A/n I had a few Private messages asking about the plague and how it was possible that so many died as I described in the first chapter. I modeled the plague after the Bubonic plague..AKA the Black Death. It killed a 3rd of Europe's' population something like 34 million people in the span of 4 years. The last break out of this plague was in the 1700's. it still exists today but is very isolated…..I also added a few Ebola (aka Blood plague) symptoms. Ebola is a plague in Africa that has an 80 percentdeath rate within a week of infection. This plague started in the 70's and there is still wide yet rare outbreaks today.
Okay enough of the biology lecture egads, (blame my bio teacher who had a fascination with these kinds of things)
'huggles all my reviews.' love you guys :)
p.s.- there is a bit of history in here for Erik. For any book fan, yes I know its' backwards but this is AU :)
Disclaimer: I don't own POTO
Where we last left off...
" I'll, … um.. just dart into the trees over there." Christine started off to a little grove of trees that grew on the edge of the road.
"Daroga shall accompany you."
Christine wheeled around, "What!"
Chapter 4.
'That stubborn, insufferable…man!'
And to think she was thinking about being polite to him. Christine scowled as she shot a look over her shoulder at the ebony skinned man who trailed a few yards behind her. He had been polite enough to introduce himself as Erik dismissed her to take care of her business. Humility burned at her face.
'Look at me... trooping though the trees wearing nothing but my shift and a cape with a stranger.'
Christine figured that she had better stop somewhere before she walked out the other side of the grove. She looked around, the forest floor was carpeted with fall leaves. Some trees held tight to their red and brown leaves, but most had dropped them already. Christine stopped and stole another look over her shoulder. Daroga, seeing that she wasn't going to walk any further, turned on his heel and clasped his hands behind his back.
When she was finished with reliving herself, Christine trooped back over to Darogas' side. They both walked back to the buggy in silence. But for young Christine, curiosity got the better of her.
"How can you stand that man?" she blurted out.
Daroga turned his head and looked down at her, an eyebrow raised. "You mean Erik?" She nodded. "Well." His voice was booming and deep. "I don't stand him, Miss Daae, I just get along."
Christine looked up at him. "What is the difference?"
"One is forced, the other is not." Was all he said.
'He speaks in riddles' Christine wrapped the cape tighter around her. The late afternoon chill was already settling around them. "Why does he wear that god-awful mask for?"
"I can not speak of that Miss Daae." Came his curt reply.
"Why not?"
"Because Miss Daae, I value my life."
They broke though the trees then, and Christine paused. She watched Erik run his gloved hands over one of the horses; checking its legs for hurts and the rigging for wear. He soothed the animals as he did so, talking to them softly in that hypnotizing musical voice of his. The scene was ruined though when Daroga cleared his throat, announcing their arrival.
…… . .
Erik looked up from the horses and quickly strode over to them. He nodded a swift curt nod to Daroga and the servant went off to finish looking over the horses and buggy. He quickly took Christine by the hand again and led her back to the buggy and inside it once more. He then turned to his servant before stepping inside himself.
"Daroga."
"Yes Monsieur?"
"We need to make it home before it gets dark and too cold for the girl. Hurry, but don't push the horses too hard. Understood?"
"Yes Monsieur." The man climbed back into his drivers' seat and took up the reins.
……. . .
Erik watched in amused silence as Christine tore into the meal he had given her. It was a simple travelers' meal, bread, fruit and wine. Christine had turned down the drink but dove into the fruit. The poor girl was starved, so he was not surprise to see her attack the food and throw away all etiquette.
'Eat Angel... you'll need your strength.'
"Christine…"
The girl looked up from her meal and spoke around her full mouth. "Um, yes?"
His lips twitched in a smile. 'cute'
"I just wanted to let you know that, as strange as everything seems, you are going to be well taken care of." He watched as she swallowed her food and cast him a wary glance. "I know it was never the best way to go about retrieving you, but we are in a hurry. I refused to let you be exposed to such danger a moment longer. I made a silent promise to explain everything to you. So, do you have any questions?"
Christines' eyes flashed anger before she visibly calmed herself. "I do have questions. Many of them in fact."
"Please then, Ask. I will try to answer them all."
Christine put the rest of her meal away. Suddenly no longer hungry. "Alright, who are you? How do you know my name? And how did you know where to find me?"
'Gets right to the point, as always.' Erik finished off the bit of wine that he had taken for himself and set the glass back in the basket that he got it from. "I use to live in the Opera House."
"You did?…I don't remember ever seeing you there. Even without that mask I think I would have been able to recognize you."
He waved his hand to stop her from speaking further. "You never saw me my Dear, but I did see you, and often. I lived under the Opera House. Secretly." Christen had a confused look oh her face so he continued. "I lived in the Opera from the time I was a child, when Madame Giry helped me escape a cruel and horrible life. I taught myself from the books she brought me. When I was old enough I traveled out of France. I settled in Persia where I became a contractor and helped build a palace for Shah, the sultan at the time."
"Is a sultan important?" Christine curled under the cape, suddenly cold. Yet she was too entranced by the story.
"Yes." Erik continued. "Like a king." Christen nodded in understanding. "I helped design a virtual labyrinth of secret passages ways and trap doors for him. After the palace was finished, the Sultan wanted all of my workers and I killed so we couldn't leak information about the secrets of his palace."
"He wanted to have them all killed?" 'What a spoiled man'
"Yes, and it was understandable. I escaped of course, with help from Daroga. All my men though, were killed. Well, after that I traveled to Constantinople where I became a bit of an architect. Of course I built many secrets for the sultan there. I had learned my lesson and left before anyone could order us killed. After that, I returned to France, to my Opera House. Much wiser, stronger, and cautious than when I left." He slowly turned his head to gaze at Christine who was watching him with eyes wide with wonder. "Then I saw you my dear Christine."
Christine blushed lightly and turned away, choosing to snuggle deeper under the cape. "You s-saw me?" she whispered.
"Oui Christine." His voice dropped a whole octave, it rumbled deep in the chest and throat. "The sad little child whose' father had just died. You wept when you thought no one was looking." He watched Christine shift a bit on the seat, a bit uncomfortable at his knowing of such things. "I knew you to be great Christine. I could turn you into the Opera star…I could take those tears away."
…… . .
Christine froze. The answer jumped in her throat so fast she blurted it out without thinking. "My tutor, you're my singing tutor." Erik nodded solemnly and Christine all but trembled in anger, her hands balled into fists. "No! my tutor is a kind angle that my father sent from heaven to teach me. He always said he would send the Angel of music to me. You are not him!" She beat at her thighs with her fists, tears already forming in her eyes again.
"Christine…" Erik started softly; he rubbed at the bare side of his forehead. "I'm sorry if I'm not the image you created."
"No." She interrupted. "I refuse to believe that."
Eriks' eyes narrowed into a cold glare. "Believe what you wish Christine, it will not change the truth. What you say, is just the daydreams of a lost confused little girl. You are not a little girl anymore Christine. Look at you." He sat stone still, refusing to move, refusing to touch her and refusing to let any emotion filter to his eyes.
Christine gazed down at herself. She was in her underwear. Her shift was covered in filth. She knew she stank of death and must look like death as well. But he was right. She was not a child any longer.
A/n bit of a boring chapter. Grrr.. but one that had to be done. I'm a review addict so please feed my habit. :) thanks for reading.