Disclaimer: I am neither Andrew Lloyd Webber nor Gaston Leroux.

Author Note: Hi all! Sorry about the cliffy! Poor Erik, whenever things start to look like they might end up going his way, a sadistic villain has to come along and ruin everything :-)

This chapter is one I have been looking forward to sharing with you, as I wonder what your reactions will be...?! Heehee, I'm going to say no more and let you read.

Thank you so much to my lovely reviewers, you always make my day; Ammaviel, MarilynKC, ListenToTheRainS2, Filhound, TMara, Christineoftheopera.

Onto the chapter!

Eleven- The Worst Possible Thing

Many people awoke the next morning to pain- bitter pain, stinging pain, a pain that swelled and surged with each aching heartbeat and pain that seemed to overcome everything, seizing and tearing with no mercy, it's vicious claws distorting the world until it seemed bleak and devoid of any hope at all. But these people, all awaking and feeling that horrific sensation wash over them, all had different reasons to feel pain.

Pali only had himself to blame- Nadir bitterly told himself that as he saw the gypsy with his ashen face and hollow eyes. After he had gone apparently mad, seizing the gun and bludgeoning Erik over the head with it like a thing demented, Nadir had rounded on him with an onslaught of vicious verbal abuse, demanding answers from the stupid fool. Why did he do that, of all things? Did he have a death wish? Did he want Erik to wake up, find Christine injured in any way and then come hunting for him in the middle of the night, angry and hysterical?!

"I had to do it. You don't understand, Nadir, you can't understand. You don't know Emilian, you didn't know Javert..." was all Pali had been able to choke out, and Nadir had grunted and proceeded to help the trembling fool pack up all his and Erik's possessions, dragging them and the unconscious Erik far into the woodland and a good distance from the camp and Emilian and- Nadir winced- the helpless Christine.

"You'll be very lucky, you fool, if Erik doesn't hunt you down and kill you for what you've done." Nadir muttered once they were relocated deep in the wood, sitting heavily down on a mossy log and staring at the unconscious Erik, shaking his head in disbelief. Pali truly was mad- but Nadir could not help but feel a fierce respect for him, being so concerned for Erik that he would go to such lengths to stop the fool. Nadir knew that there would be no stopping Erik from saving Christine, and he didn't want to stop such a thing for the poor girl was likely terrified- but Pali's, however drastic, actions did mean that Erik had not gone charging headlong into Emilian's tent, unprepared and raving like a loon. That would have ended horrifically, and Nadir shuddered to think it. "But you do know that if you let anything happen to Christine, he will kill you?"

Pali didn't even seem to care at that moment- he wore the expression of someone so exhausted and tormented that nothing could make him scared.

"That will not be a problem, Nadir. I will keep Christine safe from Emilian, I swear this to you." he said softly, as if he were in pain. "And you must keep Erik away from the clan, away from Emilian- agreed?"

"Well, Pali, now that you have knocked Erik unconscious I have no choice but to agree." Nadir was still angry with the gypsy, despite the deep sorrow he also felt. Pali was clearly terrified for both his sake, Erik and Christine, and Nadir knew all too well that fear did the strangest things to people.

Thus, he forced himself to be kind and calm towards the gypsy, instead unleashing the vicious torrent of swear words and curses once he had gone trailing back towards the camp to take care of Christine. Pali might have to contend with a barbaric bully, but Nadir felt like trembling to consider what Erik would do once he regained consciousness. When it came to Christine being at risk, Erik was reduced to his instincts, and those instincts were often violent, murderous and hysterical. Keep Erik away from the clan- Nadir laughed bitterly. How exactly was he supposed to do that? Trying to keep Erik away from Christine when she was in perilous danger would be like trying to hold back a waterfall with one finger- impossible and stupid to attempt.

Pali was not the only one who was terrified- Christine had never been so scared in her life. The previous day, when Pali had suddenly left the large crowd of astonished looking gypsies, she had felt her heart start to thump and her breathing begin to quicken as she felt panic seize her. She had looked around her in wide eyed alarm as the gypsies seemed to awaken from a daze, suddenly all desperate to crowd around this odd, cruel, terrifying man who had made claims that he was their leader- and it appeared that he had been telling the truth. So she had stood there, feeling like a rabbit in the talons of an eagle, hardly daring to breathe and wishing that he would just release her from his horrible, clutching hold on her.

She listened to the conversations that began around her, the confused faces swarming them so she wanted to cower in fear, but she forced herself to remain upright and refused to show her terror to them even thought the world had started to spin sickeningly. Emilian absentmindedly petted her, as if she were a small animal, and she wanted to be sick at the feel of his hands on her in such a way.

Erik will be here, she told herself over and over as she tried to ignore the cackling Adriana who was watching delightedly from the edge of the crowd, Pali must have gone to fetch Erik. She stared at the sky above her, refusing to look at any of the gypsies, imagining what would happen when Erik came storming in to rescue her from this madman- he would see her, his eyes anxious then furious, striding up to Emilian and telling him that she was going to Paris with him, that she wasn't some plaything for the clan to pass around- the she was his. Christine's heart stuttered and she felt a small blush come to her cheeks at the thought of it- she felt odd, as if she were floating, her heart fluttering inside her and she wondered what it was, this feeling of happiness and joy and shy speculation that seemed to manage to overcome even her terror in this moment. All she had to do was imagine Erik and she could stop trembling and face these barbarians.

"E-Emilian? I don't believe it! We feared that you might never return to us!"

"We've been waiting for you, Emilian, waiting for you to come back and lead the clan!"

"What have you found, leader? Oh, the singer girl- the quiet one! She is forever slipping off into the woods, it is good of you to discipline her!"

"You may have her, Emilian, if you want her- no one else has no much as touched her yet!"

The gypsies crowded Emilian like gulls flocking to the remains of a rotten fish; immediately they were submissive and adoring of him, treating him as if he were some kind of God amongst them, though Christine somehow knew that it was their fear of him that made them act that way. Although she understood their fear, and shared it, she still felt an odd sense of betrayal that they were letting her be held in the vile mans clutches and she stiffened when she heard that hideous comment- they were offering her to him?! No one had touched her YET?!

She could not hold out any longer against such things- Christine closed her eyes, removing all their leering faces from sight, escaping to that dark world of nothing behind her eyelids that only she could reach- that was something odd about her; her apparent love of the dark. It was odd because she distinctly remembered being scared of the dark as a child, to such an extent that if she ever woke in the middle of the night she could not help but scream out for her father. The shadows, the lack of light, the mysterious aura- it had all terrified her. But now she found that darkness, and night time, soothed her and calmed her. It felt sometimes as if darkness were an old friend, waiting with warm open arms for her to sneak in and just fall back into the gorgeous world of peace, quiet and nothing. Just the darkness behind her eyelids was enough to calm her- Christine knew that darkness must have changed for her at some point in the years she could not recall; it must have ceased to be scary, instead becoming something she wanted. Someone must have caused that change, but Christine of course had no idea as to who would make her fall in love with the dark and all its mystery.

No matter how soothing closing her eyes was, Christine was still helpless in that she could still hear them and their disgusting conversations, even if she could no longer see their claw-like hands and the leering eyes. Her ears burned with the pure indecency of what she was forced to listen to- how they joked and laughed, how they made those repulsive comments, how they assessed her and speculated about disgusting things; to hear bets made about how good she would be in bed made Christine want to die. Their intentions were obvious even to a fool like her; they delighted over how pure and innocent she was, as if trying to sell her to Emilian by pointing out all that was good about her, and as they again mentioned that she was still untouched Christine gagged and had to open her eyes to show them that she was going to be sick. They all laughed as she burned with the shame of it.

Oh God Erik, please hurry up, she thought wildly- I don't know how much more I can stand of this!

Her dependence and faith in Erik, the man who had singlehandedly restored hope and happiness to her otherwise miserable existence, was unshakeable and resolute. There was not a part of her, not even a pessimistic voice in the back of her mind, that doubted whether he would come charging in to save her, to demand that this beast unhand her, like some sort of knight from a fairytale. She also knew that Pali was equally certain of Erik and so she was sure that Pali must have fled to fetch Erik.

And that was where Christine's pain had truly begun. She was certain of Erik, sure of him, no doubt at all. So when Emilian began to walk onwards through the crowd, leading her beside him, and she saw Pali waiting on the fringes of the group but without the tall, mysterious man she felt bound to, she felt her heart instantaneously freeze and shatter inside her chest. She kept staring at Pali, at the space where Erik should have been, and she narrowed her eyes as if staring at that empty place for long enough would suddenly clear this illusion and he would be standing there. But there was only Pali, looking wretched, and Christine could not comprehend it. It was as if the world no longer was the same.

She stumbled, walking with no reason or guide, her vision clouded by the curtain of self piteous and foolish tears that collected there for a moment, burning, before spilling down her cheeks. She did not know what to think in that moment of horror- could Adriana and her crones be right about all men and gypsy women? Could it be that all Erik had really intended was to lure her in, and now that there was an obstruction he was fed up of her? It suddenly dawned on Christine how very little she knew about Erik really- how stupid she had been to pin such delicate hopes on a man she knew no better than any other drunkard or beggar that populated this complete sham of a gypsy tribe.

She fell like a stone as she stumbled again, slipping out of Emilian's grip and tumbling to the ground, cutting her hands and knees and bowing her head as pain sang it's jubilant, evil tune all through her veins, creeping into her ears and down her spine, gripping her and holding her in place and making her clench her jaw as Emilian halted, looked down at where she was sprawled, and laughed.

"Ah now, my pretty one." He said softly, his hands lingering on her shoulders as he slowly helped her up, tracing small circles on the skin exposed by her slipping dress collar. She shuddered and tried to flinch away from him, and he gripped her in place. "Now, now, you don't want to upset me, my little demon. Believe me when I say that, if nothing else."

"Get your hands off of me." She hissed at him, this time pulling away with considerably more force so that she actually managed to get free of him. She ignored the few gasps that escaped from the watching gypsies, as well as the stares of morbid curiosity. They watched her and Emilian in the way you might watch a bear being prodded with a stick at the fair- enjoying the thrill of the test, wondering how much taunting and teasing it would endure before biting. Christine had endured enough, but as with the barbaric spectacles in which the animal suffered such torture, Emilian was not pleased to have lost control. He pulled her back towards him, sharply.

"Do as I say." He said coldly. "I don't want to have to hurt you, my angel."

Angel. The word seemed so bright, so shining, so wonderful. Christine went tense as soon as she heard him say it, not knowing why but feeling overcome by it- it was just a word, a word she had heard countless times before, but this time it caused her to freeze up as she felt something so wonderful yet frightening rip through her body. She could hear it, whispered in her ear, the awed voice of a small child saying that word, angel, a lonely child calling out, searching, reaching-

And then she was reaching out with her real hands into the real air, and before she could respond to her instinctive thought of 'no!' her hand had leapt out before her, as if not in her control anymore, and slapped the evil eyed man across his leathery cheek with all the strength she possessed.

"Does she possess no sense whatsoever?" Adriana murmured from the sidelines. The words, however vicious in meaning, came out terrified and she gave Christine a wild eyed look before seizing the other clan women and hurrying away with them. Christine trembled, left with only a circle of gypsy men surrounding her.

Emilian stood frozen for a second, the realisation of what she had just done dawning on him. Then, with a feral snarl, he gripped her hair in his fist and raised the other hand to strike her with all his might and send her sprawling back on the ground. But Pali, desperate Pali who had been watching in horror and not knowing what to do or when to act, leapt out in front of Christine and shoved Emilian away from her. He was trembling in fear as he did it, yet sincere. Christine fell to her knees as if the blow really had hit her, unable to move- her gaze, like every other spectator, was not focused on the enraged Emilian and poor, poor Pali.

"Emilian, my leader-"

"Pali!" was the roared response as Emilian sent the full force of his fist into Pali's face. Pali, astonishingly, managed to stay upright but a groan escaped his shaking mouth and his hands flew to his face; they were trembling so violently it looked as though he were having a fit. "You dare to call me your leader as you are content to let this girl, this slave wretch, strike me? Slaves do not touch their masters Pali- if they do, they are punished!"

"No, please Emilian, I beg of you, no!" Pali sounded defeated and he stepped forward and collapsed to his knees to grovel at Emilian's feet, as if pledging loyalty when in fact it was more likely to be the pain of such a blow that rendered him unable to stand. "This girl, this girl is- I have taken her as my mistress. She is very ill, so terribly ill- she sees things that are not really there, falling into wild rages and panic so that she lashes out as she just did! It is an illness, my master and leader, I promise you this, I swear it! I beg of you, let me take her from the clan to obtain her medicine so that she might be cured."

Christine felt shock explode her out of her numb state; Pali had crafted such an elaborate lie, suffered a beating, all to save her?! Her face smouldered as the gypsy men looked at her with astonished eyes, and she wanted to defend herself and her honour, but she knew it was better to be thought of as a prostitute than be beaten to death by madman Emilian.

Emilian was laughing before Pali had even finished, a raucous sound, and Christine felt a sick twist in her stomach as the laughter suddenly died and Emilian set upon Pali again with his fists, making the gypsy at his feet cry out.

"So she is your whore, eh?" Emilian spat, finally relenting and wrenching Pali to his feet, sneering at the blood covered man and turning to all the others who now stood frozen like sculptures, unable to do anything but watch. "I thought you said she was untouched?"

"Emilian. I need to take her away from here to obtain the treatment." Pali was bravely clinging onto his lie, wiping away the blood on his face as he looked entreatingly up at his gypsy master. Christine wished that Erik were here- why had he not come to help her?! "You may have her as soon as we return, as soon as she is cured. She will be yours."

"You may leave, Pali." Emilian said in a thoughtful voice, reaching out to wipe some blood away from Pali's face with an odd affectionate look in his eyes. Christine looked on in horror- he really was a madman, his mood changing one moment to the next without a second's warning. He then made his way over to her, kneeling beside her and touching her face with a gentle hand, his perceptive eyes sweeping over her with concern. She shivered and refused to meet his gaze. "But I will not let Christine leave."

Pali looked helplessly at her.

"But-"

"No, Pali. This poor, wretched young girl who we rescued from death is our prize, far too important to everything to risk losing her. We need her, Pali. It was by a stroke of luck that we got her-" Emilian's hands went to a scar at his mauled neck, like a jagged crest that he was proud of, "- and I cannot let go of this golden opportunity. Her voice alone is a prize to possess, but her past is another matter altogether. I am not such a fool that I would let her slip away."

Christine could not help but focus on the mention of her past- this Emilian appeared to know something about her, something important she decided, and she struggled to sit up and face him where he knelt beside her, trying to convince him that she was willing and docile again. She knew, with a blinding certainty, that she would be willing to endure anything at all so long as he told her who she was.

"Monsieur, Monsieur please." She begged in an urgent voice, making his eyes lock onto hers. In a moment of desperation, she reached for his hands and clutched them in her own. "I will do anything, anything you ask, if only you will tell me my past. If you know something about me, Monsieur, I beg of you to tell me." She glanced at Pali, and saw that he looked as if he might leap over and slam his hand against her mouth before she said something she would regret, signing her freedom away. But Pali didn't know what it felt like to be a stranger in your own life. "I will do anything, Monsieur. Anything at all."

"You mean to say that you are completely unable to recall your past?" Emilian helped her to her feet, his voice gentle now. Christine felt that sensation of dread twist inside her, and she was aware that she was blindly hurtling into something she would likely regret, but she couldn't lose such a chance as this.

"I have only vague shadows of memories from my earliest years, Monsieur. Nothing more than my seventh birthday." She spoke honestly, and the other gypsies suddenly looked a mix between shocked and pitying of her. But Christine did not care about any of them- she only cared to hear what Emilian would say, and fear prickled her heart as he suddenly smiled broadly at her, his eyes hardening like ice setting over a pond in winter. "I am...I am blind to my past, Monsieur."

Emilian burst into jubilant laughter.

"That is- that is excellent! I did wonder why you reacted as you did in the woodland- now it all makes sense! Oh Mademoiselle Daae, you truly have made things perfect!" he laughed madly, seeing her outraged expression and simply laughing harder. "Oh hush, my little vixen, don't turn those sorrowful eyes onto me! Trust me, I am doing you an immense favour, for even if I did share with you the sketchy details I know of your life, you would never believe me. They are somewhat...remarkable. Besides, dear Christine Daae, everything will be so much safer, so much easier for you, if you are ignorant."

"What does that mean?!" she demanded tearfully.

"Oh, I dare not elaborate my dear, now that things have turned out so perfectly!" he crowed. "But I will tell you this- you seem to have made a habit of being taken and held against your will."

That night, Christine had lain awake in her tent, sobbing into the thick mass of her curls as she was bombarded over and over by the horror of her nightmares, the confusion regarding Emilian's terrifying words and most of all the heart ache that speared her every time she wondered why Erik had not come to save her.

Thus, many people awoke to pain the next morning- Pali nursing a bloody bruised face and sore ribs, Nadir not daring to sleep but sitting as an anxious guard over Erik, Erik still knocked out cold due to his head injury and Christine feeling as if her heart had broken.

But as Christine silently fell back into the daily chores of sewing and cooking with all the other women, and as Pali tried to ease himself up and out of the stuffy tent despite his dreadful injuries, Nadir was stuck in his state of unease as Erik was still unconscious. He both anticipated and feared Erik's waking up from this unwanted slumber, as he knew with a certainty that could not be avoided that he was sure to suffer an onslaught of verbal and physical abuse for this even though he was innocent. But Erik would have to wake up at some point, and Nadir was fed up of this tortuous waiting game.

The suspense that hung over him like a fog soon became too much to bear alone in the silence, so he forced himself up from his seat upon the log and took a bucket to the tiny woodland stream Pali had made him aware of yesterday, after they had dragged their possessions and Erik out here. He filled the bucket up with ice cold water and then- in gesture he had wanted to do for a long time, but soon regretted- he tipped this freezing water straight over Erik.

Erik had been dreaming before this rude awakening. In this lapse of reality in his subconscious state, he was dozing in his lair bellow of the Opera Populaire, deciding whether he should go and terrorise a diva, compose an opera or take the delighted Christine out for a walk. Unsurprisingly, his dream self chose to take Christine out, and he had just been dreaming that she had kissed him standing on a bridge over the Seine when the ice cold water hit his face and the bridge crumbled under his feet, making him believe in blind panic that he was dying.

He leapt up from the ground, his face drained of all colour and resembling a corpse more than ever, and his hands reached out to find the first object they came across to grip onto as his thumping heart at last began to slow- the anger trebled and escalated to volcanic proportions as he realised that what he had gripped onto was a now very uncomfortable looking Nadir. Erik took a deep breath and looked around, taking in where they were- in the middle of an unrecognisable part of some dense woodland it seemed- and then he slowly reached behind him to feel the back of his head which was throbbing dully. As his skeletal fingers gently probed his aching skull, it suddenly all came flooding back and he rounded on the Persian with a spectacularly ferocious snarl.

"What the devil did you and that scheming Pali do to me?!" he roared, dragging the Persian around by the collar, before actually going to far as to pound him round the head. "WHERE ARE WE, NADIR?! AND WHERE IS CHRISTINE?!"

Nadir struggled valiantly to free himself even though he knew, from countless years of experience, that it was no good. Erik had strength that he could not overcome, and when he was angry, that strength became inhuman. When Christine was concerned- Nadir gulped. It did not bear thinking about.

"Listen, Erik, I know that you're angry and in truth I think that you have every right to be after what happened-"

"Khan stop avoiding the questions and ANSWER ME!"

"Pali did not consult me about any of this- I was just as surprised as you when he hit you with that gun and then suggested that we move all our things away from the camp."

"Not as surprised as I was Khan, believe me. That fool could have killed me!"

Nadir gave an irritable sigh and ceased wriggling. Erik gave an angry sigh and released the Persian from his grip, so Nadir fell to the floor in a dishevelled, crumpled heap with a seething red breaking out on his face as he hit the ground with a considerable bump.

"As always, you're rather missing the point, Erik." He complained bitterly as he struggled to stand up. "Pali only did that to protect you from your own hysterical, haphazard ways. If you hadn't been knocked out, and had gone striding in there and tried to seize Christine, Emilian would have seen you, recognised you and killed you. Or perhaps he would have killed her, or Pali, or me and then killed you. Whatever the outcome, it was never going to be good."

"Khan, I think you're rather missing my point." Erik argued back fiercely. "I can't bear the thought of losing her again, not after all we went through. And I made her a promise- if I do as Pali wants, and leave the clan and Christine, then she will think I never meant what I said and she will imagine that I never cared, that I left her! She would hate me."

"You could die, Erik, remember that!"

"And, Khan? Who would really care that I was dead? I certainly wouldn't." He snorted in such a casual manner it made Nadir want to bash his head against a brick wall- Erik's familiarity with death was not normal, and it terrified Nadir to think that his friend had no concern for his own safety. Erik might not care if he died, but Nadir cared about his friend and didn't want such a wasteful, terrible thing to occur. "Anyway, it makes no difference what you say. You're not my guard, Nadir. I'm going to go and get Christine from that evil camp, whether Javert's beastly offspring is present or not, and you can come with me and try to save me from killing myself or you can wait here and cower in the trees."

With that said, before Nadir could even try to half heartedly stop him, Erik strode off in the direction of the camp, his murderous scowl plaguing his features. Nadir watched him go for a second, before sighing and muttering curses under his breath as he ran after his stubborn, idiot of a friend, tripping several times on the tree roots and mossy trunks that seemed to silently laugh at his incompetence.

Erik and Nadir- the former irate and looking murderous, the latter exasperated and gasping for breath in an exceedingly unattractive manner- soon reached the thicket near to the edge of the gypsy camp. The tall, leafy shrubs and dense tree coverage allowed them to crouch down amongst the foliage and hide, utterly concealed from sight, leaving Nadir wondering what Erik actually intended to achieve by hiding in the bushes. He was about to say such a thing, but then a shrub near to them rustled and Erik immediately dug his elbow harshly into Nadir's ribs.

"What was that for, Erik?!" he protested bitterly, exaggerating the pain as he winced and rubbed the soft spot with an accusing glare.

"You deserve it! Stop rustling the bushes, Khan, you're infuriating!" Erik hissed back, turning to peer back at the array of coloured tents. That same bush rustled again and Nadir froze as Erik gave another irritated sigh. "Stop it Khan! Your bulbous backside is going to ruin our hidden spot!"

"Erik." Nadir said in a slow, hollow voice. "That wasn't me."

Erik froze and turned sharply, his expression telling Nadir that he didn't believe him. But then the bush rustled again, louder this time, and Erik's gaze fixed onto it. Nadir frowned, not sure what Erik intended to do about it, but feeling the familiar twinge of unease in his stomach that he often experienced when Erik did something stupid. He glanced at his friend, who was now getting up and silently treading the sodden leafy carpet of the woodland floor towards the offending shrubbery. Nadir opened his mouth, intending to suggest that they move back into the trees and avoid confrontation if there really was someone else hiding in these bushes, but Erik turned back and slammed a hand over Nadir's mouth before he could speak. Erik was only a step away from the rustling bush, and he took his final step.

He spied a flash of colour, and suddenly he darted into the foliage with the speed and precision of a snake, striking and dragging someone out as they thrashed and struggled and fought to be free. Erik yanked this person out of the leaves and into the woodland, immediately tossing him down deeper into the woods to avoid the commotion being seen or heard by the nearby gypsy camp.

Nadir still could not see the person, and Erik was still dragging him along. The person, a man it turned out, began to speak in a pathetic, begging plea.

"Please, I meant you no harm- I wasn't going to intrude on your camp, please believe me! Please let me go!"

Erik froze and Nadir gasped as his face contorted with absolute fury, and he suddenly picked the man up only to throw him roughly to the floor again, sending the full force of his foot into the man's side as he cowered and whimpered on the floor. Erik gave a hiss of seething rage, and Nadir dove at him, intending to pull him back and end this madness that made no sense. But when he got closer, and he saw the wretch on the floor, he froze and gazed down upon him in complete horror.

For the wretch whom they had dragged from the bushes was actually a fop- a fop by the name of Vicomte Raoul de Chagny.