A/N: SOOOOOOO sorry for the slow updates! I have a new job! Individual replies next time!

Chapter 22- A battle of a War

How long had it been? Days, weeks? It could have been months for all she knew. She had spent however long it had been since the attack avoiding Philippe but somehow he was always around, playing the devoted brother, concerned now for her withdrawal from public life. Apparently, or so she had been told, half of a De Chagney's life was spent socialising with fickle sycophants, she realised that she found them repulsive. He acted like nothing had happened and, although she tried, she simply couldn't be so nonchalant about the event. Her husband's brother had attempted to rape her and now he was expecting her to schmooze like it hadn't even occurred.

She sat propped up against a pillow her head resting back onto the frame of the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Its swirling patterns had captured her attention and she lifted her finger into the air and tried to trace their routes around the ceiling. No use, of course, but this was far more entertaining than spending her time downstairs at the Christmas party with all of those mindless leeches.

Christmas. Perhaps it had been months. She let her hand fall and rub her eyes as she heard a click in the door. It opened a crack and Raoul peered around the side, smiling gently.

'How are you feeling?' he asked, genuinely concerned. She managed to force him a smile back but it evaporated quickly and she became stony once again. His smile faded too, as he stepped inside the room, shutting the door slowly behind him. He wandered over and sat at the edge of the bed with his back to her.

'I'm fine,' she whispered and rolled over, so that now they were back to back. She slid her hand under the pillow and used her other arm to hug her own body.

'Then why not come down to us, Christine?' he asked, without turning to her. Still he heard her grown.

'I'm not that fine,' she replied, a note of irritation creeping into her tone.

'Everyone would love to see you,' he said and when she didn't reply. 'They haven't seen you for… I don't know, how long is it? Weeks?'

'I don't want to,' she said.

'Why not?' He asked, becoming exasperated.

'Because I don't.'

'You're acting like a child,' Raoul said, dropping his head into his hands. Christine sat up and stared at him.

'It's down to name calling now?' she asked, looking at his back.

'I wasn't name calling,' he said. 'What is wrong with you?'

'Nothing,' she said and he turned around, his eyes red.

'Christine, please,' he said, his voice cracking into fragments as it dripped from his lips. 'Tell me.'

'I said nothing, didn't I?' she snapped. He stood and glared at her.

'Yes,' he said, trying to control his temper. 'But you lied.'

'I didn't.'

'Yes you did, you are, you're lying to me. Just tell me what's wrong, I can help. I know that I can.' He said, she didn't reply, she just stared up at him. 'How can anything be so bad that you have gone inside yourself?'

'Stop it, Raoul,' she said. 'I don't want to talk.'

'You never want to talk,'

'That isn't true,' she said softly.

'Should I rephrase that?' he asked, his tone angered. 'You never want to talk to me.'

'That isn't true either,'

'Oh please!' he said, slumping back to the bed. 'What's going on with you?'

'Nothing,' she repeated and he balled his fists by his sides.

'Stop lying to me!' he said, raising his voice.

'I'm…'

'You are!' he cried. 'You are lying, I know that you're lying. You think… you think I can't see it? There's something wrong, you're… always so melancholy and withdrawn, what is it Christine? What's going on?'

'Let it go, Raoul, please,' tears angered her eyes.

'No,' he said, 'I won't let it go, I won't. I'm your husband, Christine.'

'I know that…'

'Then confide in me!'

'I…' she began but stopped as a tear dropped to her lip. He glanced at her, before staring out of the window, almost removed, pretending her tears weren't real.

'You?' he asked, without looking back at her.

'Nothing,' she whispered and he let out a long sigh.

'Don't say that again, tell me.' He said, firmly.

She didn't answer instead she walked to the window seat and leant with her back to the wall, staring into the black night watching the snow fall silently to the expectant earth. She felt Raoul's eyes on her and she choked back a sob, memories pouring into her mind. The emptiness of the night made her remember so much.

'Tell… me…' he said slowly, trying to calm himself.

'I can't,' she said softly.

'Why?' he said. 'We're an open family, my family are always talking. The de Chagney's, we're known for our openness, talk to me.'

'You sound like your brother,' she sneered and anger seared through Raoul.

'Is that the problem?' he said. 'Philippe? Good grief, Christine, he is making such an effort.'

'An effort?' she snorted, turning to stare in bewilderment. 'Your brother is not making an effort.'

'He is, Christine, you are simply too stubborn to see it.' He turned to leave.

'Your precious brother and your stupid family.' She cried. 'Your wonderful brother tried to rape me!' she yelled.