~ March 1910 ~

Erik's heartbeat had slowed to almost a crawl. A lifetime passed between each dull thud. Ice seemed to be filling his veins and a dark storm clouded his mind.

A piece of paper was gripped in his hand, a piece of paper that shattered his world.

We have your wife, read the printed words. Bring 20,000 francs to the fork in the river by 6 tonight if you want to see her again. If you do not come, or if the police get involved, we will start sending body parts.

People didn't threaten Erik. Erik did the threatening, he put the fear of God into others. He was not sent menacing letters, ordering him around and exploiting him. He did not stare disbelievingly at the paper, his life cracking as he froze.

The note slipped between his rigid fingers to the ground. The world should have rung with sound as it touched the carpet, for it carried such weight and magnitude. It should have burned through the floor as it burned his mind.

"Father?"

Erik turned slowly, knowing that the instant anyone else knew, he would have to admit this was real. He realised his mistake in hesitation, however, when he watched Matthieu approach in his peripheral vision and immediately pick up the paper he had dropped. There was no way to soften the blow now, no way to protect his son.

A choked sound escaped Matthieu as he read the note, and when he raised his eyes, Erik saw them widen first with fear then darken with rage. Anger was not an expression he was used to seeing on the boy's face, and it looked both disturbingly alien and worryingly familiar.

"Who… who would do this?" the boy managed after a few moments.

Erik shook his head slowly, every movement seeming painful and difficult. Perhaps, if he stayed still enough, if he did his best to freeze time, the thing he dreaded would not be real.

"We're going to get Mother back though, aren't we?" Matthieu's eyes were wide once more, pleading and darting, but his tone retained the tension of anger. "Father!"

"I'll get her back," Erik said at last, his voice dull and hollow to his own ears. "I won't let… I swore I'd keep her safe."

"Then let's go! We need to talk to the police, get someone to track her down -"

"No!" he snapped quickly. "They said no police; I will not risk your mother's well-being for the bumbling incompetence of what passes for a police officer." He shook his head, the world still in slow-motion before his eyes. He swallowed hard, finally setting his shoulders and raising his chin. "I'll get her back myself."

Abruptly, Erik turned from his son and strode to retrieve a small box he had hidden in the room, plans already whirring in his mind. He needed to make some preparations here, then he should have time to draw money from the bank and make it to the designated point well before the deadline. It had only just gone midday now - Celeste had gone into town this morning, but instead of her return, the note had been the only thing to come through the door.

Matthieu was talking behind him, but it took a few moments before the words were translated and absorbed into Erik's preoccupied mind.

"I'm going to come with you, I can help you fight."

Erik's head jerked around to look at his son again, noticing his fisted hands and agitated pacing. "What? No!"

The boy scowled, the expression worryingly dark on his young face. "I wasn't asking."

"Don't be ridiculous," Erik snapped, his voice harsher than he intended as fear of losing his child as well gripped his heart. "Your mother needs our help, but I'm not putting you in danger to achieve that."

"I'm not a baby," Matthieu said in a low voice, his jaw clenching - a tic Erik recognised from himself.

"I know that." He forced some calm back into his voice, walking back to his son and resting his hands on the boy's shoulders, forcing him to look up. "I know you're brave and strong, and you want to fight for your mother. But she would never forgive me if anything bad happened to you - I wouldn't forgive myself. Besides," he added as Matthieu continued to scowl. "There's a chance they're drawing me out so they can try to steal from the house. I need you to stay here and guard it, and protect your sister. I can't let either of you get hurt."

It wasn't entirely a lie - it was at least a possibility that people would come here - but he would have said anything to keep his son out of harm's way. Plus, he knew from his own tendencies that treating Matthieu like a child rather than the young man he was becoming would only backfire, pushing him towards doing something rash and dangerous.

His careful request seemed to work, because Matthieu nodded slowly, some of the fire fading from his eyes. "What should I tell Belle?"

"Just say that Mother's in some trouble, but I'm going to help her and we'll be back soon. Make sure you both have some food and get enough sleep if I'm not home by this evening. Stay in the house, don't open the door to anyone but me and don't answer the phone. If anyone does come, your priority should be to keep yourself and Belle safe - possessions can be replaced, but you two can't."

Matthieu nodded again, starting to blink rapidly. "Mama's going to be okay, isn't she?" he asked in a trembling voice, suddenly looking like the scared twelve-year-old he was beneath the anger and bravado.

"Of course," Erik said immediately, his voice smooth and calm as he pulled his son into a hug. Matthieu's arms tightened around his waist, a tremor running through his body. Erik kissed the top of his head, praying his son would find the right balance between the fear of a youth and the rashness of a man.

He could have stayed there forever, his son safe in his arms, drawing his own strength from the love he felt and was given. But they didn't have forever, and time was of the essence.

Erik stepped back after a minute, wiping away the tears that escaped from Matthieu's eyes and brushing off his own. "Be brave, and keep Belle safe," he reiterated. "I'll be back with your mother soon."

Matthieu nodded and drew back, wiping his cheeks again and turning towards the door, heading to find his sister and relay the news.

Erik waited until his son's footsteps had faded, then moved to the wardrobe and lifted a box from the bottom, buried beneath bags and clutter. It was a box that Celeste knew existed, but never mentioned, a skeleton hidden but kept in case of emergency. And this was an emergency.

He hadn't spoken of it or even acknowledged its existence in years, but he always knew exactly where it was and what was stored in it. It was like a dark anchor, something always linking part of him to the darker side of his past. He had considered disposing of it several times, but had never quite managed to bring himself to do it. Perhaps that said something about the darkness still hiding away in his heart, but now wasn't the time to get lost in philosophy.

Erik located the key tucked away inside a desk drawer, his heart sinking a little as he unlocked the box. He had hoped to never open it again, to hide it away and never lay eyes on it. IF only he could lock away the past like that.

With a deep sigh, he lifted out his old Punjab lasso, the feel of the rope still familiar in his hand. Next was a small set of throwing knives, which he had refrained from using against people at the Opera House. Their edges were still sharp, however, their weight and balance still lingering in his memory. Last came a series of bottles, safely sealed and each labelled with a symbol only Erik knew the meaning of. They ranged from mild irritants and dyes to drugs and poisons, and he selected only two. He needed to be as well armed as possible, but a killing spree would not be good for the life he had built here.

What about that life without Celeste in it? a cruel voice whispered in his mind, but he fought against the despair that threatened to claim him.

There would be time for fear later, for grief and self-pity, but for now there could only be calm. Even anger had to be cold and restrained, used to heighten his determination rather than derail his mind. He could not afford a slip.

I can cry later, he told himself firmly. I can break later, when she's back in my arms, safe and well. Now is the time for action.

Mind set and weapons concealed, Erik gathered the bag and his coat, and strode out of the house, eyes set with dark purpose.