In Discovery

Christine had been certain she would not know a moment of sleep in her fear for Erik. Indeed, she had laid awake in the darkness for hours envisioning the worst, terrified that the morning would bring headlines of the Phantom's capture or…death. Yet her mind could not entirely overcome the exhaustion of her body, and eventually she did fall into a fitful sleep.

The morning, thankfully, did not bring any bad news. In fact, it brought no news at all. There were no headlines in L'Epoque that even mentioned the Phantom of the Opera and Madame Giry took this as a good sign. She could sense Christine's impatience and knew she would not again be able to hold the girl back from her search for Erik.

Once again, the older woman had accompanied Christine towards the catacombs. There had been several police visible on patrol around the Opera House, and Christine's anxiety had doubled. Antoinette had attempted to calm her, but in truth, she'd been worried herself, wondering how to go about entering the tunnels without being discovered. There was an entrance at Rue Canal behind a little bookstore which she had used shortly after the fire, and she decided it would be their best chance. Both ladies took great care to make certain they had not been followed.

Thankfully, Rue Canal had been free of any police observation, and they felt confident that their venture was not bringing any immediate danger to Erik. Still, their progress through the darkness was careful, neither being entirely certain what, or whom, they would find in the passageways. There was no telling where Erik might be, or what blackness had consumed him once again. Each step caused Christine's heart to speed.

I cannot feel him here. Why can I not feel him?

It felt as though they'd been wandering the labyrinth for hours before reaching Erik's hidden chamber, and as soon as they drew near, Christine felt the familiar tingle in her blood. She stilled in the passageway, and before she could stop herself, she let his name fall from her lips in a hopeful whisper. "Erik?" She turned to see a movement in the shadows, and was at once racing towards it. Madame Giry had turned as well, and was relieved to see Erik stepping from the darkness as Christine flew into his arms, clutching him tightly and sobbing. "Erik, oh Erik…you're alright…"

He stood stiffly in the circle of her arms, his eyes moving beyond her towards Madame Giry. When he spoke, his voice was cold, "You should not have brought her here, Madame."

Antoinette had stepped closer to the couple, and keeping her voice low, she told him, "I could not have kept her away."

Christine, having finally gathered herself together, pulled away from Erik just enough to level her gaze on his drawn face. He looked terrible, his eyes dull and his hair uncombed, little tuffs sticking out at odd angles. His white shirt was wrinkled and stained with dirt, hanging un-tucked from his trousers with the top buttons opened to expose his pale chest. Yet even in this state he was a welcome sight to Christine. "Tell me what has happened, Erik."

He averted his eyes. "Not here. They might be back."

"The police?" Antoinette asked.

Erik nodded curtly and pulled Christine's arms away from him, and without another word he walked away from them. The action stunned Christine for a moment, and she struggled to make her feet move to follow. Erik had already tripped the panel and disappeared through the wall when Christine and Madame finally came upon the opening of the chamber.

Christine paused a moment before crossing the threshold. She turned to Madame Giry with a strength of purpose in her eyes. "Madame, perhaps I should speak with him alone."

Antoinette frowned and shook her head. "I am afraid he may not be in the best state of mind, child."

"Please, Madame. I will be alright now. You should go back. Perhaps you might hear some…news about the investigation." Reluctantly, Antoinette nodded in assent, but waited before she turned to leave until Christine disappeared through the doorway and the wall slid back into place once more.

The moment she was inside, Christine let out a tiny little gasp as she took in the state of the room she stood within. The desk was tipped over and papers strewn across the floor. The wooden chair had been smashed and lay splintered as a victim of Erik's rage.

"Madame Giry?"

Christine turned to look at Erik, who stood pressed against the far wall watching her warily. "She has gone back up."

He made no reply, only stood silent and unmoving against the wall with eyes dull and lifeless. Christine found herself once again rushing forward and falling into his arms, needing to touch him and know that he was well. His arms remained at his sides, his entire posture rigid and unmoving. "You should not be here, Christine. They are hunting me again. I've ruined it. Ruined our chance of ever escaping."

Christine looked at him sharply, taking his face in her hands. "No, Erik! You have ruined nothing. This will pass."

Erik roughly drew her hands from his face, a trace of madness creeping into his eyes. "I was dead, Christine. A ghost. No one sees a ghost. But I have been seen. I have been seen and named and they know I am alive. If I am alive, they can find me. They will hang me for what I have done." His tone was cold and deadly, "Unless I strike first…"

Christine fisted her hands into his shirt and tried to shake him. "Stop it! Do not say that! They will not find you, Erik. I will not let them."

He pried her hands away with a maniacal laugh, the chilling sound sending a shiver through Christine. His eyes flashed and his voice grew harsh and accusing, "You will not let them? You! Little Christine Daae? Do you really think yourself with any power in this?"

His cruel words seemed to snap something within her, and she pushed against his chest with all her strength, pressing him to the wall. Her own eyes flashed in anger. "I have all the power that you have given me, Erik. Your chains belong to me! I will not let you go! I will not lose you to your black despair! We will leave Paris together and we will be safe and happy, you damn fool!"

Erik stood leaning against the wall, staring at Christine in utter astonishment. Her anger was truly a sight to behold. Her eyes were bright and wild, her cheeks flushed pink and her chest heaving with the force of her breath. She had never looked more beautiful to him. A short laugh escaped him, "Are you certain there is nothing else you wish to add to that lovely rant, mon ange?"

All at once, Christine's anger drained away and she was wrapping her arms around him again, trembling against his chest as her tears bathed his shirt. "Oh, Erik, please…do not give up on us now. Please…can we not just leave Paris tomorrow as we planned?"

He closed his eyes and sighed, enveloping her in his embrace. "You…you must know what I've done…"

She raised her eyes to his. "I know a man was…attacked. But he is alive, Erik. You haven't broken your promise to me."

Erik shook his head, "I wanted to. It would have been so easy, Christine. So easy."

Christine took a deep breath, nodding slightly. "Why…why did you…?"

"He was…attacking a woman…a prostitute, I think…and I…I wanted to kill him, Christine. I wanted to kill…someone…and he was there…convenient. A perfect victim."

There was a note of desperate longing in his voice that told Christine his bloodlust was far from sated. She drew a steadying breath, "But you didn't kill him, Erik. You stopped yourself."

"A dog on a leash, my dear, but when the leash comes off…"

Christine met his eyes evenly. "Dogs can be trained, Erik. With love and patience and understanding."

Erik's eyes filled with an odd sort of humor, "Mon ange, I realize that I am ever a dog at your feet, but perhaps we should end the metaphor before you have me sitting up to beg."

Christine could not keep herself from laughing a little through her tears. After all the uncertainty and worry of the past two days, it felt so good just to be near him again. She pressed her lips to his throat, tasting the salt of his skin. Then she drew his face to hers and kissed him, whispering against his lips, "I certainly shall have you begging, angel."

Erik closed his eyes, a slight smile playing on his lips as he let Christine weave her fairytale around him, if only for a short while. He knew this moment would soon pass, and they would be left to face the cold reality that awaited them outside of this chamber. The promise he'd made her was certain to be broken should he be discovered.

A/N: There...no cliffie. Our couple is only a day away from leaving Paris. Will the police be a problem at this late date...? Until the next installment. Happy Labor Day.