Disclaimer and A/N:I do not own Phantom of the Opera, as you already know. I would also like to say that I have included some history here, but as I have not yet read Susan Kay's novel (-gasp!-), nor have I finished Leroux's (-double gasp!-), it most likely won't be the same. Please try to overlook it! Thank you for your patience with me!

Chapter Thirty-Three

It had been five days since their romantic dinner at the church. Erik and Christine had seen each other every evening since then, spending much of their time with Father Michel, who had decided that it was high time to break open the bottle of wine that Erik had left him earlier in the week. They had also taken a ride or two around the city in the late evening. They snuggled together in the darkness of the cab, lost in each other's embrace, speaking of the future and marveling at God's goodness to both of them. During one of these occasions, Erik chose to divulge some details of his childhood to Christine. He told her about his mother's cruelty and abandonment, which led to his time with the gypsies, and about the abuses that he had endured at their hands. He told her of the nightmares that had plagued him for so long, and about God's mercy in bringing those nightmares to an end at last. Christine had responded lovingly and sympathetically, shedding many tears as he held her, revealing parts of himself that she had never known. She was even more certain of her love for him after that night, for she believed that no one else could have endured what he did and survive to become such a brilliantly talented and loving man. To her, he was a walking miracle and a true gift from God.

The Laurents had been quite surprised when Erik had regretfully declined their invitations to dinner each night, instead asking politely if he might borrow the carriage to take a trip into the city. The carriage had returned without him a few times, and he had been brought home by way of another cab. Madame Laurent had laughed when her husband grumbled about Erik's absence. "He has probably been visiting with Father Michel, mon cher," she had remarked. "After all, they have become very close, almost like father and son." Monsieur Laurent had agreed and laughed at his suspicion toward Erik, shrugging it off as his own vivid imagination running wild.

Erik had awakened early in the morning and started to work on his sketches, feeling happier than he ever had in his life. I finally have someone to share my soul with…my innermost thoughts, my past, my present, and at last…my future. She is the only woman I've ever truly wanted.

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Raoul de Chagny was expecting some information from Monsieur Thibedeaux that brilliantly sun-drenched but chilly morning. He paced the floor of his study, trying to rationalize what he knew was a betrayal of Christine's trust. He had never dared to take such desperate measures before…not for anyone. To attempt to destroy the man that she cared for so deeply could backfire on him easily. But it was a risk that he knew he had to take. I can't let her go without a fight. She must be rid of that monster before he harms her, he told himself, rather unconvincingly. He knew in his heart that this man, the Phantom, loved Christine far too much to ever hurt her--if he had wished to do so, he would have done it the night of his dreadful opera. Instead, all he had wanted was for her to choose to stay with him. Raoul tried to clear the sympathetic thoughts from his mind, reminding himself that this Phantom was a murderer who had eluded justice for too long. Emotion and logic wrestled one another in his mind, until there was a sudden knock on the door.

"Come in."

Francois entered, bowing. "Monsieur le Viscomte, Monsieur Thibedeaux has arrived. Shall I send him in?"

Raoul sighed and strode behind his large mahogany desk, seating himself in the leather chair. "Yes, Francois. And please send Ingrid in with some coffee for us, if you would."

"Right away, Viscomte."

Raoul straightened his jacket and smoothed his hair behind his ears. Monsieur Thibedeaux entered the room swiftly and noiselessly. "Viscomte, it is good to see you again."

"Thank you. Won't you sit down?" Raoul motioned to the chairs across from his desk, and the black-clad man seated himself in one. He smiled smugly at Raoul, and produced a large, thick envelope from his cloak.

"I believe you will be pleased with the information that my associates and I have worked so tirelessly and quickly to find," the man grinned toothily.

Raoul reached for the envelope. "Let's have it, then," he barked impatiently.

Monsieur Thibedeaux recoiled, grasping the envelope firmly. "Viscomte, this information is very valuable. It took some doing to get it all as quickly as you desired, and many of our contacts in foreign countries also became involved in this investigation on your behalf."

The young Viscomte leaned forward in his chair, bringing his fingertips together before his chin. "And I have paid you well for it, Monsieur. I do hope that you are not reconsidering our agreement." Raoul's expression darkened, but the dark man's piercing eyes never left his.

"Your payment was nowhere near equivalent to our expenses, I'm afraid. I will need several thousand more francs, Monsieur le Viscomte." His face was emotionless, and Raoul could tell that this was not the first time the man had preyed upon a client…but Raoul was just desperate enough to give in to his demands.

"Very well," he replied. "You shall have your money, if I deem the information as valuable as you say."

The sinister-looking man nodded, adjusting his wire-rimmed spectacles, and handed the envelope to him. Raoul opened it and pulled out a stack of papers that he knew he would never have time to read. "Tell me what the documents are," he stated firmly.

Just then, there was another knock at the door. "Come in, Ingrid," Raoul replied, quickly altering his tone of voice. The older woman quietly entered, setting cups before each of the men and pouring the rich, black coffee. Both men refused the cream and sugar. She bowed and left the room without a single word.

Monsieur Thibedeaux began at last. "Those documents on top show that the gentleman in question was born near Rouen. Apparently, he was born to an unknown young woman who had participated in a brief affair with an older, wealthier gentleman whose identity is also unknown. The young child was not seen again in that area after the time he would have been about seven or eight years of age."

Raoul stared at the papers. "These…the dates here would place this man…around thirty-six years of age," he remarked incredulously. He had never really tried to estimate the Phantom's age before, but he certainly wouldn't have guessed him to be near forty. He moves as swiftly and silently as a cat stalking its prey…for a man of his age, that is impressive, he thought, with a small amount of admiration. Then he came to his senses again. Admiration? Oh, yes. What an upstanding example he is!

"Hmmm, yes," Monsieur Thibedeaux replied flatly. "The other documents…yes, those there, underneath…those are proof that the same boy became a sort of…carnival performer, with gypsies. They called him "The Devil's Child." Apparently, he had some sort of facial ugliness that everyone found repulsive."

How well I understand, Raoul thought to himself. "And these here?"

The man chuckled. "Oh, dear Viscomte, that is the best part! You see, after he escaped from the gypsies, he disappeared for a number of years, his location unknown, until he surfaced again in a few different locations…India, Persia--"

"Persia?" Raoul interrupted. "What was he doing there?"

"Many things, Viscomte." The man's dark expression took on an even more menacing appearance. He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "Apparently he was a bit of a…renaissance man, if you will." He laughed darkly. "He entertained the Shah of Persia."

"Entertained? What are you talking about, man? Come now, out with it! I do not have time for these games!" Raoul was certain that he disliked the man, and was frustrated by the way he was over-dramatizing the findings of his investigation.

"The form of entertainment was not one that people here in France would enjoy, I'm sure," he sneered. "This man was a magician, as well as an assassin. Not only that, but a man who knew ways to…make the deaths of men much more painful than they needed to be."

Raoul frowned at the man at first, trying to process the information. Magician? Yes, Madame Giry spoke to me of that. But…an assassin? Making deaths more painful? Finally, after several seconds of silence, the reality settled in Raoul's mind. "He…he was a man who…tortured people?"

Monsieur Thibedeaux sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Well, it has finally become clear to you, has it? Yes. He was a torture expert…very good at it. He designed creative ways of killing people…for the entertainment of those in the palace."

Good Lord! Raoul couldn't believe what he was hearing. He sat in stunned silence, staring down at the pile of papers in his hands. This…this man…this thing—he isn't even human! He has hurt and killed many people in gruesome ways! Oh, Dear God! What if he were to harm Christine? I would never forgive myself. I must tell her of this…but how? "Thank you, Monsieur. This information has been most…helpful, although rather disturbing." He opened his desk drawer and pulled out several bills, counting them out and handing them to the dubious man before him. "This should be enough, I would think."

Monsieur Thibedeaux fingered the money greedily. "Yes, Viscomte. Thank you. It has been a pleasure doing business with you. If you should need my assistance again, please do not hesitate to ask." He paused for a moment and then added, "May I ask what your relationship with this man is, Viscomte? You seemed to be in quite a hurry to get all of the details…it seems that this is more of a personal nature rather than business, am I correct?" He looked like the proverbial cat that ate the canary.

Raoul glared at the man. "You may ask, but I will not give an answer, Monsieur. Good day to you," he spoke sharply. The man nodded and turned, slipping out as quietly as he had come, leaving Raoul alone again with his thoughts. Now that I know these things, what on earth am I to do? No…I must use this information. This monster must be brought to justice for all that he has done! He tried to convince himself that this was his true motivation, but his heart knew better…he wanted to get Christine back—at any cost.

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Christine sat in the storefront room at the sewing machine while Madame Dubois stood at the large table cutting fabric. It was nearly noon and she hoped that the older woman would allow her to have a longer break for lunch. "Madame, I was wondering," Christine began, "if I might walk to the café on the corner for lunch today."

Madame Dubois raised an eyebrow at her. "Meeting someone, are we?"

Christine looked surprised. "I…no, actually, I'm not. I just wanted a change of scenery, that's all."

"Oh, I thought perhaps you would be meeting that handsome young Viscomte. Have you seen him since he came by here the other day? He certainly seems like a good catch! You really shouldn't be so hard on him, dearie. After all, he is rich and if you married him, you'd never have to work again!" She spoke matter-of-factly, yet Christine knew that the woman had no facts to go on at all. It annoyed her a great deal.

"Madame, with all due respect, whom I choose to see or not see is my decision. And I am well aware of the Viscomte's wealth and charm. You need not remind me." She brushed a stray curl from her face. "May I be excused now?" She knew that she was pushing the limit of the older woman's patience by speaking to her in such a manner, but she did not care. It is rude of her to ask me about my personal life! She is not my friend, nor my mother, but my employer, for heaven's sake!

"Go on, then, Christine." The woman waved for her to go. "And you're going to need an advance again, aren't you?"

Christine blushed. Erik had, in fact, given her some money the night before. She had refused it…but from the look on his face, she knew that she had best hold her tongue and take the money. Even though she would soon be his fiancée, she felt odd accepting money from him...still, she hadn't yet received her first paycheck, and she needed it. "No, Madame, I…I still have some money left…from before," she lied.

"Well, aren't you a frugal one?" Madame Dubois laughed. "Very well, then. Off you go."

Christine stepped into the kitchen to fetch her cloak, as the weather had grown colder that week. She heard the doorbell ringing from the storefront, and she knew that a customer had entered. Women's voices, she thought. Thank God it isn't Raoul! She turned to exit through the back door when she heard Madame Dubois calling her name excitedly. She turned and stepped out to the storefront with a curious expression on her face. To her delight, she saw two beautifully familiar faces standing before her.

"Christine!" Meg Giry shouted, nearly tripping over the rug trying to get to her.

"Meg? Oh, Meg! I am so happy to see you!" She and Meg cried tears of joy as they embraced after nearly a month apart.

"I-we had no idea what had happened to you after the fire! When we didn't hear from you, we became worried. But here you are, working in this shop!" Meg glanced quickly behind her to her mother, who stood there in silent shock, tears in her eyes.

"Oh, Madame Giry!" Christine rushed to her foster mother and wrapped her arms about her shoulders, sobbing into her neck. "I didn't know if I'd ever see you again! I…I had no idea where you were staying, and I didn't even know where to look." She sniffled and tried to compose herself. She grasped the hands of the two women that she had missed so dearly, and couldn't help but smile so much that her face began to ache.

"Come, let's go to lunch!" Meg suggested excitedly to her mother. "May we, Maman?"

"Well, I suppose that it would be up to Madame Dubois to decide--"

"Oh, I have already excused Christine for lunch, Monique. She was going to head to a café, I believe…weren't you, Christine?" Madame Dubois genuinely smiled at her, as though she were sharing in Christine's joy.

"Yes, actually, I was. Won't you both come with me? Please! I need to catch up on all of the events in your lives!" Christine smiled at the two women, hoping that they would accept.

"Of course, we would be thrilled to join you." Madame Giry warmly grasped Christine's hand and smiled. "And you must tell us all about…how you came to be employed here, with Madame Dubois." There was an edge of disdain in her voice, and Christine sensed it. What will she say when I tell her about Raoul? she wondered. And do I dare to tell her about Erik?

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A/N: Darn it all! Am I the ONLY one around here who doesn't own a copy of Kay's Phantom? Grrr! And Leanne, if Erik gets in a plane crash on the way to my house, I'm gonna be really peeved! LOL Thanks to everyone for your reviews. I really appreciate all of you who are taking the time to read this story. -HUGS!-