Author's Note: Sorry not sorry, guys. Got this chapter plus one more before we really start getting down to business. And don't you worry, our version of Erik will be coming along soon. Work schedule should be calming soon... then I may take more time to sit outside of cafes and stuff to write. Let's cross fingers!

- Phantom's angel

Le Fantôme et L'ange

Chapter Five

Swing

Raoul opened the letter addressed to him the moment it fell into his possession. The delicate writing and lack of a seal hinted to the origins of the note, but as he unfolded the parchment and looked immediately to the bottom, he confirmed that it was indeed from the stranger Christine of Knivsta. Despite the feelings the town had seemed to form for Christine, Raoul was quite fond of her. Perhaps it was his understanding of her situation which waived any hostility toward her, but as he read the quickly written letter, he pitied her even more. Even in her penmanship, he could hear her plea for help and acceptance.

The note fell to Raoul's side as he thought on the people of Perros and their habit of building up a story's fictitious side. The same had happened upon the death of his brother's wife. There was little pity for the widower, but mere stories which circulated around the town, pining allegation on how it all happened. Even now, any villager would not hold their breath to give their opinion on the matter if it were brought up in conversation. It was the nature of the small town, so secluded from the rest of the kingdom of Trégor, just as it is the nature of mankind to thrive off gossip.

The note weighed inside of Raoul's hand, reminding him of the appointment requested of him. He held onto the note longingly, gripping it now to his heart in pained disappointment. If only he had never permitted Christine to take part in the story begging to begin with. Then he would not feel so guilty for the poor girl's plight.

Raoul checked the location once more before tucking the note into his coat and quickening his pace into the mid-day sun outside of his comfortable home. He needed no direction to the Daaé cottage. He knew all too well how to get there.

Beneath the shade of a tree sat Christine, swinging back and forth on a swing she seemed to have created herself. Her eyes were cast downward and her hair hung around the sides of her face, hiding her eyes and shielding her from seeing Raoul as he approached. He heard a heavy sigh come from her lips before she caught sight of him nearing her from her side.

"Oh," she cried out from surprise.

She dug her bare feet into the dirt and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Raoul held out a hand, urging her to remain seated.

"I did not expect you to receive my note so quickly," Christine said.

"I came as soon as I read it," Raoul said.

Christine looked about herself and then her eyes laid back on Raoul's. He could see a moisture building up behind them, holding back the troubles she'd endured since la Toussaint. Raoul hadn't seen her since their departure at the bottom of the hill, but it was clear to see she'd been confronted by people curious to her sighting. He too was confronted by townspeople, but even in his attempts to defend Christine, everybody longed to know what she saw and what it all meant.

The rumor was spread in many ways. Some were correct while others were as far fetched as to say that Christine had conjured the korrigan herself. It was no wonder the weight of her new home was pressing on her so. Raoul made a point to continue trying to spread their own story, despite the town's refusing to acknowledge it. The fearful was more compelling to them; it fueled them and stirred them all to question and wonder, giving a thrill in their mundane lives.

But Christine looked so sad.

"Your brother came yesterday," Christine said, still looking at her feet.

Raoul knew his brother would act on the situation. He was actually surprised it took him so long, really. But the look of pain in Christine's eyes made him uneasy.

"Why did it take him so long to confront this?" Christine asked.

"I-I am unsure," Raoul replied. "But surely the time from having to speak to my brother was good to gather your thoughts?"

"I suppose so," Christine said quietly.

Her eyes were locked on something in the dirt.

Raoul looked down with her, trying to see what she saw; trying to understand her thoughts. His feet were firmly planted on the ground while hers dangled in the air, brushing past each other as her largest toe struggled to reach what Raoul's full soles could. Raoul turned himself to take a seat beside her on the wooden seat. She scooted sideways, allowing him the extra space as he cupped his hands in his lap and looked down to his shoes. He dug his feet in the dirt and pressed against the ground, teetering both of them back on the swing. They rocked backwards, urging Christine to grab the rope holding her suspended from the tree. Christine tried to hold back her smile, turning her head away from Raoul and lowering her eyes. He suppressed a laugh, lifting his feet from the ground to allow them to swing back forward again.

The swing rocked back and forth without aid as they sat together. Raoul thought of how simple the stranger from the north was, putting aside the stories surrounding her here in Perros. Christine was nothing more than any other townsperson, but the misfortune of her first night amongst his people made her something far more than she truly was. Raoul wished to wash all of the lies away for her; to clear the pallet Trégor and Perros has painted for her and start her anew.

"Do you think I can communicate with the spirits?" Christine asked.

Raoul's feet slid across the ground. A cloud of dust billowed up around them as he stared at his companion anomalously. Removing himself from the swing's seat, he kneeled before Christine and placed his hands on her knee.

"You should not wish for such things," Raoul said urgently, lowering his voice as he spoke.

"I never would," Christine said. "But perhaps I can?"

"Impossible," Raoul countered immediately. "You only saw a korrigan; that does not mean you possess such a dark power."

"But the korrigan I saw was so far away; impossible for me to be able to communicate with. Could it at least be possible?"

"Surely you would know about something like this," Raoul said. "Surely, you would have encountered it before…"

"We have no spirits of this kind in Knivsta," Christine said. "The closest we have to your kind of spirits are called spöken, but they are fearful of humans and only wander near their graves; nobody ever comes across them. There would be no way to know if I could communicate with a spirit unless I cross one here."

"We do not interact with the spirits here either," Raoul said.

"What if somebody here wanted to interact with them?" Christine asked.

Raoul took in a quick breath of air.

"I think that would be very dangerous, Christine," he said solemnly.

Christine sighed and looked out toward the woods, wondering distantly is she would be able to see a spirit passing by if she gazed long enough. She wondered what a ghoul or a fantôme would look like compared to the korrigan she had already seen. What beauty would they posses? What could any of these spirits teach those in Perros? How could any of these be different than the ones she heard stories of from Knivsta?

"I would not care for such contact with them," Christine said. "No since yesterday…"

"You must remove these thoughts," Raoul warned.

"I think Philippe is trying to communicate with them," Christine stated.

Raoul tensed, clenching his fists within his hands. He stood abruptly and rubbed the back of his neck in bewildered thought. He turned to stare at Christine.

"That is a bold thing to say," Raoul said rather coldly. "Why would you believe such a thing of my brother?"

"Forgive me," Christine said "I do not mean to intrude. But your brother seemed quite interested in my ability to hear spirits in his appointment with me yesterday."

"He must have simply asked to better understand the situation at hand," Raoul said defiantly.

"He said it would be a convenient talent," Christine said with a harsh undertone.

"Perhaps it could be," Raoul said thoughtfully.

Christine paused, leaning closer toward him to better see into his eyes with the afternoon sun turning orange around them. He did not waver in his stare back, for he was genuinely interested in the possibility to know what a spirit would have to say, rather than having ill intent in his comment.

Christine retreated.

"Raoul, I think there is something going on here," she said uneasily.

"And you believe Philippe is doing ill?" Raoul asked with disappointment.

"He has not been keen of me since my arrival here in Perros," Christine said. "Now he wants to know all of this about me? It doesn't seem right. I think he is interested in communicating with the spirits himself."

"I cannot believe that is what is going on," Raoul said quietly, urging her to follow his tone.

"Perhaps," Christine said.

Raoul sighed.

"Christine, I have enjoyed spending time with you since your arrival in Perros. But this… I cannot continue to support you if this continues. I know you are trying to understand what happened that night on the hill – and I want to help you – but making acquisitions will not help the matter at all."

Christine frowned at Raoul, wanting to throw him the cruelest of words she could think of, yet she held her tongue. Her fingers unlaced from the swing's ropes and crossed over her chest in defense. It seemed all was lost in the small hope she once briefly had in having a friend in the matter, but she knew she could not blame him. Raoul was now between his brother and a new friend with this scandal, and it was only right for him to quietly assume position with Philippe. Her eyes grew soft again, no longer able to blame Raoul for the dissatisfaction she felt. Whether Philippe was playing poorly or not, she could not let her sentiments trouble his cause.

Uncrossing her arms from her chest, Christine bit her lip and looked up to Raoul again.

"You are right, Raoul," she said. "I cannot look to others for blame."

"Precisely," Raoul agreed.

"I simply must continue on my own."

"What? No, Christine, you do not need to do anything," Raoul protested. "Just because you saw a korrigan does not mean you should condemn yourself to go searching for them!"

"But it must mean something," Christine said.

"Spirits are all around these woods," Raoul said. "In all of the stories and all of the lore, that is all that has ever been told; we have learned to live amongst them."

"If that is so, then why is your brother so intent on conversing with them?" Christine shot back.

"We do not know that is what he wants to do," Raoul said.

"But he and the rest of the town are terrified of the prospects of someone having seen a spirit. If you have all learned to live amongst them, then why are they so fearful? Ever since I have seen one, I have received nothing but whispers and cruel stares. Now your brother is demanding this information from me which I cannot honestly answer. I think it is quite clear that I must do something."

Raoul stared back at Christine in astonishment. He could hardly decide if it was her forwardness which astounded him into a lack of speech or if he truly could not father a counter argument. He felt bad for this girl who he instantly felt a friendship with, wishing he could change this horrible situation for her. But her request was too personal. Her needs now conflicted too much with Raoul's family interests.

"Your silence confirms my motivation," Christine said defiantly.

Raoul held his hands up to calm the girl.

"I will always be willing to offer you any help I can," he said. "But you must remember my place in this town and my obligation to it. And my family."

"I do not intend to trouble your position," Christine said as kind as possible. "But I do hope you can know when to look outside of the confines of Perros and your family name."

Christine then stood from the swing and looked up into Raoul's eyes. She searched within them, trying to find a hint of realization inside. They were wide with shock, the full of the brown showing against the whites, shining with understanding and new thought. Christine concealed her clever smile and turned away from her companion, walking out from the shade of the tree, letting the swing rock behind her. She quickened her pace as she crossed the land her papa and she worked to prepare, until she made it to the back porch, disappearing from sight completely. Perhaps, in the future, Raoul could come to be of greater help to her. In the mean time, she was on her own.

Comments and critique greatly appreciated :)