Chapter 2

A/N: I'll apologize in advance if this chapter seems boring. Sorry. Anyway, on with the story. PS: Sorry if you think I am incredibly evil. I know.

The police had long since pried away Marie's fingers away from his cold ones and taken his body away to who-knows-where but she still couldn't take her eyes away from the very spot he had been, walk away from the scene that, an hour ago, he was still with her. At least, it felt like an hour. His blood was still fresh on the pavement.

Her thoughts wandered to Raphael's last words; he had said he loved her. She found that strangely relieving; ever since she had seen him and fallen in love, she had been afraid to tell him as she had been worried that he didn't love her back. Now Marie knew that wasn't the case. She only wished that she could have spent more time with him.

A shrill tweeting sound snapped her out of her thoughts. She looked up to see a bluebird standing among the blood and memories, it's little head cocked, it's innocent eyes staring at her. It continued to stand there, motionless, just staring and staring and staring. Marie looked at this bluebird in wonder and awe, wondering how something so innocent had wandered into her world. She continued to look at the bird, waiting for it to do something, and the bird continued to stare at her, as if waiting for something to happen.

Marie didn't know how long they stayed like that until she remembered some of Raphael's last words. What was that he had said about wanting to be a bluebird? Yes, he mentioned that he would like to be a bluebird; he would come and visit her, to see her one more time. And here was a bluebird, looking at her and nothing else.

It was impossible. It just couldn't be.

And yet, Marie wasn't ready to dismiss this yet.

Marie wasn't about to turn down this last link to Raphael just yet, no matter how ridiculous. So she scooped up the bluebird in her hands, got up and walked away from the scene, violin and bluebird in hand, and never once looked back.

Marie was in Raphael's apartment now. It was closer than her own home and there was still something she needed to know.

Napoleon wanted a book from Raphael and, judging from the knowing in Raphael's voice, he knew what Napoleon wanted. Marie wanted to find this book; to get their before Napoleon and find out why he wanted it so badly, and to see if there was any way she could protect it's secrets.

'But which book is it?' she wondered as she stared up at Raphael's brimming bookcase. She looked around the room in despair until something caught her eye.

There was a thick, drab looking book sitting alone on the bed with a slip of paper poking out from within the pages. It may not be what she was looking for but it was certainly interesting.

Marie picked up the book and turned to the page the paper bookmarked. She took out the slip of paper and set the open book down. She began to read what Raphael's scrawly handwriting had recorded.

'Note to self:

Don't let Napoleon get this book. He must never find what the book says. Ignore him if he knocks on the door again and pretend to be out. Find time to hide this.

This was what Marie was looking for.

She put the note on the table behind her and picked up the book. She saw that the note had bookmarked a page that began a section of the book. She was about to turn the page to see the contents of the book Napoleon was so interested in when there was a knock on the door. She looked up, surprised. Who would be knocking? She hoped it wasn't Napoleon.

She decided to peer through the window to see who it was first rather than to just open the door. When she had confirmed that it wasn't Napoleon, she opened the door to find Inspector Vergier and Charlie on the doorstep.

'Hello.' she said, with a hint of surprise. 'How did you know I was here?'

'Police reports.' replied Vergier. 'They told me you came here after the incident. I am very sorry.'

'… Your police officers are rubbish.' Marie deadpanned.

Charlie snickered while Vergier stood in shock at the statement. 'W-well,' he spluttered, 'I see where you come from, but they're not that ba-'

'Yes they are.'

'W-well, how can we help you?'

Marie assumed a thinking position. 'Funny you should say that, I've just found something interesting.' She beckoned the two inside.

Once they were inside, Marie showed them the book. 'Apparently, Napoleon wants it, but I haven't had a chance to read it yet.'

Charlie peered intently at it. 'May I see it?'

'Sure.' said Marie, passing the book over to her.

Charlie took the book and flipped through the pages of the section, trying to glean information from it. Then she froze, eyes widened at the knowledge of whatever she had read.

'What is it?' asked Vergier and Marie in unison.

Charlie looked up. 'This section of the book talks about a vial of something called Reversal Spring water. It says that some mountaineer found this spring water in a cave full of the stuff and took some in this vial. They tested it on some bird. Just a drop turned it back to a chick!'

Marie gasped, Vergier frowned. 'Where is it now?'

Charlie continued. 'Well, apparently, this guy's house got made into a museum after he died, so it's there, just sitting there. It's quite near here, actually.'

'Napoleon must be after it,' said Marie thoughtfully, 'just think of what he could do if he had it…'

'Rally troops, take over Paris…' Charlie trailed off, 'This is bad!'

'We need to post more security on the museum.' said Vergier, 'Charlotte, let's get back to the Constabulary!'

Charlie rolled her eyes at her name but nodded anyway.

'Do you want us to take the book?' asked Charlie.

Marie shook her head. 'I would like to keep it.'

'Very well.' said Charlie, passing the book back. The two left, leaving Marie on her own again, with on one but the bluebird for company.

Marie sat on the bed and looked at the book. She began to read. Most of it was what Charlie had already said but just as she had given up finding something new, a sentence caught her eye:

'The Spring water can reverse even time itself.'

Marie stared at the fact in wonder. Could that mean… Raphael could come back?

She had only just thought this when there was another knock on the door. Taking no chances, Marie looked through the window first. She stifled a gasp.

It was Napoleon and his men.

Quick as a flash, Marie was away from the window. Did they know she was here? They must have done, or they wouldn't have knocked. She had to hide, and there was no better place than the secret basement.

She slipped over to the bookcase, taking the violin, bluebird, and book with her. They mustn't know she was here. She stared at the bookcase; there was a specific book you had to pull to open the secret passageway. If only she could remember which one!

The bluebird, which had been motionless until now, suddenly sprung to life, flying out of her hand and landing on a single book, looking at her expectantly. Marie would have thought more carefully about how the bird could have known and if that was just luck, but considering the predicament she was in, she just pulled the book. The passageway opened and she escaped into it, bluebird included. The doorway closed not a moment too soon as the door to the apartment was forced open.

From behind the bookcase, Marie could hear the voices of Napoleon and his men. Judging by the noise of moving furniture, crashing, and raised voices, she could tell that they were trying to find the book, and her.

She could hear Napoleon's voice rising. 'It must be here, where is it?'

One of the Chevaliers answered. 'Sir, it's not here.'

Napoleon answered, outraged. 'The girl must have it. She must have taken it and ran. Search the whole of Paris! Find her!'

Footsteps faded away and the door slammed, but even then, Marie waited ten seconds before opening the bookcase door.

She knew that this near encounter meant two things; One; she was in serious trouble. Two; she needed to get out and get to the Constabulary to report her findings to the police.