The cry of a baby pierced the silence of the De Chagny household. Noiselessly Raoul dragged his weary body from his bed and lifted his son out of the bassinet. After Raoul returned from Paris earlier that afternoon, he had insisted upon having Christophe always near him. Raoul carried his infant son back to the bed, allowing Christophe's head to lie on his chest while he gently rubbed his back. As the crying began to cease and stillness once again overtook the room, the emotions that Raoul had suppressed that day finally rose to the surface, threatening to overwhelm him like a tidal wave. He remembered that, as a child, he had thought his father the bravest man in the world; that any man with a family knew no fear. He now understood how terribly wrong he had been. The fear he felt now, for his wife and his son, was deep and endless. Raoul wrapped his arms protectively around Christophe's tiny form.

"She will be with us again soon. Your mother would move heaven and earth to be with you," he whispered gently. Raoul sat that way with his son until morning, when Henriette knocked on the door.

"Yes?" Raoul called.

Henriette opened the door and entered timidly, "I'm sorry to disturb you, Monsieur, but there is a man waiting to speak with you in the foyer. He says that his name is Inspector Reinard."

Raoul's face brightened slightly at the announcement. He stood carefully and strode across the room to the door.

"Would you like me to take Christophe while you speak with your guest, Monsieur?" she asked, offering out her arms for the child.

"No thank you, Henriette," Raoul replied as he placed a hand to the back of his son's head.

In a moment Raoul was in the foyer, greeting Reinard. "What business brings you here?" he asked curtly.

Reinard ignored the question, turning his attention to the baby Raoul held in his arms, "What an adorable little boy. May I hold him?"

Raoul looked down pensively at Christophe, hesitating for a moment before handing him over to Reinard.

"I'm afraid that there is something serious that I need to tell you. Please have a seat."

"I prefer to stand," Raoul said defiantly, his arms crossed over chest.

Reinard spoke in a soft tone, "I really believe that you should sit down."

"Very well," Raoul replied, sitting down in a large armchair.

"Despite the fact that I was risking my reputation, I decided to investigate your claim. I discovered that there was report of a disturbance two nights ago. An old man living near the outskirts of the city, not very far from your estate, claimed that he had witnessed a crime. He gave a description of the victim, a description which matches your wife. She was pushed to the ground. Apparently she hit her head very hard…" Reinard's voice trailed off. "Raoul I'm sorry. We believe she was killed."

Raoul looked at him in disbelief, "You can't say for certain that it was Christine, though."

"You said that the last time you wife was seen, she was leaving for a late-night walk. Does this walk take her towards the city?"

Raoul looked down at the floor.

"Raoul, when I read his description of the victim, I would have bet my life that he had seen Christine. Based on the clothes that the woman was wearing, it was obvious that she came from a family of some wealth. Surely someone would have missed her, and you are the only one to come in and report a missing person."

"But…but you didn't say that you found her…" Raoul was unable to say "body"; the word was too cold and distant to describe his wife. "You didn't find her. How can you say she is dead?"

"I know it's difficult to accept. The responding officer said that there was so much blood at the scene…should she have survived the blow, she would have needed medical attention almost immediately. If she had tried to return home in her condition, any number of things could have happened to her. We have little hope that she is still alive," Reinard said softly.

For a moment Raoul sat in shock, absorbing the words that echoed in his head. "We believe that she was killed." She's dead. Your wife is dead. You promised to protect her. That was your duty. She depended on you, and you let her down. And now you'll never be able to tell her you are sorry. You'll never be able to tell her that you love her. You'll never watch her brush her hair in the morning or feel her breath on your neck while she sleeps. She'll never hold her son again. She won't be there to see him take his first steps, go off to school, get married. Your son will grow up never knowing his mother. And you're responsible for it all.

Raoul wrapped his hands around his head and began to sob.

"Raoul…" Reinard began, but before he could speak another word, Raoul was on his feet. He violently threw over the chair that he had been sitting in. He pulled paintings down off the walls and threw anything he could pick up before collapsing into a corner. Reinard had turned his back to shield Christophe from his father's outburst. When he turned around once more, Raoul's head was in his hands and he was crying uncontrollably.

Raoul tried uselessly to wipe the tears from his eyes as he stood and approached Reinard. He held out his arms and Reinard handed him his son. Raoul placed a light kiss on his son's temple. He remembered how he had kissed Christine that way, trying to calm the fears he believed she had imagined. The thought of Christine brought pain like the stabbing of a knife in his heart.

Raoul closed his eyes tightly and said in a trembling voice, "Thank you for everything, Reinard."

"I only wish I could have brought you better news," Reinard replied, putting on his hat and coat. "I can see myself out."

"Henriette," Raoul called out.

"Oui Monsieur?" she asked as she entered the room. Her knees went weak when she noticed the chaos of the room and Raoul's tear-stained eyes.

"I need you to gather all the servants together. There is something that I need to tell you all," he said in a pained voice.

"Please, Monsieur. I can tell them," she said quietly.

"Thank you, Henriette. After you have told them, would you please have Christophe's and my things prepared for an extended trip?" he asked, his voice breaking.

"May I ask why, Monsieur?"

"I wish to take my son to Perros," he answered softly.