Erik
I do not recall how I made it back to my home. I had done so with the assistance of Madame Giry, of course, but all I had been thinking on was Christine. I was using the thought of her to relieve my mind of the pain, both physical and psychological, to relieve my mind of everything. It was only once we had arrived back in my home that it began to overcome me.
Madame Giry helped me to the same bed that had been my prison for the past few days, but this time upon lying down I felt no relief. No sense of accomplishment. No ease whatsoever. For the last time I had been helped into this bed, Christine had been with me. But she was gone, and until I recovered I could do little about that. Perhaps I could do little about it either way.
As soon as Madame Giry had lowered me onto the bed, she stood up and looked at me.
"You will see her again." She said sternly, smoothing her skirts as she spoke.
"Perhaps." I replied, not meeting her gaze. "…In chains."
"We do not know that!" She snapped. "Come. We have to see to your wounds… where is the…"
"The needle is here, by the bed. Everything is just where Christine left it when she returned from seeing you earl…" I looked down. "When she returned earlier." I said softly. Was it the same day? A different day? Who knew?
"Alright." She replied tenderly. She was a stern woman, but she was treating me differently due to my new fragility. As she sat down I unbuttoned my shirt, or what was left of my shirt. That boy practically owed me an entire wardrobe by now. This was the second dress shirt he had destroyed and my dress shirts did not come cheap.
I turned away, disinterested as she inspected the slash across my chest. Ordinarily I might have been perturbed by her closeness and the easy, domestic carelessness with which she was treating me. Tonight I could not care. I was slightly uneasy about it but my mind was on other things like how I would even begin to make my way back to Christine.
"You don't have to…" I offered.
"They have both stopped bleeding thankfully." She spoke, ignoring my words. "How are you feeling now?"
I scoffed.
"I mean the pain." She said irritably.
"I am aware." I said softly. "There is pain."
She nodded.
"Well, your chest will not need stitches." She began. I knew that it wouldn't. I had had enough wounds to know what would heal itself and what would not. "…but I shall have to clean it." She continued. "Alright?"
I nodded, still not meeting her gaze.
"Have you any Iodine?" She asked, searching through the miscellaneous items Christine had left by the bed. I shook my head. She clicked her tongue irritably and continued searching for a few moments, before picking up an item and holding it out before me.
"Carbolic acid?" She asked.
I nodded.
"I have some iodine in my quarters, it would be less painful… or at least that is what Meg tells me. I could…"
"The acid will suffice, Madame."
"Are you sure…?"
"It does not matter!" I snapped.
She huffed.
"Erik, there is no need for that! I know that you are upset but…"
"Upset? Upset?! I am angry! I am filled with a murderous rage, Madame! And you know better than anyone the result of that rage!" Was I tempting her? Challenging her? I did not know.
"Is that a threat?" She asked.
I took a deep breath.
"No." I brought my hand to my head in frustration. "No, it is not."
She offered an empathetic nod before unscrewing the cap of the bottle in her hand.
"Do you have a rag or something I might use to…"
"Just pour it on."
She laughed nervously.
"Just pour it on." I repeated. "I need to heal as quickly as possible, correct?"
"You are making this easy for me." She smirked. I knew that she was referring to my attitude, but I could not change that. Not when I was in so much pain and not when Christine was so far away from me.
"Ready?" She asked.
"Yes."
With that she poured the liquid over my torso and I was met with the same blinding pain I had experienced upon Christine completing the same action. I grasped the sheets beneath me and grimaced deeply but I did not cry out. As much as this woman had done for me, she was not Christine and I could not entirely be myself around her, could not entirely let my guard down. There was still a very real barrier between us. I could feel it when she was near me, could hear it when she spoke to me, could see it in her eyes. Perhaps with time spent together that would change. But though she was one of the few people who knew me as Erik, to her, I was still very much the Phantom of the Opera.
"I thought you might lose consciousness." She mused.
I shook my head dejectedly. I could imagine how pathetic it might have looked…
She cleaned the wound on my chest and bandaged it without a word before moving to my stab wound, now – open once more.
"Thank you." I said. She looked up at me in surprise.
"You're welcome…" She said hesitantly.
"You sound shocked." I remarked, watching her as she prepared the needle.
"I am not..."
"You are." I argued, a smile hinting at my lips. "I may lack common social skills… perhaps even sanity, but for reasons unbeknownst to me I do possess common courtesy. Although God knows… nothing of courtesy is common in this world."
She scoffed.
"Yes, well. Christine had to have seen something in you after all." She looked up at me with a sly smile that told me not to take offense.
"Oh, yes. She must have fallen in love with me due to my perfect manners!"
Madame Giry laughed, but I did not. Too taken was I with what I had just said aloud. I had just spoken of Christine's love for me. It was the first time I had voiced it. It felt wonderful and I could not help but look down and smile. I felt my cheeks redden. I was sure that Madame Giry was able to see it because as I looked up, I saw that a knowing smile had spread across her lips.
I felt a slight sting as the needle entered my flesh.
"I will do everything in my power to assist you." She began as she tied off the first stitch. "To assist the both of you."
I nodded gratefully.
When she finished stitching and sewing my wound, she afforded me fresh bandages and a clean shirt. It felt heavenly, but I could find no rest. I could find no comfort.
"I cannot stand to simply sit here when I know where she is." I began.
"I know." She nodded. "…but unfortunately, any action you take must wait a few days. It would be better not to be imprisoned with such injuries."
I looked up at her, questioning her with my gaze as she left my bedside and began what almost seemed like tidying…
"Are you mocking me? How can you jest...?"
"I am! You frustrate me! I know very well what choice you are going to make, what option is more appealing to you!"
"Madame, another cage does not exactly appeal to me." I eyed her as she continued to pick my clothes up off the floor… With a grimace, I sat up slightly. "What are you doing?!"
"Tidying! This place is a mess!" She gestured haphazardly about the cavern. "And no! But Christine's happiness does appeal to you, and you would sooner accept your fate in a prison cell than actually take the time to think on your options! You need to think about yourself as well as Christine Daae!"
I stared at her then, my fists clenching beneath my sheets. My temper was rising. If she did not support me then she could leave. How dare she speak Christine's name with such disdain!
"Christine Daae is in this position because of me!" I retorted. "I thank you for all you have done for me, and I will continue to say that because it is a debt I will never be able to repay… but know this; if you are going to tell me to forget Christine then…"
"You headstrong man!" She huffed, throwing my clothes back down on the floor where they belonged. "No, I am not telling you to forget Christine! She is a daughter to me. You know that! I am saying that before you go marching to Raoul's estate, demanding her freedom and sacrificing yourself, you should consider your own! That does not mean giving up! That does not mean giving her up! It means thinking things through! Can't you see that I care about you also? Do you think I wish to see you behind bars again after all this time? After everything?"
I stared at her then, mouth slightly agape. Her gaze met mine. I had not expected such declarations of friendship, of loyalty.
She took a breath, smoothed her dress and once more retrieved my clothes from the floor. "Consider this…"
"Please, don't tidy." I reasoned, forgetting the brief moment we had shared. I disliked the idea of someone sifting through my belongings almost as much as I disliked being treated like an incompetent child. My clothes were on the floor because that was where I wanted them to be.
She gave me a stern look before continuing.
"Consider this… For the moment, you need not panic. Christine is in a safe place. I do not think that he would hurt her. Do you?"
"No, but he would use her to hurt me, and I do not wish to think on what that could mean."
"Perhaps you need to. You must think of these things before taking any action at all. If you wish to have a life with Christine, you must consider all your options. Know every outcome. That is still what you want, is it not?"
"Of course it is, but I cannot see it anymore." I looked down at my hands. "I know of the outcomes. Either I end up in chains, or Christine does… A future for one of us is definite and I want it to be hers."
"And what hope does Christine have?" She asked, suddenly rounding on me.
"What?" I asked, looking up.
"This defeatist attitude is not helping her, Erik. It is not helping you heal faster. It is not allowing Raoul to come to his senses. You are achieving nothing with that state of mind."
"Defeatist? It is called being a realist, Madame and I am well acquainted with it."
"We all are, Erik. We have all suffered."
I wanted to protest. I wanted to leap out of bed and tear her down with stories of my past and my unfortunate allotment in life… but I knew that I would be doing it simply to hurt her. She did not deserve any more pain. She too had suffered. She had spoken little of it to me, but I knew. Her love had been taken from her, and that pain I knew only too well. Her husband had been taken from her at the height of their love, leaving her alone in this cold city to fend for herself, and to look after their only daughter. Madame Giry had worked for everything she owned and every skill she possessed and she had achieved it all through a time of unspeakable grief.
Yes… we had all suffered.
"Alright." I began softly. "I apologise." I wasn't exactly sure what I was apologising for, but I knew that it was warranted. The woman before me nodded curtly before approaching me and sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Christine will be thinking of you at this very moment, Erik. She will be depending upon you to make it right."
That's the hardest part.
"I know." I met her gaze, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. "So then a plan is needed, is it not?"
Christine
"You need not worry." Raoul's voice spoke from within the darkness of the carriage. At least he had had the decency to sit away from me, on the other side of the vehicle. "You are in no danger with me."
His words were almost enveloped by the thick silence we had been sitting in for some time. We had not spoken since leaving the Opera house and the darkness surrounding us only served to make the silence even less bearable. Albeit, it was better than hearing Raoul's poor excuses and hollow apologies but sitting there in that carriage, forcefully separated from Erik… I had never felt more alone.
"Please do not speak to me." I said numbly.
"Christine…" He began, his voice sounding up beat; apparently overjoyed at eliciting an actual response from me. "I only mean to say that I would not hurt you. You need not be afraid."
"I am not afraid." I replied. "I am angry. I am furious. I have never felt more hate for anyone than I do for you at this moment, and if you are sated with that, then I am happy for you but please leave me out of it." I took a breath before peering out into the dark streets as the carriage trundled along. "I want as little to do with you as possible." I added softly.
"Little Lotte, please. You know me…"
"Do not call me that. I do not know you. I do not understand you. Your actions are not rational and they do not in the slightest, reflect love of any sort." I met his gaze. "You are lost to me now and if you go through with this plan of yours, I shall never forgive you."
Raoul made to speak before changing his mind and shifting uncomfortably where he sat. After a few moments, he took a laboured breath and sat back in his seat. It was just as well, for I could not have stomached any more of his words at that moment… any more of him. I was sickened by what he had become and what he aimed to do, and I was heartbroken. The only feelings I had left inside of me were hate, sadness, and a deep yearning for the prospect of seeing Erik again; the prospect of him fixing this. He would fix it. I knew he would. He had never failed me before…
I wanted to know where Raoul was taking me… what he planned to do with me.
After another ten minutes or so the carriage stopped. I peered out of the window to see a lavish estate, the boundary of which was a large set of wrought iron gates. These gates displayed a very familiar set of letters.
De Chagny
He had taken me to his home. I had expected worse, but somehow it made me feel terrible all the same. As though I were somehow betraying Erik by sleeping under another man's roof, entering another man's gates, sleeping in his sheets. At least a prison would have been neutral ground. Of course, Erik would understand that I was not undertaking any of this by choice and with any luck he would come to my rescue at some point over the coming days, but all the same I found myself apologising under my breath.
I'm sorry, Erik. I'm sorry.
I gazed up at the moon as men, who I assumed were part of Raoul's staff opened the gates before us. I wondered… hoped that at that moment Erik was somehow staring at the very same moon and thinking of me. I soon reminded myself that such a thing was impossible; Erik would not be above ground at this time. He would not see the sky where he was and thanks to me, he might never see the sky again.
Erik
"Erik, there is something I think we must discuss." Madame Giry began as she sat down by my bedside and handed me a steaming, rather appetising bowl of soup. It was the next morning, and though I had been adamant about not needing sleep, after an hour or so I succumbed to exhaustion. I knew that depriving myself of sleep would not help Christine, and I knew very well that I needed the rest. I did not know what lay in store for me…
"Oh?" I replied. "Is it a confession about this soup? Because I fear that nothing could deter me from this meal… irrespective of what spices you may have actually used…" I brought the bowl to my nose and inhaled, eyeing her in an attempt to evoke a reaction.
"I made what I could with what was here, which was not much!"
I laughed.
"I jest, Madame. I am very appreciative of this."
"You ought to be." She sneered, though I could see that she had found humour in our little exchange.
"Will you not eat?"
"Not at the moment." She replied.
I frowned.
"Alright… Well what is it that you wish to discuss?" I asked as I tasted the soup. Immediately my body felt warmer, I felt more alive and once more aflush with hope, and although I knew it had nothing to do with the soup I could not help but continue to devour it with renewed energy. Madame Giry smiled.
"This is quite wonderful." I said in between mouthfuls of the tasty substance. "Meg is fortunate to have you for a mother."
I saw her visibly wince at the mention of her daughter's name.
"Yes." She spoke distantly. "Perhaps. That was… what I wished to discuss with you…"
"Meg." I nodded, setting the bowl down in my lap.
"Here, let me take that." She took the bowl from me and set it aside. I was sure that it was not necessary at that moment but she seemed to be all of a sudden incapable of meeting my gaze.
"Thank you." I said, heaving myself further up on the bed so that my back was straighter. Sitting in one position for hours proved more difficult in a bed than on an organ bench.
"You're welcome." She added redundantly. "I… am not sure how to begin…"
"You wish to discuss Meg's involvement in all of this." I stated. It was not a question, for I was more than certain of the answer.
Finally she met my gaze.
"…Yes." She spoke with a sense of dazed stupefaction, as if she were searching her thoughts as to exactly how I had figured it all out so quickly.
I nodded.
"Christine told you?"
"No." I said softly. "If she had known earlier she would have told me. My guess is that she found out shortly before our little incident in the stairwell, which is why she returned so promptly after leaving. She was returning to warn me. If she hadn't returned, maybe…" I looked down at my lap, noting morbidly that there was a fair amount of dried blood on the sheets from the last few days. Another set, gone to waste. "It doesn't matter…" I added.
"No, it does not. What's done is done." There was silence for a few moments, and then she continued. "I am not sure how to…"
"There is no need for an apology, if that is what you are about to offer."
"On behalf of my daughter."
"I do not hold you accountable for your daughter's errors. That would be ignorant of me. That being said, I do not blame her either. Her actions may have caused irreparable damage; affected my life, my life with Christine, and those actions will be hard to look past, but I am sure that she had a valid reason for betraying her friend. The blame lies with one person…
"le Vicomte." She spoke softly.
I nodded solemnly.
"You will think of something, Erik. You will find her again. I will help you when I return. She stood up.
"What? Where are you going?" I asked, attempting to sit up further.
"I must return above ground." She responded. "I am certain that the managers will have questions regarding the disappearance of their soprano, and at this time it is better to keep the peace."
"They have la Carlotta."
"Did I hear you correctly just now?" She teased, bringing her hand to her ear as if in mock aid of her hearing.
I smirked.
"What has been happening above ground? Have there been questions over the past few days as to her whereabouts? Has anyone asked about me?"
I used to consider myself to be the most informed person in the building, but as of late my mind had been on other things and I had neglected the world above. Ordinarily that would not have concerned me, but now I had a tie to the world above… I almost felt part of it. Christine was the counterweight holding me down when my mind threatened to get the better of me, and she was my sense of buoyancy, the rope that pulled me to the surface whenever I felt myself close to drowning…
Losing touch with the real world now posed real danger, and I had let days slip by without a scrap of news.
"Over the past few days there has been very little mention of you." Madame Giry continued. "A few of the girls have begun gossiping… something about the Christine being taken by the Opera Ghost…"
I smirked again. For some reason hearing this gave me pleasure.
"And the managers… No mention of me?"
"I have had to continually lead them astray. At first I told them that she was ill and needed rest, but they are growing increasingly difficult to avoid, as are their questions. But… no mention of the Opera Ghost, no."
I sat back, somewhat crestfallen. That part was disappointing.
"You do like to make life difficult for me, don't you?" She added with a smirk similar to mine.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, truthfully your absence in the theatre has made my life slightly easier of late, but now it is Christine they are asking about and I am sure it is only a matter of time before they begin to connect your absence with hers."
"I cannot help that."
"No."
"I appreciate everything, Madame. You know that."
She nodded, smoothing her skirts as she did so. I had begun to see that it was a habit, something she did when she felt uneasy. At least I knew my kind words were being heard. I knew that she'd had to pick up the pieces of what Christine and I had caused over the past few days… the past few years, and I had always been appreciative but I had never said the words, not until now. People need words. People like to deny that fact, but words hold much power. They have the ability to change a child's life for the worse, or change a man's for the better. Whether or not I knew of Christine's love for me, whenever she said the words I felt as though my heart would explode.
Aside from that…" She continued rather awkwardly. "Seeing as you will be here for at least a week, I will need to venture aboveground to source more supplies."
"Yes, I suppose you will."
Madame Giry
Monsieur Andre was the first to approach me; he always was when management had a query. Over the past few weeks, it had become somewhat of a ritual.
Where is Christine?
How is Christine?
Can she perform?
Has the Opera Ghost mentioned his salary?
Has the Opera Ghost mentioned us?
He spotted me exiting the auditorium through one of the doors and immediately rushed toward me.
"Madame!" He approached me with a sense of comical, flustered exasperation that could only be associated with Monsieur Gilles Andre.
"Monsieur." I nodded politely, but did not stop walking. It was prudent not to allow Monsieur Andre too much of your time. He had the ability to turn a five-minute conversation into hours of drab diatribe and questioning. The small man hurried along behind me."What… er… what were you doing in the auditorium at this time?"
"I am currently employed as the ballet mistress, am I not?" I asked, shooting a glance behind me.
"Yes! Yes. Of course Madame. It is simply that… well, there were no scheduled rehearsals for this morning."
I stopped walking and rounded on the man. Perhaps if I intimidated him enough, he would either stop questioning me or get to the real questions he wished to ask.
"Monsieur." I began curtly. "I wish to know why you would trouble yourself with something as trivial as why a ballet mistress would be practicing ballet!"
"Oh, I do not mean to offend in any way, Madame! But… you see, usually you would not rehearse in the auditorium, not by yourself. Simply an observation…"
"Perhaps you should be expounding your energy on other observations." I turned on my heel and made to walk toward the small stairwell at the end of the circular hall.
"I have." His voice darkened slightly, taking on a stronger timbre.
Once more, I stopped.
"I have." He repeated. "That is to say… we have. The management and a few others, that is."
"And what observations are those, pray tell?"
"Well, one in particular… Miss Daae."
"Miss Daae is ill."
"As you have repeatedly told us."
"As is the truth." I said. "Monsieur, I am aware that you have a business to run; a well oiled machine that I, as well as many others depend upon for their livelihood, but continually enquiring after a girl who is attempting to recover will only impede her progress. The stress is not helping her. I am sure that even you can comprehend the toll stress can take on a growing voice."
I hadn't meant to sound snide or condescending…
Or perhaps I had…
"Yes, but we simply cannot have employees disappearing! In addition, our patron has been very distant of late. We do not see him for a good many days and when we do, he is distracted!"
"Le Vicomte? He is a busy man, I would assume."
"Perhaps, but business is business.
"Not my business. Now, if you will excuse me…"
Monsieur Andre rushed in front of me before I could continue, his hands held out before him in a rather uncouth manner intimating to me to stop where I was.
"No doubt you have noticed the increased presence of the law?"
"Of course. It began with the finding of Buquet's body, did it not?"
"Yes." He responded, his hands lowering. "I trust you have heard the rumours as to who is responsible?"
"I have." I nodded.
He took a deep breath.
"Madame Giry, I must ask…"
"Yes?"
"Is there any further information you can provide on the happenings of late?"
"What do you really mean to ask me?"
"I know that you are in communication with the Opera Ghost, or at least you have been in the past… That is no secret." He reasoned.
"No, it is not. I do his bidding and in return he does not make trouble for me or my daughter. It is an agreement, a business arrangement. Nothing more, nothing less."
He scoffed.
"You expect me to believe that you have not had any communication with him outside of this arrangement?"
"I expect you to respect my integrity. But if you must know, I have not heard from him in some time."
"Madame…" He began, his voice soft. He placed a gentle hand on my back that made me inwardly shudder. I was not sure what he was attempting to achieve but it only made me uneasy. "I am not the only one here who finds the disappearance of Mademoiselle Daae and the Opera Ghost to be disconcerting. In addition to that, I am certain that le Vicomte is involved in this somehow."
I walked forward slightly, a polite attempt at moving away from his hand.
"Are you asking me if Christine is somehow involved with the Opera Ghost? A man who up until recently you did not believe to exist!"
"They both left the Bal Masque together!"
"Ah." I began, raising my index finger to illustrate what I was about to say. "They left at the same time. Not together. You would do well to note the difference." I had cursed both of them for their carelessness that night.
Exasperated, he ran his hand over his greyed hair.
"Madame, I can see that whatever it is you know, you will not divulge here today, but am I correct in assuming that Christine Daae is like a daughter to you? This Phantom is a dangerous man. As a mother, do you feel no responsibility to her? To her safety?"
"Allow me to repeat myself, Monsieur. Then, I can go about my business and you can go about your own…" Finally, I turned to face him. "I have not spoken to your Opera Ghost in weeks. Christine Daae is ill. As soon as there is a development in either area, I will be sure to make you or Monsieur Firmin aware before anyone else."
He nodded slowly. His brow furrowed as he looked to the ground, apparently in thought. I hoped he wasn't concocting more theories for me to dispel, or lie about.
Unfortunately, he was.
"Is Miss Daae in the building at least?" He asked.
I rolled my eyes and turned to walk away.
"Good day, Monsieur."
Usually I would pride myself on my decorum, my propriety, and my polite nature. I would never normally disrespect someone in such a way, particularly someone in such authority of my livelihood… but this was not Firmin, it was Andre and I knew that his mind would already be too flustered with the next item on his agenda of things to worry about to mind me. I had business to tend to and deciding that he and his business partner would be sated with that information for now, I continued toward my quarters.
I passed a few girls on the way to my quarters, receiving no more than a cordial nod from each of them. I hardly received anything else due to the distance I placed between us. I was their instructor and cared for many of them as a mother, but it was not proper to form friendships with my students.
"Maman?" A small voice spoke as I unlocked and entered the room. I looked up to see my daughter, sitting up on my bed. I had wondered if I would see her, had wondered where she might be.
"Meg." I responded, unsure of what else to say.
"I slept in here last night." She spoke softly. "I could not be around the other girls…"
I nodded, walking into the room and taking a seat on the divan on the other side of the room.
"What happened last night?" She offered. "Is everyone alright?"
I scoffed slightly. Things were far from alright.
"No." I looked at her. "They are not."
"Maman, I am so sorry." Her voice wavered on the last few words and almost immediately she began to weep. "I wanted to come to you. I wished to apologise, to fix everything but I could not think straight… and then I did not know where to find you! Where is Christine? Are they both alright? Where is le Vicomte?" "Oh, I am so sorry." She wept harder.
I could not tell her that it was alright, not yet.
"Erik will be alright but he remains injured. le Vicomte's sword saw to that." I hadn't meant for the words to be used as weapons against my daughter, but I could not help myself. "Christine no longer remains her, he has taken her and will only release her if Erik turns himself in to the authorities."
Meg stared at me, her eyes brimming with more tears.
"I… I hadn't meant to… What have I done? I am sorry, I am so sorry!"
"I know you are, child." I said, my voice softened. I was unsure of whether or not I could forgive her, but what mother could bear to hear her child sobbing and feel nothing? "Meg…" I began. "Why did you do it?"
"It was Raoul!" She spoke desperately, seemingly relieved at the opportunity to explain herself. "He threatened me! You know I would never do anything to hurt Christine! "He is the patron, he told me that he would make things difficult for you and I if I did not tell him what I knew… and… all I did was tell him where Christine entered to visit The Phan… to visit Erik. I had no idea what it would lead to, I was not thinking straight but I was afraid! And…" She looked up at me, as if asking permission to continue or to check whether or not I was listening; accepting her reasoning.
I nodded.
"And I am ashamed to say that I was jealous of Christine…"
"Meg…"
"Not because of Erik. I was jealous because she has this talent, this natural talent. Everything I aspire to, she just possesses and it seemed like she was squandering it all! She was getting cast in parts that I could only dream of and she did not care! Perhaps if she told me what she was actually doing… what she was going through, I would have understood. But all she told me was that she was with Erik. I was slaving away at rehearsals, and all the while all everyone could ask me was have you seen Christine? Where is Christine?! She was getting the attention even though she wasn't even here! At first I spoke to Raoul out of spite, but I had doubts… and then…"
"Then he threatened you."
"Yes." She nodded.
"Meg, I wish you had come to me."
"So do I, but it all happened so fast! You were preoccupied and so was Christine… and I felt so alone and frustrated and… and there he was…" She began to weep once more and I could not help but sit down beside her on the bed and embrace her.
She clung to me with a ferocity I had not felt in her since she was a child. She was remorseful, of course she was. I believe that she was sorry from the moment she committed the act, from the first aorta of envy she felt.
"What will happen Maman?" She cried. "What will happen to them? To Erik?"
"I do not know. Erik will not last in a prison, not in his condition but at the moment he cannot see past Christine's happiness. It looks as though he is leaning toward bending to Raoul's whim."
"He cannot!"
"I know."
"What can I do?" She pulled away, wiping her eyes. "What can I do to help? Can I help with a plan?"
"I am not sure that he would wish it, child."
Ordinarily Erik would be kind, or at least civil because Meg was my daughter, but her actions had affected Christine and his life with her. I knew that she would not be welcome.
"What can I do?"
"I will need to spend some time with Erik over the coming week. Help him prepare for whatever decision he is soon to make. As much as he denies it, he needs my assistance. If anyone asks where I am, lie. Tell them that I am looking after Christine who is ill. If the managers demand to see either of us, tell them that I have taken her to my brother's house to fully recover… that the change of scenery will do her good… something like that."
"But…. You don't have a brother."
"They do not know that! Monsieur Reyer perhaps, but Andre and Firmin know nothing of my life."
"Where does… my uncle live? If anyone asks…"
"Tell them that he lives just outside of Paris. As curious as the managers may get, they would never inconvenience themselves as such."
Meg nodded.
"I will do what I can to help you, Maman, to help them."
I smiled wanly. She was my daughter and I would always love her, but I could not begin my path to forgiving her until this ordeal was over…
One way or another…