A/N: Sorry about the lack of updates, just had a bad case of writer's block. Possibly induced by having to rush my rabbit to the emergency pet hospital at midnight. Vets still haven't figured out what's wrong with him, so they will be keeping him for a few days. I think my heart is broken. All the better to write angsty fanfic, I guess. Just don't expect much fluff until I get my little ball of fluff back.
He didn't hear the men until it was too late; when he finally realized that his home had been invaded, they were close enough to shoot him, and one of them did so.
He had never been shot before, and at first he didn't even realize that the bullet had pierced his upper thigh. It was only when crashed to the ground and felt the blood trickling down his leg that the sharp, biting pain registered. For a moment, he knelt on one knee, his injured leg lying uselessly on the ground. His mind seemed to slow, and the next few minutes seemed to drag on interminably. He tried reaching to his side, but knew as he did so that there was no length of rope there. There was no knife strapped to his boot, either. He hadn't kept a weapon on him in over a year, and there wasn't one now when he needed it.
Before he could react, or formulate a plan, or get his bearings in any way, two of the men grabbed his arms, lifting him unwillingly to his feet, while another searched him for weapons. Above the dull rush of blood to his head that left him disoriented and slightly deaf, he could hear rough voices debating whether or not to take his mask off. They must have decided to leave it, because in the next moment, they had pinned him to a wall, and were proceeding to lash his hands together, and lift them above his head to tie them to a wall sconce above him.
This position left him weak and unable to move at all. He struggled to get his legs fully underneath him, but due to the gunshot wound a painful amount of his weight was supported by his arms. Breathing had become somewhat difficult, and he nearly blacked out, but a smooth, dark voice cut through his daze.
"Where is the little bitch?"
Coward, the dark recesses of my mind whispered. Too afraid to stay; what a miserable excuse for a human being you are. The sharp staccato beat of the rain drummed a rhythm in my head, a rhythm that my thoughts sung along with, repeating that word over and over. Coward. Coward.
I tried to silence it, but I could no sooner end the relentless rain with a thought or gesture than make my mind leave me alone. I agreed wholeheartedly with what it was saying; I was a coward. I was afraid to stay, afraid to find out what would happen to me if I did, afraid that Erik might break through my walls instead of me breaking through his. I had been so intent upon getting him to trust me and open up to me that I didn't think about the consequences. I didn't think that I would fall in love with him.
ThereI told the mocking voice in my mind. I admitted it. Happy now?
Of course not. Coward, it whispered again. You're still afraid.
This was getting ridiculous. I shouldn't have to argue with myself like this. I must be going insane.
Of course you are. That's what you get for not listening to me.
But I can't go back. It was true, I couldn't. Could I? After all, he had asked me to leave.
He didn't mean it; he was afraid, like you!
No, that was impossible. If he had wanted me to stay he would have said so.
He was afraid you would hurt him, the way everyone else has. He was afraid you would refuse.
He was right, after all. I didn't want to stay. His life was so dark and cold and lonely. No, I couldn't live like that. I wouldn't live like that.
Why didn't you ask him to come with you?
Because he wouldn't have said yes.
Are you sure?
Yes...maybe...no. I don't know. But what if he said no?
Then you would go alone. But at least you would know for sure. If you don't, you'll spend the rest of your life regretting it, and wondering what could have been.
I was suddenly very aware that people were staring at me; I must have been a strange sight; constantly stopping then starting again, standing in the middle of the walk while rain fell on my bare head and trickled down my neck. I was the only one on the street not wearing a cloak of some kind; and I was freezing.
Make your choice.
I had nothing to lose but the little dignity I had left. I tightened my grip on my bag, whirled around and ran like a madwoman back to the opera house, while the Parisians unfortunate enough to be caught in the rain stared after me in amusement.
"Oh, don't pretend to be unconscious! I know you're awake, so just answer the question."
Erik was struck by the gentile quality of Leon's voice; it was almost as smooth as the blade pressed lightly against his throat. It was really no wonder Remy had trusted this man; he sounded cheerful, eager, friendly, and perfectly trustworthy. If it weren't for the fact he was tied up like a rabid dog, he would have thought he was seated in some beautiful parlor discussing Remy over a cup of tea. Of course, referring to Remy as "the little bitch" had not done anything to endear Leon to him. In fact, he was really beginning to want to kill the smarmy, arrogant bastard. He just had to figure out how.
Leon had posted the four men around the lair; two were standing knee deep in the lake facing the entrance they had come through, one was standing near the organ, and another on the top of the staircase near Remy's room. All four had their backs turned.
"You are beginning to make me very angry. You may believe, my masked friend, you don't wish to make me angry."
Erik remained silent, sizing up his opponents, and his chances for escape. He had to admit to himself, his situation did not look promising. If only he could get his hands free...
Suddenly, a sharp pain dug into his shoulder, as Leon moved the blade away from his throat and stabbed him. He barely restrained the cry of pain that threatened to betray his humanity.
"I don't think you're listening! I asked you where the girl is, and you are going to tell me!"
The change was amazing; in the space of a moment the quiet good breeding was gone, replaced by a look of utter insanity. Erik was familiar with that expression; he had worn it before, but never to such a degree as showed in Leon's crazed eyes.
A few moments of working at the rope proved what Erik had suspected to be true; the men who had tied him there had done their work well, and there was no real hope of escape. All he could do now was protect Remy.
"Well, what are you smiling at? Do you find me amusing, sir?"
"You're too late."
"Too late for what, may I ask?"
"I killed the little whore two days ago. If you still want her, you might look around the tunnels a while. I'm sure the body is still there."
Leon's eyes narrowed into slits, then, without warning, tore off Erik's mask, taking the dark wig with it, leaving his deformity entirely exposed. Like Remy, he barely even flinched. Just stared for a moment then, unlike Remy,began to laugh hysterically.
"Well, look at that. My Remy found herself another pathetic beast to look after her and lie for her."
Erik instinctively turned his face away in a final attempt to hide, but there was nowhere left to turn, no more shadows to hide in. Leon's voice grated on his ears, scraped at his mind like a badly played tune.
"Tell me, for I reallywould liketo know, what did she promise you in return for your loyalty?"
"I told you, I killed her. She was amusing for a while, but I got bored with her. Surely, you can sympathize."
"You lie very convincingly, you know. I almost believe you. But I know her ways; she worms her way into your heart, makes people like her. It's disgusting, really, how many people fall for her seductress ways."
"You're mad."
"No, you've got it all wrong!" Leon eyes blazed now, as though his eyes were lit from behind by a maniacal fire. "I am the only one who really knows her, who sees what she is!"
"A witch?" Erik kept his tone neutral, not wishing to reveal any emotion that might convince Leon that he was, indeed, lying.
"Exactly! I am merely trying to rid the world of this stain! And you, sir, are standing in the way!"
"Your job is already done, monsieur; the girl is dead."
"You see, I do not quite believe you. Your words agree with me, but your eyes tell me that you hate me. And if you hate me, it must be because you love her."
"Or because you brought these men into my home to shoot me and tie me like an animal."
"Well, let me be entirely frank, sir; you are an animal. Just like her. I think you have hidden her away, and are lying to protect her."
"That's absurd."
"Well, there is a way we can find out." Leon turned to the man standing near the organ and beckoned him closer. A brief exchange followed, one that Erik could not hear. Then the man began to attack the organ stool, kicking at it like it was his most hated enemy, until it lay broken on the floor in scattered pieces. He then proceeded to pile the pieces on top of each other, and finished by removing one of Erik's books from the shelf and placing it beneath the wood. With a flick of tinder, the book burst into flame, catching the ruined organ stool in its blaze. Erik remained silent, watching the destruction of his belongings passively. Every moment that Leon wasted with his crazed games gave Remy a better chance of freedom.
