Gregory's eyes.

A nondescript shade of blue, watery, but not the luminous aquamarine of Christine's. Yet, when juggling or working as Master of Ceremonies, could light up the room, making one forget the comfortable homeliness of his long face. As a doctor, they could soothe any patient – allaying the fears anyone seeking aid in the infirmary – the reason for being there most often an accident. When happening in a strange place, especially an amusement park contributing to the patient's anxiety.

Erik can see nothing else as he reaches the end of the walkway leading to the gazebo. There was only one other time in his life he could recall seeing eyes filled with such sorrow…his own the first time he saw his face in the mirror an eternity ago but might have been yesterday. Shock first, then fear, then sorrow realizing the immutability of his situation…and hatred. Towards whom, he wonders. The world at large, perhaps. Himself?

He suspects this must have been how he looked when Christine left him that dreadful day beneath the Opera House. The only woman he ever loved – ever would love. Gone forever. Nothing gave him solace then and he suspects nothing will ease Gregory's pain now…or ever. Only Christine's coming to America, loving him, being his wife healed him. Nadir's loss of Mitra comes to mind. Nadir. Oh, Adele, what have you done?

Back to the moment.

Gregory's love for Meg was greater than he realized. Alexander and Grace were holding an empty shell between them. Only his eyes alive are with torment he understands but has no idea how to help heal or even comfort in this moment.

As angry as the doctor was when hearing how Meg was dosing little Louisa with the cough syrup – leaving her at least for a while, he always supposed the man would bring the little family together again. Gregory's devotion to Meg began on the Atlantic crossing and, somehow he would find a way to deal with whatever situation she conjured up. The few years they were a couple brought about a change in the man no one expected.

Being a father, being married to a woman he adored, found the oddly built man with his long limbs the confidence he long sought in himself. The trip to America was a beginning – leaving his home where no one could take his being a physician seriously. After years as a juggler, then Master of Ceremonies, the opening of the infirmary brought Gregory back to the work he loved…and Meg's acceptance.

That journey introduced the two men, the woman and her daughter, along with Alexander – Grace would join them in New York where they would become family – something none of them had naturally. Now that family was broken – irrevocably. Not just through Meg's death, but the manner of her dying. Murder.

How was he to explain to them…to Gregory, in particular, what Adele did and some idea of why?

"You!" Gregory cries, pulling away from Squelch and Miss Fleck, he stumbles across the gazebo down the three steps leading to the walk.

Erik reaches the bottom steps of the summer house in time to catch Gregory in his arms as he falls. Bracing himself, he manages to keep both of them from losing their balance. "Come, let us go back up with the others. We need to talk."

"You bastard." Grabbing Erik's arms, he pulls himself up and begins flailing his fists against Erik's chest.

"What are you doing?" Taken aback, Erik grabs his wrists.

Squelch gets up. "Gregory! Stop."

"He killed her. He always wanted her dead. Trouble maker she was. Whored herself for him and he just wanted her gone and now she is gone. My Marguerite. My beautiful, sweet girl. Damn you!"

Each man takes an arm and help the distraught doctor back up the stairs.

"You never forgave her for Gustave – you and Christine always hated her. This was your chance. Crazy Meg at it again. Did herself in this time."

"You know that is not true," Squelch says. "Meg always had problems. My, God, Gregory she almost killed Gustave and her own mother that night. You were there. If Erik wanted her dead, he would not have waited ten years. Left to her own devices, her death was bound to happen. The business with the mirror tells you that much."

"You all hated her. Do not think she did not tell me." Gregory yanks his arms from the men and walks away from the three friends, staring out onto the garden. "Why did you do it? I should never have left her. I should have known you would take the opportunity to rid Phantasma of her once and for all."

"I did nothing to Meg," Erik says, calmly, not moving. "We both did our best to remove the mirror fragments from her body, stitched and bandaged her – feeling certain we did our best. There was no reason to believe she would not survive. We both left at the same time, and I returned only when I received the call from Yasmine."

"You knew how she died." His voice barely audible, filled with tears and angst. "You knew chloroform would look like a natural death."

"As would you have, were you not so distraught."

"Me? Why would I kill her? I loved her – I was the only one who loved her," he growls. "I would never have left her…not really…I just wanted her to stop being…"

"Meg?" Grace offers. "You wanted her to stop being herself. How many times did you have to rescue her? This was only the most recent."

"You know that is not what I meant," Gregory sputters. "You think I did it?"

"No," Erik says. "I know you did not do it."

"Gustave then," he hisses. "He came back."

"Enough," Erik says. "Say what you will about me, but do not accuse my son of any wrong doing, even though he, of anyone had every right to want retribution, did his best to help save her."

"She was sorry for what she did, none of you ever let her forget that night."

"You know that is not true, Gregory," Grace says, sliding from the bench to walk over to the grieving man. Taking his arm, she holds it against her as she leans in to comfort him.

"Meg never let anyone forget that night. All her problems were blamed on that night – or what led up to it. You could never see past the Meg you fell in love with, always making excuses for her," Squelch says.

"Do not make it worse, Alexander." Grace shakes her head at the strong man. "Meg tried."

"Now you are beginning to sound like him." Squelch waves her off, moving away to look out at the garden.

"Stop," Erik commands.

The Trio falls silent.

"Adele." Sighing deeply, he sits heavily into one of the two Adirondack chairs. "Adele killed her."

The others stare at him.

"Adele?" Gregory says, shaking his head. "No. Not her mother. I do not believe it."

"Yet, you believed I would kill her?"

"You had reason," Gregory retorts. "You killed before."

"So that means I could kill again, anytime? At will?" His tone dry with a glimmer of sarcasm. "Meg? Why now? Why at all?"

"Now you are just being stupid, Gangle," Squelch says. "And offensive, if I might add. Erik has done nothing to bring on this attack."

"Leave him be," Erik says, waving a hand. "He is grieving."

"Why are you so tolerant of him? The bloody idiot?" Squelch says. "Accusing you of murder – after all you have done for us? Or Gustave? For Meg? Especially for Meg."

"Because I know how he feels. I know his grief. For that reason alone."

"Otherwise?" Gregory asks.

"Otherwise, you would be gone from my home. From Phantasma. From my life." Rising from the chair, he says, "You are welcome to stay here with Louisa until you have your bearings. Your wounds are old and rotting – take some time to think about healing."

"He is right," Grace says, taking the doctor's cheek in her hand. "We are here for you. Are we not, Alexander? The Trio?"

Shrugging his broad shoulders, he nods. "We are mates. These women make all of us batty."

"There you see, Gregory," she says. "You are not alone."

"Erik, I am sorry." Gregory rises from his seat, holding onto Grace with one hand, reaching the other out to Erik.

"Yes. I know. I am, too." Ignoring the gesture, Erik turns away and walks toward the steps. "If you will excuse me, I must speak with my son now."