Chapter 57- Round Here

Christine's hand found Raoul's in the darkness of their new prison. It wasn't like the cell, it was warm and there were beds, but it was still dark. Only a sliver of light was allowed entry to the room through a crack in the boarded up window. She could just make out the shape of Raoul's shadow.

She wasn't sure why Gabriele and his men had locked them together but Christine had a horrible feeling it was because they expected this to be the last time they ever saw each other. A glance at Raoul's dark figure told her that they might be right, yet she refused to be defeated. She had told Raoul that Erik would come for them, both of them, and she truly believed it.

There were many things in life that Christine knew she would never understand but in the last day she had learnt more than she ever thought possible. She had felt protected, envied... loved. She had felt lost, broken and doubtful.

Now she felt a ray of hope. Just feeling Erik so close to her had given her the will to continue. He had told her that he would find her and she honestly believed that he would.

Finally, Raoul's fingers squeezed hers and she knew he was conscious again.

'How are you?' she whispered, knowing that there was at least one guard on the door.

He groaned a little and she felt him stir as he pushed himself into a sitting position. 'I'm not as bad as I sound,'

'The knock on your head was bad,' she said, softly, stroking his hand with her fingertips. She needed him to know that she was there, that she would do anything in her power to help him.

She saw the shadow of his arm move as he touched his head to check the wound. 'It's stopped bleeding so it will begin to heal,' he explained but she was skeptical. He needed a doctor.

'How does it feel?' she asked.

'A little sore,' he said and she heard the trace of a wry smile in his voice. 'And sticky,'

She squeezed his hand.

'I love you,' he whispered, the words softening the edges of darkness as he moved his arm to place it around her waist. 'I won't let them hurt you, Christine,'

She should have been pleased at his words, she should have flung her arms around him and cried into his neck, looking for salvation in the warmth of his embrace but she didn't. Raoul felt the need to protect her constantly, even when she told him that she didn't need the protection, and sometimes his rashness caused them trouble.

There was not a place on the earth nor was there a time where she would ever be able to deny that she loved him. It was a deep love, born of years of friendship, young courtship and the trust in him that comes with knowing someone. He was truly a handsome man, tall and lean, with the softest eyes and most gentle of touches but he would need to learn that she had been through a lot and she had learned to take care of herself.

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. 'Talk to me, Christine,'

'I love you too, Raoul,' she said, and she meant it, but she would not lean on him, would not let herself give to his embrace.

He coughed and she rubbed his back gently.

'Are you in a lot of pain?' she asked.

'Not too much,' he said but she knew that it was a lie. Were all men the same? Were they all incapable of admitting when they were hurt?

'Good,' was her only response in spite of the knowledge that he was lying about how badly he was hurt. She wasn't a complete fool, she knew that when you dropped in and out of consciousness then you must be fairly badly injured.

She wondered if it had been she who had given Raoul the impression that she was a damsel in distress. She thought back over the period that she had known him and remembered, with a wince, the day she had met him. He and Philippe had rescued her that day from a group of young tyrants. Perhaps this was her fault, maybe she had given him the wrong impression when they had first met... the idea had obviously stuck.

When she let her mind drift to the last few months she knew that she had been the strong one. Though he might not see it, it had been him and Philippe who lost their heads, convincing themselves that the Phantom of the Opera was beatable.

They had all tried to tell them otherwise, they had tried to convince the two de Changy's that they should let it lie instead of trying to trap him. Madame Giry, Meg, Christine... they had all told them.

'Raoul,' she whispered, but he didn't answer. She reached across and touched his chest and was relieved to feel it rise and fall with his breathing.

He was unconscious again and Christine was now alone with her thoughts.

She wondered if Erik knew that tearing his mask off was an act of kindness. Although her emotions and anger had overflowed in the cellars, she had only torn the mask from his face to save him. Christine knew that Erik could not bear to be exposed that way and she knew he would run... she tried to save him.

He was angry, she would have been too, had it been the other way around.

They said things to each other, hurtful, vicious things but she was so angry with him. For such an intelligent man his logic was always flawed. He didn't need to kill people for her, he didn't have to be so stubborn all the time and he didn't have to kidnap her... if he wanted to talk to her, he only needed to ask.

She wondered then, if he had managed to escape.

Erik was feeling less weary and was sitting up drinking more warm tea and trying to get his head back together. The older man, Michael, had injected him with a substance that appeared to be morphine... judging by the lack of pain he was now feeling.

'I need to go,' Erik announced and the three Good Samaritans looked over to him. No one had asked anymore about Christine since his painful revelation, they must have assumed it was best left alone. 'How long have I been here?'

'Nearly an hour,'

Erik closed his eyes, squeezed them shut. An hour. 'I'm running out of time,'

Michael stood from his seat beside the fire and moved towards him. 'This Christine...'

Erik looked up at him, feeling a burning in his chest.

'You say they have her,' Michael said. 'Do you mean that they have kidnapped her?'

Erik nodded,

'Do you know where they are?'

'I was tracking them,'

Michael turned away and looked of the window. 'The rain has slowed a little, the tracks will still be there, very few people come by this way,'

It was Marianne that spoke next, 'I saw some people earlier,'

The three men turned their attention to her.

'Nearly two hours ago now, while you were working in the cellar,' she looked at Charles and Michael.

'Did you see who it was? Did you recognise them?' Erik urged her to tell him, he needed to know.

She nodded. 'It was Gerry, from the farm,'

Charles shook his head. 'I always knew that man was involved in more than his parents business,'

'It's not too far from here,' Michael said, 'Follow the faint path through the trees you can see in the distance, you can see the farm from the far edge,'

Erik thought for a moment, wondered if they would actually be there. 'I'm not sure they will go there, knowing that Gerry's parents are there,'

Marianne shook her head. 'They are away at the moment, have been for a week or so,'

'It's winter,' Michael shrugged. 'They're doing some travelling, not much to do when your farm grows crops, they will have left it with Gerry,'

Erik nodded, 'When are they expected home?'

'Not for another two or three weeks,' Marianne replied. 'They usually stay away until late March, leaving Gerry to plant and watch over the farm until Spring begins,'

'He does a good job,' Charles mused. 'But there is something very strange about him,'

Erik stood, a little too quickly, and had to steady himself against the fireplace.

'I'm not sure you should be rushing out,' Michael sounded concerned and Erik had to wonder how he found so much room in his heart to worry for someone he didn't even know.

'I'm fine now,' Erik assured him. 'Thank you for your help,'

'They gave you quite a beating,' Michael commented, looking him up and down.

'They'll regret that,' Erik said coolly.

Michael stared at him for a long moment, looked into his eyes and then he said, 'I don't doubt that,'

'I have to find her,' He explained. 'I don't know what they'll do to her,'

Michael shrugged his broad shoulders and flashed a small smile. 'No one is stopping you,'

Erik stood still, dry and warm, the pain eased, his head clearing. He sensed the two men didn't agree with what he was doing, they had made it obvious although they hadn't said it. Erik knew that they would not stop him from finding Christine, their silence about it had told him that they understood, but Erik's plans for revenge were what they objected to.

He walked to the door that they had carried him through a little less than an hour ago. He touched his face, checking that his mask was still in place, and for the first time thought it was curious that no one had asked about it.

They were all staring at him now though.

'You look so familiar, Erik' Michael said, as Erik turned his back to them and opened the door.

He looked over his shoulder.

'I think I knew your mother,'

Erik turned. 'You would know it if you knew my mother,'

Michael smiled. 'Yes, the mask does give it away somewhat,'

Charles and Marianne exchanged confused glances behind the older man.

Erik felt a flash of anger inside him but it was subdued quickly when Michael smiled and said, 'I knew your father too, he was a good man,'

'And my mother?'

Michael shrugged. 'Not my place to say... but your father, he was a good man,'

'One might wonder why he married my mother then,'

Michael smiled.

'Thank you again,' Erik said, as he stepped out into the cold night. It was still raining but the water came down in more of a light mist than a thundering downpour. The wind had eased off and Erik was glad of the respite. He looked ahead and saw the woodland, began walking quickly towards it. He was still too weak to run and his legs ached but he felt better, felt awake and, in a strange way, more alive.

He couldn't remember the last time he experienced genuine kindness, particularly from a stranger, and peculiarly, it made him feel better to have met them.

He had walked barely any distance at all when he heard the sound of hooves thudding dirt behind him. He turned, ready to fight, and was greeted by Michael's face shaded by a hat. Michael climbed from his white horse.

'I trust you can ride,' he said, handing the reins over to Erik.

Erik gripped the leather in his hand and nodded.

'Then God speed,'

Erik didn't question the man's motives nor did he ask where to take the horse when he was done. There was no need for this. As he watched Michael's figure fade back into the distance he sighed at the memory of the way he looked at him.

Michael's face appeared back in his thoughts and he saw the resemblance. He didn't remember his father well but he knew that he and Michael looked very alike.

Almost as if they were brothers.