Chapter 13: Opera Populaire, Paris, France, 1881
"Christine?"
He fell to his knees and scrambled to her. Erik gently pushed her on her back and gasped as the curls slid away from her face. It was indeed Christine Aminta-Marie Daaé. Her breathing was unsteady and she stared up unseeingly.
His hands shaking, Erik placed his hand on her forehead. It was sickeningly warm to the touch. Her blouse stuck to her neck and throat and her skin was visible underneath. She flinched, causing Erik to jerk back his hand. Christine cried out suddenly.
"Don't leave me here! I'm sorry!"
The damsel shot up once more to the upright position bringing her face inches from Erik's, but she didn't seem to see him. The primary signs of heatstroke assailed Erik's educated psyche. Christine had been in the condemned chamber for who knew how long and was beginning to suffer the effects. He could only imagine the physical and mental strain and disturbing hallucinations she was being plagued by.
"I'm sorry!" She screamed, "I didn't want to go! I didn't want to go!"
"Christine!" The Phantom instinctively grabbed her arms to steady her.
"No! No! Don't leave me!"
"Christine! Look at me!" Erik shouted. Daaé's eyes were still roving, refusing to focus on the man in front of her.
"Look at me!"
Christine gasped and whimpered as Erik shook her, physically demanding her to pay attention.
"Look at me!"
Erik suddenly felt Christine become very limp under his hands and her eyes settled on his face, but not nearly as focused as he would have liked.
"Erik…" Christine's voice was hoarse and weak. She was losing strength, dehydration overpowering her survival instinct.
"I'm here…I'm here…" Erik murmured, not caring whether or not she was sane enough to comprehend that he was really in front of her. He pulled her close to him allowing Christine to press her clammy forehead to his shoulder. He could feel her body trembling beneath him. "Just stay with me… I'll get you out of here."
Erik slid his arm under her knees and brought her entire form into his arms in one smooth motion. He stood up and strode out of the torture chamber.
When Erik reached the lake, his gondola was still floating where he had left it after he had jumped. He plunged into the frigid water, gasping as it hit him. Clenching his teeth in determination, he lifted Lotte's head above water and half-walked, half-swam, towards the black boat. Using all his considerable strength, he hoisted her up above his shoulders into the shallow-bottomed gondola. He pulled himself in after her and snatched the rowing rod that was drifting alongside.
As Erik rowed, Christine remained motionless in the bottom of the gondola, its dark color making her skin appear even more chalky and white. The prow of the boat finally slammed into the stone island and the Phantom lifted Christine into his arms once more. He practically ran through an overhanging curtain into a barely lit room and set her down in the large Swan divan.
Erik hastily grabbed a match and set aflame the rest of the candles in the alcove. Then he bolted out of the room and filled a wooden bowl with clear, cold water.
He knelt beside the oversized divan and pressed the bowl to her colorless lips.
"Drink this, Christine."
Responding to the pressure on her mouth, Christine's lips parted and the refreshing liquid trickled in and down her throat. After a few painful swallows, Christine moaned and turned her head, her eyes still shut and roving beneath their lids in delirium.
Once more, Erik placed his hand her forehead and the heat seared his palm. Grabbing his shirt at the collar, he ripped it and soaked the wad of cloth into the remaining water. He took it and laid it on her forehead, then rubbed down it her neck in an attempt to cool her.
"Erik…Papa…no…don't…Papa, you'll…hurt him…" Christine muttered, her eyes closed and head lolling.
She shivered spastically and sweat flowed like rivers down her skin. Her hands shook and clasped the soft velvet beneath her, the hideous images and memories attacking her sanity. The symptoms of heatstroke refused to recede and her clothing stuck to her skin and trapped the sweat and warmth on her body.
"Don't take me Papa…let me stay…I can't…leave..."
"Stay with me Christine," Erik found himself pleading, "Please…"
Antoinette sucked in her breath as the underground lake's chill breeze blasted her. As soon as she pushed open the sliding mirror, the candle in her hand flickered, reflecting how her hopes of shielding Christine were abruptly fading.
'Did you honestly think you could hide her? He knows everything…'
Hours had passed in futile searching and the burden of her lie began to weigh heavily. Soon the guilt was so severe, the Madame was positively certain that he knew that she was here. That only left one option as to where and why Lotte had disappeared.
The seasoned ballet mistress shuddered. If Christine had in fact crossed paths with him…she could only hope she could bear what awaited her below the opera house.
"Our Father, which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven…"
The young woman's shaking voice echoed quietly in the empty dance foyer. All her fellow ballerinas were elsewhere and as soon as she was alone, Meg had broken down into pleading with all of heaven.
It had gotten chaotic far too soon. Christine had just arrived…this couldn't be happening. She could not have been brought back to them only to be whisked away so suddenly.
'You and your mother are being selfish…Erik has every right to see her, same as you…'
"But it's not the same!" She found herself verbally replying. "It's too soon. Christine can't possible know all that's going on and after what Mother told her she has to be so confused! Mon dieu, who knows what has happened!"
"Meg?"
Young Giry spun around at the sound of her name reverberating across the room. "Raoul!"
The young Vicomte stood in the open doorway, his usually twinkling eyes clouded over with seriousness.
"Raoul, what are you still doing here?"
"I was looking for you." De Chagny replied, "Meg, I'm…concerned. You and your mother both seemed preoccupied about something."
"Preoccupied? I…I am not sure what you are talking about…"
"Don't deny it."
Raoul strode over to the young woman immediately placing his hands on her forearms. The man's grip was gentle but persistent, his countenance visibly worried.
"I saw how you both acted when I ran into your mother in the hall…what aren't you telling me?"
Meg's mind reeled from Raoul's sudden presence. She felt cramped, trapped, caught red-handed in a scheme that was unraveling too fast too quickly.
"I-I can't..." She breathed, turning from Raoul's penetrating gaze shamefully.
Raoul put two fingers under Meg's chin forcing her to look him straight in the eyes.
"Meg, I heard you."
Young Giry gasped. 'No!' "Raoul-"
"Where is my cousin?"
Bringing down her body temperature was priority and Erik became all too aware of how her thick clothing was trapping her body heat.
Wincing inwardly at the circumstances he found himself in, Erik quickly unbuttoned Lotte's blouse then slipped off her shoes and wool stockings. The grey woolen skirt, its underskirt and petticoats came off next and with it, a very red color to Erik's cheeks. He managed to focus his gaze back on Christine's face, silently thanking God for the muslin chemise she was wearing. He wasn't about to take that off. But the corset was restricting her already heavy breathing…
"Erik…"
"I'm here, Christine."
He tried once more to pour water down her throat before Christine squirmed away from him again. He refilled the basin and continued to soak Christine's face and neck, until she went back to murmuring incomprehensibly.
That brought him back to the problem of the corset. Heavy breathing had become severe gasps and moans had become rough wheezing.
Erik paused in hesitation before muttering a damning curse on every dressmaker in Paris. Gently pushing Christine onto her side, he entwined his fingers into the laces weaved into the back of the corset.
'Whoever's brilliant idea it was to crush a woman's ribs until they suffocate should burn in…'
A loud gasp broke into his thoughts. The Phantom of the Opera immediately turned towards the open archway of the alcove; coming into direct eye contact was Madame Antoinette Giry.
The Madame had braved traps, the treacherous lake, and the imminent threat of insanity to confront him. Never in all her wildest dreams, had she expected a shirtless Erik and a very much undressed Christine Daaé to be her awaiting doom in the lair. Antoinette tried very hard not to faint out of complete and miserable shock.
"What…what have you done?"
"Antoinette, I can explain."
The man's apparent calm and guileless expression made Giry focus into a furious state akin to a demon's tirade. The Madame stepped forward and slapped Erik across the mouth with a force of punch from a man twice her strength.
"Explain? How can you further shame me? I have obeyed your every whim so you can take Christine down to your wretched dungeon to commit this unforgivable act of—"
"Madame I have done no such thing." Erik quietly cut in. Blood crept from the corner of his mouth, but his features held no malice. Surprising even himself, his passionate emotions were in his absolute control. He knew what it appeared to be, yet he knew what was happening. He would not make the situation worse by reacting like a madman. "This is not what it looks like."
"How dare you lie to me!"Antoinette raised her hand to strike him again but Erik firmly grasped her wrist.
"Madame," Erik's voice remained quiet, but the intensity of his green eyes showed his patience was wearing thin. "Your frustration is understandable, but believe me when I say I have done nothing to shame Christine."
Erik, lowering his voice, leaned forward towards Antoinette. "And believe me when I say I will not allow you to strike me again."
Madame Giry met the man's harsh gaze with her own icy glare her breathing labored with anger.
"You expect me to forgive you so blindly? You are a fool to think I would ever trust another word uttered from your mouth."
Before the Phantom could retort, Christine shifted in her delirium and screamed.
"No! Papa! Papa! STOP!"
Antoinette immediately pushed past Erik and rushed to the girl's side.
"Christine?" The woman shook her, but Christine writhed away.
"No! You killed him! You killed him!"
Christine's eyes opened blindly, gasping and crying aloud. Shocking both Erik and Antoinette, she struck out violently, trying to hit invisible torments.
"Erik! Erik! Don't go!"
Giry gripped her shoulders firmly and forced her back down. Christine cried out again trying to loosen herself from the woman's tight hold.
"Erik hold her down!"
Not hesitating, the Phantom grabbed the girl's ankles. Immediately, Christine let out an ear-piercing scream. Erik looked down and inhaled sharply.
"What are you doing?" Antoinette shouted.
"Her right ankle is twisted awkwardly. I think it's broken." He replied weakly, his shock evident.
Antoinette narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth to curtly inquire how that happened, but Christine's tossing made her bite back her harsh words.
"There is nothing we can do about it now. We must calm her down before she hurts herself further." Madame Giry muttered, "Hold her still until she stops thrashing. She is already beginning to tire."
Erik nodded numbly, carefully keeping his right hand on Christine's upper leg. Sure enough, Daaé moaned and collapsed weak from dehydration and exhaustion. The Madame murmured soothing words under her breath, stroking Christine's forehead until she remained relatively motionless.
"She burns with fever." Giry commented, trying to pry answers from the musical genius without pummeling him to the ground in rage.
"She fell." Erik curtly replied.
"Pardon?"
The Phantom sighed. He was treading in very hot water with Antoinette's temper on the rise. His short, vague retorts were not helping the situation.
"She fell into the mirror chamber."
If glares could murder, Erik would have been dead instantly. "She fell or did you lock her in there?"
"Why would I do that?" He snapped back defensively.
"You've done it before. Christine would have been another victim to encourage this gory masquerade of your Opera Ghost alias."
"Do you think I am so insecure? Trust me; my masquerade, as you put it, needs no further encouragement, Antoinette. I have made sure of it."
Antoinette attempted to calm herself before she said something she would regret. She wiped the sweat from Lotte's brow gently before she spoke again.
"Your blind pride will be your downfall."
"Your blind compassion is yours." Erik retorted without hesitation. He rose to his full height turning to leave the room. "If you hadn't brought me here, none of this would be happening."
The Madame did not reply.
"She's here? In Paris? "
The young woman nodded. Raoul cursed loudly. The secret was out.
"Why didn't you tell me Marguerite?"
"I couldn't," Meg answered, "Lotte asked to keep her presence a secret."
The Vicomte ran his hand through his thick hair, muttering to himself in French.
"When did she arrive?" He finally asked shortly.
"Yesterday afternoon during rehearsals. You had just left when I saw my mother sobbing with her."
"I missed her? How could I not have seen her?" Raoul asked himself incredulously.
Meg wanted to roll her eyes despite the tense circumstances. Raoul could be so theatrical at times.
"You were busy with the managers and alluring the cast members."
Young de Chagny raised a quizzical eyebrow. "You make that sound as if I was committing a crime. What's wrong with being charming?"
"Nothing. I was just pointing out it was easy for you to not notice Lotte. All the attention directed to your person must have been distracting."
Raoul frowned deeply, catching Meg's none to subtle reprimand. "Don't try to change the subject. This isn't about me."
"When isn't it?"
"What is that supposed to mean?"
Meg's tolerance suddenly disappeared. "Do you ever think about anyone other than yourself? Do you ever wonder why Christine doesn't want to see you? You are practically responsible for her going to Marseille!"
"I was trying to protect her!" Raoul bit back.
"You were trying to protect yourself! You couldn't stand the fact Christine trusted Erik more than she trusted her own family."
"That boy was dangerous, Meg and you know it. Christine was too young to realize that socializing with an illegitimate cur was damaging her already tarnished reputation!"
"A nine year old girl doesn't have a reputation. She was a child!"
"She was a misled child whose mentors' parenting skills were severely lacking."
"I never saw your family step in. My mother did what your family refused to do!"
"Daaé was a thorn in the family's side after my mother died. Gustave needed to go! Erik was simply a tool, a catalyst to set the explosion in motion. The Count put me up to it. I had to make my uncle angry enough to leave Paris."
"And Lotte? How could you have ripped away the only stability she had ever known?"
"I regret what I did to her more than anything, Meg, but Erik was a disease to an already poisoned family. He had to be rid of." Raoul snorted in disgust. "But obviously I have failed. Erik is still here terrorizing my opera house."
At Meg's astonished look, Raoul continued to speak.
"I am not a superstitious man, Meg, but it is a different matter when there are rumors of a 'ghost' living under the opera house. I know Erik is the Phantom. Your mother no doubt still protects him."
"Has not my mother the right to associate with whom she will?" Meg snapped defensively, "Erik happens to mean a lot to the both of us. And Christine."
"No need to bark, mademoiselle. I know full well how much you love our dear ghost. That is not what I am interested in. What is Christine doing here?"
Meg smirked, not willing to give in. "Visiting."
"For God's sake woman, must I dance in circles with you? We both know Gustave would not let Christine visit Paris."
"You're one to talk as if you cared! All this inquiry has naught a lick to do with Lotte and everything to do with your pride!"
"Are you insinuating I am proud to have this burden upon me? Do you honestly think I wanted my accursed uncle to take Christine to the blasted coast? I told you I was trying protecting her!"
"From a deformed boy with a temper as his only vice?" Meg questioned, "He was her meilleur ami! He would have never hurt her!"
"How would you know?"
"Because I took the time to know him!"
Raoul shook his head. "And doing so has made you just as misguided as my cousin. How can you continue to defend their relationship, Meg? It is not enough that the Madame took in the boy? Did she have to allow him to associate with Lotte?"
A tense, weighty silence hung between the two young people.
Giry finally spoke. "I truly don't know how to respond to you, Raoul. I have always thought of you as a brother but your views regarding Lotte are…harsh."
"The truth is so."
Raoul averted his gaze from Meg's, but he did not leave the ballet foyer. After several moments, Marguerite sighed.
'Mother, please find Christine soon…Erik is not the only one we have to worry about…'
It was going to be a long night.
A/N: Just to avert any confusion, Raoul has seen Lotte during the ten year period she lived in Marseille. Also, if you read between the lines, you can tell that Raoul holds a bit of a grudge against Antoinette for the whole thing.