this seems like a secondary concern,” Blackwell added. “But obviously, your future with the Company is going to be an important question from here.”

“You’re letting me go?” Sabine asked, her jubilation suddenly evaporating.

“God, no,” Blackwell shook his head. “The Agency let you down this week, we let Tom Spencer down, and we made a fucking mess. It would be your right to walk away and never look back. I would respect your decision, but I would be remiss to point out that you would be a major loss to the Agency.”

“Agreed,” Rawlings nodded. “Mr Sutherland from our Special Operations Group spoke incredibly highly of you. You’ve shown phenomenal resolve, ingenuity, and bravery to push ahead and finish the mission.”

“Most importantly, you did so while maintaining the philosophy of integrity and professionalism that we value the most,” Blackwell pointed out. “I want you to take some time off, but if you choose to come back, I’d like to offer you Edwards old role, Senior Field Intelligence Officer, and a team lead position. It’s clear that you have much to give, if you choose to do so.”

“Even knowing… what I am?“

Blackwell shook his head, “As I said, I don’t have to understand it, but even I can see that this is undoubtedly your path. Others may make your life difficult, but it won’t be the agency.

Sabine blinked. During the events of the last week, she had come to terms with the reality that she might never serve her country again. The documents from Francesca had, after all, been designed to help her flee and find a new life with her daughter. The idea that she might be able to do both had never crossed her mind.

“Tell you what, take that time off and make your mind up. The job is yours if you want to come back to it,” Blackwell offered. “You and that child of yours go get to know each other properly without looking over your shoulders, that’s an order.”

“Yes, Sir,” Sabine smiled. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you, and on behalf of the Central Intelligence Agency, I am sorry,” Blackwell offered. “This business cost us a damn good man and nearly let a bad one go free. You went above and beyond the call of duty, and it nearly cost you your life.”

“I just did what was right,” Sabine admitted quietly. “It’s what Tom would have done.”

“It is,” Blackwell nodded. “He’d have been damn proud of you, you know.”

Addams gestured toward the door, “We have some matters to finish up here, so why don’t you get a head start on that vacation? I think there are some people outside looking for you.”

Sabine stood and smoothed her skirt, “Thank you, all of you. I’m still trying to find my feet after what has been a damn crazy experience. I want to stay on if you’ll have me. I care about this job, and I care about the people doing it. I’ll get myself squared away, Sir,” Sabine addressed the Director primarily, but made sure she looked at the others around the table. Taking her leave, she let herself out of the Ambassador’s office.

When she had been called into the meeting that morning, Sabine had anticipated many varying outcomes, with a reasonable number being highly unfavorable for her future. To be praised, thanked, and offered a future, especially a future with the little girl that had come to mean so very much to her, was beyond her wildest dreams.

“Mama!”

Sabine’s heart leapt as she heard the voice call out to her. Béatrice came running along the corridor, closely followed by a grinning Claire. The child barely slowed before she barreled into Sabine’s arms.

“Hey there, are you keeping Tante Claire busy, ma cœur?”

“She was showing me around!” the girl beamed. “I got to see the soldiers and the embassy and the guard dogs.” The girl glanced at the manila folder in Sabine’s hand and pointed at it. “What’s that?”

Sabine smiled, “It’s a really important form that the Government gave me, and it’s something that we both need to decide.”

“Lunch?”

Sabine rolled her eyes. The girl was far too food-motivated. Leading her over to a small sofa, she sat her down and placed the folder on her lap. “I need to ask you two questions, and I want you to be as honest as possible, ok?”

Béatrice looked suspicious but nodded.

“There are two questions I want to ask you, and I need you to know that any answer is fine, ok?”

Béatrice looked uncertain but nodded again, “Did you get in trouble?”

“No,” Sabine smiled. “First question. We had to pretend that your name was Amélie so the bad men couldn’t find us, but that’s over now, and we’re safe. If you want to, you can go back to using Béatrice, your real name. Would you like that?”

The girl nodded slowly, “Pretending to be someone else was fun, but I like Béatrice more. My Mama used to call me Béa. I liked that.”

Sabine felt a twinge of sadness in her heart. “Ok, then, Béatrice it is,” She nodded, trying to stop her hands from shaking. “Another question?”

“Ok?”

“I know I can’t replace her, but I mean… What would you say if I stopped pretending to… I mean, what if I was… what if I was your mama for real?

Sabine choked out the question as quickly as possible, almost afraid of the answer. She did not have long to wait as Béatrice leapt to her feet and flung herself into her arms. In one moment, all of the fear and doubt that had crept into Sabine vanished like smoke as she hugged her daughter.

“So I don’t need to go to a new home?

Sabine stroked Béatrice’s cheek and shook her head, love in her eyes as she gazed down at her in awe, “No, never. You will never be alone ever again.”

 

 

June 12th, 2024, Lake Como, Italy.

The gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the tree beside the veranda. The villa overlooked the wide expanse of Lago di Como as it nestled into the mountainside that formed its western bank. Here, the light seemed to hold a different quality, and the world seemed just a little more desaturated than back home in America. Time felt slower, and life felt more meaningful.

Sabine Knight sipped her glass of wine and gazed out across the glittering azure blue of the lake. She felt at peace with the world, which was a set of circumstances she once considered to be impossible.

“You are lost in thought, Mia Cara.”

Sabine glanced around and smiled at Francesca Ricci as the older woman walked out to join her. “A little,” she admitted. “Life finds a way of coming full circle, does it not?”

“This is hardly the farmhouse that your Agency hired for us so long ago,” The Italian chuckled. “I like to think that this is a little more comfortable.”

“And a beautiful way to launder the money you cleared through Gregory Komorov’s side interests.”

Francesca shrugged in that classically Italian manner and smiled slyly, “A fringe benefit. If you recall, it was you who put us in touch those years ago.”

“I was fighting to save the life of my daughter, not building your business opportunities.”

“It worked out well, did it not?”

“It did,” Sabine nodded.

Walking across to the table, Sabine smoothed the skirt of her short blue floral sundress beneath her as she sat and crossed her legs. “Some days, I barely believe that it’s all real.”

Francesca smiled, “But you are glad, no?”

“I am,” Sabine agreed. When she looked down, she saw a pair of smooth, tanned legs crossed demurely under her skirt and the swell of her breasts within the bodice of her dress. She blinked as strands of her long blonde hair blew across her face in the gentle breeze. Unconsciously, she tucked her hair behind her ears and smiled. “I have never been happier in my life.”

“Sorry, I’m late!”

A teenage girl dropped into the seat beside Sabine and reached out to grab a bread roll from the basket on the table. “I was on the phone with Zoé back home. There is so much drama at school.”

Sabine swatted the hand reaching for the roll, “Mind your manners. It’s about time you joined us, I thought you had run off to join the circus.”

The girl grinned. She was shorter than her mother by a few inches, but she was still getting bigger every year. She had olive skin and dark curly hair that hung freely around her shoulders. She was wearing a pair of jean shorts and a tank top. Sabine was constantly amazed to watch her grow into the beautiful young woman that she was becoming.

Béatrice Knight shrugged playfully and snatched an olive instead, “Come on, I’m starving.”

“You do not feed her at home?”

Of course, I feed her,” Sabine rolled her eyes. “She eats me out of house and home.”

“Children will do that,” Francesca snickered. “Help yourselves, eh? Before the little one passes out from hunger.”

“Did Mama tell you that she got a new job?” Béatrice asked Francesca as she inhaled risotto pollo. “She just got a big promotion.”

“I am shocked that she’s not told all her school friends,” Sabine sighed. “Yes, I have.”

“Oh? Am I allowed to know?”

Sabine waved a hand dismissively, “It’s nothing secret, at least not to family. Director Blackwell asked me to take over as Station Chief for Paris. The current one retires next month, and they have offered the post to me.”

Francesca raised an eyebrow, “A prestigious posting, but no more fieldwork, yes?”

“A lot of bureaucracy and desk riding,” Sabine admitted sourly. “There’s still a decent chance I can get my feet wet often enough. I had a good teacher, once upon a time.”

“More time for you and Béatrice, no?”

Sabine looked over at her daughter and smiled fondly, “I’ll take any moments that I can get.”

Sipping her wine, Sabine sat back and listened as her daughter began regaling Francesca with tales of her high school social adventures. Life felt good now, better than she had ever known. The last ten years had changed her world in ways she could never have imagined. She felt at home in her body, she had a daughter whom she loved, friends, family, and a purpose in life. There was little more she could ever hope to ask for.

Her journey had not been an easy one, nor had it been without a great deal of loss and suffering. She had watched friends die, and she had suffered unspeakable torment. In her moment of idle contemplation, she remembered a young woman by the name of Alessandra de Luca.

She had gotten it so badly wrong, and she had nearly cost the girl everything. Once upon a time, she had believed Alessandra’s role was to take the suffering so that she might live in her place. That embracing her womanhood might allow a sliver of a man named Ryan to survive. The truth was, he had been doomed from the very beginning. Operation Orsino had killed Ryan Knight, and it was her grief and trauma in the wake of that nightmare that had trapped her in its grasp for so very long.

Sabine glanced at her daughter and smiled. That girl had saved her life, just as she had saved hers in return. In a fleeting moment of clarity, Alessandra had reached through the veil and snatched Béatrice from the hands of death. In doing so, she had broken the last remaining bonds that kept Ryan Knight anchored within her psyche.

With one decision, ten years ago, she had chosen a path of healing and love over death and suffering. That beautiful child was her greatest love and joy, a brilliant, beautiful spark in a world of darkness. They had been two lonely orphans who had found each other in a moment of existential crisis. Beatrice had become the daughter she had never known that she had needed, and in return, she had become the mother that she deserved.

This is the end of A Part Of Her. I am almost sad to see it end, but it had to find its conclusion at the right moment. I really do want to come back with a sequel to explore more of Sabine and Béa's journey, and I will. First, I have editing and revisions of this and Angel, and some juicy sequel work on the way for Angel and Fake It. So stay tuned, and thank you so much for reading my drivel!

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