Author's Notes: Okay folks Tissue Issue warning time (again!). This chapter gets a bit weepy at the end. Consider yourselves warned!

Chapter Summary: As November draws to a close, lives begin to resume familiar patterns. Arthur receives a strange warning from Henri. Raoul and Christine make plans to be in Paris when Val and Meg's baby is born. Didier and Monique have an unnerving confrontation. And Erik finds himself alone beneath the opera house, the ghost now being haunted by his memories.

CHAPTER SEVENTY THREE

The shadows of November slowly began extending their reach, deepening and darkening as the days lengthened and bitter cold air from the far reaches of the Russian steppes began to blow over Europe. The smells of summer – the pungent order of the cities and the fragrance of the country – gave way to the same aromatic smoke from burning logs that tingled both nose and throat. Summer linens and silks and cotton were resigned to the backs of closets and the bottom of trunks as heavier materials – silks and wool and furs – were taken out, aired and hung in wardrobes and on wall pegs. Pantries and larders were examined for the remains of canning from the previous summer even as the last fruits and vegetables from the current season were labeled for storage. Light clarets and white wines were given over in favor of stronger cabernets and richer ports. For the lucky who could afford them, country and beach homes were closed as the masses gravitated back to the glittering lights of the city and the promise of a new social season. Yet there were those who did not wish to see the bright possibilities of the new year looming on the horizon for they only wished to contemplate the dying dreams of the old. There were those who did not wish to ride in open sleighs buried under mounds of fur and thick blankets but only wished to survive the long trip across slippery roads and tumultuous seas. And there were those who did not seek to rejoin the crowded masses of the cities but only sought to remain in the security of a quiet country home.

"Did I ever say this was quiet?" Philippe asked as he looked up from the letters that he was signing, glaring at the ruckus going on just beyond the closed door of his study.

Arthur chuckled as Philippe turned to look at him. "I believe that was one of the many charms that you elaborated upon when we left Paris." Arthur held up a hand began to bend a finger with each "charm" he ticked off. "Quiet. Unhurried. Quiet."

Philippe held up a hand of his own. "Point taken," he laughed and shook his head. "How is it that with even the simplest of words and actions, you always manage to throw my life back into my face?"

"It is an acquired skill," Arthur told him with a smile as he rose to his feet. "I shall go and find out what is making all the noise and ask whomever it is to be a bit more discreet."

"Thank you," Philippe replied, a hand going to rub his forehead. "One would think that headaches would be a thing of the past. Yet I find that this attempt," he waved his hands about the work in neat piles upon his desk, "to catch up with everything that had been placed aside over these last months is truly taxing my thought processes and my patience." Philippe glared at his closed door. "And that is not helping!"

"Consider it resolved," Arthur replied with a nod and disappeared through the study door. He stood in the hallway for a moment listening, trying to locate the source of the sound that was so disturbing Philippe. He raised his eyes toward the ceiling as the sound of something heavy being dragged across the floor caught his attention. Arthur sighed and shook his head and began to walk to the front of the chateau, ready to climb the stairs to the second floor. He stopped at the bottom of the grand staircase as he caught sight of Henri bouncing down the stairs, a heavy coat over his arm. "Good morning, Henri," he said, causing Henri to stop in mid-bounce.

"Arthur," Henri acknowledged as he fixed a smile upon his face.

"Do you have any idea what is causing all the noise?"

Henri turned his head to look back at the stairs that wound upwards behind him before turning back to Arthur, the smile still on his face. "Charlotte and Desiree are having items moved about in preparation for the arrival of their husbands and children." Henri cleared his throat. "Is it disturbing someone?"

"Philippe is a bit put out by the noise but he shall get over it." Arthur took note of the fixed smile upon Henri's lips and the way his long fingers fiddled nervously in and out of the folds of the coat that hung over his arm. "Could you spare a moment before you go to wherever it is you are going to speak with me?"

"Certainly," Henri replied in a chipper tone of voice that did not fool Arthur and followed him into a small parlor, perching lightly upon the arm of an overstuffed sofa, one leg swinging idly back and forth.

Arthur closed the door and turned to look at Henri, his eyes narrowing slightly at the practiced air of nonchalance in which Henri had wrapped himself. Arthur walked slowly across the room to stand before Henri.

"You are keeping me from a day of debauchery with Didier," Henri said with a smile. He laughed, placing a single finger over his mouth. "That was a clever bit of alliteration on my part, do you not think?"

"Just stop it!" Arthur hissed between clenched teeth. "Just stop it, Henri!" He drew a deep breath that he let out slowly, trying to calm his anger. "You may be able to fool your family but you are not fooling me! What are you doing? What game are you playing?" Arthur's eyes began to glint dangerously. "If you are contemplating anything that will bring harm to any member of this family …"

"I would never hurt any member of this family!" Henri exclaimed in a shocked tone of voice. He was silent for a moment before rising to his feet. He leaned toward Arthur, bringing his head very close to the other man's ear. "And if you value your life, you will stay out of this," Henri whispered and swept from the room.

Arthur could only stare after Henri as he strode across the room, opening and slamming the door closed behind him.

While the drama played out between Henri and Arthur on the first floor of the huge chateau, on the second floor – amidst the noise and racket of women rearranging rooms – a small oasis of peace could be found in a parlor in the east wing. Four people sat upon two sofas that faced each other, a table between the sofas upon which rested a china tea service and bowls of dried fruit and plates of small pastries.

"When must you go back?" Christine wondered as she looked at Meg and drew her husband's arm about her shoulders.

Meg sighed. "The first of December," she replied.

"But … but …" Christine stammered as she looked up at Raoul. "That is only four days away!" She returned her attention to Meg. "Can you not stay longer?"

"I wish we could," Meg said softly and cast down her eyes.

Val reached over and lightly clasped his wife's hand. "My mother is venturing forth from the hinterlands of the German border to spend a few months with us in Paris." He managed a slight grin as Meg turned to him, a look of pained resignation upon her face. "She is expecting us to be there."

"And we have not yet told her about the baby," Meg finished, her head shaking back and forth. "She is going to be utterly impossible about this! Just … impossible! She is going to be demanding a hand in raising our baby. She is going to want to be in the room with me when the baby is born. She is … she is going to be impossible!"

"Maybe it will not be as bad as all that," Val offered in a gentle tone.

Christine looked to Raoul and nodded. "Perhaps, I can be there when your baby is born."

Meg's head shot up. "What?" She glanced quickly at Val who was as startled as she before turning back to Christine. "You would do that for me?"

"Our baby is due in only a few weeks and I think with such a thing only recently behind me and being your sister, that gives me rights and privileges that your mother-in-law does not have." Christine winked at Meg.

Val was a bit more somber than his wife as he looked at Raoul. "Ah, but will you be ready to return to Paris by May?" he wondered. "You know what is going to happen the moment anyone sees you there – it is going to be circus! Everyone will want to see you. Everyone will want to see the baby. There will be a constant stream of people knocking upon your door. Are you sure you will be ready for such a thing?"

"No," Raoul admitted, smiling at Christine as she lightly squeezed the hand that rested upon her shoulder. "I am not sure of much of anything at the moment but I know I cannot hide away here – no matter how much I may wish to do so. There have all ready been so many letters and well wishes that I am surprised the mail coaches between here and Paris have not succumbed beneath their weight!" He smiled at the sound of Christine's giggles. "I know my family has been shielding me from the most prying of the letters; people cannot help being inquisitive."

"Damn annoying is how I would put it," Val told him.

"If I was not trying to remember my manners that is exactly how I would have phrased it!" Raoul replied and sat up a bit straighter. "No, I cannot hide behind the walls of Chagny forever and Christine and I have all ready discussed it; we will be in Paris when your child is born. Our baby will be nearly six months old by that time and I need to see my home, to thank my staff, to … to … to resume my life."

"Plus," Christine interrupted him with a smile, "we have begun the process to purchase the home in Bolougne." She looked at Val and Meg. "And after your baby is born, we are going to go and spend some time there." She settled into Raoul's side, a happy sigh escaping her lips as Raoul kissed the top of her head. "No one save our closest family knows where it is and we can go there and just be a family – just the three of us. We can take the baby for long walks along the beach and spend hours in the garden and …"

Meg smiled at Christine. "It seems like you have made a great many plans."

"It is a start."

Raoul nodded his agreement. "We have begun but we both know we still have much work to do."

"Oh, I predict a happy ending for all involved!" Meg enthused.

Christine winced and sat up.

Raoul was suddenly all worried attentiveness. "What is wrong?"

"Nature is calling," Christine said as she began to push herself up from the sofa. Meg rose and reached for Christine's hands, helping her the rest of the way to her feet. "I love our baby and I love carrying her but I am so very thankful that your ancestors had the foresight to install baths! I do not think I would be able to manage the stairs as frequently as I would need!" She turned slightly and placed a hand on Raoul's shoulder. "I shall be back in a few moments."

"I will go with you," Meg said and walked with Christine to the door. "Does it ever stop?" she wondered as the door closed behind them.

"Raoul," Val whispered urgently, drawing his companion's attention from the closed door. "Are you sure that leaving Chagny is quite safe?" Val shook his head grimly. "I know they have the men who took you locked away but what about the one who planned it?" Val had been privy to the news that had been coming from the inspectors. "Can you rest assured that he will not try again with different criminal elements? Can you take that risk? Can you allow Christine and your child to take that risk?"

Raoul's eyes closed and his complexion paled as he struggled with the memories of his captivity. "I cannot hide forever," he said softly as his eyes opened. "I have lost too much of my life to those bastards and I will not allow them to take anymore of it." A half-smile curled his lips. "In fact, it was Christine who suggested we return to Paris; for she wishes to be there to support Meg as Meg has supported her. It was also Christine who said we should purchase the house in Bolougne. She was correct; no one save family knows where it is and we can be safe there."

"Can you really?" Val worried.

Raoul shrugged. "As safe as we can be without continuing to hide from the world."

The world from which Raoul and Christine still hid was also hiding others – sheltering some, exposing others – all the while drawing each and every soul toward a destiny they could not picture in even their most fevered dreams.

Didier stood in the center of the upstairs hallway at Cote de Vallee, his hands on his hips, lips twisted in a frown. "Oh bother," he muttered.

Xavier chuckled as he exited the door to his bedroom and heard the words that passed from his young cousin's lips. "My dear boy," he laughed. "If you are to curse, you shall need to come up with a better oath than that!"

"Well, what would you?" Didier wondered as he held up his arms, the cuffs of his sleeves flapping open. "I cannot find a single pair of cufflinks that suit me this morning!" His brow creased. "Henri and I are going to the inn and Arlette does so love little things that sparkle in the low light."

Xavier continued to laugh lightly to himself. "The things the young will do to entice a comely woman onto their lap!" His laughter grew louder at the pained look that crossed Didier's face. "I was young once, as well," Xavier reminded him. "I have not forgotten the tricks!"

Didier's eyes grew very wide. "You shall have to tell me your tricks some time, sir," he breathed. "I am sure they are far more sophisticated than any poor attempts I may make!"

"No, I am afraid I cannot for I am beyond those years," Xavier replied, his look softening. "They stopped the day Monique agreed to become my wife and I have never looked back." He reached out to lay a hand on Didier's arm. "Enjoy your youth while you can, my lad, for all too soon the cares of adulthood shall intrude upon the gaiety."

"Ah, but you are still planning on the gaiety of a season in Paris," Didier smirked.

Xavier was a bit stunned. "I do believe you just set me up and knocked me down."

Didier held his breath.

"And just for that," Xavier continued and nodded at the closed door of his bedroom, "you may go in and borrow the cufflinks of your choosing. Just remember not to lose them in any games of chance." He winked at Didier as the young man walked toward the closed door. "Let me rephrase that – do not lose them in any games of chance that do not involve the affections of a comely young lady."

"Thank you sir," Didier grinned. "I shall do my best."

"Oh, I am quite certain of that!" Xavier's laughter echoed behind him as he walked down the hallway, disappearing around the corner and down the main staircase.

Didier drew a deep breath and opened the door to Xavier's bedroom, moving quickly across the room to the highboy against the far wall. He knew from childhood days spent watching his cousin prepare for the day's business that all of Xavier's jewelry was kept in velvet boxes in the highboy. Didier began to open the drawers, looking in to each and every box inside each and every drawer. His thin fingers pulled out a pair of amber cufflinks that he knew would reflect the low light of the inn as well as the amber color of his eyes. Didier placed the cufflinks atop the highboy and continued his search, careful to replace each and every box in its original place so that no one would know that he had been scavanging through the drawers. Didier knew what Henri had told him to look for and he grew more and more frustrated as he could not find the small item. He finally closed the last drawer and sighed in disgust as he took the cufflinks from the top of the highboy. Didier turned around as he slipped the second cufflink into place, fastening the clip that would secure the cufflink to his sleeve, and raised his eyes, a gasp of surprise escaping his lips as he found Monique standing before him.

"What are you doing?" she asked softly, her expression one of displeasure that was colored by an emotion Didier could not place.

"I am getting the cufflinks that Xavier said I could borrow," Didier told her with more courage than he felt.

"By searching each and every drawer?" Monique asked and shook her head. "I have been standing here watching the whole time. What is it that you think are doing taking such liberties?"

Didier drew himself up, surprised that his shaking legs could hold his body weight. "I did not any liberties, madame," he retorted. "I had permission."

Monique's eyes flashed violet fire. "I doubt you had liberties for the scene that I just witnessed!"

Didier paused but a moment before taking his life in his hands and grabbing Monique by the arms, pulling her toward him. "Should you say one word," he began.

Monique angrily shrugged herself out of Didier's grasp. "I would never say a word to do anything to disillusion my husband," she retorted.

"Very wise," Didier shot back and began to walk past the angry woman who stood before him. He found his progress stopped as a hand reached out to grab his arm, fingers closing about it, nails digging into his flesh. "I would advise you to let me go," Didier said as he turned to his head to look at Monique, the breath catching in his throat.

"And I would advise you," Monique said softly in a sweet voice that chilled Didier to the bone, "to carefully consider any future actions." Her eyes narrowed slightly, giving her the look of a predator hunting its prey. "Even as you watch, you are being watched." Monique released her grip on Didier. "Do not forget that, sir!"

Didier suddenly remembered his feet and moved quickly from Xavier's bedroom, his breath coming ragged and uneven as he descended the main staircase. He paused momentarily at the front door as the valet handed him his coat. Didier quickly grabbed the coat from the man's hands and shrugged into it as he left through the front door, not even pausing to allow the valet to open it for him. Didier stood for a moment on the front portico, drawing deep breaths of chilled air, steadying his nerves, waiting for his racing heart to slow. A cough from lungs that protested the sudden chill that invaded their warm halls brought Didier back to his senses and he walked down the stairs to the horse that awaited him. He took the reins from the stableboy and lifted himself into the saddle, guiding his horse down the front drive. As Didier and his mount paused at the turn onto the main road, he encountered Henri and his mount at the corner.

"What is wrong?" Henri asked as he took note of his friend's pale face.

"Now it is my turn to ask you to get me out of here," Didier said as he turned his horse onto the main road, waiting as Henri swung his mount around.

"With pleasure," Henri replied.

Pleasure of another kind was all that Erik could find as he walked morosely about what was left of his lair. It was a bittersweet emotion as he glanced at what still remained after the destructive mob and the inquisitive gendarmes. He walked slowly through the rooms; eyes once again acclimated to the dim shadows, hands touching memories of a different time, a more powerful time, a time when he held sway and none would dare to go against him. Now everything lay in ruins from the charred roof of the opera house to the moldy, trampled remains of the man who had once been the Opera Ghost.

Erik's hands ran over the metal of the swan bed, his eyes looking at the worm-eaten red silk, the black lace that hung in tatters, seeing them as they were in another time. He closed his eyes, drawing a hand to his chest, feeling the way Christine had felt in his arms – so light, so warm, so innocent. Erik's fingers closed about the sculpted feathers; how could he have let her go? How could he have allowed her to slip through his fingers for a second time? How could he … Erik's eyes opened, his fingers unclenching, a disgusted sigh escaping his lips as he took note of the green verdigris from the metal. He wiped his hand against his black pants, not caring about the streak that appeared on the black linen. "I let her go because she asked me," he whispered to the encompassing shadows. "I let her go because I loved her too much to do otherwise."

He took a few steps down into the main room of the darkness that he had called home for so many years. Erik stopped as he looked around, sighing, struggling to find something to reclaim. A single foot kicked out at a moldy pile of something that he was sure had once been his drawings. Erik coughed as the papers scattered along the floor, a trail of dust mites and other unmentionables following in their wake. "Useless," he muttered grimly. "Utterly, utterly useless." A small part of Erik's mind wondered whether he meant the mess on the stones or the mess in his heart; Erik quickly silenced the thought.

Erik took another few steps toward his organ, pausing beside the bench, carefully brushing away the accumulated dust and debris. He sat down and straightened his back as his fingers poised themselves over the keys. Erik closed his eyes and granted a modicum of control to his conscious thought. His fingers began to move over the keys, memory of notes indelibly imprinted upon his soul, coming forth – unbidden – from his fingertips. Erik played in silence for a long moment before his fingers curled and his eyes opened. A part of him wished to smash his hands down upon the keyboards but Erik found he could not do so for the organ had been his true friend for too many years. "The music is dead for both of us, dear friend," he whispered softly as he turned on the bench to stare out over his domain. "There shall be nothing but silence from this moment forth."

Erik rose to his feet and walked toward the water, pausing just at the edge. He stared down at the ghost of a man staring back at him. A toe reached into the water, stirring the still liquid, taking the image and changing it, shaping a different image from the deep recesses of Erik's mind. Suddenly he was no longer look at himself but at the image not of an angel but an all too human being. He found himself staring into gray eyes that glittered like the stars he had once watched from a midnight garden. Erik removed the tip of his boot from the water and sat down on the damp rocks, placing both feet into the water, through the face of the woman, scattering her to the shadows of his lair.

"Silence," Erik whispered to the darkness. "Nothing but silence."