Chapter Thirty Three: (Little Lotte)

As she watched that heart wrenching scene - a scene that she would never forget her entire life – Meg stood frozen. Christine's crystal tears mixing with Erik's crimson blood -Meg couldn't even begin to describe that hauntingly tragic picture. Standing there, watching in silence, awe, and grief, something snapped inside of her. She fell to the ground next to Christine and took Erik's cold hand in hers. Meg pressed two fingers to his wrist, checking his pulse. In all her turmoil, Christine hadn't even thought about that. "He's alive! Christine, there's a pulse! He's not dead!" Meg exclaimed, her entire face lighting up with hope.

Stifling a sob of relief, Christine looked at her friend.

"Meg, get help! Go to the church ...it's not far …get Father Thomas! …Hurry!" Christine frantically exclaimed.

Meg nodded and swiftly rose from the ground. She mounted her horse and sped toward the church at the edge of the cemetery.

Christine stayed on the ground, cradling Erik in her arms, trying desperately to keep him warm. He looked so pale, so cold so lifeless - Christine's heart trembled at the thought.

Little Lotte, thought of everything and nothing. Her father promised her that he would send her the angel of music…Her father promised her…Her father promised her…

Christine began to sing, her voice trembling and wavering with the worry and the grief that she felt, as it echoed through the silence of the cemetery.

Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation
Darkness stirs and wakes imagination
Silently the senses abandon their defenses

Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor
Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender
Turn your face away from the garish light of day
Turn your face away from cold, unfeeling light
And listen to the music of the night

Close you eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams
Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before
Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar
And you'll live as you've never lived before

Softly, deftly, music shall caress you
Hear it, feel it, secretly possess you
Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind
In this darkness which you know you cannot fight
The darkness of the music of the night

Let your mind start a journey through a strange, new world
Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before
Let your soul take you where you long to be
Only then can you belong to me

Floating, falling, sweet intoxication
Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation
Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in
To the harmony which dreams alone can write
The power of the music of the night

You alone can make my song take flight
Help me make the music of the night

As Christine sang the last note, her voice soaring in the silence of the dawn with a beauty that could make the heavens cry, tears streamed down her cheeks, and silence fell in the cemetery once again.

"Very beautifully sung," someone stated with admiration.

Christine's head snapped up, as she frantically looked around to find the source of the voice. Through the mist, walking towards her and Erik, was a man. Swiftly, Christine stood, leaving Erik on the ground. With all her strength, she picked up Erik's sword and pointed it at the man, who kept coming closer to them. Christine's hand trembled - she had never held a sword before - and it was heavy. She would be damned if she allowed anyone to harm her angel ever again.

The man stood a few feet away from Christine and Erik. She could see his features, his face. He had jade eyes and tanned skin.

"Who are you?" Christine asked with all the courage and the strength she had left.

"Just a friend," replied the man. He had a strange accent.

Christine continued pointing the sword at his heart.

The man looked at her for a moment, studying her with his jade eyes, and continued calmly, "I assure you, Mademoiselle, there is no need for the sword. I mean you no harm. I know Erik. I am his friend."

Christine's hand was shaking so violently, the sword fell from her grasp. She fell back to the ground and took Erik once again in her arms. She raised her head, eyeing the man, as she asked cautiously, logic and sense washing over her again, "Who are you?"

"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Nadir Khan. I have known Erik for a very long time. It is a long story."

He looked at Christine, who was studying him very carefully, as she tried to decide whether to believe him or not. Knowing how desperately she needed help, she knew she had no other choice but to trust him.

"He's gravely wounded, but he's still alive. I am trying to keep him warm, until my friend comes back with help," Christine said frantically.

Tears were rolling down her cheeks once more, and her lower lip was trembling.

Nadir got down on his knees and checked Erik's pulse. He replied, concern evident in his voice and expression, "His pulse is very weak. He needs help immediately."

"There's a church nearby. I sent Meg, my friend, to get help," Christine replied desperately.

"If he is to survive, we are going to have to move him now," Nadir said firmly. He rose, getting ready to try and lift Erik from the ground.

Suddenly, the sound of hooves was heard, horses approaching. Christine's breath caught in her chest, afraid it might be the police.

Nadir impulsively grabbed Erik's sword and swung around, ready to fight to protect his friend. That caught Christine's attention, too.

"Christine!" Meg called out, dismounting her horse and running toward her friend.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Erik was placed in a room in the back of the church. It was well furnished and there was a large cross hanging on the wall by the bed. There was also a fireplace, which kept the room warm.

The sanctuary of the church…

After they had placed Erik on the bed, Christine exclaimed, "We're going to need a doctor."

"Leave that to me. I will have warm water and a clean cloth brought to you. Start cleaning his wound. We do not want it to get infected," Nadir ordered.

Christine nodded, as Nadir turned and left the room to get the doctor.

Father Thomas, in turn, left the room with Meg, so that he could bring warm water and a clean cloth, and so that Meg could obtain clean clothes for Christine and Erik.

Christine stayed by Erik's side, silently praying that he would survive.

She and Erik had gotten married in this same church, on that magical night that still burned in Christine's heart and soul.

"In this church we were forever united… and now, in this same church, we might be forever separated," Christine thought in silent sorrow.

"Please, don't leave me," she whispered in that heart wrenching whisper.

Somewhere, deep inside the universe of his aching soul, Erik listened.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Meg entered an Opera House that was swarming with police officers and detectives. She had managed to sneak in, without causing any suspicion. She tried as much as possible to stay out of sight. The few people who did see her thought she was just another one of the performers from the Opera house, who had been there during the fire. To Meg's relief, that also explained her messy hair and tattered red dress.

She swiftly made her way through the halls and to her room, silently praying that none of the other ballet girls would spot her. To her relief, everything went well. When she opened the door of her room and stepped inside, she gasped, for there, sitting on her bed, was her mother. "Maman, you scared me half to death! What are you doing in my room?"

Madame's eyes were red, as if she had been crying. She rose from her daughter's bed, where she had been waiting, and walked toward Meg. Meg took a deep breath, knowing full well that she was in trouble.

Madame exclaimed angrily, "Where were you, young lady? All night long, I have been worried sick about you! How much more do you think my heart can take? Tell me, Meg, do you wish to kill me with worry?"

Meg chewed on her lower lip as she looked down at her feet, ashamed, feeling so incredibly guilty. She raised her head, her hazel eyes meeting her mother's angry blue ones, as she replied, apologetically and timidly, "I'm sorry, Maman."

Madame looked her daughter straight in the eye, and ordered angrily, "Oh, no. That won't do, young lady. Now, you will tell me everything. Is that understood?"

Meg nodded, as she frantically started to babble, "Oh, Maman, that's why I'm here…Erik is gravely wounded…we took him to the church…I came here to get some clean clothes for Christine and Erik…I couldn't go to her room because I know that her room will be swarming with police officers who are investigating… and since she's close to my size, I thought I could get her some of my clothes…we don't have much time…"

Madame's anger had subsided somewhat.

"Meg, Meg, calm down!" Madame cut through her daughter's frantic phrases.

Meg stopped her chaotic tale and looked apologetically at her mother. Antoinette had calmed down. A look of concern appeared on her stern face, as a picture of what had happened during the previous night started to form in her mind.

Madame grabbed her daughter by the arm and ordered, "You'll tell me the rest on the way. Now, get one of your dresses. Hurry!"

Meg nodded vehemently, as she asked, "What about Erik, Maman. He needs clean, dry clothes as well!"

"I'll get him something from the costumes in the outfit room…wait here for me. Don't you dare leave your room until I come back." With that last warning, Madame swiftly left her daughter's room.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Christine had unbuttoned Erik's shirt to reveal his bloody chest. Dipping the clean cloth that Father Thomas had provided into the warm water, she gently and lovingly started to wipe away the blood from his skin, as she softly began to clean the wound.

The sight of all that blood caused Christine's heart to shiver, which spread to her body and her bloodied hands. Christine stared at the now blood red – previously white – cloth as it caressed her angel's wounded chest. She submerged the cloth back into the bowl of clean water, and the water turned red from all the blood. Christine had a sudden and terrible urge to scream and scream, until she fell dead.

"Why does everything have to end in blood? So much blood…so much blood!" her heart screamed in anguish, over and over again.

Christine took a deep breath, and continued cleaning Erik's wound. Her hand was trembling so badly, she thought the cloth would fall to the ground. Willing with all her might, she kept herself composed and controlled. Erik needed her desperately now. She would be there for him, just as he had always been there for her.

Looking up at the crucifix hanging on the wall, like a silent witness, Christine whispered from the depths of her heart, soul, and being, "Oh, please, my Lord, bring him back to me. Please, don't take him away. I won't be able to survive without him…please, bring him back to me."

But what I love best, Lotte said, is when I'm asleep in my bed, and the angel of music sings songs in my head…the angel of music sings songs in my head…

x-x-x-x-x-x

Father Thomas was praying in front of the large crucifix in the chapel of the church. He was praying for Christine, for Erik, and for all those who were suffering, when the Persian's voice brought him out of his reverie.

"I have brought the doctor," Nadir said urgently.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Everyone waited outside the sick room, as the doctor examined Erik. Those moments of waiting seemed like forever.

Christine looked miserable sitting in a chair, so completely drained and exhausted.

"Christine, child, relax," Father Thomas said compassionately to her, his voice filled with concern and care.

"I can't," Christine replied faintly, her voice barely audible, sore from crying so much.

"I've brought you clean clothes, Christine!" Meg's voice rang out, filled with worry, cutting through that torturous silence - the silence of the wait…the wait to find out if Erik would survive or not.

"My dear, are you all right?" Madame's concerned, calm voice rang above her daughter's frantic one.

Christine nodded, as Meg said, "Here, Christine, let me help you to the other room, so you can change."

"No," Christine replied with a sob. "I want to know how Erik is first."

"Christine, pull yourself together. This is not the time for you to break down. You have to be strong, if not for yourself, then for Erik, and the baby that you carry!" Madame ordered firmly.

Meg's jaw dropped at the news, but the Persian did not look surprised.

Christine took a deep, labored breath. Wiping away her tears, she nodded and slowly pushed herself up from her chair.

"You're right," Christine whispered in reply, allowing Meg to escort her to the other room.

Alone now with Nadir Khan and Father Thomas, Madame eyed Nadir keenly, as she asked accusingly, "So, you're Erik's supposed friend, are you?"

There was a hint of doubt and sarcasm in her voice, which the Persian caught, as Father Thomas observed them talking.

"As a matter of fact, I am. My name is Nadir Khan. I suppose that you are Madame Giry? …Antoinette Giry, the woman who saved his life, a long time ago, from the gypsies?" Nadir replied calmly and confidently.

"Who told you?" Madame demanded threateningly.

"Erik told me. Do not worry, Madame, for I, too, have saved Erik's life, once. I am guessing that he has not told you about me."

Before Madame had a chance to reply, Meg and Christine emerged from the other room. Christine was wearing a beautiful white feminine shirt, with a very elegant, long blue skirt.

"You look beautiful, my dear," Madame said consolingly to Christine, trying to cheer her up.

The doctor chose that moment to emerge from Erik's room. They were all standing, as Christine exclaimed pleadingly, "Tell me, how is he, doctor?"

The doctor looked at Christine, then at Nadir, then at Madame Giry, as he said in a deathly calm voice, "His wound is very deep, and it has become inflamed. He is also burning up with fever, not to mention that he has lost a very significant amount of blood."

Taking a deep breath, he continued sadly, for no doctor in the world enjoyed giving bad news, "I'm afraid he doesn't have much time left."

"What! What do you mean?" Christine replied furiously, as she lunged at the doctor and grabbed him fiercely by the collar of his jacket with both hands, her knuckles turning white from the pressure.

She screamed again, "Answer me!"

Nadir immediately grabbed Christine by the waist and pulled her away from the doctor, who had turned as white as a sheet by Christine's unexpected outburst. The Persian held Christine as hysterical sobs wracked her fatigued body.

She kept whispering, "He can't die…He can't die."

Nadir looked at the doctor and asked, despair and grief evident in his calm voice, "Isn't there any hope?"

The doctor slowly shook his head, "I'm afraid not. Only a miracle can save him now."

Madame Giry had become deathly pale, as if all the blood had been drained from her body. She collapsed in a nearby chair. Her eyes were moist and filled with disbelief and grief, but she wouldn't cry. She wouldn't allow herself to cry.

Meg rushed to her mother's side and knelt by her chair. She took her mother's hand and asked worriedly, and in shock, "Maman, are you all right?"

"Don't worry, ma cherie, I'll be fine," Madame replied, her voice wavering slightly but as reassuring as she could be.

Christine suddenly pulled away from Nadir, as she turned to face the doctor.

"He will not die. I won't allow it!" Christine exclaimed fiercely.

As soon as the words left her mouth, Christine let out a cry of pain. Her hands flew to her stomach. Suddenly, stains of blood started appearing on her dress, by her upper legs.

"The baby!" Christine cried out in dread, before she collapsed completely, as Nadir caught her in his arms.

Yes, life sometimes gives us everything we've ever dreamed of, only to take it away from us in an instant. And yet, behind every storm there is a sun, behind every cloud there is a ray of light. There is always hope, and hope keeps us alive.

Somewhere, deep inside the universe of his dying heart, Erik listened.

Little Lotte, thought of everything and nothing, her father promised her that he would send her the angel of music…her father promised her…her father promised her…