This chapter is a tad depressing. I do hope you'll hold on with me through these more angsty chapters, as I have some exciting things planned for this phic. As always, thank you for your wonderful and encouraging reviews.

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Christine was forced to watch almost the exact same scene play out in front of her, only this time she was sitting on the couch with her knees hugged up to her chest. The reports of another attempt at a hostage negotiation had not come in until early that morning, and she had stayed at home with the television on for the rest of the day. It was currently evening in London and therefore difficult to even get a clear view. All she could see were a few cars and a white van parked in front of a decrepit brick building. A few men in black uniforms and bulletproof vests had climbed out of the vehicles and were standing on the street with a bullhorn.

"We know very little about what's happening down there," stated the middle-aged anchorman as he shuffled through his papers. "Only that some kind of meeting is taking place in another attempt to rescue famed singer Carlotta Glouer. The police have kept this quiet, and so we're left to believe that it's a complex operation."

"Yes," agreed a younger female reporter in London. "We can only guess that some of the city's finest task forces are out here today. They're used to handling about everything from armed robberies to terrorism. Considering the unusual and dangerous methods of the kidnapper, though, police say that they need all the help they can get."

"It would seem so," replied the anchorman. "While we're waiting to see if this attempt actually amounts to anything, let's talk about the history behind this. Is it safe to say that this case is still mostly shrouded in mystery?"

"Yes, Tom," she replied. "It really is. We don't know much about the kidnapper's motives beyond the fact that he wants his cohort out of prison. Of course, there's also a possible connection to the death of millionaire James Lawrence and the kidnapping of the young couple last spring."

"Any more insight into that?" asked the anchorman.

Christine prayed that they knew absolutely nothing.

"I'm afraid not," replied the reporter. "Our best guess right now is that this is just the work of a psychopath with some sort of strange vendetta against society."

Christine rubbed her temples in frustration, wishing that she knew more about Erik's motives. It would be easier to listen to this if she could understand his hatred. Psychopath. Madman. Monster. Fiend. The cruel labels flew out at her from the television and the radio on a daily basis. It was both strange and horrible to know that they were talking about the man who had taught her to sing…with whom she had spent long hours immersed in quiet conversation, whom she had gently kissed, whom she loved. At the same time, she knew that more people had died at Erik's hands, possibly men with wives and children.

Still, she prayed for his safety. Every time another policeman stepped forward or someone climbed out of a car, she flinched. Each passing minute was agonizing. If this could all end, this death and terror and revenge, if he would just come back to me…

Was that too much to ask for?

Stupid little girls and their happy endings...

Several minutes ticked by.

"Well, I'm afraid that it looks like yet another dead end," said the anchorman with an expression of disgust. "According to police, the building is empty. More frustration for the city's authorities, and more pain for Ms. Glouer's family."

Christine watched as the cars and van began to form a line, before slowly driving away from the brick building, their headlights illuminating the roads and structures. Her throbbing heart slowing began to calm down. She was both relieved that this incident was over and frightened by the thought that more of them would follow. A feeling of helplessness again descended over her. She nearly wished that she could stop caring, could let him go and get on with her life. Nearly every moment of her time was spent fretting over whether he was still alive. For all she knew, he would never come back.

But she couldn't stop caring. And if someone had given her a plane ticket and a passport at that moment, she would have grabbed a suitcase and flown to London.

She started to get up and do some more packing. Sorting through all her old possessions was somewhat calming and allowed her to focus on something else for at least a few hours. The house hadn't officially been sold, but there were several people who had expressed interest. She wanted to get everything out of there before she headed back to Boston.

As she turned to go into the kitchen to begin packing some silverware, the previous anchorman's voice cut into the current broadcast. "Excuse me, Anna. We're going to jump back in here. There's more breaking news out of London."

With wide eyes, Christine flew back to the couch and focused on the screen, her fingers digging into the cushioned armrest. At first, she could see nothing but a mass of grayness and briefly wondered if something was wrong with the television picture. And then she understood. The entire view was obscured by thick clouds of gray and white smoke. As the camera focused out, she could see that the plumes were limited to a large section of the road. The smoke was thick enough to block out the light from the streetlamps, thereby encasing the buildings and streets in complete darkness.

"I can't even begin to tell you what's going on," said the anchorman. "Except that this is definitely not the famed London fog. We have one report of an explosion but nothing yet confirmed. We're watching with the rest of you and trying to get information as it comes in."

"Oh my God," muttered Christine to herself, feeling her hands begin to tremble.

"All right," said the anchorman. "We've got our reporter back on the line. Do we know if this is something caused by law enforcement?"

"If the police did do this, they gave no warning to the media," she replied.

"Can you see what's going on down there?"

"Occasionally, I can see someone running through the smoke. All of us in the press are keeping a distance right now, though." There was a very long pause as the smoke continued to rise. "That was a gunshot!" the woman suddenly exclaimed, glancing backward. "I heard a couple of shots fired down there."

"No!" yelped Christine. She stared into the grey clouds, only able to occasionally make out the faint silhouettes of people racing around on the ground.

"We now have reports of some injuries," stated the anchorman. "Whether it's from the gunfire or smoke inhalation or something else entirely is impossible to say as of right now. More ambulances are on their way to the scene." A pause. "I have no reports of structural damage or flames, and so I'm hesitant to say if there was a large explosion involved."

Christine jumped at the sound of the high-pitched ring of the telephone. After steadying herself, she answered. "Hello," she numbly murmured.

"Christine," her ex-fiancé stated, his voice laced with worry. "Are you watching it?"

"Yeah," she softly replied, still transfixed by the images.

"It's terrible, isn't it? Can you believe this?"

"Yeah," she replied. "I guess we'll just have to see what happens." It was comforting to hear a familiar and warm voice, but she didn't want to give anything away in her current state of panic.

"Do you think he's responsible?"

"I don't know, Raoul."

"I don't even want to guess what the death toll's going to be. Or what's happened to Frederick's niece."

Christine didn't reply, continuing to listen to the television. Raoul also became silent as they both waited for the smoke to clear and to see what was hidden beneath it. The ground slowly became more visible. She saw some people still running around with flashlights in hand, and a few souls were lying on the ground. Were they injured or dead? What if one of them was Erik? She took a shaky breath.

"We have gotten a new report," gravely stated the anchorman. Christine gripped the edges of the couch. "Our sources tell us that the prisoner in the hostage exchange, Mr. Nadir Khan, has disappeared from the scene. We are still verifying the information, but it appears that the prisoner may be gone."

It took her a moment to understand. If Nadir had escaped, then that meant…

A soft cry of joy escaped Christine's lips, and tears of relief formed at the corners of her eyes. Raoul took her reaction to be one of distress. "I know!" he exclaimed. "I can't believe he got away again. This is crazy. They didn't even get Carlotta back!"

She continued to stare at the T.V. screen with renewed hope as the police desperately searched the fading smoke for Mr. Khan. Of course, he was completely gone. As her heartbeat began to slow down, she attempted to calm her friend. "Raoul," she softly began, hiding the happiness and relief in her voice. "Whatever happens over there doesn't matter. He doesn't care about you…or us anymore. He let us go, remember?"

"I want it all to end," he replied. "I'm not going to sleep in peace knowing that he's still out there. And Carlotta! Frederick must be going crazy. It's like a nightmare that won't end."

Christine sighed. "Maybe Carlotta will be okay. We'll have to wait and see. But you're going to be fine."

"You don't think he'll try to come back here?"

"No," she gently replied. At the bottom of the screen, the station stated that there were six injuries, one of them extremely critical. So far, there had been no deaths.

"Christine? You don't think he might try to finish the job?"

"No. I think you're going to be fine. I think that you're safe."

"What about you?" he softly asked.

Christine blinked, wondering if he knew something. The question had seemed innocent, though. "I'm going to be fine, too." She paused. "Maybe you should get some sleep. You sound really tired."

"Yeah. Maybe so."

"Take care."

"You, too."

Christine hung up the phone and leaned back into the cushions. They were now showing prison photos of Nadir upon the screen, hoping that city-dwellers would recognize him. Police were frantically searching the entire area.

It suddenly occurred to her that this wasn't going to get better, at least not for a very long time. Still, at least she could breathe a little easier that night. The knowledge that Nadir was now with Erik was somehow comforting. At least he wasn't alone.

After waiting for a few more moments to ensure that no more breaking news came in, she got up and went to her father's desk. Pulling the stack of papers out and laying them on the tabletop, she grabbed a pen and took another step forward, a cold wave of resolve partially numbing the ever-present fear and anxiety.

Disappointment had overtaken Nadir as the cars and van had turned around to leave. No one had been inside the building. The police had called up to the top floors, announcing their willingness to negotiate and exchange prisoners. They had desperately pled with Erik to not harm Carlotta and told him that they were following his demands. There had been no response. As darkness had neared, the authorities had given up and decided to leave.

Nadir had stared out the window of the vehicle, feeling a heaviness in his chest as he thought of returning to that tiny prison cell. This was probably the last time he would be out again until his trial. The shackles jingled as he shifted his legs for comfort. Looking into the shadows that passed by the window, he swore that he saw another flash of yellow, but maybe it was wishful thinking. He had laid his head back on the uncomfortable leather headrest and closed his eyes, attempting to mentally escape the dismal situation.

Just as he had started to fall into a light doze, the van had stopped. "What's going on up there?" the driver had asked into his two-way radio.

"Something is wrong with the vehicle," replied the driver of the leading car. "Go around us."

"All right." The van started to move forward, before stopping after only a few meters. "Now what?" the driver asked with frustration.

"Something's wrong with the vehicle," replied a different voice. "Engine troubles or something."

"I know. I thought we were going around them."

"That was the first car. This is now in the second car, Sir. Both cars are having problems."

"What?"

Nadir had opened his eyes and bent his neck to look outside as the officers attempted to sort out the problems. He sniffed the air, smelling a faint and bitter odor coming through the heaters. The smell grew stronger, and he could hear the officers up front begin to cough. It was quickly growing darker, so much so that Nadir couldn't even see two feet into the distance. He suddenly realized that large clouds of smoke were filling the air. A deep booming noise from nearby caused the van to vibrate.

Two of the officers had jumped out of the vehicle, holding their breaths and reaching for their weapons. Fearing suffocation, Nadir desperately searched for some kind of escape from the backseat, his throat beginning to burn. The front seat was barred off from him. "Open the door!" he yelled to the only officer that was still visible. He was either unheard or ignored. Nadir began to try to open the side door with his cuffed hands, horrible fumes engulfing his nostrils.

"Calm down, Mr. Khan!" yelled the officer, noticing his struggle. The uniformed man held up a gun with a frantic expression on his face. "Remain seated!"

"But I-"

"Stay where you are!" he screamed, readying the firearm. Nadir flinched backward to avoid winding up with a bullet in his heart. Suddenly, the officer's eyes widened with horror. He immediately dropped the weapon and began to claw at his neck, struggling to breathe the polluted air. After only a moment, his face paled and his eyes rolled back into his skull. He finally collapsed beside the van.

Nadir sat there staring in shock. His door was soon unlocked and opened, and he looked up to see two little golden lights glowing down at him through the grey plumes. Completely clad in black, his masked comrade might have passed for a policeman in the smoke and darkness. At the moment, no one else was there. "Erik," he whispered, thankfully.

"I believe that it is time for us to leave," calmly stated the familiar tenor voice "Avoid breathing."

"I am shackled," Nadir rasped. "My wrists and ankles."

Erik took a sharp object from his pocket and knelt down. Within seconds, he had the shackles and handcuffs picked off and laying on the ground in a silver heap. An echoing gunshot went off somewhere, and another one soon followed. The yellow eyes glowed. "Run directly left," he stated. "Then down a flight of stairs. You will be able to see by that time. Follow me. Do not slow down."

Nadir nodded, and they took off into the smoke. Several more shots were fired. Erik ran at a slower pace than he was capable of, which allowed Nadir to keep up with him. Adrenaline pushed them both forward as they pounded down a flight of metal stairs. The air became even colder. They ran upstairs, downstairs, into a dirty basement…through several vacant office complexes and what appeared to be the corridors of a school.

At one point, they passed a nighttime cleaning woman in one of the office buildings. She was younger, her blonde hair done up in a messy bun. Letting out a sharp gasp, she dropped a mop and threw herself against the wall. To Nadir's surprise, Erik stopped and stared at her for several seconds. The woman's blue eyes widened in horror, and Nadir was certain that Erik was going to kill her for merely being a witness. After a moment, though, his Erik reluctantly tore his gaze away from the woman and continued to move forward, much to both her and Nadir's relief.

They were soon outside again, running through a puddle-filled alley and over cracked asphalt. A few sirens wailed in the distance. Nadir's lungs were beginning to burn from the exertion, and he slowed down significantly as a sharp cramp formed in his side. "Move," rasped Erik. "We are near."

Taking a deep breath of air, Nadir forced himself forward, stumbling over a broken glass bottle and dodging behind a chain link fence. They ran down another flight of concrete stairs and were soon encased in even more darkness. Erik jumped down a short ledge and onto a set of iron tracks, before climbing up the other side. Realizing where they were, Nadir quickly did the same, wincing as he roughly hit the ground. Caves of concrete now surrounded him, with only a few lamps to light the way. In the distance, there was a deep rumbling noise.

"The subway tunnels," Nadir murmured, looking around. "Amazing. We should have done that originally." Erik didn't reply, continuing forward and through several more twists and turns of brick walls and stairwells. Finally, he abruptly stopped at an old platform, his back still toward Nadir and his thin shoulders heaving. "Is this it?"

Erik nodded once, before leaning back against the wall and gesturing to their surroundings. "It is the best for now," he stated, his breath slightly ragged. "And there are several escape routes if someone attempts to come down. The echoes are ideal for hearing intruders."

Nadir took a long and deep breath as it all slowly sunk in. He was free. "Excellent." He shook his head as his heartbeat slowly calmed, beginning to feel an ache in his legs from running. "Well, I do not know what took you so long, but…I am grateful. It is good to be out." Erik said nothing. Nadir noticed a strange glint in his friend's eyes. He couldn't identify it except to say that it wasn't the normal cold indifference.

A soft groan came from behind one of the doors. "Is someone else there?" cried out a woman.

Nadir winced and sighed. At least Ms. Glouer was still alive. He wondered what Erik's plans for her were. He would at least check on her condition, and perhaps attempt to convince Erik to let her live. Nadir was tired of death.

"That woman is near to being strangled," muttered Erik, still staring down at the tracks. "Perhaps you will have more luck silencing her, before I permanently do."

"Maybe so," replied Nadir, continuing to study his friend. "Where exactly have you been all this time?"

Erik sickly chuckled, tilting his head back against the brick wall. "Ah, Nadir! I have been asking myself that question for weeks."

Nadir frowned. "You don't know where you've been?"

"No."

"Well, have you been in London? Or…?"

"I told you that I do not know!" Erik snapped, before suddenly falling back against the wall with a sharp intake of breath. Nadir dared to walk closer, squinting down at his comrade with concern. He could barely see the stain. The expanding circle was nearly invisible on the black pants leg of Erik's suit. "What?" he snarled as Nadir hunched down beside him. Mr. Khan could hear clear distress in his voice; he could hear pain.

"Erik," began Nadir, attempting to keep calm. "I think that you have been injured."