Summary: A letter. A decision. A discovery. A gunshot and an abduction. And so it begins again ...

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

It had been almost two weeks since Erik had received Annalise's letter and sent her his reply. The letter had managed to lift him from the dark depths into which he had sunk when, once again, left to his own devices. He had not thought to hear from her once she had returned to Paris and, now that he had, Erik found himself waiting for another letter each time Tomas would return from the village. His heart would sink when Tomas came back with empty hands and Erik hated himself for it. He hated the weakness that this girl brought forth in him. He hated it as much as he longed for it, knowing that the weakness was a sign of the heart that her mother had returned to him.

Erik was running loving fingers over some of the many red roses he kept in vases throughout his home. He had found the rose bushes overgrown and long neglected in the courtyard of the monastery and spent long years cultivating them and nursing them back to health. Their delicate nature and gentle scent reminded him of Christine. The roses were his way of holding on to what could never have been. He looked up at the sound of footsteps, mentally chastising himself for the anticipation in his heart.

He was not to be disappointed.

Tomas stood in the door, a familiar envelope in his hand. "M'sieur Pfieffer sends his apologies. He has been out of town and did not get back till this day. He wanted me to give this to you," he said as he held out the envelope.

Erik was across the room and taking the letter before Tomas could finish his words. He wanted to rip the envelope open but calmed his racing heart and slowly slipped a finger beneath the wax seal. He reached in for the letter and withdrew a small parcel, a question crossing his face. Erik gently unfolded the tissue paper to reveal a small gold locket on a very delicate chain. Carefully opening it, a small gasp escaped his lips as he saw the miniatures of Annalise and Christine. His Christine. His beloved Angel.

"Oh, Christine," he said softly, a sob in his voice. Erik carefully undid the chain's clasp and placed the locket around his neck, hiding it beneath his shirt and turning his attention to the letter he held.

"Dearest Erik, I fear this letter must be brief, as I need to get it to my maid so that she can deliver it to the post. I would post it myself but have been forbidden from leaving the house. My parents insist it is for my safety and I shall honor their wishes as they are my parents, yet, I find I do not understand what is happening. I do not understand why a simple sheet of music from an opera called "Hannibal" and a gold party mask with pink roses should cause such an unGodly commotion! These things have come to me but I do not know who sent them. All I know is they have terrified my mother. My father has not fared any better - I have discovered that he has a temper I had not seen till this time - and says that it is because these things remind him and Maman of the fire that destroyed the opera house. I wish I could talk to them but I am afraid to do so for fear of what new reaction I might provoke. I find my comfortable prison to be very lonely. I am glad I could write out my thoughts and send them to you. I hope that you will send happy thoughts and honest prayers my way. I know that such things, coming from someone who has such deep love in his heart, will cheer my sad days. Your loving friend, Annalise. PS - I thought you would like this locket as you said I have a great look of my mother about me. Wear it well and know that I think of you often."

The joyful look that had begun on Erik's face the moment that Tomas had walked into the room with letter in hand had darkened and grown deathly grim as he read the words Annalise had written on the paper. "No one takes my place," he muttered darkly, lifting his eyes to look at Tomas. "Ready the carriage and horses."

"But it is nearing night!" Tomas said. "Surely it can wait till the morning."

"Do not question me on this, Tomas," Erik told him in a strange tone of voice. "You have been a good and loyal friend but there is something I must do."

"But you do not sleep well. You must get some sleep!"

"I must save a young girl from a nightmare you cannot even begin to imagine." Erik shook his head. "I will do whatever it takes to save her and sleep be damned!"

And in another carriage, another man found he could not sleep, either, and for the nearly the same reasons. His thoughts, too, were wrapped up in the same young girl; but whereas Erik wanted to save her from her nightmares, he wanted to wrap her up in them, punish her for her sins. He balled his hands into fists as his anger at her grew.

It had not worked.

All his plans, all the preparations, all the dominoes he worked so carefully to align had fallen but they had not fallen according to his desires.

How could one infuriating slip of girl be so indecisive? Why would she not just say what he wanted to hear? Why could she not just do as he wanted? He did not have the answers to why and was sure that he no longer cared. He did not need them. He fingered the bottle in his jacket pocket and glanced at the wooden box on the seat next to him, smiling, knowing that he had the means to his ends.

She would belong to him or she would not belong to anyone.

He leaned back against the carriage seat, closing his eyes, willing sleep to come for sleep would bring with it an all too short oblivion from the emotional maelstrom in which he found himself lost.

The girl he hated and loved with every single breath was also finding sleep elusive. The images and emotions of the last several days kept playing themselves in Annalise's mind every time she laid her head upon her pillow, closing her eyes, seeking a few moments of respite. She would hear her parents' story over and over again, hearing her father struggle for breath, seeing her mother in the arms of another man. She would see her older brothers draw their wives and children behind closed doors as she approached, their fear of her and what she would bring evident upon their faces. She would hear the bitter laughter of her youngest brother, his words of condemnation ringing in her ears. She would turn from all of them to find two men waiting for her; one respectful yet passionate, willing to wait for her to come to him; the other outspoken, telling her what he wanted, strangely comforting in his honesty. As the dawn began to show pink through her window, Annalise gave up trying to sleep, getting up and going to sit at her dressing table.

She looked at herself in the mirror, sighing and running a hand through her thick curls. "They are only dreams," she said softly. "None of it is real. They are only dreams." She looked down to see her sketchbook on the floor and picked it up. She opened it to look at the picture she had sketched of Erik barely a month earlier. "Not all of them are dreams, are they?" There was a definite sob in her voice as she studied the face of the gentle man she had met in the woods. "How could you have done those things to my parents? Why would you do them to me?" Annalise closed her eyes and cried silently for a moment. "I do not want to believe it is you. I do not want ..." She opened her eyes and found her hand reaching for the charcoal pencil on the dressing table. She quickly flipped the page in the sketchbook and began drawing. She wanted to make Erik's profile a whole, perfect face. Annalise needed to see his eyes again. She needed to see Erik as he might have been, as she saw him before hearing of the things he had done to her parents. She wanted the reassurance that her judgment and faith in her fellow man were not just the longings of a child but the truths of an adult. As the pencil stopped, Annalise looked at what she had drawn and was stunned.

That was not her friend! That was not Erik! It was another man entirely and the image and knowledge that she had drawn it without even realizing what she had done confused and amazed Annalise. She studied the face beneath her hands, the tip of the charcoal lightly tracing the outline of the face, the curve of the lips, the depth of the eyes. Annalise's smile began to grow as she listened to her heartbeat in the quiet room, a feeling growing there, its warmth reaching out to fill her whole body, chasing away the dark thoughts in her mind.

"Follow your heart," she whispered as her fingertips touched the lips of the drawing beneath her hands, forgetting the first part of her mother's wisdom - listen to your head. "Why did I not see? You were right there in front of me and why did I not ..." Her voice trailed off, as she fought down the small doubts picking at the back of her mind. Annalise turned the page back to the profile she had done of Erik. "You were right," she said to the drawing, the tears threatening to come again, "you were right. He was right there in front of me and I almost missed it." She touched her fingers to her lips and placed them on the sketch. "And I am sorry. You would never hurt me. In spite of everything, I know you would never hurt me." Annalise stood and looked out the window at the new morning. "But now I have to hurt the feelings of a very lovely man. Being an adult is a difficult thing," she sighed as she went to get ready for the day ahead.

Her sorrow at having to dash the dreams of one man was quickly overshadowed by the thought that she had fallen in love with the other. It was a thought that brought the color back to her cheeks and the sparkle back to her eyes. Annalise found herself floating through her morning, the content, satisfied smile never leaving her face. She chattered nonsense about the previous evening's party all the way through breakfast much to the relief of her father who felt a great weight lift as the daughter Raoul cherished seemed to have been given back to him. Christine, a bit wiser in the ways of young girls, recognized the happy smile on her daughter's face and she made a mental note to find a moment to speak with Annalise later that day. Christine still did not trust the world around them and wanted to be sure that her daughter was not making a mistake that would only hurt her in the end.

It was nearing mid-afternoon when Annalise got up from the piano, deciding to go in search of her brother. She wanted to speak with Gustave as she felt she need of his counsel before she began talking to the two men who had both said they loved her. She walked into the hallway to find her father coming in the front door.

"My dear," Raoul said a smile as he walked to greet his daughter.

"Have you seen Gustave? I want to talk with him and I do not wish to go searching through every single room to try and find him."

"But would I not do as well?" her father asked, an amused twinkle in his eye.

Annalise giggled. "I am saving a special time for you and Maman for tonight."

"Then I am content," Raoul told her as he kissed her cheek. "Your brother went out riding earlier. You may want to check at the stables. Before you go, have you seen your mother?"

"She is upstairs resting, I think."

"Go find your brother and I shall go and check on your mother," Raoul gave his daughter a quick hug and watched as she walked out the front door. He walked up the stairs and turned down the hallway. He opened the door to the bedroom he shared with Christine and found she was not there. He closed the door, a frown on his face. "Where did she go?" he wondered out loud.

"Raoul!" he heard an urgent voice calling him.

Raoul quickly strode down the hallway and into the open door of his daughter's bedroom. He found Christine sitting on Annalise's bed, her daughter's sketchbook open on her lap, a letter and a handkerchief on the bed beside her. Christine's face was white, she was breathing rapidly and shaking her head from side to side. The sight frightened Raoul and he crossed the room to sit by her side, taking her icy hands in his own, turning her chin so that she looked at him. "What's happened?" he wanted to know. "What's wrong?"

Christine reached over and handed him the letter and the handkerchief. She watched, as his worried look grew dark and deadly. "You need to see this, as well," she said in a soft voice.

Raoul looked down at the open page of his daughter's sketchbook and uttered something that made Christine clasp her hands over her ears.

"Raoul, please," Christine tried when her husband grew quiet. "Where is Annalise? We have got to find her and talk with her. Now!"

"She went to the stables to find Gustave," Raoul said as he stood, drawing Christine up with him. He held her for a moment. "I know you still think of him," he whispered to her. "I never wanted anything like this to happen. You have to believe that."

"I do," Christine whispered back. "But I need to find my daughter, Raoul. Please!"

Their daughter had been to the stables, only to find that her brother had still not returned from his ride. Annalise had smiled prettily at the stable hand and he had told her that Gustave had gone riding in the fields that lay just behind the garden wall. Annalise thanked the young boy and walked through the gardens, towards the back wall. She stopped in front of the hidden gate, debating within herself, and decided that the world outside of the walled-in gardens represented freedom and she felt strangely invincible. Annalise pulled back the ivy and opened the gate. As she walked through and into the open fields, she thought better of things and decided to leave the gate open. She stood for a moment, scanning the open fields. She saw two figures on horseback off in the distance. Annalise concentrated and felt her heart sink as she took note of the hair color of the rider with her brother. She would have to break the news sooner to him than she had hoped. She remembered seeing daisies near to the woods by the roadside and walked towards them. Daisies were sunny and happy and Annalise hoped they would cushion the words she needed to say.

"Is that not your sister?" the man riding with Gustave said.

Gustave gently pulled on the reins, steadying the powerful horse beneath him. "It is. What is she doing out of the gardens?"

"Picking flowers," the other man said and sighed. "And who the devil is that?"

Gustave looked as a coach stopped by the side of the road and a man got out, approaching his sister. He felt his shoulders tense as he raised himself in the saddle. He could not see who the person was but it looked like his sister knew him. Gustave sat back down. "I have no idea," he said as he saw Annalise extend her hand. "Obviously she knows him."

Annalise was as surprised as her brother by the arrival of the coach. She had just stood up, a bunch of wild daisies in her hand when she noticed the coach and the opening door. She had smiled when she saw who it was that emerged from the open door. He had walked over to her, extending his hand in greeting.

"What are you doing here?" she wondered, the smile and delight growing on her face.

"I was passing by and I happened to look out my window and there you were," he told her. "I thought myself quite fortunate and ordered my driver to stop. I had wanted to talk with you and this was an opportunity I could not pass by."

"I would like to talk with you, as well" Annalise assured him, the color rising in her cheeks, "but I would like to have a bit more privacy." She leaned a little closer, dropping her voice. "There is something important I need to tell you." She was a little stunned when his hand crept from holding her hand to holding her wrist.

"I know a place where we can have all the privacy you would ever need," he whispered to her.

Annalise looked down as she felt the grip on her wrist tighten. "That hurts," she told him, wondering at his strange actions. "Please let me have my hand back." She looked up into his eyes, the eyes that had previously only looked at her with love and saw something there that caused her nerves to dance on edge. "Please, let me go!" She asked as she tried to pull her arm away from him, only to feel the grip on her wrist grow stronger. Annalise looked back over her shoulder at her brother off in the distance.

Gustave had been watching the interaction between his sister and the strange man from the coach closely. He had noticed when she began to pull her arm away from him. "Damn it!" he shouted as he dug his heels into his horse's flanks, racing across the fields, leaving his riding companion to catch up.

The man holding so tightly to Annalise's wrist had also noticed her look back over shoulder and saw a rider approaching them. He snarled as the rider drew near, taking note of who it was.

"Gustave!" Annalise shouted as the man holding on to her, yanked her arm, hard, pulling her to his side.

"Annalise!' her brother called back as the powerful stallion he rode quickly closed the distance between them, noticing who it was that held her, feeling his temper grow. "Let her go!" he shouted.

"Little chance of that," the man said softly as he reached into his cloak.

Annalise took her frightened eyes from Gustave, to see what the man was doing. "No!" she exclaimed as she saw him pull out a pistol and aimfor her brother. She knew that Gustave would not be able to stop the horse in time to avoid the bullet so Annalise did the only thing she knew how to do as that man's finger began to squeeze down on the trigger. She pulled away from him, throwing him off balance, pointing the barrel of the gun a bit lower.

"No!" Annalise screamed as the echo of the gunshot rang in her ears and her brother fell from his saddle, a pool of red beginning to spread outward from his upper chest. She saw the other rider closing the distance. "Help me!" she screamed as the man she was with gripped her tightly about the waist, dragging her into the coach which sped away down the road and towards the country.

Gustave lay on the ground, stunned and bleeding, but struggling to get up and go after his sister, her scream echoing in his head. He looked up as four legs stopped by his side and saw his riding companion through his blurred vision. "No," he breathed heavily. "Don't stop! Go after her!" Gustave raised himself to his knees. "Go!" he shouted and watched as his companion raced off down the road, chasing after the man who had taken his sister.

Gustave found that his knees began to shake and he could not find the strength to stay in a kneeling position. He collapsed to all fours and was about to sink the rest of the way back to the earth when he felt a pair of strong hands beneath his shoulders, turning him over. The movement jarred the wound in his chest and he gasped in pain.

"No, no, no," he heard a female voice crying and struggled to focus his vision. He looked up to find his father, pale and concerned, staring back at him. A voice echoed in his ears, "Christine, quickly!" and Gustave heard the sound of something tearing.

"Gustave," Raoul said as he placed something white against the bullet word to staunch the blood flow, "what happened?"

Gustave looked at the sky, trying to see past the pain. His mother's face was there, drawn and frightened.

"Oh, God!" Christine breathed, as she fell to her knees, reaching out gentle fingers to touch her son's face. Her heart leapt into her throat when his eyes began to roll back into his head. "Stay with me, please, stay with me!" She pleaded and looked to her husband. "Help, Raoul, we have to get help!" Christine turned her attention back to her son and felt her heart return when Gustave focused his eyes on her face.

"It hurts," he said like a small child, his breaths rapid and shallow.

Christine left one hand on her son's face and took one of his hands in her free one. "I know, my baby," she said, fighting to keep the tears from her voice. "Maman is right here."

"I'm sorry ..." Gustave began, inhaling sharply, gripping his mother's hand. "I tried ... Annalise ..."

"Where is your sister?" he heard his mother ask from a great distance.

"I could not ..." Gustave drew a deep, shuddering breath. "I could not stop them." He focused on his father's face, grim and drawn. A sharp pain ripped through him as Raoul pressed harder on the compress. "He has her. He took Annalise," he managed before the world grew black before his eyes.