Chapter 3

Raoul's mouth seemed to be permanently hanging open with shock. Christine longed to place her hand gently under his chin and snap it shut, but instead she stared at him blankly.

"Christine…are you quite sure? Could you not of just been dreaming?" Raoul said, trying with great difficultly to register the information Christine had just poured out to him. He had been expecting a quiet afternoon with the girl he was swiftly falling deeper in love with, but Christine had arrived looking hurried and with the air of a person who carries a great burden. After sitting her in a comfortable chair he had questioned her and she had confessed the reason she had not appeared at supper the night before and also the reason that everyone was going frantic looking for the little blonde flower that was Meg Giry.

"My hands Raoul! They're grazed from when I was knocked down by Erik." She slipped her grazed hands through Raoul's and then held them up in front of his eyes. "But that's not all, I also must say goodbye for at least another night as I must return to Erik tonight." Raoul grasped Christine's hands between his own and clung to them as if he had to hold on to a piece of Christine to stop her disappearing that very moment. His hair hung in his eyes as he drew his head nearer to Christine's.

"Why? Surely you were lucky enough to get away this time?" he questioned with great urgency. Christine pulled her hands away and sat back, away from Raoul's pleading eyes.

"I have to get Meg back! You need not look at me like that, I don't want to go!" She said guiltily, feeling as if to return to Erik was to betray Raoul. Glancing at the clock tower that peeked over the roof of an aristocratic building and shone with the amber light of the sunset, she gasped and realised she had to get back to the opera house before darkness made travelling too dangerous. "Oh Raoul forgive me! I must go, I shall be back as quickly as time allows and I shan't do anything to make you doubt my love for you. Please believe me, oh I must go quickly!" With that, Christine through her arms around Raoul's neck and muffled her sobs with reluctant goodbyes.

- - - - -

Meg gave a cry of frustration when she awoke from what she guessed was an afternoon nap (being in a cave and having no natural light, she had no idea what time of day it was), just inside the door was a plate of food. She was so angry at herself, she had tried to feign sleep in order to catch the door open when the phantom put food in the room for her, but she had fallen asleep and missed him again.

The room she was imprisoned in was very boring, an iron bedstead, a writing desk, a vanity table (with no mirror, much to Meg's dismay) and a wash basin were all that the room contained and she found little to do but sleep. The phantom did not respond to her cries, he did not react when she cursed him loudly and he did not try to stop her when she had tried to kick down the door. She had not succeeded of course, ruined ballet shoes were not the perfect battering rams.

As she picked up the plate from the floor Meg noticed a letter that had been placed under it:

Dear Meg,

This is your home for now, with what you know it is not going to do me any favours to let you return to the opera house. I will provide you with food and clean clothes, the sink in the corner gives both cold and hot water. If there is anything in particular you require then write it on the back of this note with the ink and quill I have left on the writing desk. No hate letters please, they only bore me.

Your obedient servant

O.G.

Meg sighed. At least she wasn't going to starve, or have to stay forever in her already tattered ballet dress. She immediately wrote "a watch" on the back of the letter, and then with a flash of inspiration and a glance at the door she added "string".

- - - - - -

Christine had no problem making herself look unhappy, the tears from her meeting with Raoul had left their mark deep in her glittering eyes. Christine knew Erik could see grief from a mile off, he obviously knew it well, she hoped it would be a good enough excuse to explain her urge to see him. She would explain that Raoul was greatly angry at her, and that all that lay above ground seemed stained with a cold disappointment so she had chosen to disappear away for the night and let music free her from feeling. She had run it over so many times in her head she almost believed herself. Christine raised her head to the open window that allowed her to hear the chimes of the clock tower all the clearer. The chimes rang out through the crisp night air, ten of them….they seemed to trigger the voice that called to Christine through the shadows. Raising her head to the mirror, Christine abandoned all attempts at the truth and let the lie replace it, she rose and walked towards the mirror like a criminal condemned to death.

- - - - - -

"So, What is it that foolish child has done?" Erik said delicately, trying to slip his question into the conversation without disturbing it. He failed though.

"Oh Erik! I did not come here to be reminded of the thing I came here to forget!" Christine declared with a strict look at Erik, she felt she owed something to Raoul, his dignity at least. Every moment she lied stung her like a persistent horse fly. She pushed her lies from her mind and instead she focused on the reason she was there, to rescue Meg. Madame Giry had told her to wait until Erik was asleep, but it seemed that every moment Christine spent near him he became more and more awake. Currently, he was so awake he didn't seem to be able to sit still for a moment, he paced the lair like a caged and animal and constantly flipped the conversation back and forth, though it always seemed to end up hovering around the subject of Raoul. Warding Erik away from the reason of her visit was exhausting Christine and she came upon the idea that Erik couldn't question her if she was sleeping, though she didn't expect Erik would be doing getting any sleep in his current state.

"Erik, you tire me with your talk! Where will I be sleeping tonight?" At these words, Erik suddenly took on the appearance of a distraught child, his eyes looked as if they would grace his cheeks with tears at any moment, but he swallowed his tears and turned to Christine.

"Is it my talk that tires you? Well I am silent then! Not a word shall pass my lips if that is your wish." After the last word of that line Erik sat down with a thunk upon the nearest chair and stared and Christine blankly, he was acting so strangely Christine couldn't help but laugh. That heart broken face appeared again.

"Erik, I am sorry, you are acting in the queerest manner. Can you show me to my room please, I am sure it is quite late anyway?"

"One twenty two," He said emptily, without glancing at his watch. He then stood up and took Christine's hand. "This way then." He took her through the infinite corridors of his house, doors flashed past every which way. Christine tried to remember the way as she was pulled along, but the doors drifted in and out of her mind like the tide. Erik unlocked a door that was a dead end to one of the tunnels, it revealed a beautiful room. The flames of candles danced and cast shadows upon the smooth stone walls, etching out demons that recoiled and sprung on you depending on the stillness of the air. Incense burned gently in the corner, filling the room with glorious and rich fragrances that seemed to drag Christine's eyelids slowly downwards. Baskets of deep red roses stood proudly on night stands that flanked a welcoming bed. Foreign silks dressed the bed, beads and embroidery gleamed in the soft light like diamonds and teardrops, glistening so that it seemed the sheets were alive with a million tiny lights. Christine reached out to touch a rose, just to check that it was there and not the image of some astounding fantasy. Erik covered her hand gently with his own, and moved it away.

"Careful, I wouldn't want you to cut yourself. Those roses are beautiful, but they have sharp thorns," he spoke tenderly and Christine could not bring herself to argue, instead she turned towards Erik. His eyes were half closed, the incense was having the same effect upon him as it was on Christine. A thought struck Christine, if he could only get him to fall asleep on the bed, she would be free to search for Meg without interruption. But how on earth was she to get a man who never ate, slept or possessed any vaguely human properties to fall dead asleep? A thought crossed her mind, and it was so sinful of her that she pushed it swiftly out again, although she had not a doubt in her mind that it would work.