Anne:

The only sort of folk what make me feel small is men toffs. That was part of the problem I had talking to that doctor, and the only way I ever managed with the Bontriomphes was that I kept in mind that I was paying them. The trouble was, the other Erik Touchet sounded like the biggest toff I ever come across, in what he said and how he said it, in how he acted, and in how he was dressed, all paint-fresh and tidy. It put me right off him, at first.

But when he began to cry like that, I remembered the boy what was made to live in a boarded-up attic bedroom, whose mother beat him for no more nor being a boy and doing what a boy will do, what was made to wear a mask and never got to play outside. It was that boy I held, and once the mask was off, I liked him better. He looked so much like someone I loved, I couldn't help it. But then I had to talk to him again, and I was minded that he was a toff all over again.

"His name was Barye—I'm sorry, I interrupted. Please, go on." he said.

"I been remembering it wrong, then. I should have had the compartment all to myself, but…"

I went on and told him all about it, leaving out what I said about his mother, being as I didn't want to go and make him mad. He looked wistful, like, when I'd done. We hadn't moved off the sofa, so we was sitting right up next to each other. It was right odd looking at his face, seeing my little lad in him, thinking that would be what my boy will look like when he's a man. Except for being different around the mouth and the eyes. I hope I live to see it.

"That was several lifetimes ago. I'm glad you learned from that sad example. As bad as that was, as badly as she treated me—there were some virtues in her. She was intelligent, and she was a good teacher. I would not have you think she was—entirely a monster."

He wasn't just talking about his mother, then. I could tell. His voice was something else again. It was like my boy's, yet not.

He looked at me again. He was looking at me like men have been looking at me for years, but on him—it was a hunger like a beggar child looking in a bakery shop window at all the breads and tartlets, baked to rich gold and shining with fruit like jewels, knowing he'll never get to go in and get what all he wants.

"Tell me—why did you go out of your way to take my name?"

"Cause a boy should have his father's name. And I didn't think he'd ever have nothing but your name. I was being sentimental, truth be told. I never thought as I'd meet up with you., and he'd a right to your name. It--it didn't sound as though you was a man who'd be getting married and having another son, and there didn't seem no harm in it. I'm sorry."

"You needn't be. No other woman has ever wanted it, and since I haven't been using it myself, at least somebody was getting some use out of it.", he said, bitterly.

"Anybody'd think you was talking about an old coat or a pair of shears or something. Are you going to go taking this to court…?"

"What? No. What a terrible way to repay you for all that you've done…You're safe from me. I don't want the money, I don't care that you broke the law, and I won't try to take the boy away from you. I would only become his Javert…You—are a far better parent to him than I could be. I have no experience in it, you see, while you, coming as you do from such a large and loving family, obviously do. He needs you far more than he could possibly need me."

I wasn't so sure about that, but I'd been thinking hard, the last few hours. His voice, though, it was doing something to me. It was making what I had in mind to say, when the time should come, a lot easier to come out with. Despite him being a toff.

"Who's Javert?" I asked.

"He was a man who owned me for several years, after I ran away from my mother and Dr. Barye…He kept me in a cage. He beat me, bound me, gagged me, and put me on display for money, to anyone who would pay to see me." His hand went up to his face, like he was just remembering he hadn't a mask on. "In the end, I killed him."

"You wouldn't do that to him?" I cried out. "You wouldn't!" If I couldn't trust him with the boy, then what I had thought of wouldn't work, never.

"The difference between living with you here and living with me…wherever I might go with him, would be as great as the difference between my life with my mother, and the existence I led with Javert. He would hate me."

"That Javert done all them things to you?" Now that I saw what he was getting at, it was all right, which was for the good, because I wanted to at least give things a try.

"And he was going to do worse."

"Can't say as I blame you for killing him. I'd do as much, if somebody snatched my lad and done all that to him. Have you—have you killed a lot of people, since then?"

"Yes. But not for many years, and no one at all for more than four years, not even accidentally. That part of my life is past now. Although I came close to it with M'sieu Giscard—but not that close."

"What did you do that for?"

"For making you…do what you had to, when you had offered him money instead. He should have taken the money. I don't blame you for going with him, because you did it for the boy…but why go to such lengths? Why not simply buy yourself a wedding ring and call yourself a widow, or settle for a simple forged certificate?"

"Cause them dodges is so old they've got whiskers. I wanted proof as could hold water, if ever it was looked into."

"It was very well done—I wish you had not had to endure that, though."

"It isn't something I like thinking about–or talking about, if it comes to that. It weren't pleasant, but it didn't kill me, and I'd like to close this and go on to something else, if you don't mind."

"I'm sorry." he said.

"That's all right…Do you really want to teach the lad, like what you told him?"

"Yes, I do, very much. Was that why you came to the cottage, because you found out?" was what he said.

"That was it. He got all confused, and it come out. Is teaching him proper, like how to read and write music, not just play it, is that the sort of learning what takes a while?"

"It can take years—perhaps many years, if he is to learn to play different instruments, and to understand the infinite aspects of music, its forms, its styles."

"And could you—if you wanted to—teach him all that?" I asked.

"Yes. As far as his talent and inclination can take him."

"What are you thinking of doing now, aside from maybe teaching the boy? I knows you was an architect, and a musician, and all manner of things, and your friend, M'sieu Khan said as you hadn't no occupation, now. Where do you stand for money?"

"I have enough for my present needs, and will be much better off soon, once some property I own has been sold. As for what I will do—I have a plan to set myself up as a private investigator, and look into matters and into people's backgrounds, for a fee. It was you who inspired me, in fact. I found, once I started looking into the mystery of you and the boy, that I had a taste for that sort of work—and that I enjoy it tremendously."

"What, like Vidocq?" I'd read an old book about him, the man what came up with the idea of the Sureté. He was always disguising himself, always in trouble and chasing after actresses, sometimes a policeman, for a while the chief of the Paris police, and later a private investigator. The reason he was so good at catching crooks was cause he was one himself. I'd liked reading about him; it seemed a right exciting kind of life.

"Yes, rather like Vidocq."

"But you got to have somewhere to live and work from." I pressed

"Yes, I will certainly need that." He sounded and looked sad.

"Do you know where you're going to go?"

"No. Not at present, not as such, no. It would be convenient if it were near a railway, though—since it is the sort of business that could take one all over at a moment's notice."

If I was going to come out with it, now was the time. Even if he was the biggest toff in the world. Even if I was afraid he looked down on me for being what I am.

"Would you—Could you see your way clear to staying here? Evrondes is right on the railway, see, and if you was working out from here, you could teach the boy regular, when you wasn't detecting something. I don't know how you was thinking of working it—I mean, if you was teaching him how to read and write music, you'd have to be in the room with him, right?"

"Yes, I would. I had not thought as far as that, however."

"And if you was in the room with him, he'd have to see that you was wearing a mask, see, and he'd be bound to be asking all manner of questions. He's getting to be old enough to think up real tricky ones, too, and he works things out on his own. And—oh, I made such a mess of my life! All these years, I've been telling him about you, this whole story about how his father and me met and made him, and his father—you—had to go away before he was born. You don't know how that's been eating me, you can't imagine—cause he's getting old enough to see through this, faster nor I ever thought he would. It's like I built his whole world out of cards, and it's going to come crashing down!"

"I'm afraid I don't see where you're going with this."

"What I'm asking is this—will you go along with what I've told him, and others, all these years? I'm not saying as you should lie, just that you come into our lives as if it was true. You'd live along of us—I knows what you once told the Countess, that you wanted a good wife, and a normal sort of home, and to go out walking of Sundays, and all—I'll—I'll be your wife. I'll make sure your shirts is always done the way you like them, and if you get sick again, I'll look after you. You'd only have to tell me whatever it is you like best to eat, and you'll have it on the table, regular. I don't expect that you should love me, not like what you loved the Countess, when that she was Christine Daaé—but—but if you could like me well enough, I'd be good to you. I would."

A/N: Yes, this IS a short chapter, all because I wanted to end with this cliffhanger! Bwahhaha!

Vidocq was a real person, and his story is a fascinating one, but I will not get into it here and now.

Well! Shout-outs!

Butterfly Guitar, you were absolutely correct.

Kuro kyoko: I have no idea what ff net might have done with chapter 28. They can be very weird that way. Thank you, and because I do not want you to die, here is an update!

Phantom Raver: Yes. I was getting choked up while I wrote it, and that's a good indicator.

Sat-Isis: Thank you! Turmeric is made from part of the flower of the turmeric plant, dried and ground up. It's sort of a saffron-yellow ochre color, and it's used in a lot of Indian and other ethnic cuisines. It has a mild but distinctive taste that goes well with vegetables, eggs, chicken and seafood.

HDKingsbury: Yes indeed, the scene of which you speak will be highly significant….

Patricia: Thank you! I sent you an e-mail—did you get it?

Polly Moopers: Interesting name….Well, I doubt if this one would have made you cry, but if you or anyone else says you saw it coming, I'm going to have to demand documentary evidence that will stand up in court.

Sue Raven: Thank you. I am always glad when people perceive my aims in my writing.

Sarahbelle: How can I resist such a plea? Here is more.

Rozzandmaya: Thank you! Now when are you going to write more of 'Little Moments'? I haven't forgotten….

Bella: I can only wonder what this chapter will do to you… Enjoy!

Lindaleriel: Thank you so much. And thank you also to Nota Lone, An Anti-Sheep Cheese Muffin, Pickledishkiller and Erik for President.