Disclaimer: I do not own POTO or Elisabeth.

A/N: I'm not exactly sure how much a typical train ticket or ferry ticket would cost in 19th century France, so I simply guessed.

Chapter Eighteen

Calais and Cholera

The last bit of money went into paying that week's rent. All that lay ahead now was one month of scrambling to get enough money for the next rent that would fly by far too fast. In her concern for finding Vladen, Christine had completely forgotten that she was slowly but surely draining her small reserve of money away. With night having long since fallen, Christine lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling and brooding over the issue of her nonexistent funds. What if she would have to travel a considerable distance to reach Vladen? She wouldn't have the money. What could she do? There was a possibility at the Opera Garnier, but that wouldn't be the smartest thing to do, considering the scandal she'd been through. Perhaps Paris had forgotten the whole ordeal, but that was highly unlikely. Besides, Christine doubted she would ever be able to sing again with Erik. Erik… The name echoed in her head, and she frantically tried to shake it away. Somehow, through all of her worries, Christine eventually fell asleep.

XXX

Christine handed the old woman the parcel.

"Thank you, dearie," she croaked, dropping the coins into Christine's hand. Until she was able to find a permanent job, Christine had began taking odd jobs, like delivering old Madame Querry's mail once a week for a few sous. It was a bit degrading, seeing that Christine was a full-grown woman, running errands like a schoolboy. When someone laughed, Christine simply held her head a little higher and remembered that when her son was returned to her and she was back on her feet, it would all be worth it.

On her way back to her flat, Christine passed the de Chagny mansion's elaborate façade. She could've sworn that she saw a pair of bloodshot eyes staring out the window with a vicious fire. She shivered but figured that her own eyes were just playing tricks on her, although she did start walking just a little bit faster.

Two girls, probably just out of school (if they had ever gone to it), walked passed her and stared up at the mansion.

"It's a pity," one remarked, "that the Comte had to run away to England." Christine stopped dead in her tracks.

"It's all the fault of that wench he married," the other said.

"They say that that's why he's staying in Dover. The wench always loved the sea." That was all Christine needed to hear, for the girls launched into the reasons why they would've been better suited for Raoul. She took off down the street.

Within minutes of arriving at her flat, Christine's few possessions were stuffed into the carpetbag, which now sat beside the door, ready for departure. Christine counted up the money a month of doing odd jobs, which yielded to about twenty francs. A train ticket to Calais, from where she could board a ferry bound for Dover, cost about ten francs. Plus the few francs that remained in her bank account, that left plenty of money for the ferry. Without giving the slightest thought to any complications that might arise, Christine hurried off to purchase her ticket.

Unlike when she had last been to a train station, all went swimmingly, and she was scheduled to leave on the six a.m. train the next day.

A broad smile stretched across Christine's face. She could practically taste the sweet fruit of victory. If all went well, which she was almost certain it would, she would be able to have custody over her son, and she would have something in her life to bring her joy. For the first time in a while, Christine fell asleep without difficulty, her troubled mind at least a little at ease.

Before the sun had even risen the next day, Christine was up, preparing, so that she might be at the train station at promptly six a.m. and not miss the train. She made it to the train station with plenty of time. After at least half an hour of waiting, the thunderous sound of the train rumbling down the tracks filled the air. The call was given, and Christine climbed aboard.

The next four or so hours on the train were spent in careful thought. With Dover so close now, it was about time that Christine decided how she was to go about convincing Raoul that she should be able to have custody over Vladen. Raoul had turned cold in the years following their divorce, but Christine knew that deep down he still loved her. She figured that it might be possible to use that to her greatest advantage.

With a screech, the train came to a halt. All the passengers began filing off. When she stepped out onto the platform, Christine stopped and took a deep breath, savoring the salty sea air of Calais. It reminded her of happier times, when she and her father had romped by the sea in the summers with Doctor Valerius and "Mamma" Valerius never too far behind. She'd sing Swedish folk songs, accompanied by Daddy Daae's violin. Sometimes, Mamma Valerius, too, would raise her voice at the familiar tunes, but most of the times she would shed a quick tear for her homeland. Memories of the little boy who rescued her scarf when it was blown away to sea came to mind, but Christine tried to push them away.

It wasn't a far walk from the train station to the docks, where Christine found a little booth where she could purchase a ticket for the ferry. The money and the ticket were exchanged. The man who ran the booth looked up at her.

"You're not from around here, are you?" he asked.

"No," Christine replied warily. "Why?"

"You look too healthy to be from here."

"Too healthy?"

"Don't you know? Cholera has been spreading through the city like wildfire. You best take all precautions between today and tomorrow."

"I'll be sure to do that. Thank you, sir." She took her ticket and walked away, searching for someplace to spend the night.

As she walked farther into town, the cholera epidemic quickly became more evident to Christine. She took her handkerchief and put it over her mouth and nose to block out the stench. Large Xs were painted onto the doors of mansions and shanties alike. Waste lined the streets, as did the bodies of those poor, impoverished people who were dead or dying. Death was everywhere. Death. Christine knew that Erik must be lurking somewhere. The thought of his name tugged at her heart.

She passed onto a cleaner street that was lined with a few shops and some middle class houses. Fewer doors were marked with the sign of the cholera than the rest of the city. She read the signs over her head, looking for a hotel or boarding house of some kind. A window that she passed bore a sign reading "Room for Rent". There was no X painted on the door, so she knocked.

A middle-aged woman opened the door and asked, "May I help you?"

"I'm here about the room for rent."

"Of course, please come in." Christine walked into the fairly typical middle class parlor. "My name is Mrs. Ruel." She led Christine up a set of stairs.

"Is there anyone else in the house?" Christine asked.

Mrs. "It's all right. I've gotten used to the solitude." She looked back at Christine and smiled. "It will be nice having some company for once, though." Mrs. Ruel opened a door. "This is your room. You're welcome to stay as long as you want."

"Thank you, but I'll only be staying for the night."

"Ah well, I'm not surprised that you'd want to be out of this town. If you come down in half an hour, I'll have supper ready for you." Mrs. Ruel left, and Christine dropped her carpetbag down on the bed. She dug her small hand mirror out of it, looked at herself, and was aghast. Her reflection looked as beautiful as ever. It was amazing what a fleeting hope of joy could do to her.

XXX

Christine's petite figure stood in front of the open door, her eyes fixed upon the hallway. She could've sworn that she had seen something walk past the bedroom and up the stairs, something that was definitely not Mrs. Ruel.

"I'm just acting silly," she said, walking back into the bed and climbing in. Briefly she closed her eyes, but they snapped back open. The thing was back, lingering on the threshold of the open door. She shot up in bed, and the thing dashed away. Ever so cautiously, Christine slid up to the door and stuck her head outside into the dark hallway. There was nothing.

The next morning, Mrs. Ruel confessed something to Christine at breakfast. "My dear, I'm afraid I've lied to you. I am not the only one in this house. Well, I was not the only one in this house." The shadow popped into Christine's head.

"Who else was here?"

"My son was here, in the attic. He had the cholera, but I didn't want anyone to know. I feared that the city officials would do something to him, so I kept him a secret. And he died last night." And suddenly Christine knew who the "thing" was.

A/N: Longest chapter yet!

There you go, Erik has his little cameo. He'll be back full force in the next chapter or two.

Please R&R!