Here we are ladies and gents…the third chapter! I shall now proceed to give credit to those who reviewed.

Kiwi Anime- Thanks so much for your insightful review of my first chapter and your very flattering one on the second. I really don't know how I feel about this chapter yet, so I look forward to your next analysis.

Osiris Grey- Ah, so you finally DID read it. I knew I'd wear you down eventually.

Onyx and S- Thank you very much. I started my next chapter just for you.

Jenni-nikole- Saw your review in my inbox this morning and it completely lit up my day.

Magick Alianne- Thanks so much. Here is the update my dear.

JennAnn-The first story is always the hardest but it's the reviews (like yours) that keep me going.

LazyCat- Thankies. BTW, I like your username.

Violin Rose- Huggles to my first reviewer…You're going to heaven

Anyhow, one little disclaimer (of a sort). You may think that the Erik I write in these chapters acts differently than the guy we know and love. But, who doesn't act differently around small children?

Real Disclaimer: I own none of these characters in this fic accept for Josephine, Marie, Estelle and Annette.

After Estelle's cutting remarks had chased her from the dormitory, Christine had fled down five flights of stairs, across the great marble floor of the foyer, and out the doors, trying desperately to leave that hateful place far behind her…

Now, almost half an hour later, here she was. Too tired to run anymore, she was breathing hard and sweating, despite the chill of the windy autumn night. The girl peered at the surrounding street. None of this looked familiar to her. She wrapped her arms around herself nervously. In the flickering light of the gas lamps, each shadow seemed like a monster waiting to grab her with vicious claws. Shuddering, she took a deep breath and began to run again, searching for some recognizable landmark. But, alas, the girl had traveled into the backstreets and alleyways of Paris, a labyrinth in which she had become hopelessly lost.

The street's cobbles bruised her stockinged feet as she ran, unable to escape the words that seemed to echo in her head.

"Love? You? Don't make me laugh…You disgusting little brat, you don't matter to anyone!"

Halting abruptly, Christine sank to the ground and pulled her knees to her chest, striving vainly to wipe tears off of her pale cheeks. It's a lie! I matter! I do! She thought desperately. I matter to Meg. I'm her best friend! But…why did she just stand there? Estelle was so cruel…And no one spoke a word in my defense. Not Josephine, not Meg, not Marie…No one…

The tears came faster as the girl put her head down on her arms, her dark hair forming curtains on either side of her face. A gust of wind swept through through the alleyway, causing her to shrink further against the wall in an effort to ward off the chill. A dreadful feeling of unreasonable hopelessness came over her and she moaned softly.

I don't want to be alone…

Moments, or perhaps hours later, the girl was roused from her tear-soaked doze by a gentle touch on her shoulder.

"Are you all right mademoiselle?"

Christine froze. It couldn't be, and yet, there it was. Impossibly, but unmistakably, the voice of her Angel. She began to lift her head and speak, but paused. It couldn't be him. That voice, which seemed so at home in the magical region of the Opera House, seemed strangely out of place in the dingy alley, like finding a pearl in a muddy gutter. It had to be her imagination.

She raised her tear-streaked face to see the shadowy figure of a man kneeling next to her. Feeling a twinge of disappointment, the girl nevertheless tried to answer politely. "Y-yes…I just-I cant seem to-"

"You have been crying" This last was a statement, not a question.

Wondering how he could see her tears in the darkness, Christine nodded miserably. "I…I don't know where I am…I ran away…"And before she knew it, she was telling the stranger the whole story, from Meg's disbelief, to Estelle's wicked words, to her friend's unwillingness to stand up for her. Eventually, her voice dwindled away, leaving an aching silence in its wake.

Her companion, who had been listening attentively throughout the entire narrative, now sat back on his heels and replied softly, "Perhaps you were too quick to condemn Meg. She may very well have defended you after you left the room. Your friends…" He paused for a moment and then continued, it seemed to Christine, a bit sadly. "Your friends are the most valuable things you can have. Don't create battles with the ones who love you."

Christine kept her eyes down, feeling chastised.

Seeing this, the stranger got silently to his feet. "Come, you must return. Someone will have missed you."

The girl looked up at him warily. She knew what could happen to a child wandering the streets alone. It had been dictated to her with great relish many times by Meg. She knew she could be hurt, and yet…she felt herself trusting the stranger implicitly. She slowly stood up and moved out of the shadows, able to see her companion's shape clearly for the first time.

He was tall and thin, dressed all in black and wrapped in a long black cloak. Christine took a step toward him, unable to see his face in the darkness. "You can take me back home?"

The stranger seemed to laugh. "Yes, child. Now, come with me." Not waiting for her reply, the figure turned on its heel and began to walk away. Christine hung back for one last indecisive moment, and then trotted quickly after her escort.

He turned to look at her, his face still hidden in shadow. With a shy smile, Christine slipped her little hand into his; for a brief moment, her companion seemed a bit surprised, but he covered it. Not a word passed between them as they maneuvered, Christine noticed, the backstreets and alleyways: The only places without streetlamps. Christine was about to comment on this when another gust of wind swept past, skittering the dry leaves on the ground and chilling the girl to the bone. Shivering, she ducked under the stranger's cloak, and pressed herself securely against his outer leg and hip, the cloak forming a warm, dark, cashmere tent over her.

Her companion paused and looked down at her small shape obscured beneath his cloak. "Comfortable?"

"Mm-hm."

They continued on in silence.

A quarter of an hour later, Christine's eyelids had begun to droop, her tired feet stumbling over the cobblestones. Her escort put out a black-gloved hand to steady her. "Are you all right?"

"Yes…I'm just so tired…" Running a hand through her curls, the child gave a little gasp of dismay as a short length of pink ribbon fell from her hair to the street. "Oh dear…" She stooped to retrieve it and upon standing, attempted to fasten the ribbon in her hair.

Several tries later, a frustrated Christine turned and held out the bit of satin to her companion. "Could you help me please? Josephine has shown me hundreds of times but I can't seem to be able to do it."

The stranger nodded, taking the ribbon in his hand. Christine turned her back to him, fidgeting impatiently as he tan his fingers gently through her curls, tying them back in one deft movement. The girl tugged experimentally on the ribbon and gave him a smile when it held. She began to thank him, but her voice was drowned in a sudden enormous yawn.

She lifted a hand to rub her eyes. "How much longer 'till we get home?"

"Perhaps ten minutes," came the reply. "Will you be able to make it there?"

Christine tried to take a step forward, but her tired legs collapsed beneath her and she fell heavily against her escort. There was the answer. "I just want to sleep." She looked up at the stranger hopefully. "Could you carry me?"

In the silence that followed her question she could almost hear him raise an eyebrow. Thinking she had offended him in some way, she spoke quickly. "Oh, I'm sorry. That was very rude of me. You are probably just as tired as I am, you shouldn't have to carry me too. I can very easily walk the rest of the way, its not that far, and I-"

Without a word, her companion suddenly leaned over and scooped her into his arms, effectively stopping her babbling. But he held her carefully, as though afraid her might break her.

Christine was taken a bit by surprise at this unexpected turn of fortune, nevertheless, she was most certainly grateful for the ride. Deciding to make herself comfortable, she nestled her head against the stranger's chest, the material of his coat soft beneath her cheek.

Her escort began to walk again, his smooth, graceful stride barely rousing the child in his arms. Lulled by the steady beat of his heart, Christine let her eyes close. "Thank you." Her voice was nearly inaudible.

"You are welcome."

With that polite exchange completed, the girl let herself drift off to sleep, a look of peaceful contentment on her face.

A/N- Well people, like? Not like? Review please. My next update will be really soon, because this chapter wasn't originally intended to end here. But the notebook that I wrote the other half of the chapter in was left on a plane and is now probably en route to Tasmania. Anyhow, I am rewriting it as we speak and will hopefully post it very soon.

coughREVIEWDAMMITcough Sorry, just a little allergy there.