A/N: It's short, sorry Modesty, it is, I'm trying but I'm used to my short chapters now. I'll try to update sooner.

Modesty: Thank you for the reviews and your loyal reading.

Ahomelesspirate: Thanks for the reviews, much appreciated as always. And yes, he does love her too much for his own sanity. Phantom of the Opera came second in a vote of the worlds finest musicals (Les Mis beat it)

Erikmylove: New reviewer, welcome. Thank you very much… I will update as often and as quickly as I can.

Onwards!

Chapter 28- Hunted.

The sun was settling to its bed for the night and so was Christine. She had shuffled herself low under the blanket, her face nearly entirely covered by it. She breathed in the fresh smell it emitted, let it linger on her senses and then closed her eyes letting out a long, languid sigh. She had closed the drapes leaving a small gap in the middle so that she could see as the light disappeared and left the moon rising, the dark taking the suns place.

The moon was bright, the night was cold, the stars twinkled on the black, silk sky. She breathed slowly and deliberately, each sip of air was planned and executed. She could not even breath without thinking now. Her chest filled with glorious air, her body was clearing its evil fever and she was feeling much better for it. What she did not feel better about was staying here with Erik.

He had been so cold again, she had seen not an ounce of emotion in him. Well, until he had turned his back on her and stared out of the window. She was positive he had done that to conceal feelings he did not want her to see. What those feelings were, however, she didn't know.

The room darkened more, no longer the amber glow of the setting sun it was almost a brown. Shadows chased the light away and even the glow from the living area was beginning to die out as she realised that Erik must have fallen to sleep.

Without much though she threw herself out of bed, steadied herself against the onslaught of the dizziness and then tiptoed gingerly towards the open door. She poked her head around, glanced either way and when she was finally satisfied that he was not around she stepped into the small hallway. Again she placed her back to the wall and listened into the other room for a couple of minutes. She could faintly hear the steadiness of Erik's breathing, she was convinced that he was sleeping.

Peering around she slid into the room, he was lying on the long seat next to the fire, which was turning to a small glow and ash. He was a silent sleeper, totally silent except for a light breathing. He was soothing when he slept. She remembered that in the past, when she spent time with him and he actually managed to sleep, a lot of the time he was having nightmares, he would mumble and his hands would tense, his face contort, his eyes twitched under their lids. Tonight, as she looked at him, she realised he was sleeping soundly.

She glanced at him once and then turned to look at the stairs behind her. With one final check that Erik was sleeping she turned and tiptoed to the bottom of the stairs.

'I can't find her,' Philippe de Chagny said to his brother as he fiddled with a place mat.

'What have I done?' Raoul said, glancing up and looking through tired eyes. 'Is there anything we haven't tried?'

'I'm not sure.' Philippe said, staring at the figure of his brother, a shadow of the man he was expected to be.

'I've asked all of the people she knows… she's just … vanished.' Raoul's voice caught in his throat.

'Calm down,' said the Comte de Chagny, as he walked over to grab Raoul's shoulders firmly. He shook him lightly, making him look up. 'You let her walk out, Raoul, you should have stopped her.'

'What?' Raoul said, tears once again threatening to fall. 'How? How would I have stopped her?'

'Damn it, man!' Philippe said, shaking his head. 'She's your wife! MAKE her stay!'

'I…'

'Raoul, you were always too soft. Sometimes you need to be… well, you need to be more forceful. Who runs this house?'

'Me,' Raoul answered, his throat dry.

'Then act like it,' Philippe said firmly.

Raoul stared at him, ran his hand over his eyes, brushing away the remaining tears. He stood up and glanced at his brother before ushering him through the door. Philippe's long light hair shone under the light of the candles in the late night. He saw him to the front door.

'Find her, Philippe, I want her back,' he said slowly, his voice taking on a tone of authority. Philippe nodded at him.

'I have one option left.' He said, patting Raoul's shoulder gently. 'I have a feeling this might just work.'