Chapter 26

Madame Giry walked quickly down the street, as fast as she could without drawing too much attention to herself, trying not to make eye contact with the groups of soldiers and gendarmes passing by her. They were on horseback, or on foot, and they were heavily armed. The news had gotten out fast: the most wanted man in Paris had been seen in Parc de Seigneurs, and he had once again attempted to abduct Madame Christine de Chagny.

Her eyes darted about, looking every which way, searching for any sign that might help her find Erik before it was too late. Her heart was racing. She couldn't let him be captured. She couldn't let him die.

She was approaching the Chagny house now. The gates were opened, revealing a swarm of law enforcement officers in the garden in front of the house, talking amongst themselves or investigating the grounds. Several well-dressed passersby had stopped in their morning walks, curious and fearful about what was unfolding before them. Thank goodness for the neighbors. Antoinette was able to walk behind them and stay out of sight, but not before she glimpsed a distraught Christine, still in her dressing gown, talking to a soldier in the garden. Madame Giry glared at her as she passed by, willing the Vicomtesse, who looked quite hysterical, to keep her mouth shut.

All right, Erik. If I were you, where would I go? She knew he'd been injured badly, and he couldn't have gotten far. She scanned her surroundings, and decided to make her way around to the back of the house. Looking past the foreboding iron fence at the elegant balcony stories above her, Antoinette thought she might be getting somewhere. It was so Shakespearean, so romantic. Erik had to have been here. It was only a hunch, but it was all she had to go by.

"Madame?"

Antoinette spun around to face a stern-looking gendarme, armed to the teeth. "Yes, officer?" She managed to say.

"Surely you've heard, madame. An extremely dangerous fugitive was seen here last night, and is most likely still at large. He could be somewhere close by. We're advising all civilians to get indoors and stay there until he's found, so, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"Oh, yes sir, right away," Madame Giry said, thankful that the gendarme was not suspicious of her. For once she was grateful to be away from the world of the opera house, where everyone had known she had some special connection with Erik, or the Phantom as they'd known him.

She turned the corner, out of the man's sight, and breathed a sigh of relief. The back gate was just feet away from her, she noticed, and she turned to look into the wall of trees that surrounded the entire Parc. There was a little path leading into the shady forest, barely visible. But Erik could see in the dark better than anyone she knew, and he always found the most obscure pathways to take. Antoinette thought it over for a brief moment, then hurried down the path before anyone could spot her.

The area of forest was small, but the path was lined by old, tall trees that blocked out much of the sunlight and completely hid Antoinette from the prying eyes of the police or any of the civilians. As she walked she quickened her strides, searching desperately for any trace of Erik. Her every thought was a prayer for his safety. He had to be all right. He just had to be. After everything he'd been put through in his life, he didn't deserve to have it all end this way.

Madame Giry stopped for a moment to catch her breath. Though the shade of the trees cast shadows all across the way before her, she glimpsed something darker to the side of the path. She moved closer. It looked like…

Her heart sank, then began to race as she dashed forward.

There was a body in the dead leaves. It lay on its side, not facing her, but she knew who it was. She knelt beside him and turned him over.

"Erik…Erik!" She looked in horror at the blood staining his clothes, the gashes on his leg, chest, and shoulder. It looked as though he'd been able to stop the bleeding, but the Vicomte's guard dogs had left their mark on his body, his skin torn in gaping, horrifying wounds. He looked so pale and weak, lying there motionless. "Wake up, oh please wake up!" She reached out and gently touched the left side of his face, praying and willing him to come back to her. His face was cold to the touch, but not as cold as the skin of a corpse would be. Her heart soared. There was a chance. She took his arm and was about to feel for his pulse when she saw him slowly open his eyes.

Antoinette gasped. "Oh, thank God!" She let out a sigh of relief. "You're still alive."

"Still alive…" Erik blinked, his eyes dull, his expression pained. "Damn."

"What do you…?"

"Leave me, Antoinette. Let me stay here. Let me die."

Madame Giry couldn't believe what she was hearing. Erik was talking nonsense. "Let you die? Don't be ridiculous. I've found you, and I'm going to take care of you. Can you walk?"

"I can't live without her, Antoinette. Let me die. Please." His glassy eyes pleaded with her.

"You can live, Erik. You don't need her."

He grimaced with pain. "I'm all alone…I can't live without her. She rejected me again. I thought she would come with me…I can't believe it. Why did this have to happen to me…again?"

Antoinette's heart was breaking for him, but she had to tell him the truth. Maybe this time, she could get through to him. "Because the two of you are not meant to be. You have to learn to accept that and move on with your life. Now answer me: can you walk?"

Erik shook his head slightly. "Not meant to be…that's what she said to me. Why? Why are we not meant to be? What have I done? Where did I go wrong?" His voice was hoarse and quiet, full of sorrow and pain.

Madame Giry sighed. "She fell in love with Raoul. No one can change that, Erik."

He groaned. "Why him? Why not me? What did I do to deserve this? Why am I cursed to be alone? Why has no one ever loved…"

"Enough!" Antoinette cried. Erik fell silent and looked at her strangely. It was no wonder he was surprised; she rarely dared to interrupt him when he spoke. But this time she had something she needed to say. "I love you!"

Erik's eyes widened as his lips parted in alarm.

"I've always loved you!" Antoinette said fiercely. "You're like a brother to me. You and Meg, you're all the family I have. I love you more than anything in the world, and I can't let anything happen to you!"

The former Phantom of the Opera, the man that had terrorized countless people, was looking up at her with his beautiful eyes, eyes that held shock and utter confusion, but all the awe and wonder of a child's gaze upon something new and incredible. He was speechless for a moment, but he managed to say a single word. "You…?"

"I love you, Erik. And if you had any sense at all, you would see that I'm not the only one!"

He squinted at her, trying to read her expression. "What?"

She didn't have time to explain, nor did she want to. He would have to figure things out for himself. "Can you walk? Yes or no? The police could come down the path at any minute and discover us. We have to get out of here, now."

Erik, still looking bewildered, closed his eyes and seemed to gather whatever strength he might have left. Slowly, he sat up, and dragged himself to his feet, gasping with the pain. Madame Giry stood alongside him and pulled the hood of his cloak over his head so that his recognizable, masked face would be hidden if someone spotted him. Erik tried to take a step forward. His leg buckled, and he nearly fell, but Antoinette let him lean against her. He was taller and heavier than she was; it was a struggle, but she helped support his weight the best she could, and they made their way slowly down the path.

Madame Giry had been for a walk in this wood before, and she knew that the path would eventually lead them very close to the Comte de Bellamy's house. She kept on praying as she and Erik stumbled along the way in silence. It had only taken a little while for her to travel the distance earlier, but this time their pace was agonizingly slow. Every step was torture for Erik. He didn't say a word, but she could see it on his face how much pain he was in. After what seemed like an eternity, they finally came to the fork in the path that they needed to take.

"Wait here," Antoinette said to Erik, who staggered to the side, leaning heavily on a tree for support. Cautiously, she stepped out into the openness of the neighborhood. The sidewalks and street were deserted; it looked like the soldiers and gendarmes had ordered all civilians indoors. This would only make it easier for the fugitive they hunted to escape…provided none of the officers caught sight of them. She turned back to Erik. "We're going to have to move faster now that we're out in the open. Do you think you can handle it?"

Erik just nodded, and Madame Giry came over and let him lean on her again. Together, they stepped out into the neighborhood. They were walking faster now, but Antoinette kept looking around nervously, terrified that someone would see them. True, Erik's face was hidden, but two lone figures on an evacuated street, one shrouded in black and limping, would look extremely suspicious. Still, at least the house was in sight, and she was determined to make it there safely.

They made it to the back of the house, and Antoinette guided Erik to stand to the side of the door and between two windows while she went inside and checked to see if the hallway was clear. It was empty, so she went back for Erik and helped him down the stairs, painfully slowly.

Then she heard a door slam, and both of them started. Her throat felt like it was closing up, but she kept going, hoping that somehow whoever had just come into the hallway wouldn't say anything.

But the middle-aged man dressed in porter's clothes, Louis, always said something. He walked towards them hurriedly and began talking loudly, "Ah, there you are, Antoinette! We've been looking for you everywhere! Have you been outside? Haven't you heard, about the murderer that's been seen in the Parc? What's his name…that opera phantom or something like that…"

"Y-yes, I've heard," Madame Giry replied, tightening her grip on Erik's arm. She could feel his pulse racing; he was nervous too. "My…cousin, here, knows about him all too well. He was…supposed to arrive yesterday to visit with us but he had an encounter with the madman…"

"Good heavens!" Louis looked Erik up and down. "What on earth did he do to you?"

"Well, obviously my cousin was badly hurt in the fight, so I'm bringing him to our apartment right away so I can take care of him," Antoinette answered quickly, motioning Louis out of the way so that she and Erik could pass.

The man moved aside, shaking his head in disbelief at the wounds on her "cousin's" body. "You do that. This poor fellow's in bad shape. One thing's for sure, I'll be on the lookout for that fugitive. He can't run forever. The law will punish him eventually for doing things like this to innocent people!"

Madame Giry didn't reply as she guided Erik to the apartment. Oh, the irony of it all…he'd just stood in front of the man that was being hunted, and that fugitive had been staying in the house of the person who perhaps wanted him dead more than anyone else.

Once inside, she rushed to get some towels and threw them across the couch. Then she brought Erik over and helped him slowly lie down.

The man let out a sigh. "Thank you," he whispered. His hood was down now, and she could see his dull eyes, exhaustion written all over his face. "You should have left me there…"

"Don't talk such nonsense!" Antoinette snapped as she fetched a bowl of water along with some soap and clean linen cloths. "I could never leave you."

Erik just closed his eyes and let his head fall back on the pillow, grimacing occasionally as Madame Giry washed his gruesome injuries as gently as she could. She tried not to look at his face as she slowly sewed the jagged wounds shut; she could feel the tenseness in his body and see how tightly his fists were clenched. Though he was in agony, he did not make a sound. Erik was tougher than most men. Pain was nothing new to him, she reflected, remembering the night she'd first met Erik, the night the gypsy man had been brutally beating him. He already bore many scars, and these injuries were sure to leave more.

Finally she bandaged the wounds, and made Erik take a little drink of water. "There. I'm all finished here now," she said softly. "I hate to have to leave you, but I must get back to my work. I'll be back as soon as I can." She started for the door, then turned around to face him. "Don't even think about going anywhere."

Erik opened his eyes a little. "No need to worry about that," he rasped. "Nowhere to go."

"Not yet, anyway," Madame Giry said with a cryptic edge to her voice. "You may not agree with me right now, but please, at least listen. You may think your life is over now because Christine's rejected you. But your life's not over, Erik. It's only just beginning."

He stared at her, his expression a mixture of interest, confusion, and pure exhaustion.

"Please, think about what I'm saying now. And do not forget the things I told you back in the woods. I promise you, what I have said is the truth. Every single word."

And reluctantly she left Erik, lying there and thinking over what she had spoken, until weariness overcame him and he fell into dreams.

As Madame Giry went about her housekeeping work that day, her thoughts were with him all the while. It seemed to be her role in life, to save him, to catch him every time he fell. She had done her job well thus far; after everything that had happened to him, there he was, still alive. But, she thought to herself, there was one thing she knew she could never do for him.

Erik had been born with a broken heart. Into something unimaginable, something no human should ever have to experience: a life without love. Each and every torture he'd had to face in his life had broken his shattered heart into smaller and smaller pieces; it was a wonder there was anything left of him at all. No family to care for him. No one to love him for who he was. True, Antoinette loved him dearly, and always would, but she knew she couldn't give Erik what he needed.

She could not be the one to save him.

But maybe, just maybe, she knew of someone who could…

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Alana stepped down onto the hot, dusty road, blinking in the bright sun. Everything looked exactly the same, Détente just the way she'd left it.

But now, she felt like a stranger in the town. Cerise and her aunt got out of the carriage and stood beside her, shading their eyes and taking a look around as Raimond tied up the horse. The people on the street, familiar faces, looked at the four of them as they passed by, and they whispered amongst themselves. Alana knew she had to have been a source of gossip for the town with her sudden disappearance, and with her father being thrown in jail.

"Alana!" she heard a woman's voice cry out.

She turned, and there was Madame Marguerite Durand, hurrying towards her. Soon she felt her friend's arms wrapped around her in a tight hug. "I've missed you my dear," the woman was saying. "It seems you've been gone so long."

Alana hugged her friend tighter. She really hadn't been gone long, but it felt like an eternity since she had talked to Marguerite, had walked these streets. Since things had been normal. "I've missed you too," she said as she stepped back. "Oh, by the way, this is my cousin Cerise. And my Uncle Raimond and Aunt Amélie."

"Pleasure to meet you all," Marguerite said warmly as she curtsied to them. "Now." Her voice became grave. "Are you ready to go and see him?"

Alana swallowed hard, trying to push back the overwhelming sense of dread. Fear. She forced herself to slowly turn around, and stare directly at the building she had been trying not to look at.

The town jail.

Trouble was rare in Détente, and the thought of her father being locked up inside was so humiliating, both for herself and for him. She was angry with him, and at the same time she pitied him, her heart aching with every beat.

She'd never even been inside the jail, and she was scared. But she couldn't avoid this. She had to face it, head on.

"I'm ready."