A/N: Hey everyone. In hopes of letting people know I intend on updating much sooner I have decided to post this one as well. It's extremely short but you can bet chapter 6 will be much longer. This chapter opens the door for the next one so hopefully ya'll won't think I lost interest in this story.
-
Chapter 5 – Blueprints
"Erik, you really must rest," a flustered Madame Giry told the fretting man. "Miranda, how am I supposed to rest?" he asked as he paced, or I should say limped, around the main room of his lair.
"I know you are worried, as am I and Meg, but you can't overwork yourself like this. You have barely eaten or rested in the past two days." She paused then continued, "Do you really think Raoul would harm her?" This stopped Erik. From what he knew of Raoul, he wouldn't harm her. "I know," he sighed, placing himself on the couch, "I just can't stand the thought of Christine with him."
Miranda nodded and moved over to him. She placed a calming hand on his unhurt shoulder. "Everything will be alright." She soothed. "To get her back we must think if a plan."
Erik was about to speak when a voice came form the bedroom. "I have an idea." It said. Both Miranda and Erik turned to see Meg standing in the door way.
"You do?" Erik asked hopeful. She nodded walking to them and sitting across from the couch. "I don't know how well it'll work but it might." She said.
Erik nodded; he was so desperate he would do anything. "Please…tell us." He encouraged her. She nodded and then proceeded to explain her plan.
-
Christine sat at her window, looking out at the Opera Populaire. Over the past two days she had eaten very little, close to nothing, and had barely rested. All she ever did was sit and stare. She had become extremely thin, her hair was never brushed or fixed, and she had horrible bags under her eyes from the lack of sleep.
On several occasions Raoul tried to pry her away from the window, even out the of her room but nothing worked. Once she did intend on going outside but Raoul wouldn't allow it, unless he was beside her. She didn't want him near her so she just trailed back to her room and back to the window.
Rarely did she ever talk. Her average words spoken in one day were around five or so. All she ever did was lose herself in her thoughts of Erik. Was he awake? Was he even alive? If so, how badly was he hurt? Did any one of those men who beat him feel guilty? Those questions and millions more, swam through her head throughout the day. Questions she didn't have the answer too. Questions she may never find the answer to; unless, of course, by some miracle the Angel of Love was looking out for them.
-
Sands-Agent – Hey. Thanks for replying in the short time it was up. I decided to get this up as well since I already had it typed.
