Upon reflection, he decided that he really should have followed his first instinct and strangled her.

It would have saved him a world of trouble.

But the thought of Christine had stayed his hand. Christine would pity this poor creature. She would be proud of him, of the compassion –albeit unwilling- that he showed the shivering huddle of rags.

The raucous rehearsals for Hannibal had gone late into the night, and abandoning them in disgust, he had retreated to the sanctuary of his lair. Schemes and stratagems rolled through his mind like a relentless wave, infusing every step, every movement with impatient purpose.

But his step had been halted by the smallest of sounds. It wasn't the scrabbling of a rat. No, that he knew well was quicker and more frantic. This was a distinctly human sound.

With a silent swish of his cloak, he had slipped through the passages, the soft leather of his boot soles making only the lightest disturbance in the dust. He followed the sound to the outer reaches of his kingdom – one of the passages he knew well…too well.

It was the very passage that opened into the portal where La Giry had brought him all those years ago, divorcing him from one life of agony and marrying him to another.

And, it would seem, that another wretch had found that same portal and used it for refuge. He remained motionless in the shadows, watching the figure crawl on its hands and knees to the far wall, then collapse against its cold support. He heard harsh gasps for breath that made his own lungs itch and burn.

He studied the figure for a moment, weighing its attributes and potential threats. It was small. Dirty. Ragged. The length of the matted hair indicated it was a girl, though any curves were lost in the shapeless fabric that covered the body. She moved, and he saw that there was a face marked by bruises, with a long scar down one cheek. His eye twitched involuntarily when he saw that.

The girl gasped again and clutched at her ribs, revealing grubby little hands.

It was a moment poised on a wire. To fall one way would be to end the suffering of such a miserable creature. To fall another would be to risk too much for the sake of a humanity that had forsaken him. But Christine had not forsaken him. And she would have pitied and comforted the girl.

Gritting his teeth in frustration and hating himself, he stepped forward, revealing his presence in a towering, ominous silhouette of darkness. He had the satisfaction of seeing the girl's head jerk up, and her eyes – a strange kind of ocean grey – widen in fear.

"What are you doing here?" he growled, enjoying the sound of his voice echoing and bouncing, distorted and engorged by the chamber.

The girl looked up at him and clasped her hands together in a gesture of pleading.

"Answer me!" he thundered, relishing the booming noise.

It was a good thing he was shrouded in darkness, for it hid the utter shock that spread over his face when the girl clasped her hands around her throat then turned them out to him in a beseeching manner.

She could not speak.

He thought very hard for a moment, then decided that it was definitely an advantage.

"Follow me," he said gruffly, then turned and disappeared down the passage, making sure he moved slowly enough that the girl, still clutching at her ribs and now limping, could see him up ahead.

A silent girl could tell no secrets.

A/N: Yes, I'm back again. And this is a fic that has been kicking around in my head for weeks. So, I must submit to it and submit it. Enjoy! Kate