Thanks for all the loverly support! I've been inspired to update quickly, so thank the plot bunny! Also, thanks for the 'constructive' reviews. I really like reading what you guys have to say, short of 'good now update!'. I really want to know what you think. But if you feel lazy, a 'shut up and update' would suffice too, I just like getting reviews! On with the story!

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Shock. Denial. Complete and utter defeat. Erik could not believe it.

"But... how?"

Marie was sobbing into her brother's arms, while Madame Giry kept a firm grip on a shaking Erik, despite her own tears.

The prima donna of the opera populaire was dead...

Micah's furious, tear-stained face rose to viciously meet Erik's form as the phantom spoke. Micah's answer was only a harsh whisper.

"It was you."

Marie raised her face half-way.

"What?"

"She died when HE hit the horse that night... hethrew a stone so he could get away with you... to run away like a coward. He hit the horse and it reared, and she fell back into the river! It was ALL YOU!"

Marie could only look on in shock and horror as Micah raced towards the quaking figure in front of him.

"Micah no!"

Erik roughly shoved Madame Giry aside and staggered without her support as Micah beat down upon his body, fists flailing. Wounded physically and spiritually, Erik did nothing to stop the abuse. In face, he welcomed it.

He had killed Christine... Each blow felt deserving, and Erik reveled in the pain. Perhaps if he was hit hard enough, he would die too...

"Micah! Stop this now!"

Marie flung her body in front of Erik, trying desperately to protect him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and since his mask had fallen off, she arched her body to protect his face. She turned to face Micah.

SMACK!

One of Micah's blows had caught Marie on her deformed side, and the shock and pain of the blow made her crumple momentarily on top of Erik. Erik jolted, and immediately felt his anger flare. That blow was for him! He deserved this pain! But not Marie... Despite the blood and injury, Erik summoned up a burst of energy and whipped the rug out from underneath Micah's feet. Erik swiftly withdrew Micah's sword from its sheath at the boy's side as he fell, and Micah's own blade was at his neck before he hit the ground. Marie had rolled away and was watching the scene through her fingers, which she held tight over her stinging face.

"Erik, NO!"

Madame Giry was sitting from a corner on the floor, holding her ankle which was in an awkward position since Erik threw her.

For a few tense moments, the two men stared at each other in this position. Marie's eyes were now darting back and forth between the two men, her mind raking form, character, and...eyes.

Then suddenly, Micah's hand shot out and deftly removed the thin lasso around Erik's waist. In an instant, Erik found himself gasping for breath underneath the harsh material of his own Punjab.

"Micah...please...don't!"

From his position underneath Erik, Micah tightened the noose slightly.

"He killed our mother, Marie, and drove father mad! Why shouldn't I just end this despicable reign now? Come home with me Marie, and let's forget about this man!" Erik refused to give Micah the satisfaction of him choking, and his face was turning progressively darker. His eyes were glowing with electricity.

"Give me a reason why not Marie!"

Marie's eyes were now desperate, and the words tumbled out before she could stop them. It was so obvious now, as the two fought side by side. So obvious... their manner, their fight, the passion!

"Because Micah! Because...he's your father!"

There was a stunned silence following her exclamation, and Erik took advantage of Micah's momentary surprise by slitting the lasso against the sword blade. It fell harmlessly off, and Erik shoved Micah aside. Erik backed away, still in shock. Christine...

Micah scowled.

"I don't know what this...man has been doing to you Marie, but obviously he's confused your mind."

Marie turned to Madame Giry.

"You must be able to see it!"

Her face white and her fingers still clutching her ankle, Madame Giry gritted her teeth and looked away. However, when she spoke, it was firm and correct, as it always was.

"This was not how I imagined it to go... in fact, I'd rather you hadn't found out at all... I only knew myself moments ago."

All present were watching her with bated breath. Then her brisk manner returned abruptly.

"Well don't just stand there gaping like fish! Stories need to be told, obviously, but no one in this room is in any such condition. You, boy!"

Micah jumped.

"Help me walk, I need to tend to Erik first. Then Marie. Perhaps I'll leave you to yourself, since you seemed to have caused the most damage." Micah knew better than to say anything. "Marie, if you're able, please help your father up."

Micah stood, rooted to the spot, angry.

"Stop saying that! Stop encouraging these lies! I'm not doing anything until I know–"

SMACK!

The bottom remnant of Madame Giry's cane made painful contact with Micah's shin. Again.

"You. Here. NOW."

Grudgingly Micah escorted Madame Giry to a chair, and she slowly sat down.

"There now, that wasn't so difficult. I'll make gentlemen of you two yet!"

Micah opened his mouth to protest, but his throbbing legs helped him think better of it.

"Now boy, hand me some pastes, salves, and bandages, they should be in one of Erik's far cupboards."

Erik raised his figure, his temper rising despite his emotional pain. The thought of Micah rummaging through his things! He was going to protest, but a sharp pain in his side took the wind out of him, and made him wince.

Marie glanced at him worriedly.

Madame Giry clasped her hands together and sighed as she surveyed the work that lay ahead of her. Her eyes fell upon Erik, whose injuries weren't anything to be desired. The poor man...

"Well, I have work to do."

The old woman wasn't just referring to the physical injuries, either.

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He'd been found at night by a band of wandering gypsies. Seeing his ward clothing, they assumed he was a suicide and took pity on him. In their rag-tag tents, the old wives nursed his injuries until he was well again. Then he insisted on speaking with the leader, a rough looking man by the name of Zaire.

Raoul told Zaire who he was, and what he wanted. The greedy, black-toothed man was more than willing to try to do deed for the amount of gold that was being offered.

"Are you sure zis is vat you vant?"

Raoul grinned and leaned back on the dirty rags being used as pillows. He was missing a tooth from the fall.

"Oh yes, most definitely."

"Eh... zis won't be easy, you know. Many know of zis Phantom... and zey von't vant to get involved..."

"Find the men. I'll pay more."

"Ahf course, monsewer. Vhatever you vant."

The manicured, tan hand shook the knarled, blackened one.

Later, alone with his men, Zaire conferred.

"Zis man is obviously crazy... and important. I zay ve make 'im believe ve killed zis 'phantom', reap our money, then ransom him for twice ze amount!"

His men gave a rowdy cheer.

"Yes... zis is vat ve'll do. And zis phantom, zer is a price on 'is head, you know. Somezing about the fire long ago, and murder. Even after all zees years, ze reward money still stands. And he is old now, and easy job! Men, we'll be rich!"

And with raising goblets and the breaking of the ale barrel, twenty-five thiefs and scoundrels drank to Erik's downfall.

Deals of the devil.

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Thanks for reading, review!

Silinde

aka

Diana.