Chapter Summary: Another warning needs to be sent to Raoul's family. And we get a further glimpse of Nico's madness.
WARNING: Here we go again, folks. This is another of those "icky" torture chapters and I think it is worse than the last one. If you really cannot stomach this kind of thing, I suggest you turn away now! Consider yourselves warned!
Raoul looked toward the ceiling, his eyes narrowing as they took in the pulley system that had kept him tethered to the cold room for the last two days. His brain knew it was futile but hope yet lived in every heartbeat so Raoul drew a deep breath, tightened arm muscles and yanked down as hard as he could; it only afforded additional pain to shoulders and wrists. A frustrated moan escaped as Raoul looked down at the manacles that bound his wrists to the overhead pulley and to each other. He shook his head as he breathed deeply through his nose, feeling the heavy iron rub into wrists already raw and painful from previous useless attempts at freedom. Anger and desperation warred within him, each vying for control of an army of mixed emotions that raged throughout Raoul's heart, mind and soul, manifesting themselves in the pacing that Raoul resumed.
"At least they let me have this much," Raoul muttered to himself as he walked back and forth in the small arc that the length of chain provided him. He kept his voice low in the event there was anyone listening beyond the closed door of his prison. He had no wish to further provoke the men just beyond that door; Raoul had learned his lessons well.
He had tried calling for help the first night when his senses had returned. He had awakened to the pounding ache in a head whose scalp itched and burned from multiple knife cuts. He had also remembered the flick of the knife that had sliced across his chest and Raoul had looked down to see the front of his shirt stained with his own blood. It was then that he remembered the package that was being sent to his wife and brother. Raoul had closed in his eyes in pain that was more mental than physical. He had struggled through that pain to find some faint flicker of reason. He had found that small flicker; it had urged Raoul to listen to the darkened world about him. There had been no sound from the other room and Raoul had tried calling out for help; it would be the only time he would make that mistake. Raoul's attempt to reach out for help had brought forth from the other room a demon disguised as human being carrying a lantern and more chains. The demon had left his knife behind, choosing instead to kick out at ribs, knocking the wind from Raoul in a huge cry of pain and surprise. Raoul had stopped calling for help after that.
Now he just paced back and forth when the agitation and worry became too much. When his legs would tire, Raoul would sit on the cold, hard floor, his head in his hands, despair washing him away like a biblical flood. Once before he had been ready to die in the darkness and once more he was ready for there was an empty voice that reached through the despair and the darkness seeming to say he would never again see anything beyond these four walls. It was not the end that caused Raoul to despair but the journey he would need to take. He had seen the madness in Nico's eyes when that knife had carved into his head and chest and Raoul knew that there would be more pain. He was only human and Raoul did not wish to spend whatever time he had left in pain, fulfilling Nico's strange urges. Raoul knew he wished in vain but it was far better to think upon his own fate - no matter the fears and the worries - then to think upon the ones he loved for such thoughts frightened Raoul, making him physically ill.
Raoul found he could not even begin to imagine the pain and the fear and the torment his family must have been experiencing. He wondered about Charlotte and Desiree, his sisters, one in Austria, one in Italy and prayed that Philippe had not sent them word; they had their own families to fret over. He thought of Henri, hoping against hope that his cousin would be of some help and comfort to Philippe and Christine. Raoul nearly laughed at the thought for Henri could barely help himself and would not be able to find his way from the center of his self-centered world to aid anyone else. Raoul continued to think about other loved ones, other friends, other acquaintances - anyone and anything other than the two people he loved most in the world, the two people whose images caused him more pain that Nico could ever hope to inflict.
Philippe and Christine - the two people in the world who were Raoul's world. The two people upon whom the sun rose and set for Raoul. The two people he loved more than his own life. Philippe who had helped to form his soul and Christine who had formed his heart. Raoul could feel frustrated, worried tears gather at the corners of his eyes and fingers of bound hands stretched, brushing them away; he could not and would not let the men who held him see any weakness. Yet thoughts of Philippe and Christine would not be denied, always finding their way to the forefront of his mind, pushing their way past all other thoughts, claiming a supremacy that took a heavy toll upon Raoul's already strained emotions.
Raoul hoped that Philippe would remember their pledge to each other and not pay a centime for a return that he was certain would not happen. He had always looked up to, admired and trusted the brother who had been old enough to be his father. A kind word had rarely been received from the man who had actually sired him but Philippe had always been there with words of encouragement. Philippe had been the one who had taken time from his busy life to watch over Raoul's schoolwork, to tell the small boy stories, to listen to the confusion of the adolescent, to encourage the young man finally coming in to his own. Philippe had been the idealized father, the adored older brother, Raoul's guide and inspiration. He had been the one who had laughingly given way to Raoul's impassioned desire for a young girl with dark hair.
"Christine," Raoul whispered into the hands that covered his face. Raoul took the hands from his face, staring into open palms, seeing only the emptiness. A blank emptiness that he knew stretched from his heart to the heart that caused his own to beat. Another voice reached through his despair, a quieter voice, a softer voice and Raoul clasped empty hands together and bowed his head over them.
"Dear God, I do not even know where to start," Raoul began and paused for a moment, trying to still his racing emotions. "I do not even know if you remember that I am here." He sighed before continuing. "But I know you remember Christine. I love her. I will always love her, please let her remember that. Do not let her remember my harsh words. I am sorry for them and I pray I could take them back but I cannot. Please grant her Your strength and peace. I cannot endure the thought of her in any further pain for I have caused her enough by my actions." Raoul paused again, feeling his breath catch in his throat. "And if I do not make it from this place alive, please let Christine find her way back to another who loves her." The mere thought of the woman he loved in the arms of that man created a void in Raoul that nothing would ever be able to fill and he was still and silent as his mind tried to comprehend the thought. "He will love her," he finally admitted quietly, "and she needs to be loved." Raoul swallowed down the image of Christine melting into the arms of the Phantom. "Please let her be loved."
The thought of his wife, smiling and exuberant during the day, still and humming in his arms at night, nearly drove Raoul over the edge. All he wanted to do was take her in his arms, whisper words of apology against her dark curls, kiss the softness of her lips and love her for the rest of their lives. He had told Christine once that she was safe with him but she did realize that she was his safe harbor. That her arms, her friendship, her love was his refuge from the cares of the world. Now Raoul prayed that Christine knew that, that she would always know that and hold to it even as he held to it, clung to it, in this turbulence into which he had been tossed.
"Please, God," Raoul whispered again.
"Praying," a voice said from behind him, "how touching."
Raoul lifted his head but refused to turn it or get to his feet.
"Nothing to say?" the voice asked.
Raoul refused to answer.
"Still willful, I see," the voice continued. "I would have thought that such arrogance would have been taken right out of the aristocracy after so many lost their heads during the Revolution."
Raoul clenched his teeth together. He could feel a body closing in behind him.
"Or, perhaps, it takes a Phantom to strike fear into your heart, Monsieur," the voice said with an unpleasant chuckle.
"Damn you," Raoul replied softly.
The body behind him came around and Raoul was looking into the eyes of Louis. "There are things that can rile your temper," Louis smirked at him.
"Looks like your information was right, after all," another voice from the darkness said.
"Shut up, Edouard," Louis snapped.
"Who is telling you these things?" Raoul narrowed his eyes. "Who is paying you to do this?"
Louis smirked at his captive. "Would you not like to know?" There was no answer to his question and Louis just stared down at the man glaring at him. "I am not going to tell you so I suggest you stop asking." He nudged the tip of his boot at Raoul's foot. "Get to your feet."
"Why?" Raoul asked, knowing he would regret the question but unable to stop the word from coming out.
"Francois," Louis said.
Raoul could hear the sound of the chains before they pulled on the manacles about his wrists. He grimaced at the pain such actions caused but made no sound.
"Because," Louis continued, "if you do not get to your feet, I shall have Francois drag you to them. It is as simple as that."
Raoul kept his eyes locked with those of his captor as he slowly got to his feet. "I am on my feet," Raoul said in an even tone of voice, "as you commanded."
"Such defiance," Louis tsk'd at him. "We shall just have to do something about that." He turned his attention to the dark room behind Raoul. "Edouard, Francois," he ordered. Louis waited until the two men were on either side of Raoul. "You know what to do."
The two men fell to their knees and Raoul could feel each of them grab onto his ankles, pulling his feet slightly apart, preventing any movement from the spot where he stood. Raoul watched as Louis pulled the gun from his waistband.
"Do not think of trying anything foolish," Louis warned. "One thought, one move," he moved next to Raoul and placed the barrel of the gun over Raoul's heart, "one little twitch and you will be watching your family from heaven," Louis warned, staring into bright blue eyes that bore deep into his soul. "I am not lying," he told Raoul, punctuating his words by pressing the gun barrel into Raoul's chest.
Raoul winced as hard metal edges dug into already bruised flesh. The threat posed by the gun was enough to still any foolish thoughts that might have been struggling through the apprehension in Raoul's mind. He breathed heavily through his nose, gauging the immediate threat against the unknown threat that hovered in the air, eternal hope winning out. "Where am I to go and what am I to do?"
"Wise man," Louis said with a nod of his head before moving behind Raoul.
Raoul stood still, his apprehension growing as the chains began to move through the pulley, stretching his arms taut above his head. He tried to keep his breathing even and his outward demeanor calm as Louis once again came back into view, the gun in his hand once again leveling itself at the center of Raoul's chest.
"We are going to send your brother a letter telling him how much must be paid for your return," Louis began. "We just need to give him a reminder of what is at stake." His voice lowered. "Nico."
Raoul felt a something cold begin to creep along his spin as Nico emerged from the shadows. "You do not need to do this," Raoul tried softly, his eyes going to that damn knife that was so lovingly held between Nico's fingers.
"Not need to, no," Nico said as he thought about Raoul's words, his head nodding. "Want to, yes." He approached Raoul, never meeting his eyes. Nico moved slowly around Raoul. "You must have such a fine family." Never touching him. "Brothers and sisters, perhaps." Never looking at him. "Many relatives in many places." He moved around Raoul in a circle.
Raoul could feel his heart beat faster and faster with every movement, every word, never knowing what Nico was thinking beneath the soft words he uttered. "Philippe will follow your instructions." Raoul hoped he sounded sincere. "Just tell him what you want!" Raoul watched in worry and apprehension as Nico finally stopped in front of him, raising his eyes to meet Raoul's own.
There was a quiet, tense moment as Nico studied the man in front of him, his head moving from side to side, his lips alternately smiling and frowning. Nico kept his hands still; fingers wrapped the blade and handle of his knife. "A beautiful wife, who must be missing you." He leaned forward slightly, his eyes studying the vein that visibly throbbed in Raoul's temple. "Oh so much," Nico whispered so that only Raoul could hear, a satisfied smile crossing his lips as he saw the muscles of Raoul's jaw tighten. Nico drew back and resumed his movements. He continued to walk round and round Raoul, the carefully measured movements designed to heighten the anxiety, increase fear.
"Perhaps," Nico said evenly as he stopped, turning from Raoul to look at Louis, "there is no need for further warnings." Before Raoul could draw another breath, before hope had a chance to blossom, Nico whirled around, his knife lashing out across Raoul's abdomen, slicing through his shirt and into his skin. "Or perhaps there is a need to do this!" he hissed like a snake as Raoul cried out in pain and surprise. "Or this." the knife flashed upwards and then down again, tearing through Raoul's left shirt sleeve, leaving a bloody trail in its wake. "Or this," The knife flashed again leaving an identical blood trail along Raoul's right shirt sleeve.
After his initial outcry, Raoul had clenched his teeth together, trying not to bite through his tongue as he felt the fiery pain across his abdomen spread to first one arm and then the other. Raoul could not help the involuntary moans that escaped through closed lips so he had lowered his eyes denying Nico the pleasure of seeing the pain that was written there. Raoul could not see Louis leave through closed eyes nor could he see him when Louis returned to stand in the doorway, his hands holding a glowing iron. He did feel the bloody point of the knife poke at the pulse point that pounded in his neck.
"Do you think that is enough warning?" Nico wondered as he poked the knife at Raoul's jugular vein.
There was no response.
"I asked you a question!" Nico breathed into Raoul's ear, a skilled hand pushing the knife gently against the artery in Raoul's neck.
Raoul knew what the crazed man in front of him wanted to hear. "You will decide," he managed to find the words through the pain that wrapped him in a tight fist.
"That is right." The knife slid a bit as Nico withdrew it, leaving a tiny trail of red tears in its wake. "I will decide," Nico finished as he drew back.
Raoul still had his eyes closed and could not see Nico nod over his shoulder to Louis who slowly began approaching them. Raoul did feel Edouard and Francois tighten their grip on his ankles and he drew in a deep breath, bracing himself, trying to find courage beyond himself. His thoughts fled to the sheltering memories of Christine. Raoul found himself drawing the strength he needed from the memory of her courage in another darkened place. Whatever these men were about to do, Raoul would face it with his eyes open. "Do what you will," he began as he opened his eyes and stared at Nico, "and be done with it," Raoul finished angrily, his breath ragged and uneven.
"As you wish," Nico said with a smile as he stepped back.
It took but the space of a single heartbeat for Raoul to smell the heat behind him, giving him no time to truly prepare. A moment later he was crying out as the small, flat, branding iron burned through his shirt and into the skin of his shoulder. A moment after that, Raoul's head lolled against his chest, his body hanging limply from the chains that bound his wrists.
"Let him go," Louis ordered as he stepped back, moving toward the chains that ran through the pulley, watching as Edouard and Francois released Raoul's legs. Louis loosed the chains and Raoul's body slumped to the floor, unaware, unmoving. Something dark flew through the air. "Take them off," Louis said as Francois caught the key, bending over to remove the manacles from Raoul's wrists. Louis tossed something else through the air. "You know what to do with this," he said to Edouard who took off the burned, torn and bloody shirt that Raoul wore, replacing it with the tunic that had been tossed to him.
"He is not going to be moving for awhile," Edouard said as he handed the shirt to Louis.
Louis approached and looked down at the still figure on the floor. "Does not matter," he said as he held out his hand for the shirt. "Put that on him and chain him back to the pole. We cannot afford to make any mistakes at this point." He waited as Edouard slipped the tunic over Raoul's head before motioning to Nico. "Come with me," he said, trusting Nico to follow him. Louis heard the dragging of a body and the rattling of chains as Nico closed the door behind himself. He sat down at the rickety table usually reserved for card playing and wine drinking, folding Raoul's shirt, placing an envelope atop it before wrapping it in plain paper. "You did not go too far, did you?" Louis asked, watching as Nico sat, his shadow crossing the package in ominous foreboding.
"I am skilled." There was a hint of pride in Nico's voice. "I never go too far unless I am given permission." He chuckled; it was a disturbing sound even to a known associate. "But I am not the one who branded him as if he were a prize hog."
"I am just following my orders," Louis replied as he pushed the completed package across the table toward Nico. He finally raised his eyes to look at the man across from him. "Can you deliver that to the Chagny estate without being seen?"
Nico reached the packet, picking it up and holding it close to his heart almost as if it were a well-loved child. "I have done so till now."
Louis felt a small chill run up his spine as Nico rocked the package in his arms. "I was serious when I told Francois and Edouard that we could afford no mistakes. Just deliver the package to the estate and leave. You must not be seen or caught."
Nico stopped his rocking movements and stood still. "I will never be seen or caught." His eyes were unblinking. "They would not dare."
Louis raised an eyebrow at Nico. "As you say," he replied, knowing enough not to aggravate Nico when he was riding the high caused by the shedding of blood.
"As I say," Nico's voice echoed, bouncing off the cold stone walls. He finally blinked, bringing Louis into focus. "I shall go now," he said. "The fine family will find our message with their breakfast."
Nico slipped from the room and into the dark night outside the cottage.