Christine sat across from Madame Giry at the big wooden table in her upstairs kitchen. Erik was asleep in the next room, and Christine kept her voice low as she passed his door, so as not to wake him unnecessarily.
"Christine, I need his help."
"But Madame, he can barely get out of bed for over a minute at a time! How can he help you?"
Madame Giry looked carefully at the table, biting her lips in an uncharacteristically nervous gesture. Christine waited, not knowing what else to do. Madame rarely got this upset about anything, not even when the Chandelier fell and Erik had captured herself and Raoul.
"Christine, I have to tell you. You will know what to tell him to get him to help."
"Please, Madame, you are frightening me. What's the matter?" Christine leaned over the table and took Madame Giry's hand, trying to comfort the woman who had been mother and friend to her for as long as she'd known her.
"It's Meg. Oh, God, it's Meg and Raoul. I haven't heard from them in far too long. Then suddenly--" Madame Giry broke off, her voice choked and breaking with the thought of whatever had happened. "I received a letter from Raoul."
Christine was tense as Madame Giry reached into her reticule and pulled out a faded, tear-stained letter, written in Raoul's distinctive handwriting. Christine smiled momentarily at the knowledge that some things never change, but quickly sobered at Madame Giry's suddenly tear filled eyes. Christine looked closely at Madame, and saw for the first time that she'd aged incredibly much in the weeks since they'd last seen each other. Her eyes looked as though she not only knew the secrets of the world, but carried them inside her, and could no longer handle the weight of them. Her lips had thinned, and Christine noticed several streaks of white in the formerly pristinely blonde hair. Even Madame's hands had changed. They were still strong, but Christine thought that maybe, even though they could break someone else's bones, they could also be broken themselves now. As she took the letter from Madame, Christine knew that there would be no turning back if she read the missary from Raoul.
Gently, Christine unfolded the letter. It was a single sheet of paper, but Raoul had cramped as many words as he could onto the front and back of the thin sheet. Slowly, Christine lowered her eyes to the page and began to read.
Dear Madame Giry, Raoul began,
I know that Meg writes you regularly, and you must be concerned due to her silence. Well Madame, the truth of the matter is, even I do not know what has happened to Meg.
Last evening, I returned to our hotel room, intending to take Meg out to the Theater that she loves so much. When I entered, however, I discovered that out rooms had been ransacked, and there was no trace of Meg. At first I was glad that Meg had not been there when the perpetrators had entered, but after a night and morning of worrying and no sign of Meg or her return, I realized that not all was as it seemed.
Within several hours time, I was delivered a handwritten note from Meg. As you can imagine, this relieved me intensely. However, the contents of the letter were nowhere near as soothing as they were at first glance. Meg and I are fond of referring to Operas in our correspondences, and she mentioned that she would soon share a fate not unlike Tosca's. I was truly startled at this, and re-read the letter several times before I caught the gist of what she was attempting to tell me.
I did hope to spare you the news, Madame, but I am at my wits end and can find no other recourse but to ask you to find help on our behalf. If I am correct, and I may not be, Madame, I may not be, but if I am correct, Meg has been kidnapped by someone who wishes me pain. You cannot imagine the tumult I am in as I write to you, not knowing exactly who has kidnapped your daughter, my wife, and not knowing whether even as I write to you Meg might not be making her way back to me.
I do fear that she may already be dead, Madame, as I have had no further contact from her, and this silence makes me fear the worst.
Please, Madame, I beseech you, send me some comfort, some help, someone from Paris, someone I know I can put my faith in to help me find my darling Meg.
All my heart cries out to you,
Raoul.
Christine shook as she finished the letter. She laid it gently on the table between them. She thought Raoul had been slightly cruel in his revealing of events to the poor woman across from her. But she also knew there was probably only one man who would make the journey from Paris to where ever it was that Raoul and Meg had gone.
"Oh Madame," Christine breathed.
"Please, you will convince him to help my darling?" Madame Giry pleaded.
Christine nodded. "Of course. I couldn't deny Meg any help I may be able to provide her."
"I thought I could count on you," Madame Giry sighed. "Thank you, Christine."
The older woman looked so fatigued, and Christine knew that she and Erik had just been summoned back to the real world. She blinked back a tear as she helped Madame Giry down the stairs and called her a carriage for the journey back to the opera. As they pulled away, Christine looked up at the Mask Shop and saw Erik at the window. It was time to tell him of the trouble Meg Giry and Raoul de Chagny had gotten themselves into.
A/N--For those of you who don't know, "Tosca" is an opera by Puccini (same guy who wrote "La Boheme"). In the opera, Tosca, the main protagonist, uses her feminine wiles to save her lover, who is killed anyway, and then dies herself, committing suicide in her greif. You can see why Raoul might be slightly worried at Meg's mention of her fate being that of Tosca's. Also implied is the danger to Raoul, Meg's lover. If Meg is portraying herself as Tosca, and Raoul is her lover, Meg is implying that Raoul is in danger as well. And while Raoul may not have notice or mentioned his own danger, Christine has obviously not let it slip by her.
Love to my fans! Two updates in the same night! Lucky, lucky you.
And I am truly sorry if my Madame Giry is OOC. However, I cite artistic liscence as the fault of any mistakes I may have intentionally or unintentionally made.
Jen Who Rocks.