Chapter Summary: Inspector Rousseau comes across Xavier's victims. Tallis finds herself wishing the afternoon along anxious to get to Erik – no matter the cost. And at the end of a pleasant evening, Xavier finds himself alone with Raoul and Christine … to say goodbye …

Author's Note: Okay folks, I am going to tell you that as you read through this chapter that it is important to remember to breathe ... breathe in ... breathe out ... repeat as necessary and Enjoy! (insert evil cackle here!)

CHAPTER SEVENTY NINE

Cold.

The first thing Henri could feel was cold, nothing but the cold all around. And dark; it was so very dark. Perhaps he had one of his drunken afternoons, stumbled home and opened the window for some fresh air before falling into bed. That must have been it, he had gotten drunk and fallen into bed. Now he could not find the energy or the will to get up from bed to close that damn window and the snow had probably been blowing in through the opening. Henri smiled as he imagined how irritated Philippe would be when he saw the mess in the room. Henri could even hear the lecture Mathilde would surely give him for allowing such a thing to happen. The smile disappeared from his thought as he pictured the stern, disproving look he would receive from Arthur.

Arthur.

Why did that name, the picture of the man, stir such a fire in his heart? Henri thought about it for a moment and could not find the strength to spare another moment for Arthur. All he wanted to do was roll over and go back to sleep. Yet Henri found his limbs would not respond to his commands. He thought it must have been hell of an afternoon. He knew it must have been for he could already feel the headache that followed such things beginning. Henri sighed – it was just one more of those things for which he could not spare any energy. He could not find the strength to get up and close the window. He could not find the desire to pull the blankets up around himself to ward off the cold. He could not care about the morning's lectures or the morning's headache. Henri was cold and tired and all he wanted to do was sleep. So why did that damn voice keep calling out his name? Did the person not know enough to leave him alone?

"Lord de Chagny," someone was calling to him, shaking his shoulder.

Henri told the person to go away and leave him alone, unaware that the sounds that passed his lips were completely unintelligible.

"Henri!" the voice called with more urgency.

"What?" Henri finally managed to say as he felt a hand creep beneath his neck to slowly lift his head. "Dammit, man!" Henri growled as someone's fingers prodded at the base of his head, turning his familiar headache into a very good imitation of a blacksmith's iron and anvil.

"You must open your eyes!" someone ordered Henri.

"No," Henri slurred as he somehow found the strength to bat away the hands that were trying to lift him to a sitting position. "Put me down and let me sleep."

"Open your eyes now, damn it!" a voice shouted at the top of its lungs.

"Fine," Henri muttered and slowly his eyes began to open and they quickly snapped shut as the light forced the pounding in his head to turn into one constant, unending beat. "Oh God," Henri breathed. "Just let me go back to sleep!"

"Henri," the voice spoke as the emotional urgency in its tone growing with each word. "This is Inspector Rousseau. You must open your eyes! You must get to your feet!"

Henri heard words - through the beating pain in his head that echoed the beating of his heart – which made no sense. He barely managed to turn his head a fraction of an inch, slitting his eyes open to stare at the man kneeling next to him. "Inspector?" Henri breathed and then stronger, "Inspector?" Henri opened his eyes a little further, finally beginning to look about himself. "Where … what…" His attention turned back to Inspector Rousseau. "What happened?" Henri's eyes looked down at the snow in which he sat, finally beginning to feel the cold wet clothes that covered his body. "Why am I sitting in the snow?" Henri slowly lifted a hand to gently touch the area in his temple that pounded so hard. "Ouch!" he said as he quickly withdrew his hand. Some instinct told Henri that there would be another sore spot on the back of his head.

"What is the last thing that you remember?" Rousseau asked as he began to help Henri to his feet. "Not so fast," he said as Henri began to sway and he tightened his grip on the young man.

"I was speaking to…" Henri frowned and winced, the effort to think nearly too much for him to handle. Suddenly his eyes grew wide and he turned to Rousseau, no longer caring as the world spun and began to grow dark before his eyes. "I was speaking to Arthur and then I left to meet with you and…" The color drained from Henri's face. "Didier," he breathed.

Another person in another part of France was also finding the emotional tension brought about by fear and anticipation nearly too much to bear as she drew back the drape and looked out at the window at the afternoon sky that was slowly beginning to darken. Tallis stood quietly, biting her lip, her foot beginning to tap. She raised her eyes to the sun and began to wish her life away. She wished the sun to hurry and set. She wished the afternoon shadows to lengthen into the purple shades of twilight. She wished her friend would leave the comfort of his cousin's home and arrive at the front door of the home in which she stayed, the dark horses and dark carriage ready for whatever the evening might bring.

"Whatever the evening might bring," Tallis whispered softly as she let the drape fall back into place.

"Looking at the world outside will do nothing to hurry time along," a voice said from behind her.

Tallis turned around to look at Antoinette sitting in a comfortable chair; a book opened on her lap, glasses perched at the end of her nose. "My mind knows that but my heart does not," Tallis replied as she walked to the sofa and sat down. "It is all I can do to not run about from room to room, screaming like a banshee."

"Banshee?" Antoinette asked with a raised eyebrow. "Erik must have been telling you fairy stories."

"I can be nervous without him," Tallis replied and held out her hands for Antoinette to see, they were shaking and Tallis quickly folded them into her lap.

"But you were never this nervous before you fell in love with him," Antoinette reminded her friend. "He has a habit of doing that to people – putting them off their guard – without even realizing he has done so. Are you ready to spend a lifetime living in such a manner?"

Tallis sniffed and stuck her nose in the air. "It would not be a lifetime," she said softly, "for I am not like this when I am with him."

Antoinette said nothing but smile and turned her eyes back to her book.

It took only a moment for Tallis to once again rise to her feet. She began to pace, wringing her hands. "Why do I try to fool myself?" she asked to no one in particular. "Why do I let him do this to me? I do not even know what may meet my eyes should I survive all his devious traps!" Tallis continued to pace for a few minutes, unaware of Antoinette looked at her from beneath her lashes. Tallis finally stopped in her pacing and plopped down on the sofa, her hands continuing to fiddle with each other. "Who am I really trying to fool? I know it is not myself." She sighed and leaned back on the sofa. "I have all ready fallen into the most devious of his traps – I fell in love with him." Suddenly Tallis sat bolt upright. "Oh no," she said as her head began to shake. "He would not have… He could not have… He did not…" Tallis could not finish her thought.

"Erik would not or could not or did not what?" Antoinette wondered as she lifted her head so that she could stare at Tallis.

Tallis did not have an answer for her.

"Shall I tell you?" Antoinette said as she closed her book. "He would not make you fall in love with him. He could not make you fall in love with him. And he most certainly did not make you fall in love with him." A slight, wistful smile crossed Antoinette's face. "Erik may be devious. He may be cruel. He may even be evil at times. I have no doubt as to the makeup of his character and, therefore, I am under no illusions. But you fell in love with him and he only responded to that which he saw. He fell in love with you because you loved him first." Antoinette shook her head. "It is as simple as that," she finished as – once again – she opened her book.

Tallis thought silently for a moment upon Antoinette's words before rising to her feet and beginning to walk toward the window that looked out over the snow-covered back garden. "I am so sorry, Erik," her softly breathed words carried back over her shoulder, causing Antoinette to nod knowingly. Tallis could not see that for all her attention was focused on the world beyond the warmth of the sitting room. She pulled back the drape again and her foot resumed its tapping. "Oh do please hurry this day along, God," Tallis prayed as she continued to wish her life away.

Other wishes, other prayers were on the lips of the two men who walked down the pathway to Cote de Vallee, Inspector Rousseau still offering a steadying support to a faltering Henri. Inspector Rousseau had gotten Henri to his feet from where he had lain unconscious in the snow. He had been unable to deter the young man from continuing his journey; Henri having been certain that his cousin would be safe surrounded by a room full of family. Inspector Rousseau had reluctantly agreed with that conclusion as both of their thoughts turned to the person Henri had named as his attacker and then to the person they had originally been going to meet. Neither man had a good feeling about the fate of their companion or the other person who was missing. Henri had hoped - as Inspector Rousseau helped him mount the horse that had remained tied to the tree - that Didier and Monique were – indeed – safe at Chagny. Yet that hope began to quickly fade as they had approached Cote de Vallee and it faded exponentially as the two men approached the darkened, still house.

"It does not appear as if anyone is home," Rousseau said as he surveyed the great house from the front portico. "I do not even think there is a servant home." His eyes drifted upward to the chimneys. "Not even a puff of smoke," he said quietly.

"Damn it all to Hell," Henri muttered, his words still somewhat slurred. His hand reached for the knob to the front door and turned, the door opening. He turned his head to look at Rousseau, closing his eyes for a moment against the spinning world.

"This is not good," Rousseau said softly as he looked into the darkened house before turning to Henri. "Do you know where your friend was looking for the evidence he knew about? If you can tell me, I will go and see what is there?"

"There is a small room in the attic." Henri reached out to grab tightly to Rousseau's arm. "But you are not going without me!" Henri insisted.

"You are in no condition to be climbing stairs," Rousseau tried.

"Then I shall go without you," Henri replied and stumbled into the darkened house, heading toward the main staircase. He paused at the bottom for a moment, a hand reaching out to the banister, steadying a body still weak, chilled and disoriented. Henri felt a hand on his arm and turned to see Inspector Rousseau standing beside him.

"We shall both go," Rousseau told Henri as they began to climb the stairs. "Are all you de Chagny's this stubborn and ill-tempered?" he wondered, forgetting his station as two men worked together in the midst of evil toward a common goal.

"It is a family trait," Henri said as they reached the second floor. He suddenly grew very quiet. "Can you hear that?"

Rousseau turned his head to the right and left, listening for what Henri thought he heard. "To the left," he said and the two men turned, walking down the hallway and stopping, horror and shock on their faces at what greeted their eyes, what had been making the noise they heard.

"Didier!" Henri exclaimed and broke free from Rousseau's grasp, falling to his knees beside the body of his friend that was sprawled on the floor just beyond the open attic door. "Oh Lord," Henri breathed as he took note of the strange angle at which Didier's left leg was bent. "He reached out a tentative hand to his friend, careful of Didier's right arm that was bent at nearly the same strange angle as his leg.

Rousseau got on his knees beside Henri. "Monsieur de la Censiere?" he asked. "Can you hear me?"

"Didier, please!" Henri pleaded, a cry in his voice.

Slowly the head that was face down in the expensive Persian carpet began to turn. In the lowering light of late afternoon, Henri and Rousseau could see the dried blood colored Didier's pale complexion, the bump that swelled his eye shut. "Help," Didier breathed softly.

"We are right here," Rousseau told him.

"No," Didier breathed and the eyelid on his uninjured eye began to flutter. There was a long moment of silence. "Monique," he finally said softly. "Drugged. Needs to walk. My room. Bottom drawer. Make her drink it." The effort expended was too great and Didier's eye closed.

"Didier…" Henri said tentatively and turned to Rousseau as the Inspector grabbed his arm.

"Where are the rooms?" he asked, his tone grave and insistent.

"Uh … uh…" The world began to spin around Henri and he closed his eyes for a moment. "Other end of the hall past the landing."

"Stay with him," Rousseau said as he rose to his feet and sprinted down the hallway, barely able to hear the cry that came from Henri.

"Oh God, Didier! What have we done?"

Rousseau purposefully ignored the two, injured young men at the other end of the hall as he began to burst through door after door. The third room he entered was obviously that of a young man – dinner clothes hanging neatly on a clothes rack, shoes neatly lined up in the open wardrobe. Rousseau quickly entered the room and began to open the bottom drawers of the chest and highboy, pulling out the items stacked within, not caring where they fell as he tossed them over his shoulder. Finally, in the back of the bottom drawer of the nightstand on the left side of the bed, Rousseau found that for which he was looking, a small bottle containing a milky white liquid. He wrapped his fingers about the vial and sprinted back to the hallway.

Each door he tried opened easily and finally there was no other door but the double doors at the end of the hallway. Rousseau tried the knob only to find the doors locked. A grim look crossed his face as he rammed his shoulder into the door. Once. Twice. "Damn stupid," he berated himself. Rousseau took a step back from the door and reached into his pocket, pulling out a pistol. He aimed for the lock on the door and pulled the trigger, the shot echoing around the still house. But Rousseau paid no attention to the sound as he shoved the now unlocked door open. He took one look at the bed and saw something beneath the blankets. He moved quickly across the room.

"Oh dear God," he breathed as he took note of the still woman on the bed, a gag about her mouth. Rousseau reached out a tentative hand to her neck and felt a faint pulse. "Thank God," he sighed as he removed the gag and threw back the covers and paused in shock. "What kind of animal does something like that?" he wondered and reached for ropes that bound the woman's hands and feet, lifting her to her feet and forcing the liquid in the bottle down her throat. "You must walk, Madame," Rousseau said as he lifted the nearly inert woman to her feet. "You must walk!" he urged her.

And the man who had planned the events that had brought everyone to a crossroads they could not imagine, looked at his watch and pushed his chair back from the card table. "That is it for me," Xavier laughed as he looked at the small pile of coins that rested before him. "I am afraid I have reached, passed and exceeded my limit."

"Oh surely not!" Desiree said as she batted her eyes at him. She had always found her brother's best friend to be a strikingly handsome man and time had not diminished her fascination with him.

"No," Xavier rose to his feet. "That is definitely my limit." He smiled at Desiree who was seated beside him and took her hand, raising it to his lips. "But I promise I shall return soon so that I may lose to you – again – before you must return to Italy."

"And next time you must be sure to come on a day when Monique is feeling quite herself," Charlotte said.

Xavier nodded and smiled at the quiet woman across the table. "I promise," he swore and turned to look at Christine who was seated with Val and Meg, talking quietly. "She just did not wish to expose two expectant mothers to whatever it is that is causing her to sniffle and cough."

Philippe turned from where he had been adjusting the fire that blazed in the hearth. "And we thank her for that." He smiled sadly. "Oh, but she was so missed this evening!" His look grew somber. "And as for Henri…" he muttered.

"Do not be too hard on him," Xavier said as he walked to Philippe, laying a hand on his friend's arm. "I am sure he just met up with Henri and the urge to spend a quiet hour or two at the inn was just too great for them." He grinned at Philippe. "Beside, Arthur volunteered to fetch the two of them." He winked at Philippe, lowering his voice. "I would not wish to be in their shoes this evening." Xavier winked. "I think a scolding from Arthur is far worse than being called into the headmaster's office."

"And how many times were we called into the headmaster's office." Philippe laughed and rolled his eyes. "You are correct, I would not wish to be either of them once Arthur finds them."

"Neither would I," Xavier replied. "Neither would I." He looked at the clock on the mantle and shook his head. "It is late and I really must be getting on for there are things that still must be done." He sighed heavily. "The work of an adult is never done."

"Do you think Henri and Didier will ever learn that lesson?" Philippe wondered.

"I doubt it," Xavier told him and both men laughed. "But I would like to say goodbye to Raoul before I leave. Do you think he would be awake?"

The sound of her husband's name caused Christine to turn her head. "I am sure of it," she replied, "and he did say he wished to see you before you left."

Xavier crossed to Christine's side and held out his hands, helping Christine to her feet.

"That is getting harder and harder," Christine laughed as Xavier slipped her arm through his, patting it lightly.

"But you still do it with grace," he said and turned to look at the faces in the room. "I promise to stop in for a final goodbye after I say my good-byes to Raoul and Christine." Xavier turned toward Philippe. "Do you mind?"

Philippe smiled warmly at his friend. "I could not trust them to better hands." Philippe raised an eyebrow. "But do not forget to stop and see us before you leave!"

"It is a promise," Xavier said and led Christine out of the room.

"I am so sorry that Raoul tired after the meal and felt the need to go rest," Xavier said as he helped Christine to climb the grand staircase. "Does that happen often?"

"Still more than I would like," Christine admitted and then brightened. "But he has accomplished so very much since he returned to us!"

"He has," Xavier agreed. "I was surprised to see him downstairs." He paused to correct himself. "Pleasantly surprised, of course."

"Of course," Christine laughed as the reached the top of the stairs. She stopped, causing Xavier to pause.

"What is it?" he asked, a puzzled look on his face.

"I wanted to thank you," Christine began softly. "I understand you were the one who showed Raoul the first letter I sent to Philippe. I understand you spoke with him." She shook her head, a smile on her lips. "That was the day he began to change, began to – once again – be the man I married." Her voice softened to nearly a whisper. "The man I will always love." Christine stood on her toes for a moment, placing a kiss on Xavier's cheek. "Ooh," she said as she wavered a bit and quickly put her feet back on the floor. "My center has definitely changed," she laughed. "No more ballet for me!"

"I am certain the future holds other surprises for you," Xavier said.

"I am certain, too," Christine said as she caressed her child. "I shall go and see if Raoul is awake. Do you know the small parlor near his room?"

"Of course," Xavier nodded. "Would you like me to cheer the fire there?"

"Please," Christine said. "I do not want Raoul to catch a chill."

"No, we most certainly do not want that," Xavier replied. "There are all ready enough people suffering from the chill of this early winter weather." Xavier walked Christine down the hallway.

"I did miss her tonight," Christine said. "She has been nothing but gracious toward me. I hope Monique recovers quickly."

They stopped by the open door to the small parlor. "She will soon be happy and free from any chill," Xavier said. "I shall go and cheer the fire while you see if your husband is awake." He watched as Christine nodded and walked down the hall, entered a door several doors down, before turning into the parlor.

Xavier closed the door behind him, taking note of the key in the lock. He smiled and moved to the long glass doors that opened onto the balcony. A hand reached out, testing, making sure they were not locked. He nodded and turned to the hearth, walking over to it and kneeling before it. The fire was very low and Xavier moved the fire screen out of the way, a hand reaching for the heavy rag that hung near the pokers. He wrapped the rag about his hand and reached up into the chimney, feeling for the damper and moving it till was almost closed. He took his hand back and replaced the rag. Xavier poked at the fire until it flared, burning brightly. He replaced the fire screen and walked over to sit on the sofa waiting for Christine to return. He did not have to wait long.

"Raoul just woke up," Christine said as she entered the room. "He said he will be here in a few moments." She smiled as she walked across to sit next to Xavier. "He wanted you to know that he is so glad you remembered to come and say goodbye to him."

"I will always remember to say goodbye to your husband," Xavier said as he patted Christine's hand. "He is very special to me."

Christine clasped Xavier's hand warmly. "He is very special to me, as well!" she whispered as she leaned toward Xavier, sharing a secret of which everyone was aware.

"As if there was not a single person who did not know that," Xavier said and began to cough. "What is that?"

Christine coughed, as well, and turned to the fireplace, seeing smoke beginning to filter through the fire screen. "The damper! It must be closed!" she exclaimed and turned back to Xavier. "My baby!"

Xavier quickly rose to his feet. "I will go and open the damper," he said and helped Christine to her feet. "You go and open the doors! It will not take long to air the room! If we do it quickly, it can be warm in here before Raoul arrives."

Christine nodded her assent and moved to the long windows, watching as Xavier knelt before the hearth. She turned back to the windows, opening them and stepping onto the balcony, breathing in huge gulps of clean, crisp air. She smiled as she felt hands on her shoulders.

"You were correct," Xavier told her, "the damper was nearly closed. You should tell Philippe to remind his staff of such things."

"I shall," Christine replied, wrapping her arms about her in an attempt to ward off the cold night air.

"You should also be careful of second floor balconies," Xavier whispered in Christine's ear as he leaned over her shoulder. "As you so recently said, your center of balance is off. It would be very easy for you to stumble and fall over the balustrade."

Christine turned around, a puzzled look on her face. "Why would I go near the balu…" The word froze on Christine's lips, the puzzled look on her face turning to one of shocked horror as she noted the jewelry visible beneath the now open collar of Xavier's shirt. "Oh my God," she breathed. "That cross. I would know it anywhere. That is Raoul's cross!" Christine raised large eyes to the man before her. "That is Raoul's cross!" Christine's heart chilled at the look on Xavier's face. "It was you! You were the one…"

"The one what, my dear?" Xavier interrupted in a strange tone of voice, his gaze distant, focused on the balustrade and not Christine.

The instinct to protect her child took over and Christine pushed Xavier out of the way and began to move quickly toward the closed door of the parlor.

"Not so fast," Xavier said as he grabbed Christine from behind just before she reached the door.

"Hel…" Christine started to scream and her words cut off by a hand that was quickly slapped over her mouth.

"We do not want that," Xavier hissed in her ear. "We have to wait for someone else before anyone starts calling for help." He turned Christine around, pinning her against the wall behind the door, his hand once again covering her mouth. "Your husband has learned that calling for help does no good," Xavier whispered as he leaned toward Christine who was squirming in his grasp. "My, my, my," Xavier said with a wicked smile, "you are a little fighter, are you not."

The sound of the doorknob being turned drew both Christine's and Xavier's attention from their struggle.

"Raoul," Christine tried to call out from beneath the hand pressing over her lip as she increased her struggles.

"I said no!" Xavier whispered angrily as he pressed up against Christine, fingers from the hand over her mouth reaching up to pinch her nose closed, his other arm going over her throat, effectively pinning her against the wall and stopping her struggles.

Christine watched the world around her begin to go black, her child kicking furiously, tears slipping from her eyes at the sound of a beloved voice.

"Christine," Raoul wondered as he entered the room, "are you here?"