In Flight

In the dark hours before dawn, the shadows danced in the passageways under the Opera Populaire. The ghosts of the past were out for one final haunt, and the most notable among them stood behind the mirror of Christine's dressing room, gazing into the emptiness. Erik was dressed much as he had been on the night he'd first brought her into his world, in a black suit and cloak. The dramatic white mask was absent, replaced by the leather he now favored, and a fedora was firmly settled upon his head. At his feet was a bag filled with the few possessions he wished to carry with him into the future. He'd opted to pack light, taking only what was necessary for the journey. Everything else could be purchased once they safely reached Dover.

If we reach Dover.

His lasso was folded under his cloak, a dagger hidden in his boot, and a blade concealed in the cane he had tucked under his arm. Christine had made no comment at his mention that he might need to defend himself on their exodus from Paris, but he had seen the fear in her eyes. The obvious disapproval. Erik knew his angel was warring with herself, wanting to hold him to the promise he had made to her, but just selfish enough to want him with her at any cost. He smiled at the thought. It seemed he had somewhat corrupted her morals, and he could no longer find it in himself to feel sorry for it. He rather liked Christine's newfound spirit. Yet he knew that she'd meant it when she'd told him she would not forgive him were he to kill again in cold blood…as he had killed both Buquet and Piangi.

With one final look into the dressing room, he retrieved his bag and turned back down the tunnel. He was certainly not foolish enough to exit into the streets near the Opera after the renewed interest of the Paris authorities. Despite the news Madame Giry had brought about the investigation, Erik knew he was more likely to be noticed now with the Phantom once again fresh in the minds of the police.

The streets were nearly empty at such an ungodly hour, devoid of all but the more unsavory citizens. Erik carefully slid the stone that covered the entrance he'd chosen and quickly slipped through into the alley. He stood motionless in the shadows, glancing around for any movement, and when he was satisfied that it was safe, he started toward the end of the alley. He needed only to make it three short blocks to the Marseille House without incident, and then there would be the matter of ensuring that the coachman Madame Giry had hired would remain silent.

One would think that the short distance to the boarding house could be easily traversed amongst the outcasts of moral society. Yet Fate seemed suddenly to be playing with Erik once again. He'd no sooner set one foot into the street before he caught sight of two police standing on the diagonal corner. They were directly in his intended path and did not appear in any hurry to move along. Erik cursed under his breath and debated his options. He could continue on and hope not to be recognized in the short time he'd need to be on the main street. Or he could turn in the opposite direction and take the longer route to the boarding house. He waited a few moments longer in the alley, hoping they'd be on their way, but with no luck.

Growling in frustration, he turned to the right, moving quickly away from the men. He snaked in and out of the alleys, carefully circling around the buildings while keeping a watchful eye for more police. Halfway to the Marseille House, he caught sight of another on patrol. They certainly seemed to be crawling about on this morning, but at least this one was moving along down the street instead of lollygagging on a corner. When the officer turned down a side street, Erik started his careful dance again. No sooner had he reached the shadows of the next alley he meant to slink through than he was forcibly stopped by the barrel of a pistol pointed directly at him.

Caught momentarily off guard, Erik found himself slammed against the alley wall, the gun pressed into his chest. His heart stalled and he lost his breath from the unexpected blow before his eyes focused on the man in front of him. Where he'd expected to see a uniform, he saw instead dirty and unkempt clothes, stained with dirt and what was likely blood, hanging on the body of man about Erik's height. The man's unshaven face was hard and his mouth turned into a sneer.

"You picked the wrong alley tonight, mes'eur. Turn out your pockets nice and slow or you're a dead man."

Erik stared at the man in stunned silence a moment before he began to laugh. He'd not been caught by the police…but a common robber. Could Fate possibly throw anymore bad luck into his path?

The robber sneered even more, tightening one grimy hand over Erik's throat and pushing the barrel of the pistol roughly into his sternum. "Keep laughing and I'll strip your valuables off your dead body!"

Erik sobered, glaring at the man before him. "Do you know who I am?"

The man hissed, "Don't give a damn who you are! Only care what you've got and what you can get me."

Erik's mouth twisted in an evil smile. "Then allow me to show you what I have." He held his gloved hands up, palms open and facing out in a non-threatening manner, showing the robber he'd nothing in them. Then he slowly did exactly as he'd been asked, reaching his right hand slowly inside his cloak towards his pocket while keeping his left out. The gun poked deeper into his flesh.

"Slowly. No tricks."

Erik stifled his grin, tucking his fingers into the pocket of his waistcoat to pull out the glittering diamond engagement ring that Christine had folded into his palm so many months ago. He'd not been able to leave the ring behind, though it held only painful memories for him now. Yet something had urged Erik to tuck it into his pocket before leaving his underground lair. The robber's eyes drifted down to the stone as it shined in the moonlight, just as Erik had known they would. The hand at his throat loosened only fractionally, but it was enough.

Seizing that brief moment of distraction, Erik jerked his left hand up against the gun at his chest, forcing the weapon up into the air as it fired over his left shoulder and into the wall behind him. At the same moment, Erik had wrapped his other hand around the robber's right arm and wrenched it from his throat, snapping the man's wrist quickly. The pain he'd inflicted on the bastard served to aid Erik as he pushed away from the wall and used his momentum to fling them both across the alley into the opposing concrete. The gun fired again into the air, and Erik new it would not be long before the police he'd seen would descend on the sound. He slammed the robber's gun hand against the wall until the weapon clattered to the pavement below. Then he backhanded the robber across the face, closing both hands around the scoundrel's throat and squeezing. This man he could kill…there was no reason not to.

Voices echoed through the streets, the rapid pounding of feet growing louder as they came closer. Erik growled, released his victim and twirled away to retrieve his bag, cane, and the diamond ring sparkling in the middle of the alley. He desperately scanned the darkness for a means of escape, ignoring the robber who was crawling toward the fallen pistol. Erik's eyes locked on a drainage pipe that ascended to the gutters on the far end of the alley, and he ran for it. His best chance was to climb. If he could make it to the roof, he'd have a chance of disappearing while the police were distracted with that foolish thug.

Erik looped the handle of his bag over his forearm and launched himself upwards, his gloved hands closed around the pipe mere seconds before the sound of a gunshot echoed through the gloom.

A/N: Yes, I am evil to leave it there. And a somewhat short chapter at that...but it just crept up on me out of nowhere and demanded to be written.