Hi everyone! I loved all of the reviews! I'm glad that you liked my last line! Sometime I have trouble writing the fluff, but this time it seemed to work out well!
When Laurent Ames did not immediately return the night of Christine's departure, Raoul quickly brushed any concerns that he had from his mind. It was very possible that it had become late, and Laurent had decided to head home afterwards. The Vicomte was irked over the delay but looked forward to the next day, continuing to hope that his suspicions about Christine's new companion would prove to be false. Perhaps she really had found some shy young musician in her many days at the opera house. Somehow he doubted this, though.
The next morning arrived with an overcast sky, and Raoul still received no visit from Monsieur Ames. He was extremely thankful that he had not paid the man yet, or else he would have thought himself to be duped again. Impatiently he waited as the hours passed, but the next night came with not a word whatsoever.
The Vicomte did receive one piece of good news that put his troubled mind partially at rest. Apparently all of the men involved in his attack had been discovered and arrested, including the Inspector. Now he could focus all of his energy on finding Christine and Laurent.
It was several days later when a relatively attractive younger woman walked up to his bedside, her blonde hair tucked neatly up in a bun and shadows under her small green eyes. She was adorned very elaborately in an expensive blue velvet dress, trimmed with white lace along the edges. To get through the little door, she had to turn to the side, as the large hoop in her skirt made entrance difficult.
It took the Vicomte a moment to remember who she was. "Oh...Madame Ames," he said in recognition as she looked down upon him. "It is a pleasure to see you today. To what do I owe this visit?"
Sophie Ames smiled kindly, but there was an odd glint within her eyes. "It is nice to see you as well, Monsieur de Chagny. I am terribly sorry to bother you in your condition, but I have to ask you something of importance."
"Of course," he replied.
She sighed and looked at her white gloved hands. "My husband...I have not seen him for two nights now. It is not completely abnormal for him to disappear sometimes, but usually at least one of his man-servants knows where he is. I am worried that he has gotten himself into trouble."
Raoul tensed but spoke honestly. "Madame, I saw him two nights ago. I am afraid that I sent him out on a favor. He has not returned?"
"No. What sort of favor did you send him on?" She paused and pursed her lips. "I am sorry. It is really none of my business."
The Vicomte hesitated. "It was an errand of an odd nature, I am afraid."
"Do you have any idea where he could be?" she finally asked, looking absentmindedly out the window and into the city.
Raoul sighed. "I...may." He thought deeply for a moment, knowing that if his presumptions were correct, Laurent was likely no longer alive. And Christine was in grave danger. The Vicomte shuddered before speaking again. "Madame?"
"Yes?"
"Perhaps you should contact the police. Tell them to come here at once."
"Very...very well," she replied, wringing her hands together as her face paled slightly. Raoul felt a sharp pang of guilt go through him. Had he inadvertently created a widow?
"I am terrible sorry, Madame Ames," he said softly, staring at the ceiling. "If anything has happened, I take full responsibility for it."
She nodded and began to slowly head back to the door, her shoes clicking gently against the floor and her long skirts swishing softly. After several seconds, she turned to face him again with an odd expression upon her face. "Do not feel too badly," she said almost inaudibly. "Sometimes we get what we deserve." Madame Sophie Ames quickly departed from the room.
Raoul stared after her a minute before placing his throbbing head into his hands in frustration. Absolutely nothing made sense to him, but he would be best off assuming the worst. It was most likely that Christine was currently at the mercy of the Opera Ghost. Was she under some sort of devilish mind control? Had he threatened her in some way, sworn to kill someone she loved if she did not go with him?
The Vicomte could not bring himself to believe that she was really in love with this creature. Half the time he was with her in those tumultuous months, she had talked of how frightened she was of the Phantom. All her words had been of horror. This Erik was a murderer for God's sake! What else was he to think?
Late that afternoon, three uniformed policemen came into his room and immediately began questioning him about his friend's disappearance.
"Where would you guess that he is right now?" one officer finally asked, pen ready.
"My best guess, Monsieur, would be that he is dead somewhere beneath the opera house."
The policeman looked at him as if he had gone mad. "Dead? At the Opera House!" he exclaimed, not even bothering to write it down. "Where on earth did you draw that conclusion from?"
"It is only a best guess," he replied quietly "Perhaps I am wrong." They interrogated him for a while longer before leaving, and Raoul somehow doubted that they would find much, even if they did decide to search the dank cellars. He now knew that it would be useless to try to explain about his fiancée as well. It would be he and he alone who would have to find Christine. No one else would be hurt in this miserable game.
As he thought, the police returned to his room several days later with no body or traces of Laurent found, though they had made the arduous trek down into the cellars.
It was no secret that Laurent himself had somewhat of a criminal record. Some high level officers believed he had likely involved himself in illegal activity and either been murdered or fled from his troubles. Slowly they began to back away from the case, leaving it as another unsolved Parisian mystery.
Raoul allowed them to depart without a word about the Phantom or his former fiancée. If he needed the law, he would call for it later. Even if it took weeks...months...years. He could only imagine what horrors she was going through right now.
They had traveled all of the following night with no problems or impediments. The strange couple silently rode in the carriage through the back roads and alleys and toward the edge of the city.
Both were quiet throughout the journey. Christine could tell that he had not fully recovered from his sickness, despite his adeptness at hiding his discomfort. As he had loaded their belongings, she could see a rare exhaustion deeply within his eyes, a slight slowness in his graceful step. When she had attempted to help him pack, though, he had pushed her aside, and she had relented. Perhaps he trusted her more, but Erik still obviously thought of her as someone in need of his care. He was nowhere near revealing any vulnerable part of himself yet, and, in many ways, Erik still remained a mystery to her.
Still, though, she felt extremely protected as they continued forward, and she hoped that, despite his silence, she brought some semblance of comfort to him. Cautiously she grasped his arm and looked up at his face. Though it was very dark and the mask obscured much of his expression, she thought she saw a vague look of pleasure come into his eyes at her touch. Encouraged, she continued to hold on, knowing that it would be up to her to break many of the barriers that still lay between them. Perhaps some would never be broken.
"Are we to go to the house tonight?" she asked softly, speaking for the first time in almost an hour.
"No. I shall need a day or two, or rather a night or two, to make it habitable for us. There are several inns at the edge of the city where we will be forced to stay until that time. They are secluded, and the people keep to themselves. It shall not put us in harm's way."
"Oh," she said softly. Christine was surprised that he was willing to stay in a public inn but said nothing of it.
Erik had not been lying when he said that the inns were isolated. Off by themselves in an area of a city that was only dimly lit, several grey stone buildings sat by themselves. Had she not been securely next to Erik, she would have been wary of the location.
He stopped the carriage in a shadowed corner near the front entrance and sat there momentarily. Slowly he began to get out and, for a moment, Christine was confused by the delay. Then she realized he was waiting to see if she would offer to retrieve the key for the room so that he could avoid being seen. "I shall go," she quickly chirped.
Twenty minutes later found them in a small two-roomed area. The floor was made of a slightly aged wood, and the walls were a solid white color. Each room contained a feather bed, a mahogany desk, and a soft arm chair. She had easily secured the space from a disinterested inn keeper who had looked up from his ledger only to quickly hand her the keys and take payment. When asked whether she wanted two beds or one, she had hesitated but said two. Somehow Christine knew that if she got only one, Erik would let her have it and spend the night standing up.
Erik quietly looked around, carefully inspecting the interior with slight distaste but acceptance. Christine glanced about as well. It may have been a dull room, but it was fairly tidy, and really she didn't care what it looked like. For the moment, they were safe, and they were together. Quietly she approached him from behind and lightly touched his arm. He turned to her with curiosity, and she drew him toward her.
Removing his mask slowly, she tenderly kissed him in the dim light, and he returned it, drawing her up and against him. Being next to each other was enough to make them forget all of the past and present troubles, even if only for a brief moment. The kiss ended, and she leaned against his towering figure for a second. "Even without your mask, I believe you hide from me sometimes," she said softly. He said nothing to refute this. They ended the embrace, and Christine began to go to the other room to prepare for bed, gently handing his mask back to him before she left.
At that moment, the door suddenly opened with a quiet creak, causing Christine to jump three feet into the air and Erik to clutch his weapon. In stepped a girl, not over the age of twelve. Obviously thinking no one was in there, she was startled to see them. Erik quickly whirled to cover his still unmasked right side, but the young girl had already caught a tiny glimpse of it. She stepped back quickly, her mouth falling open.
Christine finally found her voice after several seconds. "Excuse me! What are you doing here?" she asked much more harshly than she meant to.
"I...thought this was my parents' room. It was a mis-mistake. I am sorry. I did not mean to come in. I am s-sorry." Her little voice shook, and her eyes continued to involuntarily dart back to Erik. She turned around and scrambled back outside and into the darkness.
Christine took several deep breaths and closed the door, leaning her back against it. Slowly she came up behind Erik and gently touched his shoulder, not knowing whether this was the time to leave him alone or come forth with solace.
"It..." she began. "Oh, she is just a silly girl. I..." Erik immediately interrupted her.
"Christine, it is not your place to excuse the world for its actions. It is simply the way things are. Accept them." He turned from her and began to distractedly look through some papers. She could only stand there quietly, slightly hurt by his reaction.
Why would he not accept her comfort? She knew that he had to feel some pain over such things. She could see it in his glowing golden eyes. Why was it that she was always the one who felt the need to cry for both of them?
"I am going to sleep now," she said softly, biting her lip.
"Is there anything that you need?"
Yes, I need you to comfort me like I am a five year old girl. "No. I am fine. Good night, Erik." She turned and went into the other room, climbing under the crisp, white sheets. The several times she awoke during the night, she could see the orange glow from the lantern that was still burning in the other room. She doubted that he ever went to sleep that night. Of course, he was not used to sleeping in a bed.
With a sigh, she pulled the covers over her head and settled back into slumber.
