Fate's Martyr

A/N: EXTREME VIOLENCE IN THIS CHAPTER…

--Viscount's Château, 3 miles outside of Paris (Hidden from public knowledge)

Five weeks…five miserable, painful and desperate weeks. Jean could no longer feel the tips of his fingers. It wasn't just the chill brought on by the underground, stone cellar, but two days ago the Viscount had burned his fingers. The bastard had said something along the lines of,

"Don't want the little artist to grow up and have a career now do we?"

Bastard. That's all Jean could think of to describe him. Every day was another day in which the ass would ask him 'where's your father hiding at hmm?' then Jean would spit in his face and earn himself a larger beating. Not that he wouldn't be beaten anyway; he would just be beaten more severely. He'd get asked again after his beating and he'd spit again, only this time the spit was usually blood. It didn't really matter to him. He was a willing sacrifice the way he saw it. Raoul could punish him however he wanted, eventually Jean figured he'd die and then his father and (hopefully) his brother would be free from the bastards' deadly grasp. The harsh wood doors leading to his confinement opened and his weary head rose to reveal his soldering amber eyes.

"Good evening Monsieur Destler. I pray you slept well?"

Jean scoffed at the bastards' remark and merely turned his head.

"Well, why don't we just get right to it hmm? Where is your father hiding at Jean?"

"I dunno."

"You just want to die don't you boy?"

Jean continued to smirk even as the end of Raoul's pistol smacked into his face. Jean counted each time the metal made contact. Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-seven. Eventually, he could count no longer and the world around him spun violently. Raoul stopped and stepped back in greedy happiness as Jean leaned forward and spat blood. Dissatisfied as usual, Raoul signaled for one of his men to come from his hiding spot in the shadows.

"Do as you wish, but keep him alive…at least for now."

The burly man smiled evilly and cracked his knuckles and stepped up. Grasping Jean's hair, he slowly began beating his stomach and ribs. Watching in masochistic delight as the boy vomited more blood and began to struggle for air. The man grew bored and decided that there were better ways of torture. Drawing a knife from his crusted boot, the burly suck-up stuck the blade into the boy's thin ankle and watched as the fiery gold eyes widened in shock and the pained mouth opened to release a scream of absolute pain. The man twisted the blade and smirked in joy as the boy began crying, his tears mixing with the sweat, blood and dirt upon his face. Withdrawing his blade, the man stood up and enjoyed the boy's desperate attempt at ceasing the pain racking through his veins. The burly man smirked at Raoul who reappeared as the boy cried in pain. The twisted look in the Viscount's eyes told the suck-up that his job was done. Kneeling to Jean's level, Raoul quietly began to speak.

"I can end this for you boy…tell me where your dad is and I'll end all this misery…just…like…that…"

"Go suck a dick DeChagney…"

Swiftly, Raoul drew his gun and shot Jean in his left knee, pieces of bone and flesh splintered from his thin, pale form and Jean fainted from the loss of blood and excruciating pain.

--Paris, Apartment #131

Erik was pacing like a caged tiger. His fierce gold eyes were narrowed with worry and rage. Five weeks ago Antoinette had returned from the manager's office aglow with distress and anger.

"Erik! Please tell me Jean is here!"

"What are you talking about Giry? Jean is supposed to be guarding the DeChagney boy!"

"Oh god, the Viscount escaped and I can't find Jean anywhere!"

Directly after that, Antoinette, Nadir, Theo and himself all went on a mad search for Erik's young son. There was no trace of him, and Andre and Firman had 'mysteriously' disappeared. Only three days following Jean's kidnapping, a note from the managers had arrived from Spain explaining they were on extended vacation. Had Erik not been so worried about Jean, he would have gone and personally murdered the damn fools with his bare hands. Yet, now all he could do was stand here and pace as Nadir attempted to find out were Raoul was hiding and Antoinette and Theo sifted for information from the gossip swilling through the opera underground. Erik jumped when a small form tugged at his pant leg demanding his attention.

"Monsieur Ewik, where at my cousin?"

"I don't know Pierre, why don't you go bother your mother for a change?"

The four-year-old Giry sighed in disappointment before turning and heading into the kitchen where Meg was busy making dinner for the family. Finally deciding to sit, Erik took a seat nearest to a window and wept as the sun began to set. Wearily, his exhausted mind traversed into well tread territory.

'Where are you my son?'

--Viscount's Château, 3 miles outside Paris (Hidden from public knowledge)

Renée wandered sadly towards her husbands' captors cell. Little Jean Paul lay crumbled in a corner, Raoul had released him from the chains on the wall seeing as how he couldn't walk anymore. Infection had quickly ravashied his form, and only two days after falling ill, he fell into a dangerous fever. Incapable of coming out of his delirum, Renée was expected to try and make him well enough to talk, but she was quickly coming to the conclusion that he wouldn't be alive much longer. Renée now sat beside his fetal position form and lifted his body enough so that she could pour a thin broth down his throat. As usual, he gagged and spat up more blood. Thin tears trailed down Renée's cheeks and as she finished feeding Jean, she stood and decided that today was the day she'd confront the next highest power at the Opera Populaire: Madame Antoinette Giry.

--Opera Populaire

Antoinette was impatiently tapping her foot as she watched her pathetic troupe of Ballet Rats. Since Meg was now a fulltime wife and mother, Antoinette had no ballerinas to look forward to when she came to work, and sighed in a depressed manner as two of the girls collided…again. About to confront the confrontation started from said collision, Antoinette was stopped by the sight of the Viscountess DeChagney. No one had seen the DeChagney family since Raoul had broken free of his confinement five and a half weeks ago. Antoinette couldn't stop herself as she raced forward and grabbed the Viscountess's shoulders and shook her while shouting wildly.

"Where is he? Where is the VISCOUNT!"

"Madame…I don't know! Please, come with me…I must tell you something in private!"

Sensing the woman's sincerity, Antoinette quickly grasped her hand and led her towards the diva's quarters.

"Now, tell me what is so important!"

"My husband, Raoul, he…he's been torturing this little boy from the-."

"Little boy? Does this boy have curly hair and gold eyes!"

"Yes! Oh Madame! It's awful, he's so ill and his injuries! I'm afraid he won't last much longer and I don't even know why Raoul is doing this!"

"Tell me where he's being held and I shall explain everything after Jean is safe."

Renée quickly passed on the details of Jean's imprisonment before turning to leave. Before exiting though she turned back and spoke.

"You must rescue him Madame. Do as you will to my husband later, but rescue the boy first…I'm afraid he's dying even as we speak…"

--Viscount's Château…

It was so cold…spots danced ahead of him, and pain was no longer a part of him. Roughly, he could feel the harsh gritty taste of death as it squeezed his aching lungs. He wanted this silence that rested so peacefully ahead of him. Yet, each time he felt the creeping swill of nothingness, Jean stopped and held on.

'For father and father alone…'

End Chapter 20

A/N: Yeah! Yet another chapter! Review please and tell me what you think!;)