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11

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Raoul watched them squeeze through the bushes and disappear from his seat in a restaurant across the road. He adjusted his eyepeice and squinted through it once more, trying to inspect the bushes for any further sign of their appearance.

"More tea, Vicomte?" a waiter asked from behind. The Vicomte had not heard him, though. He was deep in thought. The waiter nudged Raoul on the arm. "More tea?" He repeated as Raoul looked at him hastily.

"Yes. Another one will be fine. Now go away and don't bother me anymore. I'm very busy."

"Yes, Vicomte," The waiter said with indifference, re-filled Raoul's teacup with liquid and disappeared.

Raoul placed a finger in the teacup's tiny handle and lifted the porcelain to his lips. As he sipped, with the free hand he lifted the eyepeice to his face once more and surveyed the bushes. He spotted some color moving behind them and a smile came over his disfigured face. He began to laugh steadily and booming to himself.

"Ha ha ha ha ha! I've got you now!"

He paused to sip his tea, then resumed laughing.

"Where are we to go?" Erik asked Christine, leading her along the bushes.

She shrugged at him and was about to say that she didn't know when an idea popped into her head suddenly. "We could go by father's old cabin."

"Your father had a cabin? Around here?"

"Yes. A very nice one, indeed. When I was a child I used to play there with Ra-- by myself."

Erik cast her a glance of disapproval, then replied, "Alright. Then lead the way, my angel."

They trekked all around the Paris roads, sure to stay hidden amongst various shrubs and trees along the way. Feeling rather cold from the winter weathers against his bare upper body, Erik was in search of a covering to shield him from the airs. Passing along the bushes, looking through the limited amount of viewing through their spaces, Erik noticed a house which had a clothes line spanning from the house's side to a large tree. He stopped walking, Christine stopping as well and wondering what he was up to, and peered through the shrubbery at the clothes line. He eyed the various garments hung up on the wire, looking to see if any were suitable to his liking, then saw several white shirts next to eachother which resembled something he could see himself wearing and his dilemma was solved. He turned around to Christine and said, "Stay here. I'll be back." And with that, he squeezed himself through the bushes and small trees, making sure he would not scratch himself along their spiky leaves and branches, and crossed over to the house.

Christine watched from a distance, still unsure of what he was doing, as he hid behind the large tree on which the clothes line was attached. He disappeared from her vision and her heart began to pound at a quicker rate until a moment later she saw a hand reach out from behind the tree and grab a garment from the clothing wire. She realized that she was a fool to have thought, even for a brief second, that he was going to leave her. He was simply in search of a concealment-- Not that he really needed to hide such a superb build. To Christine, it was perfectly fine if he wanted to roam about disrobed. She liked the way he looked. But she decided that it would probably be best it he covered up because it was dreadfully cold and even with his cape she was still shivering, therefore he was probably colder.

Lost in her thoughts, when Erik appeared in front of her sporting a new shirt she had not seen him come back and was a bit startled. "Is my new selection of apparel to your liking?" He asked, smiling at her.

"Honestly? I think it makes you look fat."

Erik's jaw dropped. "I'm just kidding. I like it. It really suits you," She assured.

He closed his mouth and took on a look of bafflement. They continued to walk along the bush-lined way.

Once as they walked, a child saw them through a cutout in the trees and began to cry. Erik shushed the wailing child, hoping he would not attract attention to them. They rushed past the child just as its father came to gather it. "What's wrong?" The father asked the child.

The child simply pointed to the trees and began to cry again. The father looked at the trees and saw the receding figures of Erik and Christine escaping off into the distance. With a furrowed brow, he scooped the child up into his arms and carried him off to the house in which they lived in so he could comfort him more effectively.

"It's just around here," Christine said, recognizing the area she had spent much of her childhood in, vaguely. They crossed over to a group of bushes, then cut through a large grassy lot. Christine stopped suddenly, Erik following suit. She extended a finger and pointed across the lot to a large wooden cabin that sat on the snow covered ground. It was a picturesque scene, like something you would see in a modern painting.

"This is it?" Erik asked, breaking the silence.

"Yes. It's been abandoned for years. Well, at least ever since my father..." She broke off, tears beginning in her eyes.

Erik squeezed her arm in reassurance, then they both began to the cabin. There was a small shed to the side of the cabin and behind it grew a large oak tree from the ground. A small wooden swing was attached to one of the oak's branches. Christine broke free from Erik's grasp and with a waning balance, she approached the swing. "Oh, it's still here after all these years," She exclaimed with much emotion in her voice. She turned around to face Erik and placed herself on the swing's seat.

Erik watched her from where he stood some feet away, delighted to see her so happy. He could see that she was re-connecting with her past and childhood, something he would not like to ever do himself, but it was wonderful for her to have the experience of her own.

She pushed herself slowly on the swing, moving back and forth. "I used to play on this swing all the time. My father... he would push me all summer whenever he wasn't busy." A smile came over her face, seeing Erik observing her. Then she began to laugh and looked down at her feet in embarrassment. "We... we had this little byword amongst ourselves about it. It was so dumb... he used to say, 'How many pushes do you think it will take to get you over the branch?' And I'd reply, 'It depends on how much breakfast I've had this morning'." She laughed, sharing the old story, then her laughter turned into tears, realizing her father would never ask her that stupid question again.

Erik rushed to her side and placed a comforting hand over her arm. She stood up from the swing and allowed Erik to lead her in the direction of the cabin. Reaching the doorway, they were stopped by several boards nailed over the passage, blocking their entry. Erik raised his hands to the boards and began shaking one out of its dwelling until it finally came loose in his hands. He threw it off to the side and began to work the rest of the boards. Soon, there was nothing blocking the doorway except the door. Erik pushed his weight on the door and surprisingly it was unlocked. They walked through the threshold and set foot into the old establishment. Christine took a moment to observe the insides of the cabin, noting all the changes that had occurred over the years. It still appeared to be relatively in sameness as it had been the last time she had been inside, though everything was aged, broken, moved around or missing now.

She stumbled across the hardwood paneled flooring, over to a fireplace and its mantle. Once reaching the mantle, she reached up and grabbed a large picture frame from its resting. She looked at the picture for a moment, taking in its visual image, then turned around to Erik. She returned to him with the picture and held it out for him to take. He took it in his grip and placed it in his view.

The picture appeared to be of a young girl and a man who resembled her. There was no mistaking that it was a young Christine and a resembling father. He smiled at the picture, seeing how happy they looked together. He wished he could make her as happy as she had been in the picture, but knew that it would be impossible, for only one man could make her feel in such a way and he was gone now.

"You were a beautiful child, and your father a handsome man," Erik said in reference to the picture. "And you are still beautiful, my love," he added, handing the frame back to her carefully. She looked at him with glassy eyes and smiled weakly, then clutched the picture frame to her chest, embracing it as though it were really her father rather than just a memento of his being.

Christine let out a long sigh. "Oh, there's so many memories here." she said, looking all around the cabin. "I wish I could share them with you, but there are just too many. And if I tried, I may forget some and that would not be polite."

"Well. How about you just try what you can and if you miss any, so what?"

Christine smiled at him longingly. He knew how to make a woman feel special. "Alright, then. Come with me," She said, grasping his hand. With her other hand clutching the picture of her father to her chest, she led Erik through a hallway and into a room. At first glance, it was quite obvious that it was a child's room. A little girl's room.

"This is your room?" He asked, looking around at the pink walls. The paint was peeling badly and most of what was left of the furniture was in disarray but he could still perceive its essence.

"Was, yes. It's deteriorated, though."

There were lightened patches in square and rectangle shapes along the peeling walls. Clearly there had once been pictures over the areas.

"It's... lovely," Erik replied, seeing a spider crawl along the floor in front of his feet and disappear into a pile of dirty rags.

Christine tugged on Erik's sleeve, signaling for him to start moving again. She led them out of her room and further down the old hall, then she turned into a new room, Erik following.

She surveyed the room's innards, then let out a gasp as her eyes passed along one of the room's corners. She rushed forward, losing her balance and falling to her knees in the corner. Erik raised a brow and came up behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. Christine placed the picture she held on the floor next to her and lowered her hands to something that lay in the corner. She picked it up and held it gently, stroking it with care. Tears began from the wells of her eyes. "It's father's violin," she said in a hushed whisper.

Erik's eyes went wide as he focused his vision on the item in her hands more carefully, now noticing that it indeed was a violin. It was in very bad shape, though, falling apart. There were large holes in its wooden framing, the neck was broken off and missing, the strings absent as well, but it was still her father's violin.

"This was father's practice room. I can't believe this was left here. I could've sworn it had been... buried with him," She said with difficulty, her voice cracking and hoarse. "I guess I was wrong."

She propped herself against the dirty floor on the flats of her hands and tried to stand. Her arms wobbling under the pressure of her body being lifted on their support, she made it halfway to her feet before her injured leg felt the pressure and slipped from beneath her. She came down hard on her back across the wood and issued a cry of pain from her lips.

In alarm, Erik bent to her side and patted her forehead gently. "You are not to exercise further pressure on the injury," he said, removing his hand from her head and moving it to the blood-stained skirts of her dress. He pushed them up and began to inspect his makeshift bandaging. "Just as I thought. I will need to change your bandages." He got to his feet, leaving Christine sprawled on the floor with her skirts raised, heading out of the room and to other areas of the cabin, some previously undiscovered.

At once he remembered the pile of dirty rags in Christine's childhood room and headed off to find the room again. After some brief moments of losing his way, he found the turnoff and entered the room with its peeling pink walls. With mild disgust, he reached down to the pile and took up a handful of rags. A rat stared up at him from the area he had just removed the rags from. Erik scoffed at the rat, then turned his back to the room and left, proceeding to his love, Christine.

He returned to her, rags in hand, and placed himself on the floor in front of her once again. He put the new rags down next to him and began removing the used bandaging, which had once been his shirt, from her wound with care. He put the used bandaging on the floor next to him, the opposite side of the new bandaging rags. The used bandages were damp and sticky with red blood. When all of the old bandaging was removed and her leg stood bare, he leaned in to examine the wound. It still looked terrible but the bleeding had ceased and that was a good sign. He took a rag from the pile and rubbed it against the side of his pants, ridding the rag of its dust and grime to the best of his abilities. Then he bent his hand forward and carefully placed it on her leg. He slowly moved it against the flesh, up and down, trying to clean off the excess blood with it. Christine expelled a deep hiss, enduring the pain she felt at the rag's friction against her cut. It took all of her strength to keep from screaming. She wished he would stop, yet knew it was for the best.

Finally, feeling as though it had lasted hours rather than some seconds, the rubbing against her leg stopped and she let out a long sigh of relief. One by one, Erik wiped off each rag and wrapped them around her hindrance until it was re-bandaged. Finishing, he let out a long breath and pulled her dress back over her legs, then raised to his feet and helped Christine up from off the floor.

"Make sure you are placing all of your weight on your good leg," he instructed, helping her to the doorway. As they proceeded down the hall, Christine stopped and turned around. "Father's violin. And my picture. Please go fetch them for me?"

"Of course. But you are to be seated before you fall down again," he replied, ushering her through the rest of the hallway until they reached the front of the cabin. There, he looked around the room for a chair or otherwise and spotted the remains of a sofa bench. The piece of furniture had clearly been a victim of vandalism; half the bench was burnt away to a black crisp and what was not burnt carried childish vulgarities inscribed upon its material. Erik sat her upon the sofa and walked away, off to redeem Christine's collectibles.

On his return, she saw him approach her seating area now with the prized memorabilia in hand. He placed the violin and picture in her lap and sat himself down next to her on the sofa. "Christine... don't you find this a bit odd?" He suddenly asked.

"Odd? I don't understand what you mean."

"The fact that this cabin is here and all of its items intact. Why are they not gone and the cabin sold? I find all of this very strange."

"I see. Well, if you perceive it from my point of view, it is not all that strange to me. After the... passing... it was too hard to seek proper elimination of the articles for a girl of the tender age I was. The easiest thing to do, both in my physical condition as well as my emotional condition was to bar the door and leave it all behind. I could never think of selling all of this," She explained, gesturing to the cabin's innards with her hands as she spoke.

"Yes. That is sensible. Why have you not paid a visit since the passing, though? Surely, you are old enough to go out unaccompanied by yourself now."

"For the same reasons. All these years I could not have bared setting foot in this dwelling, for the pain would be too great. I simply didn't have the heart."

"And suddenly you do?"

She placed a hand over Erik's, which sat on his lap. "Suddenly I do."

They gazed at eachother for a moment, holding deep affection in one another's eyes.

Christine began softly, slowly,"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Say the word and I will follow you. Share each day with me, each night, each morning. Say you love me..." (Andrew Lloyd Webber)

Erik smiled. "You know I do." (ALW)

"Love me, that's all I ask of you,"(ALW) they sang as one, entwining their hands together.

"Christine, I love you."(ALW)

She stood from the seat, obviously forgetting her hindrance and not learning from all the previous times, fell backwards onto Erik's lap. He pushed forward, springing them both to their feet on the ground.

"Thanks for breaking my fall," She said with a laugh, clutching his arm. She turned her head away and peered through a dirty window to her left. "The sun's setting; it will soon be dark. We should find our lodgings. Oh, I know the perfect place. Come with me," She instructed, pulling him forward. He let her lead him through the cabin.

"Remember to keep the weight off of the bad leg."