Christine's POV

I stepped out of the carriage, Raoul behind me.

"Now," he said. "You are going in the opera and to his home by yourself. If you need anything, or if he isn't there, I'll be speaking with Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur Andre."

I nodded my conformation, sprinting up the stone steps of the Opera Populaire.

It felt good to be back. I'd missed the opera while I'd been with Raoul, and returning made it feel like I'd never left. Of course, with Erik on my mind, I knew that wasn't the case.

Raoul came with me, turning down a different hallway than me to find the owners. I suspected he wanted to speak with them about Erik. Still, I said nothing.

I followed the familiar path to my old dressing room, the only entrance to his home I knew the route of.

The familiar scent of roses washed over me as I opened the door. It reminded me of Erik, which made me walk faster.

I pulled open the mirror and stepped inside the secret corridor. Almost immediately, the candelabras lining the walls flared to life. Did he know I was here?

I stepped down the cobblestone hallway, unsure of my steps. What if he wasn't in his home when I arrived? Out shopping, maybe? Or… permanently gone, no thanks to me? I had never thought of what my departure might have caused him. Maybe he was haunting a new opera now, and I was wasting my time.

Way to be positive, Christine, I thought. Don't think about that. If he's not there, he's obviously running errands, and he'll be back soon. Don't think negative, Christine.

Still, Raoul's 'comforting' words echoed in my mind.

Or if he isn't there.

If he isn't there.

He isn't there.

But I couldn't think that. I wouldn't think that. That thought wasn't allowed. It simply wasn't allowed.

~0~0~0~0~0~

Erik's POV

The three hour train ride from la Garde seemed to last a century, as if the tracks were covered in molasses. But, believe it or not, the train eventually pulled into the gare de la Paris.

When I arrived, I thought about who the Vicomte and Christine could possibly be visiting. Madame Giry and Meg? Some of the Vicomte's family? Surely not me, as much as I could hope she would. The Vicomte would never allow it.

I visited Madame Giry first, the most likely subject.

"Madame Giry?" I asked, knocking on their apartment door. "Meg?"

Meg answered the door.

"H-hello, monsieur," she said quietly.

"Is your mother home?" I asked.

"Right here, Erik," Madame Giry answered for Meg, standing in the parlor. "Come in."

"Madame Giry," I asked. "Have you seen… her lately?"

"Christine?" she asked.

I flinched at mon amour's name.

"Sorry," she said. "No, I have not, but I hear she is in town."

"I know," I said softly. "I just don't know where."

I looked at Meg expectantly, as she had answered my questions before. She shook her head.

"I have not heard from her for a while," she said, an apologetic look on her face. "But if I do, I will tell you."

I nodded, heading for the door.

"Won't you stay for supper?" Madame Giry asked. Meg looked away quickly, but I caught a look of exasperation and fear in her eyes, probably thanks to me.

"No, thank you," I said. "I have the Vicomte's fiancé to look for."

I didn't see Meg's expression as I left, but I was certain she looked relieved.