Chapter Summary: Andrew's slip of the tongue reveals the identity of Annalise's savior to her brothers. Christine defends Erik to her children. And in the middle of a summer night Annalise's battle with drug withdrawal reaches its climax.

Warning: You might want to have your tissues handy for this one.

CHAPTER FORTY ONE

The next three days passed in an anguished blur for Annalise and those that loved her. It would be a time when the very fabric of lives would be shredded by the sharp edges of guilt and recrimination. It would be a time that Annalise would never recall and her loved ones would never forget. The days would pass in the heat and humidity of an August in Paris, the heavy atmosphere outside the house matched by the heightened intensity within. It seemed - to those who looked outwards from personal demons - that the walls of the house for which Raoul and Christine had so lovingly cared were all that kept the two charged atmospheres from crashing into each other in a burst of energy consuming all in its path. As Annalise had collapsed into Andrew's arms, no one knew just how close that burst of energy was to fulfilling its destiny.

"I cannot leave her now," Andrew had insisted as he paced the hallway outside the closed door to Annalise's bedroom, her family close by as the doctor examined his unconscious patient.

"I will have your things sent for," Raoul told him, his voice strangely calm. He looked at Katherine. "I believe your things are still here."

"They are," Katherine said as she kept a cautious eye on her brother. She longed to reach out and touch him but recognized the angry gleam in his eyes and knew enough to stay her embrace.

"I should have never made that ridiculous promise to him," Andrew said as his fists clenched and unclenched.

"What promise and to whom?" Gustave wondered.

Andrew stopped his pacing, his teeth clenched, an angry expression on his handsome features. "I promised Erik I would not kill Michaud. God! I wish I had never made that promise!"

So wrapped up in his own anger and fears was Andrew that he did not see the expressions that crossed the faces of those around him at the mention of the name that passed his lips. They were expressions of horror and wonderment; save for the expression on one face that bore a look of pained resignation. Suddenly Andrew realized what he had said and silently cursed himself.

"It is all right, Andrew," Raoul said softly. "They would have needed to know sooner or later." He ignored the startled looks from his children as the door to Annalise's room opened and Christine came out. "How is she?"

"She is awake but barely," Christine said, her brows knitted in worry. "The fever keeps climbing ..." She finally noticed the expressions on the faces of the people around her. "What is wrong? I do not think I have the energy to deal with anything else."

"They know," Raoul said simply, watching as his wife composed her features, not wanting to know what was going on beneath her calm demeanor.

"My fault, I am afraid," Andrew told her. "I let it slip. I did not mean to do so ..."

"Into the sitting room," Christine interrupted him as she crossed the hall, opening the door. There was no reaction. "Now," she ordered them in a tone of voice that meant nothing less than full obedience. Christine waited until everyone had entered the sitting room, stopping Raoul before he could enter. "Go to Annalise," she told him. "Your daughter needs you more than I do." Christine closed the door behind her and did not hear the soft whisper from her husband.

"That is all too painfully clear," came the words as Raoul crossed the hall in the opposite direction, disappearing into Annalise's bedroom, not truly wanting to know what Christine would say to their children.

Christine told her children the truth - that the man known as the "Opera Ghost" had saved their sister's life. She told them how Annalise knew of him and how long he had lived in the ruined monastery. Andrew filled in the parts that Christine did not know - the story of his time with Erik, the fight on the stairs and the fact that it was Erik who had been left to deal with Michaud.

"Maybe he killed him," Gustave muttered darkly.

"No!" Christine exclaimed. "Do not even say such a thing. You do not know him." Her voice lowered, her expression growing soft. "There is enough blood on his hands and I would not have any more there. They are hands that are meant to create not kill." Christine inhaled deeply, putting aside her own feelings. "It is enough that he risked his life to bring your sister back to us." Christine studied her children's faces, a look of fierce determination on her own. "Let him be!" she cautioned them.

Her words startled her children into stunned silence for a few moments.

"Does Father know?" Richard wondered.

"Yes," Christine replied gently, thinking for a moment. "I need you all to know something; whatever occurs between your father and I from this point forward, it is something that must be resolved. No matter what happens, I will always love each of you and that is something that will never change. But," she warned, "I will hear nothing against Erik, is that understood?" She did not wait for answer but returned to Annalise, leaving her children sitting in stunned silence.

"How could you?" Jean-Paul broke the silence as he stood, grabbing Andrew's arm.

"What?" Andrew snapped back.

"How could you go to that man? Do you know what you have done?"

Andrew brusquely removed himself from Jean-Paul's grasp. "And what is it you would have had me do? Your friend," he emphasized the words, "shot your brother, abducted your sister and shot me." He did not hear his sister's gasp. "I knew the country and knew of Erik. I saw the signpost in the road and did what I had to do. I would do it again, understand?"

"How did you know of those things?" Jean-Paul wondered. "What is it you have been doing here?"

"Just a moment," Gustave started and stopped as his brother turned on him.

"Stay out of this!" Jean-Paul warned and turned his attention back to Andrew. "I am waiting for an answer."

"I have been falling in love with your sister," Andrew told him. "I have been searching the country for a vineyard to purchase; that is why I knew the roads. I have been talking to my sister and discovered your sister's secrets in that manner. Those are your answers." Andrew turned his back on the room.

"Andrew," Richard said as he rose to his feet.

"No." Andrew kept his back to them, shaking his head. "I am not such a fool as to imagine any of you would find me a match for your sister." He turned back to them, grim and angry. "But I love Annalise and the only way I am leaving her is if she asks or your parents forbid it. None of you can do anything to change that."

Gustave stared at his eldest brother. "What is your problem?"

"Nothing you would understand." Jean-Paul set his chin.

Now it was Gustave's turn to get to his feet. "Truly? May I chance a guess?" He took a single step forward. "What did Annalise say to you? Did she say that she hates you?" There was no response and a smirk crossed Gustave's lips. "She told you it was your fault, did she not?" He laughed grimly as he watched Jean-Paul's face. "She did. I can see it on your face. You are such a fool."

"That is uncalled for!" Therese said, reacting to the insult even if her husband did not.

"Do you think Annalise even knows what she is saying?" Gustave continued, ignoring his sister-in-law. "You heard what the doctor told us, she may not even remember any of this. Can you honestly stand there and tell me that this is your fault?"

"She did and it is!" Jean-Paul nearly shouted.

"You are not the one who had to watch him take her because you did not react quickly enough," Gustave replied quietly.

"But you are the hero," Jean-Paul told him. "You are the one who got shot trying to save her."

Therese stamped her foot before Gustave could shout back his angry retort. "Do you think I want you shot? Do you?" She flung up her hands. "If you think that, then you are the fool your brother believes you to be!"

"I can find a gun and shoot you, if that you want to know what it is like." Gustave's anger was growing.

"That is enough!" Richard said as he stepped between his two brothers before they could come to blows. "You are both acting like fools."

Jean-Paul looked down his nose at his brother. "This from the perfect child who never did anything wrong."

"I am not perfect," Richard insisted, "but this insane bickering will accomplish nothing!"

"I can shoot you, as well," Gustave insisted, "if you think me insane."

Leonie rose to her feet and flounced angrily over to Gustave. She grabbed him by the arm. "If you say that one more time, I will ..."

"You will what?" Gustave spat.

"Not at my wife," Richard warned him as he grabbed the shirtfronts of both his brothers; it got their attention. Richard looked from one brother to the other and shook his head sadly. "No wonder Annalise thinks we do not love each other anymore." His next words plunged the room into a haunted stillness. "No wonder she thinks we do not love her."

The hurt and pain, the guilt, the anger and fear were the invisible partners around the family and they gripped the people in a frenzied dance. They whirled around and around, moving from person to person, as each emotion was embraced, acknowledged and shed. Slowly - as each felt their personal demons flee - the haunted stillness broke apart and became a shared pained silence.

"Kitt," Andrew said as he held out his hand for his sister, breaking the silence. He waited until he had his sister's hand in his own. "You are all fools," he said. "When we first found your sister she was so confused and so frightened and so certain that none of you would want her back after what he said and did to her. She did not even know if you were real." Andrew sighed and shook his head. "All Annalise wanted to do was come home and at this moment, for the life of me, I do not understand why." He took his free hand and brushed away the tears from his sister's cheek. "You are pathetic," he told them before leading Katherine out the door, a stunned family in their wake.

Raoul and Christine heard the sound of slamming doors as they sat with their daughter.

"They did not take that well," Raoul said. He sat on his daughter's bed, his back against the headboard, his legs stretched out in front of him, Annalise lying by his side, her head in his lap, both arms resting across his legs.

"Neither did you," Christine replied softly as she held her daughter's hands, trying to get Annalise to focus on her face.

"What do you want from me?" Raoul wondered; a hand gently stroking his daughter's back as she trembled in silence.

"Want my parents," came the whisper from Annalise. It drew their attention.

Christine cautiously placed a hand on her daughter's face. "Papa and I are right here with you."

Annalise did not hear her. "Please," she continued. "I will not tell. I just want to go home."

Dominic came across the room and bent over Annalise, reaching out to feel her forehead. He was surprised when she grabbed his hand.

"You can stay," Annalise told him, her eyes focused on something beyond her mother. "If I let you do what you wish will you let me go?" Her eyes closed briefly before opening again. "I just want to go home." She grew silent again.

"Oh Annalise," came Raoul's pained whisper, one hand continuing to massage her back as the other found its way into his wife's. "You are home."

Christine echoed her husband's tone. "What has he done to you?" She raised her eyes to Dominic. "What is happening?"

"Laudanum is fine in very small doses, on occasion and given under a doctor's supervision for it affects the way the mind functions," Dominic said, studying his patient and addressing her parents. "When the drug is abused, the mind may do strange things. Annalise may have more of these periods when her mind is not aware of its surroundings."

Raoul looked down at his daughter. "Are we ever going to get her back?" he asked sadly.

"We have at least two more days before the majority of the drug is out of her system, I believe." He shook his head and straightened. "We will know more once that happens. I would like to send for a nurse." He held up a hand at Raoul and Christine's startled reaction. "Annalise is going to need the care and I am going to need the help."

"Whatever you require," Raoul told him and watched as Dominic nodded and left the room. He turned his attention back to his daughter who was, again, growing restless. Raoul bent over to kiss her head.

"You promised to stay," Annalise said, her head lifting, eyes focusing on her father.

"I am not leaving," Raoul assured her, helping her to a sitting position. "Is that better?"

Annalise managed a brief smile before the pain began to tear across her mid-section again. She wrapped her arms tightly about her father's waist and buried her head in his chest. "It hurts so much," she cried in small gasps.

Raoul drew his daughter tighter into his arms. "You hold onto me as long as you need," he whispered against her head.

As she watched her husband and child, Christine bit back her tears. Raoul was such a good father; he had always been patient and loving with their children. When he had lost his temper with them, the rebuke was stern, the punishment deserved but they had never seen him out of control. It had always been there, Christine mused to herself, that calm control. Raoul had always been quietly strong, even and steady - everything a husband and father should be. Not like ... Her thoughts were interrupted by her daughter.

Annalise was trying to pull away from her father, her eyes glazed again. "Do not say that!" she was whispering between her sobs. "My mother did not give up passion! She loves my father!" A stunned Raoul let his daughter go and she rolled over onto her side. "I hate you and if you touch me again, I will kill myself."

Raoul looked at Christine who was as stunned as he by the words that had escaped their daughter's lips. "Out of the mouths of babes," he said softly.

Christine had nothing to say.

Over the following hours, as day drifted away into night, Annalise's condition continued to deteriorate. Family and loved ones drifted in and out of her room, watching in quiet worry as the pain grew in intensity, the periods of hold over its victim lengthening. During those times Annalise would hold onto the nearest person, her grip incredibly strong, as she rode wave after wave of agony that filled her entire being. During the interludes when the pain relinquished its hold, Annalise would lose herself in drug-induced, fevered hallucinations, speaking to an unseen presence, giving those about her insight into the nightmare from which she had been rescued. Even those moments began to disappear as the night deepened, the fever climbed and the pain increased causing Annalise's mind to withdraw further into itself. The nurse that Dominic had sent for now tended to basic needs, keeping her patient clean and comfortable, bathing her fevered skin in cool water, assisting the doctor in monitoring her condition, freeing those who loved her to do just that - love her.

"You must get some sleep," Christine told Raoul.

It was nearly four in the morning when she had awakened to find him gone from their bed. She had reached over to find his side of the bed cold and unslept in and she had buried her face in his pillow, wishing that he would tell her what he was thinking and knowing that he would not. He was closing her out and while she could attribute Raoul's distance to his concern for Annalise, Christine knew there was another reason with another name and she felt a new fear invade her heart. She had lost so much in her life surely he would not leave her, too. Christine had sat up, reaching for her dressing gown, wonderingif she had ever truly known any of the men in her life. She had walked out of the bedroom knowing where her husband would be found.

"Raoul, please," she tried again. "You cannot have had any sleep all night. I will stay with her."

"I have not had any sleep and I am not leaving her," Raoul replied. His wife was going to slip through his grasp and he was not going to let his daughter do the same. Raoul reached his free hand out to caress his daughter's head as he felt her grip tighten on the hand she held. Words no longer came with the pain just the tightening of muscles that caused Annalise's entire body to shake uncontrollably.

Christine walked around and sat in the chair next to Raoul. "Then I shall stay with you."

"As you wish," Raoul said. His attention was focused on his daughter so he did not see the look of disappointment that crossed his wife's face.

It was nearly noon before Raoul was finally convinced to try and get a few hours of restless sleep. He had been reluctant but when his sons threatened to carry him bodily from their sister's room, Raoul had relented. He had made them promise to wake him in a few hours or if there was any change in Annalise's condition. Raoul had stood, forcing legs he could no longer feel to walk out the door. He had encountered Andrew sitting dejectedly on one of the chairs in the hall.

"I see they have banished you, as well," Raoul told him. "Andrew," he motioned for the young man to follow him into the sitting room. Raoul waited until Andrew was in the room before closing the door. "Where is he?" Raoul closed his eyes briefly, blinking back the memories. "I am sure he would not leave until he knows of my daughter's condition."

"There is a townhouse in Paris that belongs to the embassy. I have secured one of the apartments and told Erik to wait for me there." Andrew heaved a deep sigh. "I did promise him that I would bring news as soon as I could."

"Will you do me a courtesy?" Raoul asked and watched as Andrew cocked his head. "All I want is for you to send Regine to this apartment to wait for Erik and bring him here. I am not going to do anything to him, before you even ask; but - you are right - he deserves to know about Annalise and she will want to see him. Will you do that for me? Will you send for him?"

"Yes, sir," Andrew replied with a nod.

"Thank you," Raoul said softly. "I believe when all of this is over and Annalise is recovered, you and I shall have a future to discuss."

"If she will still have me."

Raoul gave Andrew a brief smile. "I am sure she will," Raoul told him before leaving the sitting room to get a few hours of much needed sleep and a change of clothes.

The rest of that day and the next brought no welcoming change to those who moved about the great house, watching and worrying. Sleep eluded Annalise as the pain that encompassed her was joined by a nausea that caused dry heaves to wrack her already exhausted body. She could no longer find the energy to move from where she lay on her bed, curled on her side, arms draped over the edge of the mattress. She did not feel her loved ones as they held her, did not hear their words of encouragement, could not see their concerned faces. Annalise was lost in a world that no one else could enter. It was a world that would hold her in its tight fist slowly, grudgingly giving ground as the drug she had been force-fed worked its way out of her system. It oozed through her pores, gathering in the sweat that covered her body in a fine sheen. It wafted away with every breath she exhaled. It was the poison in the tears that Annalise was not even aware she cried.

Finally, almost four days to the minute from when she had returned home, Annalise began to be aware - once again - of her surroundings. The change was subtle at first, a small movement in the arms that hung over the edge of the bed; Annalise had lifted them back onto the bed. No one thought much of it, except for the nurse who had quickly roused the doctor from his needed sleep. Dominic had looked at his patient, seeing the glaze that had hidden her eyes for the last days slowly beginning to dissipate. He noted her feeble attempt to pull away when he had taken her hand. He had kept careful watch over the next several hours, knowing her family was finally able to see the change, bringing small smiles to their faces and chasing away the darkness that had enfolded them. Yet Dominic had been hesitant to promise them something he could not guarantee for Annalise's pulse still raced and her fever had not broken as the worst of the drug withdrawal faded away. His grim expression did not go unnoticed.

"What is it?" Raoul wanted to know as he and Christine stood with the doctor. They were alone in the upstairs sitting room, the door closed. It was late in the afternoon and Annalise, still unable to sleep, was being kept company by Richard and Leonie.

"What are you not telling us?" Christine added, her fear evident in the expression on her face.

"I do not know how much longer Annalise can continue on this way," Dominic told them slowly and evenly. "She was already weakened from her ordeal and what she has just endured has only weakened her further. She has barely slept in almost five days. Her fever continues to climb and her pulse continues to race."

"What are you saying?" Raoul was surprised he could voice the question for he was sure he was not breathing.

There was no easy way to tell a parent their child may die. "If the fever does not break soon, I do not know if Annalise will sur ..."

"Do not say it!" Christine interrupted him and grabbed the front of Raoul's shirt. "You tell him not to say it!" she pleaded.

"How much longer?" Raoul asked, ignoring - for the moment - the terrified woman in his arms and his own fears.

Dominic scratched his forehead. "Late tonight or early tomorrow, perhaps. It is hard to tell with things like this but something must give."

Christine shook her husband. "Not my child. Not my child!"

Raoul drew his wife into his arms, knowing there were no words of comfort he could find to ease both of their fears. He could feel Christine's small fists beating against his chest, her tears starting to wet his shirt.

"Dear God, please!" Christine cried. "Not now, not now."

"You should prepare your family," Dominic told them.

So it was that in the wee hours of the next morning, while the rest of the world dreamed away in contented slumber, Annalise's loved ones gathered in her softly lit bedroom. The room was silent except for the sound of Annalise's labored breathing. She lay on her bed, propped up by pillows to aid her in drawing air into congested lungs. She tried to focus on the shadows surrounding her, knowing they watched and waited for something. She looked at the doctor as he placed cool fingers around her wrist, checking her pulse.

"Tired," she said.

"I know," Dominic replied gently.

"Cannot do this," Annalise breathed as she turned her head, attempting to focus on her parents standing at the foot of the bed. "Too hard."

Raoul felt the woman in his arms draw in a sharp startled breath.

"It is all right," a soft voice said from her side.

Annalise managed a small smile as she looked at the man kneeling at her bedside, his hands gently holding one of hers. "Andrew," she said.

"You need to rest," Andrew replied softly, reaching one of his hands to move a strand of damp hair from her fevered brow. He heard what he was saying, what he was telling her and it broke his heart. Yet Andrew knew that love was not supposed to hold tight but let go; it was a lesson he had learned from the family history that had brought everyone to this point. "I will be right here when you awaken and then we can plan our wedding, if you will still have me," he said with a smile. "I will give you my life if it will make you happy."

"I love you," Annalise managed to whisper as she strained to breathe, her chest rising and falling in exaggerated motion.

Andrew raised her hand to his lips. "I love you."

"So tired," Annalise told him, a small sad smile crossing her lips, her eyes slowly closing. "I am sorry." Her voice trailed off.

Andrew did not notice that every person in the shadowed bedroom stopped living as the room grew quiet, the raspy sound of Annalise's breathing fading into the surrounding darkness. He did not notice as Leonie and Therese turned to bury their faces in their husband's chests, Richard and Jean-Paul both drawing their wives close, their shoulders beginning to shake. He did not notice as Gustave and Katherine found each other, their arms reaching out, pulling near. He did not notice that Christine's knees began to buckle, Raoul struggling to hold her up as his own knees threatened to give way.

All Andrew noticed was the small hand that still rested upon his own. He looked at it curiously as the skin that had for so long been burning with fever began to cool, the sheen of sweat beginning to evaporate. He felt the racing pulse begin to slow. Finally, Andrew watched in amazement as the tiny hand slipped from his own to fall silently to the dark blue satin coverlet where it lay limp and still.