Jules Verne sat in the library of the Sorbonne. The hour was late and he knew that he should be returning to his cheerless room, but the library was warm and the chair, while not exactly comfortable, was much better than the one that resided under the table he used as a desk. The pile of books beside him did not contain treatises on the law, for which he felt slightly guilty, but instead were the libraries reference volumes on that strange civilization that once ranged over large stretches of the country now known as Mexico, the Aztecs.

The pictures in this latest book showed sketches of devices found by explorers as part of that civilization. Jules was looking specifically for any mention of anything that might be a part of that strange vehicle he and his friends knew as the "Phoenix." This peculiar machine had the ability to move through time the way that Phileas Fogg's dirigible Aurora could sail through the air. He was about to give up on this one as well when he spotted a diagram that looked familiar.

He turned the pages of his own notebook to find his sketch for comparison. "Yes!" he said triumphantly. "They match!" He scribbled the name of the book down next to his drawing. When next he saw Phileas, Passepartout, and Rebecca, he would have something to report.

Suddenly, the hair on the back of his neck prickled. Someone was coming. Someone silent. A shadow fell across his notebook. He turned quickly to look.

The sound of the walking stick's 'whap' as it landed in the middle of his notebook, nearly made Verne jump out of his skin, if that were possible. In a spastic and badly executed defense tactic, the student attempted to both grab the notebook and retreat at the same time. This merely resulted in Jules dropping his book, overturning the chair, and soundly landing on his Nantesian rump.

Alas, his execution of such preservational tactics needed much work.

Verne's instinct for danger was considerably honed by numberous run-ins with the League of Darkness. Always, they sought to capture him, or his notebooks or both.

The voice that answered Verne's rather pathetic attempt at escape was cool, English, and slightly annoyed.

"For the love of God, Verne! Haven't your professors instructed you a million times to =pay attention=? Haven't =I= instructed you to do the same? Yet, here you are in some musty little corner, buried in a book, oblivious to the world..."

Verne attempted to staunch the forthcoming lecture from Phileas Fogg. However, that hope dwindled into nothingness as the Englishman stood glaring like Napoleon overseeing the troops... well, perhaps Mons. Bonaparte wasn't the best analogy.

"You really =must= be little more prepared."

"I know, Fogg."

"You could be grabbed and thrown under a pile of these dusty tomes for a century, at least, before anyone would even =notice=... let alone find you!"

"I know, Fogg."

"And then, =who= do you suppose would be required to dig under all these moldy papers in search of you?"

"You, Fogg."

Fogg laughed. "Of course not. Don't be ridiculous. I would have Passepartout do it!" he added matter-of-factly.

"How did you find me?" Verne asked his protector.

"I followed a trail of breadcrumbs..." the Englishman answered. "Somewhat stale, french, bagette breadcrumbs. Verne, if you are =not= in that hovel that you call your apartment, and you are =not= in that hovel that you call a bistro, then it stands to reason that you are...=here=. Now gather your papers and your wits and let's go. Rebecca is waiting outside."

Quickly, Jules grabbed his books together, wondering why Fogg was here to see him dressed in full evening wear. The Englishman's long stride made it nearly impossible to keep up without running.

Rebecca stood just inside the doorway looking at the carriage outside, but turning as she heard the footsteps approaching.

"Thank heavens you're here, Jules."

"Rebecca, what's going on?"

"Your presence has been requested, Verne."

"What, Fogg?"

"I think Rebecca can explain it. After all, it is her assignment."

"Thank you so much, Phileas. Um, Jules..." She stumbled uncharacteristically over her words. What was going on? "Well, as you may be able to notice, we were at a formal supper this evening. It was for the new Italian consul, and it seems he had heard of the mole incident. Louis Napoleon himself remembered your involvement."

"The emperor? He asked to see ME?" Jules said, incredulous.

"No. The consul's daughter wants to meet you. She heard how you helped save the emperor, and the queen. She's only fourteen, Jules, and I think it struck her imagination. Of course," Rebecca's blue eyes teased, "it may be that she simply wants the company of someone other than boring old diplomats and a young Frenchman suits quite nicely."

"How do you know the consul's daughter, Rebecca?"

"She's my assignment."

"Yes," said Phileas depreciatingly, "another difficult job for England's first female agent."

"Oh, hush, Phileas. I'm taking care of her until she reaches London so that the consul can conduct his business here and there unimpeded.

"Does her father know that I'm a student?"

"Yes. It doesn't seem to concern him at all. Of course, Miss Cinzia seems to get just about everything she wants. Ah!"

The girl, it seems, has gotten tired of waiting in the coach. The door opens, and out steps the consulate's fourteen-year-old daughter.

The young girl stepped smartly up to Jules, and looked him up and down. "You must be Jules Verne," she said quietly. "Yes, you'll do nicely."

Jules looked quickly at Rebecca, who immediately stifled her mischevious grin. "Ah, yes, I am, Miss..."

Rebecca stepped forward and announced formally, "Jules Verne, may I present to you Miss Natalia Cinzia. Miss Cinzia, may I present to you Monsieur Jules Verne."

Jules extended his hand, grasped Natalia's delicate fingers, and kissed the back of the young girl's hand. "Charmed, I'm sure," Jules said.

Natalia quickly whipped her hand back out of Jules' grasp. "How dare you touch me without permission?" she fumed.

Jules' eyes widened. "I'm sorry, I'm... I'm..."

Natalia started giggling. "Oh, don't worry, I'm only teasing. If I'd been upset I'd've had Daddy's soldiers kill you on the spot."

That did little to quell Jules' fears. However, he did manage to force a small grin. "Rebecca, how can I ever thank you enough?" he said through gritted teeth.

Rebecca started giggling herself. "Well, for a start..."

Phileas had seen enough. "Right," he proclaimed. "I'd say it's time to head back to the Aurora. Don't you think so, Rebecca?"

"Jules and I want to go walking, don't we, Jules?" Natalia said boldly, as she took Jules' arm in hers.

"No, you don't, Natalia," Rebecca chastised. "I am here to keep you safe, and I say we head to the Aurora."

Natalia began to pout. "No!"

"No!" reiterated the young Italian girl. "I want to look around Paris," She sidled up to Verne, putting both hands around his left arm, "which is, next to bella Venezia, of course, the most romantic city in the world." Deep brown eyes gazed into hazel meaningfully.

"That may be the case, Miss Cinzia, but WE have a job to do and that job is to keep you safe," explained Rebecca.

"Besides," Jules added, "you can see Paris very well from up in the Aurora. It looks..very beautiful at this time of night." He smiled, a bit uncomfortably, due to the continued proximity of the young lady.

"Nicely said, Verne," Fogg congratulated him, sotto voce, as he led the small group back to the carriage.

The four seated themselves, with Natalia naturally sitting next to Jules, and only slightly closer to him than she really needed to be. Rebecca's raised eyebrows spoke volumes as she sat down across from Jules, while Jules' expression replied in kind. Rebecca smiled inwardly. A short time ago, Jules would not have been comfortable, or even capable, of giving her such a dirty look.

"The Aurora, if you please," said Phileas, tapping the roof of the carriage with his cane.

"What is this Aurora?" Natalia asked of Jules.

"The Aurora is Fogg's...Mr. Fogg's dirigible," he replied nervously. This young lady had the worst habit of staring directly into eyes, at least Jules' eyes.

"Dee-ree-gee-bull? What is dee-ree-gee-bull?"

"A dirigible is an airship, Miss Cinzia," answered Rebecca. She noted a quick look of panic in the girl's eyes. "It's quite safe, actually. Much safer for you than traveling on the ground and by ship would be, and faster as well. The Aurora is the main reason we are the ones guarding you." Rebecca's eyes softened. The girl was only fourteen, after all, and in a strange city with people she didn't know.

"It is very safe, Miss Cinzia."

"Please, you may call me Natalia," she smouldered, "since we will be traveling together."

"Please call me Jules."

"Of course, Jules," she moved a bit closer to him, somehow batting her lashes and staring at him at the same time. He noticed that her gaze was just a bit below his eyes this time. Uh-oh...She giggled a bit as Jules began to blush. "It must be very exciting, traveling up in the air. I am looking forward to it, as I look forward to many new experiences on my journey."

This time the raised-brow treatment was for her cousin's benefit. The couple across the carriage seemed oblivious to them--the girl from staring at Jules, and Jules from distress at being stared at. Although, Rebecca noted, the young man trembled under the mesmerizing gaze, he did not flinch away from the girl's touch.

Phileas' reaction to Rebecca's silent comment was much greater than she anticipated. In fact, he appeared quite pop-eyed at the moment. What...?

**My God,** thought Phileas, **did she mean to do that?** He tried not to look down, even though Rebecca had noted his surprise. He didn't want to make a fuss, since it was quite possibly a mistake, but...Miss Natalia Cinzia of Venice, Italy, had just--or so it seemed--deliberately brushed her leg against his. Several times. Fortunately, they had arrived at their destination, and disembarked the carriage.

"What was that all about, Phileas?"

"What? Oh, nothing, nothing." He looked at Jules and Natalia, who were already nearing the airship. "I do hope," he added, "that her trunks have all been delivered and we can take off straight away."

"The staff at the embassy assured me that everything would be here. Now let's go, I'm sure Passepartout has some tea waiting for us."

"A spot of brandy would be preferable right now," and Rebecca nodded her agreement.

Jules had always been in awe of the Aurora, even after his experience aboard the Prometheus. He couldn't wait to see Natalia's expression when she laid eyes on it.The coach came to a slow stop, and Jules looked at her as Phileas climbed out of the carriage, Rebecca following promptly behind him.Jules quickly exited, and offered up his hand to help her out of the carriage.

The look in her eyes was the same he had the first time he saw the Aurora. Jules smiled as she stepped down beside him."This is your... flying ship?""Not mine, but Mr. Fogg's. But yes, this is the Aurora."

"It's lovely. Will you show me?" Jules swallowed as she took his arm, guiding her toward the awaiting Aurora.

Rebecca and Phileas watched, amused as the couple passed them, Jules casting an annoyed glance over his shoulder in Rebecca's general direction."I do think the boy is a bit peeved at you, Rebecca," Phileas stated with a hint of amusement.

"Excellent deduction, Phileas. You're good," she laughed in response as they followed the couple.Passepartout stood waiting for them, smiling and giving a slight bow as Jules introduced Natalia to him.

"It is nice to be meeting you." He accepted her offered hand, placing a quick kiss to the back of it, before Jules and Natalia entered the Aurora.

"Are we ready to go, Passepartout?" Rebecca asked, stepping up onto the deck.

"God, I do hope so. I need a drink," Phileas commented as he started to enter the Aurora.

"Miss. Cinzia's things have not be arriving, Master." Phileas stopped and backed out of the door, looking at Passepartout as if he'd grown a second head.

"Not here?"

"No, Master."

Phileas looked at Rebecca who only smiled smugly at him."I don't know why I continually let you talk me into joining you in your assignments. One of these days I'll say 'no'."

Rebecca laughed and took his arm."You don't say 'no' because you love me. I'm sure that we won't be long. Can we get
some tea, Passepartout?" Rebecca asked as she lead Phileas inside.

"Right away, Miss. Rebecca."

"I'll take a brandy, if you don't mind, Passepartout," Phileas stated, a bit miffed."Yes, Master. Right away."