A/N: Thank you for all the great reviews. Things will seem weird in this for a while but it will start to bind- as I'm hoping it is all starting to now.

RR

Chapter 18- Better Days

The room was poorly lit and cold but it had become the company's meeting place. It was on the outskirts of Paris hidden behind one of the many wooded areas and could not been seen from any road.

It always surprised Gabriele that Erik knew of these places, being a man who preferred to stay in doors.

Gabriele sat at one end of the table, the leader as he had always been, but for all intense and purpose he was now Erik's puppet. Erik Lambourne sat at the other end. Between them were now eight men, two seats empty.

One of Laurent, the other of the unfortunate Timothee.

'What happened?' Erik asked, breaking the silence that had fallen between the men. They all looked at each other, no one willing to answer the question, no one willing to put themselves in that situation.

Gabriele had to admit to being part of the self preservation group himself.

'Will no one answer me?' Erik said, looking around him, the occasional flicker of candlelight dancing along the white of his mask.

Gabriele coughed loudly and looked at Patrik, Erik's gaze followed.

'Well?' Erik demanded, his voice low but not loud, his frighteningly blue eyes fixed on Patrik's face.

'We had to deal with a problem,'

Erik sighed and leaned back in his seat. 'What problem?'

'Dissent,'

Erik let out a chilling laugh, one that caught Gabriele's spine and made it shiver with fear. He knew that by turning Erik's attention of Patrik he had left the man in an almost impossible situation.

'Dissent?' Erik said.

'Yes,'

'Dissent of whom, what?'

'Us, the group,'

Erik nodded. 'Obviously a missing member and a death was not what you planned,'

'No,' Patrik conceded, his face flushed dark red in the dim light of the room.

'Then which of the two men was your intended target...' he asked, gold flickering in his eyes.

'Laurent,'

'Indeed,' Erik looked down at the table. 'Then, it would beg the question... why is Timothee dead?'

'It was a...'

'Mistake?' Erik interrupted, once again his gaze fixed on Patrik's face.

Patrik simply nodded the answer to Erik's question.

'We can't afford mistakes,' he said. 'Did Laurent kill him?'

Patrik nodded again.

'How could you allow that to happen?' Erik asked, a growl in his tone.

'We did not expect him to armed,' Patrik said reasonably but Erik was quite obviously beyond seeing reason.

'If I could...' Gabriele began, in attempt to save Patrik.

'You can't,' Erik snapped. 'Who came up with the idea of beating Laurent to with in an inch of his life...'

'I...'

'In front of half a dozen witnesses!' Erik stood, slamming his hands down onto the table. The noise echoed around them.

Gabriele grimaced. 'It was an... impulse...' he said finally. The other men looked his way, knowing he may have just taken his life into his own hands.

'An impulse?' Erik said.

Gabriele nodded. 'We saw the opportunity to deal with our problem and we took it,'

These encounters with Erik were few and far between. Usually, it was only Gabriele and Louis that had any contact with him. On the odd occasion Erik chose to join one of these meetings, he tended to be quiet.

Erik glared at him. 'Obviously,' he said, his voice a level and controlled sound. 'You didn't take it,'

Gabriele felt a sigh build in him but somehow managed to keep it in. 'No, we didn't,'

'So what dissent is it that we speak of here?' Erik asked, looking from man to man, around the table.

'He was going to hand us over to the police,' Gabriele said simply.

'How do you know?'

'Patrik overheard a conversation he had with a man in an alley a few days ago,'

'Is there a reason you didn't tell me about this sooner?'

Gabriele nodded. 'Yes,' he said. 'We didn't want you to feel as though we were turning against you. We wanted to deal with it and show you that we are capable of loyalty,'

'You failed to deal with it,'

'We will still get rid of him,' Gabriele said, confidently. 'We just need to find him,'

'Don't bother,' Erik said.

'What?'

'I said,' Erik repeating, patronising. 'Don't bother finding him,'

Gabriele was confused. He thought that the first thing on Erik's mind would be getting Laurent out of the picture.

'I don't understand,'

'You wouldn't,'

'You want us ... not to kill him,'

Erik shook his head, orange darting across his mask. 'Don't kill him,'

Gabriele was dismayed at this but took some comfort in the fact that there was a good chance Laurent would die anyway. They had beaten him badly, so badly blood was coming from his mouth. Gabriele had seen the newspaper and he knew that Laurent would not be able to go to hospital and therefore, would probably die a slow and painful death anyway.

Still, it confused him somewhat that Erik wanted the boy left alone.

'Let me just clarify,' Gabriele said, feeling a little nervous but trying not to show it in front of his men. 'You don't want us, in any scope, to go after Laurent and finish the job we started,'

'No, I want you to leave him be,'

'May I ask why?'

Erik smiled. 'Well, there is nothing stopping you from asking, Gabriele,'

'And you won't answer?'

'Catching on,'

The men seated at the table all glanced around at each other, they too displaying confusion on their faces. Erik had calmed somewhat but there was still a sign on anger in his eyes, the darkness that lingered there was obvious for all to see. Not one man on that table would dare to stand up to Erik Lambourne, not even Gabriele.

'Louis, a word,' Erik said as he hid in the shadows behind the old building. Louis' head shot up and he looked around him. 'I'm over here,'

Louis turned and spotted him, obviously the white of his mask giving away his position. As the other man made his way over, Erik stepped out of the darkness and faced him.

'Yes?' Louis asked and Erik immediately sensed the nervousness in his voice.

'I need you to do me a little favour,' Erik said, turning and walking away.

It took Louis a moment to catch up. He was a complete brute of a man, tall and broad, gnarled hands and dark hair. Slow though, nowhere near as agile or as swift as Erik. He did not make Erik at all nervous, not many things did.

They stopped at the base of the hill. 'I need you to escort someone to the opera for me,'

'Opera?' Louis asked.

Erik nodded. 'Yes,'

'Will you pay me for this?'

He laughed. 'Of course,' he paused. 'I always do... but you will see when you get there than no monetary value could ever be attached to having the pleasure of accompanying this woman for the evening,'

'Why won't you go?'

'Lets not act like idiots here, Louis,' Erik snapped. 'Is it not obvious why I will not go?'

Louis remained, wisely, silent.

'You will collect her from the rear of the Opera Populair in the centre of France,' Erik continued. 'I will pay for the carriage, of course, and the driver will know the location,'

Louis nodded.

'She has the tickets, her name is Christine,' Erik said and then let his eyes fix onto Louis. 'She will be safe with you, understand?'

'Yes,'

'You, yourself, will not lay a single hand on her,' Erik said. 'You will fend off anyone else who might have the audacity to try to,'

'I understand,' Louis said. 'Is she your... lover?'

Erik laughed. 'No,' he said simply. 'She is a friend and I except her to be treated with respect and dignity...'

'Of course,'

'And she will have the time of her life,' Erik said. 'Anything she wants... you will get for her... I will give you enough money and any left over is yours to keep,'

Louis nodded as Erik handed him a piece of paper. 'Here are the details,' Erik said.

Louis read through them quickly and then stuffed the piece of paper into his top pocket.

'Everything clear?' Erik asked, as rain started to pour from the dark sky.

'Crystal,' Louis answered.

'Good,' Erik said as he turned and walked away. 'I will expect a most positive report from my friend when you return,'

Louis nodded and Erik made his way into the darkness.

Laurent rubbed his eyes and then opened them, a feeling of sleepiness still washing over him. The only person he had seen in the last two days was Scott, who checked and cleaned his wounds, and brought him food. So far Antoinette had not kicked him out of the house but even Meg had not been back to visit with him. Scott had been kind enough to bring him a puzzle but otherwise, he had had very little to do.

He found that sleep had become a little easier last night, though he put that down to sheer exhaustion. Scott had been acting strangely around him for the two days he had been there as well. Still, Laurent expected that news had travelled fast about the stabbing. He had not meant to kill Timothee but what choice had he had? He was being punched and kicked from every angle, when Timothee raised his hand to punch him in the head he grabbed his knife and pushed it into his exposed stomach.

Laurent's stomach turned.

There was no doubt in his mind that he had killed Timothee but he hadn't meant to, he was only defending himself. They were trying to kill him, had turned on him like a pack of rabid wolves. Timothee wasn't even the worst, wasn't close to being the worst. In fact, he just didn't seem to belong in the company at all.

He was sad that Timothee was probably now dead, and at his hands, but it was a decision he had had to make.

It was either his life or Timothee's.

Feeling tired again he rested his head back down on the bed, feeling the pain course through his body again and again, in waves. Scott was careful how much morphine he allowed Laurent to take so all that the drug did was take the edge of the pain, instead of taking the pain away completely.

Looking up at the ceiling he contemplated life alone, with no help and no crowd around him. He sighed and closed his eyes, squeezing them shut against the pain. It shot up his sides and through his middle and he clutched at his stomach wishing he was somewhere else, wishing so much that he could change the past.

He thought that it must be hard now for people to have a real and true belief in anything, there was too much bad, too much wrong in the world. It made Laurent's heart ache to think of all the suffering he had made, the destruction he had caused. He had made all of the wrong decisions, those decisions that could make or break a person.

Laurent had always managed, somehow, to take the wrong path.

These decisions had hurt other people, family, friends and all of those who had, had the patience to care for him. He though of his father and how disappointed he would be with his youngest child. Antoinette had done so well, had worked, married a good man, had a beautiful daughter, she took her brother in when he needed guidance.

And his son?

Well, Laurent had turned his back on it all for a little respect. Respect he thought that he did not get from his family, a respect he thought that only working could get. He had been so wrong, very wrong and he knew this now.

He turned his head on the pillow and glanced longingly from the window. Last night he had tried to dress and climb out but it was no use, he was far too ill. He was surprised that his older sister had not thrown him out yet, but he supposed that that would require talking to him. Perhaps she was even contemplating handing him over to the police, he would not blame her.

Laurent had no one left to turn to and everyday he stayed in his sisters house he recovered a little more but at the same time ran the risk of being found.

Either by the police or by the company.