As Roxanne fell, it felt like the world slowed. Cyrano forgot about the panic of being discovered, of his secrets being revealed, the fear of the kindness in her eyes burning out now that that she knew who had been romancing her for so long. Cyrano forgot about all of it. Her nightgown fluttered in the air as she fell, her pretty eyes wide with fear, and he moved without even having to think.

Roxanne landed on top of him, knocking the breath out of both of them, and for a moment there was only the sound of panting as they held each other close. Then the world sped up again. Christian was frozen in the gateway, where he had been the whole time. Roxanne was slowly starting to calm down, her hair fanned out over them, resting on top of him. And Cyrano's back hurt, having hit the cobblestones hard as Roxanne fell on him. But he started to take stock of his limbs, finding that none felt broken, and quickly reached up to cup Roxanne's face, searching for signs of pain. "Roxanne, are you alright?"

That seemed to bring her down to earth again. Roxanne scrambled away, and reached for his hand, her expression fearful. Not for herself, but for him. "My God, Cyrano, I am well because you caught me, but what about you?"

He winced as he sat up, his back twinging, knowing he would be limping for a few days, but as always he downplayed the injury for her. It felt too overwhelming to have her so concerned for him, even though the contact was something he craved for so long. "Oh, nothing wounded but my dignity, I assure you. Oh, Roxanne, you're trembling..."

Indeed she was, undoubtedly shocked by the fall, and her fingers shivered against his rough hands. She let out a shaky laugh, pushing her hair out of her face. "I fell out of my window in nothing but my nightgown, and Paris is unseasonable cold at this time of year..."

"Come, let's get you back inside." He pushed himself up with some difficulty, for once a little taller than her, but she only gazed at him, clutching his hand as her expression changed to one of realisation and suspicion. The sight twisted the knife in his heart that had been plunged in when Christian went to kiss her. Here it was, the scorn, dirision, hatred he had feared. He wanted to run, but still she held him, searching his face.

"Cyrano... was it really you?"

"Roxanne, I..." The great poet, overwhelmed and speechless for once. What could he say?

"Excuse me." They were interrupted, not by Christian, who simply watched them, but by another man, cloaked and elderly. He gazed at the scene he found for a moment, before holding up a letter. "Is this the home of Miss Roxanne?"

Roxanne finally let herself be helped up, and confirmed her identity, taking the letter. Opening it, her eyes flicked from side to side, reading over it quickly, before her lips began to tremble and a flush crept across her cheeks.

"Roxanne?"

She covered her mouth, and wordlessly held the letter out for Cyrano to read. He too read through it quickly, and his grip on the paper became tighter, stomach churning in disgust.

'My dearest, I have sent a holy man to you with a choice.
You have declared your love for me, and I can no longer wait to enjoy your treasures. I'm on my way to you.

If you keep the priest there, I will marry you.

If you send him away, we shall consummate our love without the bonds of vows.

Your choice.

Either way... I will possess you tonight.'

He could practically hear the slimy tone of De Guiche's voice through the paper and ink. Cyrano already despised the fop who thought he could woo Roxanne, who's lecherous smile and wandering hands made him sick to his stomach whenever they were directed at the object of his affections. But to reveal himself as such a brute, to force Roxanne into such a choice which was no choice at all... she deserved so much more than to be forced to bed a powder-caked noble. He felt sick. He could kill him, really, truly. He had already killed Valvert, and he wasn't afraid to make De Guiche bleed.

"All well?" asked the priest, obviously curious about the message he had been paid to deliver in the middle of the night.

"What does it say?" asked Christian.

Roxanne was faced with an impossible decision. Anything De Guiche was proposing was out of the question, she didn't care how much money he had or how long he had tried to woo her. But what could she do? For a moment she considered marrying Christian to save herself, but she could barely look at him. He had lied, excruciatingly. All those letters she had swooned over, thinking it was him... the kiss he had stolen, after her heart had been won in song... no, she couldn't marry him.

Cyrano? But he had also lied. He had made her believe Christian's lies, had set up the whole thing, and yet! But time was running out, and he was her oldest friend...

"Well, Miss Roxanne?" The priest was becoming impatient.

"I can protect you," Cyrano murmured, looking resolute. "Come back with me and I'll hide you."

"Cyrano, if he knew I was with you..." She dread to think. She really believed De Guiche would kill Cyrano, after all she did to try to convince him that the friendship was over. "He'll kill you."

"Not if I kill him first."

She looked down at the small man, and the look in his eyes was frightening. He was serious. He would defend her to his dying breath if he had to, she had no doubt.

"Father, you may leave." Roxanne turned to smile at the priest, who looked relieved. "I have received news that requires me to make haste. I am sorry for the inconvenience of being send out at this late hour, but I have no doubt the duke will compensate you well. Please, go home."

The old man shuffled away, and she turned to Christian. He shrunk at the cold look in her eyes. "You too. Go home. I do not need you any more."

Finally she turned to Cyrano. "De Guiche is coming. Please take me away."

Cyrano nodded, and took her hand, leading her away from the house and down the street. Christian watched them go.