In Blood by LovetheScottishAngel

Author's Note: Thanks to liebedero and littlegirl94 for putting this story on their alert list. I'd also like to thank The Duelist's Heiress, IAmTheMaskYouWear, liebedero, and frayahhh for reviewing. (Yay reviews! They make me happy.)

And now, without further ado…

~ o ~

When Marielle awakened, she was greeted by the complete darkness and utter silence of her bedroom. Upon looking at the clock on her wall, she saw that it was 10:15 at night.

It was 10:15 at night… but of what night? She had no idea how long she'd been unconscious; she didn't know if it was the evening immediately following the Comte's attack on her or if she'd been out for a day or more.

Letting out a sigh and rubbing her eyes as she stretched a little, she tried to recall what had occurred during the recent past.

The Comte had dragged her down to the kitchen, forcing an entire bottle of chardonnay down her throat so that the child that had barely begun to grow within her would die. About halfway through downing the bottle, she'd lost all her senses; everything after that point was a black space in her mind.

She imagined, however, that the Comte had gotten her to finish the bottle—and it was more than obvious that she'd passed out at some point after that. She just couldn't remember what had happened between the time in which she'd finished the bottle and the time at which she'd lost consciousness—assuming, of course, that anything had happened at all.

Fuzzy images which had come into her vision as she'd faded in and out and consciousness in the aftermath began to run through her mind. Jeanette screaming for the deChagnys as she apparently discovered Marielle's unconscious form… the Comtesse looking panicked as the Comte feigned surprise… Dr. Beaufort telling Marielle that she would be all right… vomit she expelled in an attempt to rid herself of the alcohol which had been forced into her system…

And blood…. an abundance of blood… coming from her, alongside a tiny mass of flesh that Dr. Beaufort collected and, in some way or another, discarded… the child which she had carried for so short a time.

Her vision blurred as tears suddenly flooded her eyes, and she began to let out small, gasping sobs as the realization that she'd lost her unborn child fully hit her. Admittedly, the prospect of bringing new life into the world had been one which had made her anxious—terrified her, even. But in the short time that she'd known she was pregnant, she'd come to accept that she would be a mother, something which the Comtesse had described as one of the most fulfilling experiences a woman could ever have… something which the Comte had stolen from her.

Once several minutes had passed, Marielle ceased her crying with a deep, shuddering intake of breath and a somewhat loud sniffle. Then she wiped the tears from her face and eyes, sitting up straight in bed with an air of sudden determination about her.

She could no longer stay at the Château deChagny. The events which had just come to pass had been the first of their kind, but she suddenly had the revelation that if she stayed, those events likely wouldn't be the last of their nature. If she remained with the deChagny family, her life would become a miserable cycle of sexual abuse, pregnancy cut short by some vicious method, tears, pain, and fear. And she felt that if she kept herself in that cycle, it wouldn't be too terribly long before she would choose to free herself from it by ending her life…

But she didn't want to die—especially not when she was just barely an adult, especially not by her own hand. And so she had to escape the Château without any hesitation whatsoever; she felt that if she allowed herself to stay for even an hour longer, she would never leave.

There was one important question which hung above her head, however—if she left the Château deChagny, where would she go? She didn't know anyone in the outside world; she held no ties with someone who didn't have some kind of the connection with the deChagny family.

Oh, but don't you? a voice whispered in her head. You have a blood tie with someone who's entirely outside the deChagny circle… a very important blood tie, as it happens.

Marielle drew in her breath sharply as she realized that the voice was correct. For in all the world which lay beyond the Château's walls, there was one person she knew of with whom she shared an important familial bond, despite the fact that she was entirely certain he didn't know about it, despite the fact that she'd never before encountered him…

She could go to her father.

But he's a criminal, she then thought, biting her lip in a gesture of doubt and anxiety. He's a murderer, an extortionist, and a rapist… and really, that's all that the Comte knows he's done; for all I know, he's committed more crimes than those! I shouldn't be attempting to keep any company with someone like him.

You fool! the voice in her head hissed with frustration. Look at where you are, look at how your life is… look at what the Comte just put you through; think about everything he's ever done to you up to this point! You know it will all happen again if you stay. I thought you wanted to break away from all this misery…?

As Marielle took a deep breath, she realized that the voice was right once more. The man named Erik was indeed a criminal... but maybe, if he met her and came to know her, he wouldn't be quite so terrible after all. Perhaps the knowledge that he had a daughter would make him be a better man…

Even if her theory was flawed, however, she knew that most anythingsimply had to be better than staying at the Château and being subjected to more of the Comte's abuse… even being in the presence of her law-breaking father.

I'll find him, she thought with determination as she rose to her feet and walked over to the armoire, picking up her mask and placing it on her face. Then she began to simultaneously dress and pack, putting on one of the black dresses she owned alongside a set of undergarments, a pair of stockings, and her shoes while placing the other articles of clothing she had in a carpetbag. He's apparently a rather elusive man, but I'm sure it won't be too difficult to track him down… I'll just have to find out more about him before I begin my search.

Upon putting all her clothes into her carpetbag, she then collected what other worldly possessions she owned, the few that there were—a small sewing kit, a tattered copy of Les Misérables, and a somewhat-unattractive locket.

Marielle briefly paused as she held the locket in her hand, looking at it solemnly for several moments before opening it to reveal that the inside of the locket held a miniature painting of a beautiful red rose. This was a gift which Pierre deChagny, the Comte's father, had given her for her fifteenth birthday, the last one she'd had before he'd passed away.

She could recall how she'd felt somewhat hurt and confused when Pierre had first presented her with the locket, not understanding why he'd given her something which wasn't very lovely when he'd always been so kind to her. He'd quickly explained himself, however.

"The exterior makes little difference, chérie," he'd said to her, speaking in a tone which was nearly a whisper, as if telling her a secret. He'd then opened the locket and allowed her to see the painting of the rose, and she'd gasped a little in surprise upon seeing its beauty. "It is what is on the inside that truly counts."

Once he'd said those words, she'd known that he had given her the locket to prove a point—she'd understood that he wasn't really speaking in reference to the locket; rather, he was talking about her.

"If the ugliest human being to ever live on this Earth has the kindest heart the world has ever seen, he isn't really the ugliest human; he is, in fact, the most beautiful of all," he'd told her then, taking one of her hands in his free hand and placing the locket in it. Then he'd used both his hands to close her hand around the locket, causing it to press into her palm, and looked at her, his bright blue eyes meeting her grey-green ones. "Remember that, Marielle. Always remember that."

Marielle had promised to remember his words—and in the time which had passed since that day, she'd kept that promise without fail despite the fact that it had occasionally been enormously difficult to do so. Any time she started thinking about how unattractive she was due to her deformity, she recalled what he'd said to her and knew that he'd spoken the truth. It was only because of Pierre that her heart wasn't hardened by bitterness; it was only thanks to him that she always tried to be kind to others even when they treated her harshly… and he was the only reason that she hadn't drowned in the black sea of self-loathing.

For several moments more, she examined the locket in silence, and then she unhooked the clasp which held the chain together and slipped the locket around her neck. Then she put it together in the back, lightly brushing her fingers against it as she proceeded to place her book and sewing kit in her carpetbag and close the bag.

She then picked up her nearby cloak, a hand-me-down which she'd received from the Comtesse. She'd never understood why her mother had given the cloak to her; after all, she shouldn't have ever had need of a cloak, seeing as how she'd been instructed to never leave the Château. Now that she was escaping from her terrible situation, however, the cloak would be most useful in protecting her from all manner of weather. She wrapped the cloak around her shoulders, putting together the single button which went slightly under her chin, and then pulled the hood over her head.

This is it, she thought to herself then, taking a deep breath as her heart began to pound. I'm leaving the Château and never coming back; I'm going to see what the world is like away from here…

A lump rose in Marielle's throat, but she swallowed it down with ease as she picked up her carpetbag and walked over to the window. Setting the carpetbag's handles on her arm so that they rested in the crook of her elbow, she unlocked the window and grasped the bottom with both hands, softly grunting with effort as she pulled up. After several moments, the window gave way to her force, lifting with a shhhhhh sound.

Cool outdoor air blew into her room, and she gasped a little at the sensation of feeling such a thing on her face for the first time. An unfamiliar, but not unpleasant, smell—this must be what the outdoors smell like, she realized—filled her nostrils, and she took a deep breath, reveling in it.

Adrenaline rushed through her as she suddenly began to feel excited about what she was about to do, and she took a deep breath in an attempt to calm the ever-quickening pace of her heart. She then turned her head and took one final look around the room that she'd occupied all throughout her twenty years of life—the only home she'd ever known.

"Goodbye," she murmured quietly to the room, as if it something in it would respond. "Goodbye."

Then, without another word, she turned her attention back to the window and the world which lay just outside it, waiting for her to explore it. And with a clearing of her throat, she moved forward and climbed out the window, crouching on the small section of the roof which rested just below the window as she closed the window.

Marielle then scooted forward, going carefully so she wouldn't lose her balance, until she reached the edge of the roof. At that point, she turned herself around so that she was almost looking into her old bedroom, slowly sliding her hands down until they touched the gutter. Then she began to cautiously move herself backward, gripping the gutter tightly. Her heart briefly stopped when she just barely slid off the roof the rest of the way, putting her in such a position that the only thing which prevented her from falling was her hold on the gutter.

For several moments, she continued to hang off the edge of the roof as she looked around to see what her next move might be. Upon seeing that there wasn't something else nearby that she could hold onto so she might just climb down, she realized that she was going to have to just let go of the gutter and allow herself to drop to the ground.

She peered backwards over her shoulder and down, and her stomach started doing backflips as she saw the notable distance between the ground and herself. A lump rose in her throat.

Well… she thought, swallowing hard as she did so, if I die, at least then the Comte still won't be able to do anything more to me. But I won't die; I'll be all right… I just need to take a deep breath and count to three… and then let go.

Heeding her own mental advice, she took a deep breath in order to steel her nerves, silently telling herself that there was no need for her to be concerned, that she would be all right, that she'd been through so much worse than the situation in which she currently found herself and survived, that she would get to meet the man who had fathered her soon enough. And then, after a slow and silent count to three, she released her grip on the gutter.

By what Marielle could only deem to be a miracle, she landed on her feet without any subsequent injury, stumbling backwards a few steps before managing to regain her balance. Adrenaline raced through her body once more; her fall had been nervewracking yet exciting… and the fact that she'd had as good as landing as she had made it all the more thrilling!

Once she'd breathed in and out deeply several times in order to slow the racing of her heart, she adjusted her carpetbag so that she then had her hand wrapped around the handles. And then, after giving one final look to the Château deChagny, she turned and walked away, heading for the place where she felt certain she would be able to find some answers about her father…

The Opera Populaire.

No one had ever come to Marielle and explicitly told her that Erik had been The Phantom of the Opera when the Comte and Comtesse deChagny had first known him, but from the few times in which her mother had discussed him, she'd gathered that such had, in fact, been the case. And any Parisian of even moderate intelligence, though they may have otherwise been deemed ignorant of the world around them (and Marielle placed herself in this category), knew that the Opera Ghost had made his home in the bowels of the Opera Populaire.

Granted, Marielle didn't know for certain that there would be any evidence that her father had ever lived beneath the Opera; for all she knew, he himself had destroyed all proof of his occupancy years ago. But she didn't know of anywhere else to even begin searching for clues as to what his current whereabouts might be, so she really had no choice but to go to the Opera and hope that there was still something, anything, which might point her in Erik's direction.

It didn't take her a lot of time to reach the Opera, and upon seeing the magnificent exterior of the building which both her parents had once called home, she let out a long breath of awe. Admittedly, the fact that she'd just left the Château deChagny for the first time prevented her from having seen any other buildings in person, but she knew that the Opera Populaire was the most beautiful building she had ever seen—and she felt certain that it was the most beautiful building she would ever see in her entire lifetime.

Clearing her throat as she remembered her purpose, she moved forward, seeing that some of the boards which took the place of a door that had once been there had, at one point or another, been removed. She thus crouched in front of that door, sticking her carpetbag through the space and then following the bag, sliding between the still-nailed-on boards and inside the Opera.

Darkness completely surrounded her as she rose to feet, and she shivered at the prospect of wandering through an unfamiliar building in a completely blind fashion. She didn't really have a choice, however; it wasn't as if she was going to wait until daylight to continue her journey. She was determined to find Erik's residence that very night regardless of how long it might take her.

Swallowing hard and gaining some courage, she moved forward, making her way through the lobby. Her eyesight eventually adjusted to the darkness, allowing her to see the general shapes of items surrounding her. After a short time, she reached the auditorium and then, from there, backstage.

Upon reaching backstage, Marielle didn't really know how to proceed. She didn't know where the Comtesse's old dressing room was—and even if she had known, she wasn't sure that there was actually a way to gain access to her father's underground home from that point.

Feeling somewhat stupid and silently wishing that the Comtesse had let some more information about the Opera Populaire slip over the years, she moved toward the backmost part of the backstage, where the dressing rooms were, deciding that she would at least try finding her mother's old dressing room. And if she found it, she would then see if there was any way to reach the Opera's bowels from there.

After she'd taken only two or three steps, a soft click sound reached her ears—and then, all of a sudden, the part of the floor on which she stood gave way beneath her, proving itself to be a trapdoor. With a scream, she fell down, down, down…

"Oof!" she grunted a bit as she abruptly landed on a hard surface on her back, the wind momentarily getting knocked out of her. Upon gaining clarity of vision several moments later, she saw that she was surrounded by a rather large number of mirrors.

What is this place? she wondered as she sat up straight, looking around and seeing many different versions of her dark reflection. A room that has nothing in it… whose walls are composed solely of mirrors…

Marielle quit pondering upon the room she was in, however, when she saw that there was actually a way out of the room—for there, to her left, there was a section of the room which contained a door. The door was open, and a soft golden light which came from outside was entering the mirrored room through it.

She rose to her feet, picking up her carpetbag and then walking out of the mirrored room. And when she saw what lay beyond the room where she'd just been, she gasped and her heart began to pound wildly.

The most beautiful fortress she had ever seen awaited her. Candles, a few of which were lit, could be found throughout the whole of the area. From what she could see, this underground kingdom contained a kitchen and a golden peacock bed with deep red bedding on it and a black curtain surrounding it—at least, those were two items which she recognized; there were two other peculiar-looking objects which she'd never seen before.

It made no difference to her that she didn't know what those two unusual-looking items were, however, because she did know where she was. Without a doubt, she'd accomplished her goal; she'd found Erik's home beneath the Opera.

"Wow," she murmured with awe, setting down her carpetbag and venturing further into the place where her father had once lived. She took in the sight of a miniature model of the Opera's auditorium, multiple drawings and paintings of a younger Comtesse deChagny, pieces of paper that were scattered all about the floor and on various pieces of furniture, some of which was blank and some of which were marked with different words and some markings which were unfamiliar to her.

Frowning a little, Marielle picked up one of the pieces of paper which had those strange markings on them, reading the words which had been written at the top of the paper.

"Don Juan," she read out loud, raising her visible eyebrow. Her eyes traveled further down the page and examined the curious markings. All the way down the page, there were multiple sets of four lines which had been drawn horizontally. Between those lines, and sometimes on them, were what appeared to be dots with lines attached to them. Some of the dots had been filled in while others hadn't. Arches had been drawn to apparently attach some of these unusual dots together.

After looking at the markings for several moments and still not understanding what they were, she shrugged a little and placed the page atop one of the objects which she hadn't recognized earlier. This object was black, shiny, and rather sizable, and upon running her hand along it for a moment, she felt that it was rather smooth, leading her to believe that it was probably wood with a glossy finish. It had an unusual shape which she couldn't particularly describe and looked almost as if it was composed of two major parts. One portion was hollowed-out and held rather thick-looking cords inside, while the other was held up by what appeared to be a rod and which appeared as if it would be a top for the first portion if the rod was removed. At the front of this item were black and white blocks which, she discovered by just barely brushing her fingers against some of them, were smooth to the touch.

Marielle then glanced over to the other unfamiliar object, which appeared to be composed of a very large chunk of intricately-carved wood and pipes which issued from the wood and ran up the wall behind it. Like the object she'd just been examining, this item had different blocks on it. After a moment, she decided that she wasn't even going to attempt to discover what that object might be; it was too puzzling to her.

What strange things, she thought to herself, sighing a little as she looked around the lair once more.

Her eyes then fell on more pieces of paper—pieces of paper which had several different drawings on each of them. They appeared to be pictures of buildings.

Squatting down a bit, she took hold of the papers and examined them, discovering after several moments that the drawings were building designs. From what she could tell, they were rather attractive buildings, leading her to come to the conclusion that her father was a rather talented architect.

"A criminal and an architect rolled into one," she said softly, scanning the pages for a few moments more before making to fold them up so they would be more portable and she might hold onto them. Before she was able to do so, however, some writing at the bottom-right corner of one of the pages caught her attention.

After looking at the writing for a moment or two, she found that it was a signature—E. Tourneau.

"Tourneau," she murmured, the name rolling off her tongue with ease. "Erik Tourneau… his surname is Tourneau."

Well, that means my surname is Tourneau, she realized immediately after saying that. Strange… I've never thought about having a surname; no one's ever called me by anything other than my first name unless they were calling me "girl" or something to that effect. I suppose I thought I didn't have one… but I do. I do!

"Marielle Tourneau," she then said aloud, testing the name. "Marielle Tourneau."

It felt somewhat unusual to be attaching a surname to her first name… and yet, at the same time, it sounded right.

"Hello," she murmured, acting as if she was introducing herself to someone. "My name is Marielle Tourneau."

Upon saying those words, a foreign feeling of giddiness suddenly went through her, and she let out a little giggle before gasping and clapping a hand over her mouth as if she expected someone to reprimand her for making any sounds which indicated happiness, excitement, or any other positive emotion.

After a moment, however, no such event occurred, and she removed her hand from her mouth and smiled as her newly-discovered full name ran through her brain.

Marielle Tourneau, Marielle Tourneau, Marielle Tourneau… my name is Marielle Tourneau.

For a few moments more, she remained squatted on the floor, but then she folded up her father's building designs and held onto them as she rose to her feet. Then she resumed looking around the lair, still trying to unearth new information about Erik.

Before too long, Marielle discovered a rather large chest which had a lock on it. Upon taking hold of the lock and lightly tugging on it, she found that the lock wasn't just for show; her father didn't want anyone getting to whatever the chest contained. She felt as if she needed to look inside, however, because for all she knew, whatever the chest held would help lead her to Erik.

"Hmm," she murmured thoughtfully as she straightened herself slightly, looking around the lair. "If I hid a key… where would I hide it?"

Her eyes fell upon the second strange-looking object that her father owned, the item which she had previously decided to avoid because she didn't feel as if she had any hope of figuring out what it was.

Perhaps that's why he has that thing, she thought to herself. Maybe he doesn't even really know what it is, but he got it and hid the key there because he didn't think anyone who might come here would go near it because they wouldn't know what it is.

Deciding to test her theory, she walked over to the unusual object and examined it for several moments, then placed her hand under the section which held up the black and white blocks. She ran her hand along that bottom panel until her fingers caught on something cool and hard, at which point a black key fell to the floor with a soft clattering sound.

A smile crossed Marielle's features as she momentarily bent over and picked up the key, returning to the chest and inserting the key into the lock. She turned the key until the shackle came undone and the lock opened. Then she pulled the lock off the chest, setting it on the floor and then lifting the chest's lid. To her utter astonishment, she was greeted by a great deal of paper money.

"Oh, my," she breathed softly, a hand going to her throat at the sight. She'd never seen so many francs in one place… the amount her eyes were beholding would certainly buy all her worldly possessions at least twenty times over!

She reached out a hand to pick up some of the bills, but hesitated when she was about halfway to the chest. It didn't feel right to be taking her father's money without his knowledge… although, judging by the fact that he was an extortionist, some of this money probably wasn't his to give in the first place.

But I don't have any money of my own, she thought to herself, biting the inside of her cheek in a gesture of uncertainty. I don't have any way of getting to wherever he might be… if I walked, it would take me a very long time to get to him… and depending on where he is, I might not be able to walk the whole way even if I began to do so. Taking the train or a ship, if I had to cross an ocean, is certainly the best method of transport. But I can't afford a train or ship ticket on my own. I could stow away, but that would be illegal… and I'd get in a lot of trouble if I got caught.

For several moments more, she struggled between the moral questionability of taking Erik's money without his permission and the indubitable necessity for money as her hand remained halfway reached out to the chest. Then, however, she extended her hand the rest of the way and began picking up several sizable wads of francs.

Marielle took as many bills as she could fit into both hands, then walked over to her carpetbag and placed the money in it. Then, after repeating this process several times, she returned to the chest one final time to close it, replace the lock, and put the key back in its hiding spot.

I'll pay him back later, she decided as she straightened herself and let out a little sigh. After all, I'm eventually going to have to find some stable employment in order to support myself… I'm sure I won't be able to pay back the whole amount I've taken all at one time, but eventually I will pay him back entirely.

She then walked over to the strange-looking black object, for she saw that there were several sizable stacks of paper resting on it and the bench which was situated in front of it. Now that she'd gathered the financial means to travel to wherever Erik might be, she needed to discover his possible location. Surely, amongst all those papers, she would find something which would help her find out such a thing…

After seating herself on an open portion of the bench, Marielle picked up the stack of papers which was closest to her, beginning to sift through all the papers one by one to see what was on each of them. Most of them were papers with those unusual markings on them, while the rest were more building designs.

Upon finding nothing useful in that first stack of papers, she moved on to another set—and upon looking at the page which was at the very top of this pile, she found that, at one point or another, Erik had written a list upon it.

London
Dublin
Amsterdam
Rome
Madrid
Athens
Brussels
Prague
Vienna
Stockholm
Copenhagen
Moscow

Based on the fact that she recognized the names London, Rome, and Stockholm, Marielle gathered that this was a list of different cities. She didn't know where the cities she didn't recognize were located, but upon glancing at what had been resting underneath this list in the stack of papers she'd been examining, she saw that such wasn't an issue—for there, now at the very top of the pile, was a folded map.

She picked up the map, opening it up and briefly scanning it. From there, she discovered that Erik had written the names of cities which were all situated in various parts of Europe—or, in the case of London and Dublin, in England or Ireland.

I suppose these are all places where he wanted to go, she mused to herself. I certainly hope that's what this list is—otherwise, I don't know how I'm going to even begin finding him. So I'll use this list as my guide; I'll make my way down the whole of it until I find him. And if he's not in one of these cities, well… I'll have to figure out another way to locate him.

After studying the map for a bit longer, she found that the French town of Le Havre appeared to be the town which was closest to the ocean. She would thus take the train from Paris to Le Havre… and from there, she would board a ship and cross the English Channel, docking in Southampton and then taking another train to her first destination—London.

Marielle then let out a rather long yawn, and she rubbed her eyes and, upon glancing at a clock which was situated atop that curious black object, found that it was nearly midnight. She hadn't been awake for very long, but she supposed that all she'd been through recently, as well as the monumental event of her departure from the Château deChagny, had made her tired.

Briefly running a hand through her hair, she picked up the clock and walked over to her carpetbag. She picked it up as well, sticking the list and the map in it while then heading for the peacock bed. She sat on the edge of bed as she placed her bag and the clock down, removing her cloak, shoes, and stockings and then tucking herself in, pulling the covers over her body as she lay down.

Tomorrow I'll begin my travels, she thought to herself as she let out another yawn, closing her eyes and feeling her body relax. London… I hope it's as interesting of a city as I've heard it is.

Soon thereafter, she fell asleep, dreaming of trains, ships, and an older man who wore a mask as she did.

~ o ~

Author's Note: If you don't know what the "two peculiar-looking objects" Marielle saw in the lair were, ask me in a review or PM and I'll let you know.