Chapter 22 – Her Lies

It was a short journey. One hour and thirty minutes on the plane and they landed just outside of Paris. Departing seemed almost quicker than arriving, even though with both airports she had never visited them before. What shocked her the most were the crowds! Oh and she had thought the airport in London had been hectic, but this was heaving. Escorted once again through the masses, most speaking with the fluent grace of the French language, marble floors and wide panels of windows, Erik deftly guided the wheelchair through the throngs of people. Most retreated when they saw their approach, however the few that didn't quickly scurried away from the heat of Erik's glare. Their luggage had already been collected from baggage claim and sent en-route to their hotel, as Erik told her as they bypassed the station.

After one well-needed loo-break (she was allowed the freedom to take off her glasses once she was in the 'disabled cubicle'), Erik whisked her out of the entrance. The waning light glowed amber, glancing off the steel concrete before the lined-up taxis waiting for customers and busses arriving to drop off passengers for their flight. The buzz was still palatable outside of the airport and as Erik walked them down the pathway heading to the back of the carpark, avoiding the security cameras. Christine surveyed their surroundings to the best of her ability through the tinted glasses. Thankfully, the nausea had indeed reduced the more she had opened her eyes.

"Where's Mathew?" Christine murmured.

Erik gave a low chuckle, "My petite, Mathew did not take the flight to Paris,"

Christine blinked, fingers gripping her hand rests, "So who are we waiting for?"

"Another of my associates, of whom should be coming momentarily – ah," Erik stopped as he saw something in the distance she couldn't. Minutes later a sleek vehicle pulled up beside them and a dark shape closed the driver's door.

Christine blinked as a man very similar to Mathew came into view, "Is this is his brother?"

Erik came forward, offering a hand as was his custom throughout their journey to help her balance, "No, it is his twin, actually. He's named Stefan,"

Erik helped her to the car as the Not-Mathew opened the door for her. Coming to the other side, Erik elegantly strapped himself in and Christine pulled down the edge of her sleeve habitually. A few moments after the car started its journey, Erik raised the privacy screen, seeming to require the seclusion they had little of that day. Christine took the opportunity to ask a question of hers that had she had been harbouring ever since she had first seen Mathew.

"So, how did you recruit them?"

Erik's unnerving blue eyes glanced at her, observing her analytically, "They were two boys in need of financial aid," he answered, until he saw her expectant expression and continued in a softer voice, his gaze travelling to the screen thoughtfully, "I enlisted them to manage my multinational distributing of produce from England. On the odd occasion, they arrange travel for me,"

Christine's brow furrowed, "So you picked up two boys off the street to manage your business?"

Erik's fake lips gave a smile, "If I remember correctly, Stefan was wielding a knife at my throat demanding my money as Mathew aimed to block any escape. Realising than rather dispatching the two presumptuous young men for their poor attempt to mug me, I paid for their education in learning business and put their minds to use,"

It took a minute to absorb the information. One that Erik would spare those who would even attempt to defy him and that he had seen the potential in two men who had tried to rob him.

Just like he had seen potential in me, her mind whispered.

"And what about Clarice?" she turned to him and was surprised to see faint alarm in his eyes. Then it vanished like a wisp, but she couldn't place the new emotion in his gaze. It looked far too raw for someone like Erik.

"She was in the wrong place at the wrong time," he muttered lowly.

"But –"

"The hotel we will be staying at is Hôtel Particulier Villeroy, of which is central in Paris and it will take very little time to arrive at other landmarks that you may wish to see," Erik interrupted, voice hardening slightly.

"Particulier?" she questioned. It was better to pursue the mystery that was Clarice at another time. Perhaps when her guardian had a few of glasses of wine he was so fond of.

"Private," he replied, almost smugly, "I am sure you will be most pleased with the facilities provided,"

"Just how posh is it?" Christine asked suspiciously, glancing outside to watch the passing streets as they drew nearer to Paris, "I don't think I'll meet up to their expectations as a blind mute niece,"

Erik huffed in amusement, "Christine, how are you expecting to see Paris' wonders if you are pretending to be blind? No, that was merely our story if we were asked on the trip here,"

"So what are we posing as then?"

Please. Tell me he was kidding earlier.

He sighed wearily, "I merely said that you will not be blind. Not that you will not be my niece in this façade,"

Oh.

"So separate rooms then?" Christine tried not to sound very happy about the idea.

Erik met her gaze steely, "Not entirely, they will be joined, but in essence you will have your own set of rooms to yourself,"

My own set of rooms! My own set of rooms…Woah. This place is going to be swanky.

Christine let out a puff of air, lying back in her seat, "This place is going to be way out of my price range," a giddy smile crawled onto her face, despite to stop its efforts.

I'm going to be in Paris, in a fancy hotel, for an entire week. Exploring. Hell, am I dreaming?

For one glorious moment, she was elated. Until she realised her companion was studiously cataloguing her out-of-character behaviour. Quickly, she schooled her expression into one of detached neutrality, staring out of the window and avoiding the man's gaze.

Yet inside, her heart pumped with excitement as she finally saw the sign up ahead that screamed Paris.

Evening was as romantic in Paris as it had been in all her daydreams. Never had she thought that the circumstances around adventuring to this city would have the set she had received, staring through the yawning windows in a suite of warm wood and cream. Papa would tell her that she should be grateful of the luxury that beheld her, smile at her wonderful opportunity…Or maybe he'd just shake his head at her for spending her time looking out the windows, gazing at the streets of cars and people, when they could be singing in the lounge providing entertainment for the guests.

Oh, Papa. You'd know what to do, what to say, how to exist.

How she longed for the biting chill of the graveyard's wind, the wail of the gates as they screeched open, the soft moss that grew tenderly around her father's grave. But it was not to be, she made that trip in December or January and it was summer. Spring. Whatever month it was.

But there was hope. There was. Christine had counted two green exit signs on their way up the stairs. One was at the end of their corridor.

How it whispered to her, even now it called to her. Come, follow me, you'll be free. Free. Free. Free.

Just don't look behind you.

Christine shuddered and stood, glancing at her half-unpacked suitcase on her bedspread (yes, the dozens of decorative cushions had already been thrown to the corner of the room). The ornate clock sitting on the mantle piece told her it was coming near to eight o'clock and her stomach gave a small grumble.

Just as she approached the door in her lounge that connected their set of rooms, Erik's calm rap echoed.

"My dear, our dinner has been delivered, would you care to join me?"

She surprised herself with opening the door, only to find Erik hovering there. He had moved back to his black mask, this time the one with the beard, that barely concealed his shock.

"I was just coming to ask about the dinner situation," she shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

Erik viewed her carefully, guiding her in with one arm, "Please, come in,"

Christine walked past, making sure she didn't brush him accidentally as she sat down at little table in the dining room; Erik had obviously sent word they wouldn't be eating in the restaurant tonight. Both were wearied from their journey and Christine knew Erik would likely be prickly if introduced to more people that day. He had already shown coldness to their 'butler' that evening, who seemed accommodating – even friendly – at first and had quickly shrunk under Erik's less than hospital reception. But she had been proud at her improvisational skills, explaining her 'Uncle's' grumpiness was due to tiredness and a whispered apology for his behaviour that Erik had pretended not to hear.

Still, she had been shocked at the idea of having a butler enlisted to them and had been vaguely uncomfortable at the sight of someone subservient to her every whim.

"I ordered for you, since you were still sleeping when the menus arrived," Christine sensed the apology in his tone and she looked up. Those yellow eyes seemed to want something from her.

She nodded gently, "Thank you. I was tired earlier,"

It was to her relief that Erik's gaze warmed at this and he seemed to sit up straighter. Erik stirred the mashed potatoes around his plate and cut the beans up neatly, arranging them in alternating lines of notes. Christine had to supress her laughter when Erik blinked in surprise as he was caught in the act and he went back to taking occasional sips of his wine, pretending that the incident never happened.

Yet, there was a gleam in his eye that she hadn't noticed before.

Main course transitioned into desert and Erik managed to coax her into trying her tiramisu. Christine had never been overly fond of cheese, but as she had discovered with Erik's goat cheese, she was also partial to mascarpone in the Italian desert.

Erik politely invited her to sing when she spotted the piano lurking in his lounge, however she declined.

"Yes, you must be tired after a day of travel," he remarked in that silver voice, "Tomorrow I am unfortunately absent for the morning, but in the afternoon we will perhaps be able to visit a destination that you wish to see," Erik rose from their little dining table, heading to the lounge and gathering the brochures that had appeared there.

Passing them to her, she saw that they were tourist guides to different parts of Paris.

"Assuredly, you have brought markers with you, or at least paper and a pen. Make a list of places you wish to see and I will evaluate them tomorrow,"

Christine nodded, tidying the guides in a neat pile, sensing Erik had more to say.

He cleared his throat, "You will not be able to leave these rooms without my accompaniment or an aide sent by me in my absence. I put a great deal of trust in you that you will not disobey me in such a request, Christine,"

She nodded again.

Erik sighed, kneeling down swiftly so that they could be face to face. A finger carefully lifted her chin to face him, the leather cold and clammy, "You will do as I ask, won't you, my dear?"

"Yes Erik," it was said not so much as a robot, but a soft will of compliance.

It hurt to see how watery those eyes became in front of her, before her head was left to droop and he stepped quickly away.

"You're a very good girl," it hurt more to hear the utter reverence in his voice.

Swallowing the hurt away, Christine looked down at her brochures, "Thank you for bringing me here,"

There was a moment of silence before she had the will to stand and go to the door leading to her rooms.

Just as the door closed she heard a whisper of 'You're welcome'.

How Christine wanted to hold those words and cradle them to her chest.

To help her ease her aching muscles, Christine started a bath. Pouring in a little of the bath wash the hotel had provided for free, bubbles started to form along the marbled sides of the tub. Shedding clothes that landed in an unceremonious heap on the floor, she dipped her toes in and immediately pulled them out again, flinching at the heat.

For the first time, she missed the convenience of having Clarice start her bath so by the time she'd nibbled on her breakfast the water had cooled to an agreeable temperature. Christine snorted; earlier she had balked at the sight of the butler and now she was lamenting at not having hired help run a bath for her. Oh, how spoiled had she already become? The thought was an unappealing one.

The white tiles of the walls reminded her of her very dear dorm kitchenette, even though the white had been grimy in comparison to the walls that greeted her now. Finally, after a few minutes of impatient waiting, Christine slipped in, gasping at the heat. Soon, Christine relaxed, loving the bubbles that surrounded her and contentedly drew herself further into the tub.

There was nothing wrong with her bed in Erik's home. In fact, the nights she was back in her dreary dorm she cursed the springs that dug in her back. How she had spent a great deal of time gazing sombrely at the dusk misting before her window before she would get ready for lessons.

Meg was just walking out of the dorms when Christine managed to arrive back on campus; she had to stumble out of the back-alley Erik had dropped her in a safe distance away from the University with only a few instructions to get there.

The ballerina's shriek reached her ears just before Meg barrelled into her, lithe dancer's arms squeezing a tight band around her chest.

"Oh my fucking god Christine, you had me so worried!" she half cried into her shoulder.

It took all of Christine's will not to burst into tears herself, the relief, the weariness, the exhaustion of her past week in Erik's cramped underworld creeping up on her.

Meg pulled back, sharp frown lines gazing at her, "Don't you ever, I mean ever, do that again to me. I won't tolerate MIA's from you Christine," the mother-hen of Madame Giry emerged and Christine had never been so relieved to see it.

"I – I won't," her voice cracked with the tears that threatened to pour down her face. At least, she wouldn't go 'missing in action' if she had any say in it.

Meg sniffed, "Good, because next time I will tell mom and then you'll have her to deal with, rather than me,"

Christine and Meg shared a tear-filled smile before the demeanour cracked and Meg came back with worried eyes, "Now come on, lets get you into bed. You look like a train wreck. I gotta call that boyfriend of yours, he's been badgering me like crazy,"

Christine froze, stopping Meg's leading arm as her brown eyes glanced around frantically, "Raoul isn't my boyfriend. Never call him that. Never," she emphasised, unable to stop the tremor and the flash of Erik's amber eyes ingrained in her memory.

Meg came to face her, eyes piercing her with shrewdness, "Did something happen between you two? Are you safe? Did that son of a –"

"No! No!" Christine panicked, fingers gripping her friend's hand, "God no, he'd never do anything like that. I just…" she took an intake of breath, "I just mean that I can never be his girlfriend, I have to focus on my studies and I have that job to keep, you know?" Casual. Keep it casual.

Meg nodded, though from the look in her eyes she didn't entirely accept Christine's explanation. She sighed, leading her again back to the dorms, "Alright girl, but if you do want to tell me anything else, I'll be there for you, ok?" the look in her eyes made the guilt in Christine's chest grow. Oh, how she wanted to! But the lingering threat Erik had made and the ruin he had already brought upon Mama Valerious made her cringe at the thought of endangering Meg.

Meg unlocked her dorm for her, keeping a watchful eye on Christine all the while. Meg sat down on the bed with her, dimming the lights and drawing the curtains even though it was just nearing seven.

Her friend peered into her eyes, "Can you tell me what happened? Seriously,"

Christine swallowed and looked away, "I just wanted to get away for a while. I had to figure things out on my own time and I couldn't have any distractions,"

"On your own, without money, or a car?" Meg asked incredulously. Suspiciously.

Christine bit her lip, "I'm sorry I didn't contact you. I won't disappear for a week like that again. I'll try and tell you next time,"

"Try?"

Christine winced and shuffled away from her stare, "I'll try, but I find it hard to be here sometimes. For my mental health, I've decided that maybe every few weeks I'll camp outside the city and 'get one with nature'," she cracked a smile.

Meg snorted, "Really? I thought you were a bit stronger than listening to those hippies!"

Christine huffed laughter, feeling the shadow of her hair fall, "I met them at the festival; they inspired me so much I felt I had to take off then and there. They provided me with bits and pieces to start out on my own, but I had to 'surrender my earthly attachments' to fully commit to the process," she shrugged, "It really did help. Not feeling the pressure of my phone or social media…"

"There were better ways to do that than start right in the middle of a date," Meg chided, her hand reaching over and brushing the curtain of frizz that separated them.

Christine sniffed away the tears that again prickled her eyes, "Can you –" she hiccupped, "Can you forgive me?"

Meg's concern gave away to amusement, "Unless you can say with absolute certainty you won't descend into madness and join a cult of hippies, then we're good,"

They burst into gales of laughter, but the forced burst of air left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Christine avoided Raoul the best she could; Erik's chilling warning before he let her leave the car reverberating around in her mind.

'The boy, you are not allowed to commune with the boy. No more of these dalliances, Christine. You belong to music now and music will never leave you. A boy's life can be easily quashed, you must understand,'

How mocking his tone was, how deadly, how disturbing. It frightened her more than she could say.

And so, she had kindly told Raoul she couldn't possibly see him. On voicemail, when it neared two o'clock and Raoul was fast asleep and wouldn't answer his phone.

The next morning, she received his phone call but she denied it. Swiping that red telephone button was hard. So was ignoring his numerous texts, even when Meg had called him for her and explained again why Christine couldn't see him.

But she wasn't expecting he'd arrive the next day with a bunch of apologetic daisies.

How dear that face was. It took most of her will not to crumple into those arms that had held her but a week ago, just moments before those lips would ask her for a kiss.

"Christine, oh God, how are you?" he came inside placing the daisies down on her kitchen table before crushing her into his arms.

No. No. No. I can't – if he does anymore I'll crumple. And I'll doom us all.

He's too good. He's too gentle. He's too everything.

Christine pushed him away, even though it went against her every instinct. She looked away from him, but she still felt his hurt.

"Christine, what's wrong? Please tell me what happened that night. What did I do wrong? I thought," here she heard his intake of breath, "I thought everything was going so well,"

She shook her head, at once thankful he wasn't inquiring about the mysterious voice she had heard in the stadium, "I'm sorry about what happened. I got overwhelmed. I needed –"

"You could have just told me,"

Christine ducked away from his searching fingers, "I'm sorry. Meg told you what happened. I realised I need to change my lifestyle a bit," she shrugged, hoping that her act was good enough for him.

Raoul started to pace, "But it doesn't make any sense Christine. I don't think you're telling the truth. I think someone is hurting you. I saw the number of anonymous phone calls on your phone,"

"But Raoul, someone just had the wrong number!" her voice interrupted shrilly.

"Christine – " Raoul placated her with those stirring blue eyes.

"No, I am fine," she said firmly, "I appreciate what you're trying to do Raoul and I know how it looks," she stopped his pacing by clasping his hands, "But it's not, I – I promise,"

She shuddered when his thumb started to rub small circles into her skin. This man would be the death of her.

"Are you sure Christine? You know that you can come and stay over if you need me," his eyes pleaded for her to tell him something, anything that would let him help.

To let her need him.

And she couldn't.

"I think you need to go, I've got a hell of a lot of homework to catch up on," she swallowed, glancing to her bag and the dozen assignments that were piled on her table. And Erik expected her tomorrow for her lesson.

"Christine, I'm worried about you," he persisted, squeezing her hands coaxingly.

She ripped them away; she had been dreading this.

"Stop it Raoul, please. I know my own mind and decisions. I'm not your 'Little Lotte' anymore, I am surviving on my own and I have been ever since you left," she spat, even while she was tearing their walls apart.

Erik; I hate you Erik!

Raoul faltered, stepping backward with despair written on his face. He was innocent. Innocent. She was breaking him.

I am a horrible person.

"I can help you," those words sounded like a small boy she once knew. The one who played the knight to her princess. The dashing pirate to her fearsome warrior, searching for treasure together. Always together.

I don't think you can help me Raoul, even though I swear to God I want to let you.

The sound of the door opening under her touch sounded hollow as she stood by it, waiting for her dream boy, her handsome Raoul, her tearful prince to walk out. To leave her in happy misery.

"I guess I'll just leave then, right Christine?" ah, there was the jab that cut her heart. She supposed abjectly that she was only deserving of it. The anger of rejection would keep him away.

Christine looked at the floor as Raoul brushed past, hating the long moment as he gave her one last look and trudged out of her life forever.

Because God, she would protect him even if it killed her.

By Meg, she was treated more of a china doll, after her 'escape into to the wild' as her friend had dubbed it. However, Christine was relieved that she was able to keep her singing lessons a secret and she had been more careful that usual under Meg's more consistent check-ups. Regularly, Christine would duck into the back alley she had been dropped off in to await her pick-up; it had become a more or less 'official' place for her to meet the driver, as previously the man would corner with his car straight after class. It had been inevitable, since the car park stretched between the auditorium and her dorms, there was little way around it unless she allowed herself to be cornered in a back-alley.

Tonight was different, because she'd finally be able to see Mama Valerious in her new home. Erik had not mentioned if he had known Raoul had stopped by, but even if he did, he was pleased with her efforts in sending Raoul away, as this was her reward for being a 'devoted' student.

It sickened her, knowing that this 'gift' was a freedom she once took for granted. Her job at Mama's Book Store had decreased in enjoyability; there was new staff now since Erik had invested in the business. It was his subtle way of demonstrating the lingering threat of cleaning out Mama's bank account, despite the fact he only revoked it on Christine's compliance to his demands. They weren't the friendly students that worked part time just like her, or the elderly woman she had grown so attached to. No, the stone faces that Erik had implemented seemed to be nothing but robots sent to keep an eye on her. Perhaps an exaggeration, yet there was something about them that set her on edge. Nothing and everything had changed. With the new guardianship of Mama Valerious, Erik had walked into her life in nearly every aspect.

And what did she get from it? Nothing but angry critique on her voice that she'd never wanted to hone. No, the voice she'd never wanted to use after she visited an empty plot in the ground. Every other night she'd have two hours spent in a car, two hours of brutal criticism and a headache the next day. No wonder she had to be picked up after class to make it back before nine o'clock in the evening. No wonder that she was panicking at the piling work and slipping grades, the lack of concentration even when she did get down to completing work.

How many glances over her shoulder counted on obsessive, hoping that it was her mind playing tricks rather than cat's eyes glimmering at her on the ground below her window. Hoping the shadows beneath her eyes could be dabbed at with concealer to make them go away.

There were no pets allowed on campus. There was nothing she could do to hide the weariness that shone in her eyes. Meg had picked up on it and told her to get some medication to help her sleep, or at least go talk to a medical professional.

As if she could talk to a medical professional about her professional stalker.

The car sped along the roads, taking turns towards a greener part of the city. Leaves were turning, burnt to a crisp ochre or a vivid yellow, but the husks wallowed on the ground beneath, littering the path with their corpses. Still, as the car entered a pristine set of gates Christine found herself in awe of the grand mansion that awaited her. Even the sign inscribed with the name 'Periwinkle Retirement Home' looked as shiny and inviting as the sweeping front lawn.

This was the place that the dear woman now resided? Christine could have never afforded such a place for the woman in all her dreams.

She's not my mother and I'm not her daughter! She has family of her own.

You're just an imposter, her mind whispered.

Still, her family didn't really care for her. How often did they visit? Only at Christmas and even then, they never stayed over for longer than to exchange presents and receive a free lunch. Mama Valerious had admitted as such and Christine knew with the woman's tone how much she missed her family who had left her behind.

I'm the only one who appreciates her. I have to make a note of the address now I know the retirement home's name. Looking it up should be easy. At least Erik can't govern me in this anymore.

Thanking the driver cordially, Christine stepped out of the car shrugging on her bag only to stop and admire the building, before stepping inside. The entrance smelled of lilies, the airy walls and wooden beams indicating it had been renovated from a predecessor but that they had kept some of the original. Christine found herself liking the place even more, especially when she spotted a glorious garden through a window that ate up a few acres. There were several occupants of the home being walked around with patient nurses.

It seemed like retirement paradise.

Erik hadn't been kidding when he said he'd upgraded Mama V's accommodation.

She found the bell placed on the reception's desk and dinged it. Christine busied herself with admiring the décor the small lounge before the windows while she waited for a member of staff to arrive.

"Hello, can I help you?" a feminine voice called a few moments later.

Christine turned to a perky receptionist, resplendent in her plum-coloured nursing uniform.

"Hi, I'm here to see Mrs Mable Valerious?"

"Your name?" the woman inquired.

"Christine Daae, Ma- Mable is expecting me," Christine replied with more confidence than she felt.

At this the receptionist's eyebrow quirked and she turned around, grabbing a register from behind and started scanning the page.

"Ah, yes. You're here on the list. Do you know where you're going?"

Christine shook her head.

"Well you'll want to turn down that corridor," she pointed to one heading from the left of the reception, "Head up the stairs to the Greene Ward and it's the second door on your right,"

Christine blinked as she absorbed the information. Left corridor, stairs, Greene Ward, second door to the right.

Nodding, she gave an appreciative smile and a 'thank you' to the receptionist, Christine hurried away before she forgot the instructions she'd just received.

Next time I'm going to have to ask them to write it down.

Light and airy seemed to be the main facets of the Home, as when Christine finally reached Mama Valerious' room, it was as nice as the reception had looked.

"Mama V!" Christine cried as she saw the woman's figure on a chair overlooking the gardens and a particularly nice fountain.

Watery blue eyes met her gaze as they turned to her, filling with joy, "Oh Christine! I had no idea you would be coming – I hadn't heard from you apart from the letter you sent,"

Christine pushed away the surge of remorse, concentrating on the rehearsed speech. Drawing nearer she leant down and hugged the frail old woman, for the time being letting the feeling of safety wash over her. The one place in the world she was sure Erik was not watching.

Erik seemed to have an aversion to retirement homes. Or perhaps what happened in them, she didn't know; there was so little knowledge she had gained during her stay with Erik.

Sitting down, Christine faced Mama Valerious, "I am sorry, truly. I was just in the middle of –"

Mama Valerious interrupted her with a laugh, mirth glimmering in those wise eyes, "I think so, Missy. You've been holdin' out on me, I know the 'love filled gaze' when I see one. So, who's the lucky man?"

Christine gasped, cheeks flaming, "Mama V! I don't –" Christine stopped however when she saw the knowing look and studied the floor sheepishly, "He's amazing. He asked me to a music festival and then, well…"

Mama raised a thin eyebrow, "No, there's more than that. Now tell me about this other man,"

For the second time Christine spluttered, "But – but there's no other man. Really,"

How is she getting all this? What has she lived through to know this kind of stuff?

The older lady chuckled, "Oh dearie, I know a conflict when I see one. I haven't always been this old, you know,"

Christine laughed incredulously, "I had no idea that you would recognise it in me though!"

The woman tapped her nose, "I have my ways," she winked, "Now tell me about this 'other' not man,"

Christine was trapped, there was no way she could tell Mama Valerious about Erik, yet there was no way she could avoid it either. And there was no way she could pull of an unrehearsed lie; now that would definitely be impossible to pass by this keen-eyed woman.

She fidgeted, "I uh – was with a friend. A musical one,"

"And? What has he done?"

Christine glanced up, meeting her eye to eye, "He…teaches me music. That's all. We went away for a week so we could focus on it, because he says I have enough talent that I won't have to write for a living,"

This wasn't just a good lie. It was a great lie. The best she'd come up with so far!

The woman blinked at this, "That wasn't quite what I was expectin', but I suppose it'll have ta do," Mama V. cracked a smile, "Oh, I'm proud of you Christine. I know you love your books, but I've 'eard that voice of yours – yes you do hum well when you are busy stacking the shelves – and I've known you could go far if you pursued it,"

"Really Mama, you think so?" when had her voice become so emotional?

"Of course I do dearie. You're wonderful poppet, simply wonderful. It's no wonder some good genius would finally recognise that talent!"

Christine covered her sniff by leaning over and hugging the woman again, "Thank you. Thank you for believing in me,"

Mama gave her hair a gentle brush with her gnarled hand, "Of course, of course. What would I do otherwise?"

Christine laughed and tried to compose herself, leaning back to reach into her bag. "I've got an apology set of brownies here for you, since I missed seeing you last week. I don't know if you want to share them with your fellow residents?"

Mama Valerious gasped, "Oh that is very kind of you Christine. These bones may be old, but they still love their sweets! I'll share them out this evening in the dining hall, I'm sure I'll have a dozen requests for more next time you come to visit. Thank you," Mama Valerious' smile made Christine's heart fill and she knew that she had made the right choice in submitting to Erik's whims. Anything was worth this woman's happiness and comfort, this place had seemed to remedy her spirit, even though Christine was slightly alarmed to see the fragility of the woman.

Perhaps this place had only slowed the inevitable.

"Christine…May I ask how I came to be here?" Mama's tentative voice broke Christine from her thoughts, "I was told I received some funding from the government as a sort of bursary for allowing them to keep the store going in my absence, but I hear that you argued for it?"

Christine tried to stop herself from stiffening, "Yes, I did. Quite vehemently. I thought I hadn't managed to make them listen to me, but in the end it seemed like I did. I had to sign it in my name but the debt had been already dissolved by the time you were moved here. For the affect on your health it caused, they moved you to an upstate retirement home and an anonymous benefactor of the government pays for your stay. It's part of some program to help the 'vulnerable' that they've made to keep people from being made homeless while balancing out taxes or something," Christine shrugged at the last part, hoping her easy-going façade wasn't seen through.

"Oh," Mama Valerious contemplated the information, "I haven't heard of that project before,"

The laugh ran through her lips, "It's new and rather secret since the government doesn't want everyone trying to claim on it; its rather selective. You happened to meet the right criteria. We just got lucky, Mama V," she added gently, reaching and squeezing Mama Valerious' hand.

The woman nodded, eyes gazing distantly for a few moments, "I suppose I'll never get to thank this mysterious benefactor, will I?"

A chill ran through her and she swallowed, "Probably not,"

Thank god, because she didn't want Erik anywhere near her Mama Valerious.

However, Christine forced a smile and changed subject, "Now, why don't we take a stroll through the gardens and you can tell me all about the amazing activities you've been up to,"

Christine awoke to the fresh smell of patisseries. Moaning in delight, Christine stretched, relishing the feeling of weightlessness of the bed's memory foam, wriggling her toes.

"I. Love. France," she groaned, turning over, pressing her head to the pillow and grinning in glee.

Her hand reached out, touching the cooler side of the bed.

"Raoul?" she patted around, "Raoul?"

He was with me, he is here with me, right?

Christine sat up, wiping the dream dust from her eyes and searching the room frantically.

Empty. It was empty!

Oh.

Christine swallowed the crushing disappointment, knowing the man she'd seen crawl into bed with her had just been a dream. And everything else? Christine blushed, her mind recalling the sensuous make-out session that had taken place under the covers. Oh, how she had missed the cautious touch of his lips on hers, the fingers that brushed her neck delicately, the melding of their bodies as they pressed together. She clung to the fading dream desperately, going so far to sniff the pillows in an aim to hope for Raoul's scent to be there. That any minute the spray of the shower would turn on and she'd laugh in relief that oh, she'd just missed Raoul getting up.

But all that greeted her was the sterile smell of fabric conditioner.

Fine. She was fine. She didn't just dream up her boyfriend and curled up on the inside when she realised that he really wasn't there.

Erik. Where was Erik?

Right. Christine blinked. Erik said he was going out somewhere, didn't he?

" 'Course, he wouldn't say where," she grumbled, sliding out of the bed, neatening the covers and padding to the bathroom.

After washing and attending to her daily needs, Christine found out where the smell of pastries were coming from as she entered Erik's set of rooms and saw the feast laid out on the table.

A note (she shouldn't really be surprised anymore, should she?), was placed delicately for her on a sliver plate. Picking it up, she examined the message on the other side.

'Dearest Christine,

The chambers of ours hold a piano that you may wish to tinker at (for that I have provided some music for you), and there are several shelves of books for you to peruse. As agreed, I will be back later this afternoon. I entrust that you will remain here while I am absent. Lunch can be ordered on a tablet that will be located on the table or room service if you require something other than what is on the lunch menu (check the app called Room Service). You may also notice a present for you beside the tablet.

Yours always,

Erik.'

She raised an eyebrow at the mention of a 'present'. Perhaps it was some 'First trip to France' earrings, or a bejewelled clip for her hair, or something else ornate.

Though her stomach told her to taste the variety of pastries, tartlets stacked upon a silver rack and the porridge drizzled in honey or one of the ruby apples stacked neatly in a bowl, she first sought out the tablet and 'gift'. Christine grinned as she found the device tucked under a bowl of cereal. Beside it was a smaller rectangular parcel in golden wrapping with a decorative silver ribbon on top.

The tag read 'Use if in an emergency – E'. Frowning, Christine tore off the wrapping to reveal a little black brick. A Nokia flip phone, that looked as if it had been made ten years ago.

She chuffed realising that its only function was to phone, text or play an outdated game. No internet.

Yet…A phone that she could have and call –

No. She winced. As if Erik would allow her a phone that didn't tape her conversations with unknown numbers. No, calls would have to wait.

Looking on the contacts, she saw Erik's number listed and the only one there, the number itself was full of sixes and ones. Easy to remember. Part of her wondered what would happen if she rang her old phone's number. Would it start vibrating in a musty box somewhere in Erik's English mansion, or not even connect – if Erik had destroyed it to make sure it could not be tracked. Part of her wanted to call the number and leave a stupid message on it, so it'd surprise Erik if he had the gall to listen to it. Sniggering, Christine sat down at the table, gathering a few bits of food that looked appetising and picked up the tablet.

The tablet had no lock and she couldn't help but smile as she saw the gleaming 'google' tab. However, delight quicky turned into dismay as when she started to type into the box and a screen appeared, stating, 'You have restricted permissions.' She tried again and again, even going as far as turning it off and on and searching the settings for a way to change the permissions. Nada. It required a password she didn't have.

"Damnit!" she cried, smacking the tablet. Oh, she thought there had been a way! Damnit. Either Erik and the hotel were in cahoots, or the hotel really didn't want their guests trying to search up anything.

Sighing, Christine returned to her food. But somehow, she didn't fancy it much anymore.

Christine had stared out of the windows, tried and failed to pace and made attempts at the beginner tunes on the piano. She had learnt a bit on the piano during school classes, but she had never been co-ordinated enough to manage more than one hand, not that they had been really taught. More like told to play as if they had already known. The boy she had been paired with had known and between picking his nose and biting his nails, had taught her a little on how to play. Her Papa hadn't strayed from his violin but had told her in hushed Swedish that he had always wanted to learn how to play one. Had he been able to afford lessons, he would have had more job opportunities, yet because Papa had always sacrificed the money towards his daughter there had been nothing to spare.

Christine lifted her hand from the piano and eyed the door. Could she? Would Erik know if she went for a stroll along the halls, down to the lobby and sat outside, waiting for the afternoon tea served at four thirty sharp?

Why couldn't she?

She snorted softly to herself, as if Erik wouldn't know her every move. As if this little defiance would be worth his ire, to lose his trust and make it ten times harder to manoeuvre.

How she wished for a balcony.

When Erik returned, afternoon sun shone through the windows. The door clicked open and Christine lifted her head when he strode in and stopped in surprise as he saw her on his sofa.

"Did you rest well, my dear? Has everything been to your satisfaction?" he asked, becoming animated again as he resting the black briefcase he had been carrying onto the coffee table. Christine peered at it, stopping when she realised it had a combination to open beside the clips.

"Everything was fine. I couldn't eat all the stuff that was for breakfast, there was too much. Did you order all that?"

Erik sat down on the sofa opposite, "I assumed you would like to try the menu. Was it displeasing to you that you had such an array of options?" he seemed puzzled.

Christine shrugged, hiding her blatant curiosity over the case and closed the book she had been reading, "I don't like to think I've wasted all that food,"

His eyes gleamed, pleased, as he sat back, "Ah, you are being humble, but feeling guilt of our fortune. Peculiar girl," he added endearingly.

Christine wrinkled her nose, "That has nothing to do with it. I just feel you could–" she halted, realising the words she had been about to say were not wise. She couldn't dictate what he spent his money on, even if it was on her. He wasn't her responsibility.

Still, there were better people out there who deserved it all.

The mask shifted speculatively, " 'I could' what? You've aroused my curiosity, do explain,"

Christine cringed, eyes resting on the case, "I'll tell you if you let me see what's inside that case,"

Erik chuckled, "I do believe you have become better at bargaining. Very well. You tell me first, then I shall open it,"

Christine nodded, knowing he wouldn't cheat her, "Well I was thinking that I'd rather you spend more money on those that actually need the money, rather on me,"

Erik regarded her with soft eyes, "You still amaze me with your goodness, Christine," then he sobered, leaning forward, arms on his knees and hands clasped together speculatively, "I suppose there is a possibility of me setting up a charity in your name,"

Christine gave a choked laugh, "I don't want a charity! I just mean that there is so many better ways to spend a fortune on,"

He regarded her, "You mean for me to spend my money on others?"

Christine looked at him straight back, knowing in the way he said it that he asked her something else. But she didn't know what. He had never told her anything interesting about himself. Not anything that wasn't the obvious.

Christine gave him a helpless glance, "I don't know, it'd just make me feel better knowing that all these things you give me benefits someone else,"

He titled his head in an odd way, "You are not the charity case and I receive pleasure in giving you luxury; no one is giving me money to support you. Nor are others needing your help. They are not your responsibility,"

Sighing, Christine leant back on her seat, raising her eyes to the heavens. God, he was so hard to get through sometimes. He seemed to think a completely different way to her as if he didn't know the motive of why people gave to charity. Where was his sense of compassion?

She sat up, asking honestly, "Don't you know why people give to charity?"

Erik contemplated, before he rose and started to pace, "I have been told others can be generous to the less fortunate, others can have bursts of spontaneity, or guilt when facing an image that forces them to realise the world they live in is better than theirs," he turned back and looked at her in such a way she could feel his isolated longing. She was struck with the realisation that he really didn't understand the concept of giving, for the sake of giving.

What has this man been through?

"But you," he breathed, "You are purely motivated by love of others, as a whole, hoping to help others with no malicious thought or purpose…" he paused, "You are truly fascinating,"

Christine laughed off his praise, feeling warm when there was no reason to – embarrassment, "I'm not the only one like that. It's more common than you might think. It's not a horrible world,"

Erik gave a short dark laugh, "That, my dear, is where we disagree,"

Christine's face fell, "You think…You think the world is horrible?" He wouldn't speak of his childhood, or of why he wore a mask, only that he hated the world with a passion. His mask had been a forbidden subject and she had never had enough courage to face his wrath before if she dared.

Sighing, Erik tapped the armrest of his sofa, "The world I've experienced has been vastly different from yours, Christine. Many wish to exterminate what they do not know, to get rid of the ugly like a blight of a plague," he murmured bitterly.

So, Erik's source of pain was his appearance. It finally seemed to make sense and she was reminded of when she had to get him out of that fit – what did he say - 'Erik won't take off the mask'. A shudder went through her, something alarming.

"Erik," she hesitated to ask.

"Yes?"

"How long have you been wearing a mask?"

WOAH IT has been *way* longer for me to get out the chapter! Mainly because I'm facing some exams. Unfortunately, this means I will not be able to post soon; it might be a month and a half before I'm able to write again. So…You have a little bit of a longer episode this time to make up for it!

Thank you to my reviewers: Annabelle Poe and Laurenvbellado 0

To Laurenvbellado:

Your amazing, amazing reviews helped inspire this chapter; the reason why I got down and motored to do this one just before I started my assessments so everyone has you to thank! I am so SO happy you are enjoying this series; it is a pleasure to see you re-reading my work and still commenting with vigour. I am glad that the timelines are well-balanced, the characterisation (such fun haha) is one point and their interactions flow well and how you also want to boot Clarice in the backside (I do too at some points XD). Anyway, you have my humongous gratitude! Keep being awesome!

Technically, I'm writing Paris and France if it is our current year (minus the COVID) and France is one hour ahead of England in terms of time. Sometimes it's not always like that, so I'm just going from what it is currently.

Hehe how did you find Christine's gift? Honestly, what does a girl have to do to get access to the internet around here, amrite?

Also, it's said that the airport that they landed in (the Paris-Charles-de-Gaulle Airport) is the 2nd busiest airport in Europe, behind Heathrow. Since it was a later time in the day, there would most likely be an influx of passengers being dropped off, rather than leaving. And the largest/major airlines are there. Paris has three surrounding airports, but Charles (for short) is the biggest. It is also recorded that it's the 9th busiest airport in the world! – gah I love spitting up facts.

Anyway, it was really fun to write Mama Valerious in this time, and to explore the consequences of her first time vanished. Did you like her interaction with our other characters? How did you like the swanky hotel? It's an actual 5 star hotel, with actual butler service and very central in Paris. It's a 'private' sort of hotel in real life too, though I tweaked the bedrooms, since the website I checked had very little details on them. Still, a bit of fun, no? Not to mention seeing Erik and Christine interact in a new environment, that was an interesting piece to do!

Next up: the answers you've been waiting for. Probably. Plus the 'mysterious' case and maybe some sightseeing! Whoop whoop!

Many thanks,

Enigma