A Way Home

Chapter 7 – Can You Hear Me?

"She is running/ a hundred miles an hour in the wrong direction./ She is trying/ but the canyon's ever widening/ In the depths of her cold heart./ So she sets out on another misadventure just to find/ she's another two years older/ and she's three steps more behind./ Does anybody hear her?/ Can anybody see?/ Or does anybody know she's going down today?/ Under the shadow of our steeple/ with all the lost and lonely people/ Searching for the hope that's tucked away in you and me./ Does anybody hear her?/ Can anybody see?"

– Does Anybody Hear Her, Casting Crowns

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When the time stream finally halted, I peeked around the side of the column, and saw that I definitely was in the nineteenth century. But now there were more people. Or, at least, it seemed like there was. Perhaps it was just me.

When I picked up a newspaper from a local stand that sat nearby the foot of the steps of the Cathedral, I nearly fainted at the date: Le mardi 9 septembre, 1890.

"No!" I said to myself. A few people looked my way, but when nothing interesting happened, they continued on their way.

"Mademoiselle," a small boy said to me. He gestured to the newspaper. "Si vous voulez ca, vous devez me donner deux francs."

"Je m'excuse," I replied, and I handed him back the newspaper. Then I decided that, no matter what happened, I had to find a way back to my family.

The year was 1890! I was in the past ten years after I had left! Charity would be… I counted how old. Fifteen. She would be fifteen, and Dominique would be ten. Dominique was almost a grown woman, and Charity was probably already married! How would I ever find them? There were little things on the walls, and in the scenery everywhere that had changed, so that I kept getting lost.

Unfortunately for me, when I asked a person on the street what happened to the Phantom of the Opera, she told me that he had been thrown in jail – permanently. I nearly "choked on my gum", so to speak, when she told me that. I thought I was going to cry. There was no way that I was going to be able to get him out if he was in jail.

I asked someone else where to find Henri. I didn't know his last name – he had never given it – so I described him to the man. No one could mistake Henri for anyone but who he was because of his white eyes.

He gave me some directions after eyeing my clothes distastefully. I followed them to a tee, and soon found myself completely lost. How was I going to find Erik?

I had only one option left to me: I had to go straight to the jail. There was no other option. I knew, even with the changes in scenery, where to find it, and soon found myself there.

I entered, to find that there was no one there. I sat down on a wooden bench and waited for someone to come. While I did, I began to fill with despair. Would I ever find my family?

A song that I had heard on the radio long ago, before I had ever even thought about the manuscript – which I didn't have anymore – kept running through my head. I couldn't remember who sang it, or what it was called, but it made me want to cry as I kept hearing the same words repeat themselves inside my head…

Does anybody hear her? Can anybody see?

Or does anybody know she's going down today?

Under the shadow of our steeple

With all the lost and lonely people

Searching for the hope that's tucked away in you and me.

Does anybody hear her? Can anybody see?

I was searching for something that I felt was hopeless to find. The words, "Under the shadow of our steeple/ with all the lost and lonely people" were especially prominent in my heart and mind.

I had been under a steeple when I had parted ways with Erik for the first time. I had been under a steeple when I married Erik. I had been under a steeple once each year for every year that we were married until Charity was born. It was our way of renewing our vows. We would sit in the same pew that we sat when Erik had been chased out of hiding, and we would tell each other how much we loved each other, and the lengths we would go to save each other if it came to that.

I felt so much like a lost person who was waiting to be brought home.

"Is there something I can do for you, Mademoiselle?" A voice asked.

I looked up. I had been lost in my thoughts, and hadn't heard anyone come in.

"Oui, merci," I said. "I am looking for someone who goes by the name of Erik," I said. "He is quite tall, and has black hair. He," – here I paused, because I had made a point of letting Erik know that his deformity was one of the things that made him perfect – "he has a deformity on the right side of his face. Is he here?"

The man in uniform raised an eyebrow. "Nope," he said. "He's not here."

I knew for a fact that my face visibly fell. Without warning, I began to sob uncontrollably. There was only one other option of what could have happened to him. He must be dead. I couldn't bear the thought of losing him, the man I loved so much, and the only man, (relatives aside) who had ever loved me in return. Even when I had been in high school, all the guys had thought I was gross, and didn't want to come near me. Only in my senior year had guys ever paid attention to me, and that was only in friendship. Besides, by then, I felt I was beyond hope, and had given up. It was one of the reasons that I had begun to bury myself in my books, and ignore all my old friends. It was one of the reasons that I had found the manuscript, and in turn, met the Council, who had asked me to go back in time to get Erik.

All that had happened since I had found the manuscript ran through my head. I had gone to the meeting with the Council, been stared at by the revolting Monsieur Richard, nearly drowned and eaten alive, nearly been stabbed to death when I tried to defend Erik against Pierre, gone up against an evil overlord who had created his own religion just to fit his greed, had been through two pregnancies during the time period before they created morphine, and had traveled through time to the extent that I was suffering from stress and time-lag.

I was on an emotional rollercoaster, to say the least.

"Um," the policeman began, no knowing what to do with me, "it's okay. I'm sure he won't come back to haunt you or anyone else."

That made me bawl even louder. I felt sorry for the man, as he had no idea what to do with a babbling and weeping young woman, and was unsure if he should be harsh with me or not. But I couldn't control my emotions. I couldn't stop crying. I just wanted my husband! And I wanted my babies! My girls needed a mother. They had been without one for so long! Ten years! I needed my children! Where could they be?

"Where could they be?" I demanded through my tears. I wasn't actually expecting an answer; I was just venting my pain and frustration and heartache.

"I have no idea where the guy lives, but I know he's got white eyes, if that's what you're after," the policeman said.

I immediately stopped crying and looked up at him. My makeup was smudged all over my face, but I didn't care. "What?" I demanded, standing up and grabbing the man by his shoulders. "Where?" I demanded. "Where did they go?"

"Uh," the policeman said, suddenly afraid of me, "they went to the guy's home, I guess. I don't know where it is, though."

"Do you know anyone who does?" I demanded, pulling quite hard on his collar.

"Mademoiselle," he began, trying to pry my fingers off of his collar, "you have to calm down."

"Not until you tell me," I hissed in a low voice, bringing my face close to his.

"What are you doing?" A voice asked. Both of us turned our heads, and I saw another policeman standing not far away. "Dudley, what the hell is going on in here?" He demanded.

"Constable," Officer Dudley began. "Uh, this woman was here looking for the murderer we had. I told her he wasn't here anymore, and she freaked out. She won't let go of me." He looked quite scared. I still hadn't released his collar from my grip, so it looked like I had gone mad.

Finally, I did release Officer Dudley's collar, when the Constable threatened to arrest me. "Now, what is it you want, Mademoiselle?" He asked.

"I need to find Erik," I said.

"Who is…?" He queried, trying to get more out of me.

"The former Phantom of the Opera," I said, disliking the title as much as Erik did, but knowing that it was probably the only way he would know who I was talking about without me having to repeat the description of him.

"Oh, him," the Constable said, sounding bored. "He's with that white eyed fellow with the money. Why?"

"So he's alive?" I asked, my eyes alight with anticipation.

"Yeah," he said cautiously.

"Oh, thank you!" I exclaimed, and, without warning, I jumped up and hugged him.

"Um, your welcome?" He said, feeling very embarrassed. I knew without looking that Officer Dudley was giving him a look that said the Constable deserved what he was getting.

A/N: There is the next chapter! Whew! Review, please, and let me know what you think! Here are the translations:

1. Tuesday, September 9, 1890

2. "If you want that, you have to give me two francs." (the franc was the currency in France back then)

3. "Yes, thank you."