AN - I'm sorry to have been away guys, but my uncle recently died and we had to go out of town to see him before he went. This is why it'll take a little bit before the next chapter, and I'm not going to answer anyone's specific reviews.

Chapter twenty-five – Innocence lost

Wandering child . . .
So lost . . .
So helpless . . .

Paris was a beautiful city during the day. Café's and Bistro's lined the streets, carriages clattered back and forth, and the sun shone down on the French. Things were always busy in the streets, when women shopped at boutiques and men walked the streets during their lunch-break.

The night was different.

Some areas of Paris slumbered during the darkness. They quieted, closed down, and waited for the next morning. Some areas, stayed alive, taking on a more sinister life. Like the village of Monmarte, somewhere sinister during the day to begin with, and were, indeed, no place for children.

Under the circumstances, however, some children are stuck in situations or places that they don't deserve. In a little apartment, just outside of Paris in the suburbs, were two such children.

Their father was dead, their uncle was dead, or was as good as just that. And now, after only eight months with their grandfather, they were alone.

There he sat, the old man, still in the position he had fallen asleep in. His long hair fell around his droopy face, which lay against his shoulder, his arms rested limp at his sides. There sat an empty bottle of wine on the table. The room lay deathly quiet, other than the rain tapping against the window.

In the corner of the room, a small girl still slept on a pile of hay. Her golden hair, which had been a trait of her mother, fell over her eyes and the rags she wore barely kept her warm, she shivered on the bed small bed. But she had had a roof over her head. She had had a sanctuary.

In front of the man, a boy with jet-black hair stared numbly at their sole provider. He had not liked the old man, ever since his father and uncle died, his grandfather had taken it out on him. He bared a striking resemblance to his father, and when his grandfather got drunk he had been cuffed upside the head many times, yelled at and called by his fathers name. It was obvious the old drunken fool would drink too much than think the young child his own lost son. He would take the beatings, grateful his sister did not bear a resemblance to any of the old man's children, so that she was spared the grief. Often, he had taken care of his sister when the drunk blacked out.

No, the young boy had not liked him, but he knew that without him, things were going to get worse.

Much worse.

( ' ) '
-

And now my wish comes true -
you have truly made my night!

"Oh god above, where are you, please, please, please..." Erik said as he searched the large lair looking for the baby Danielle. Ever since she had mastered the ability to crawl she was always on the move, and as he had gone to get a clean cloth to use as a diaper, she had snuck away.

It had been raining when they had reached the surface of the street. He had wrapped her cloak more securely around her, but she kept shrugging it open, rubbing her eyes with her little fists and shaking her curly head no.

Jacque had stood there, not surprised this time by the young girl. He had never been late since the phantom's threats, and even then, the next time Erik had come to him, he had kept his promise to never leave Danielle alone again.

"Bloody Christ!" Jacques exclaimed at the sight of Danielle. "It's a baby!"

"Yes, very good Jacques." Erik replied gravely. "Now, can you tell me what that pretty thing over there that light's the night is?" Erik asked pointing to a lantern.

Jacques gave a small smirk realizing he had indeed pointed out the very obvious.

"I know I'm a bit slow sir, but you have to understand my surprise that you's gots a babe with you." Jacque said with a sheepish grin. He had been trying to talk more eloquently these days with his boss, though he still was sometimes rough around the edges.

"I understand the predicament Jacque, I just find it intriguing how you manage to point out the obvious." Erik sighed.

"May I hold her?" Jacques asked, holding out his arms in a gesture to show himself harmless. Erik hesitated a moment before realizing he could kill Jacques almost instantaneously without ever harming the baby. It was then he was all right with placing the child within the arms of the boy.

"She's a beaut', I had always wondered why you fancied so much milk and cloths. If you had asked for baby clothes, I would have figured it out, but all you asked for was fabric." Jacques said cradling the sleeping baby girl in his arms. Erik watched with a touch of anxiety at the boy holding his Danielle.

"Yes, well I happen to be a sufficient tailor." Erik replied a little antsy. His hands clasped and unclasped. He was trying to subdue the desire to hold Danielle once more. Though he never showed it, it was obvious that Erik was terrified that Jacques was going to run off with the precious child that he held.

"Alright, you've looked at her long enough, none of her features are going to miraculously change, you can hand her over now." Erik said demandingly and placed his arms out to receive the girl.

Jacques hesitated a moment, then placed her back into Erik's waiting arms.

"May I be so bold to ask a question sir?" Jacques enquired.

"You just did…" Erik replied, wrapping the blanket around the girl.

"Then another sir?" Jacques asked.

Erik looked at him with a blank stare. It was obvious the boy did not understand the hidden meaning, or the irony of the response. He could just see it now, they'd be standing there till dawn him saying 'you already have,' hoping Jacques would get the idea and leave the situation alone. He knew what the boy wanted to ask, and he was not going to answer the question. All the while Jacques would overlook the subtly of Erik's good nature and try to find an adequate way of asking his burning question.

Sighing, Erik merely looked at the boy and stated, "No."

"Hello Belle, how are you tonight?" The young man asked the 9-month-old baby. Erik had refused to tell him her name, and so Jacques had christened her with the nickname the second time he had met her. She smiled and reached towards Jacques with her arms outstretched. She had gotten used to the routine. Erik would hand her over for many reasons. Firstly, so he could look over what Jacques had provided him and derive a price that suited what was brought. Secondly, so he could retrieve his money, and remove it from a small purse, then give it to Jacques, and thirdly, just to please the girl. She had some fascination with the young man.

"I also brought you some fruit, my sister has a baby her age and mashes it up and feeds it to her. It gives you more options than the milk."

Erik looked up from where he knelt beside the bag sorting through it. There was his Dani, laughing and playing with the man. He felt no shame, no anxiety to see them together; he finally knew Jacques understood how much he needed to raise her. What Jacque didn't know was he had been mashing solid foods for her for a few months.

Slipping a few more coins than usual into Jacques purse, Erik rose and placed it in the young man's hands.

"Treat yourself well my friend. Propose to the girl." Erik said tossing the purse into his one hand. Jacques face paled. He sputtered, then whispered,

"How did you know?"

In all honesty, Erik had merely surmised that to be the situation. But again, he had always been good at picking up on situations.

"She's really not your sister is she? She's some girl you love. Be a father to that child." Erik said, hastily taking Danielle into his arms.

"Thank you sir," was all Jacque could say before he walked away.

When Erik got Danielle home, he mashed the peaches to mush before placing Danielle in a highchair.

The entire experience was quite unique. It seemed there was more peach on Danielle and Erik than inside her little body. He then gave her a bath. Once finished, he had left her for a few moments, which lead to this predicament.

"This child is getting harder to handle by the day... Oh Danielle, please, please don't be hurt." He said his heart racing. He had put away many things that were considerably dangerous to her when she broke one of his vases.

She was not in her shrine of a room with toys everywhere, nor was she in the den, near the fireplace... He was thankful for that, she would be covered in soot if she were there. He finally looked into his room.

There she was sitting with her face away from the door right beside his coffin. Her little body was still wet from the water, but she did not shiver sitting naked in the middle of the floor. She was making cooing sounds and pointing to the music box that was sitting on his wardrobe. The very music box he would put her to sleep every night with in Christine's old room.

"Danielle?" He called to her.

She turned and saw him standing there, "Aaaaaaahhhhh...Noooooooooo," She said with a soft squeal at the sight of the man who looked after her.

"Hello there, little Angel, thought you could sneak away from Erik?" he asked her and cocked his brow. She looked up at him with happiness in her eyes.

She shook her head and smiled while she rubbed one eye with her fist. Erik was sure that she had grown hair much faster than the majority of infants because it was already beginning to curl around the edges of her face. He chuckled at her toothy grin, remembering all the hell she had put him through while teething.

"Ewriiiiiiiik" she said.

His heart leapt, he had been listening to her mimicking noises and trying to copy him.

"What did you say?" He asked.

"Whad dad u sah?" she asked looking at him with wonder in the large blue eyes.

Erik laughed at as joy overfilled his heart. She laughed as well and turned back to the monkey out of her reach. She crawled over to the base of his feet and raised her arms in a sign of being picked up. It wasn't her first word, it wouldn't be her last, but he was so overwhelmed with the situation, he didn't care.

"Erik?" He said pointing to himself.

"Ewik..." She said opening her hands and closing them.

"Erik..." He said and happily picked up the little girl.

"Erik loves you so."

( ' ) '
-

Farewell
my fallen idol
and false friend . . .

Raoul sat there looking over papers that looked like they were written in a foreign language. Slowly he turned the paper around and noticed it made more sense the right side up. Silly me, he thought, but even right side up the words were blurred past the point of recognition.

Well, this has taken a lot of effort for nothing, time to reward myself.

"I think I need a drink," He mumbled aloud and looked at the bottle in front of him.

Empty.

That has been happening a lot lately, he thought. Maybe some whiskey tonight since the brandy has been polished off. When he got up to retrieve a fuller bottle, he instantly fell over to the floor beside the chair.

How did I get here on the floor?

Suddenly the door opened and a servant girl entered "Mlle Gi... oh pardon me sir, I shall send her aw..." the little servant blushed and began to close the door.

"Send her in! Send her in, she have seen worse in worser states." He said in a happy tone. It was about time Meg arrived, he loved her company, he loved her smile, and she made him happy for brief moments. He stared dumbly at the maid as she hesitantly opened the door further so Mademoiselle Giry could enter the room. It was obvious to everyone that the study wreaked of spirits. He watched as Meg stepped hesitantly into the room. His first thoughts were on her lovely blue gown, however it wasn't long before he noticed her face grimace in displeasure.

He wasn't surprised, and to be honest, he had hoped that it wouldn't come to that. He was always being nagged at by his brother and… well his brother, but the idea of Meg at him made him sober a mere fraction.

"Will you please leave us Cora?" He asked waving the timid maid out of the room.

"Certainly sir." She hastily replied and humbly bowed before exiting.

"Hello Meg, darling..." He said from his position on the floor, he could see her hard and icy stare as she walked past him and towards his desk to pick up the empty bottle of brandy. The side of silk brushed against his face as she maneuvered around him. He tried to remember when he had seen her this lovely, but she broke into his thoughts with her quiet and determined words.

"I see you are well into your night." She said coldly.

"Meg don't you pretty your worried little head, I will be fine!" He said giggling and trying to stand. It was to no avail, and before he realized what he was doing, he fell into her arms.

"Your drunk." She stated.

"Is there ever a time I'm not?" He asked her, trying to stand and leave her arms. He managed to stand as long as he had his hand on his desk. But she didn't remove her arms right away. He could smell the honey on her hair, her fresh woman scent. He felt a stirring within himself, memories of Christine perspiring beneath him, before he could grasp them, they vanished into the haze of his mind, and Meg had withdrawn her arms from around him.

"You can't keep this up Raoul, you're sinking farther and farther..."

"You sound like my brother," He snorted, cutting her off.

Why must she ruin the moment? He thought, if she really wants to help I could think of a way to take my mind off of Christine. No… it really wouldn't work, it wouldn't be Meg you saw, it would be Christine's eyes on your face, and Christine's skin that you would taste, not to mention Meg would never ever let you touch her like that. She was Christine's best friend for God sakes! That is the only reason why she cares for you, checks up on you, makes sure you haven't killed yourself yet.

"I can't keep doing this Raoul." She said quietly, breaking him from his thoughts. There he stood, swaying against the desk, watching the petite blonde as she bared her soul to him. She was breaking their one golden rule, never to talk about how they truly felt.

"You can't what? You don't seem to be doing anything! " He said, stating the obvious. He was pretty sure he knew what she was trying to say, but he didn't want to hear it. She came out here to spend time with me, goddamn it, I won't have her ruin it by telling me what I don't want to hear.

"That's the problem, you're absolutely right, I am not." She muttered, wrapping her arms around herself. As he gazed at her, he felt guilt buried within his heart, his reaction to Christine's death was doing this to her. This poor girl, all she wanted was to make sure he survived and he was killing her in the process. That didn't stop him though, why should it? She knew what she was getting into, why should he have to protect her from his demise? He once was silly enough to believe his protection was worth anything; it was now that he knew better. Shaking his head, confused by all the thoughts he was thinking at once, he shoved them all back into the depths of his head. What use was it now to think when he was muddling up all these feelings? It was easier to just smile at his guest.

"Nothing to fear then, problem solved! All is well..."

"No not all is well," she said trying to get through to him, "I cannot see you anymore Raoul." She looked in his eyes as she said it to see if there was any reaction. If she had expected him to break down, or be angry with her, she would have been disappointed. For all that happened was they clouded over for a second before he quickly shook the notion and smiled.

"Then that calls for a drink! Let me just find a new bottle..." he stumbled, slumped over away from the desk.

"RAOUL! You cannot keep drinking, please..." She begged, reaching out for him, but he brushed her off. He had never brushed her touch away; she then knew he was upset with her.

"Nonsense, it will be fine, it always is..." he said bitterly.

"It's not fine, you do this you will die Raoul, you've gone lower than Chris..."

"SHUT UP!" He screamed slapping her in the face. It had not been that hard, a mere clumsy strike, but it was their friendship he had wounded more. She covered her face with her hand in disbelief, stared at him with tears in her eyes, shocked he would ever hurt her. He felt tears well in his eyes, the shame burn from within that he would ever lift a finger to his closest friend.

"Meg… please, I am so s…" he started, stumbling towards her, wanting to hold her, stroke her and tell her he was wrong. Christine would be so ashamed of him, so disgusted that he would ever harm another human being. As he tried to get towards her she cowered at his touch and stepped out of the way of his embrace. He wasn't ready for such a quick motion and he found himself on the ground. She would never let him near her again; she would never let him repent for his crime against her. If there had been any chance of winning her back, he had lost it now; their friendship would never get past this. He couldn't tell if it was the thought that he would never be able to see Meg again or the idea that every woman he had ever cared remotely for had left him that did it, but right there on the study floor, he began to sob uncontrollably.

Meg let a tear fall as she lowered herself to him cautiously. She stayed a distance away, but reached out an arm to touch his shoulder cautiously.

"You need to stop drinking, for you are lower than six feet under the world, you have hit rock bottom and if it weren't for your fancy clothes, wealth and title, you wouldn't be recognized out of any other drunkard that hang around the brothels of Paris." She said with some small semblance of spite.

"Enough please, Meg leave me alone..." He said angrily and looked her in the face. "You are not my wife Meg, you will never be Christine." He said with venom.

She stood slowly, her sad face pink by his touch, but no mark would show in the morning. That didn't matter now anyways, she looked at him one last time before she left him forever.

"No one ever will be." Was all she could say.