To Those Without Pity

"For I was punished like all who destroy the past for the sake of the future." -Edgar Lee Master

She was dreaming. Yes, there was no question of the fact, for while the room before her was uncharacteristically detailed, something wasn't quite right. There, at the piano, sat a man clad in impeccably tailored eveningwear. He was playing her father's tune delicately on the piano, and instantly she knew it was not Erik. All at once, she seemed to notice the details that screamed Raoul—the head held high, the hair that was both blonde and brown, and the strong arms.

"That's his mother's piano," she breathed, and he stopped immediately before turning around to face her.

"Did you ever notice the uncanny resemblance between the two of you?" he asked easily as he swung his focus to the wal,l where the painting of Erik's mother sat. Yes, this was certainly a dream, for the painting did not reside in the music room, but rather in the room with Erik's mirror contraptions. Nevertheless, she walked up to the painting and studied the careful brushstrokes attentively. When she blinked, the painting changed, and suddenly it was a painting of herself, not his mother—she could tell without a doubt by the youth in her eyes and the rounder jaw line.

"Don't you find that peculiar?" he pressed, and she turned back to him with a warm expression and slight smile.

"No, I don't actually," she replied, satisfied by the brief surprise that flashed across his features. Yes, let him be surprised.

"I haven't heard from you in so long," he said after a beat, perhaps hoping to hide his brief wonderment with a hasty question. Christine merely maintained her simple smile, though it was stained with a touch of remembrance and sorrow.

"You haven't seen me at all, nor have I seen you" she told him, and he frowned immediately. "You're not here." The words were calculated, but peaceful in a way.

His frown faded slightly, while a look she could only identify as triumph overtook his features. "But dreams are as real as anything else. They are in our minds, after all, and all that we know is th—…"

"Is that which we think," she finished for him, staggered at her own curtness. "Please don't try to steal his words—you can't trick me." When he only stared at her in open perplexity, her sharpness melted into regret.

"You love him," he remarked slowly, though his face did not reveal any comprehension of such a statement. "Is that what this is?"

Her first instinct was to remind him of the ball, when he had all but handed her off to Erik. After all, hadn't he just given her permission—warm and resolute permission—to go on living with Erik? She stomped on such an impulse before it could go anywhere, though, for she recognized her foolishness instantly.

"These are dreams," she told him, her words crisp and deliberate. She kept her delicate eyes trained on his as she took several steps closer to him. By the time she spoke again, they were face to face, not inches from one another. "You cannot try to influence me, because you are nothing but a dream. You are not Raoul de Chagny. You are nothing but a figment of my imagination."

"Who is to say that anything outside the confines of our minds is truly real?" he continued quickly, perhaps hoping to snuff her argument.

"Don't you dare say such things. I remember every word he says, and do not presume that I will fail to recognize them coming out of an imposter's mouth!" At this, he took a step towards her, reaching for her hand, but she took a quick step back, her eyes wide.

He didn't blink as he stopped in his tracks and stared back. "An imposter?" he demanded, though his forthrightness did not shake her.

"I loved Raoul de Chagny, but I do not love you. You are a shade of him, a mere echo. And for good or bad, you will no longer haunt me. You will no longer tell me that my actions are right or wrong, and you will no longer sully Raoul's memory."

He gaped at her for some time after those words, and she thought for a moment that he wouldn't leave, that he would refuse her command. But finally, he turned and made his way to the door, opening it ever so slowly before looking back. She almost stopped him in that moment, for the realization of never seeing him again struck her. Yes, if he left that room, wouldn't it be the last time she would ever see an image of him, even if he was merely an imitation? He seemed to answer her thoughts before she could say a word, though.

"You will see him today," he told her, and their eyes met one final time before he crossed the threshold of the door and closed it behind him without hesitation.

"My dear."

The words pulled her out of her dream, and she let out a small gasp of shock before her eyes focused on Erik's. He was leaning over her, and she relaxed as soon as she registered his presence. He stood back up to his full height as she rubbed at her eyes briefly, hoping to eliminate a bit of her drowsiness before she sat up a bit.

"Pardon me for intruding and waking you up so early, but we must go," he told her simply as he clasped his hands behind his back. "I've already prepared a day bag, so as soon as you're dressed, we may go."

Christine searched his eyes for some alarm, some haste that indicated that they were in danger. She found none, though, and she felt her eyebrows furrow in uncertainty. "Where are we going?" she asked as she clutched the blankets against her chest. Whether it was to shield her modesty or conceal her bubbling enthusiasm, she wasn't quite sure.

"Your Christmas present, of course," he said, and she felt her face brighten automatically. Of course Perros was a place of grief, but there was more to it than death. After all, there was such innate beauty in the act of reuniting with her father, even if he had passed through the threshold of death, and her heart raced at the thought.

"I'll meet you downstairs when you're ready," he told her, and she barely caught the hint of a smile that played on his lips as he left, the smile which revealed that bit of pride in having done something right.

As soon as the door was shut behind him, she flew out of bed and threw on a dress. It wasn't until she was tucking pins into her hair, attempting to look somewhat presentable, when the doorbell rang. She stopped immediately as she turned towards the sound in bewilderment. She only took a moment, though, before she grabbed her coat and gloves and treaded to the front hall.

"You are not welcome today," she heard Erik say callously, and she hurried her pace a little until both he and Nadir came into view near the front door.

"Ah, Christine!" Nadir called out as their eyes met. "I thought I would stop by—you don't mind, do you?"

She brought her eyes to Erik, who was clearly seething at his friend's disrespect. "It's not only my house, Monsieur," she murmured as her husband turned his gaze to her. "But I'm sure if Erik knew that I didn't mind…" she began, trailing off as she saw Erik's severe expression lessen slightly. She sent him a reassuring smile for a fleeting moment before she shifted her eyes back to Nadir. "We're going to Perros if you'd like to come. It's not the most cheerful place, but you're welcome if that doesn't bother you."

His smile dropped gradually and he turned to look at Erik abruptly, his eyebrows high in astonishment. "Perros?" he asked, and Erik nodded solemnly. She could see Nadir searching for some reaction from Erik, but when he received none, he turned back to Christine with an amiable smile and a bow of his head. "I would love to come if you would allow it."

Erik's words followed shortly after, sharp yet obliging: "The carriage is outside."

The three trekked out to the gravel drive and entered the carriage silently, Erik and Christine seated on one side while Nadir faced them on the other. To reach Perros, they nearly had to go all the way back to the Palais Garnier, but no one objected.

In fact, they were quite silent from the moment they entered the carriage, though Christine didn't fail to notice the icy glare that Erik was sending his compatriot. When she turned to glance at Nadir, she found that he was meeting his gaze rather agreeably, not showing an ounce of nervousness or unease at Erik's glower. Her focus shifted between them as the carriage lurched forward, but neither would dare break eye contact. She swallowed hard as she inched her gloved hand over to Erik's, grasping it in hers gently. She felt him break focus with Nadir as he looked down at their hands and back up at her for a moment. As their eyes met, she smiled briefly before turning to look out the window, pretending not to see Nadir's careful watch.

There was something about the way the trees passed as the carriage lumbered on, and its inherently gentle rock that always incited fatigue within her. Indeed, before they had even left Boscherville, she found herself leaning against Erik's shoulder, fast asleep. She awoke to the gentle call of her name, and she opened her eyes suddenly to find that the carriage had stopped. Her hand was still intertwined with Erik's, but she could see that they were waiting for her. After murmuring a short apology, she pulled her hand from Erik's and reached for the carriage door before her eyes finally took in their surroundings.

It had been so long since she had last been to Perros, but nothing had changed. She could see the newer graves at the far end of the graveyard, but otherwise, all was just as it had been. She searched her mind for the details of her preceding visit, but what she found made her heart sink. Of course—Erik and Raoul had both been with her on her most recent trip to Perros, though such a meeting had not been her intention. The thought brought a shiver down her spine, but she pushed it back into the recesses of her mind as she stepped out onto the cold earth and began to make her way to her father's grave without waiting for her two companions.

As we stepped out of the carriage behind her, I couldn't help but watch Erik's affectionate stare. Naturally, when he noticed that I had caught him, he replaced it with his signature stony expression and cleared his throat agitatedly.

"What has incited such a change in her?" I asked casually as we began to follow her slowly, making a point to maintain our respectful distance.

"I don't know what you could possibly be talking about," Erik snapped, his eyes remaining trained on her carefully. Meanwhile, she walked vigilantly down the pathway before them with a hand shielding her eyes from the sun, utterly lost in her own world. I didn't respond for several moments, merely observing the sight before me. When she came to a stop before her father's grave, we too stopped at a distance so as not to disturb her.

"Do you see?" I asked finally, my eyes flickering over to her. "The sun hurts her eyes."

"And what of it?" Erik asked sharply, his lips tightening as he failed to restrain his temper. "It hurts my eyes as well," he countered, and I looked at him slowly, a knowing look on my face. He scoffed, though I could see that he understood me. "Please, Daroga, you can't be insinuating that I keep her locked up in the dark, day in and day out. I thought we were beyond that."

Finally, I turned to him full on, Christine now only in my peripheries. "What can you possibly hope will transpire, Erik?" I persisted, the question perfectly genuine. "That you continue to live this pseudo-life with a wife who didn't want to marry you?" I hadn't meant to be cruel, but I could see in his eyes that the words cut him deep.

"Nadir, you are here by Christine's goodwill only. I welcome you because she does, but I will only abide by so much insolence and discourtesy," he hissed, but I shook my head slowly.

"No, I'm not only here by her goodwill," I defied, and I could feel the uncontrolled pity in my eyes. "I am here because you want to prove the validity of this sham to me. You think that if I sanction the life you've created, then the two of you shall live without trouble until the end of your days," I continued with a bit more force, which he did not appreciate.

"I don't give a damn about your approval, and you are deluding yourself if you think I do. This is not Persia, and I do not need you," he bit back, though we both knew that these words weren't completely truthful.

"You're right, Erik," I replied calmly, my eyes moving back to Christine. "This isn't Persia. And here, your actions have consequences." We were silent for several moments, but finally I let the words leave my mouth. "Philippe de Chagny is hunting you down, and until he has you in his grasp, he will not stop."

Erik's fury diminished, and I could feel the unexpected desperation in his eyes as he looked back to Christine as well. Yes, it was clear that no matter what he said, he understood the dire nature of the situation. "Can't you put him off our trail? We can travel somewhere—we can get out of France."

I shook my head gravely, for I knew it would do him no good to hide the truth. "This is not some petty grievance. He is looking for personal retribution against yourself and Christine. It's vengeance he wants, and you more than anybody should know how powerful such a desire can be." He did not deny it, and I sighed mournfully. "We will not get through this without somebodybeing scathed."

It was kind of them to give her space as she reached her father's grave, and as soon as she knelt before the gravestone, she forgot about their presences completely. It was simply her and her father, and she remained there for some time, murmuring soft words to nobody. When she finally stood to move back to them, she instantly noticed their weighty expressions which disappeared the moment they saw her watching.

It wasn't until she was nearly by their sides when Nadir finally spoke to her, his eyes gentle. "I suppose you want to see Raoul's grave?"

Despite the fact that she was looking at Nadir, the first thing she saw was snap of Erik's head as he looked towards Nadir. She blinked several times, speechless, before she looked to Erik, whose eyes were wide and sharp.

"I wasn't aware that he was buried here," she murmured, trying to keep her composure as she turned back to Nadir, whose smile had faded somewhat.

"Oh… I assumed that he was part of the reason you came." Her eyes flickered to the newly dug graves that were at a distance from them, and swallowed uncertainly.

"I would like to see it," she faltered, licking her lips restlessly. "But only if you will come with me," she amended as she looked resolutely at Erik. He seemed momentarily surprised at this, but he finally nodded once in acquiescence.

She could feel Nadir's eyes on them as she held out her hand to Erik and they walked silently towards the new row of gravestones, but she pushed any apprehension she felt behind her. No matter how kind Nadir was, this simply wasn't about him.

They walked mutely down the row, reading the names of the deceased systematically until they found it: Raoul de Chagny. There were no dates or titles on the gravestone, but rather four simple words. Nul flux sans reflux. No flux without reflux, but they both knew what it had come to mean in the French tradition.

"Every flow has its ebb," she murmured under her breath, and she felt herself involuntarily clutch his hand tighter. They didn't say another word and didn't so much as glance back at Nadir, who was standing at a distance, studying them. They remained there until the cold had penetrated her gloves and made her fingers go numb, at which point they began to make their way back to the carriage.

It struck her just how little she felt. Perhaps it was because she had expected a rush of emotion to overtake her, but instead, she felt something different—something deeper and conceivably more resounding, but it was not sharp. And furthermore, whatever that profound emotion was, she knew for a fact that it was not misery, or if it was, certainly not the misery she had once known.

"I wanted to tell you something last night," she said impulsively, her hand still wrapped in his. He looked at her for an instant, but still didn't respond. She waited for several moments, hoping for some indication that he would help her, but when she received no reply, she pressed on shakily. "After what happened," she began, only vaguely aware of Nadir's footsteps behind them. "I wanted to tell you…" She still could not find the words, and finally Erik spoke.

"What?" he implored, though that same stoniness that he always held characterized the words.

"That I love you," she said, as if testing the words on her tongue. He slowed their pace slightly, but did not stop completely as he stared at her in wonder. "I just thought I should tell you," she continued uneasily, making a point of looking down at the ground as she spoke. "What I had meant to say, that is."

When they reached the carriage, she still had not looked back at Erik to register a reaction, but she didn't miss Nadir's. It was unreservedly evident that he had heard her words, because he watched her with the utmost curiosity as they settled in. And Erik seemed to notice this expression of shock as well, for when she finally did sneak a glance, he appeared nothing short of delighted. Whether that was because of her assertion of affection, or because it had seemingly proved Nadir wrong, she wasn't quite sure.

The silence they had shared on the way there was revisited on the trip back, and Christine made a point of focusing her eyes interminably on the passing trees outside their window, even as darkness fell around them. It took a while, but eventually she began to make out the shadows of tree trunks and branches, and she a game of deciphering when they were amidst forests and when they were passing through the outskirts of towns.

The ride seemed infinitely quicker on their return, and before they knew it, the hours had flown by and they were pulling back up into the drive. But even the darkness did not hide the carriage that was parked in front of the house, nor did it conceal the brigade of silhouettes crowded around the front of the house.

"Erik," she breathed, pointing out the window in order to pull his attention to the mysterious figures. She could almost feel his heartbeat quicken, and she swallowed nervously as her eyes darted between them. It didn't help when Nadir also adopted an expression of acute dread, and she threw her focus back out the window so as not to see their worry.

"What have you done?" Erik demanded as he pulled his hand from Christine's so as not to grasp it too strongly, his hands closing into tight fists. She could see his glowing eyes flash in the darkness, and Nadir seemed to lose all footing.

"I—… I didn't—…" he stuttered as he strained his eyes in hopes of discerning their unidentifiable faces.

Briefly, she wondered why they didn't turn around and leave, but before anyone could say another word, a few of the group had migrated to the carriage as it rolled to a stop in front of the house. One of the men, who had a distinctly stern look on his face, knocked on Christine's door hard. She jumped in response, but let out a breath as she felt Erik's hand on her shoulder.

Gradually, they all exited the carriage, and Christine flew to Erik's side as the rest of the group made their way over. Policemen—no other people held themselves with such authority. And just as she made out the face of Philippe de Chagny amongst the crowd, grinning at her, she heard the crisp words of an officer:

"You are under arrest for the murder of the Viscount de Chagny and the kidnapping of Christine Daaé."

I apologize earnestly for the delay in this chapter—as you can see, I had a bit of maneuvering to do here. In that vein, I'm in the midst of a lot of research for the upcoming section of this story, so things will be coming out a bit slower to accommodate. But your reward for waiting is the longest chapter of the story thusfar-please let me know what you think! A lot happened, and I'm so incredibly interested to know all your thoughts! A sincere thank you to all the reviewers—there is no question of the fact that you are what keep my writing. Thank you for reading, and I hope to hear from you!

Until next time,

Christine