Just a little note from me: In every chapter, another piece of the truth will be revealed. And as the story progresses, you guys will see how everything links together, and the whole truth will become clear.

Long Live Phantom!

Chapter Four: (The Lake) Part Two

July 24, 1860

Dear Angel of Music,

I'm still waiting for you. Oh, Angel, I did something very terrible today.

I was supposed to wipe the floors alongside Mary Catherine but I accidentally put too much soap in the water. Sister Monica came to see how we were doing and if we were wiping the floor properly.

Because of the soap, the floor was very slippery and she slipped. She just fell, hitting the bucket of soapy water with her legs. She slid on the floor and the bucket flew and hit Sister Margarita squarely in the face, drenching her! Sister Monica twisted her ankle because of the fall and Sister Margarita's forehead is swollen.

Oh, Angel, it's all my fault.

Sister Luisa said that ever since I came to the convent they haven't known a day of peace. I have been very naughty. I was sent to my room for the remainder of the day, along with Mary Catherine. I tried to tell them that it wasn't her fault, but…

I miss you, Angel, and I feel very lonely sometimes. Please come to me. Please.

Lovingly,

Christine Daee

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"There's a girl over there," Christine said as she slightly turned, pointing in the direction of the lake with one hand, while holding the cloak steadfastly in place with her other. "She's hurt and I - I don't know what to do," Christine continued frantically. Without realizing it, she took Erik's hand and started tugging on it urgently, looking at him, Ned, Phillipe, then back to Erik.

"Please, she needs help. You must help her!" she pleaded.

Ned and Phillipe looked suspiciously in the direction that Christine had pointed, waiting for Erik's decision, while Erik's gaze remained glued to hers. He could feel her small hand trembling slightly as it tugged on his, and he could see the fear and hesitation in her eyes.

"Very well. Let's go see what we can do," he replied against his better judgment, knowing full well that even if they could do something to help the woman that Christine claimed to have found, they wouldn't have enough time nor could they afford to be hindered by taking a wounded person with them.

But for some reason, at the moment, all Erik found himself caring about was soothing Christine.

She led them toward the lake, then toward the tall bushes on the far side, all the time holding Erik's hand tightly.

Standing before the tall bushes, Christine took a deep breath as she looked up at Erik's calm gaze and whispered, "Here, behind these bushes."

She leaned forward to part the bushes and walk through but Erik gently tugged on her hand, pulling her back to him.

At that moment, Christine realized with a new surge of mortification that she had been clutching Erik's hand all the way. She suddenly tried to pull away as if she had just discovered that she was touching fire, but Erik's grip tightened on her hand. When Christine dared to look into his eyes again, she couldn't look away.

They were standing so close, their bodies almost touching; Christine's breath caught in her chest.

For a few moments, they just stood there, their gazes locked to each other. Christine's eyes were wide, filled with a mixture of emotions while Erik's eyes remained calm.

"Phillipe, Ned, do have a look at the woman and tell me how hurt she is," Erik ordered, all the while his gaze never leaving Christine's, who stood breathlessly close.

Ned and Phillipe proceeded.

"Christine," Erik then said calmly, "I suggest you get dressed while we see what we can do."

Christine blushed fiercely. Erik had easily known what cards to play, to get her away from the scene without any argument. She nodded hastily as Erik's grip on her hand lessened.

Without waiting for him to free her hand completely, she quickly pulled it away from his and turned around, almost running toward where she had left her clothes.

Erik watched her until she disappeared on the other side, before turning to where Ned and Phillipe had gone. He walked through the bushes and stopped at the sight of the battered woman.

"What have we got here?" Erik asked, more to himself than anyone else as he looked down keenly at the wounded woman.

"She's almost dead," Phillipe replied.

He was standing opposite Erik, while Ned was crouched beside her, his fingers pressed to her neck to see if there was any pulse.

Ned continued clinically, "Her pulse is very weak. It's a miracle that she's survived this long."

And after a moment, Ned went on, with disgust in his voice at the people who had done this to this woman, "Someone definitely had intended to leave her here for dead."

"Someone tried to strangle her," Erik hissed as soon as his gaze fell on her neck.

Both Ned and Phillipe looked at Erik as Erik knelt down on one leg and pointed toward the black marks along her neck.

A minute of intense silence passed by, a silence disturbed only by the whispering wind, and the rattling of the leaves.

"We have to help her," Ned stated, at last.

Phillipe slowly nodded in agreement.

"We have to kill her," Erik replied chillingly, causing both Phillipe and Ned to gape openly at him.

"No," Ned answered firmly.

Erik sighed. His eyes blazing and his patience wearing thin.

He looked at Ned and replied in a clipped voice, "You know, Ned, I am getting tired of your damnable conscience. Look at her. She is as good as dead. We don't have the necessary means to help her. We can't do anything. If we move her, we will only prolong her suffering. Nor can we afford to take her with us. She will only slow us down. There is no other way."

Erik's voice took on a harder edge as he continued warningly, "And this is the last time I explain myself to you, Ned."

"There always is a way," Ned replied stubbornly.

Phillipe crossed his arms across his chest. He was the only one who had remained standing. He looked at Ned.

"As much as I hate to admit it, Erik is right. Just look at her. She's almost dead now. Her wounds are fatal and God only knows what wounds are hidden beneath her clothing. We can't do anything to help her," Phillipe said in a resigned tone.

"If you don't help her, I will not cooperate with you any more," came a firm voice from behind Erik. Both Ned and Phillipe looked with bewilderment at Christine.

Erik gracefully rose up, and turned to look upon Christine, fully dressed, her eyes filled with fury and fear, as she continued bravely, "If you leave her here, I will stay with her."

"Do not make threats you can not carry out," Erik replied with deadly calm, his gaze hard on hers, causing her to shrink back as a chill crept up her spine.

"You are not my angel," Christine suddenly blurted out before she could stop herself. Her lower lip began to tremble and Erik could see the tears shimmering in her eyes. She was wringing her hands, as she continued accusingly, the hurt and anger evident in her voice, "You are a horrible, cruel man. Why did you save me from the fire if you were only going to torment me more? I have had the worst twenty-four hours of my life. You leave me in the dark, you don't tell me anything and all I can do is worry. I know that Mary Catherine and the others are dead. And I know that I am as good as dead as well. So let's get it over with and end this facade here and now." She took a deep breath, and went on strongly: "If you're going to kill an innocent woman, why not kill two?"

Christine was trembling visibly now. She had just defied him. She could hardly believe it. That notion itself brought such confidence and strength to her otherwise completely shattered being. She knew, she had to concentrate on her anger, not her fear.

Erik was observing her keenly. He usually did not explain himself to anyone. He knew that if they were to take the wounded woman with them, she would only hinder them, causing them to waste precious time with enemies on their heels. His primary concern was Christine's safety, and he couldn't afford to risk that for the sake of an already barely alive woman. Not to mention that he highly doubted the woman would survive till they had reached an inn.

Erik thought with his mind; he was a practical man. Emotions did not have a place in his heart but Christine seemed to be ruled by them.

"You are right, Mademoiselle Daee. I am a horrible and cruel man," Erik replied coolly, causing her to be further infuriated, afraid, and flabbergasted.

He turned his chilling gaze from hers to Phillipe's, as he continued dismissively, "Phillipe, do escort Mademoiselle Daee back to the clearing."

Phillipe started towards her, before Christine cried out.

"No!" she almost screamed, and Phillipe halted in place.

Her chest was heaving, and her hands had turned to fists at her sides, in an attempt to calm her raging emotions.

She looked down at her feet for a moment, then glanced back up at Erik, her posture strong and determined, although her eyes were swimming with tears.

"Please. Please help her. I couldn't help Mary Catherine… but I can help… we can help this woman… please." Christine said pleadingly, her shaking voice, and flowing tears, betraying her strong, brave front. Her hands were clasped together, as if she were praying…begging…

Erik's breath caught in his chest. Looking at her tearstained cheeks and her pleading eyes, Erik cursed inwardly. He was getting soft, too soft.

After a few moments of complete silence, he snapped, disgusted with himself, "Ned, you wanted to save her, you will carry her on your gelding. She will remain with you."

Ned nodded.

"Thank you!" Christine replied wholeheartedly, as a smile shone through her tears.

Without thinking, she flew into his arms, throwing her arms around his waist and burying her face in his chest.

Erik's entire body went rigid. For a few moments he couldn't even breathe. No one had ever willingly shown him any affection and here she was, this innocent, clinging to him so trustingly.

After a few moments, Erik gently pried her arms from around his waist, pulling her away from him, and holding her at arm's length. He cleared his throat before he spoke.

"Let's move," Erik ordered, successfully managing to keep his expression indifferent and cold, as he motioned for Christine to walk toward the clearing, where the horses, and lunch awaited. She turned around and started walking by her side, silently berating herself for her rash actions. She should have never thrown herself into his arms like that, Christine thought with embarrassment and apprehension.

Ned gently lifted the battered woman in his arms, cradling her head on his chest. As he stood, Phillipe frowned. His eyes had spied something inscribed on her arm. Someone had carved the letters 'LC' into her arm.

Phillipe was a man rarely caught off guard. He always knew what he expected and he always planned ahead, but now he found himself reeling as the realization struck him full force. Ned continued to walk seemingly oblivious to Phillipe's discovery.

"Erik!" Phillipe called out. "You had better come and see this!"

Ned stopped dead in his tracks as he tilted his head to the side to look at Phillipe curiously. Both Christine and Erik stopped walking and turned around. With two paces, Erik was looking in the direction Phillipe was pointing at, to the girl in Ned's arms. Christine followed Erik and was by his side in a moment.

Ned was looking down at the battered woman as well.

"I don't see anything specific," Ned replied with exasperation, throwing Phillipe an annoyed look.

"Here," Erik replied, holding out the girl's arm.

"LC," Ned read without any realization, before it him with full force as well. "What the hell!" he spat.

Christine flinched at the curse. Her stomach was in knots. What did "LC" mean and why were they all suddenly enraged?

"Wh - what does it mean?" Christine asked breathlessly.

"It means, 'Living Corpse'," Erik replied offhandedly, his gaze fixed on the battered woman, studying her for any other signs for a few moments.

Christine shuddered visibly. This was a nightmare, she thought, a very awful nightmare and she just wanted to wake up. Erik's firm grip on her hand, jerked her out of her thoughts, as he took hold of her hand and dragged her behind him, his pace fast.

Christine's mind was reeling with all the possible explanations.

Throwing a swift glance behind his shoulder, Erik ordered angrily, "We have to get out of here at once. They know."

Ned walked as fast as he could toward the horses as did Phillipe.

By the time they reached the clearing, Christine was out of breath. Erik quickly put the lunch food that Christine was supposed to have eaten in a sack and in the satchel on the side of Cesar's saddle.

Ned transferred the battered woman to Phillipe's arms so he could mount his horse. Once mounted, he leaned to the side, and gently gathered her again into his arms, placing her in his lap. One arm held her tight to him around her waist, the other hand held the reins.

Erik swung up onto his horse, and lifted Christine up into his lap as well. Phillipe mounted his horse as well.

"Please tell me what's going on? Who did this to that poor woman? And why were those letters inscribed into her arm?" Christine asked and yet somehow she didn't know if she wanted to hear the answer.

"It was a message to me," Erik spat menacingly.

Christine shivered; she had never seen such a deadly look in his eyes before.

She closed her eyes as the horses started into a full gallop across the endless forest, and the wind began to whip through her damp hair.

After a few moments, when she had gathered her wits again, she opened her eyes and looked up into Erik's expressionless, deadly eyes - those eyes.

"And how do I fit into all this?" she softly asked, her voice barely audible as if she were dreading the answer.

Erik's eyes met hers for a moment, before he brought them up to look at the road ahead. He didn't reply but Christine persisted.

"I heard you talking and I know that you're leaving France and you want to take me with you," her voice slightly wavered at that notion before she continued, "Could you at least tell me where we are?"

"The lake you bathed in is Lake Rhone. We are in the Alps. In a few days we should be in Italy," Erik replied patiently.

"Now stop talking. Sit quietly and don't make a sound," he ordered, after a few moments.

Christine bit her lower lip, trying not to cry all over again.

On his horse, Ned felt a slight movement and glanced down at the woman who was being cradled in his arms. She had opened her eyes and was looking at him. She was dazed and disoriented, and her gaze was unfocused; her eyes were the most beautiful violet he had ever seen. They were so dark that they seemed almost black.

"Wh - who?" she was barely able to ask.

Her lips were chapped and colorless, and her face was so pale. Ned spoke softly.

"I'm Ned Sinclair. You're safe now, miss - " Ned fell silent, waiting for her to answer his hanging question concerning her name.

"Meg…Marguerite Giry," she rasped breathlessly, trying to say something more but couldn't. The effort was too much for her and she fell asleep again in his arms. Ned watched her sleeping form in his arms, for a moment, before looking back, on ahead.

Soon they would reach the inn. Erik knew that it was only a few more hours. He glanced down at Christine for a moment. Her eyes were closed but he knew that she wasn't asleep.

Christine was quietly trying to relax and calm down.

For a few moments, Erik couldn't help but think about the irony of fate. Here he was, holding Christine Daee in his arms, so protectively… here she trusted him with her life. And in his thoughts he wondered, would she have still called him 'angel'…would she have still smiled so innocently and trustingly at him…would she still have flown into his arms, to hold him in a heartfelt embrace, had she known that eleven years ago, he had been the one sent to kill her father, Gustav Daee… He already knew the answer…