Chapter Summary: Louis returns to the aftermath of Nico's "episode". Raoul finds comfort in his "angel". Monique is not feeling well and neither is Philippe and Xavier finds himself tending to them both. And Henri's reaction to his homecoming is rather odd.

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

The dirt road meandered up the hill outside of Grenoble. It was thin and slightly overgrown but bore signs of recent use – the ruts cut into the grass and weeds from a heavy wagon were testament to that fact. The road led to an isolated farm that had seen its fair share of tenants come and go; there was something about trying to eke out a living from a rocky hillside that deterred all but the hardiest of souls. Now the farmhouse was let during the spring and summer seasons for the enjoyment of those who could afford such things. No one wanted to be in the hills when the heavy snows and blowing winds of winter would rush down from the high peaks. But it was highly doubtful that the men who currently resided in the stone farmhouse gave a care about such things.

Now – as the sun began to rise about the mountains - Louis urged his horse along that dirt road. He raised his head at the brightly shining orb and sighed – all he wanted was a mug of strong wine and a comfortable bed. He had ridden throughout the night, not giving a thought to the dangers of dark roads; Louis could very well care for himself. Louis' rear was numb and the muscles in his legs were beginning to cramp. He reached down to run a hand along the neck of his mount – the horse was just as tired. A slight smile crossed his lips as the horse clopped through the gate and into the courtyard of the farmhouse. Louis closed his eyes and sighed as he pulled back on the reins, the horse whinnying gratefully at the cessation of motion. Louis opened his eyes, looking toward the barn, wondering how the guest was faring when he saw the open iron box in the middle of the courtyard. Stiff and numb muscles were forgotten as Louis quickly dismounted and sprinted into the farmhouse.

"What the hell is happening here?" he demanded as he burst through the front door.

"In here," a voice called back.

Louis turned toward the sound of that voice and quickly entered the kitchen. "Jesus Christ," he breathed as he stopped in the doorway, taking in the sight before him.

Francois sat at the table, back rigid against his simple chair. His eyes were bloodshot and drooping and a gun rested on the table before him, his fingers curled around its grip.

Across from Francois, Nico sat in a similar chair, a smile on his lips, his eyes wide and innocent. "Welcome back," he said without taking his eyes from Francois. "I would stand," Nico continued and looked down at his chained body before finally raising his eyes to look at Louis, "but I am rather tied up at the moment." Nico laughed at his own humor.

"Jesus Christ," Louis repeated and his mind finally began to function. "Where the hell is he?" he shouted at Francois.

"In the barn," Francois answered, "where he belongs."

"Alive?" Louis demanded.

"No thanks to our Nico," Francois grimaced. "Our friend has a bit of a banged up head and he had a few hours in the box. I do not think he is thinking or seeing too clearly." Francois' fingers uncurled from about the gun. "I had to drug Nico so that I could get our friend out of the box." He shrugged. "I did not know what else to do so I chained him in that chair and I have been sitting here with him ever since." Francois yawned. "Maybe now I can get some damn sleep."

Louis closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose as he struggled to compose himself. His head turned toward Nico as his eyes opened. "What the hell were you thinking?" He shouted. "You know we need him alive! Miserable but alive!" He towered over the sitting man. "Broken but alive! Alive - do you have any concept of the word?"

"I had a lapse of judgement," Nico said softly. "It is pitiable but it will not happen again."

"Goddamn right it will not happen again," Louis snarled. "You can stay right there till we get back from the barn." He turned toward Francois. "You. With me. Now!" he ordered.

Louis and Francois left the room, knowing that Nico's eyes followed them as they moved past. They did not see the deadly gleam that came to those eyes once they left.

"It will never happen again," Nico said in a strange voice to the still room, the mad fire dancing in his eyes the only movement from a deathly still body.

A strange fire also danced in the eyes of another body also held still by chains. The blue gleam in Raoul's eyes was also bore a touch of madness in its desperate gaze.

"What is it?" he wondered. "What do you hear?"

The angel turned from where she stood looking over the stall door. "There is someone coming," she said.

"No," Raoul breathed, his head falling to his chest. "Oh no."

The angel moved easily across the stall, kneeling by his side, placing gentle hands on his face. "It is all right," she told him. "I am here now and as long as you stay with me, they cannot hurt you."

"I cannot take anymore," Raoul told her, unable to keep the cry from his voice. "Everything hurts and I am tired." His head shook slightly. "I am so tired."

"I know, my love," the angel whispered. "I know."

"Make it go away," Raoul whispered back. "Please make it go away."

"If you hold to me, I will give you the strength to survive this." The angel lightly rested her cheek against Raoul's. "Your child and I will give you the strength to survive this."

"Our child," Raoul echoed as he turned his head, feeling the softness of the angel's curls under his nose, the scent of lilies rising up his nostrils, lulling his stressed, confused senses, sending him to a happier time and place.

"Jesus Christ," Louis repeated as he and Francois stood in the stall door. "Who the hell is he talking to?"

"Damned if I know," Francois said; he turned to look at Louis. "I told you."

The angel by Raoul's side turned to look at the men. "I will not let you hurt him again," she hissed, wrapping her arms protectively about him.

"Angel," the softly spoken word escaped unbidden from Raoul's lips.

Louis stood silent for a moment as he assessed the situation. "We need to get him in the house for a little while; there will be hell to pay if he goes mad." He turned to Francois. "I do not think any of us – Nico included – want to see what will happen if he does." Louis turned his attention back to Raoul. "Help me get him upstairs and we can take shifts keeping Nico away from him." He walked across the stall to Raoul's unconscious figure. "Bed for you, my lad."

Even as Raoul's chains were released and he was half-carried, half-dragged to a makeshift bed on the floor of an upstairs room in the farmhouse, over a hundred miles away in a comfortable country estate, Monique, too, was being placed in bed.

"But, Xavier," she tried protesting as her husband drew the summer sheets about her. "I do not need to sleep." A thin hand covering a yawn gave lie to her words.

"You have not been eating," he reminded her as he sat down beside her. "You have been restless." A hand went to Monique's face to trace the dark circles beneath her eyes. "I can see how ill you are becoming." He tried looking stern but failed, giving his wife a wan smile instead. "I cannot bear to see you in such a state." Xavier shook his head. "I do not think I can stand any further loss."

A shocked look crossed Monique's face. "I am sure it is nothing!" she insisted. "I am just worn from the events of this last month. You do not need to fear for me!"

"I am your husband," Xavier reminded her. "It is my duty to fear for you."

"You have always feared for me," Monique told him and raised a shaky hand to rest it against Xavier's cheek. "Yet I am still here. I shall always be here." She closed her eyes as she yawned again. "I have not left for these twenty years and I am certainly not leaving now."

"No," Xavier agreed. "You are certainly not leaving. You are going to stay in this bed and sleep while I go and check on Philippe."

Monique's eyes flew open and she struggled to sit. "Oh, but I want to see him, too!" Another yawn escaped her lips.

"Perhaps, next time?" Xavier wondered.

"Perhaps," Monique told him as she fell back to her pillows, watching as Xavier turned to look over his shoulder. Monique watched as one of the maids entered her bedroom, a silver tray in the girl's hands.

"I had Cook prepare some of your favorite tea," Xavier said and motioned for the girl to place the tray on the bedside table; he waved her off and lifted the lid from a covered china plate.

"Oh," Monique said as a small smile crossed her face. "Lemons!" She turned to her husband. "How did you manage?"

"I have my methods." Xavier prepared a cup of tea for his wife, placing two lemon slices in the amber liquid, adding a teaspoon of honey and handing to Monique. "Just how you prefer, honey and lots of lemon."

Monique sipped at her tea. "It is wonderful," she sighed. "I am tired," she admitted and watched as Xavier placed the teacup back on the tray. "I believe I shall have that rest and maybe tonight I shall try some clear broth."

Xavier took her hand and raised it to his lips. "That is the first sensible thing you have said in days," he told her. "I shall tell Philippe you sent your regards."

"Thank you," Monique yawned and settled her head into her pillow. "And you promise to tell me everything when you return."

"Everything," Xavier whispered as he ran a gentle hand down his wife's dark hair, watching her breathing fall into the regular pattern of sleep before standing and leaving the room. He looked at the maid who waited in the hallway. "No one is to disturb Madame," he ordered, "she must rest."

The maid dropped a small curtsey. "Oui, monsieur," she answered him. "It shall be done as you wish."

"Good," Xavier muttered as he left the girl on guard outside the door to his wife's bedroom and left Cote de Vallee to ride the familiar roads to Chagny.

Xavier cautiously rode over the countryside, his thoughts racing in circles. There were the worrisome thoughts over his wife; it had been several years since he had seen her ill and he took no pleasure in her distress. He worried over Didier who had left chasing after Henri over a week ago – no word had been received from either young man since. Xavier drew his horse up as he approached the end of the drive that led to Chagny, the huge chateau looming before him. He noted that the flags that normally announced the Comte was in residence no longer flew from their pinnacles. "Philippe," he muttered in a strange voice and gently nudged his horse forward.

Xavier hastily climbed the stairs leading to the front door of Chagny, taking them two at a time, tearing his riding gloves from his hands. He did not bother to knock on the great door but simply opened it, glaring at the startled valet who was rising to his feet. "Where is Monsieur le Comte?" Xavier demanded.

"In … in … in …" the young man stuttered and drew himself together. "Monsieur is in his study," the valet replied and reached out a hand to Xavier who was already striding down the hall. "But he does not wish to be disturbed."

"When has that ever stopped me?" Xavier said as he opened the door to Philippe's study. He stood quietly in the door, his eyes struggling to grow accustomed to the dark room.

"What?" came the softly spoken words.

Xavier shook his head and slammed the door shut behind him, walking across the room and flinging open the drapes before turning to stare at the man in the chair behind the desk. "Merde, Philippe," he breathed.

"Precisely," Philippe responded, his eyes blinking away the light that suddenly flooded his study.

"When was the last time you ate?" Xavier wondered as his eyes raked over Philippe's disheveled appearance. "When was the last time you changed your clothes? For God's sake, Philippe! When was the last time you even moved from that damn chair?"

Philippe shrugged. "I ate … something … last night. I could not taste it but it smelled like food. I changed my clothes this morning but shaving seems to a silly thing to do." He turned his head to look at the mantle clock. "And I was out of this chair an hour ago when the mail was delivered." He turned blank eyes back to look at Xavier. "There was a telegram from Arthur – he is returning in two days time for he can find no trace of Christine. The staff in Paris thought she was coming back here with her maid. The people who might know where she is are protecting her secret with a loyalty that is to be admired were it not so damn aggravating. My sisters have both returned to their families. Henri has disappeared and Didier with him. Neither you nor Monique have been here for days. And what is left of my brother lies rotting in a crypt. This house is large and silent and slowly driving me mad."

"I should just walk out that door and leave you here to wallow in your self-pity," Xavier told him, his tone of voice angry and irritated.

Philippe waved a hand toward thedoor of the study.

Xavier blew out a long breath and crossed to where Philippe sat, grabbing his arms and pulling him to his feet. "If you do not stop, I am going to hit you," Xavier warned.

"I am sure it has been done between our families before," Philippe answered with a raised eyebrow.

"Philippe," Xavier hissed between clenched teeth.

The two men stared at each other - Philippe finally breaking the silent impasse. "I cannot stand the quiet of this place anymore," he told Xavier. "I never realized how large and how silent it can be. I never realized how loud the sound of my own footfalls could be." He closed his eyes in pain. "I never realized how many ghosts hide in the shadows."

"Philippe," Xavier said, his tone no longer angry. "Philippe," he tried again. "Open your eyes and look at me." Xavier waited until Philippe had once again opened his eyes. "I am sorry I did not come before but I had business that needed attention and when I returned I found that Monique was feeling poorly."

His words startled a reaction out of Philippe. "Monique? She is ill?"

"It is just one of those episodes that she has had over the years," Xavier told him, trying to reassure the man to whose arms he still held. "I think these last weeks have been too much for her. I left her with a cup of her favorite tea and a maid to keep watch. She was drifting off to sleep when I left but she wanted me to send her regards and to tell you that she promises to be better shortly so that she can come for a visit."

"What is happening to me?" Philippe asked as his eyes searched the face of his best friend for an answer.

Xavier finally let go of Philippe's arm, waiting until Philippe had once again sank into his favorite chair before taking a nearby chair. "I think you are behaving well given the circumstances," Xavier had to admit. "I do not know that I would be doing as well."

Philippe briefly looked down at his clothes before raising his head again. "This is not like me, though," he said. "Even when my parents died, even when … when …" he swallowed in an effort to compose himself. "Even when Raoul and Christine were dealing with that man at the opera and I worried for them, I never – never! – let myself go in such a manner!" He shook his head, a puzzled look on his face. "It is almost as if my life has been torn from me …"

"Philippe," Xavier interrupted, "it has been."

Philippe rose to his feet and moved unsteadily toward the window, one arm reaching out to brace against the window frame. "I know that," Philippe admitted. "I know that but I do not know what to about it." He turned back to look at Xavier. "I cannot stand the fact that Christine is out in the world in some unknown place when she should be here with us. I do not understand Henri and this vision that seems to be haunting him."

"Vision?" The word caught Xavier's interest. "Now Henri is having visions?"

"Probably another drunken vision," Philippe said rather bitterly.

"Probably," Xavier had to agree and grew quiet, allowing Philippe to continue.

"I even begin to envy my sisters and the lives they have. I begin to hate them for the homes and families to which they have returned." Philippe sighed. "And I can no longer stand this guilt I feel for bringing Raoul and Christine here. If I had not done so, they would be anticipating the birth of their child and so would the rest of us." He ran a hand through his hair. "God, this guilt will eat me alive!"

Xavier set his lips in a thin line as he, too, rose to his feet. "Philippe, you had nothing to do with what happened to Raoul," he insisted. "And whoever it was will be found and there will be a reckoning." He took a single step forward. "I am sorry that Arthur could not find to where Christine has disappeared. I wonder if you will permit me to try? I have my own contacts in Paris, men I use when I need to learn something; perhaps I can succeed where Arthur could not?"

"You would do that?"

Xavier crossed the remaining distance to stand by Philippe, reaching out for his friend, this time the touch gentle. "You are my friend. You are grieving. The best thing in the world for you would be to have Christine here. I think it would do wonders for all concerned were she to have her child within these walls, first its cries and later its laughter bringing life back to this place." He managed a slight smile. "And to you."

Philippe struggled to keep his emotions under control. "I want nothing more than to have my brother's child and its mother here. I feel like I owe it to Raoul to ensure that Christine and their child want for nothing, worry for nothing."

"Then it is settled," Xavier nodded once. "I shall leave for Paris in a day's time."

"But what of Monique?" Philippe wondered. "Should you leave her when she is not feeling well?"

"I am sure it is nothing," Xavier replied. "She has experienced these things before and – while they come on her gradually – she has great recuperative powers. I am sure Monique will be on her feet within a day and here keeping you company shortly after."

"I do not want to be the cause of bringing her any further distress."

Xavier huffed. "Philippe, it will cause her more distress were she to see you in this condition!" Xavier looked his friend up and down. "You need to have a bath. You need to shave. You need to change your clothes and you need to get a decent meal inside your belly." He tilted his head. "Then you will be presentable enough for my wife."

Philippe let out a long breath. "Will you stay while I clean up?"

"I shall," Xavier replied. "And I shall ask Mathilde to get us something to eat while you are cleaning. I know your favorite foods and I believe that between the two of us, we can find something to tempt you. I shall even have something to eat with you and we can discuss what you would like me to do in Paris while we eat." He placed a comradely arm about Philippe's shoulders. "I believe I shall even send word out to try and locate Henri and Didier."

"I do not even care if they are found hung over in a ditch," Philippe told him as they walked into the hallway, "as long as they are found."

The sound of the front door opening drew their attention.

"Henri!" Philippe exclaimed as his cousin walked in.

Henri stopped just inside the front door, the color draining from his face as he saw Philippe and Xavier.

"Where have you been!" Philippe demanded.

"And where is my cousin?" Xavier added.

"Didier and I parted company at the crossroads just outside of town," Henri said, his unblinking eyes never leaving the faces of the men before him, turning to Xavier. "He was returning to your home just as I returned here."

"Where have you been!" Philippe tried again. "I have been frantic with worry! I am responsible to your parents for your continued well-being!"

"I just needed to get away," Henri told them, studying their faces. "I just needed to get away," he repeated softly before fleeing up the grand staircase.

Philippe and Xavier stood stunned as they stared after the young man, the sound of a slamming door echoing from above.

"What do you make of that?" Xavier wondered.

"I begin to think that no one will ever be able to make anything of Henri," Philippe muttered and sighed. "I should go and change." He grimaced. "Maybe even look in on Henri."

"And I think," Xavier began, "that it would be best to leave Henri alone. He was with Didier so I am sure that they did not get into any difficulties. And - amazingly enough - I do believe that Henri is sober. He will come to you when he is ready," he finished."

"You are right," Philippe told him. "Will you tend to the meal and I shall see you in thirty minutes?" He cracked a small smile. "You have free run of my home."

"Something my ancestors always wanted," Xavier winked at him.

"But something only we could have accomplished," Philippe said, his voice warm and sincere.

"Only us," Xavier agreed. "Only us."