A/N: Ha! All of you who have read thus far are probably shocked and surprised by this sudden turn of events, eh? But of course, poor Erik cannot quite believe yet that Christine is truly his! Stay tuned, folks, because it's going to get verrrryyyy intense...

Chapter 9: An Unwanted Rescue Ensues

Christine

So this was why the feeling of impending doom had been hanging over me! Such terrible, terrible rage! Now I began to wonder how I could ever have returned to him, knowing that he was capable of such violent fury. My misgivings had indeed been justified. This man I loved so greatly was, nevertheless, a murderous monster. What would he have done, had I remained in the room with him? Would he have gone so far as to kill me, the woman he wishes to make his wife?

I would never be able to forget his face, contorted by the powerful anger coursing through his body at the moment before I hurriedly left the room. Perhaps I had truly been fleeing for my very life...

I had at last come to my senses. I could not possibly marry this man. Yet I loved him so! That simply added to the hurt and bewilderment that now engulfed me. The fact that he had doubted me so easily, so irrationally, had stabbed me to the heart. I was unable to comprehend how I could still feel love for him, while, at the same time, his sudden betrayal of that love had surely and completely killed the blissful union we had enjoyed since escaping from the Opera House together.

I fled from him, along the corridors of the inn, my heart pumping madly. Once or twice, I dared to glance behind, fearful lest he had decided to follow me. But no, he was not pursuing me. I continued to run, picking up the folds of the voluminious Persian robe I was wearing, to prevent it from tripping me up. I ran all the way down the stairs, from our fourth floor room, and so was quite winded when I had reached the first floor. I had to stop momentarily. I held myself up with one hand against the wall, as I gasped for breath. My hood had fallen back during my hasty flight, and my disheveled hair tumbled wildly about my shoulders. A sharp pain lanced my side, and I could not help groaning softly.

"Are you all right, Mademoiselle?" I heard a solicitous voice at my elbow. Looking up, I noticed it was the inn's concierge.

Nodding my head wearily, I mumbled that I was. He remained next to me, though, and insisted on escorting me to a chair by one of the windows in the sitting room on the first floor. I allowed him to do so, assuring him all the time that I was fine, but had simply had a sudden fright. He looked at me in a rather strange manner, and I suddenly realized that he must not remember me, since I had arrived at the inn dressed as a man. He did leave me alone, in spite of his suspicions, for which I was greatly relieved.

I sat on the edge of the chair, and started wringing my hands. What would I do now? Where would I go? Perhaps I should simply return to Paris. I certainly could not stay here! Yet I had no money...then I remembered that I did have some money with me, left from my purchases of the day. I had meant to give it to Erik. Yes, I would return to the city. There must be a coach going there, sometime that day. Searching the pockets of the robe, I was able to ascertain that I had the necessary amount. I would purchase a seat on the very next coach, and go straight to Mother Giry. She would help me decide what to do next.

With firm resolve, I stood, taking a deep breath. Then I walked over to the concierge's desk, and inquired about the next coach leaving for Paris. To my dismay, I was told that there would not be another coach heading in that direction until the following morning!

I turned from the concierge so he would not see the tears spilling from my eyes. I ran out the front door of the inn, and blindly up the street, sobbing as I went. Dear God, what was I to do? Blessed Virgin in heaven, have you abandoned me because I have given myself to this man? Help me!

A male voice began calling out behind me. "Mademoiselle! Mademoiselle!" I did not stop, for I knew that voice. Neither did I look back. Then, as I continued to run, I heard steps running towards me. He would soon catch up with me, as I was already tired from my flight down the stairs of the inn.

Now I felt my arm caught in a strong grip, and heard the voice again, laced with concern. "Mademoiselle! What is the matter? What are you running from in such great distress?"

My God! How could I face this man? Why was he so interested in me?

I stopped, and stood stock still, my head down. I was panting heavily. He did not immediately release my arm, and this I did not like at all.

"Kindly...unhand me, sir." I said, quietly, not looking at him. He did so, albeit rather reluctantly, I perceived. I murmured my thanks, and attempted to continue on my way, at a slower pace. He then grasped my arm again, and turned me to face him, a bit too forcefully for my liking.

Gerard Dupres, who had so persistently insisted on presenting himself to me but a few hours before, now stood before me.

"Sir, I have asked you to unhand me!" I exclaimed, as I shook my arm free, and met his eyes. I glared furiously at him. He stood his ground just the same, his eyes full of concern, as well as a grudging admiration.

"Mademoiselle," he then persisted, in his most polite tone, "pray forgive me for being so forward towards your person. I could not help but notice that you had left the inn rather hastily, and in great distress as well..."

"Why, you've been following me!" I was indignant! Why could he not comprehend that I had absolutely no interest in pursuing his acquaintance?

He looked suspiciously guilty. "I must admit, Mademoiselle, that I have...and I could hardly wait for you to come forth from the inn!" He now looked a bit sheepish. "I must beg your forgiveness once again. I have wanted nothing more than to see your delightful beauty since the moment I was fortunate enough to set eyes upon you!"

I sighed in exasperation, turning from him. "I see that I did not make myself clear enough at our first inopportune encounter, Monsieur! I thank you for your compliments, but I am betrothed to another. Kindly leave me alone, if you please!" Stepping away from him, I walked on, squaring my shoulders.

He was undeterred, and stayed at my side, speaking as he walked. "Why were you fleeing in such terror, Mademoiselle? For it was indeed terror that I saw on your face! In fact, you are still shaking like a leaf! Ah, was it perhaps him you were fleeing from?"

He saw that this comment had shaken me, and so he continued, his voice now taking on a serious tone. "Has he...struck you, Mademoiselle? If so, I shall tear him limb from limb!"

The ridiculous image rose, unbidden, in my mind. This fool had no idea whom he wanted to tangle with! I had to cover my mouth at once, for I had begun to smile at the very idea of Dupres challenging my dark Angel...

I turned and faced him again. "No, Monsieur, he has not struck me. I must thank you for your interest in my welfare, but, really..."

"Do you have someone to go to, Miss...?" Here he waited for me to supply my name, which I had adamantly refused to give him the first time he had sought my attention.

My heart leaped in dismay. It was quite clear that he meant to help me to escape from Erik, should he find out that I had no relatives or friends in town. Perhaps he was heaven-sent...I looked down, thinking furiously. Should I trust this man? How could I leave Erik in such a manner? Yet, he himself had thrust me out. Furthermore, I knew not when one of these insane, jealous rages would overtake him again. Perhaps this man could get me to safety...

"I have some money, Monsieur. If you could find it in your heart to help me to get back to Paris..."

"Mademoiselle, you need not offer me any money," he smilingly replied, as he swept off his hat, bowing to me. "I shall be most happy to escort you there myself. Do you have relatives there?"

"Yes..." I replied vaguely, suddenly feeling very uneasy. Why should this perfect stranger be so willing to accompany me back to the city? No, I could not accept such a thing...

"Monsieur, if you could arrange speedy transportation thither, I assure you that I would be fine by myself. And I insist on paying you for your services. I am, after all, almost a married woman."

"Tut, tut!" he replied, smiling broadly, which gave his handsome face a very boyish look. "You need not fear that I would overstep the boundaries of gentlemanly behavior, my dear Miss..." He again looked meaningfully at me.

"Millefleur," I blurted, not knowing how I had invented such an absurd name. "Charlotte Millefleur."

He bowed very politely, taking my hand. "May I? I am most pleased to make your lovely acquaintance."

I hastily removed my hand from his before he was able to bring it to his lips to kiss it. He smiled at this, but did not comment upon it.

"Very well, Miss Millefleur. Let us go. My driver is not far off, as I have instructed him to wait for me."

"Your driver?" I stared at him in disbelief. "You have your own coach, Monsieur?"

"Indeed, Mademoiselle. I am the Comte Gerard Emile Dupres de Tocqueville. When traveling, I much prefer to shorten it to the simpler Gerard Dupres. You see, I am one of those aristocratic rebels you may have heard about. I am not fond of flaunting my position, preferring instead to be seen as a common man, which, in fact, we all are."

I stared at him, open-mouthed. The first thought that came to me was that he must know Raoul! Had this man been sent by him? But no, if such were the case, he would not have revealed himself as a member of the aristocracy so readily...

"Shall we, Mademoiselle?" he now inquired, offering me his arm. I shook my head, looking away from him. He merely shrugged, saying, "As you wish, Miss Millefleur. Come, I shall take you to my coach."

We walked in the direction of the waiting coach, he, quite well pleased with himself, and I, with a very heavy heart.