"How badly is he hurt?"

An aged shaman stood over the fevered man that had been found. He ran a hand through his thinning gray hair, his wrinkles bunched together in worry.

"Who ever did this to him expected him to die" the shaman explained. He looked at the man again, watching as his chest labored. The man opened his mouth to speak when the shriek of an eight year old was heard.

"Papa!" the child known as Christopher ran into the building that housed all three. The boy's father, Jacob greeted him with a slight hug before turning back to the injured man.

Christopher starred at the man on the table; he was wrapped in several blankets, attempting to keep his body warm. The boy ran his eyes over the injured man, stopping at the right side of his face. It didn't seem as his abductors had done this to him, although a fresh cut damaged the already scarred skin.

"What's going to happen to him?" Christopher inquired, hoping for the best of news possible.

His father frowned for a moment, thinking of a good explanation for his son.

"He's hurt Christopher"

Christopher nodded and looked to the shaman for help. The shaman smiled at the young boy, he was such a thoughtful boy and the older man enjoyed his company. The elder man turned to Jacob.

"We will continue to care for this man, only time can tell" he looked at the ceiling "Someone needs to stay with him"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Christine lay in her bed, fresh tears falling. Her lunch with Raoul was now two hours over and she still shuddered from his presence. It seemed like he knew something, knew to much. She didn't want him to know Erik was….

She began to cry harder, the harsh reality of the fact hitting her. He wasn't coming back… and she didn't want anyone else. She would never want anyone else. She thought back to their conversation at lunch.

"So business you say your phantom… eh Erik does?" Raoul had asked a knowing look across his face.

"Yes business, I am sorry he was not here for you to see today". Christine looked down, fresh tears forming.

"You're crying Christine?" Raoul asked, almost in disbelief

"No… no it's nothing, I need to go home Raoul".

Raoul had taken her back to the manor, as she was leaving he told her one last thing.

"If it doesn't work, remember I'm always here" he looked down "I'm pretty sure you'll realize that".

He had shut the door and driven off, leaving Christine baffled and crying. Did he know? Was she so transparent that he saw her grief? A knock on her door brought Christine out of her thoughts.

"Christine?" Meg's voice sounded through the door as she opened it slightly. Christine sat up and beckoned her friend to come in, but not before noticing she held something in her hand.

"Hey Meg" she beckoned at her friends hand "What do you have?"

Meg shifted her feet uncomfortably "Not good news"

Christine felt her heart drop

"C-can I see?"

Meg held out the parchment. With shaking hands Christine grabbed the letter.

Mademoiselle,

It is with deepest sympathy that I express my news. The body of the man Erik Destler was found this morning at riverside. Time of death is uncertain, but the act of death was purely accidental. Deepest regards.

Christine's hand fell, the parchment falling to the floor. He was dead… her angel… dead.

Tears fell hard as Christine fell into her friend's arms.

"I had hoped" she whispered into her friends shoulder.

Meg held her close, letting her friend pour her soul out.

"We all did Christine, but look… Raoul He..."

Meg was cut off by Christine violently pulling away

"I will NEVER love Raoul!" she sobbed as she felt suddenly dizzy "I will never love again"

Christine starred at the note that had fallen onto the ground and fell faint, her eyes closing as she thought of her lover… gone from this world forever. Christine faintly heard Meg call for Nadir and passed into the realm of unconsciousness.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The shaman's attitude brightened as he observed his patient today. He breathing was steady, and he hoped he would come out of his coma soon. It had been a week since he had found this man, and the man had been in an uneasy rest since he had arrived. He made a reviving stew for the man and walked over to feed him through tube.

The shaman turned at the sound of his name and saw Christopher had come to visit again.

"How is he today sir?" the boy inquired.

The shaman smiled, today he could receive good news, and "It seems our unconscious friend is breathing much better".

Christopher looked over to the man, his smile fading as he observed him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"It seems our unconscious friend is breathing much better".

Who was unconscious? Erik stirred lightly, a horrible pain coming from his head. He grunted as he attempted to sit up, not having yet opened his eyes. What was he laying on?

He cringed and grunted some more when he felt a force push him back down gently on to hard bed.

"You shouldn't move, you may have a concussion"

A voice cut through the haziness that was his surroundings. A concussion? He couldn't have a concussion he was….

A thought hit him as he violently sat up, pain wracking his body. He observed his surroundings, a wooden hut, an older man and a little boy. Did he know these people? He felt for his mask, it wasn't there, but the right side of his face was covered with a bandage. The older man rushed toward Erik again.

"You must rest".

Erik's throat felt dry as he attempted to speak "I-I was attacked"

The older man nodded "Yes, you were" he stopped "I am the shaman of this town, and this boy is Christopher".

Erik nodded and lay back down, the pain becoming unbearable "Where am I?"

"Twenty miles south of Paris, a town known as Jovaire" the shaman informed him.

Twenty miles south? Erik's head ached and begged for sleep as he thought of his surroundings; his home was almost 40 miles north of Paris.

"Christine" Erik whispered, and fell back into a dreamless sleep.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Nadir paced up and down the hall, the parchment in his hand. Maryanne stood at one side, attempting to calm the restless Persian. They had both been summoned into Christine's room by a very scared Meg. Christine had fallen into a deep sleep, overcome by grief. He had stayed be her side until he noticed the note, fallen and forgotten on the floor. He read the note and instantly saddened….

Until… he noticed the letter was not signed.

No mortuary would leave a letter unsigned, no one would leave the letter unsigned… unless.

"It's a fake letter"

Wooo!

Two updates in one day… well sorta It's 2am here. I am incredibly bored, so it's a good time to update! It snowed and I'm locked in my house… boo.

Thanks for the awesome reviews!