Chapter 82 Found and Lost

The carriage clattered down the road. Christine and Madame Giry had long since stopped talking as each conversation wandered back to the questions that both had, but neither knew the answers to. Silence was more soothing. Christine watched as the landscape changed from the soft first blooms of impending spring, to the muddy fields, to the snow covered ground that now was beneath the carriage. It still amazed her how very different the weather was just a few hours away from the sea. When the sea was warming, everything came to life. When the winds of winter blew, the sea became angry, bitter gusts of frosty salt covered the land, sending the household off to the deep tree sheltered refuge of the winter house. How she longed to raise her…no…their children there.

She closed her eyes reliving the dreams of watching Erik run along the beach with the little girl with dark flowing hair. The dream had become so refined, so highly tuned now that she could almost feel the breeze from the sea on her face, taste the salt on her lips, smell the flowers that bloomed on the edge grasses, and feel the sand beneath her feet. She could hear their laughter, and the sweet small voice saying "daddy, tell me again, sing it for me again…" How she'd come to this dream she couldn't be entirely certain, but it comforted her in times of trouble now, as if it were an old reassuring friend. She smiled as she replayed it over and over in her mind.

Madame Giry sat glancing out the window. Yes, she was scanning the fields, but was keenly aware that the sentries that sat in the seat with the driver would have a much better view, and would be more likely than she to observe anything that looked out of the ordinary. She pulled her cloak closer around her. The temperature had dropped, the further they'd moved away from the sea. She found herself wishing she'd put on her woolen dress before they left, but there had been no time to change.

She reached into the basket that the maids had prepared for them. Feeling a bit light headed from lack of nourishment, as they had not even touched their breakfast that morning. Though she had no appetite, she knew if she did not eat something that Christine would not, and she needed to keep after her to do so for the sake of the child.

"Here, my dear, have a bit of this cheese, and an apple." Madame Giry said, holding it out to Christine. Though her eyes were closed, she knew she wasn't sleeping.

Christine barely opened her eyes, "I'm not really very hungry yet," she said as the carriage jostled them about. The ruts in the road grew deeper, evidence of the thawing and freezing, thawing and re-freezing that was so common this time of year. "This incessant bouncing I fear has me a bit queasy." She'd hoped that this would satisfy Madame Giry, but the look on her face, and the insistence of her hand indicated she would not accept that answer.

Christine took the apple, passing on the cheese. "Thank you." She mindlessly raised it to her lips, taking the first bite, juices running down her chin. It was sweet, crunchy, and perhaps just right to settle her stomach. A brief, fleeting thought passed through her mind, it reminded her of the sweet peaches that she and Erik had shared in the deep recesses of the cave…seemingly a lifetime ago….and she smiled.

Madame Giry quietly nibbled on a few short bread cookies. A cup of hot tea would be welcome for the warmth as well as the drink, but the road was far too unsettled to permit it.

"Mother, what do you think might have happened to them? Why would Meg be going back to Paris, and why in the world was she at the winter house so early? It is all so very confusing to me."

Madame Giry brushed the crumbs from her lap. "Child, there are so many questions the answers to which elude me. I can but only hope that we find everyone at the winter house, safe and sound."

Christine didn't even need to say a word, the silence indicated that she concurred.

Suddenly there was a rap on the top of the carriage. "I see something! Over there…in the distance, see there…there!" Madame Giry pressed her face against the glass of the window, her breath fogging it slightly she wiped her glove-covered hand across it to catch a better view.

"What do they see?" Christine said fervently, trying to glimpse out the window on the other side of the carriage. "I don't know, perhaps it is beyond our view." Madame Giry responded a tone of desperation in her voice. They'd not said what they saw, but rather THAT they saw something. She began to rap on the roof herself, indicating that she wished to stop, but the carriage lurched forward instead, moving faster than she feared the carriage would tolerate.

Christine grabbed the side of the carriage as she was nearly thrown to the floor, the apple plunged from her hand to the floor of the carriage with a thud, rolling about as the carriage was tossed to and fro. "What is it?" she said a fright overcoming her.

They continued in that manner for several long minutes before the carriage began to slow, and then came to a stop. Madame Giry wasn't going to wait for the courtesy of an escort, she flung the door open, pulling her skirt up into her hands she made her way out of the carriage. Christine decided to do the same, her heart pounding, what was it…who was it. Then she heard Madame Giry call out "Nadir, thank God you are alright, have you found him?" Christine's heart sunk, and she slumped back into the seat. Erik was not with them.

XXXXXXX

Erik had pulled a large canvas from the piano to cover Sara. Though it wasn't for her comfort, he'd put a pillow under her head, and wiped the blood from her face. His fear that the boy would return had long since passed, as all had been quiet for hours. Erik's mind was quite clear now, and the focus had returned to his eyes. He'd had morphine before, but this had somehow had a more powerful affect than what he'd remembered. His side ached, and his arms felt sore, but the use of them was returning, though they weren't strong, they would respond without conscious thought.

Erik sighed. He'd have to get back on that horse if he had any hope of returning to the manor before night set in. He didn't want to disrespect Sara's remains, but knew he could do nothing more for her without a carriage and some assistance.

He glanced over at her, as the memory of the first time he'd seen her flooded back into his mind. It was one of the few memories of his childhood that weren't filled with horror, one of the few random acts of kindness that had kept him sane, kept him believing that people could be good, that not everyone was cruel and heartless. He was saddened as he realized he'd never thanked her, that he'd not talked to her at the manor, asked her how she'd come to be there, or how her sister was. He only hoped now that someone would help him keep his last promise to her. He didn't know her children, or even her last name, or much less how he would find them, but Erik would do it. He always….always….kept his promises.

He pulled himself up on the divan, regrouping before he would attempt to stand. The pain in his side nearly made him buckle, but he was relieved upon examining the bandages, that no blood or even hint of it showed through. He had worried that in all of the activity that he might have reopened one of the wounds, but he had not.

Erik's hand traveled up to his face. "She said it was perfect now." He muttered to himself. It seemed that everyone but he knew the whole story, and watched the process, had thought of it as a blessing. He rubbed the skin carefully tracing each inch.

How had this improved his circumstances? It had not. A loyal friend lay dead at his feet. His Meg had been harmed, to what extent he could not even say, and now an assassin was somewhere out there in the woods. A perfect face had not wrought a perfect life. The irony of that thought astounded him. He was the same Erik on the inside, and it mattered little what he looked like on the outside. How he had imagined it would change everything and yet it did not. Yet her words haunted him… "perfect, God has smiled on you"…… It mattered little what he was like on the outside, or what he was like on the inside now. It would be what he did now, that would define him.

XXXXX

Nadir and the physician had traded their mounts with the sentries for the comfort of the carriage. Although the ride was bumpy, it was a welcome relief for the two weary men who'd not slept for hours.

Christine sat quietly as Nadir had explained, in gruesome detail, Meg's injuries to Madame Giry. The pain in her eyes made Christine wish she'd been asleep to be spared from it. "Meg will be quiet healthy again, if she is properly cared for," the physician assured her. "I simply do not understand why she was there, why she'd left Paris." Nadir wished now that the physician was not in their company for there was so much more he had to tell both of these women, but the present company prevented it.

"Whoa……" the carriage slowed as they pulled to the side of the fence at the winter house. Christine leaned near the window "that is the horse that Sara took this morning!" she was a bit excited to see it there, for Sara wouldn't have stayed without reason. "I implore you to help me from this carriage, he has to be here, he simply has to be!"

Christine was nearly climbing over the top of the others making her way to the door. The coachman had already come to the side of the carriage to open the door when Christine grasped the handle, nearly falling out into his arms. She ran towards the house "Erik! Erik…..ERIK!" She stumbled up the stairs, throwing open the door, flooding the foyer with sunlight.

She gasped, reeling back into Madame Giry's arms as she had been right behind her. The women stood looking into the rooms that they could see from the door. Broken glass, ripped fabric, torn canvas, and blood, splattered everywhere that they could see, a dark pool trailing off into the parlor.

Madame Giry slowly began to back out of the door, pulling Christine with her down the stairs. Nadir had been searching the yard….Erik's horse was not there, he could but wonder what caused Madame Giry to begin to scream. Nadir pushed passed the women, the doctor rushed to them to steady them as Madame Giry began to weep. Having a wider view than Christine had, she had seen Sara's shoes on the floor, next to a pool of blood, and Erik, draped across the divan, a splattering of blood covering his clothing.

Nadir walked carefully into the house, gun at the ready. He ventured inch by inch over the broken glass, and the fresh pool of blood, that had not been there when last he passed through that door. Something more had happened. He saw lights flash before him, the clashing of swords, the shrill cries of lives coming to a bitter end, the lashing of whips… For those that had been witness to the carnage that he had in his lifetime, the flashbacks came during even their waking moments. Unlike nightmares, they haunted every thought, every moment they threatened the sanity of those who were doomed to carry them. The sight of the puddles of blood brought Nadir to a place and time he'd tried hard to forget…that he'd prayed Erik could forget too.

His senses were on edge as he turned the last corner, bringing the parlor into full view. He saw, as Madame Giry had, the horror that lay there. No doubt Sara had died first, Erik having covered her before succumbing to the same fate. His heart plunged as he thought of the final moments of his dear friend. He'd come back to them, only for them to lose him forever. Even in his unconscious state they had his body, now they would be deprived of even that.

Christine gasped as she heard Nadir shrieking, and yelling at the top of his lungs. Then all went silent. Christine's head was swimming, she saw spots of light, her heart thumping in her throat, and then she lurched forward and to the ground before the doctor could catch her.

Madame Giry dropped to her knees, bringing Christine's head to rest in her lap. "I'll fetch my smelling salts from the…" Madame Giry waived the doctor off. "It is best that she not see this…go to help Nadir," she said in a choked voice.

The doctor walked into the house. The scene was far more gruesome in the full light of day. Though he'd been a physician's assistance during the war, and been on the front lines witnessing much, there was something so much more unsettling to see the likes of this inside a home. Such treachery did not belong there.

Nadir had walked over to the dining room table and was pulling the cover from it, intending to use it for Erik. The doctor moved passed Sara, the blood coming through the canvas telling him all he really needed to know. He knelt next to Erik. He had been his pride and joy as a physician. So much had happened with this man, and he'd come to love him in an odd sort of way. He studied the cheek with his eyes, stopping as he saw the slightest movement of Erik's chest. Yes, his breathing was shallow, but it was there.

"Nadir! Come quickly, he's alive! He breathes!" Nadir dropped the cloth from his hand, running back into the parlor. "Come, help me lay him down on the floor!" Nadir kicked at the chair, a loud scraping noise as he pushed it out of his way. They pair pulled Erik down to the floor, laying him flat.

The doctor quickly examined the areas where he saw blood, but there were no wounds. "This is not his blood." The doctor leaned his back against the wall. Nadir was still perched on his knees above Erik's head. "The medicine would have worn off by now, even the dose that he insisted he have…"

Nadir looked at him curiously. He leaned down to look more closely at Erik, "my friend, why is it that you sleep again?" Then Nadir though he heard something. "Erik! Erik!" Nadir began tapping at his cheek. "Wake up!" Erik groaned. Nadir leaned to within an inch of Erik's face, and then he grinned. His eyes wandered up to the divan, and then scoured the tables on either side. There it was, the bottle of brandy that Nadir would have looked for earlier. It was empty, and Nadir had a good suspicion of where it had gone.

The circumstances were such that a pin could have pierced the air, heaving a great belch of hot gases into the skies. And yet, the pressure was released as Nadir began to laugh. It was so out of place, so out of character, and yet so appropriate. "This man is drunk not dead!" Nadir said to the physician.

"What? He's not to mix liquor with morphine it could kill him!" "My dear sir, Erik has done a great many things in this life that would have killed many a man, and lived to tell of it. He's not had a drink in years!" Nadir was relieved for Erik's sake, for Christine's sake, for his own sake. They'd have to sober him up to find out what events had taken place, and why Sara was now dead. It might be hours before he would wake. "Let us put him back on the divan, so he won't be as stiff when he wakes." The doctor nodded and the two men moved him once more to the cushions.

"Now, what are we to do with Sara? The poor woman needs a proper burial." The doctor reached up pulling the canvas from her face. She was stiff and cold to the touch, no doubt dead for hours. "Let us wrap her up in the canvas, and bring her to the maid's quarters at the back of the house. They carefully picked her up, wrapping her in several canvas cloths and carried her to the back. The authorities would have to be contacted, but that would have to wait. Nadir searched the kitchen until he found a bucket and several mops. He and the doctor went about mopping up the floors as best they could, sweeping up the glass, and other debris.

Madame Giry waited patiently outside. She was trying to think of what she would say to Christine when she woke. She would have to take her back to Paris with her. They would have to make up a story about finding Christine, something plausible. The fact that she was with child would have to be explained. Raoul would have to decide what to do. It would all be very difficult for them.

No doubt Nadir could take care of Erik's final affairs. She cradled Christine's head. "Dear sweet child, what shall become of all of us?" She found herself wishing that she'd never gone to visit the gypsies when they visited Paris. If she'd not found Erik, helped him escape, none of this would have happened. For what kind of life had he really known? What had she done to the child she'd thought she was saving from the orphanage when her father died? It was frightening how her choices, made so many years ago, had affected so many people.

Madame Giry looked up as Nadir and the doctor made their way out of the house. "I'm quite afraid it is still a bit of a mess, but I think it is safe for the two of you to come in now. Can you stand?" Nadir was extending his hand to Madame Giry. She shook her head, reaching out and grabbing his hand.

"Please, I do not want Christine to see this, please monsieur, take her to the carriage, she cannot see that house." The doctor reached down for Christine's feet, and Nadir slid his hands under Christine's shoulders, as the doctor helped him hoist her into his arms. "My dear, it is safe for you to follow us, you must be exhausted." Nadir carried Christine toward the house.

"Nadir, please, she cannot be allowed to…" The doctor went to Madame Giry. "He is alive, quite intoxicated I'm afraid, fool mixed brandy with his morphine!" The doctor took her by the arm leading her toward the house. "Sara is another matter, she is gone…" Madame Giry having already known that by what she had observed, nodded. They disappeared into the house, closing the door.

Author's notes:

Chapters are quite long, sorry if they seem to run on. I'm trying to limit the "cliffies", but now I don't know quite where to end the chapters!

Captain Oblivious: Too late, the lemon jello and blueberries were swiftly consumed…sorry to say, you're stuck with chocolate pudding…something Meg would be eating right about now….and something you can enjoy through a straw since you find your hands quite restrained!

Ah, I see you figured me out…Sara indeed…I always knew she'd play a special part in his life. Though his mother tossed him out on the street, women in his life have risen to the occasion and provided what he needed most, at the precise moments he needed it! Who said it has to be family that has the most profound affects on you…it might very well be the life of a stranger that saves you! After all, Gerry has women's hearts beating all over the globe…even women who'd nearly forgotten they had a heart!

Perhaps this Halloween you shall have to be the Phantom! Although….after you see Dracula, you may choose to keep your fangs…..no….the mask will still win out…although you get to wear a cape either way…..darn…a "desert island" quandary indeed!

PhantomFan13: Do not worry my dear, I shall not kill Erik, though one can never tell what the villainous characters are up to in this story. I'm sorry if I've been depriving you of sleep. I myself was up until 2:00 A.M. writing future chapters….I'm something of a non-reformable nightowl. I must live in the light to earn a living, but I really am alive when it is dark outside and the rest of the world is sleeping….it's no wonder that I love POTO!

Ah, as for what and when Raoul will come to know, I cannot say, resolution of those most difficult problems still elude us. If Raoul was to find out now, it could irrevocably alter fate, and fate has it's own plan. Hope you enjoy the next chapters. Though not everything is tidied up, it should leave you breathing just a bit easier.

Christine de Nuit: It wasn't meant to be evil…so sorry about being gone on vacation. At least the anticipation should make coming back from vacation a little easier. I hope you enjoy the updates when you return!

Stellalorelia: Welcome to the family! I'm so happy you've found the story. It was your sentiment exactly that started me on this journey. The story of the POTO is such a gothic romance, and in the depths of my heart I just felt it ended wrong… I simply had to re-write it for my own sanity's sake. I connected with this story on a very personal level, and it would not let me rest. I too searched a few stories never finding one that I really connected with. That's when I decided to try my hand at it. This has been something of a journey for me. I felt a twinge when I read your review. I consider it to be the highest compliment an author can receive to be compared to Dickens. I floated like a little butterfly all night after I read your words. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I must tell you it was a bit eerie, because you could not have known, but I've included a reference to a number of Dickens' works in a future chapter, and had done so long before your message….it confirmed in my mind that I wasn't crazy for interjecting those literary references! I hope you enjoy the next chapters. I'll faithfully update, as long as there are faithful readers out there!