[Fred frowns faintly.]

I'm... not certain. Being yourself and someone else at the same time... it strikes a familiar cord in me. But I'm not sure why.

[She tugs gently at a stray thread hanging from her sling.]

So... it is a painting by da Vinci. [Her voice lowers slightly as she starts talking half to herself.] But why was I on Earth? And why Paris? Sometimes memories seem to be more frustrating then they are helpful...