Stolen
Chapter IX: Retour
translation: Return
A/N: Here is the last chapter of 2009, readers! Sorry for the delay, and enjoy! No, I do not own Phantom!
They left promptly the next morning, much to Christine's delight.
Erik had a carriage which he planned on driving himself to Paris. He would have much rather taken a single horse with Christine sitting behind him, but he knew that she would not accept this way of transportation.
So, the two set off by carriage, and a sense of déjà vu hit Christine. A blurry memory of riding in a carriage driven by a cloaked man returned to Christine… that fateful morning in which she had visited her father's grave.
Christine shook off this memory, staring happily ahead of her at the empty road.
She didn't know exactly why she was so excited to see her old home. Perhaps it was just that she had many fond memories of the place, or because of its familiarity. She knew that there weren't any performances running yet, and that she would not be able to see her own friends.
But what she longed for now was to sit in her dressing room in front of the vanity she had used, and to be taken back to her nights of performing as a dancer and singer in the Opera Populaire.
The darkness caused Christine to sway slightly in Erik's binding grasp.
"Christine?" He asked, his voice full of concern.
"Can we leave this passage, please?" She begged, "I would like to see my old dressing room, not the eerie passages to your previous home. This darkness is overwhelming. I can't believe you actually lived here."
Erik chuckled, "Yes, I did live here. And I found a comfort in the darkness, actually."
Christine didn't respond for a moment, contemplating Erik's previous words. She knew exactly why Erik found comfort in this consuming night, and it pained her to think of it.
"Please," She finally broke the silence, "I can't take this."
Erik continued down the passage, instead of turning around, "No. We will continue to my house on the lake."
"Erik," Christine groaned.
He did not slow, but continued walking.
"Fine," Christine spat, "I'll go myself. And don't worry about me running away, Erik. Because we both know that you will find me. I just need to get out of this darkness."
"I wouldn't do that, Christine," Erik warned. He knew that Christine was too stubborn to stay with him, but he would never even think of separating with her now. All he could do was lie, and lie he would…
"You never know what you'll find in this opera house. All I can say is that as a Phantom, I soon found that I was not alone in these catacombs."
Erik almost felt the terror radiating off of her. Despite this, she released herself from his grasp and began walking opposite of Erik.
Just as Erik was about to claim his angel back, a rope was thrust into his mouth, preventing him from speaking. He didn't bother trying to release himself from the pair of hands tying his own hands together. Realization that someone was actually trying to capture The Opera Ghost hit Erik.
He almost laughed out loud.
He let his captor take him to wherever the place of interest may be, not giving a protest. Erik decided that may as well lead the man to think he had a chance of living. But Erik knew that the second he was given the opportunity, he would kill the fool who even tried bantering with him.
Erik found himself in a scarcely visited room, one that required the taking of many secret passages. It surprised him that whoever was trying to capture him actually found this specific room.
A few candles were alight, and two men stood guarding the entrance to the room, their faces stiff and serious. The other man who had led Erik to the room was now standing in front of him, releasing the rope from his mouth. He had a mischievous gleam in his eye that annoyed Erik. Who was this man, and what business did he want with him?
"The reign of the Phantom of The Opera over this opera house ended many months ago," The man began, pacing to one side of the room. Erik began working at the knot that surrounded his hands silently, almost smiling at how easy this would be.
"And yet… you have finally returned." A sly smile crept upon the man's lips as he turned to face Erik. "What do you have to say of this, my friend?"
"I say that I held power over this Opera House once, and I can regain that control again if I choose it," Erik spat venomously.
The man shook his head slowly, almost laughingly.
"Ah, but you cannot. You see, Monsieur Opera Ghost, there has been a… reward, I suppose you could say, floating around Paris for your capture."
Of course Erik knew this; he was not ignorant as the man thought he was.
"And how do you plan on doing that?" Erik scoffed, his hands already free from the knot. Now the rope was not an obstacle against him, but a weapon.
"Well you see, the reward did not specify whether they wanted your body dead or alive…" The man continued his pacing, and then reached into his pocket. He then pulled out a pistol and pointed it directly at Erik.
"… which is why I plan on killing you."
Christine breathed a sigh of relief once she saw the familiar sight of her dressing room door.
She rushed through the door and couldn't help the smile that appeared on her face.
So many memories…
In a sort of daze, Christine sat down in front of her vanity. She carefully removed the sheets that covered it, and then blew the dust away. Her eyes wondered the room, until at last they lingered on the floor length mirror in the corner of the room.
A haunting voice echoed through Christine's memories. Her angel had sang to her a countless amount of times, each note sending chills down her spine and touching her very soul.
Christine closed her eyes and tried returning to the night before her first lead role in Hannibal. She had been so nervous that night, and had burst into tears an hour before the show began, sobbing that she "couldn't do this". If it weren't for the Angel of Music's soothing words, she would not have been able to give the performance she had given.
Before long, Christine began to notice that Erik still had not yet joined her. In a thoughtless act, she slid the mirror that she had once descended into open, and began her search for Erik. Her decision was made – if he didn't bother looking for her then she must take matters into her own hands.
Darkness quickly overtook the light, which also replaced Christine's determination with fear.
"Erik..?" Christine whispered nervously, searching helplessly through the darkness.
"Erik, where did you go?" She tried once again, fear evident in her voice. A terror filled her mind at the moment she realized she really was alone.
Christine squinted, trying to make out any shapes. Her pale skin was the only contrast against the dark that she could plainly see.
Christine stumbled across the brick floors, feeling her way across the wall, searching for anything that meant an escape from the darkness. She felt blind and utterly helpless as she tripped a countless number of times. Where was he? Erik would never leave her so unexpectedly - or at all, for that matter. Could... could something have happened to him?
No, no, of course not. Erik was The Phantom of the Opera for goodness sake! Nothing would ever...
Suddenly, Christine felt something slightly different on the wall - a brick out of place.
And then she was flying.
She was in a different room. The air felt much colder and heavier, sending shivers up Christine's spine. It must have been a secret passage of some kind... a secret passage, or a trap.
Christine froze.
She had heard somebody move.
"Erik?" She practically begged, praying to God that it was only him. Please let it be Erik, just Erik, oh God, let it be Erik...
But the voice that answered her was not his.
"It's nice of you to join me, Miss Daae."
It was pitch black, but by the sound of the produced voice, whoever had spoken was very, very close to Christine.
A candle was suddenly lit, and the first thing Christine saw was a smirking face just inches away from hers.
His grimy teeth were bared, jagged and crooked in their lining. Sweat was caked upon his forehead, and dirt filled the creases in his face. Christine could smell the faint sent of cigar and alcohol as he inhaled and exhaled. But none of these features are what stood out most to her. It out was the odd way that his eyes were colored, a swirling mixture of gray and black. The colors touched, yet did not combine, in a sort of hypnotizing way.
"What do you want from me?" Christine finally demanded, trying to sound brave and fearless, when in reality her voice quavered unevenly.
The man let out a raspy chortle, releasing saliva onto a disgusted Christine's face.
"That is such a broad question," He breathed. "Perhaps the question is; what don't I want from you?"
Christine tried not to let the panic show in her eyes, and focused her vision only on the flickering candle that the man was holding.
She suddenly heard a bunch of ruckus coming from somewhere below her, banging of some sort and screams that she could hardly make out. She looked up in alarm to see that the smile on her captor's face had only grown.
"What's going on down there?" She asked timidly. She then remembered leaving a certain someone alone in the darkness, and her previous fears returned to her.
"Where is he?" She whispered. "What have you done with him?"
The man chuckled once more, and the candle danced along to his foul smelling breath.
"Oh, do not worry about your masked friend. I have some friends of my own that are taking care of him."
It took all of Christine's power not to scream for help or try and run, as she desperately tried to stop the tears from clouding her vision. The orange flame began to become blurrier as she surrendered to the threatening tears.
"Don't cry, dear." The man whispered. "It will all end quickly."
Christine was in sobs now, no longer trying to hold anything in.
I am going to die. Erik is going to die. I am going to die…
The only thing she wished now was that the man would kill her quickly, without anything else to do with her beforehand.
"Christine?"
A familiar voice emerged from behind her.
Shocked, Christine's own voice only came out in a whisper.
"Raoul?"
"Who are you?" The grimy and now confused man inquired importunately. Christine ignored him, still stunned by the fact that Raoul was standing behind her.
"Christine, was this man trying to hurt you?" Raoul demanded, his voice rising in anger as accusations ran through his mind. "What did he do to you?!"
"He didn't do anything, Raoul, not yet at least," Christine answered quickly. Raoul instantly detected the fear that was evident in her voice, and he reached down for her hand, careful to hide it from the strange man that gave off a dangerous vibe.
Christine squeezed Raoul's hand with all she had, the warmth giving her the slightest feeling of safety.
The crooked-toothed man eyed the two of their faces, and then his familiar grin appeared.
"I can see that you, Monsieur," he looked venomously at Raoul, "Are going to be a problem."
As soon as Raoul spotted the gun that the man was removing from his pocket, he began turning Christine around and shoving her out the door that he had luckily left open.
"Go." He commanded, pushing her. "Stay out there, Christine. Do not come in."
After day's worth of searching, he had found her.
And he was not going to lose her to a man with a gun.
Christine did not protest, obeying Raoul's words as quickly as she could. She had never heard his voice so authoritative and solid, and even though she wanted to do anything but leave him, she knew she had to.
She tried to cover her ears once she started hearing the sounds of yelling and pain in the room next to her, but it was no use. Tears flowed down her cheeks and she tried to cover the terrifying noises from beside her with a helpless, hysteric humming that was mingled with sobs.
At last, she heard a gunshot.
Christine could not stop the black that began to seep in front of her eyes, finally losing the fight against unconsciousness.
A/N: And, dear readers, I must leave it off there. I am sorry for the cliffhanger and the delay for this chapter. Hopefully the next one will be up soon! Thanks for reading, and please remember to review! ^_^
