Disclaimer: I am neither Andrew Lloyd Webber nor Gaston Leroux.
Author Note: Hello all! Sorry it's been a while- for some apparently unexplained reason, I have been really busy so there was no time to upload a chapter. But here it is (at last)!
Thank you so much to those who reviewed the last chapter; Kitkat, Filhound, MarilynKC, Billy4Me and TMara. Your comments are always so lovely to receive *big smile*
Well, there is nothing more to say, other than over to Erik for the chapter...or should that be over to Nadir?
Thirteen- Fragments of a Plan
It was a sad, but unhappily typical, fact that the real bed with its thick woollen blankets and the hearty food served to them at the inn was utterly wasted on Erik. The inn was a lovely little establishment; warm and cosy, with roaring fires and obliging staff who didn't hover irritatingly, and last night when Raoul and Nadir had become completely inebriated on the good wine and the dizzying comforts of warmth and delicious food, the pair of them had wittered on to the inn keeper, slurring as they bestowed their clumsy praise. It wasn't that Erik didn't appreciate the miraculous comforts they were savouring after so long spent enduring conditions close to the worst imaginable- even if it was the charity of the holier than thou Vicomte, Erik was more than happy to praise it all. But no matter how he tried- no matter how much Nadir whinged at him, or Raoul timidly encouraged him- Erik was simply not in a frame of mind that allowed him to enjoy himself. In fact, he found it a little more than irritating that the other two could lose themselves so easily over a fire, an armchair and a glass or two of alcohol.
The hysteria and the pure of shock of the meeting and the conversation (if you could really call it something so civil, after all the bruises and bloodshed he had no doubt inflicted as well as the screaming) he had gone through yesterday, as well as the thumping, merciless claws of a headache banging at his temples, rendered him immobile and retching over a bucket- a complete waste of the good food and wine that he had somehow managed to force down his protesting gullet. When night came, and with it the odd sensations of peace and protection from the elements that he had not felt in a long time, he could not physically calm himself enough to be able to place his head on the pillow and fall into the endless void of sleep.
It wasn't just the hysteria that made him so restless, although that did play a huge part in this self inflicted mess. As soon as the conversation in the courtyard yesterday had ended, and Raoul had headed inside to arrange the rooms and meals for their stay- as well as to wipe the blood and tears from his face, no doubt- Erik had broken down again into sobs, completely inconsolable until Nadir spoke some soft, soothing words and forced him to take a herbal extract that would calm him down. It hadn't worked, but the hysteria had ended once he became too exhausted to rage at himself anymore. It had left him drifting and pacing listlessly, unable to think of anything else, unable to settle.
But no, it was more the work of his own mind that made him so anxious and agitated. All he could think of as he entered the pleasant room and stared at the awaiting bed, a promise of comfort and warmth in the invitingly turned back covers, was that Christine would not be sleeping in a bed tonight. She would be experiencing none of the comforts that Raoul had granted them- she would be scared and angry as she lay in one of the raggedy tents, furious with him for letting her down, for so cruelly breaking a promise that had filled her eyes with light and optimism after over a year of crying and trying to come to terms with her horrific existence. Erik's own mind seemed to be against him, conjuring up the very images he didn't want to see- he knew, deep inside, that Christine was bound to take his sudden and unexplained absence to mean that he had gone against his word and fled, but that didn't mean he wanted to torture himself thinking about it!
After those thoughts and images had entered his mind, the bridge was burnt. There would be no sleep, not when he could so vividly picture her hurt, her anger, her suffering. So instead of trying and failing to sleep, he drew up a chair close to the window and sat watching the moon and the spread of pearlescent stars that winked kindly down upon him. Everything was so peaceful, so modestly beautiful, when bathed in moonlight. It wasn't so bright you could barely look upon it, or so gaudy and ostentatious that you were wound into idiotic excitement. It was simple and silently stunning, and Erik found that watching the milky light and the shadows pass over the rolling landscape beyond gave him comfort that he knew he could find nowhere else.
When morning came at last, heralded by faint trills of bird song and the sun just peeping eagerly over the horizon, breaking Erik's night time peace as orange and yellow spread like water in cloth over his velvet skies, he turned and left the window to go and meet Nadir and his other... "companion". He was honestly surprised that, upon entering the bar and seeing them sat at the table, the other two were both as dishevelled and exhausted as he. Perhaps alcohol and good food had offered only a brief escape for them.
It didn't give Erik comfort as such, to see Raoul slumped exhaustedly his fatigued state with a pained expression that could only come from a hangover, but it did remind him with a bittersweet pang that in these current circumstances he and the handsome, wealthy rival were on an equal playing field. There would be no hidden, devilishly cunning tactics; this was open and straight out war, and as Erik let his eyes linger on Raoul- who was now admiring the dawn from the nearby open window- he knew that neither of them would relent in their fight for the woman they both wanted. The battle should have ended in Paris, but even if it had, Erik knew that neither of them could claim complete victory. Christine had, unintentionally, left a very muddled situation in her wake and it meant that neither of them truly knew where they stood in terms of her favour- she had been engaged to be married to Raoul, but she had given Erik a declaration- and kiss, in front of hundreds of strangers- of undying love and devotion. If you took the details literally, it would suggest that Christine desperately loved them both, a conclusion that neither of them was willing to accept. So this was destined to be the final round, and- Erik could not help but shudder to consider it- there was no way of knowing who would win and who would fall back into dejected solitude.
Erik had told himself earlier, in the gloom of the early hours, that he was in a far better position than Raoul, for he had Nadir as a friend and loyal aid in this fight, but as he stood at the far end of the bar and jealously watched the Persian and the Vicomte talk animatedly together he found himself fearing a loss of a companion too, as well as the love of his pathetic existence. He was being childish in his needy worries- Nadir had endured all sorts of hardships by Erik's side, and he had always been unwavering in his loyalty and friendship. Nadir had once told him, whilst cursing him for getting them into another mess and being unnecessarily angry, that the fact they weren't scared to hurl abuse at each other and constantly criticise one another meant that theirs was a friendship stronger than any other, for they knew they could be honest and it would only ever risk annoyance and violence, not dissolution.
Erik doubted the theory- it sounded like something he might dream up, to make allowances for his temper and his habit of using Nadir as a verbal punch bag. But it did make him feel secure in the knowledge that Nadir was his friend, through the good and the bad, and he tried to tell himself this as he watched the scene across the room. With a firm resolve to be calm and dignified for once in his often raging existence, he lifted his head a little and strode purposefully across the sunlit bar, joining Nadir and Raoul amid a discussion he could not quite believe was actually happening.
"-so of course I tried to persuade him to do anything but go there, to Paris, where the people would be notoriously less accepting." Nadir was explaining in hushed tones to a fascinated Raoul, who was listening intently, his face a mask of- Erik ground his teeth together as he felt his blood boil. The last thing he wanted to see was Raoul de Chagny pitying him, and belittling his existence by doing so! "But he was desperate; he said he wanted to leave behind all the horrific events of the Orient and instead create beauty to make up for all his cruelties, his evil. And in Paris he did find some solace, I suppose- he had me, and Madame Giry, and the peace to create music and beauty undisturbed. But he wasn't happy, Vicomte. He has never been happy with anyone but Christine."
Erik chose that moment to bring his hand clamping down on Nadir's shoulder, making the Persian jump and curse as he turned and saw Erik, his eyes suddenly wide and bulging as if silently asking him how long he had been stood there, listening to the private details of his less than savoury life discussed as if they were the events of some tragic opera rather than reality!
"Erik-" Nadir said weakly, and Raoul instantly looked away, as if trying to distance himself from the wrath and the awkward conversation. Erik wanted to shake him by the shoulders for that act, so cowardly and pathetic. Nadir looked uneasy, but after seeing Raoul behave so irritatingly, Erik's anger towards the Persian had subsided. "I was-"
"It doesn't matter, Khan." He cut him off abruptly, still very conscious that Raoul was hovering like a bad smell, not even a metre away. "I'm tired of being stuck in this infuriating limbo- I want to hear this plan of yours and start acting as soon as possible. But I also want to get out of here, out of this stifling place. I don't want to remain festering in here like a useless blockhead any longer."
Nadir knew exactly what Erik wanted, and why he wanted it. He wanted to be out of the inn, away from the place he had been presented with the hideous truth about Christine's predicament and the place he had spent a sleepless night fretting and working himself into a frenzy. He wanted to talk about the plan to free her in a completely different location, so that the optimism of such a thing wouldn't be tainted by the lingering sense of melancholy hopelessness that hung in the air now. He was about to agree to this rudely spoken demand, already reaching out to pat his friend's arm in the hope of instilling unspoken comfort, but Raoul butted in with his usual tactless, eager to please manner. He gave the Vicomte a withering look, hoping to deter him, but Raoul thundered on, oblivious.
"I've some horses stabled here- we could ride out somewhere, if you like." He offered brightly but nervously, still unable to mask that timid streak. His eyes were wide, pitying and patronising so that when Erik looked at him, he rounded on him with his own yellow orbs blazing, batting the grumpily objecting Nadir aside.
"Look, Vicomte, I do not know what details of my less than appealing past Nadir has...made you aware of, but I do not want you to tip toe around me with such a pitiful, pathetic and highly irritating expression all the time!" he hissed, hoping that his ferocious outburst would replace some of the fops pity with anger or repulsion instead. Those hateful emotions were so much easier to react to, seeing as he had a lifetimes worth of experience. Pity was so rarely bestowed upon him, he still found it unnerving and was wary of it. "It's true that my past is an ugly and unfortunate one on many counts, but I do not need people pitying me for it. I have done plenty of awful things and I do not wish them to be overlooked or even excused by patronising bigots!"
"I'm sorry you feel that I was pitying you Erik, but I-" Raoul began to speak, but Erik gasped and felt his whole body lurch and seize up as he realised that his name had just been spoken by his rival, his arch enemy so to speak, and yet there was not a hint of anger within the word. He said his name as if they were friendly, as if he were talking to another normal man, as if he had the right to- to-
Raoul had frozen in his speech, astonished by the facial expression Erik was pulling.
"What is it?" he asked, like a dumb fool, and Nadir shook his head and almost growled in exasperation as Erik- who had never even sat down at the table- turned on his heel and stormed out.
He looked at Raoul, who was watching Erik stride across the bar and then slam the door as he angrily left with a blur of real confusion in his oddly youthful and ignorant gaze. Nadir had long forgotten what it felt like to be so young and so innocent of all life's problems and oddities, so he could do little more than pat the Vicomte's shoulder once before gesturing that they head out towards the stables and, hopefully, to where they would find Erik pacing all his anger, torment and- Nadir felt ancient with sadness to think it- unnerved surprise at being treated as an equal away into the clear breeze.
That same clear breeze was singing its way through the whole of the landscape, including through the labyrinth of coloured, lopsided tents that made up the gypsy clan. Deep within the camp, which had been unusually subdued due to the confusion and anger that seemed to come down upon them with the arrival of their old master, in a tent that never changed and in a manner that never ceased to terrify her, Christine Daae shot up from the floor and from sleep, screaming and sweating and in a blind panic as she frantically peered about her. Her eyes were wide and unearthly on her bone white face, her hair clinging to her flushed face as she took deep ragged gasps of air and tried to make the cool swirling sensation in her lungs calm her down. But it never worked- it never had, and it never would. She was useless, so utterly and pathetically useless...
It was just a dream, she told herself sternly, before dissolving into frightening tears that awoke the woman sleeping across the tent from her- Pali's wife (Christine had assumed they were married, but knowing nothing of the gypsy culture she couldn't confirm this) who was a caring woman called Rose, whose astonishingly sweet nature befitted her name. Her presence in the tent was a reminder of what Pali had somehow managed to do for her- Emilian, insanely, had ordered that Christine was to be kept under constant supervision, but marvellous Pali had somehow managed to get the barbarian to allow her to sleep in his tent, with him and Rose. Christine knew that it had only been allowed due to the lie that she was Pali's mistress, the assumptions being that Christine wouldn't just be sleeping when she was spending her nights in this tent, but she could endure those assumptions. Whilst it wasn't exactly freedom, the company of loveable Pali and motherly Rose was far preferable to the evil eyed men who had been watching over her as she slept before. With those brutes she had barely slept, always scared that they might do something to her whilst she was vulnerable, but with Pali there were so such worries.
"Christine?" Rose asked in a sleepy voice, for it was only just dawn and normally she did not rise for at least another hour. She sat up on the blankets that made her bed on the floor, and reached out to hold Christine's arm in an attempt to soothe her. "My dear girl, whatever is the matter?"
Christine shook her head and buried her wet face within her hands, at that moment feeling far too weak and oddly fragile to pick herself up and get on with things as she had always forced herself to do before. Her nightmare had evolved, changing from that previous horror of darkness and the man's voice distorted by tears that was as mysterious as it was terrifying- Emilian, however, did not feature at all. It was the same voice, and the same darkness, and the same awful feeling of fear and guilt and uncertainty as she cowered from the strangled howls of rage and distress in the darkness, but there was more. Now, for some reason she felt as if she was being dragged away from the voice, dragged and manhandled and dumped by rough hands. For some insane reason, she had felt as if she were trapped on a boat or something that bobbed on the water, for as she had lain trapped in the darkness, unable to move or escape back to the crying voice, she had felt the sensations of water beneath her. And that was the horrifying part- in this nightmare she was trapped and unable to do what she knew she must, left only to sail away into oblivion as she heard raucous laughter and heartbreaking sobs echoing around her and the infinite darkness.
And, to make her turmoil even worse, there was still no sign of Erik. Adriana had been horribly right- it would seem that all men, even the ones who made you think they were kind and gifted and almost unearthly, were the same if you were a ragged tramp in a gypsy clan. And now she would never be anything but a ragged tramp in a gypsy clan.
"Come, child, you need not cry. I'll not let Emilian get to you, and neither will Pali. It would seem he had managed to calm our raving master, so you're safe." The woman soothed in that motherly voice, stroking her matted curls and pushing them back from her face as Christine lifted her head to thank her. "Oh, my dear child. It breaks my heart to see you so upset. I can't help but wonder why you're here, if you loathe this way of life so very much."
"Emilian...he's made it clear, he won't let me go. Those men watch me all the time, and all those things he said to me...he knows something about me, Rose, and it frightens me! I have no idea what he wants with me." Christine answered in a shaking voice.
"It's true that he is a beast, and a manipulative one at that. And yes, it's true, that he seems to have it into his evil mind that you must remain here. But what I meant, dear child, is why didn't you leave before?" Rose asked gently, probing for details in as nice a way anyone ever could, but it still hurt as Christine asked herself the same thing, thinking that if she had she wouldn't be in such a dreadful mess. "No-one else is quite like Emilian- you would have been able to go. We wouldn't have been able to stop you."
"But I can't remember anything about my past, about who I am. If I had left, I wouldn't have had anywhere to go." She whispered.
"But what of that tall man, the one whose face always seemed a little odd? You like him, don't you? You spent enough time with him. You could have gone off somewhere with him, heaven knows where." Rose continued to probe, oblivious to what her words were doing to Christine's heart, which now felt cold and dead inside her.
You like him, don't you? Christine could have laughed at the words- they made her relationship with Erik sound mundane, trivial, perhaps a friendship at best. What she felt for him was far deeper, far greater than that, and she placed her hands to the ache in her heart and wondered why she felt so utterly heartbroken when she had no reason to feel like that. Nothing had ever been spoken of romance, of love. But still, she felt the ache as if she had been ripped away from the love of her life.
"Adriana told me something- that men will only see me as a cheap whore. I didn't want to believe her, ever, but now I do." Christine willed the other woman to get angry or object wildly to the hopeless words, as she had come to expect from kind people who lied to protect you from the truth you had accepted at last. "And isn't that true, Rose? Because yes, I do like Erik. What I feel for him is...is...well, I don't honestly know what it is. But I thought that he felt for me as I did for him- that he cared about me. He promised that he would take me to Paris, told me he wanted to free me from a place that I felt trapped within! I believed him, every word, and now he is gone and Emilian is here and I am trapped again, only this time with no hope of being free!"
Rose looked at Christine with a stern expression. In her eyes was a look of fierce determination and a motherly devotion, a look that reminded her of someone- someone she clearly no longer recalled, or could name, so there was little point in trying to piece together some comforting comparison. But it was still there, unnerving her, and for some reason she felt that this someone she could not recall had been some sort of teacher to her...she could almost hear the sharp instruction in her head, no nonsense but loving... She shook her head, feeling silly for even thinking it- she must be dreaming up memories, or rather fragments of memories, to comfort herself.
"Christine Daae, I never thought of you as weak before, but now I see that beneath your pretty face and those eyes that might convince others that you are strong and brave, you are terrified and lost and that makes you weaker than you should be. You are afraid of so much, of being on your own, that you have no idea what you want- you rely on others for direction, for strength." Rose finally said, the words harsh yet almost as if they were meant to be, to shock her into changing her mindset. Like a kick start that would make her want to fight. Christine felt as if she should tell the woman that her efforts were wasted on such a hopeless individual as she. "Weakness like yours is a bad thing, Christine, and don't let any fanciful ideas tell you otherwise- some things are out of our control, but weakness is not one of them. Weakness can make us do awful things- such as choose the wrong path, hurt the feelings of others or perhaps wreak havoc if we hide from how we truly feel because we are scared of the truth. Your weakness will make you do things you will regret my dear, and those things could well ruin your life." Rose paused, her eyes hardening. "And if you want to believe Adriana, Christine, then go ahead- but do you not realise that you don't need to know who you were to decide who you will be? No-one knows their future, and you are just like everyone else, writing this future and your fate."
"But you know your past- you don't understand! To be without it is horrid and cruel and makes me feel vulnerable and alone!" Christine exclaimed, tears springing to her eyes again.
"Perhaps I am too harsh." Rose frowned. "But Christine, that is just another excuse. We all have our problems- crying and refusing to face the truth will get you nowhere, excuse or no excuse. You need to stop lamenting and start living- no excuses."
Rose got up and left the tent then, going to wash by the stream and begin the endless waiting tasks that demanded completion inside the camp. Once she had left, Christine went against everything Rose had told her and put her face in her hands again, sobbing until she had no more tears to cry.
Out of the camp, amongst the rolling greenery that was so dense in this part of the country, the horses belonging to Raoul de Chagny grazed lazily by the trees towards the edge of a clearing, where Erik left his mount at peace and walked towards the crest of the hill, standing at the very edge and simply staring out upon the world that lay before him, out of reach yet teasingly close, only allowing him to stand upon this grassy mound and watch wistfully. The sun was high in the cornflower blue sky, a shining golden light upon them and this lush landscape, drawing Erik's gaze out to the little cottages that were perched in the far distance, or to specks of white that were sheep grazing contentedly on a distant hillside. He had missed so much in his world underground, replacing the sun and sights like these for night time and music and dark, gothic splendour. Even when he stood bathed in warm light and drowning in the endless greenery- never had he been so bombarded by nature, and he knew he would never scorn those who marvelled at such landscapes again- he couldn't help but feel a stubborn pang for the familiar comfort of darkness and the thing that kept him alive, music. How he craved to feel the soft obliging keys of a piano under his desperate fingertips...
Nadir took him away from his trance at the crest of the hill, pulling him back towards the horses and the waiting, nervous figure of Raoul who still made Erik want to punch him with the way he incessantly fidgeted and kept glancing around him, perpetually nervous and awkward. Oh, what had Christine ever seen in him, this young fool whose actions closely resembled that of a rodent?
In fact, a rodent would be too intelligent an animal to compare him to. With a satisfied dark laugh, Erik concluded to himself that Raoul de Chagny was just like an earwig- dull and insignificant in every way, apart from when he was being annoying, in which case he became the most irritating thing alive and demanded to be stomped upon.
"We have indulged your need to escape the inn and civilisation altogether, Erik, so shall we at last have this discussion of forming a plan, based from my idea?" Nadir commented on Erik's impulsive demands in an indifferent voice, and thus avoided a well placed punch or kick. "Emilian- the clan leader, in case you have forgotten Raoul- is clearly a nasty piece of work. The fact that he has, from Pali's observations, taken some sort of liking to Christine can only spell trouble, given his nature and unpleasant heritage, and thus there is nothing for it- we must get her out of his reach as soon as we can."
"Forgive my interruption, Monsieur Khan, but how is it that you know all this, with such certainty?" Raoul asked timidly, again making Erik feel the need to punch him.
"When Erik was in the clan, as a child and a slave, he had one ally- a friend, who was a gypsy child his age." Nadir spoke calmly, not taking the time to ask Erik if he was entirely comfortable with such details being spoken about so readily with him, the repugnant fop. But Nadir had clearly already informed Raoul of all these grisly details, as the fop did not look at all confused by the mentions of Erik having been enslaved in the very clan Christine was now in. Did the Persian already trust Raoul so wholeheartedly- was their loyalty already so sound? Erik snarled a little, under his breath, and again found himself wondering why Raoul needed to know so much about him when it was Christine who was supposed to be the focus of their efforts. "That gypsy child is the Pali we speak of, now an adult in the clan. He warned us about Emilian, and told us all that had occurred so far between the barbarian and her. He will continue to keep us informed and to protect her whilst we are unable to do so."
Raoul nodded, and stole a sideways glance at Erik, who found himself rolling his eyes at the Vicomte's needy behaviour but forced himself to hold his tongue and prevent the various insults he had considered hurling at the idiot from spilling out. His own failed attempts at simply ignoring the Vicomte was becoming a sore point, something that aggravated him more than it should, and Erik wished with all his being that he could sit in some screened off area away from the young idiot, so as not to be infuriated to the point of violence by every stare, act or word. He simply had no tolerance of the man, still feeling awkward and- Erik shuddered to admit it even to himself- even a little 'shy' around the man, very aware of who he was, how much he hated him and that they should be duelling and screaming insults at each other, not forcing this uneasy cooperation.
"My idea is a simple one, and we will need vast amounts of further information before we set any definite details, but I believe that rather than storming in and challenging Emilian to his face, we should be cunning about it. We should steal Christine away from the clan and the gypsies, and do it in such a way that they don't even realise what has happened until it is far too late." Nadir paused, perhaps expecting praise. When he only received vacant and- from his biggest critic, Erik- unimpressed looks he continued huffily, his voice sharper and his face tinged red. "Think how you saved yourself and Christine the night of Don Juan, Erik- a trapdoor. Something so simple and obvious that no one expected it. The distraction of a chandelier fall helped of course, but it was the simplicity of the act that made it so successful."
Erik snorted loudly, gaining his former confidence as he settled back into a role he knew very well indeed- mocking and creating absolute mayhem for the disgruntled Nadir to contend with, awaiting amusing results. Raoul also smothered a laugh as Nadir raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.
"Yes, Erik?"
"Nadir, as ever, your plan is flawless apart from one tiny detail." Erik paused for dramatic effect- he was, after all, a composer and former opera house ghost. The dramatic ways were ingrained within in, running in his blood. "How exactly would we get to Christine? We can't open a trapdoor under her feet in the gypsy camp- before you dare say it, I REFUSE to tunnel underneath- and it still remains that I cannot be seen by Emilian. I presume, if the brute is as intelligent as he is evil, that if Emilian really does treasure Christine as the key to their successes and needs her for something, as the Vicomte explained yesterday, she won't be wandering freely around the camp. She'll be guarded, watched. It's rather difficult to infiltrate and steal someone who is under constant supervision."
"Remind me, why can't you be seen by Emilian?" Raoul asked, clearly still terrified to ask a question directly to Erik given his outburst earlier. Good, Erik thought menacingly, be scared you insolent pup.
"Because he is the son of my original tormentor, the beastly Javert. And from experience, people don't take too kindly to having their fathers murdered, especially by a little ugly slave boy in a cage, even if the murder was only committed to avoid torture and rape. At one word from Emilian, should he realise who I am, I would be set upon and no doubt torn to pieces- and, if they were feeling particularly generous, they might torture and kill yourself, or Christine, or Nadir just to make sure their bloodthirsty revenge quest is complete." Erik made the words into bullets, firing them coldly and at rapid speed until Raoul was reeling, stunned and a little hazy eyed. "So, my dear Daroga, you were explaining how your wonderful idea would work?"
Nadir saw Raoul smother another laugh at that last sarcastic comment, and felt pleased to note this, as opposed to angry. If the Vicomte was laughing at Erik's dark and insulting humour, it meant that he had started to understand his odd ways, which would imply that he was no longer judging him or just plain terrified of him- hopefully, Erik would follow suit and soon they would all be cooperating nicely in order for whatever plan they did decide upon to work.
"I can't be sure, as I need to ask Pali about the nature of Emilian, but I thought that my plan might work if we took Christine out of the clan- perhaps if a small theatre offered a large sum of money for her to perform there?" Nadir saw the sarcasm and scorn replaced by approval in Erik's eyes, and he felt a smile start to creep across his face. Erik nodded, gesturing that he should go on, this time with an interested look upon his face and he even leant forwards a little. "Using your wealth and social charms, Vicomte, we would find ourselves a small establishment that would be the setting for our plan. I would maybe act as a manager, convincing Emilian to take the offer, and Erik could then steal her away just as he did the night of Don Juan. She can't be guarded actually onstage- by the time the gypsies realise what has happened, she will be gone."
"I like this plan." Raoul nodded, a thoughtful smile starting to bloom. "As you describe, Monsieur Khan, it is so obvious that it will, in fact, be utterly unexpected at the time and thus will work brilliantly. We will steal her away when she is in plain sight, right in front of their faces."
Nadir seemed to straighten up and puff out his chest at Raoul's praise and approval, giving the Vicomte a look filled with new admiration and respect as they turned back to the horses and checked the tack, the day progressing and the new idea creating work to be done as soon as possible- there would be no more useless festering, as Erik had so delightfully put it. They would be productive and soon Christine would be out of that disgusting excuse for a gypsy clan.
"I still need to discuss matters with Pali- it is entirely possible that Emilian might never accept such a thing. Also, we will need to know where the clan intends to move to next- if the location is not appropriate to the plan, it will not work." Nadir said as they mounted the horses and began to ride back to the inn, this time all in a far better frame of mind.
For the duration of the ride, Erik thought the astonishingly good plan over in his sceptical mind, trying to think if there were any obvious things that could go wrong, other than what Nadir had already mentioned. He could not risk being seen by Emilian, and neither could Raoul for that matter, as the sight of them would raise suspicion and make the barbaric leader unlikely to accept any mysterious deals. But all problems and anxious pessimism aside, if they really could somehow get Christine into a venue of their choice and modification, the actual act of stealing her away would be almost stupidly easy. It would be relatively low risk, too- certainly less dangerous than simply waling into the clan and taking her.
When they did arrive back to the inn, Nadir straight away began to plan to leave for the clan so that he might talk the ideas over with Pali and ask him all the relevant questions. Erik decided that he ought to let his approval be known, and at last put forward the crucial request that would solve another one of his personal worries.
"Nadir, it is vital that you tell Pali to inform Christine of the whole occurrence- why we left her, what we are considering, that my offer of Paris still remains." Erik muttered the words in a low, urgent whisper, valiantly trying to keep Raoul from overhearing whilst also trying to convey the importance of this to Nadir- it was vital that she was aware of everything as it would aid their plans and would also be crucial to the bigger goal; returning her memories and happiness. "Also...tell her that I will try to arrange to meet her somehow, secretly."
"Erik is that really a good idea?" Nadir asked in a disapproving voice. "Even if there was a way...if you could somehow go at night to avoid being seen by the gypsies...if they did see, it would ruin everything. Is it truly worth it?"
"I can't afford to make Christine hate me now, Khan- I can't lose her again." He replied in a voice that left no room to argue. "It is vital Nadir. Ensure that Pali understands. And also...I need to keep seeing her, so that I am one step ahead of Raoul. I can't lose that fight, either. Don't let him know that I plan to see her."
When Nadir at last turned to leave, and Erik turned and went to go back into the inn, he saw that Raoul was stood there, an odd, slightly hurt expression on his face. His wide eyes, still so young and oddly vulnerable, told Erik that despite all his efforts Raoul had heard the whole thing.
Erik wasn't sure that it was possible to feel an ominous sense of dread that everything was about to start slipping through your fingers. But in that moment, looking at Raoul, he felt it. And he could do nothing, nothing at all, to stop it.