That night was unusually cold, but it didn't matter to Raoul. Since Christine had been taken from him he always felt cold. He was lost in winter without her. He sat at a distance from the circle of tents, staring up at the stars. He refused to go near the fire where the other men of his search party were gathered. The sound of people laughing only seemed to amplify his pain. Without Christine, Raoul preferred the lonely darkness. At that moment, Raoul understood the Phantom's pain and the insanity that followed it. He knew how it felt to lose everything that ever mattered to you, and it was slowly killing him.
"Monsieur," a voice spoke firmly, breaking his thoughts, "why don't you come have something to eat?"
It was Maurice, one of the men assigned to him by the detective. Maurice had become one of Raoul's closest confidants. He had told Maurice everything about his time at the house by the sea and the Opera Populaire. Maurice knew every detail of every moment Raoul had spent with Christine. Only Maurice knew of the jealousy he felt towards Erik. He was envious of the music that bonded him to Christine. Raoul's every moment was dedicated to her. If not for Maurice, he would be dead by now. Maurice was the one who spoke words of reason, forcing him to stop his search and take time to eat and sleep. You'll do her no good if you're dead.
"Very well, mon amie. Give me a moment," Raoul answered, taking his eyes from the sky to look at his companion. Maurice nodded and took a few steps back.
Raoul sighed deeply, watching his breath hang on the air. It was in those moments of stillness that he felt closest to Christine. He would close his eyes and let his soul take him to her. In his mind he saw her trapped in a small dark room, pining for him the way he longed for her. Across the distance he could feel her pain like a knife in his heart.
Raoul whispered into the night, "I'm coming, my love. No matter how long it takes me, or how far I have to travel, I will find you."
He stood and began the walk back to the camp. Maurice gave him a reassuring pat on the back as they approached the flickering flames. Raoul collapsed beside his tent. Maurice brought him a plate of food and sat down beside him. The two of them ate with their hands, abandoning any formality. When they were finished, Raoul bid his companions good-night and lifted the flap of his tent, going inside to sleep. But for a long while, sleep wouldn't come. Raoul lay flat on his back, his hands folded behind his head. He thought about the first day he met Christine. Even as a child she had a graceful beauty that radiated from her face. He remembered the look of horror on that beautiful face when the red scarf floated out to the sea. Without thinking and against the cries of his governess, Raoul had run after it. He still remembered how the spray of the waves felt against his face. He was chilled to the bone when he emerged with Christine's beloved possession. But the reward she gave him, a light kiss on the cheek, immediately sent a tingling warmth throughout his whole body. He had known even then that his feelings for her were deeper than a childish crush.
Raoul abandoned his thoughts for a moment to listen for noises outside his tent. The camp had grown silent, suggesting that Raoul had stayed awake for far too long. He closed his eyes and let sleep take hold of him. It was the only time that he felt any peace. He never had any real dreams, but in the calm of slumber he felt a sense of unity with Christine. As if, during the night, their souls left their bodies and were brought together in some mystical place. Raoul once tried to explain it to Maurice, but the feeling was beyond words or comprehension, even for Raoul himself. Raoul believed that his nighttime journeys were a blessing, given by God to ease his suffering. But when the morning came and he opened his eyes, the feeling would fade, leaving a bittersweet taste in Raoul's soul. His heart was torn down the middle, and nothing but Christine's presence and loving words could mend it.
