Eep! I forgot the disclaimer last time! *hides* Anyway, I don't own POTO, etc.

Chapter 2

"Stop pounding on the door like that! It's rude!" Raoul said.

Erik glared at him. "You're concerned about politeness at a time this? My Chris—ah, that is, your fiancé is missing. Do you know what a daroga is, you silly fop?"

Raoul shook his head.

"An investigator, my dear boy." Erik stopped his incessant rapping on the door and stepped back.

"Thank you," Raoul said.

Erik sighed and started walking towards the back of the building.

"Where are you going?" Raoul asked.

"Stay there!"

"But—"

"Stay there!"

Raoul glumly obeyed. He hated feeling helpless, and he always felt helpless around this Erik. He leaned against the wall and tried to rationalize the situation.

Just then, the door opened and Erik let Raoul in.

"Well, where is your friend?" Raoul asked.

"He's not my friend; apparently, he isn't home either."

"Poot," Raoul muttered.

"'Poot?' My God, boy, at least swear like a man!"

The young man's cheeks turned a slight shade of red. "Why are you always yelling at me? You could at least behave like a gentleman."

"And you could stop whining like a child."

"All I want is to help Christine; that's all I ever wanted! I want her to be happy…and I want to be happy with her. Don't you understand that?"

Erik stiffened. "Have you ever thought, for a moment, that is not what I also wanted? Do you really take me for a monster?" The he laughed coldly. "Of course you do! Everyone does! Why should you be any different? Even Christine…But you need my help, whether you like it or not. I'd rather Christine be with you and safe than…" He trailed off, not wanting to think of what could have happened.

After a few moments, Raoul asked shyly, "You mean that? You really just want her to be safe?"

Before Erik could answer, the owner of the apartment came in.

"What…are you doing…Erik and Monsieur le Vicomte?"

"Oh! The Persian!" Raoul exclaimed.

Erik resisted the urge to slap him, and instead turned to his acquaintance. "Mlle. Daaè has disappeared from the vicomte's residence."

"Are you sure she isn't shopping in Paris?"

"I never thought of…" Raoul started.

"We're sure," Erik cut him off.

"Well, where do you think she would go?" the daroga asked.

"I don't know!" Raoul exclaimed.

"We don't even know the reason she left…" Erik mumbled.

"Well, I can only suggest that Monsieur le Vicomte report her disappearance to the proper authorities."

"They're useless," Raoul said.

"You want to go look for her?" the daroga asked Erik.

"Yes."

"Would she go back to Sweden?" Raoul wondered aloud.

"No!" the daroga snapped abruptly.

Both men starred at him. "I mean…why would she go back there, where there are so many painful memories? I think…your fiancé may be in England. Perhaps she just needed to get away from Paris."

"Thank you. Come along, Monsieur de Changy."

Raoul obediently followed Erik out of the Persian's apartment.

"So…we shall go to England? I can secure you a private cabin so no one will see…"

"We're going to Sweden," Erik announced.

"But he said she wouldn't be there."

"He's lying. Be ready to leave in three days. I trust you can pack yourself? I need to speak with him further."

"But why would he lie?"

"If I knew, I wouldn't have to ask him, would I?"

"Um…I guess not…"

Erik sighed. "Speak of this to no one, understand?"

"I suppose…I just don't understand…"

"Raoul, when have you ever understood anything?"