To Those Without Pity

"Perhaps I'm rushing in where angels fear to tread." -Peter Nichols, "A Day in the Death of Joe Egg"

"Objection, your honor, that is an inflammatory statement!" was the first thing she heard as Nadir stood up rapidly. But the words could barely be heard over the flurry of conversation that arose between the jurors and amongst the onlookers, each person trying to speak over the other. She looked around the room in a panic, her mind reeling, but all she could see were sidelong looks of shock and pity and disgust. It wasn't until the judge began to hammer away with his gavel when her eyes finally fell on Erik.

But he wasn't looking at her. He wasn't even glaring at Philippe, who was taking in the chaos he had aroused with a triumphant smile on his face. Rather, he was looking down at his shackled hands, remorseful for an act he never committed.

"He never did anything of the sort," she finally shouted out over the gavel and the chatter of the spectators. They finally quieted down and every eye turned back to her—even Erik's eyes lifted from his hands. She met his stare momentarily, but was only met with a neutral expression that revealed nothing. With fierce determination, she shifted her gaze back to Philippe, who was observing her with pointed curiosity.

"He has never made sexual advances towards you?" Philippe challenged deftly, his eyebrows shooting up.

"No," Christine replied firmly, her jaw set in fortitude as she looked back out at the doubtful spectators.

"Even after you were married?" he continued on daringly, and she shook her head once more, though she couldn't stop the blush that rose on her cheeks.

"I…" she began, looking down at her hands to avoid the countless stares that were directed at her. "I told him that I wasn't prepared for that, and he complied," she said quietly, doing everything she could to quell her embarrassment at having to speak of such things.

"Do you consider your marriage valid, then?" he asked, his voice suddenly cut with faint condescension, almost as if he were talking to a young child.

She looked up at this point and vaguely wondered why Nadir wasn't making some objection—surely this wasn't relevant. But after several moments of silence, though, she found that she had no choice but to answer. "I do."

"This may sound asinine, Mademoiselle, but can you see how your current marriage could shed a negative light on your relationship with the Viscount?" he queried, and though his face was perfectly serious, she could see the hidden smile that resided on his lips.

"I'm not sure I understand the question," she said slowly, making a point to maintain eye contact with him.

"Who is to say that you and your husband didn't plan this murder in order to pursue your marriage?" he asked, and when she didn't answer, he obliged her by continuing on. "Clause 59 state that "the accomplices of a crime or a delict shall be punished with the same penalty as the principles in the commission of such crime or delict, except where the law may otherwise direct." She blinked once, and he took a step closer to her, his eyes flaming with malicious exhilaration. "Do you consider yourself an accomplice?"

"This is not the trial of Christine Daaé."

Philippe turned around quickly and every eye moved to Erik, who was sitting just as calmly as ever behind the defendant's table. There was no fury in his gaze, no rage coursing through his limbs, and his expression was serene as ever. Even the judge, Christine noticed, appeared quietly stunned by Erik's comment and made no objection.

Finally, Philippe turned around, his lips pursed in aggravation. "No more questions, your honor," he said sharply, though his eyes were trained with deadly precision on Christine. It wasn't until Nadir had stood up and moved around his table when Philippe finally broke his stare and sat back down in his own chair. It was difficult for her not to watch him as he leaned back in his seat victoriously, hands folded neatly in his lap, but when Nadir finally stood before her, she managed to avert her gaze.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Daaé," he said, a genuinely warm smile coming to his face that gave Christine cause for rest. She let out an involuntary sigh of relief and smiled back.

"Good afternoon."

"I would like to start with your relationship with the accused. You say you married him shortly after the incident," Nadir said calmly, to which Christine nodded.

"Yes, I did."

"And when did he bring you to Rouen—"steal you," as the Count has put it?" he continued on, preempting Philippe's objection with his addendum.

"After the marriage ceremony was performed," she said slowly, doing all she could to keep her eyes from darting towards the jury.

"After? That certainly solves that problem—clause 357 states, "in case the seducer shall have married the girl whom he has stolen, he can only be prosecuted, upon the complaint of those persons who, by the Code Napoleon, have the right of requiring such a marriage to be declared void; and he can only be condemned when the marriage has been declared void." Nadir's smile widened and Christine visibly relaxed, though she could still feel her heartbeat quickening in elation.

"Objection!" Philippe called out, and her focus snapped to him, her thrill turning to alarm. "The marriage should be declared void, given it was never consummated!" She could see that he was trying to remain calm, yet he still couldn't hide his anger at being outwitted.

"Monsieur le Count, a marriage doesn't need to be consummated to be legal in France. One must only sign the contracts—which you did, Miss Daaé, am I correct?" Nadir said evenly, turning back to Christine with raised eyebrows.

"Correct," she replied rapidly, and a wave of murmurs crossed over the courtroom.

"Overruled, Monsieur de Chagny," the judge said in a clipped tone.

"Therefore, I believe the kidnapping accusation becomes wholly irrelevant, given the current nature of your relationship." He paused for a moment and waited for courtroom to fall silent once again. "Now on the accusation of murder—or assassination, as your prosecution has deemed it—can you tell me a bit more about the sequence of events that night?"

"Yes," she replied, looking down at her hands momentarily as she recalled the night's proceedings. "As I said, Erik brought me down…to his home," she said with difficulty, looking back up to Nadir. "And I hadn't a clue what he was going to do. And I asked him what he would do to me, and he said he would never hurt me." At this, she brought her eyes to Erik's for a moment, but his remained, as always, impassive. "And I said that I would stay with him," she finished, looking back to Nadir.

"And how did Raoul find himself in the picture?" he asked as he cocked his head to one side slightly.

It took her a moment to recall when, precisely, he had arrived, and how. "He swam across the lake," she said finally, nodding to herself. "He was drenched in water, and he broke into the house somehow."

"He broke into the house?" he repeated, raising his eyebrows. "How do you know that?"

"Well…" she said slowly, fiddling with the fabric of her dress nervously. "Erik was always very stringent about security precautions. He would never keep a door open or unlocked thoughtlessly. The fact that Raoul found his way in without being hurt was a shock in and of itself."

"Interesting," Nadir said with a slow nod, as if considering the statement. "Because you see, the Penal Code also states that if homicide has been committed during the night in one's home, or because one's residence has been broken into, the homicide is deemed self-defense, which is not punishable by death." The words were spoken with perfect clarity, and she couldn't keep her jaw from dropping in astonishment as murmurs broke out across the courtroom. She could feel Philippe seething behind Nadir, but she kept her eyes trained on the Persian with determination as he continued. "Raoul entered at night, am I correct?"

"Yes, he did," Christine said carefully as she looked to Philippe, who looked about ready to explode.

"And he broke into Erik's home, is that also correct?" Nadir continued on, a smile lingering on his face.

"Yes, that is correct," she replied, returning the smile gently.

"Objection, your honor! That assumes facts not in evidence!" Philippe shouted, standing up in a rush as he looked desperately to the judge, who merely turned his eyes to Nadir.

"I suppose that's why we called in Miss Daaé here as a witness, hm? To provide her account of the event?" Nadir commented simply, turning to Philippe with an expectant look.

"But how can she be trusted, if—" Philippe continued heatedly, at which point Nadir held up a hand to silence him.

"I believe you've had your turn, Monsieur," he said cordially, no hint of malice in his tone.

"Overruled," the judge commanded before turning his eyes back to Christine.

"Christine, is there anything more you'd like to say to the court?" Nadir asked, his eyes focused penetratingly on her. Make your case, his eyes seemed to say to her. Convince them. She took a moment to gather a breath, her heart beating out of control within the confines of her chest.

"I loved the man who was killed that night, and I couldn't express the torment I feel for his loss, even if I tried," she said gradually as she looked out at the courtroom, trying to meet as many of those intent eyes as she could. "But my husband sits before me," she continued, her gaze falling on Erik with sudden serenity. "And I love him, and I just want him to be safe."

She paused for a beat, unexpectedly aware of how ardently the courtroom was hanging on her words. "I am not trying to manipulate you or force you into believing some twisted lie. I am merely a wife, and he is merely my husband." Silence rang through the room one again, and she looked out to the sea of people. "I will never forget Raoul, but I tell you all candidly that I couldn't bear to lose Erik."

"Objection, your honor, is this really necessary?" Philippe asked in exasperation, clearly not moved by her words. Christine looked to Nadir, but he was still smiling kindly, unbothered by Philippe's outburst.

"Withdrawn," he said, his tone smooth and quietly proud, clearly aware that what was said could never be unsaid. "No more questions, your honor."

She was led off of the stand and they had a short recess. For a moment Christine thought she might actually be allowed to speak to Erik, but he was led out before she had a chance. No one dared to say a word as she sat down amongst the chairs facing the judge, and people neglected to sit near her when they all came back to watch the remainder of the trial. She didn't seem to notice, though, and only waited for Erik to be led back in to face the next witnesses.

Several men were called from the medical examiner's office, all testifying to the nature of the wound, verifying that it was not self-inflicted. Previous patrons of the Palais Garnier were called to confirm Erik's haunting, and ballerinas were called to tell of how often Christine had disappeared. She sat in silence, wondering what the point of all of this was, and how this all related to the matter of a murder. But when a Philippe's proud voice called Madame Giry to the stand, it all seemed to make sense. The trial had come down to whether or not the wound was inflicted due to self defense, and Philippe was doing all he could to mold the image of a depraved killer who had shot to kill in a jealous rage.

This whole elaborate charade had come down to a simple test of character.

Madame Giry looked just the same as she always had, though she didn't look once to Christine as she walked with stately grace down the aisle and up to the witness stand. It was clear that she had no desire to be in this room, but Christine knew all too well that she hadn't a choice in the matter. But somewhere behind her unchanged looks, there was a certain fatigue in her movements and weariness in her eyes that hadn't been there when they had last spoken. But then, their last meeting before Don Juan seemed lifetimes ago.

"Please state your name," Philippe said once she had spoken her oath, and Christine's focus snapped back to the woman who sat before her.

"Antoinette Giry," she said in the clipped tone that was so characteristic of her.

"And can you tell us your role at the Palais Garnier?" he continued on, looking down at the ground, lying in wait.

"I was in charge of the corps de ballet," she obliged, her lips pursed. "And I managed the patron's boxes during my time off."

"Were you employed by anyone other than the managers of the Palais Garnier?" he asked curtly, his eyes drifting up to hers expectantly.

Although her sharp and stony features revealed nothing, she paused in hesitation before she responded. "I was employed by Erik."

"In what capacity?" he asked in that overly pleasant tone that made Christine's hair stand on end. Still, she watched as Madame Giry's eyes shifted towards Erik's figure for a moment before falling back on Philippe.

"I delivered his letters," she stated finally, her lips still set in a thin line of discontent.

"That's all?" Philippe took a step forward, cocking his head to the side.

"That's all," she replied, her eyes narrowing in annoyance.

"Very well," he muttered, and Christine glanced over at Nadir who seemed pleased with her response. If Philippe had wanted her to admit to being a conspirator of some sort, she certainly wasn't going to oblige him with such information. "When did you leave the Palais Garnier?"

"I left on the night of Don Juan," she told him.

"Before or after the Viscount was murdered?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I couldn't possibly know at what point, in relation to my departure, he had died," she snapped, to which Philippe clearly looked taken aback.

"Fair enough," he said, clearing his throat in hopes regaining his footing. "Could you tell us why you left that night?"

"I was concerned," were her blunt words, and the Count squared his shoulders as he looked at her, his confidence mounting.

"You were concerned about your safety?" he clarified, but she merely cocked an eyebrow, nearly smirking at the question.

"No," she said after a moment, looking down at her hands in subtle amusement.

Philippe stopped, his jaw slackening in confusion. "I believe you told me in our interview that you were concerned for your safety," he stuttered in a rushed voice.

"It was not my safety I was concerned about," she said easily, her focus shifting back to Philippe, who relaxed once again.

"You were concerned for Christine's?" he asked assertively, but she shook her head once again.

"No, of course not. She was safer with Erik than she ever was at the Palais Garnier." It was at this moment when she finally made eye contact with Christine, even smiling a bit before she looked back to Philippe.

"Who were you concerned for? Your daughter?" Philippe's uncertainty was clear, as was that of the spectators.

"I was concerned for Erik," she told him, her eyes softening.

"Pardon?" Philippe stammered, turning back to his table as he began to shuffle through papers hurriedly. "I really believe I have in the transcript of your interview that you stated—" he said frantically, but she stopped him.

"I was concerned that some cruel and vindictive fool like youwould come along and try to make him into something that he is not," she said in a clear and effortless tone, her eyes locked with shameless honesty on Philippe as he turned back to her, his mouth gaping. "I was concerned that a monster like you would try to convince the world that the genius who sits before us is a disgraceful human being. But he is not," she said, her eyes turning to Erik's smoothly, sparkling with esteem. "He is an old soul who has only ever wanted someone to acknowledge and value his existence."

Philippe swallowed, his eyes darting between the judge and the jury, who were staring with open mouths and wide eyes at Madame Giry. "O-Objection to the witness' response," the Count faltered, unable to hide his failure. "The witness continued to speak on matters irrelevant to the question."

She merely smiled at this, and before the judge could respond, she looked over to the jury warmly and murmured, "Forget I said it." But there was no forgetting the words that had left her mouth. Philippe didn't find it necessary to ask any more questions after that, and walked sheepishly back to his seat. He buried his eyes in the papers on his desk, hoping to escape the humiliation that had just occurred. Perhaps he was hopeful that Nadir would give him a few moments to recover as he asked Madame Giry his own questions, but he merely smiled at the woman appreciatively before he told the judge that he had no questions for her.

And so, as she was led off the witness stand, Philippe was forced to stand up once again and call his next witness. He took a moment to stack his papers neatly once again before he approached the stand stiffly, his eyes locked on the judge.

"I would like to call Erik to the stand."

Leave it to Antoinette to put Philippe in his place. I expect there to be one more chapter in the courtroom—I hope you're not all bored out of your minds, but c'mon, Erik's up, so you know it's going to be fun! Thank you so much to all my reviewers, new and old. I can't express how much it means to hear your thoughts, so please let me know what you think!

Until next time,

Christine