Hey guys! Sorry for the wait...I had a service trip and I worked really hard to make it looooonger. Many thanks to those who have kept checking on my ficcy -- and thanks to Nita195 for making it a fav! Thanks for waiting, and enjoy Chapter Two!

Chapter Two

Small anomalies of light pulsated on the back of his eyelids as he slowly regained consciousness. He could hear the beating of his heart, and feel the pain and pressure on various points of his body. Groaning with the seemingly undiagnosed pains, Gérard blinked his eyes slowly open before hurriedly closing them again. The world was not worth seeing if all you saw was a whirlpool of colors. Feeling a strange safeness of being, the boy felt content to simply try and remember how his limbs were so brutally injured. Suddenly, Gérard heard voices from what he imagined to be a hall, and two sets of feet running along them. The voices, as he cared to identify, were that of a man and woman; older than himself, but not of the aging generations. A sort of haze fell over the conversation; even though the youth was not quite at the pinnacle of alertness, he could easily tell that the woman was distressed, and that the man meant to calm her.

As the footsteps approached the place where he was at rest, they suddenly stopped. The racing talk continued, and this time Gérard could make out a few of the words.

"Not crazy--I'm fine!"

"Boy--window--sent by--ghost!"

Feeling much better indeed at this reference to him, the boy sat up, rubbing his eyes and willing them to operate in a more useful fashion. The door unexpectedly opened with a loud creak as the two figures came into the room. To maintain a low profile, Gérard hurriedly resumed his position of respite. Silence filled the room as the boy's muscles tensed. Had they seen him? What were they going to do? Were they evil? The male voice then continued with a few steps taken across the room.

"Christine, I'm worried about you. No one in the company knows who this boy is, and he very well could have been sent by you know who to spy for his next plan. I have talked to the townsfolk; they say that his parents are recently deceased."

Grief hit him as if it were a draft horse. His parents...dead. The only family he had for miles and miles...dissolved. He felt the bed being depressed as one of the two sat on the foot of it. Gérard resolved that this must be the Christine that the male voice spoke of, for light, sweet tones then flowed about the room.

"He is only an innocent boy. You and I both know, Raoul, that some of the townsfolk have not taken kindly to the arrival of the Opéra Populaire in Mamelonné. Perhaps he just decided to find out what was going on here."

Gérard would have felt like crying out his bottomless grief to them, but restrained himself as Christine continued after the absence of an answer.

"I mean to take care of him until his wounds heal...perhaps, since he is now orphaned, we could keep him here to live in the opera house. I certainly would not mind."

Gérard felt a delicate hand on his shoulder as she murmured, "Yes, I will take you in. Maybe you know something we do not."

Her warm hand remained for a few moments before the depression on the bed lifted and both Christine and Raoul left the room. Feeling hot tears well up in his eyes in spite of himself, Gérard began to sob. His body crumpled into a fetal position as he attempted to console himself with the thoughts of Christine taking care of him. She sounded very nice from what he had heard, she couldn't be evil. Christine might even be the belle from the window.

Thinking of Christine, Gérard's sobs subsided into silent weeping, then minor sniffles. Now that his parents were...what they were, maybe the woman could teach him in the ways of academics. He wanted so much to be smart; to avoid the laughs of the scholars in the tavern as they passed through the town. A new life in the opera house, he concluded, could be the best thing for him. It sounded like an adventurous and exciting life to lead.

The youth sat up from his childish pose, scolding himself. He was thirteen, for god's sake! He should not be encased in such a position. Stretching to relieve the cramping pains that added to his other bruises, Gérard took up a new position, hugging his knees tightly and drawing trembling breaths. His parents couldn't be safer. They were with the Lord, after all. He would treat them with kindness, and they wouldn't have to suffer from their disease anymore. Thoughts of two happy, healthy parents continuously lifted his spirits as he walked to a cushioned window seat. Gazing at the soft light of the few stars that had begun to shine in the twilight, the boy stared wistfully at the rooftops of the town. Finally smiling after a half day of crying, Gérard couldn't be more hopeful for the future. Author's Take As Gérard is not very intelligent, grief comes and goes swiftly. The imaginations of non-intellectuals often help.

A charge shot through his nerves as the door quietly opened. The young woman from the "night of the tree" had appeared in the doorway, carrying a tray laden with a bowl of steaming soup. She looked surprised to find him where he was, and smiled sweetly before acknowledging him.

"Oh! You are awake! I had come to take my supper in my room, but you may have it, of course. My name is Christine."

Her name...the way it rolled off of her lips...it sounded like a thousand angels in chorus. A light color graced his cheeks as he gulped and spoke sheepishly.

"Th-thank you, Miss, Miss Christine. I'm much obliged, really I am. My name's Gérard."

Trying not to snatch the tray too fast, the youth began to eat the warm soup in a sloppy manner. He felt so very hungry; perhaps he had slept for longer than he had originally anticipated. Christine sat on the bed beside him, staring out the window with a vacant look in her eyes. The soup was gone in a matter of minutes, and Gérard, ashamed from eating so rudely in her presence, shyly looked up from his meal to find a pallid color overtaking the facade of Christine. Keeping her eyes fixated on whatever was frightening her, she slowly got up from the bed and stepped backwards, bringing a hand to her mouth. Gérard, shaking slightly at the depth of her expression, put his tray aside, wanting to look behind him but trying immensely hard not to for fear of what he may see.

After a few moments, Christine sank slowly to the floor, keeping her hand over her mouth, her eyes fiercely darting from side to side. The boy slipped off the bed and sat in front of her, twiddling his thumbs for lack of words. Her face was so...mortally terrified...he couldn't think of anything to say. He imagined that her face matched his when he first heard the talk of his parents outside of the room. Wincing in a tsunami of sudden, forgotten grief, he chose some of the words from his intermediate vocabulary.

"Christine? What...what was it that made you look so...so..."

Once again, he was lost for words as the young woman moved her head to the side, allowing some of her rigor to subside.

"It was only the beauty...the beauty of the sunset, dear Gérard. Do not be frightened."

She picked herself up from the ground, brushing off the dust that had been blown up by her sweeping petticoats. Christine offered her companion a hand; he took it and took a higher position with her.

"I must go now. Forgive me for leaving so soon...I have...friends I must speak with. I shall return...shortly."

With these rather demure words, the mistress turned about and left the room promptly, closing the door behind her without looking back at the youth. Contorting his face in an utterly disconcerted manner, Gérard sat down on the cot once more.

It must have been one hell of a sunset.

-lets it sink in-

-lets it sink in more-

BAHA! Don't fall off the cliff. :P -- Do click the button down there. Pwease? -gives out m00fins-

NOTE ONE: I did name Gérard after the actor who played the Phantom, Gérard Butler.

NOTE TWO: A love subplot between Christine and Gérard, if it even exists, will definitely be one-sided as this fic is ExC. Obviously, Gérry already has a crush. :P