A/N- I had planned more chapters than this but I have changed my mind about them and feel they may need to be rewritten- bear with me!!

Chapter 4- Without You

The wind was fierce and strong gusts blew the guests sideways as they stood in the cold. It was early February on the outskirts of Paris, the sun was bright and high in the sky, but the wind was letting them all know it was still winter. Christine stood silently, clutching her small bag in front of her body. She was not crying, in fact, she didn't even feel like crying. All she could feel was whole and complete nothing, a numbness that radiated through her and made her incapable of any real emotion. At this point she had simply had enough, a mere eighteen years old and this was what her life was. It had become the empty well of daily life, that she now was forced to plod through slowly.

Standing there, no one speaking to her, barely able to look at her, she wondered how God could be so cruel. What had she done in her short life to make his treat her this way, to see fit that she suffer like this? It was at this point that she resolved never to pray again, there was no God, there was no force that looked out for the good and righteous, there was only evil in this world. Only the devil existed.

She looked up as the priest walked out and stood at the end of the open grave. The coffin had been placed carefully at the bottom of the muddy pit, and the crowd had gathered to pay their respects. There were more people than she expected, more people than she had told, but she was, in a way, glad that they were there. Still, their eyes now, for the first time, seemed to focus on her. They stared, without shame, at her pale face and waited for her to cry. She didn't though, she wasn't even sure how to cry now. And besides, she thought, what good would crying doing, what possible purpose would it serve? It would not bring her father back, it would not make him rise from the coffin and profess he was not dead. No, there would be no tears from her, she thought, no tears. I will not cry for my father, I will not plead with any being that he come back, for she knew that none of this changed anything.

It was not as though she had not tried it when her mother died. Oh, how she had wept. She and her father had huddled together, in the coldness they felt, and cried for hours. Her mother was a loss so great she never thought she could survive it, but she had. However, the tears and the praying had done nothing but worn her down. Her mother had still been dead, her father had still be heartbroken and Christine had still felt lonely and lost.

She looked up from under the rim of her hat and met the mourners gazes. You can stare all you like, she thought, but it will not change this. Her eyes fell back down as the priest began to speak the ritualistic speech that she had heard before. Christine's last money had gone on this funeral and to her it meant nothing religious, it was simply a symbol of her love for her father. A great man and an honourable man, one she would miss everyday of her life. She would not weep for him, no tears would leave her eyes but he would remain forever in her thoughts, an eternity in her thoughts.

'Ashes to ashes,' she heard the priest say but she did not look up.

Though she would not cry she would never deny the ache in her chest, the feeling of lead pushing her shoulders forward and down. She would not resist the pull of her body, the one that told her that nothing would ever truly be he same. She knew this and therefore, how could she deny it?

No tears would escape her eyes, not today, not ever but her heart would always ache. How cruel to cut his life short, as if he was nothing but a pawn in a game of chess, how cruel to take this talent, his talent from the world, how cruel to have made his life a battle and constant struggle... how cruel it was, how cruel the world was.

She took in a sharp breath and reached down to take a clump of dirt in her black gloved hand. She scattered it across the top of the coffin, threw down the flower that had been in her bag.

Rest in peace, she thought but did not say, rest in peace my father.

After the funeral was over Christine made her way through the town to her home. As she rounded the corner she saw men standing outside, burly men with batons and carriages. Her feet began to run as she realised that they were breaking into her house. There was no fear in her anymore, nothing could make her feel much worse, and so she ran for them. When she flew through the gate one of the bigger men grabbed her arm and lifted her from the floor.

'What are you doing?' he asked, staring at her as she kicked and screamed at him.

'This is my home,' she said, struggling to fight her way from his grip.

He began to laugh.

'What is funny?' she demanded. To this the man laughed harder, still holding her from the ground. She pulled her foot back and kicked him hard in the stomach. He dropped her to the floor and she walked towards the front door but he soon caught up with her. Grabbing her, her spun her around to face him.

'Look lady,' he snarled. 'This is our property now...'

His voice trailed off as he looked over her shoulder. She turned to see what his eyes had caught and saw a tall, dark haired man walking towards them. He was wearing a dark pinstriped suit, fitted as if he were a rich man. As her gaze drifted over him she noticed how tall he was, how dark his eyes were. It was most disarming. Still, the fury she felt bubbled a heat below the surface of her skin.

'Put her down,' he said simply. He did not shout nor sound angry, he very calmly told the other man to let her go.

Immediately the grip on her loosened and she was standing between the two men.

'Miss Daae, I presume,' he said, holding his hand out as if he expected her to shake it. She stared down at it and he quickly tucked it behind his back out of sight.

'What is going on?' she asked, not even attempting to keep the anger from her tone.

'Why don't you walk with me?' he asked, his voice was soft and she felt warm to it.

'Not until you get these animals out of my house,'

'Let me explain,' he said quietly, placing a hand behind her elbow and steering her towards the fence.

She stared at him.

'You father...' the man said.

'Before...' she began and took in a sharp breath. 'Before you begin to speak of a man for whom you are no match, even in death, introduce yourself like a member of civilised society,'

This brought a smile to his face. 'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I am Gabriele Aiton,'

'And how is it that you know my father?' she snapped.

'We were er...' he paused, as if finding the right words. As if words would make this any better. 'Business acquaintances,'

'My father was not in any business,' she said.

'He borrowed money from me,' he said simply. Eyes no longer sparkling, they were cold and threatening. She stepped back from him.

'And you will take my house and belongings to repay that?' she asked, dismayed.

'I'm afraid that was our contract,' Gabriele said smoothly. 'He owed me... a lot of money,'

'How much?' she said, hoping to sound forceful but she knew that it sounded anything but.

'Enough,' Gabriele said and Christine could have sworn she saw a glint of something cross his eye. 'None of your concern now,'

The words cut her deeply, as if someone had taken a sword to her. She stared at this man, this handsome and softly spoken man. Mutton in lambs clothing she thought, as she watched his face. His tone had not been malicious but the words were enough, the words and what they meant.

She had nowhere to go.

'What am I to do?' she asked. 'Perhaps I can get the money for you?'

He laughed. 'No, you can't,' he said, 'But thank you for the kind offer,'

'Do not knock me, Monsieur,' she chided. 'I know what I am talking about... I can find a way...'

He shook his head and almost looked sorry. 'It's too much,' he said softly. 'You will never collect that much money quickly enough,'

'At least let me try...' she said, trying to keep the whimper from her voice. Suddenly, she felt every bit the child she still was. She had been so protected by her father, so loved and cherished by him, that this side of life was almost foreign to her.

No they did not have much money, they were poor and Christine had always known it, but they had been fine. They had each other.

And now what did she have??

'Let me stay in the house then...' her eyes fixed on his. 'Give me a few weeks to find somewhere to stay,'

'I can't do that,' Gabriele said. 'I already have the house sold.'

She blinked. 'Already?'

He nodded. 'As soon as I found out your father had... er... passed on, as it were, I knew that I owned the house and knew I needed to sell it quickly,'

'You...' she stared at him. 'He wasn't even cold...'

She felt her heart beat wildly as she stared at this repulsive reptile hidden behind the exterior of a God. Is this how she and all other women would be fooled all of their lives, she wondered? By a good looking man, with attractive eyes and a good soft voice who was secretly nothing but an eel.

'You're disgusting,' she said but her voice had no force to it, no power behind it.

He smiled. 'Now, now,' he said. 'It is business, please don't take it personally...'

She took in a breath to stop herself from crying. She would not cry, refused to cry.

'In fact,' Gabriele said, the twinkle returning to his eyes. 'Why don't you let me prove it?'

It sounded almost like a threat.

'Let me take you for dinner,' he said. 'You're such a pretty young thing that it would be ashamed for you to believe that this is in anyway your fault,'

He stepped closer to her, placed a hand on her shoulder and leaned to whisper in her ear.

'I might even be able to give you somewhere to stay tonight,' he whispered, pressing his body to hers. She shuddered.

'That's quite enough of that,' she heard a woman's voice behind her. 'Get your filthy hands off her,'

Christine turned around to face a tall and elegant looking woman. She had black hair, pinned tightly back and dark eyes, she was dressed completely in black and in her right hand was a walking cane.

Gabriele turned around. 'I'm sorry,' he said looking at her but leaving his hand on Christine's shoulder. 'I didn't think that this was any of your concern,'

'Well, then that is your second mistake today,' she said sharply. 'Thinking... or at least attempting to... God would have had to bless you with a brain for that,'

Gabriele dropped his hand from Christine's shoulder and stared at the woman in disgust. Christine thought that he looked just about ready to pounce but she was grateful of this woman's intervention.

'What was my first mistake?' he spat, fury burning in his dark eyes.

'Laying your grubby paws on my Goddaughter,' she said