Oh boy. Raoul's real evil, huh?
Let's see what everyone is gonna do about it...
-Nico
"She must be so frightened," Christine said, her head resting on Erik's chest.
Erik tightened his grasp on her, kissing her forehead. "She is a brave girl," he replied. "She will be all right."
He sounded as if he meant to convince himself rather than the woman he held.
Erik closed his eyes for the briefest of moments, recounting recent events and revelations.
Erik, Christine, and Madame Giry had held fast to the possibility that Madeline was safe, still with Meg. They had prayed silently that they would open the doors to Madame Giry's chambers to reveal the two playing contentedly.
Instead, they found an empty room.
And a sealed white envelope resting on Madame Giry's desk.
Erik had ripped the envelope open with a fury in his eyes Christine had not seen in ages.
Christine had watched as the fury turned to rage.
"It is addressed to you," he said, his jaw clenched. Christine took the letter with a shaking hand.
My darling Christine,
My men would like to thank you for your company last night. They rather enjoyed your presence.
I assume it would be redundant of me to give the whereabouts of your daughter and the Giry girl, as you have always been a woman of exceptional intelligence and have no doubt realized they are with me.
And shall remain with me until you come to a decision.
It seems, dear Christine, that you have been given yet another opportunity to make the correct choice.
We were meant to be together, Christine. In time, you will come to realize this as well. The man you have selected as your husband, as the father of your child, is not a man at all but a beast who will surely destroy you at the first opportunity.
Think about this, my dear. Think about Joseph Buquet. Would you subject your own child to such instability? I think not.
Do not attempt to locate Madeline or myself. I will kill Meg at the first indication of police, avengers, or the rag-tag army your husband is no doubt contemplating organizing into action.
You have until tomorrow night to decide. Agree to be mine, to live with me, to love me with every ounce of your soul. We shall raise Madeline appropriately, as I am certain she is in dire need of a secure father figure.
You will meet me on the roof tomorrow night…alone…with your decision.
No tricks. No deception. I will be prepared to end a life should I feel threatened in the least.
Until then,
RC
Christine had crumpled the paper, sobs once again racking her body.
Now, several hours later, Erik and Christine lay on the old pewter swan bed deep within the stomach of the Opera House at a complete loss of energy, happiness, or options.
Christine's fingertips worked the silk of Erik's shirt, feeling as if she might die.
"I shall have to go with him," she said softly.
"That is out of the question," Erik answered, his tone sharp. Christine lifted her head.
"If I refuse, he will kill Madeline and Meg. I know it, Erik. He is out of his mind."
Erik's jaw clenched again.
"I can deceive him, I can make him think I have accepted my fate…at least then I can be certain Madeline is safe," she continued.
"And what of me, my love? Am I resorted to remain here? Is this my fate?" Erik demanded, getting up out of the bed, running his fingers through his black hair.
"Of course not," Christine said. "I love you, Erik. I promised to always love you. I always shall…" She began to cry again, her emotions uncontrollable. "I will demand he allow Meg to return to the Opera," she said, sounding as if she was formulating a plan. "And then, once I have convinced him of my 'love' for him, I will take Madeline and we will escape…leave Paris once and for all…"
Erik turned to face his wife.
She sat up in the bed, her body worn and bruised from her ordeal. And yet, her eyes were determined; strong.
He returned to her side, sitting on the bed and placing a large hand on her cheek and touching his forehead to hers.
"I love you," he whispered, tears forming on his own eyes. "I cannot bear to think of you with him, in his home…with my child…even if it is an act."
"Erik," Christine cooed, wrapping her arms around his neck. "It's just for a little while…only a little while…we haven't another choice…we haven't…"
The two fell into an embrace, weeping for the loss of their child and the realization of what had to be done.
"I don't like this," Madeline announced, dropping the pieces of bread and cheese Raoul had given her onto the floor.
Meg, despite her situation, had to stifle a smile at the four year old.
Raoul placed a hand to his temple, trying to sooth the tension in his head. "Well," he said, his voice tight. "What do you like?"
Madeline sat back in the high-backed chair at Raoul's table. She tapped her fingers on the arm of the chair, looking very much like an impatient Carlotta.
"I like potatoes," she informed him. "And chocolate."
"Well, we are not having potatoes or chocolate," Raoul told her. "So if you do not eat what I have so generously given you, you can simply go hungry." He pulled Madeline's now empty plate away from her.
Madeline's lips puckered.
Her brow furrowed.
Her face wrinkled.
And suddenly, she let loose a shriek that could have broken glass.
"God in heaven, shut her up!" Raoul told Meg, placing his hands over his ears as Madeline progressed into a full-fledged tantrum.
Meg looked at him. "She will tire soon, Sir," she told him, placing another bit of cheese into her mouth.
Madeline slumped off the chair and onto the floor, now adding the thump of her kicking heels against the floor to the outburst.
"What's wrong with her?" Raoul demanded, his eyes wide as he peered down at the little girl on the floor.
Meg glanced at Madeline. "She's four," Meg informed Raoul. "This is what four-year-olds do when they don't get what they want."
"Madeline! Stop this!" Raoul yelled over the noise the child was making.
Madeline quieted suddenly, drawing her sweaty self onto her feet.
"I will not!" She announced, stamping her foot and placing her hands on her hips. "I want my mama and my papa!" She wailed, running to Meg.
Meg pulled her into her arms, comforting the sobs racking the small child's body.
Raoul moved out of the room to get away from the piercing sounds of Madeline's cries.
Perhaps he was not as ready for fatherhood as he thought.
