Chapter 46- Tangled

Erik looked on in disbelief from the ledge that ran around the top of the lobby in the Opera Populaire. What were they thinking? He had already caused them enough trouble to last them a lifetime yet they were determined to fight him, seemingly, at his very own level. Of course, they were not on his level. He had been watching, listening, he had heard their plan and knowledge was power.

Now Raoul was a problem. That boy really did think that he was something. To deal with him early or to leave him for a while, that was becoming his decision. His first instinct had been to jump down from the ledge and kill him that second, the moment he put his hands on Christine. Now, calming, he realised that the best way to deal with these people, the boy in particular, was to let them believe that they actually had a chance.

Lull them into a false sense of security, let them think that they have a plan good enough to out smart him. They didn't, of course, Erik had already planned for this eventuality. His original plan would have caused proved less destructive but now, through no fault of his own, the plan needed to change and therefore there would have to be at least one death. It would not be a terrible loss but it would pain him ever so slightly to do it. Still, he expected that his guilt, or whatever it was that he felt, would disappear as soon as he had Christine safely in his home.

Nadir had, of course, suggested that he take a far simpler approach and just find Christine alone and explain the situation. The question was, would she believe him? The answer to that was very simply, no, or in the best case scenario, probably not. Talking to her was going to be no good until he had taken her back to his home. He had packed some bags, brought her some clothes and other woman like things, and he was prepared to simply run with her. When he was younger, or rather, before he met Christine, he would have relished the prospect of a confrontation with Gabriele Aiton, but now he simply wanted to get her out safely. Nadir would be waiting to help them run to Persia where they would, with the old Daroga's friends, be perfectly safe from Gabriele and his underlings.

Letting his eyes settle onto Christine one last time, he felt that usual thud in his heart, the surprise he always felt at how beautiful she was. Every single time he saw her it was as if he was seeing her for the first time. He would notice subtle differences, new things about her, things he had never seen before. Today he spotted the way her head tilted, ever so slightly, to the right while she was concentration on a conversation. Her hair was falling a little to that side and the sun from the high windows was tinting it golden.

He shook his head and turned away. This was no good, this was a distraction... this was torture. He shuffled from the ledge, through a small gap in the wall, and placed his feet on the floor behind it. The corridor he found himself in was thin but just wide enough for his shoulders. The darkness surrounded him and he felt at home. The passage was low down and, therefore, he had to duck his head as he followed it to the space just above the auditorium. When he stepped out he looked at the stage and felt his heart swell.

One of his two loves. Music.

One of the pianists was warming himself up with some key changes and Erik stopped to listen for a moment, taken in by the beautiful playing. Many of the people in orchestra at the Opera Populaire were talented people who had been there for many years and seen many changes. He liked to listen to this particular musician, there was a certain purity in the way he played.

After a few minutes he followed the sides of the room until he was in another corridor behind the stage, from there he worked his way down to the floor carefully, and then down into one of his hidden doors, leading down to the corridors he had created beneath the theatre.

It always took his some time to get back to his home but he always relished the journey. The traps and the maze was something he had created, something he was safe within. It was difficult to find your way in, more difficult to get back out again. There was a good chance if anyone ever actually made it into his home they would die trying to get out.

He was very proud of it.

When he hooked the boat to its anchor he took off his cloak and placed it over the back of one of the chairs. He sat at the organ situated at the back of the room, choosing its harsher sounds over that of his piano, and lost himself in the music of Don Juan.

By the time Nadir arrived, Erik was suitably relaxed, more calm than he had felt in quite sometime.

'Good Evening,' Nadir said, as he poured himself a small brandy.

'Help yourself,' Erik snorted, turning to face the smaller man.

'It's a good job I do,' Nadir smiled. 'A person could die of thirst if it was left up to you,'

Erik nodded and stood, walking to the kitchen area. 'Have you secured our passage?'

'Yes,'

'And we're prepared?'

Nadir answered with a nod and Erik fell silent, letting the weight of the situation rest on his shoulders. The Persian's small frame was completely still, his stocky shoulders cast a wide shadow on the table. They both stood still for a long time, neither knowing exactly what to say. What Erik was going to do was dangerous, he knew it. He was going to leave himself completely exposed, let himself be open to anything and everything. Though he was prepared for most eventualities he could not prepare for just pure dumb luck.

There was always a chance that one of the guards would get a lucky shot in and he would be hurt. Usually, death would be quite a welcome friend. For many years he had prayed for it to take him but his prayers, as always, went unanswered. Now he feared death but not for the fact that he would die but for that fact that Christine would be left alone.

If indeed it was a trap then perhaps Gabriele would let her be but somehow, Erik could not see that happening. Gabriele, like Erik, was a man of plans. He rarely did anything on impulse, weighing the pros against the cons. If Gabriele had decided to take Christine, trap or no trap, then he would, almost certainly, take her.

'Are you worried?' Nadir asked.

'No,' He lied.

Nadir eyed him for a moment and then sipped his drink, apparently satisfied with the answer. 'What do you intend to do with her if she won't go?'

'She will,'

Nadir smiled. 'I think she might resist,'

'I'll explain,'

'Things can go wrong,'

'I'm aware of that, Daroga,'

'All I'm saying is that there is a likelihood she won't want to go with you, will you take her against her will?'

Erik thought for a moment. 'Yes,'

'Kidnapping,' Nadir laughed. 'New for you,'

'She will understand,'

'I don't think she's going to want to be taken away from Raoul,'

Erik felt a burning in his chest. 'She will come with me,'

'Alright,'

'She will!'

'Alright,'

He slumped into the chair and leaned his elbows on the table. 'I need to make her understand,'

The Persian nodded. 'That it's for her own good?'

'Yes,'

'For the record, Erik, I still think you should contact the De Chagny's,'

Erik opened his mouth to berate the smaller man but Nadir quickly held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. 'Just for the record,'

Erik stared at Nadir for a moment, let his eyes settle on the Persian's weathered, yet kind, face.

'Pour me a brandy,'

The sun was beginning to set over the trees that lined the horizon sending strokes of bright orange and pink over the winter sky. Christine had always enjoyed the view from the edge of the city, where the pebble stone turned to dirt and the grey became green. She had taken Monsieur Andre's horse and come out to the edges of town so that she could get some freedom, get some peace. The cool air was giving her brain a much needed blast.

Thinking.

And of course, as she was thinking, she was riding.

Before she realised it the sky was getting darker and when she turned around she could barely make out the buildings of Paris. At first she did not know where she was going, it was as if the horse was guiding her, but she soon realised where it was that she was heading. The fields opened out once again, one side paralleled by woodland, the other showing a small village. She once had a friend in that village.

She was not far from home.

If she had been asked she would have insisted that there was no chance that she would ever remember the way here but, as she looked around her, she knew. The church was some distance away, as she had entered the yard from the back, but it was as magnificent as she remembered.

And as haunting.

The gravestones surrounded her now as she climbed from the horse and then gently stroked his nose with the palm of her hand. He made a noise that sounded remarkably like contentment and she patted him before tying him up carefully. The managers did not know that she was gone.

They certainly did not know she had the horse.

The two men had far more to worry about at the moment that a missing horse and she was more than sure she would return it before they noticed it was gone.

It was dropping cold now and she could see the mist of her breath in front of her face. She made her way slowly, quietly, through the graveyard until she found what she was looking for. Opposite quite a grand monument was her father's small, modest, headstone. There were no flowers on it and she felt a pang of guilt as she walked towards it. Had she let him down?

Her heart began to feel heavy as she ran her finger along the cool edge of the headstone, reading his name. Charles Daae, beloved father...

She felt a lump rise into her throat.

'Christine,'

She spun around, recognising the voice immediately. It was Erik but she could not see him. How had he known that she was here, she saw no one following her... but then again, she had not really been paying much attention, had she?

'Wandering child...' His voice was soft, too quiet, and he almost sounded sad. It was devoid of the usual authority and instead was replaced with the softness she remembered from their talks.

'Where are you?' She managed to say, looking around her.

'You look so lost,' He said, without answering her question. 'So helpless,'

'Erik...'

He stepped out from behind the statue on the monument, he was above her, all in black, a hat, a black shirt, black trousers, black cloak... white mask.

'You need guidance,' He was looking down at her, his voice gentle when he spoke. Even from a distance she could see the sharp blue of his eyes, the way they pierced into her. Somehow her feet began to move towards him, her mind was overridden by something else, and she edged his way.

'Come on,' He crouched down and reached his hand out. 'I need to talk to you,'

Christine raised her hand, she was only inches away from him when she heard the sound of thundering hooves behind her. Still, she did not turn her head away from Erik, she stared into his eyes as her hand got nearer to his.

'Christine!'

It was Raoul's voice, she ignored it, stepped forward slightly.

'No!' Raoul was shouting. 'Christine, stop, stop it! Come back,'

She blinked, just a split second, she saw Erik's outstretched hand, the way his eyes explored her face. The feeling that she was the only person alive.

'I need...' The words seemed to stick in his throat and he stopped, turning his attention from her and looking over her head. Despite this, despite everything going on around her, her eyes stay focused on his face, on his lips, on his eyes...

'Stop!' Raoul's voiced pierced the silence and she could now hear his footsteps getting closer.

'Go away,' Erik said simply, calmly. Christine's heart thudded.

'Leave her alone!'

'Don't be a fool, boy,' Erik stood up straight, moving his hand out of Christine's reach. She watched him.

'Christine, please turn around,'

She didn't, couldn't.

'She doesn't want to,' Erik's voice was level and controlled.

'What have you done to her?'

'Nothing,'

'Madman,' Raoul's tone was growing more frantic and Christine knew that she should turn to him, look at him, but she couldn't. 'Christine, please!'

'Christine,' Erik spoke, softly. 'Come to me, come closer,'

She stepped towards the monument until she was almost touching it and reached her hand out again. Just as their fingertips brushed together, just as she felt the tingle in her skin, a jolt hit her from the side and she was suddenly rolling on the floor.

When the momentum stopped and she managed to catch her breath she stared at Raoul, lying by her side. She blinked.

'It's alright,' He said gently. 'You're fine,'

She turned her head, still dazed, looking for Erik, frantically searching for him, wondering if Raoul had hurt him in the commotion. 'Where is he?'

Raoul, too, turned his head. 'I don't know,'

'He must be here somewhere,'

Raoul pushed himself to his feet and walk cautiously towards the grave, looking around him at every step.

'He's gone,' Raoul said and she felt an eerie cool wash over her.