Eeeeekkkkk I know it's been forever... and I am very very sorry. If you want, I'm sure I can come up with plenty of excuses, but I really doubt you'd want to hear them. But most importantly, this will never ever happen again.
As it has been so long (and because I nearly forgot what happened), I have a brief summary of things that have taken place in the last bit of time!
This Past Chapter:
-Christine is trapped in a bathtub, because sometimes that happens.
-Erik is looking all over for Christine, except the bathroom. He's freaking out because he thinks she left him, but in reality she's having a seizure/fit/episode partially induced by the poison dart she got hit with.
-Madame Giry and Meg wonder where Christine has gotten to, and explore her room where they find a rose with a black ribbon. Madame Giry understands the significance.
-Madame Giry has abandoned her lunch plans with Meg to go exploring the basements of the Opera House for a chat with our resident ghost.
-Meg saw where she went, and is attempting to get in too.
-Raoul be spyin' on Meg trying to get in from the back row.
The Story as a Whole
-Christine goes to the opera house, where she is taken in under the Phantom's orders.
-Erik teaches her from behind the mirror in her new room.
-Phillippe has a gambling problem so the De Chagnys owe lots of money to a bad man.
-Erik overhears Christine describing her secret admirer (Erik) to Meg, but as she has no idea what he looks like, he believes she is describing someone else. His heart is broken.
-Christine goes hunting for Erik and gets hit by a poison dart.
-Erik takes her back and tries to fix her; she wakes up, and after saving Sir Marque from rats, she takes a bath.
If this still isn't ringing any bells, maybe it'd be easier to skim a chapter or two and see if that seems familiar. I have ALSO updated the prologue. It's quite different now. I always intended for it to come out that way, but I kinda never got around to it.
I swear I'll stop babbling now.
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Chapter 10
Unmentioned
Raoul stared up towards Box 5 from the back of the theater.
The Giry girl had been doing some kind of strange dance around one of the posts in the box... he would never get over her lunacy. Not only did she jump around while she moved, she also poked and slapped the wall repeatedly for some strange reason... ah, those opera types. A simple bunch of tarts that would never get over the fact that their "art" was really nothing to take pride in -in fact, Raoul frequently slept through the performances in his rather comfortable chair; he really only came to make an appearance in the social sphere to show his continued influence and patronage of the opera house, which always brought in more tickets. Then of course, there were the benefits of the actresses and singers themselves...
Raoul absentmindedly stroked his forearm, where a rather prominent scar was hidden under his dress shirt. He'd had many fond memories over the years from the girls at this place, but not all of them had been pleasant. He had retreated from the world of whoring around with the crew for quite some time; he had only picked up his activities again in the past year or two. She had changed everything.
Closing his eyes, Raoul pictured her swaying hips as she nimbly leaped across the stage, her hair swirling around her head while she pirouetted.
La Sorelli...
She had been such a promising dancer, and in all of his years at the opera house, she had been the only one whose movements caused him to appreciate the beauty and grace with which the dancers held themselves. So, naturally, she had to be his. And his she was...
He had approached her back then, when he was fifteen or sixteen. She resisted his advances at first, and it took several weeks of coaxing before she finally gave into him. Raoul hadn't been used to that: most dancers simply fell into his arms, convinced that they were the one, the one to marry Raoul de Chagny...
But La Sorelli had never been like that. She understood from the beginning that they couldn't marry without Raoul giving up his title, or some special favor from the king, and THAT wasn't likely to happen anytime soon.
She did it because she cared for him, and he cared for her just as much, if not more.
They had spent a few months together before she made a sharp turn. She started getting angrier and angrier at him, and that's when the fighting began.
It would start with a simple comment, just something any de Chagny would say, and the next second she would be screaming at him about all manners of things. From gambling, to helping the poor, to being born with ridiculous privileges, to actually working, the list went on and on.
Raoul's suspicions told him that it had to do with La Sorelli insisting he teach her how to read at the beginning of their relationship, and then moving on to read Les Miserables, which in Raoul's opinion was a low down and dirty kind of book criticizing the rich for problems the meaner sort of people created for themselves.
Simply ridiculous!
Their fights grew larger and longer, and eventually began to become violent. Amidst one fight, she was brazen enough to grab a large poker from the fireplace and slash him with it, leaving him with a bright white burn scar that spread the entire length of his forearm.
She began to grow paranoid, and would frequently jump at any unexpected noise, and always would lock her apartment door from the inside after he left. And anytime Philippe was around, she would tremble in fear...
Of course, all this had to be put down to her pregnancy. They didn't notice for the first two or three months, but soon it became obvious that she was expecting. She could only hide her bump under her tutu for so long...
After she could no longer conceal the fact that she was pregnant, the managers fired her on the spot. All of her years at the opera house, all of her practice and time she spent perfecting her twirls and leaps was all flushed down the drain.
So, out of the goodness of his heart, Raoul took her on as his mistress, and let her live at the de Chagny mansion, waiting for their child to be born.
In the months preceding the birth, Phillippe was always cordial to her. They made polite small talk, but every time that Phillippe appeared, La Sorelli would clutch Raoul's arm tighter and stiffen. Even more so when Phillippe's creditors were around.
Again, Raoul passed it off as pregnancy complications.
Then their son had been born, a beautiful little boy with round rosy cheeks and a mop of blond hair. He always appeared to be a smiling, bouncing child. Whenever Raoul was home, his son would follow him around and poke his nose into all of Raoul's business, curious as to everything that the world had to offer.
About a year after his birth, Raoul came home one day to find Phillippe arguing with La Sorelli. She seemed to be trying to exit the dispute as peacefully as possible, insisting she knew nothing of the matters he spoke on, but Phillippe continued harassing her. Raoul had only heard a few seconds of their argument, but the word "money" and Phillippe's tone told him things were about to take a turn for the worse. He stepped from the shadows, startling the pair. La Sorelli sprinted away and Philippe turned on him.
Raoul had never seen his brother in such a state. No, not after nights out gambling, days spent drinking, or time spent at week-long parties had Phillippe ever looked so bad. Whatever the two had been arguing about clearly had him stressed to his limits.
His clothes were disheveled and there was blood dripping from his lip. His breaths came in short pants, while his whole body heaved with the effort this simple action took. His eyes were bloodshot, and dark bags hung below them.
Turning on his heel, Philippe sprinted out of the room.
The drinking increased dramatically, the gambling debts soared higher, the casino owner and his henchmen stopped by virtually every day, and prostitutes became so common that a few frequenters were called by name. All the while La Sorelli grew more and more panicked, desperate to get away. It seemed that nothing could please Phillippe more than that.
The tension in the air was palpable over the next few months. Raoul was stuck in the middle, torn between family loyalty and love, and all the while never knowing why his life had become such a mess.
One day, he set off on a day-long business trip. On his way out, he passed a group of people entering. Philippe walked in the center of the blob; surprisingly, he was not surrounded by hookers, but by the darker skinned casino owner and his personal army. By the jubilant look on the owner's face, Philippe owed oodles and oodles more money since last night.
Thinking nothing of the matter, Raoul went on his way.
By the time he returned, it was already dusk. The streets were quieter, and as his carriage rumbled over the cobblestones, Raoul (for once) had time to aimlessly ponder the deeper workings of the world in the silence.
When he stepped out and onto the stairs in front of his family's mansion, it was eerily quiet. Typically, there was some hustle and bustle in and out of doors, windows being cleaned, and general straightening taking place. But now, everything was perfectly still.
Slightly perturbed, Raoul paused momentarily on the steps before continuing his ascent.
Knocking gently on the colossal door, Raoul was not surprised that it hadn't been opened. Xander surely had a part in whatever mischief caused this house to be so silent...
Shoving hard against the woodwork, it creaked open slowly to reveal the few electric lights dimmed, and curtains drawn over the windows. Nobody was in the foyer.
Despite not a single member of the household being in sight, slight murmurings echoed from the upstairs hallway. Cautioned, hurried, mumbled words created a slight buzz.
Mounting each step rapidly with increasing panic surging through his veins, Raoul sprinted towards the one open door at the end of the hallway. His son's room.
Hearing his footsteps, the speaking halted and a hush came over the entire room, and a nervous face peered around the corner of the door frame. Xander.
Raoul slid past the elderly man and saw every single servant standing around a crib, heads raised and terror clear in their eyes.
Xander coughed from behind him. "S-sir... we don't know where your son is." His voice cracked. "Or where his mother is... Or the Comte." Tears streamed down his face.
Raoul shoved through the crowd, coming to rest with his hands on the railings of the crib.
Empty.
His hands began to tremble.
He turned back into the hallway and bolted to La Sorelli's room.
Empty.
His legs began to tremble.
He turned back into the hallway and bolted to Philippe's room.
Empty.
He collapsed backwards against the wall, utterly terrorized, utterly broken, and utterly alone.
Raoul's eyes flew open.
His brow was drenched in sweat. His breath came in heavy gasps. His hands clenched the armrests of the seats, turning them white with the strength of his grasp.
"I'm in the present. That's all in the past. There's nothing to worry about. You'll never know what happened. Don't fret. Leave. Yes, leave." Reassuring words spilled from his throat, the insane mutterings of a man afraid.
Raoul stood, staggering and stuttering incoherent phrases as he fell over the back of the row of seats. He crashed against the wall before shoving himself off and continuing at a trot down the rest of the hallway, stumbling over his own two feet the entire way.
The doors were open. Blinding sunlight blared in through the entryway.
Almost out, almost out...
His lungs locked, refusing to let any air pass in or out while he madly dashed for the door. Suffocating, he ran even faster, bolting across the tiles.
Grabbing the frame of the door, he launched himself outside and into the open; his lungs released him.
Panting in exhaustion, Raoul collapsed against one of the pillars guarding the entrance.
In exiting the building, he was temporarily freed from his past. A passing constable looked inquisitively up at him as he passed, and in that moment Raoul's lungs locked again.
Free from his past, but not free from his present.
Raoul picked himself up, and followed after the policeman.
Inspector Ledoux was having a terrible day.
The night before, a notorious thief had been captured. It was commonly believed that this crook was a mastermind, the epitome of stealth and stealing.
Inspector Ledoux believed different.
Over the past five or six years, almost every noble in Paris had had some amount of money stolen from them. The amount stolen was sometimes cash, but this thief had always nicked something else besides just cash. The other items stolen were a random assortment of baubles: jewelry, priceless artifacts, paintings, books, sculptures, and so forth. There was almost no rhyme or reason behind which items were stolen -only that each pocketed treasure was worth a fortune, and was one of that family's most prized possessions.
Ever the type to endorse conspiracy theories, the aristocrats were always astonished when a little known about but priceless item was stolen from their households while they were away. Thus, they at first concluded that it must be their own servants stealing the object, but after a variety of cruel and inhumane beatings of almost all the servants in their employ (and the revelation that many other nobles were having their possessions stolen) they realized it was impossible for the servants to have staged a city wide conspiracy to raise themselves on the social ladder.
After that mishap, they had concluded that it must be someone with a noble as a connection. Someone who knew that they owned it, someone that they were close enough to to know that they would be gone from their house at a certain time.
Ledoux had to admit, the aristocracy wasn't quite as stupid as he had previously believed them to be.
It had been obvious to him from the start that all of these items stolen were more of an inside job, and he knew that most servants feared repercussions so much that they would never attempt anything like that. Thus, it had to be someone close to them, but not close enough to be suspected.
Then there was the issue of the crimes themselves. They happened in a few distinct patterns. Some had no evidence of breaking and entering, which led Ledoux to suspect that they had simply blended right in with the servants and hurried upstairs -very easy to avoid leaving any incriminating evidence, but leaving possible eyewitnesses as to appearance, and of course there was the possibility of being caught. Others had come in through the window of the room itself, sometimes using a crowbar, or sometimes cutting a hole in the glass to get to the window latch. A few other times, they had found the locks on balcony doors picked open, and one of those times a rope had been discovered at the bottom.
Yes, the crimes themselves were quite confusing to an outsider. In Ledoux's experience, criminals tended to stick to one method of breaking in, and just that one. Of course, he had seen improvisations and ingenious escapes, but those were few and far between. In general, a thief could get caught if he tried to make himself a jack of all trades, with a slight possibility of being caught for each, than if he specialized in one, mastering it until there was virtually no way he could be caught in the actual act.
With no captures during the actual crimes, and only one capture from an eyewitness's description, this thief -or more likely, thieves- were obviously the best in each of their individual fields, thus suggesting a group of several that worked separate projects, but shared in the group profit.
Of course, if there were multiple thieves, there was sure to be some kind of a group connection. Ledoux seriously doubted that each thief would be able to obtain information on where treasures were hidden and times to strike all on their own. There had to be a leader.
And that's just what I'm going to get out of this rat, thought Ledoux.
Ledoux rounded the corner, and spied the jailhouse. He sighed internally, time for another go...
Trudging up the steps, he opened the door and walked inside, nodding his head at the other officer as he went.
"Good day, Inspector Javert."
"Good afternoon, Inspector Ledoux."
"Is the prisoner still in the same cell?" Ledoux jerked his head in the direction of the farthest cell.
"Yes, go right on in; I was waiting for you to return before I left. I have another criminal to hunt down, one who's been at large for years and years. 24601, I will find you..."
Javert proceeded to mumble incessantly and snatched his club before exiting the building.
Ledoux peered at his receding back for a few more moments before turning sharply and walking down the hall. He stopped when he reached the farthest cell. Inside was a man, bruised and beaten, his prior state of good health wrecked by the first few days in a prison. A scruffy beard covered his chin, and he looked up through bloodshot eyes at the inspector.
"Here to see me again? I'll never talk... never..." The prisoner broke off coughing, and the reeling hacks knocked his head against the wall.
Ledoux pulled out the keys, and jumped in the room swiftly while he was still in the midst of his fit. Locking the door behind him, he pulled out a chair and sat down, staring intently at the thief.
He exhaled slowly, and then addressed the other's prior claim; "We'll see about never talking... I assure you, there is little worse than a French prison camp. Hard manual labor for the rest of your life, starving everyday, the disease and death surrounding you... Pleasant to think about, isn't it?"
The prisoner chortled, and suppressed another cough; "Do you think that scares me, after what HE said he would do if I ever spilt the beans? Oh, I assure you, He is much much worse than anything you could ever do to me..."
Even if the prisoner had not meant to reveal it, Ledoux was now sure that there was a leader. Ledoux chewed the inside of his gums; "Mind telling me what he threatened you with? I'm sure we could offer you full protection from whatever this punishment is. Move you out of the country, to a nice beach town in Italy..."
His adversary's mouth opened, and closed, indecision plaguing his face. Beaches were pretty nice. Hesitating again, he seemed almost willing to talk... until a metal scraping sound echoed from the main office.
"I'll be back." Ledoux snapped a pair of handcuffs on the man's hands and chained him to a chair. Unlocking, opening, closing, and locking the door in record time, Ledoux sprinted down the hallway to see a blond man searching through the files on Paris's crimes. He looked up in surprise when Ledoux entered, jumping back slightly at his appearance.
Ledoux eyed him suspiciously. "Who are you and what were you doing with that cabinet?"
The man stuttered a little, mumbling some nonsense about a noble heritage.
"Speak louder and state your name!"
The man straightened up, pulling himself higher than the inspector. He gazed down, all traces of the former fear banished from his face. His blond hair almost glowed in the semi-darkness, and Ledoux had the vague impression that a vengeful archangel was glaring down at him.
"A troubled citizen. Like many other aristocrats in this current climate, I am highly concerned about the pitiful job the police force has been doing. I mean really, five years? Isn't that how long this thievery has been going on? And that man is all you have to show for your efforts? Really, I would have expected more..."
The man turned on his heel and stalked over to poke at the files once again. "Naturally, it has been talked about for years that the thefts have taken place in the majority of houses of the upper class. Some people have even been robbed twice. How, I cannot fathom, as I myself have been a victim, and immediately after the theft I redoubled all efforts to protect my possessions. But still, it is a possibility... and so, I sought to protect myself by obtaining all the knowledge I could about this thief that dare violate our homes. He went into my house, into the chapel within, and stole a golden crucifix. A religious item! A symbol of faith! Heathen..."
Shaking his head, he tapped the filing cabinet. "Of course, I felt that knowing as much as possible about this barbarian would protect me. So, I came here, and I hoped to listen in on your interview, find out where he had hidden all of those treasures... But, all of the files and information on his past misdeeds had to be hidden in here, along with all of the other miscreants of Paris. It seemed smarter to those that instead. I picked the lock so I could search for his information, and it was quite a noisy process, therein causing you to rush in and accuse me of doing something preposterous. I wasn't really paying attention to your ridiculous accusations, mind repeating them?"
His snide and demeaning tone slapped Ledoux in the face. Since when was he one to be insulted about miscarriages of justice! Just because this man was upper class didn't mean he had unlimited privileges! It was also unnatural... If this man had been truly curious on the case proceedings, he would have taken the file on the case itself years before. Something wasn't right. His holier-than-thou attitude wasn't really helping the situation.
A smile crossed Ledoux's face. "Well, if you are that curious, why don't I show it to you? I was just coming to retrieve the case file and the individual's file anyways to use in my questioning... Say, why don't you watch? I'm sure you'll learn everything you could possibly want by observing. Then you can tell all of your friends what you've heard to, and about all the progress we're making in the investigation. Does that sound acceptable, m'lord?"
His mocking tone hit a nerve. The noble's face flinched, before returning to calm haughtiness again.
"It sounds wonderful. Please bring me there."
Opening the filing cabinet, he removed the two files containing the information on the case. As ashamed as he was to admit it, the noble was right. There really wasn't much information on the case. The file only contained a few photographs and testimonials, along with some dates and times. Ledoux gestured down the hall, and his companion swept ahead, walking with a purpose. Pausing at the end, he bent down to leer through the bars.
By that time Ledoux had reached the same spot, and quite a curious phenomenon was occurring. The noble's effect on the prisoner was instantaneous; the captured stuttered and turned pale as a sheet, all color draining from his face -he sat rigidly, stiff against the chair, before collapsing into a wave of tremors.
Ledoux was relatively sure the man had peed himself as well.
Unlocking the door, the inspector trudged inside, followed closely by the imposing figure. Locking the door again and settling down at the table, Ledoux opened the files.
"So, as I had said before, we can offer you protection. All we need is the name of the ringleader, or just a few more of your cronies... is that really so hard?"
The prisoner shook his head vehemently.
"Why would it be so difficult? Come now, you obviously recognized my noble friend here, and I would assume you know the power he has in French society. You must see that with people like him supporting this investigation, you would be guaranteed safety from any remaining nefarious plots. So, those names?" Ledoux was bluffing, basing all of his facts and threats of off the reaction the thief had, trying to piece together whatever factor made the man fear this noble so much.
With his face red and contorted in anger and fear, the words spewed venomously from his mouth. "I'll never talk! NEVER. You won't get a word from me! Oh, I'll go down in history, the prisoner never to crack! No information for you! No information for you! NONE!"
Huffing and puffing, the man looked down and realized that he had jumped up during his soliloquy, and sat hastily back down in a vaguely embarrassed manner. Running his fingers through his hair, he gazed down at his legs, refusing to meet Ledoux's eyes.
"Alright. I can see that you aren't going to give us any kind of information." Ledoux's voice was barely a whisper, as he calmly replaced the past records in the file. Standing up, he gestured to his companion to exit with him, leaving their outspoken friend shaking behind them.
Following in surprise, the blond haired man sputtered half formed questions as Ledoux again locked the cell. As they rounded the corner, he finally forced the words out.
"You're... you're... just going to stop now? What kind of a police officer are you? Is this just because I came?" He seemed a little more panicked now, and the words flowed more naturally than they had in his haughty attitude before.
Why yes, yes it is. Don't think I didn't notice his reaction when you came in. There's some kind of connection...
Ledoux kept these thoughts to himself. "Well, I can see he isn't going to be of much use to us... we'll just have to search wherever he stays and hope that turns up with something. Alas, it is always the criminals we need most that are hardest to crack. Unless of course, you have any information to help us."
Fuming, the noble straightened up, bringing him to a height much higher than the inspector had expected. Glowering down upon him, his lips curled into a sneer; "Are you insinuating something my dear sir? That I of all people would know something about that filth that is polluting that cell as we speak? No, my dear sir, I know nothing. Is this what we pay our police to do? I think you're quite incompetent, as a matter of fact. Oh, and I happen to be friends with the head of the entire police force in France. It would be an absolute shame if I had to have a chat with him about your employment..."
Ledoux paled a bit; "Oh, I will catch the ringleader, don't worry, I'll get it done, as fast as possible sir, fastest of the fast, that's me, Ledoux..."
The sneer became more pronounced; "Just remember not to insult Raoul de Chagny again." He swept out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Insolent little cockroach...
Knees trembling, Ledoux leaned against a nearby wall and slid down; never again would he meddle with someone as fickle as the aristocracy. Never. Again.
Outside the window next to him, a figure clothed in black darted away.
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Feedback is always welcomed!
Yes, Erik and Christine are not in this chapter *sob*, because they're in the NEXT chapter.
This chapter was SUPER long when I finally finished writing it, so I divided it up into TWO chapters. The second half will be up in about a week, sooner if I get some opinions on this chapter.
Also, if it wasn't obvious enough, I had just watched the Les Miserable movie before writing this. And I couldn't resist putting some Soup Nazi into the prisoner's rant either.
I really am so sorry for the wait.
Thank you to everybody that keeps reading, despite my ridiculous update times.