Chapter Summary: The rest of the family learns the truth about what happened to Annalise. She and Andrew share a brief moment under her parents' watchful eyes. Raoul finds the words to tell Christine who saved Annalise as her family begins the fight for her life.

CHAPTER THIRTY NINE

Monday through Sunday - a span of seven days. The time it is said God took to create the heavens, the earth and rest. Seven days. The length of time that Annalise had been missing. The time it took to rip apart the lives that Raoul and Christine had created for themselves. Seven days. The time it took Erik to remove Michaud from France and from Annalise's life. It was during those seven days when Erik traveled from France to England and back again that Raoul and Christine's lives went from joy to sorrow only to return to joy in the time it took for a heart to cry unto God. They were seven days of hard work and pain culminating in rest. Seven days in which lives - much like the universe - were created from ashes that swirled and tumbled in the darkness of the void. Seven days in which a most unlikely Angel was sent to save, to be redeemed and to reconcile.

It was seven days that began when Inspector Berube left and Andrew was reunited with his cousins. Raoul watched from the front windows as the inspector was driven away before climbing the stairs anxious to see his daughter. As he rounded the corner into the hallway that led to Annalise's room, Raoul found his sons, their wives and Katherine standing, quietly talking.

"Katherine," Raoul said as he approached them. "Your cousins have arrived and they are with Andrew in the library. I think they would be glad to have you with them." He managed a small smile as her eyes lit up.

"Thank you," Katherine replied. "I shall go to them at once." She moved quickly through the hall, disappearing down the staircase.

Jean-Paul cleared his throat. "You spoke with Andrew and Regine," he began, "what did they say? What did that ..." He struggled with his words, his guilt over bringing Michaud into his family's lives. "What did that man do to my sister?"

"They would not tell us everything," Richard added. "They felt it was your place to do so."

Raoul sighed, knowing he would have to tell them but hesitant to repeat the words. He did not wish to keep hearing his voice as it spoke the nightmare his daughter had endured. He was a creature of his upbringing, so Raoul put aside his own feelings for the sake of his children; his sons had also suffered. There were enough nightmares haunting the halls of his home and no need for more when he could banish them with the truth. Yet he knew he could not tell all of it for there was still a piece of the story that Christine would need to hear before it was shared with anyone else - he owed her that much. Raoul opened the door to the upstairs sitting room and motioned for his children to enter. He followed behind them, softly closing the door, waiting until everyone was seated. Raoul remained on his feet for he was not certain he would be able to stand again were he to relax enough to sit.

"First of all," Raoul began, looking pointedly at Jean-Paul, "none of you is to bear any guilt over this. I know that is asking much but what has happened cannot be undone and we - all of us - must turn our energies away from such things and towards helping Annalise recover. Can you each try to do so?" Raoul sighed, hearing his words but not believing them himself; he would carry his guilt with him to the grave. He waited as heads slowly nodded. "Thank you. I do know what he did to your sister and it is not easy for me to repeat such things. I think it is rather obvious from the bruising that she was beaten. I know - all too well - that the marks about her throat mean that he tried to kill her."

Leonie and Therese found themselves reaching for their husbands' hands in comfort.

Gustave, his color pale, the exertions of the day taking their toll on him, raised worried eyes to his father. "Why is she so confused? She barely even knows who we are or where she is."

"She was kept drugged the entire time," Raoul told him. "That is why the confusion. Annalise also spent a night drugged and in the rain."

Richard gently squeezed Leonie's hand. "Oh no," he breathed. "Why would he do that to her?" He voiced the question everyone else asked silently. It was a question for which no one had an answer.

Jean-Paul drew a deep breath. "Sir, is there anything else?" The question hung potent in the air, everyone knowing what he meant.

Raoul looked at the five sets of eyes watching him, seeing mirrored in them the fears and nightmares he had borne over the past week. He shook his head, unwilling to say the actual word in front of his sons' wives. He hoped his children would see the truth reflected in his own eyes. "No," he said simply.

Jean-Paul leaned back in his chair, feeling his wife stroke his arm. "Thank you, God," he said, grateful for this moment of mercy - in a sea of turmoil - shown his sister.

"What happens now?" Therese wondered.

"What can we do to help Annalise recover?" Leonie added.

"Monsieur Nesselien has said the next several days will be very difficult as the drug and its effects wear away. He is concerned enough that he will be staying here until this withdrawal has been completed." His eyes surveyed the room. "I hesitate to ask this for each of you have already given so much."

"Sir," Jean-Paul addressed his father, "we want to help. She is our sister; you and Maman do not need to do this alone."

Raoul nodded his thanks. "Your mother and I are going to need each of you to help as we sit with Annalise. We cannot leave her alone during this time. The doctor will be able to tell you more when he returns."

"We will all take turns," Richard replied, his wife nodding her head.

"Do not think to keep me out of this," Gustave warned.

"I am not that foolish," his father said with a half-smile on his face. "But I think you should get some rest first."

Gustave sighed. "I am tired," he acknowledged, feeling the ache and weariness creep over him.

Therese stood. "Come," she said as she offered her hand. "Let me help you."

Raoul watched as Gustave was helped to his feet. "I must return to your sister. Please try to eat and to rest," he told them. "Annalise will need all our strength to get through what lies before her." Raoul left the room and crossed the hallway. He paused for a moment, gathering his sensibilities about him, before opening the door to Annalise's bedroom. As he walked in he saw Christine sitting on the bed by Annalise, her hand gently stroking her daughter's head as it rested in her lap, Annalise fighting to keep her eyes open. Raoul's eyes grew misty; it was as if the years had rolled away and Annalise was a small child sleeping in her mother's lap. How he wished it were so! Remembering how easily she frightened Raoul slowly and quietly approached his daughter's bedside. He gave his wife a smile as she raised her head to look at him. Raoul sat in the chair that had been placed next to the bed.

"Annalise," Christine whispered. "Your father is here."

"Papa," Annalise's voice was hoarse and barely audible. She reached out a hand.

Raoul gratefully took his daughter's hand, raising it to his lips. "I am right here."

Annalise's eyelids fluttered. "Andrew?"

"I will go," Christine said softly to Raoul before placing a kiss on her daughter's head. "I will go and bring Andrew to you and your father shall stay here."

"Yes," Annalise said.

Christine stood, holding onto her daughter's head, easing a pillow beneath it. She gave Annalise a final caress and a quick touch to her husband's shoulder before leaving the room. Raoul drew the chair closer to the bed, keeping hold of his daughter's hand as he used his other hand to brush the hair from her eyes. He tilted his head as he studied the familiar landscape of his daughter's face, his heart breaking all over again as he noted the imprint of hands on her cheeks, a long narrow cut by the edge of her scalp. Raoul shook his head at the finger-shaped bruises about Annalise's throat, remembering the sensation of not being able to draw breath, of feeling the world narrow down to a small black dot; it still haunted him. How much worse had it been - and would it be - for his child?

"I had an angel," Annalise told her father.

"I know," Raoul replied. "I am very thankful that you did."

"You will not hurt my angel?" Annalise gripped her father's hand tightly, her breath quickening.

"I will do nothing to your angel," Raoul assured her. "I am in his debt for he saved your life and brought you back to us." He laid a comforting hand on his daughter's arm. "Annalise, I promise you that I shall do nothing to him. I will even send for him, if you would like." Raoul watched as his daughter's panicked breathing slowed and her eyes began to close.

"Thank you," Annalise breathed. She opened her eyes and raised her free hand to touch her father's face. "I love you."

Three simple words and they brought Raoul back to life after a week wherein his soul had been floating in a night darker than he had ever thought imaginable. "I love you, too," he said.

The sound of the door opening caused Annalise to focus her tired gaze beyond her father, a small smile crossing her face. Raoul raised an eyebrow as he watched her. The look on his daughter's face was something for which he was not yet prepared. He knew the look for he had seen it often enough on Christine's face and he knew who was in the doorway.

"Andrew," Annalise whispered as she held out her arms.

Andrew moved quickly to Annalise's side as Raoul stood and moved the chair back. He watched as Andrew took Annalise into his arms, holding her gently.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Annalise was saying as she wrapped her arms about Andrew's neck, allowing him to draw her into a sitting position.

"I would give you the moon, if I could," Andrew said and then whispered, "I love you." He drew back to look at the girl in his arms. "You need to sleep and get well."

"You need to sleep, too," Annalise told him as Andrew lowered her back to the bed. "Promise me."

"I will. I promise," Andrew assured her. "I am going to go with my cousins back to their residence; they are insisting."

Annalise looked to her parents, worry crossing her face. "He can come back? You will let him come back?"

"He will always be welcome here," Christine told her daughter.

Raoul laid a hand on Andrew's shoulder. "You will return in the morning, yes?"

Andrew looked over his shoulder before turning back to smile at Annalise. "I will be here."

"Yes," Annalise breathed as she snuggled into her pillow and closed her eyes.

Andrew gave one last look to the girl drifting off to sleep in her own bed before standing to shake Raoul's hand. "Thank you, sir. I would like to be here tomorrow, if I may."

"You will be expected," Raoul told him. "Go now and get some rest and we will see you in the morning."

Andrew nodded and walked towards the door where Christine stopped him.

"Thank you," she said and shook her head. "That seems so inadequate."

"You are welcome and I would do it again."

"I know," Christine said and gave him a smile.

"I can see myself out," Andrew told them and he walked through the door.

Christine turned to her husband, her smile disappearing. "Now, what is it that you did not tell me before."

Raoul looked at Annalise to ensure that she was sleeping. He walked across the room and took Christine by the hand. "There is something and it can no longer be delayed. We must get someone to sit with Annalise." He looked out the door and saw Jean-Paul and Therese; he motioned to them. "Can you come and sit with your sister?"

Jean-Paul nodded, sighed and gave a small smile. "Gladly," he replied as he felt a bit of confidence return with the knowledge that his parents trusted him with his sister's care. He felt a finger caressing the inside of his wrist and knew that his wife understood and loved him regardless of his imagined faults.

Raoul and Christine moved from the doorway allowing Jean-Paul and Therese to enter. Christine closed the door behind them and followed her husband across the hall and into the sitting room. She took a seat on the sofa while Raoul closed the door before joining her. Christine watched as Raoul took her hands, unwilling to meet her eyes. She studied his face, seeing a myriad of emotions playing across the refined features. She reached out to touch his neck, knowing just where the tiny, nearly invisible scars from the lasso were, running her fingers over them.

"I still hear that sound, you know," Christine said in a haunted tone of voice, her thoughts dancing through the dark underground of the opera house. "In my darkest nightmares I hear you choking, the sound echoing around the chamber."

"Christine," Raoul tried.

Christine shook her head sadly. "Now in my nightmares I shall also hear the sound of my child choking as the life was squeezed out of her." She closed her eyes. "When will it ever end?"

Raoul looked up. "Christine," he said emphatically and got her attention. "There is something you must know."

"What is it?" There was no answer. "Raoul, you can tell me anything," Christine insisted.

Raoul swallowed and drew a deep breath. "Annalise had a guardian Angel," he said simply.

Christine nodded. "Andrew. I know."

"No, it was not Andrew and you do not know." Raoul shook his head, his expression pained.

Now Christine was concerned. "Raoul," she paused for a moment. "What did Andrew say to you?"

"There was someone else who helped bring Annalise home. Someone not Andrew and not Regine." Raoul felt a sharp dart of fear pierce his heart. The distance that had grown between him and Christine over the last week was a thing he was not sure could be bridged. Once she knew the truth, Raoul was sure the chance to build that bridge would be lost forever but he loved his wife and he loved his daughter and he owed them both nothing less than to have the truth. "Christine," he said softly as he reached up a hand to lay it against her cheek. "Annalise had an Angel. A living, human Angel. An Angel from our past." He gave her a sad smile. "Your Angel."

Christine sat silently for a moment, studying her husband's face. Suddenly she withdrew her hands and stood, walking backwards from him. "Do not lie to me," she said, her delicate features creasing in to a frown. "That is just cruel."

"I have never lied to you in all the time I have known you," Raoul said as he watched his wife. "Andrew found himself at a crossroad and knew from his sister that Annalise knew Erik. He had nowhere and no one else to whom he could turn for help." There was silence in the room. "Christine, say something," Raoul pleaded. "Please."

"How long?"

"What?"

"How long has he been there? In our lives?"

Raoul lowered his head again. "Since before Annalise was born. He has been the strange hermit in the ruined monastery. That is how Annalise knows him."

"Oh my God," Christine raised a hand to cover her mouth, her eyes darting from side to side as thoughts raced behind them. She lowered her hand and felt behind herself, finding a chair in which to sink. "He has been there all this time. All these years." She turned her attention to her husband. "How long have you known?" Silence enveloped the room. "Answer me!" Christine nearly shouted.

"Since today," Raoul replied softly. "I truly did not know before and I feel like a fool. I ought to have listened to the talk in the village. I ought to have been able to put the pieces together."

"Yes, you ought to have." Christine shook her head. "I ought to have," she whispered softly as the tears began to fall freely. "He never left me. He did not desert me as I deserted him." Christine raised her head to look at her Raoul. "He loved me enough to never interfere with my life but kept watch to make sure I was happy. He loved our daughter enough to risk his own life to bring her back to us." Christine stared at Raoul. "Just who is the monster here?" she softly asked.

"None of us are monsters," Raoul replied.

Christine said nothing, her hurt stare speaking louder than mere words.

"We were caught up in a moment none of us could have predicted or stopped even had we tried," Raoul told her. He was silent for a moment as he heard his own words, their meaning becoming painfully clear. "It happened again." Raoul laughed softly; it was a sad, lonely sound. "It would seem God or Fate or History - whatever you choose to call it - has a somewhat cruel sense of humor. It just replayed our actions in our children's lives. They did pay for our sins."

"Our sins," Christine said emphatically. "Do not forget that for you and I are both at fault here." She stood. "I must get back to my child."

Raoul watched as his wife turned her back on him and walked out the door. He found he could not form a coherent thought or the words to bring her back to his side. Suddenly, though, it was there - a thought - clear, concise and it broke his heart. Yet Raoul knew what he had to do. It would be the ultimate gift to give to the woman who had given him so much over the years. It would be the one thing Christine had never had in her life. He only prayed he had the courage to see it through - no matter the ending. Raoul mentally shook himself for feeling so selfish when his daughter still faced a fight for her very life. He stood, burying his fears and desires deep within for it little mattered what happened to his life as long as Christine and Annalise were well and happy in theirs. Raoul followed his wife out of the room, ready to battle for his daughter's life and to surrender for his wife's happiness.

It would indeed be a battle for Annalise and those who loved her. It would be a battle that would extend for six days and nights as the opiate based drug she had been force-fed slowly worked its way out of her system. It would be a time when old wounds already open would split further apart and new wounds would be created. It would be a time when push would come to shove and giving up and giving in would not be an option. It would be a time when imagined strength would become weakness and weakness would become strength unimagined. It would be a time when a family torn apart by the past and present, by things said and unsaid would be rebuilt, stronger, more secure and infinitely happier than any of them could have imagined. It would be a time when individual pieces would come together to become a whole, complete unit. It would begin five hours after Annalise had finally fallen asleep in her own bed, her parents sitting with her, waiting, watching.