Christine

"Damn that man!" I hear an irritated masculine voice shout, immediately followed by the sound of two fists colliding with the wood of a desk.

I venture from my room in the de Chagney's mansion, down the hall a few doors, and into Raoul's study. "Raoul?" I open the door slightly and step in to find him with his hands clenched in fists on his desk, the day's paper scattered in individual sheets about the room. "What's going on?"

"The gendarmes are incompetent fools! How hard can it be to find one man!"

"Who?" I lay a hand on his shoulder.

"Please, don't act like you don't know! You are perfectly aware of who. Erik!" he retorts angrily. "The gendarmes still cannot find him!"

"Raoul, Erik is much wittier than you give him credit for. He won't be so easy to find; in fact, he's probably already moved to some other town. He knows better than to stay around here," I explain.

"I don't care where he goes! I will find him, and he will be brought to justice."

"Raoul, my dear, why is it so difficult for you to understand him. Just think about it...how would you act if you were abandoned as an infant, brought up by gypsies, and ridiculed for the deformity that isn't your fault."

"Christine, he abducted you from your room and the stage, forced you to do his bidding, and brain-washed you. How can you still have sympathy for that...that monster?" He grips my shoulders as he comes to his feet. "He deserves to die."

"He deserves a second chance just like everyone else." I pull away and glare at him.

"No...he doesn't."

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"Erik Mardon, you have been convicted of three counts of murder by a jury of Parisians, as you have no peers. Now, I sentence you to face the firing squad in three days," an angry judge said, lowering his gavel having finished his statement.

Erik's face was as hard as stone as he was dragged away in shackels. He knew this day would come...the day when he'd be forced to surrender to the law. He didn't fight as they took him away, constantly being either bludgened by a gendarme's nightstick or spat upon by some angry past resident from the Opera Populaire.

In the crowd sat his bewildered wife...never had she thought that her dear husband would be taken away from her. She wasn't sure whether to protest at the top of her lungs or fall to her knees and weep, though neither was good for her or the child within her. She watched as he was beaten and belittled. She didn't see the man she had married two years ago. What she saw was the tormented child he had been many years before. This was hardly a fair trial...she was not even questioned about his behavior and given the oppurtunity to speak on his behalf.

"Kiera..." she heard him breath as he fell to the ground from a blow to the back of the head from the butt of a musket.

She immdeiately rose to her feet and rushed to where he lay. "Erik!" Falling upon him, she sheltered him from the gendrarmes aggressive and unnecessary actions; surely they were not cruel enough to beat a pregnant woman.

"Move, Madam," they ordered.

"No," she refused harshly. "I'll not let you hurt him! Has he not endured enough!"

"Why is it you care, Madam?" the judge questioned, stepping down from his pedestal.

"I care because he is my husband and the father of my child."

"And how is it you could wed and bed this...beast? Did you cover his face with a burlap sack." He chuckles, the entire courtroom joining him.

"Love knows no boundaries, your honor. I love this man with all of my heart. We can understand one another better than anyone else can. I guarentee you that not even Madam Antoinette Giry knows as much about him as I. Tell me, Monsieur, do you believe you are bringing justice by putting him to death?" she asked boldly.

"This monster has killed three people in cold blood...of course I am bringing justice," he replied.

"Very well...then why is it that the Comte and Comtess de Chagney are not being sent to the firing squadron along with him? Why aren't all of the gendarmes, the gypsies in that damned travelling fair, the entire jury, and everyone in this world who has ever ridiculed him or someone like him, being sent to the wall to be shot?"

"Madam Mardon, that is not the same as murder. Now, please, allow these gentleman to take that lunatic away."

"No! You'll not take him, and it is exactly the same as murder! You and people like you took any hopes of having a normal life away from him! You murdered the spirit of his childhood! You are the murderers!"

"Kiera..." Erik whispered. "You're going to get yourself into more trouble than you can get out of. Please, for your sake and the baby's."

"I won't let them take you without them knowing our point-of-view!"

"I've heard enough!" the judge orders. "Madam, if you do not stand aside, you will be killed immediately."

"That's fine...the blood of two more people on your hands. Atleast I'll be with my husband. I've done my share of wrongs in my time but there is a thing called forgiveness. I ask for it every day when I go to the chapel...for every unkind word I've said and the day I killed my father." She waited for the gasp the crowd would surely give. Having recieved it, she said, "Yes...I killed my father with his own gun. He had tried many a time to kill me and did kill our neighbor...only because she was protecting me. The lot of you deserve death for what you have done as much as any common criminal!"

BANG!

A rifle was fired and Kiera fell in a pool of blood. Erik scrambled to her side and lifted her head. "Kiera...Kiera, my darling!" he cried as her eyes fluttered open, blood draining from her body at an overhwleming speed; she wouldn't last long. "Why did you do that?"

"How can I live without you? I'll be waiting for you, mon chere." She took one last wragged breath, and her eyes closed as Death wrapped its cold fingers around her heart.

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Kiera

"Kiera!" Erik exclaims, shooting up from bed.

"Erik..." I sit up and take his hands. "Erik, I'm right here." I try to console my terrified fiance.

"Kiera...ma cherie..." he stammers, tears running down his cheeks. "You're alive!"

"Yes." I place my hands on his cheeks, caressing them gently with a smile gracing my lips; I treat him as I would a frightened child...I bring his head to my chest, letting him continue to release his sorrow for the outcome of the nightmare. "Hush, now, mon chere."

"Is everything all right?" Madam Mardon opens the door. "What's going on?" At the sight of Erik, she rushes forward and quickly takes my place. "Mon beau, what is wrong?"

He immediately calms..he's not one for showing such emotion around others. "I'm fine...just a...a...a rather...troubling dream."

"What about?"

"I'd prefer not to discuss it. Afterall, it was a mere dream...nothing to be worried about."

"Madam Mardon? Where are you?" Anna calls in a trembling voice.

"Madam, I believe she is calling for you. Everything is in order here." I usher her out, shutting the door behind her.

"Now, are you all right, Erik?" I take a seat beside him.

"I don't think I'll ever be able to sleep peacefully. My slumber is always disturbed by these bloody nightmares; however, having you here does seem to calm me once I wake, and they're normally far worse than what the latest have been."

"Worse? How in the world did you cope with them at the Opera?"

"Music. After waking, I'd go straight to my organ and play," he answers, pulling me against him. "Speaking of which, would you mind if I went to the Opera to get my mask and change into some better clothes. I'll bring you, Madam, and Anna some new clothes as well."

"Of course I don't mind..." I grab his arm as he stands up. "I'm going with you."

"Kiera...I think it's best if you stay here."

"You aren't going to that God forsaken place alone; it's not safe with the gendarmes out and about thanks to Monsieur Khan's psychopathic rampage." I pull on a pair of flat-bottoms from the closet and wrap a quilt around my shoulders. "No...I won't let you go by yourself."

He laughs quietly. "Fine, but we must leave my mother a note; she might have a fit if she finds us missing without an explanation."

"I must agree." With a scrap of paper and a quill, I scratch out a note for Madam Mardon. "Now, how are we getting out of here?" I look around but Erik's no where to be found. "Erik? Erik!" Panic takes hold of me as I search the room for him.

"The window, dear," I hear him say gently.

I look to the window to find it wide open and Erik's head just bearly visable above the window-sill. "There you are..." I sigh, putting my hand to my chest, trying to calm my rapidly beating heart. "You frightened me."

"I'm sorry; it's just that I found our way out. Come. The climb isn't very far, and the vines give us something to hold on to."

I go to the window and look down...it's about twelve feet down. "Erik..."

Just as I speak his name, he reaches the ground and turns about, looking up at me. "You've nothing to fear. I'll catch you if you fall."

"Very well." I climb over the ledge and begin my descent slowly, testing every place I step. After a few minutes, I feel Erik's hands locate themselves on either side of my waist, guiding me to the ground. "Merci, mon chere."

He smiles and take my hand. "Let's go."

He leads me through the streets, down alleys, around buildings, and past any threatening shadow that lurks in the darkness. Once we are just across the street from the Opera, Erik says, "I'd better go first. There's not much telling who or what may be in the alley. I'll come back for you once I'm certain it's safe." He kisses my hand and hurries to the other side without a sound.

All is quiet for a brief moment; however, the silence is broken by the sound of heavy breathing and a raspy voice. "Well, well, what have we here?" Behind me stands a rather gruff looking man with a beard that seems to be about a month old; he smells awful...like urine and rotten tomatoes. "What's a pretty little thing like you doing in the streets at this hour?"

"Monsieur, you appear to be in desperate need of rest and a bath. I believe you should find your way home." I'm not afraid of this man...he's probably a mere drunk who's lost his way. I walk further up the street to avoid him.

He gives a wicked laugh and follows me, latching onto my wrist with his dirty hand. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Away from you." I yank my hand away. "Be on your way, Monsieur," I order harshly.

"I'm sorry, Mam'selle. I don't take orders from whores." He thrusts himself upon me, knocking me to the ground.

"Get off!" I scream, lashing at his face with my nails. "I'm not a whore!"

"Oh, you're not? My mistake...you will be soon!" He restrains my arms as he tastes the skin of cheek.

"You bastard!" I manage to free one of my arms and scratch his face. He topples over, his hand covering his face, and I get up to run across the street to the Opera...to my protector...to Erik.

"You won't get away that easily, Mam'selle." He tackles me to the ground...I now lie on my stomach...unable to fight back. From the corner of my eye I can see him undoing his trousers quite quickly.

"No! Erik, help me! Help...Someone!" I scream at the top of my lungs.

"No one's going to help you, miss," he laughs, rolling me onto my back. "Now, lie here and be quiet. Things will be so much better if you're silent and don't resist. All I want is to ease this lust of mine, and then I'll let you go on your way." He pushes my night-gown upward.

"Get off of her!" the voice of a highly aggitated man rings out. The roughian atop me is removed by a dark figure standing behind him. "She's not a prostitute!" The figure picks the man up by his collar and thrusts him against the wall of a nearby building. "Now, give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you," the figure growls.

"I...I...I'm sorry, Monsieur," the drunk stammers, shielding his face from the figures.

"Get out of here!" The figure throws him to the ground...away from me. Then, this silhouette moves towards me. In fear, I scoot back to try to escape. "Kiera...cherie, it's me." The voice is now calm and soothing.

"Erik?" I look up at my fiance. "Merci!"