A/N: Okay, next chapter--kept you guys waiting again, didn't I? n.n; Sorry. Good news: next chapter should be up shortly--very shortly! Maybe even tomorrow or this evening! Good news, right? :D Okay, Enjoy!

--CHAPTER TEN: UNCHANGING—

The old man had left what seemed like hours ago.

Leaving just after he'd told Chrono that it had been Rosette who'd contacted him—who'd first told him Chrono even existed.

It was Rosette who'd prompted Xavier Antony Daemon to come and look for him—to come find him.

It was because of Rosette Christopher Harvenheit that he was even where he stood—that is, in this plush apartment on the top floor, with expensive suits in his closet, his Princeton education and title as Vice President of the biggest banking company.

He grimaced.

She'd done so much more for him, than, he felt, he could ever do for her. So much more than he ever did for her.

Hell! He'd kicked her out! Screamed and—

No. He argued with himself. There were totally legit reasons for that.

Rosette had cheated on him—had betrayed him. And with a younger guy, no less! So…so who was to say she didn't deserve what he did. Who was to say…he was not right.

He wasn't.

He'd jumped.

Jumped to conclusions—didn't even try to find out how true the things were—didn't even ask Mary where she'd gotten those pictures. He'd never even talked to that Jonathon Smite—that person who Rosette had lain with in the picture.

It was just that one picture that had broken them up.

No, he sighed, it was him that had broken them up.

And now he remembered.

That day, when he'd started yelling at her…

His shoulders were bent over, as if sagging from a particularly heavy burden. His arms rest, fingers entwined, on his thighs.

He hadn't seen it, didn't see then what he saw now as he remembered.

That confusion on her face.

The desperation.

"Wait, Chrono—stop! What are you doing?!"

But he'd only looked coldly at her, so coldly, and told her to get out.

"Chrono….I love you," she'd said.

He'd known—oh, he knew—he knew how hard it was for her to say those words. She'd depended on her actions always to show him that she loved him.

She had been crying. And…he'd said he hated her.

She had been crying.

Rosette Christopher…she didn't cry, but she had then.

And he'd said..."I hate you, Rosette Christopher."

His head dropped. The palms of his hands pressing tightly against his eyes as the tears started. He'd been stupid. He…he'd forgotten everything in his dumb anger.

Oh, god, he whispered desperately to himself over and over again. As if that super natural being would arise from his heavenly throne and come to earth just to console him.

Chrono cried, heavy sobs breaking from his throat as his shoulders shook. He thought, over and over again, of how desperately, how insistently, Rosette had tried to stay. And how hard he'd pushed her away—in his own stupidity, in his ignorance, he'd pushed her away.

Finally, with a deep breath, his eyes swollen red and his face still damp, he opened his cell phone and dialed a number.

"Hello?" he asked, and when they picked up, "Yes, I would like you to…watch someone for me. Yes. Pictures, too—make sure you take pictures."

With a name uttered to the people on the other line, he hung up.

Guilt hung heavy in his chest as he started for the bathroom, for a shower. Guilt and desperation.

…

The blonde pushed a strand of hair behind her ear as she handed the little box to the man.

"I hope your wife likes them—you said she was craving chocolate peanut butter cookies, right?" Rosette grinned.

"Yeah," the man smiled at her, "Thanks. I know she'll love these!"

Rosette couldn't help but smile, Gabriel was so caring and energetic.

"Okay then," she said as they crossed the shop to the door, "You're welcome to come back."

The man was grinning like crazy. "I'm coming back for sure—next time I'll definitely bring Mariel!"

Gabriel turned and waved at her once more—with a grin, by the way—before turning around and seemingly skipping down the street.

The blonde at the door almost wanted to laugh as she turned back into her store.

It was quiet right now.

She hated this sometimes. When it was too quiet, like now, it seemed her thoughts shouted to the room and echoed back at her—the things she'd rather not think about, sounding loudly all around her. And she didn't like waiting.

No, she definitely didn't like waiting. Sometimes she hated it so much, this quiet and waiting, that she would get out of the shop and sit in one of the tables, under the awning, outside. She would sit there. And she didn't know if that was any better, but, at least here, it didn't seem like her thoughts kept bouncing back louder than before.

Especially those thoughts of Chrono and how much alike her children were to him and how much she mi—

She stopped. In the quiet, her thoughts had come to haunt her again.

Those stupid memories of and thoughts of him.

Well, she shouted to herself, she was doing just fine without him! She'd been doing just fine since she'd left him!

With a sigh, she dropped down into one the chairs—but then immediately got up.

She had things to do.

Things to take care of.

She couldn't sit here and wallow in thoughts of him forever.

That would do nothing.

…

Chrono stood before his mirror, his hair blown dry, in one of his expensive suits, jacket open and no tie on. His eyes were still red-rimmed, which gave him a strange look, considering his irises were red, too. He sighed and slipped on a pair of dark sunglasses before heading for the door, deciding on taking a cab.

As he rode down the elevator, walked out the glass door, and waved for the taxi to pull over, he thought about why everyone had concealed everything; why he was never told a thing. And…he thought about what he'd say to…

…

Rosette smiled at all the customers as they bustled in and out.

She baked and she talked and she brewed the coffees to keep her self busy—to keep her mind occupied.

And, finally, it was near noon and she couldn't have been more happy for it.

Sometimes the hours seemed to last too long, and at other times the minutes passed far too quickly.

She sighed happily as she washed her hands, took off the ruffled apron and hung it up, and prepared the twins' lunches.

…

There was a knock at the door, and Satella, who wasn't usually home at this hour of the day, wondered who it could be. She heard one of the maids go to the front and open the door. She sauntered down to see who it could be.

She wasn't usually home at this hour during the day, but today had been an exception.

As a maid bustled up to meet her halfway down the steps, before she could even ask who it was, the girl was already whispering quickly, "Ms. Satella, it is Mr. Daemon—Mr. Chrono Daemon from the big banking company—he's come to see you, Ms. Satella."

The redhead's face soured at the name as she followed the maid who had turned back around and was hurrying before her down the stairway.

She saw him before he even saw her, his back turned to look at a painting hung in the hall where he was waiting.

"Chrono, eh?" she called out in greeting, a slight sneer on her face. "So, is there a reason why you've decided to grace us with your holy presence?" she said in a sardonic voice.

She really couldn't help it.

Not after everything…everything he'd put Rosette through—though he'd never know.

"A-ah, Satella," he turned to face her now, and she could see he had sun glasses on. "Sorry," he apologized, "To come at such a time. But I wanted to talk."

She gave him a terse nod and indicated for him to follow as she led him to a room, right beside a room she had designated as the private living room, for her and her family only; that was the public living room, the entertaining area—a room without pictures of Rosette or the kids. Rosette would be hell if she found out the redhead was the one who Chrono had found out everything.

She sighed silently to herself.

"Sit down," she said as civilly as she could now, her initial shock and anger wearing off a little. Because no matter what, she still had to be civil—she dealt in the business world, after all. She had to make deals—it almost seemed political at time.

The redhead gave another inner sigh at the thought as she called for the maid who had entered the room to please make two cups of tea for them.

They sat in silence until the young woman returned with a tray, two cups of tea sitting atop the silver, little wisps of white steam rising from the china cups filled with liquid.

Satella waited until the young man had taken a sip of his drink before asking, "So what did you want to talk about, Mr. Daemon?"

Chrono looked at her, but she could not see his eyes behind the dark glasses.

"I—" before he even started, he was cut off as a maid rushed in, frantic.

"Ms. Satella, Ms. Satella!" the young maid shouted, "Ms. Florette is on the phone—she said Mr. Steiner is in the hospital and she wants to talk to you!"

And with a stricken face, the redhead hurriedly got up. Before leaving the room though, she turned back to the young man still sitting on the couch in surprise and said sternly, "I hope you don't mind waiting here a minute, I'll be just a second."

And she left, hurrying for the phone.

…

Chrono sat and watched with a little worry as the redhead got up. Rosette's sister.

He remembered when he'd insisted on coming with Rosette, in high school. How he'd cared and loved her. How he'd understood her then.

And yet…what had changed so much in the years they were apart?

An unknown part of him ached—his heart, it seemed.

It ached with the pain of knowing he'd caused her pain—or knowing he'd intentionally caused her pain.

He got up as he heard the redhead's hurried footsteps disappear down the hall and scanned the room.

If Satella had known…and he was sure she'd known, then there must be pictures. There must be something. Joshua was a photographer now, he knew. And quite a famous one, at that. And…now he realized, Azmaria…Azzy…he hadn't seen her in so long.

Of course she'd called, she even wrote him e-mails and letters sometimes. But he hadn't seen her in…such a long time.

And he'd now just realized it with abruptness.

He scanned the room, looked at the books on the shelves.

Nothing.

No pictures of anyone in particular on the walls, or on the tables, no family photo albums on the shelves.

Then it hit him like a sack of bricks.

Satella must have brought him to a public room—one which would hold nothing of great intimacy to her. And he almost growled in anger.

He was in a room where she entertained strangers and people of the media, and she'd called him "Mr. Daemon" not like she used to. But that…he sighed. 'I guess I can understand why,' he thought again as he headed for the door.

Out in the hallway, just as he was about to turn back towards the door to leave, the maid—the one who'd come in earlier with the news of Steiner, their old butler—came out of a door beside him, and, as she was closing the door, he caught sight of something.

A picture of Satella and Florette…and Rosette between them.

He headed towards the room.

But just as his hand reached for the doorknob, the girl quickly knocked his hand away and stood before the door, a look of frantic panic on her face.

"Y-you can't go in here, Mr. Daemon," she stuttered, her voice shaking. "Ms. Satella does not allow visitors into this room."

"All…right," he answered as he turned back towards the room he'd come from. "I was…just looking for the bathroom, if you'd excuse me." He laughed slightly, to make it seem as though he were embarrassed.

The girl grinned with visible relief.

"It's right down there, sir, down the way we came."

He nodded in thanks as he turned around and started walking in the appointed direction.

As soon as he heard her footsteps disappear down the hallway, he turned quickly around and, with a quick glance down the way he had been pretending to go, he bolt back down the hall, towards the door that the maid had said was off limits to guests. Well, to hell with that, he thought. He wanted some answers.

…

"We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life."
--Touched By An Angel, Maya Angelou

--END CHAPTER TEN: UNCHANGING--

A/N: New poem! :) Yep. Um...let's see...oh yes: I do hope to end this shortly. I don't know how possible that is (and why I keep saying this...) but I just wanted to say that. Chapter 11 should be finished VERY soon! Seriously! By the time you read this--I might've already posted it! XD Aren't you glad?! ...I hope you guys still review for this chapter though. You don't have to. :) But it'd be nice because then I get your thoughts on THIS chapter as it is. So, yep, Review! [and chapter 11 will be up shortly, guys! ;)]