MW: (drags Angelina out behind her as she hums along to the CD with tape over her mouth) I had to stop her, the whole idea of her just singing Les Mis lines over and over was driving me up the wall.
A: (rips the tape off) One more day 'til Revolution! We will nip it in the bud!
MW: (clasps her mouth shut) Sorry everyone – she's a bit Javert obsessed and she's having mental problems due to - points to Erik Bear and Sherlock Bear in the devices so, on with the show!
Wandering Children – Chapter 9 - Shadows of the Past
"Dearest Aidan,
I want to assure you I am unassailable at the present moment. I am conveying this letter from a disclosed location. It distresses me that I should have to be telling you this, but if you would ever like to set your eyes on me again you will come to the café de lune, Mercredi à six heures. If you do not come at the designated location at the specified time I fear that we shall never see each other again.
In addition I am being provided for and you will not hear from me again until after Wednesday. In the envelope is enclosed a small wallet sized portrait of myself just incase you fail to ever observe me again in person you shall always have that little photograph to remind you of what you have forfeited.
Lovingly yours,
Jessamine"
Aidan read the letter over and over again. After finding it backstage early that morning he hadn't opened it until the mid-afternoon. To think, Nadir accused her of skipping rehearsal to go and steal! The envelope was not addressed in her handwriting, but in a more elegant script.
His chest tightened as he looked over the sentences and then the picture. He looked into the lifeless picture, her eyes were the same shade of blue, but it didn't do her presence justice. He began to breathe quickly and had to stagger over to the table on stage to hold his balance. It was only the day before she was giving them stage orders and now she was gone and obviously being forced to write letters that were much to pompous to be her own writing.
It took him quite a few moments to regain some of his composure and to be able to think properly. He ran his hand down his face and neck before making his way to his mother's dressing room. He quickly passed Nadir, not even paying him much notice, since he had other things on his mind. Descending down the stairs two and three steps at a time he didn't care if he tripped or fell, whatever got him there faster was what he was going to do. "Mama! Papa!" he yelled as he got off the last step.
Instead of seeing his parents right away, Christine came out of her room and looked up at her brother. The worried look on his face made her curious, but nervous at the same time. She had never seen him so pale, except from the night he revealed his secret to Cosette. She tried to stop him but he forged ahead completely ignoring Christine's concerned façade.
"Mama! Papa! Where are you?" he asked agitatedly. The two of them stepped out of the kitchen and looked at their obviously nervous son. "Read this," he thrust the letter to them. Erika took it first and quickly looked over it, a sympathetic look crossed her face as James took it from her, "We need to find her," Aidan said trying to remain calm, but still breathing heavily
"This could be a trap," James pointed out. "We don't even know if it was really her who sent this."
Aidan rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, "Yes I do, look it's her handwriting," he compared the two pieces, almost identical except the letter was shaky. "Now you tell me, if Mama were whisked away and forced to write a letter to you, possibly having her life on the line would you sit back and wait?"
"I know how you feel Aidan, and when I was your age I probably would have jumped head first into it, but now I know, there's some risk involved, especially with the Yardies here," James could see the hurt on his son's face, but he couldn't permit him to run about Paris putting them all in danger.
Before Aidan could respond to his father Erika spoke up, "Aidan," she put her hand on his shoulder, "Don't worry, we will find her. It will just take some time. Please, don't worry." Aidan sighed, half with understanding and then half with disgust. He walked to his room with heavy steps. When he slammed the door shut he sat at his desk. Laying the letter down on the desk he rested his head on his arms and closed his eyes. Hunched over he looked like he was writing when a delicate knock fell upon the door.
He didn't say anything as both Christine and Michael stepped into the room, "Aidan," she whispered, "Are you okay?" her voice was tinged with concern as she approached her brother.
"Go away," he murmured. "Leave me alone." Aidan looked up at them with a hard gaze as they made no movement to leave.
"Come on," Michael sighed, "What happened? It can't be that bad."
Aidan jumped up from the chair and looked his brother in the eyes. "Not that bad?! Not that bad?! What do you know? Well, unlike your precious little Yardie friend someone worth anyone's time has been kidnapped!" Michael and Christine's faces went white. "Yes, that's right! Jessamine is gone and the only thing we know is this," he threw the letter at them. "Now please, can you now honestly tell me that it can't be that bad!?" he screamed at Michael.
Michael, now speechless just backed up towards the door. Christine whispered, "I'm sorry Aidan, but you know that we won't let her get hurt." As Christine spoke Michael picked up the letter and read it to himself.
"That's simple for one to say, but for one to do it, that's a different story!" Aidan sat back down and ran his hands through his hair as he nervously tapped his foot.
Michael tried to lift the spirits in the room, "Aidan, you know Jessamine has spunk, she'll be fine. After all, look at what she did to Dante at the Masquerade."
"You don't understand do you?" Aidan remarked, "You don't realize that she's in obvious danger. I can't believe you can make light of this situation!" he said as he walked out of the room and up to the stage.
Christine watched their brother walk away defeated. Christine went to follow him but Michael stopped her. She glared at him until Michael was sure they were alone.
"He needs time alone." Michael told her, "Besides we need to help well."
"Like what?" Christine asked.
"One lets read this letter in a better light, maybe we can uncover a clue." Michael smiled at his sister.
Christine chewed her lip nervously, "Do you think we should let the other two know what is going on?"
"They could help. And it might distract them from their current investigation to give me more time to completely cover our tracks." Michael nodded, "I hear they are really looking the theater over."
"Should we wait for them to come here or should we go to them?"
"Let's go to them. It would look more urgent. Go get your cloak. I'll meet you by the Rue Scribe Exit."
Christine nodded as she headed to her room to get her cloak. Michael looked at the letter again. He wasn't sure why but he had heard some of these phrases used before, he just wasn't sure where. Gradually he folded up the letter and put it away in his coat pocket. Moving quickly he headed up to the Rue Scribe exit.
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As Aidan reached the top of the steps he noticed Krissy, Nadir, and Buquet walked along the backstage, "I told you that she wouldn't be a good edition to the stage crew. I told you but did you listen? No, no one ever listens to me!"
"It was only one day," Krissy defended, "besides, I can name quite a few times where you left Danesh waiting for you when you were late."
Nadir grimaced at his boyfriend's lack of discretion. "Even so, she missed a whole day of work, without even calling in!" Nadir pointed out, "none of us have ever missed a day of work without calling in."
"Don't be so sure of that," Buquet said, "Just because she missed one day of work we shouldn't penalize her. After all, Jess is new here."
"For all we know that little thief is out robbing innocents. She's a menace, a real she-devil!" Nadir said, getting increasingly frustrated with his colleague's utter disregard for his opinion.
At the sound of her name and Nadir's mouthing off Aidan stepped forward, "Is that what you think Nadir?" Aidan asked, his lip curling and his fists clenching. "Because if so you are entirely wrong."
"Oh then where is she Aidan?" Nadir asked defiantly.
"That's the problem!" Aidan yelled, "I don't know! She's gone, kidnapped, taken away and I can't do anything to help her! So, do you still hold her in low regards Nadir?" Nadir stared at Aidan dumbfounded.
"What do you mean kidnapped? Do you have any idea where she is?" Krissy immediately burst in, and then turned to Nadir, "Yes, she's stealing alright, more like stolen!" Then, bringing her gaze back to Aidan "Is there any information on who might have taken her?"
Buquet stammered at a loss for words. His heart beat fiercely and he grabbed onto one of the ropes to steady himself. "You're joking right Aidan, she's not really gone. She's with you right?" he asked not believing that she was really gone.
"Maybe now that she's been stolen she'll think twice about stealing next time," Nadir remarked. Krissy gave him a disgusted look and drew back her fist. She threw her fist at Nadir and hit him in the eye. He looked at her shocked and put his hand on his swelling eye.
Aidan looked at Nadir outraged, "How can you talk about the woman I love like that?!" The expression on Nadir's face went from shock to dismay as his knees weakened and he fell to the ground. His eyes rolled back as he hit the hard wood.
Krissy stood there, angry at Nadir and sympathetic towards Aidan. Buquet staggered away still trying to grasp the concept that Jessamine was missing. Krissy looked to Aidan offering a reassuring glance and went after Buquet holding him up as he shook his head. As soon as they were out of sight Aidan squatted near Nadir's head and tapped on his cheek, "Nadir, they're gone."
Nadir slowly came to and sat up. "About damn time, I forgot Krissy had one hell of a right hook," he sighed touching the raw area underneath his eye. "Support by opposition is not always the best way to help someone, look at what it can do."
"Yea," Aidan said disappointed. "You might want to get some ice for that," he pointed to the eye, "It'll only get worse if you don't." His voice was only half-hearted without any conviction.
Nadir sighed heavy heartedly and leaned against one of the machines backstage. "Aidan, if there's anything Danesh or I could do we'll be sure to help out."
"Thanks," he murmured pulling the picture out of his pocket. "This is what I have left Uncle Nadir," he showed it to him. "I'll be back soon," he said walking away, "if Mama or Papa needs me I'll be on the roof."
Nadir nodded as he disappeared up the stairs. "Dear Allah give me strength," he sighed heading towards Erika's dressing room. "This is going to be tough news to break."
Nadir cautiously walked into the underground house. James was on the video phone with Fenwick. Erika paced back and forth as she listened to James conversation. Every so often, she would add something. Nadir cleared his throat catching their attention. Erika walked up to him.
"I see that you know." Nadir observed.
"Yes, James is having Fenwick spread the words that he is willing to buy any relevant information that pertains to her disappearance." Erika informed him, "I'm worried, Nadir."
"I am too. Aidan is beside himself."
"This was done to specifically hurt him. I know it." Erika stated firmly, "I refuse to let them hurt my family."
Nadir sighed as he hugged his best friend, "I know. Trust me, Erika, I know. These are my godchildren we are talking about. We will protect them."
James stood up and walked over to the two. Erika pulled away and joined her husband side. James pulled her close and stroked her hair lovingly. Nadir stood a little straighter as they regarded each other. Right now, they had the same agenda to protect their family.
"Fenwick is spreading the word." James told them.
"I place Akeem and myself at your disposal." Nadir bowed, "Your son is sulking on the roof."
"I can't believe how worked up he is getting over one girl. I thought he swore off of women after Cosette." James grumbled.
"He admitted that he's in love with her." Nadir remarked casually, "And he is acting that way as well."
Erika smiled softly at the news while James felt shock for a brief second. After he looked at his son's behavior lately, things began to make sense. He smiled gently at Nadir.
"Really? Well, that explains a lot of thing." James grinned, "It seems we need to work extra hard to get her back."
Erika suddenly realized something, "Nadir, Has anyone seen Dante?"
"No. I don't recall see him around lately." Nadir remembered as he his brow furrowed in concentration, "In fact he has been very scarce recently."
"I think he needs a tail." Erika smiled, "See what Akeem can do."
"Of course. Will we have more detectives involved with this?" Nadir smiled.
"NO!" James shouted, "I forbid it."
Erika placed a hand over James's mouth and replied, "Not just yet. As soon as we know more, I will inform them."
"Very well, my Phantom." Nadir bowed again and walked out the way he came.
"I won't have them here, Erika. I refuse to have them here." James warned her.
"And if this proves to be more than we can handle? What then?" Erika shot back, "I promise not to bring them unless we really need them."
"I would prefer them not to be here at all."
"I know. Let's see if we can find any clues topside." Erika sighed as she led her husband towards one of the many exits in her house. James nodded as he let her led him away.
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Michael waited for a few minutes until Christine came up to the Rue Scribe. "Do you have the letter?" she asked tightening the cloak around her as the wind blew harder. He pulled it out and showed it to her but quickly stashed it back in his pocket. "Where do you think they are?" Christine asked.
"We'll go in through the front doors of the opera and see if they're inside, and if they're not we're just going to have to go around Paris looking for them," Michael decided. Christine nodded and followed Michael to the front steps of the opera.
Opening the large doors they both sighed a sigh of relief as they noticed the Holmes twins examining a door frame. After taking a deep breath they got into character and rushed over to them, "Mirielle, there's been an emergency!" Michael said in an exasperated voice, as though he had been running.
She abruptly turned around while John stayed unaffected by the goings on outside of the singular notch in the doorframe, "What is it?" she asked concerned.
Christine held out her hand and Michael handed her the letter, "Jessamine has been taken! This is all we know," she pretended to start to tear and handed Mirielle the letter.
"John, look at this," she motioned for him to come over without taking her eyes off of the paper. Her violet eyes sharply scanned the paper as she waited for John to stop lingering over the doorframe. "It's English produced paper," she mumbled, "black, ball point pen, paper-mate brand, and," she lifted the paper up towards the lights, "no watermark." She turned to Michael and Christine, "Do you have the envelope it came in?"
"Regretfully no," Michael looked at the ground, and a strand of his hair fell in his face. "That letter is it, but we knew that you two could help us. Aidan knows nothing of this so please don't mention it to him."
John grabbed the letter from Mirielle and drew the exact conclusions she did. His brows furrowed in concentration as he tried to gather information from it, but he was too concentrated on his other duties. "Mir," he turned to her, "You take Jessamine's disappearance to work on and I'll continue trying to find our thieves from the Downing Street crime," he handed her the letter.
"Okay," she muttered taking it back into her hands and reading it over once again. John then quickly spun around and looked at the door frame again. Mirielle's eyes grazed the letter and she ran her fingers over the surface to get a feel for the paper. "When was the last time anyone saw her?" Mirielle looked up from the letter.
"I saw her yesterday at rehearsal," Michael replied. Then he looked to his sister for her answer.
"That's the last time I saw her as well," Christine confessed. "Mademoiselle Mirielle, if there is anything that we can do to aid you in your investigation, please ask us."
Mirielle thought for a moment and then smiled weakly, "Merci for the offer, but you should really get back to helping your brother get through this, I'll make sure she's fine," as she started to walk outside she turned around and added, "Trust me."
Christine nodded as she stepped away from Mirielle and Michael. Mirielle would question Michael about the letter and he would answer. Christine smiled at how well they fit together. Too bad, they can't be together. Christine turned and walked to the door of the Opera House.
John watched Christine sadly walk away from Mirielle and Michael. She seemed so alone and sad. He felt torn between checking on her and continuing his investigation. Then his eyes narrowed as Dante ducked out behind Christine. John glanced at his sister as Michael showed her to the exit that the stage crew leaves by. John sighed and went after Christine and Dante.
He silently followed them to a same cemetery as before. Christine looked around nervously before going in. Dante waited a few minutes before entering. John quickly stepped up to the gate. He felt a lingering sense of foreboding as he slipped through the bars.
Christine entered her family's crypt silently. She often came here when she need to clear her head, a trait she shared with her mother. Gracefully she kneeled in front of her ancestor's marker that read Erik Noir. Christine closed her eyes in a silent prayer.
Suddenly a sense of dread washed over her. Christine's eyes snapped open and she got up alarmed. She could sense a dark presence in her family's tomb. Before she could act, pair of arms grabbed and pulled her away. Christine struggled with all her might as she watched her assailant try to press a sickly smelling cloth to her face.
Her one thought was to try and scream for help. The smell of the cloth began to make her head spin as the darkness tried to steal her sight. In a desperate attempt to free her self, Christine turned and kicked him as hard as she could. Soon she was propelled backwards and her head slammed against the stone crypt. Her world faded to black as she slid to the ground.
John passed the lingering tombstones. The last time he was here, it didn't seem to so desolate. Now he shivered at the thought of being surrounded by death. Christine didn't belong here. She was so alive to him. John quickened his pace as his worries increased. Soon he saw Dante grabbing Christine. He tried to press a cloth to her face. Christine was struggling fiercely. She twisted towards him and kneed him in the stomach. Dante threw her to the ground in rage. Christine's head hit the stone Crypt. John watched in horror as she crumpled to the ground.
Dante's face twisted in anger as he cursed the fallen singer. Determinedly he pulled an ionser from inside of his jacket and aimed at Christine. John felt his heart freeze as he watched Dante pull back the safety. Before he knew what was happening. John charged Dante and they struggled over the gun.
Christine began to stir. She looked up to see John and Dante fighting over a charged ionser. She crawled away from them, watching them in fear as they fought over the gun. In an instant the ionser went off and John fell backwards. Christine screamed as she scrambled to his side. John struggled into a sitting position. Christine supported his weight. She was relieved to see it was only a flesh wound to his shoulder.
Both of them froze as they heard Dante charge up the ionser again. John pulled Christine closer to him, trying to shield her with his body. Dante grinned at them in a sick way. Inky blackness began to creep into John's vision. As Christine trembled next to him, John fought it back as he glared at Dante.
Dante sneered, "You would protect the whore. You must ask your self is the bitch worth it?"
"She is worth a hundred of you." John bit out ready to face his fate as the blackness began to overcome his vision.
"I agree." A tenor voice added as a black figure landed in front of John and Christine.
John watched as the cloaked figure deflected the ionser blast with a simple sword. That is what Mirielle was talking about was John's last thought as he blacked out in Christine's arms.
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As she left through the back to go outside a bad feeling passed through her body. The shiver went down her spine and to her legs causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand straight. She shook it off and continue on outside. The Parisian late afternoon was like no other, no matter what anyone said, it was definitely the most beautiful city in the world.
A small sigh escaped her lips as she looked over the letter again. "Hmm. . ." she concentrated closely on the wording and phrases. "Not very modern," she remarked to herself. "A lot of unneeded words, apparently the person who dictated this is into grandeur." She continued to stroll down the street letter in hand. She turned onto a small back street, a shortcut to the hotel when she felt something behind her.
She looked over her shoulder but no one was there. She shrugged and continued walking. She still felt uneasy, but kept on walking nonetheless. Finally, as she turned once again a cold hand clasped over her mouth. She was stunned at first and then panicked. Her eyes went wide as she clasped her hands around the note in one hand and then tried to catch her assailant with the other. "Mademoiselle, please don't struggle, its quite hard to do anything nonviolent with a struggling fille in your grasps wouldn't you say?" his tone was sardonic, as was his crooked smirk.
Mirielle's eyes narrowed as she tried to break free of his grip. He grabbed the back of her neck and put her into a sleep, "Now that wasn't so hard," he mused picking her up in his arms and carrying her to his apartment. He laid her on the chair where Jessamine had been sitting the previous evening. After ten minutes of waiting Mirielle came to and looked around confused, "Mon chère, do not be surprised, you're here in my apartment, I believe the subject of your little inquiry is in the other room," he smirked deviously.
Mirielle began to put everything together, kidnapping Jessamine was a trap. He wanted to get at her too. "Okay," she said trying to remain calm, "What do you want and why do you want it?"
"Ah, you're as calm as the Thames is deep mon chère," he teased her. "If you must know, I want what's mine and I want it because it belongs to me, what it is, I'm not about to reveal so soon in this unfolding game. But as I told your spirited friend, there are provisions enough for you, as long as you do my bidding first."
"And what is that?" she asked haughtily.
He chuckled at her and then smiled throwing a pad and pen her way, "Write as I dictate to you, do no more or less and we won't have a problem. But, if you fail to obey then we shall see what fate has in store for you won't we?"
"Before I do anything," she tried to stay in a neutral attitude, despite her growing hatred for the person she didn't even know. "Tell me where we are."
"We're at 245 Lefreve Boulevard," he admitted freely. "Now, let's start it with, Brother John," she started to write but he shook his head, "no, that's too common," pondering for a moment he looked up with a glint in his eye, "Dearest brother- " His dictation continued as she wrote on and on, the letter never seeming to end, but as she scribbled her signature to the bottom she handed him the pad and pen. "Very good mon chère, now you can bring it upon yourself to go and talk with the poet, she'll be happy with some company. Besides, it isn't like you two can do anything about it anyway."
Mirielle got up and stiffly walked to the room where Jessamine sat on one of the two beds clutching her notebook with a death grip and closing her eyes. As Mirielle walked into the room and shut the door Jessamine looked up fearfully and then let out a sigh of relief. "I thought you were him," she murmured motioning towards the door.
"No," Mirielle said, "however I did give my brother a clue as to where we were. The creep out there made me write a note similar to yours, only without mentioning a picture or forfeiting anything."
"How did you manage that?" Jessamine asked, looking up at Mirielle with blurred blue eyes.
"Well, I found out we're at 245 Lefreve Boulevard, so I would darken the letters and words that came up in that order," Mirielle whispered so that the man outside wouldn't hear what she had done.
Jessamine looked at her in awe and smiled, "So that means we could possibly be saved? We won't have to stay here any longer?" She pointed to the door, "I hate him! I really do! He took me away and then forced me to write a taunting letter, please tell me Aidan is trying to find me." She looked up to Mirielle with hope flickering in her eyes. "He's doing all he can," Mirielle reassured her. "But for now we could think of some way to get out of here, or at least attempt to." She looked around the room at their assets. The room was scarlet with richly colored paintings on the wall. The carpet was the color of wine and the draperies were crushed velvet. "Well I was right about the extravagance," she murmured. On the bed there was a heavy white comforter, and then an idea struck her. She madly ripped at the comforter and underneath laid silk sheets. She smirked and rearranged the comforter to look as though it had not been touched.
"What are you thinking?" Jessamine noted the mischievous look on Mirielle's face.
Just as Mirielle was about to say something the man peeked his head through the door and smirked, "Well filles, I shall be at the market and then delivering a letter, don't get too lonely without me," he teased letting the door click dryly. Jessamine had the urge to jump on him and beat him to death, but Mirielle gave her a look that said, 'I have a plan.'
They heard him lock the front door from the outside and then quietly left the room. "Okay," Mirielle smiled, "We're going to go into his room and get to work."
"What kind of work?" Jessamine questioned, jotting a note or two down in her book.
"You'll see," Mirielle said playfully. As soon as they knew he was gone for sure they went into his room. It was even more elegant than the room they had been sentenced to stay in. The furniture was all mahogany and the room resounded with gold. Jessamine and Mirielle shuddered simultaneously. Then, Mirielle rushed over to one side of the bed and said, "Okay Jess, now you go to the other side and we'll throw the comforter off to get the sheets."
Jessamine didn't ask any questions and did as she was told. Mirielle began tying the layers of golden silk sheets together, "Here," she handed Jess the end, "start lowering it out of the window." Jessamine began lowering it until finally it hit the ground. Mirielle tied the last sheet to the bed post and then went over to the window. "I'm going to climb down, and you're going to too, got it?" she asked halfway out the window already.
"Got it," Jessamine echoed as she watched Mirielle climb down with ease.
She looked out across the street and let out a small laugh as a woman dropped her groceries and an older man gazed at Mirielle perplexed. As Mirielle got to the bottom Jess took a deep breath and started to climb out. She put the notebook in her teeth and lowered herself down. When she finally got to the ground the two girls ran back to the opera house, leaving the golden sheets flailing in the wind.
He walked back to his apartment smiling. "Now all I need is the other girl and I'll have them all," he mused to himself as he adjusted the packages to be easier to carry. Humming a soft song to himself he continued down the street. When he reached the front of the building he looked up in shock. Hanging out of the third floor window were his sheets, from his bed, "Dammit!" he yelled dropping his packages on the ground. An elderly woman stopped and looked at him in awe for cursing out loud like that. He turned to the gray haired woman and glared. She pretended to not have been looking and quickly tottered off down the street, scared that the young man was going to pull a knife out on her with that steely gaze.
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John groaned as the pain spread into his shoulder. He wanted to roll over but found himself unable to. A pair of gentle hands touched his forehead trying to soothe away his pain. John opened his eyes and smiled in Christine's face. Convinced he was in a dream, he pulled her closer and kissed her softly. God she felt so real. When she pulled away, she gave him a small smile.
"If you pulled that when my father was watching, you would be ripped to shreds despite that wound to your shoulder." she joked as she continued to check him over.
"Where am I?" John asked her.
"My family's home. The Phantom brought us here." Christine explained gently as she applied a balm to his shoulder.
John hissed in pain as it stung his wound. It was then he realized he was in nothing but his boxers. A blush crept across his cheeks as he felt Christine's gentle touch. Christine giggled at the sight of his blush.
"Don't worry," she giggled, "Michael stripped you down for me."
"Thank god." John sighed, "Have you been taking care of me this whole time?"
"Yes, with my mother's help." Christine grinned.
"You are very talented at healing." John complimented her.
Christine blushed and was about to say more when the door opened. Erika Noir entered her daughter's bedroom with more supplies. She smiled to see the young man alive and well. John stared at the similarities between the two women. How could he not see the strong resemblance between them. It was plain to see that they were mother and daughter. Erika handed her daughter the supplies.
"I brought some more bandages and herbs to help with the pain that he may be feeling." Erika informed her daughter.
"Thank you, Mama. How is Papa taking this?"
"He is brooding in his study. He isn't happy about this but understands."
"And Dante?"
"Gone without a trace. I contacted Leroux and he'll tell the authorities what has happened." Erika smiled as she stroked her daughter's black tresses before she turned to John, "Right now, my sons are looking for your sister to inform her about what has happened."
John nodded, "Thank you, Madame Noir."
"Rest, young man. You will need your strength. If I am needed I'll be in the study with your father. Maybe I can get him to lighten up."
Erika bowed to them and quietly walked out. John watched her leave to be sure she was gone. Christine bowed her head ready for his questions. John sat up and nearly cried out in pain. Christine's head snapped up in worry. She leaned over him to see what caused him to cry out. John blushed as her face was inches from his. He searched for a way to break the tension in the room.
Finally he spoke, "Your mother is the great prima?"
"Oui, she has been training me to take over for her in many things. I don't want to stay here my whole life. Maybe later on, but I wish to see the world." Christine confided in him.
John could hear the yearning in her voice. He wanted to comfort her. Reaching out he touched her cheek, Christine looked to him questioningly. John swallowed his pride.
"I guess I can relate to that. My father is training me to take over for him. I don't want that yet. That's why I jumped at the chance to come here and live a little." John told her.
Christine smiled at him, "We are a lot alike, Monsieur Holmes."
"I've kissed you twice now. I think it's permissible for you to call me, John. Christine, why was Dante after you?"
"I'm a Noir and he is a de Chagny. It is the way of things. Please you have asked enough of me. You must rest. Soon we will return you to your sister." Christine pleaded as she moved away from him. John nodded and lay back down. Christine rubbed oil on his forehead. The musky scent of myrrh filled his nose. Slowly he fell asleep under her tender ministrations.
A: (rips the tape off) One more day 'til Revolution! We will nip it in the bud!
MW: (clasps her mouth shut) Sorry everyone – she's a bit Javert obsessed and she's having mental problems due to - points to Erik Bear and Sherlock Bear in the devices so, on with the show!
Wandering Children – Chapter 9 - Shadows of the Past
"Dearest Aidan,
I want to assure you I am unassailable at the present moment. I am conveying this letter from a disclosed location. It distresses me that I should have to be telling you this, but if you would ever like to set your eyes on me again you will come to the café de lune, Mercredi à six heures. If you do not come at the designated location at the specified time I fear that we shall never see each other again.
In addition I am being provided for and you will not hear from me again until after Wednesday. In the envelope is enclosed a small wallet sized portrait of myself just incase you fail to ever observe me again in person you shall always have that little photograph to remind you of what you have forfeited.
Lovingly yours,
Jessamine"
Aidan read the letter over and over again. After finding it backstage early that morning he hadn't opened it until the mid-afternoon. To think, Nadir accused her of skipping rehearsal to go and steal! The envelope was not addressed in her handwriting, but in a more elegant script.
His chest tightened as he looked over the sentences and then the picture. He looked into the lifeless picture, her eyes were the same shade of blue, but it didn't do her presence justice. He began to breathe quickly and had to stagger over to the table on stage to hold his balance. It was only the day before she was giving them stage orders and now she was gone and obviously being forced to write letters that were much to pompous to be her own writing.
It took him quite a few moments to regain some of his composure and to be able to think properly. He ran his hand down his face and neck before making his way to his mother's dressing room. He quickly passed Nadir, not even paying him much notice, since he had other things on his mind. Descending down the stairs two and three steps at a time he didn't care if he tripped or fell, whatever got him there faster was what he was going to do. "Mama! Papa!" he yelled as he got off the last step.
Instead of seeing his parents right away, Christine came out of her room and looked up at her brother. The worried look on his face made her curious, but nervous at the same time. She had never seen him so pale, except from the night he revealed his secret to Cosette. She tried to stop him but he forged ahead completely ignoring Christine's concerned façade.
"Mama! Papa! Where are you?" he asked agitatedly. The two of them stepped out of the kitchen and looked at their obviously nervous son. "Read this," he thrust the letter to them. Erika took it first and quickly looked over it, a sympathetic look crossed her face as James took it from her, "We need to find her," Aidan said trying to remain calm, but still breathing heavily
"This could be a trap," James pointed out. "We don't even know if it was really her who sent this."
Aidan rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, "Yes I do, look it's her handwriting," he compared the two pieces, almost identical except the letter was shaky. "Now you tell me, if Mama were whisked away and forced to write a letter to you, possibly having her life on the line would you sit back and wait?"
"I know how you feel Aidan, and when I was your age I probably would have jumped head first into it, but now I know, there's some risk involved, especially with the Yardies here," James could see the hurt on his son's face, but he couldn't permit him to run about Paris putting them all in danger.
Before Aidan could respond to his father Erika spoke up, "Aidan," she put her hand on his shoulder, "Don't worry, we will find her. It will just take some time. Please, don't worry." Aidan sighed, half with understanding and then half with disgust. He walked to his room with heavy steps. When he slammed the door shut he sat at his desk. Laying the letter down on the desk he rested his head on his arms and closed his eyes. Hunched over he looked like he was writing when a delicate knock fell upon the door.
He didn't say anything as both Christine and Michael stepped into the room, "Aidan," she whispered, "Are you okay?" her voice was tinged with concern as she approached her brother.
"Go away," he murmured. "Leave me alone." Aidan looked up at them with a hard gaze as they made no movement to leave.
"Come on," Michael sighed, "What happened? It can't be that bad."
Aidan jumped up from the chair and looked his brother in the eyes. "Not that bad?! Not that bad?! What do you know? Well, unlike your precious little Yardie friend someone worth anyone's time has been kidnapped!" Michael and Christine's faces went white. "Yes, that's right! Jessamine is gone and the only thing we know is this," he threw the letter at them. "Now please, can you now honestly tell me that it can't be that bad!?" he screamed at Michael.
Michael, now speechless just backed up towards the door. Christine whispered, "I'm sorry Aidan, but you know that we won't let her get hurt." As Christine spoke Michael picked up the letter and read it to himself.
"That's simple for one to say, but for one to do it, that's a different story!" Aidan sat back down and ran his hands through his hair as he nervously tapped his foot.
Michael tried to lift the spirits in the room, "Aidan, you know Jessamine has spunk, she'll be fine. After all, look at what she did to Dante at the Masquerade."
"You don't understand do you?" Aidan remarked, "You don't realize that she's in obvious danger. I can't believe you can make light of this situation!" he said as he walked out of the room and up to the stage.
Christine watched their brother walk away defeated. Christine went to follow him but Michael stopped her. She glared at him until Michael was sure they were alone.
"He needs time alone." Michael told her, "Besides we need to help well."
"Like what?" Christine asked.
"One lets read this letter in a better light, maybe we can uncover a clue." Michael smiled at his sister.
Christine chewed her lip nervously, "Do you think we should let the other two know what is going on?"
"They could help. And it might distract them from their current investigation to give me more time to completely cover our tracks." Michael nodded, "I hear they are really looking the theater over."
"Should we wait for them to come here or should we go to them?"
"Let's go to them. It would look more urgent. Go get your cloak. I'll meet you by the Rue Scribe Exit."
Christine nodded as she headed to her room to get her cloak. Michael looked at the letter again. He wasn't sure why but he had heard some of these phrases used before, he just wasn't sure where. Gradually he folded up the letter and put it away in his coat pocket. Moving quickly he headed up to the Rue Scribe exit.
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As Aidan reached the top of the steps he noticed Krissy, Nadir, and Buquet walked along the backstage, "I told you that she wouldn't be a good edition to the stage crew. I told you but did you listen? No, no one ever listens to me!"
"It was only one day," Krissy defended, "besides, I can name quite a few times where you left Danesh waiting for you when you were late."
Nadir grimaced at his boyfriend's lack of discretion. "Even so, she missed a whole day of work, without even calling in!" Nadir pointed out, "none of us have ever missed a day of work without calling in."
"Don't be so sure of that," Buquet said, "Just because she missed one day of work we shouldn't penalize her. After all, Jess is new here."
"For all we know that little thief is out robbing innocents. She's a menace, a real she-devil!" Nadir said, getting increasingly frustrated with his colleague's utter disregard for his opinion.
At the sound of her name and Nadir's mouthing off Aidan stepped forward, "Is that what you think Nadir?" Aidan asked, his lip curling and his fists clenching. "Because if so you are entirely wrong."
"Oh then where is she Aidan?" Nadir asked defiantly.
"That's the problem!" Aidan yelled, "I don't know! She's gone, kidnapped, taken away and I can't do anything to help her! So, do you still hold her in low regards Nadir?" Nadir stared at Aidan dumbfounded.
"What do you mean kidnapped? Do you have any idea where she is?" Krissy immediately burst in, and then turned to Nadir, "Yes, she's stealing alright, more like stolen!" Then, bringing her gaze back to Aidan "Is there any information on who might have taken her?"
Buquet stammered at a loss for words. His heart beat fiercely and he grabbed onto one of the ropes to steady himself. "You're joking right Aidan, she's not really gone. She's with you right?" he asked not believing that she was really gone.
"Maybe now that she's been stolen she'll think twice about stealing next time," Nadir remarked. Krissy gave him a disgusted look and drew back her fist. She threw her fist at Nadir and hit him in the eye. He looked at her shocked and put his hand on his swelling eye.
Aidan looked at Nadir outraged, "How can you talk about the woman I love like that?!" The expression on Nadir's face went from shock to dismay as his knees weakened and he fell to the ground. His eyes rolled back as he hit the hard wood.
Krissy stood there, angry at Nadir and sympathetic towards Aidan. Buquet staggered away still trying to grasp the concept that Jessamine was missing. Krissy looked to Aidan offering a reassuring glance and went after Buquet holding him up as he shook his head. As soon as they were out of sight Aidan squatted near Nadir's head and tapped on his cheek, "Nadir, they're gone."
Nadir slowly came to and sat up. "About damn time, I forgot Krissy had one hell of a right hook," he sighed touching the raw area underneath his eye. "Support by opposition is not always the best way to help someone, look at what it can do."
"Yea," Aidan said disappointed. "You might want to get some ice for that," he pointed to the eye, "It'll only get worse if you don't." His voice was only half-hearted without any conviction.
Nadir sighed heavy heartedly and leaned against one of the machines backstage. "Aidan, if there's anything Danesh or I could do we'll be sure to help out."
"Thanks," he murmured pulling the picture out of his pocket. "This is what I have left Uncle Nadir," he showed it to him. "I'll be back soon," he said walking away, "if Mama or Papa needs me I'll be on the roof."
Nadir nodded as he disappeared up the stairs. "Dear Allah give me strength," he sighed heading towards Erika's dressing room. "This is going to be tough news to break."
Nadir cautiously walked into the underground house. James was on the video phone with Fenwick. Erika paced back and forth as she listened to James conversation. Every so often, she would add something. Nadir cleared his throat catching their attention. Erika walked up to him.
"I see that you know." Nadir observed.
"Yes, James is having Fenwick spread the words that he is willing to buy any relevant information that pertains to her disappearance." Erika informed him, "I'm worried, Nadir."
"I am too. Aidan is beside himself."
"This was done to specifically hurt him. I know it." Erika stated firmly, "I refuse to let them hurt my family."
Nadir sighed as he hugged his best friend, "I know. Trust me, Erika, I know. These are my godchildren we are talking about. We will protect them."
James stood up and walked over to the two. Erika pulled away and joined her husband side. James pulled her close and stroked her hair lovingly. Nadir stood a little straighter as they regarded each other. Right now, they had the same agenda to protect their family.
"Fenwick is spreading the word." James told them.
"I place Akeem and myself at your disposal." Nadir bowed, "Your son is sulking on the roof."
"I can't believe how worked up he is getting over one girl. I thought he swore off of women after Cosette." James grumbled.
"He admitted that he's in love with her." Nadir remarked casually, "And he is acting that way as well."
Erika smiled softly at the news while James felt shock for a brief second. After he looked at his son's behavior lately, things began to make sense. He smiled gently at Nadir.
"Really? Well, that explains a lot of thing." James grinned, "It seems we need to work extra hard to get her back."
Erika suddenly realized something, "Nadir, Has anyone seen Dante?"
"No. I don't recall see him around lately." Nadir remembered as he his brow furrowed in concentration, "In fact he has been very scarce recently."
"I think he needs a tail." Erika smiled, "See what Akeem can do."
"Of course. Will we have more detectives involved with this?" Nadir smiled.
"NO!" James shouted, "I forbid it."
Erika placed a hand over James's mouth and replied, "Not just yet. As soon as we know more, I will inform them."
"Very well, my Phantom." Nadir bowed again and walked out the way he came.
"I won't have them here, Erika. I refuse to have them here." James warned her.
"And if this proves to be more than we can handle? What then?" Erika shot back, "I promise not to bring them unless we really need them."
"I would prefer them not to be here at all."
"I know. Let's see if we can find any clues topside." Erika sighed as she led her husband towards one of the many exits in her house. James nodded as he let her led him away.
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Michael waited for a few minutes until Christine came up to the Rue Scribe. "Do you have the letter?" she asked tightening the cloak around her as the wind blew harder. He pulled it out and showed it to her but quickly stashed it back in his pocket. "Where do you think they are?" Christine asked.
"We'll go in through the front doors of the opera and see if they're inside, and if they're not we're just going to have to go around Paris looking for them," Michael decided. Christine nodded and followed Michael to the front steps of the opera.
Opening the large doors they both sighed a sigh of relief as they noticed the Holmes twins examining a door frame. After taking a deep breath they got into character and rushed over to them, "Mirielle, there's been an emergency!" Michael said in an exasperated voice, as though he had been running.
She abruptly turned around while John stayed unaffected by the goings on outside of the singular notch in the doorframe, "What is it?" she asked concerned.
Christine held out her hand and Michael handed her the letter, "Jessamine has been taken! This is all we know," she pretended to start to tear and handed Mirielle the letter.
"John, look at this," she motioned for him to come over without taking her eyes off of the paper. Her violet eyes sharply scanned the paper as she waited for John to stop lingering over the doorframe. "It's English produced paper," she mumbled, "black, ball point pen, paper-mate brand, and," she lifted the paper up towards the lights, "no watermark." She turned to Michael and Christine, "Do you have the envelope it came in?"
"Regretfully no," Michael looked at the ground, and a strand of his hair fell in his face. "That letter is it, but we knew that you two could help us. Aidan knows nothing of this so please don't mention it to him."
John grabbed the letter from Mirielle and drew the exact conclusions she did. His brows furrowed in concentration as he tried to gather information from it, but he was too concentrated on his other duties. "Mir," he turned to her, "You take Jessamine's disappearance to work on and I'll continue trying to find our thieves from the Downing Street crime," he handed her the letter.
"Okay," she muttered taking it back into her hands and reading it over once again. John then quickly spun around and looked at the door frame again. Mirielle's eyes grazed the letter and she ran her fingers over the surface to get a feel for the paper. "When was the last time anyone saw her?" Mirielle looked up from the letter.
"I saw her yesterday at rehearsal," Michael replied. Then he looked to his sister for her answer.
"That's the last time I saw her as well," Christine confessed. "Mademoiselle Mirielle, if there is anything that we can do to aid you in your investigation, please ask us."
Mirielle thought for a moment and then smiled weakly, "Merci for the offer, but you should really get back to helping your brother get through this, I'll make sure she's fine," as she started to walk outside she turned around and added, "Trust me."
Christine nodded as she stepped away from Mirielle and Michael. Mirielle would question Michael about the letter and he would answer. Christine smiled at how well they fit together. Too bad, they can't be together. Christine turned and walked to the door of the Opera House.
John watched Christine sadly walk away from Mirielle and Michael. She seemed so alone and sad. He felt torn between checking on her and continuing his investigation. Then his eyes narrowed as Dante ducked out behind Christine. John glanced at his sister as Michael showed her to the exit that the stage crew leaves by. John sighed and went after Christine and Dante.
He silently followed them to a same cemetery as before. Christine looked around nervously before going in. Dante waited a few minutes before entering. John quickly stepped up to the gate. He felt a lingering sense of foreboding as he slipped through the bars.
Christine entered her family's crypt silently. She often came here when she need to clear her head, a trait she shared with her mother. Gracefully she kneeled in front of her ancestor's marker that read Erik Noir. Christine closed her eyes in a silent prayer.
Suddenly a sense of dread washed over her. Christine's eyes snapped open and she got up alarmed. She could sense a dark presence in her family's tomb. Before she could act, pair of arms grabbed and pulled her away. Christine struggled with all her might as she watched her assailant try to press a sickly smelling cloth to her face.
Her one thought was to try and scream for help. The smell of the cloth began to make her head spin as the darkness tried to steal her sight. In a desperate attempt to free her self, Christine turned and kicked him as hard as she could. Soon she was propelled backwards and her head slammed against the stone crypt. Her world faded to black as she slid to the ground.
John passed the lingering tombstones. The last time he was here, it didn't seem to so desolate. Now he shivered at the thought of being surrounded by death. Christine didn't belong here. She was so alive to him. John quickened his pace as his worries increased. Soon he saw Dante grabbing Christine. He tried to press a cloth to her face. Christine was struggling fiercely. She twisted towards him and kneed him in the stomach. Dante threw her to the ground in rage. Christine's head hit the stone Crypt. John watched in horror as she crumpled to the ground.
Dante's face twisted in anger as he cursed the fallen singer. Determinedly he pulled an ionser from inside of his jacket and aimed at Christine. John felt his heart freeze as he watched Dante pull back the safety. Before he knew what was happening. John charged Dante and they struggled over the gun.
Christine began to stir. She looked up to see John and Dante fighting over a charged ionser. She crawled away from them, watching them in fear as they fought over the gun. In an instant the ionser went off and John fell backwards. Christine screamed as she scrambled to his side. John struggled into a sitting position. Christine supported his weight. She was relieved to see it was only a flesh wound to his shoulder.
Both of them froze as they heard Dante charge up the ionser again. John pulled Christine closer to him, trying to shield her with his body. Dante grinned at them in a sick way. Inky blackness began to creep into John's vision. As Christine trembled next to him, John fought it back as he glared at Dante.
Dante sneered, "You would protect the whore. You must ask your self is the bitch worth it?"
"She is worth a hundred of you." John bit out ready to face his fate as the blackness began to overcome his vision.
"I agree." A tenor voice added as a black figure landed in front of John and Christine.
John watched as the cloaked figure deflected the ionser blast with a simple sword. That is what Mirielle was talking about was John's last thought as he blacked out in Christine's arms.
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As she left through the back to go outside a bad feeling passed through her body. The shiver went down her spine and to her legs causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand straight. She shook it off and continue on outside. The Parisian late afternoon was like no other, no matter what anyone said, it was definitely the most beautiful city in the world.
A small sigh escaped her lips as she looked over the letter again. "Hmm. . ." she concentrated closely on the wording and phrases. "Not very modern," she remarked to herself. "A lot of unneeded words, apparently the person who dictated this is into grandeur." She continued to stroll down the street letter in hand. She turned onto a small back street, a shortcut to the hotel when she felt something behind her.
She looked over her shoulder but no one was there. She shrugged and continued walking. She still felt uneasy, but kept on walking nonetheless. Finally, as she turned once again a cold hand clasped over her mouth. She was stunned at first and then panicked. Her eyes went wide as she clasped her hands around the note in one hand and then tried to catch her assailant with the other. "Mademoiselle, please don't struggle, its quite hard to do anything nonviolent with a struggling fille in your grasps wouldn't you say?" his tone was sardonic, as was his crooked smirk.
Mirielle's eyes narrowed as she tried to break free of his grip. He grabbed the back of her neck and put her into a sleep, "Now that wasn't so hard," he mused picking her up in his arms and carrying her to his apartment. He laid her on the chair where Jessamine had been sitting the previous evening. After ten minutes of waiting Mirielle came to and looked around confused, "Mon chère, do not be surprised, you're here in my apartment, I believe the subject of your little inquiry is in the other room," he smirked deviously.
Mirielle began to put everything together, kidnapping Jessamine was a trap. He wanted to get at her too. "Okay," she said trying to remain calm, "What do you want and why do you want it?"
"Ah, you're as calm as the Thames is deep mon chère," he teased her. "If you must know, I want what's mine and I want it because it belongs to me, what it is, I'm not about to reveal so soon in this unfolding game. But as I told your spirited friend, there are provisions enough for you, as long as you do my bidding first."
"And what is that?" she asked haughtily.
He chuckled at her and then smiled throwing a pad and pen her way, "Write as I dictate to you, do no more or less and we won't have a problem. But, if you fail to obey then we shall see what fate has in store for you won't we?"
"Before I do anything," she tried to stay in a neutral attitude, despite her growing hatred for the person she didn't even know. "Tell me where we are."
"We're at 245 Lefreve Boulevard," he admitted freely. "Now, let's start it with, Brother John," she started to write but he shook his head, "no, that's too common," pondering for a moment he looked up with a glint in his eye, "Dearest brother- " His dictation continued as she wrote on and on, the letter never seeming to end, but as she scribbled her signature to the bottom she handed him the pad and pen. "Very good mon chère, now you can bring it upon yourself to go and talk with the poet, she'll be happy with some company. Besides, it isn't like you two can do anything about it anyway."
Mirielle got up and stiffly walked to the room where Jessamine sat on one of the two beds clutching her notebook with a death grip and closing her eyes. As Mirielle walked into the room and shut the door Jessamine looked up fearfully and then let out a sigh of relief. "I thought you were him," she murmured motioning towards the door.
"No," Mirielle said, "however I did give my brother a clue as to where we were. The creep out there made me write a note similar to yours, only without mentioning a picture or forfeiting anything."
"How did you manage that?" Jessamine asked, looking up at Mirielle with blurred blue eyes.
"Well, I found out we're at 245 Lefreve Boulevard, so I would darken the letters and words that came up in that order," Mirielle whispered so that the man outside wouldn't hear what she had done.
Jessamine looked at her in awe and smiled, "So that means we could possibly be saved? We won't have to stay here any longer?" She pointed to the door, "I hate him! I really do! He took me away and then forced me to write a taunting letter, please tell me Aidan is trying to find me." She looked up to Mirielle with hope flickering in her eyes. "He's doing all he can," Mirielle reassured her. "But for now we could think of some way to get out of here, or at least attempt to." She looked around the room at their assets. The room was scarlet with richly colored paintings on the wall. The carpet was the color of wine and the draperies were crushed velvet. "Well I was right about the extravagance," she murmured. On the bed there was a heavy white comforter, and then an idea struck her. She madly ripped at the comforter and underneath laid silk sheets. She smirked and rearranged the comforter to look as though it had not been touched.
"What are you thinking?" Jessamine noted the mischievous look on Mirielle's face.
Just as Mirielle was about to say something the man peeked his head through the door and smirked, "Well filles, I shall be at the market and then delivering a letter, don't get too lonely without me," he teased letting the door click dryly. Jessamine had the urge to jump on him and beat him to death, but Mirielle gave her a look that said, 'I have a plan.'
They heard him lock the front door from the outside and then quietly left the room. "Okay," Mirielle smiled, "We're going to go into his room and get to work."
"What kind of work?" Jessamine questioned, jotting a note or two down in her book.
"You'll see," Mirielle said playfully. As soon as they knew he was gone for sure they went into his room. It was even more elegant than the room they had been sentenced to stay in. The furniture was all mahogany and the room resounded with gold. Jessamine and Mirielle shuddered simultaneously. Then, Mirielle rushed over to one side of the bed and said, "Okay Jess, now you go to the other side and we'll throw the comforter off to get the sheets."
Jessamine didn't ask any questions and did as she was told. Mirielle began tying the layers of golden silk sheets together, "Here," she handed Jess the end, "start lowering it out of the window." Jessamine began lowering it until finally it hit the ground. Mirielle tied the last sheet to the bed post and then went over to the window. "I'm going to climb down, and you're going to too, got it?" she asked halfway out the window already.
"Got it," Jessamine echoed as she watched Mirielle climb down with ease.
She looked out across the street and let out a small laugh as a woman dropped her groceries and an older man gazed at Mirielle perplexed. As Mirielle got to the bottom Jess took a deep breath and started to climb out. She put the notebook in her teeth and lowered herself down. When she finally got to the ground the two girls ran back to the opera house, leaving the golden sheets flailing in the wind.
He walked back to his apartment smiling. "Now all I need is the other girl and I'll have them all," he mused to himself as he adjusted the packages to be easier to carry. Humming a soft song to himself he continued down the street. When he reached the front of the building he looked up in shock. Hanging out of the third floor window were his sheets, from his bed, "Dammit!" he yelled dropping his packages on the ground. An elderly woman stopped and looked at him in awe for cursing out loud like that. He turned to the gray haired woman and glared. She pretended to not have been looking and quickly tottered off down the street, scared that the young man was going to pull a knife out on her with that steely gaze.
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John groaned as the pain spread into his shoulder. He wanted to roll over but found himself unable to. A pair of gentle hands touched his forehead trying to soothe away his pain. John opened his eyes and smiled in Christine's face. Convinced he was in a dream, he pulled her closer and kissed her softly. God she felt so real. When she pulled away, she gave him a small smile.
"If you pulled that when my father was watching, you would be ripped to shreds despite that wound to your shoulder." she joked as she continued to check him over.
"Where am I?" John asked her.
"My family's home. The Phantom brought us here." Christine explained gently as she applied a balm to his shoulder.
John hissed in pain as it stung his wound. It was then he realized he was in nothing but his boxers. A blush crept across his cheeks as he felt Christine's gentle touch. Christine giggled at the sight of his blush.
"Don't worry," she giggled, "Michael stripped you down for me."
"Thank god." John sighed, "Have you been taking care of me this whole time?"
"Yes, with my mother's help." Christine grinned.
"You are very talented at healing." John complimented her.
Christine blushed and was about to say more when the door opened. Erika Noir entered her daughter's bedroom with more supplies. She smiled to see the young man alive and well. John stared at the similarities between the two women. How could he not see the strong resemblance between them. It was plain to see that they were mother and daughter. Erika handed her daughter the supplies.
"I brought some more bandages and herbs to help with the pain that he may be feeling." Erika informed her daughter.
"Thank you, Mama. How is Papa taking this?"
"He is brooding in his study. He isn't happy about this but understands."
"And Dante?"
"Gone without a trace. I contacted Leroux and he'll tell the authorities what has happened." Erika smiled as she stroked her daughter's black tresses before she turned to John, "Right now, my sons are looking for your sister to inform her about what has happened."
John nodded, "Thank you, Madame Noir."
"Rest, young man. You will need your strength. If I am needed I'll be in the study with your father. Maybe I can get him to lighten up."
Erika bowed to them and quietly walked out. John watched her leave to be sure she was gone. Christine bowed her head ready for his questions. John sat up and nearly cried out in pain. Christine's head snapped up in worry. She leaned over him to see what caused him to cry out. John blushed as her face was inches from his. He searched for a way to break the tension in the room.
Finally he spoke, "Your mother is the great prima?"
"Oui, she has been training me to take over for her in many things. I don't want to stay here my whole life. Maybe later on, but I wish to see the world." Christine confided in him.
John could hear the yearning in her voice. He wanted to comfort her. Reaching out he touched her cheek, Christine looked to him questioningly. John swallowed his pride.
"I guess I can relate to that. My father is training me to take over for him. I don't want that yet. That's why I jumped at the chance to come here and live a little." John told her.
Christine smiled at him, "We are a lot alike, Monsieur Holmes."
"I've kissed you twice now. I think it's permissible for you to call me, John. Christine, why was Dante after you?"
"I'm a Noir and he is a de Chagny. It is the way of things. Please you have asked enough of me. You must rest. Soon we will return you to your sister." Christine pleaded as she moved away from him. John nodded and lay back down. Christine rubbed oil on his forehead. The musky scent of myrrh filled his nose. Slowly he fell asleep under her tender ministrations.