You are all amazing…I would like to make a shoutout to all my new and lovely rose-earning reviewers, Chevesic, Qtkittee and anom

And today, we get a looksie at a very lovely character I have been dying to write…Another very big shoutout and thank you to TheTenthMuseSappho for your contribution and reviews so far ;)

Disclaimers:

The poem used in this is written by yours truly ^^

Any lines or characters that belong to Gaston Leroux or Andrew Llyod Webber or Susan Kay I do not claim to own. Merely used for your and my own amusement. *CUE GENERIC EVIL LAUGH ! *

Song used 'Eternal Flame' belongs to The Bangles and a cover version by Griff (that I personally love and recommend). YAY for using modern songs…

And now, the weather…

Her Sanity – Chapter 5

Christine's window was finally open. The air was sweet as she felt herself ache in pain. Her voice wasn't his, her voice was here, inside her. Inside where there was longing and he would not stop her from crying out.

"Close your eyes, give me your hand, darlin',
Do you feel my heart beating,
Do you understand,
Do you feel the same,
Am I only dreaming,
Is this burning an eternal flame,"

Raoul was there with her, arm draped around her, his eyes sparkling like two orbs of sunshine. His laugh was there in her ears, his smile was in her smile, her heart wanted his normalcy. Someone who didn't know her, someone who just let her be.

"I believe it's meant to be, darlin',
I watch you when you are sleeping,
You belong with me,
Do you feel the same,
Am I only dreaming,
Or is this burning an eternal flame,"

Was it meant to be? For them to never see each other again, to live their separate lives? Had Erik truly told them a lie to make Raoul's heart content? Had he given up? Did she belong with Erik? He knew her soul, ignited that terrible fire within her, that anger and helpless sorrow, that deep empathy within her, that compassion that was so easy to reach when with him. When she had gazed at Raoul sleeping, he never looked different than he did in the day. It was as if he belonged to it. Yet at night, she was the one hugging herself as the nightmares came, when that voice of Erik's had never reached her. How inwardly, she hated this terrible dependency on that soothing geniality that sparkled in his warm eyes, how his voice settled her soul, smoothed her hair like ruffled feathers. How Raoul's kiss merely felt warm, but nothing more. Was that truly love? Sanctuary. Blissful peace and protection? Wasn't there desire? A chemistry that changed hormones and made them wish to sate each other's souls with their eternal flame?

"Say my name,
Sun shines through the rain,
A whole life so lonely,
And then come and ease the pain,
I don't want to lose this feeling, oh,"

Raoul. Erik. Christine. Three different people. A tug of war between sanity and insanity. To catch that feeling of being among others – Erik had known she never belonged, Raoul had assumed she did with him. But where did she really? Could she ever be content with someone else deciding that for her? Couldn't she choose for herself?

It was too late; Erik had chosen for her. Had chosen for her the moment he had heard her voice, ensnared her in his grasp and refused to let her go from his palm. From the piece of rope he had tied around her neck like a red noose. What could ease this pain, for singing only made it hurt, made her cry. Her voice wobbled with tears.

"Close your eyes, give me your hand,
Do you feel my heart beating,
Do you understand,
Do you feel the same,
Am I only dreaming,
Or is this burning an eternal flame,"

She had closed her eyes once and woke up in a strange, new and terrible world. Her hand had been given from her own violation, his voice had made her want to do so, to understand him. Christine had only wanted to dream of an Angel, but the price had been far too much to pay.

"Close your eyes, give me your hand, darlin'."

Her voice stilled the air and she knew he was there, watching. She didn't have the effort to ask him to leave.

"You left the door open," came his smooth excuse, as if sensed her tired agitation.

"You don't need to lie to me," she sighed, gazing only out of her window. She could go out to the gardens now, but not alone, never alone.

Erik copied her sigh, "Your life would not be so terrible if you did not let it be,"

Her heart squeezed, "My life would not be so terrible if I knew how to be happy when I am trapped."

"You have the gardens now," he warned defensively, his voice almost asking, 'Is it not enough? Why is it not enough?'.

Her head came to rest on the cool glass, "I feel as if I am starved of light. How can one be happy when all they feel is darkness?"

These debates in half disjointed sentences, these conversations in riddles and rhymes, were not uncommon. Erik took whatever he could out of her, never knowing when her mood for speaking to him would disappear.

"Darkness is not always bad, my dear," he replied gently.

Christine merely sighed again, "But neither is a bit of light." Her eyes scanned the treeline, "I want to go home," she whispered.

"You are home," Erik reassured.

Where's Mama Valerious? Where's the park and swings I used to know? Where's little Meg? Where are the people that I love? Where is the freedom that I deserve? Her mind called out.

"Please let me go home, Erik. I don't know why I am here." Her voice became desperate and she turned to look at him, pleading with his amber orbs. He remained silent, only his fists curling.

"You can be in my life at home! I swear, I won't touch him. I won't even try." Her lips were trembling, "Please, I know I've asked before. I swear I won't commit suicide-" Erik flinched but she continued, "But I just feel like I'm dying! Don't you understand?" her voice broke and there was an ugly crack as Erik slammed his fist down on the drawer at the end of her bed. Christine recoiled.

"Enough!" he warned, "I have heard enough about your homesickness, I have heard enough about that stupid snivelling boy and I will not have you die!" his fist slammed again and Christine shrank into the seat at the window, aware she had angered him once more.

But the man saw her fear and let out a long slow breath, "Forgive me for my impoliteness, but I mean what I said. This is your life now and this is how it shall be until we m–" he swallowed, "I wish for you to be happy, remember that Christine. Do you realise that you never belonged in that horrible mass of the modern world?" the words faltered as he took a few steps closer, "Did you know that without my interference, you would have never embraced the music within your soul? That without me, you surely would have been on antidepressants by now – or were you scared to realise that you had been 'dying' for the last few years of your life?" his voice finished softly, gliding closer towards her once again, "You were dying when I heard that voice of yours and you did not even realise." A hand slowly came nearer and Christine was far too frozen to stop it, his voice demanding all attention, "I have made you Christine. I have made you, so that you can never belong to another, because they will never hear you the way I do," her eyes seemed locked with his, her heart beating only from his words that were worming their way into her consciousness, as if branding her, raising the label he had installed from so long ago, to the surface. As if he were Frankenstein and she was his creation.

"I love you and in time, you will love me. I do not know when, or how long it will take, but I am a patient man." And there, she felt the lightest caress on her face, so tender that it felt like it was borne of love. Her body lent into it, her mind soaring on a high, heartbeat fluttering as if it was a kiss to her senses, cold, deathly cold – but how she burned where his fingers lay. This felt right at last. And so very wrong.

No!

She lurched back from him, horrified of what just came over her, as if her soul had pulled her body of its own accord, flying closer to the terrible sun, the monster that was Erik.

But while she recoiled in horror, horror, horror, his eyes were suddenly filled with an ambience that would surely never die. "Oh Christine," her name that made her wince with the amount of reverence he whispered it with, as if she were the holy deity he had been worshipping, there was something more pure than triumph in his eyes, as he marvelled, "Did you not just see? You were made for me; your soul calls out for me. You cannot deny this," he promised as if he would never let this go, as if he had just secured something far grander than her supposed 'soul'. As if it were some token of her love.

She was shaking her head, "No, Erik. No. That – that did not happen. I hate you. I hate you!" she cried with increasing desperation while Erik above her shook his head at her, solemn and silent. As if he was pitying her.

"Get out! Get out right now!" she screamed, standing and daring to push him back, back the ghoul which controlled her.

No!

She pushed him to the door, shoving him once more and sending him stumbling out into the hallway before slamming it shut.

"I'll never love you Erik Destler, I swear it!" she cried out, before slumping down and cradling her head in her hands.

But she never heard the locking mechanism click shut.

That week, Christine had chosen to stay away from him out of fear. He had touched her! That was a surprise in itself, but oh damn her idiocy, she had only condemned herself more to his care. But it was in the library he finally caught her outside of her domain. However, she had been sure he was out somewhere – Christine hadn't heard music in two days – so she had snuck out like a thief to immerse herself in his vast collection of fictional tales.

It had been the first day of spring he had let her out, a wonderful day it had been however, as she was quickly learning, England's weather was as unpredictable as she had always heard it was. Dark clouds loomed and the first patters of rain teased the window. A typical April shower.

Sometimes, she would have so many books she wanted to read, she would painstakingly discard a few before carrying the ones she could manage before sneaking back up to her room where Erik wouldn't disturb her. But she did not deny that her freedom had been bought by spending more time with him. But now, after a week of isolation, she dared not ask to go outside, for most likely he would require a debt of interactions with her for one such an outing, since she knew it was the only bargaining chip he had. Going outside alone was entirely out of the question, but her soul longed to do so, if only she would have some time without his searching eyes or heated gaze. Oh, how she wished to wander those fields all by herself! To be able to gaze freely, roam wherever she liked, without those draining instances where surely the awkwardness of fake interactions would make her regret coming out at all.

It was not that he wasn't interesting. It was not that he didn't inspire such wonder and curiosity when she was around him. It was the fact she did not want it. She would not let herself fall into that trap. Christine had to remain strong, remain distant. Even if she was more miserable, even if she ached for freedom with each passing day. For she would dream, dream of being free. No longer a bird in a cage of her master's will. No longer tied to someone that terrified her with his strange, mystic sadness. Had things been different, perhaps, she would have been friends with him. Yes, she – friends with a murderer. A criminal. A bandit.

Had things been different, she would have never known his dreadful poisonous love and obsession. And she would have been able to keep her distance with ease, he would have never realised how he drew her in – for she would have made sure he would have never found out!

"You are day-dreaming," the masked man remarked fondly.

She froze, books in her arms like she was stocking for isolation. Well, she was really.

Christine couldn't turn around.

The man sighed, "You should know better than to sneak around like a child." A pause, "You are mistress of this grand estate, it is yours to peruse at your leisure."

Though his tone made her shudder, she saw an opportunity, asking, "So, if I am 'mistress', should I wish to go outside alone, I can?"

Christine turned slightly, sighting the black shape that was Erik from the corner of her eye.

His yellow eyes met hers sharply, noticing her movement, before saying carefully, "Should I agree, I do not wish to have to ration your company. Is it so much to ask for your presence at mealtimes, or at least dinner? If I play, is it but a dream to hear your voice next to mine? That it is all I ask. I gave you rooms to hide – I know such a thing to a woman is essential, but I do not request much in return. If you agree, I will allow you to roam my grounds unaccompanied. There will be a few areas not to be disturbed, like the grape vines and orchards when ripened and such for them to be picked, and the perimeter is not to be touched for it is heavily electrified and I do not wish for you to singe your fingers, however," his gaze remained steady upon her, "I shall grant this wish, if only you agree to my terms."

Christine wanted to argue, wanted to compromise, but she knew that this was the best deal she would acquire. Gritting her teeth, she gave a curt nod of acceptance.

He cocked his head, "A vocal promise, my dear," he said tolerantly.

For a moment her fingers trembled, clenched and she forced herself to calm – by letting out an unsteady breath. Squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, she turned to him fully, "I promise, Erik."

From the corner of her eyes, the light in his glowing orbs seemed to soften.

"I am pleased," he voiced softly. Then he straightened, giving a perfunctory dusting of his hands he asked, "Now, shall we head to dinner? Or should I tell Miss Heather to put it aside for later?"

"Uh- I'll come," she nodded distractedly, before glancing to her pile of books.

"I will show you a place to put these," Erik offered and when she glanced curiously at him, he guided her to a little glass cabinet on the other side of the room.

Sliding open the glass door, he gestured for her to settle the books inside.

"I have used this as a place to keep books I have retrieved to read. You may use it as you like," he explained in a quiet voice.

Christine gave him an appreciative nod, stepping away as he closed it once more.

Thankfully, he did not offer his arm to her as he guided her to the dining room. Christine knew she could not accept it, yet did she want to discourage the progress they had made that evening. Maybe that horrible day had taught Erik restraint on taking things too quickly between them. Christine only hoped he would not dare touch her again so soon and her heart squeezed uncomfortably at the thought of him doing so.

'The hillside was mourning in melancholy,

The trees whispered and sighed,

The river wound round and round,

The hilltop of Richerman's Rye,

It was said it was mourning the world,

A plate of stone resting like a grave,

Someone came to plant it there,

And spread ashes around to graze,

The grasses rustled in despair,

The crows cawed in sympathy,

The wind moaned and cried,

Yet no one else came to mourn on the hillside of Richerman's Rye,

Forgotten was the someone,

Forgotten they be,

For no one came to pay their respects,

No one played the requiem to thee,

No song could be heard,

A mute spirit haunted the site,

But should anybody come,

The wind howled tonight,

Nature lamented the loss,

A creature unknown to it,

For compassion it showed,

As no one else saw it fit,

So, the hillside was mourned in melancholy,

The trees whispered and sighed,

The river wound round and round,

The hilltop of Richerman's Rye,'

Grunting, Christine screwed up the sheet of paper into a ball. The ball skidded into the corner, just bypassing the bin.

Another dozen words that meant nothing. Another dozen meaningless pleads, incomprehensible feelings. Another dozen moments of pain inscribed into paper, mourning the life she would never live again.

The lounge that was on the ground floor, was a quiet place of refuge. However, it was also meant that she was not 'hiding' and fulfilling her side of the bargain. Christine had taken downstairs a fountain pen and a few sheets of paper the words that had been humming in her mind since that afternoon's venture outside. As much as she had wanted to drag canvas, or a sketch pad outside, she had taken to wandering the fields, gazing at the beautiful butterflies and bees that buzzed contentedly on the lavender. It had been peaceful. For the first time for months, she had been able to smile freely. She hadn't been peering over her shoulder for the shadow haunting her to appear, hadn't been pulling Raoul to a sun-lit canopy to hide within the crowds and open space. Christine had talked to him as if he were there, imagining it was a stroll with him in the fields and she had been freely been able to entwine her arm around his in comfortable companionship. Erik had never once flittered through her mind, even as she had dipped her feet into the water by brook she had first skipped a stone upon a mere week ago, even as her back hit the grass to gaze into the sunlight filtering through the trees.

Everything had been a bit hazy; Christine had been in such a hurry to leave that morning that she had forgotten her contacts. Her old glasses had been lost, most likely somewhere in her gargantuan apartment. The apartment that had been paid by none other than Erik. If she mentioned she would require another pair, she knew that he would buy her some without so much at blinking at the cost. Christine wondered if he would include her in choosing some, or if he would pick for her. Would he listen if she asked to be able to chose some herself?

Sighing she placed the spare page onto the coffee table, along with her pen and gazed down at her ink stained fingers.

Nadir sighed, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes.

"Damn you, you insufferable man," he muttered, blearily blinking at the clock that mocked him. At nearly one in the morning, Nadir had still been pursuing down traces of any evidence for the missing girl leaving the states. Nadir had been blissfully unaware of what had made Erik buoyant in the last six months and had only arrived at the terrible conclusion when Erik had mysteriously disappeared and he received a notification of his services being required. Nadir, a private investigator and retired from the police force, had received the summons from the great de Changy line.

His prior relations to the de Changy's was due to a search to find other possible heirs that could bid for the accommodated wealth of the Changy's prominent organisation; it was one that often dabbled in being patrons to the arts, investing in medical research and forwarding tech companies for shares in the business - one that had gained them a large net value. The two brothers, Phillipe and Raoul de Changy, had been challenged in their French heritage and Nadir had been the one who had confirmed that those two were the sole heirs to the company and were in fact, descended from French nobility.

The eldest of the two, Phillipe, had rung him on a state of dire emergency and a promise of a healthy sum if he solved their case. Summoned to the upper part of the city, where the area was clean and people wore designer clothes as daily attire, his jade eyes spied the Changy's centeral tower block. Nadir had walked into the glamorous skyscraper and took the lift to the highest floor, to greet his old client. However, it was not only Phillipe that had welcomed him with a worried frown, it was a spitting image of Phillipe's younger self beside him, that he knew was his brother, Raoul. Both bore signs of tiredness, however the latter was by far the worst in hiding his fatigue. Haggard was the only word that could describe the young man, frantic energy being combated by weary sleeplessness – it seemed as if he had not eaten or slept in several days.

Phillipe cleared his throat, "Mr Kahn, welcome. We are thankful you have come on such short notice, it is appreciated. This is Raoul, my brother, of which I remember you meeting several years ago when you came to have our DNA tested," Phillipe's smile was more of a grimace.

The two gave polite greetings before the elder brother continued, "The reason I have asked you to come is that a dear friend of ours is missing. The police have done nothing to aid us, saying that since she is of legal age to be an adult she can travel as she wishes. Since they could see no sign of abduction, they were not apparently sold on the idea that she was –"

"Kidnapped." Raoul interrupted, before saying vehemently, "She's been kidnapped,"

Phillipe cast his brother an irritated glance, "Interrupt me later brother. For now be quiet for now until you have something of use to say." While Raoul merely took his chastisement with a scowl, Phillipe continued, "However we believe that she has been abducted." At this, Phillipe cast his cold blue gaze at Nadir, "And we also believe you can find out who's she's been taken by."

Nadir sighed, closing the lid of his laptop and wrinkled his nose at the sight of the cold coffee before him. How he wished that he had taken more initiative when Erik had plied him with excuses for his ambience. It had been the nearest to happiness the old man had ever seen rouge killer be. Some would call his relationship with Erik 'friendship'. It lay in ruins now.

Erik had told Nadir he 'had discovered a musical epiphany' and a new 'magnum opus to complete' – all spoken in relative words that only made adjective sense. Where Erik had truly meant it literally, Nadir had only understood that Erik had discovered something on a spiritual level, the thought never once passing his mind that Erik truly had found his so called 'calling'. The bastard must had known it too! Erik most likely had been cackling in wicked glee knowing that his Iranian keeper had pleasantly assumed Erik had achieved higher happiness, based on something that only transcended the limits of his genius, rather than on something that walked the earth.

Nadir had never assumed one like Erik would become attached to another of the opposite gender. It hardly seemed in his programming to take notice of the fairer sex, Nadir recalled that Erik had basically sworn himself to celibacy and devoid of interaction of the female population for the rest of his 'goddamn years stuck on this forsaken hell of a world'. Nadir had remained under that impression for several long (what seemed to be), lifetimes and had been relieved to find himself devoid of the duty for protecting the female gender from a praying genius. Yet somehow, he had failed to recognise those deadly signs which afflicted a man when in love, that was then revealed to be a deadly obsession for a certain originally unassuming Christine Daae. Nadir hadn't questioned the longer absences of Erik in his life; there had been some years where Erik had disappeared altogether to pursue a new domain in one art or another which required learning and travel and had written to Nadir in letters only. Yet despite his distance, Erik had been closer to Nadir in this phase of recent years, his spirit ever being tied to his underground domain underneath the earth on the outskirts of the city.

To find that the missing Daae girl had been in fact related to Erik's sudden absence – his weekly letter did not show on his desk and Erik was anything but tardy – had sent his mind stumbling. Yet, he had seen one clue to the fact Christine Daae had been his new goal. Nadir had unwittingly stumbled upon a feminine pair of glasses in Erik's home. One that Erik had obviously secreted away to find the prescription of, 'Allah knew why' he had only thought at the time. Erik had been quick to assume Nadir had consumed too much liquor or was growing far too tired in his decrepit age. Though Nadir had been certain that he had seen them with his very own eyes, yet without the evidence at hand (for Erik had made the evidence 'disappear' as he was prone to do), Nadir had let himself be convinced by a crafty Erik. It was only after seeing a picture the Changy boy had of the young couple beside each other featuring those very same glasses, along with the uniquely specific scratch along one arm, did it unravel the horrifying truth. Erik's home had been deserted when Nadir had managed to locate it (Erik had always driven him to his home with a blindfold on since the masked man was a wily fellow), but there in the remains were the same pair of glasses, though they had been missed after they had skittered to a dark corner in the commotion.

It had been a sudden abduction, it seemed, as if Erik truly had rushed out with the girl in tow, or unconscious, as Nadir suspected it might have been. However, Nadir was also inclined to say that it had the element of something long awaited. The last letter he had received had indicated something of a finality but did not have that characteristic unpredictable rage that would take precedence when Erik would be inclined to, for example, kill someone. Raoul had confirmed that it had only been a day at most he hadn't seen her after their secluded holiday alone and when he came around, he was horrified to see that she was no where to be found. Only a tidily typed note explained she did not know when she would return; she was spending her inheritance to travel. Though the motive of travelling had always been known to the boy as a dream of Christine's, it had seemed so out of character the boy assumed the worse.

He reported that Christine had been increasingly worn and pale for the last half a year – which matched to around the time Erik had changed his behaviour – and had often seemed hounded by some unseen force. Her best friend had also said that she had been unpredictable, once she had been missing for a week out of the blue and odd days and weekends no one could seem to reach her. Though Christine had made the excuse of being busy and working, sources from her concerned employer (she ran a local bookstore) and unofficial "guardian", a kind old lady that had taken to Christine like a mother housing a stray, had informed them that she though only worked three days a week, she had often been sick on weekends, so, in fact her work days had decreased to only two days a week. Not to mention that Christine had spontaneously quit schooling to take up a small chorus part in a local theatre, whilst also moving to a more secluded apartment as a consequence.

However, though this evidence all pointed to one culprit, this did not mean that Nadir had any new leads on where Erik had taken her. The robust Girys, the elderly mother figure which referred to herself as Mama Valerious and the de Changy brothers were all fearing for the girl's well-being, were depending on him to solve this mystery and save poor Christine. But there was not enough evidence to get the higher forces involved and it would not surprise him if Erik had managed to infiltrate the government, so what Nadir could do when he did make headway was also limited. Erik had hideouts across the world so Nadir would somehow have to find out every one of them before he could narrow down which hideout Erik had been the most likely to take her there.

Not to mention, if Christine would still be alive when they found her. It would perhaps be a miracle if they did not find her mad, broken beyond repair. If Nadir were able to make one miracle happen, he would choose to let Christine know that she was not alone - that her family here wished for her safe return. Yet, the despairing inside of Nadir was that he knew it was all too easy to forget with Erik beside you.

He had the ability to make anything to disappear if he truly wished it so.

And that was what Nadir feared the most.

That there would be no Christine Daae left once they find her.

So, that's our lovely Daroga for you! Hehe, I can't wait to warm up to him as a character. I know some people may be thinking that our PI has been lacking in his pestering skills and lacking in finding out what Erik has been up to, however I will disclaim that all will be revealed at some point in time and tell you that Erik is usually meticulously well put together in front of Nadir – because he knows that Nadir is no fool. Also while Erik is incredibly private about certain topics, if Nadir would pry at Erik's clam shell, Nadir most likely would get his head bitten off – which is probably not far from the literal truth. Plus, Erik is a devious little so and so, and Nadir could hardly expect he'd fall in love with a girl. It is rather occ for Erik, who swore off all humanity and the female population…And now Nadir has to pick up the pieces. And he didn't even get to drink his coffee – he was mighty upset about that.

Small hello from Phillipe and Raoul of course – those two are adorable. Considering that Phil's a busy man, he's a very good brother helping out Raoul and trying to find little Chrissy, isn't he?

Anybody like Christine's iconic glasses saving her from certain doom? Who knew that glasses could be so important!

(Side note: The poem is meant to have stanzas separated as four lines each, since I am still learning formatting, I don't know if it will show up!)

Things seem to be heating up in the Destler household, I hope Christine will be able to manage to keep her distance – yet how much longer can she put off in gaining an attachment to our good genius… or what's to say she hasn't already? DUNNN DUNNNNN DUNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!

I do hope to also include the good Mama Valerious in this too ;P so that's going to be fun!

Also, pwease feed your author and review, would you? I am always inclined to write quicker if you do so! Erik is always in a better mood as well if you do. ^^

Merci,

Enigma