Part 28, ToC

Part 29

The door creaked open ever so slightly at Susanne's knock. When the older woman on the other side saw them, she flung it wide, grabbed him by the shoulders, and kissed both of his cheeks. The man beside her did likewise.

After going through a similar ritual with Susanne, the couple ushered them both into a tiny apartment that looked like it had been hit by a tornado. “So, what is this about my Michel being hurt?!” the woman asked, her breath coming short and fast as she felt every inch of his face. “I don't see any blood or bruises...Sit on the couch and I'll bring you some soup!” She all but shoved him onto a nearby sofa and wrapped a thick blanket around his shoulders.

“I don't think that's really necessary...” he began, but she had already teleported into the kitchen and now returned with a steaming bowl that she thrust into his hands.

The older man sank onto the couch beside him and patted him on the shoulder. “Son, just let her fuss. We have both been worried about you.”

He looked into the man's eyes and saw the hint of fear behind the smile. With a nod, he began eating the soup.

“I had better be going now,” Susanne said, flashing a nervous grin. “I'm sure your parents know how best to take care of you, Michel. Good night!”

He started to protest, but she vanished out the door, leaving him alone with these two strangers. ...Of course, she was also a stranger to him herself, but at least he'd spent more than five minutes in her company.

“How much do you remember?” the older man asked him, cutting in on his thoughts.

He frowned, setting his soup down on the coffee table. “Nothing before the Alps,” he admitted. He looked at each of them in turn. “I mean really, nothing. I don't know who you two are, except that Susanne said you're my parents, and I'm not sure who she is either. I don't even know who *I* am.”

The couple met each other's eyes. The woman took a seat on the armchair in the corner, wringing her hands. The man turned back to face him. “Your name is Michel Renaud,” he said softly. “You're our son, and we love you very much. You live here in Paris, and you work as a geologist.”

His brow furrowed. He'd learned most of this back in the ski lodge. “That still isn't much.”

The man placed a hand on his shoulder. “It's enough.”

TBC...

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