Erik's POV

I spent weeks searching all of Paris for Christine. Weeks after weeks. All amounting to nothing, in the end. Where was she? Where had the Vicomte taken her?

After scouring the city for my lost love, I asked Madame Giry if she knew where Christine had gone.

Her first reaction was, "You deserved it, Erik. Keeping her cooped up like that was bound to get to her someday."

Then I showed her the note.

"Ah," she said. "Indecision. She loves both of you; now I see."

"You don't know of her whereabouts, I assume," I said coldly.

"Don't talk to me like that!" she exclaimed, ever the mother figure. "No, I do not."

"I do," a voice said timidly. Meg Giry walked into the room.

"You do?" her mother asked, puzzled.

"The Vicomte de Chagny took her to his estate in la Garde," she said softly. Meg was always the quiet one, especially in my masked presence.

"Thank you," I said. "If you need me, I shall be in la Garde."

"Don't do anything rash," Madame Giry warned.

"Me?" I asked sarcastically. "Rash?"

Meg laughed, while her mother gave me a stern look.

"Your daughter has a better sense of humor than you do," I told her as I left.

~0~0~0~0~

The train ride to la Garde was long and seemingly endless. Throughout the journey, I couldn't help but think of the possibility that Christine had changed her mind about the Vicomte.

"It's possible," I told myself. "She's been gone for nearly two months now."

That's when it hit me.

Two months.

The letter!

I hastily unfolded Christine's note, reading it once, twice, three times, four.

No.

No.

No, no, no!

It had been a month and three weeks since Christine left, and in her note, she specifically said her marriage was to be held in two months.

I had one week to find her.

For once, I willed the already speeding train to go faster.

~0~0~0~0~

The train entered the gare de la Garde two hours later. Two hours too long, of course.

Now what, Erik? I asked myself. If you go to the Vicomte's estate, you won't exactly be welcome by that fop, will you? Of course, maybe Christine would convince him that I wouldn't kill him- yet.

Well, if he didn't want my company, he didn't have to have it. I just wanted my Christine back. If she still wanted me…

I called for a coach to pull over.

"To the Vicomte de Chagny's estate, monsieur," I said.

"Chagny?" he asked. "Why would a masked fella like you be lookin' for Chagny? And his Daäe beauty, at that."

"I'm, ah, a friend, you might say," I explained, grimacing at the word "friend", which was very loosely used when speaking of the Vicomte.

"Well," he said. "It ain't none of my business."

In about a thirty minutes drive, I had arrived at the estate. I had to give the Vicomte credit where credit was due- he had a grand home. A mansion with marble pillars in the front, a long cobblestone walkway, a rose garden off to the side; it was a very nice home.

But Christine wouldn't have liked it. "I hate fancy houses like that," she had once told me. "They make me feel like the countess from Il Muto."

I walked up to the large, red painted oak door, rapping my fist on it loudly.

A maid opened the door, stepping back involuntarily when she saw my mask.

"C-can I help you, monsieur?" she asked with obvious difficulty.

"Is the Vicomte de Chagny home?" I asked as politely as possible.

"I'm s-sorry, monsieur," she said, "but the Vicomte and his fiancé left for Paris not long ago. Something about visiting an old friend." She paused. "Do you need anything else?"

I stood their, motionless, for quite some time.

Gone.

She was gone.

"No, thank you, madam," I said. I walked back to the carriage as fast as I could. Climbing in, I handed the driver twenty more francs.

"To the gare de la Garde," I said. He didn't act suspicious, which was good, since he had just taken me from there.

I needed to get back to Paris. Fast.