Chapter Text
The train whistled as it pulled into a gentle stop. Christine began to grab her things as her newfound companion placed his top hat back onto his head. The rest of the car stirred as they groggily collected themselves.
Mr. Harper stood first, a large, heavy-looking black trunk in hand. Despite the several-hour train ride he had just taken, his green eyes held the same energy and brightness as before. “Do you have all your things?”
Christine nodded. She lacked his liveliness, weary from traveling.
As they exited the train, an intense breeze swept through them. Christine shivered as she looked at the dim lanterns that hardly illuminated the station. No lights came from the main building. The station must have closed hours ago, only leaving a few lights lit to receive the last train. She was now especially glad to have accepted Mr. Harper’s offer, knowing that no one here would have helped her find the docks or lodging.
“I am afraid this is the off-season for Calais. The city is much prettier during the summer. You should come and see it again during the tourist season.” His words turned into mist as they hit the cold air. The man strided down toward the street, and Christine trailed after him.
She was surprised by the sheer size of the city, before supposing that it was a main port between England and France after all. All she could see were numerous large buildings squished together in hundreds of rows, only separated by narrow streets. It reminded her of Paris. She remembered Mr. Harper saying to her on the train that Calais was much smaller than Paris, but the large number of travellers made it feel more crowded.
“It is a lovely city,” she commented. “But I doubt I shall ever return here.”
“For what reason?” he questioned. “I must insist that this doesn’t measure up to the city in its prime.”
The streets were jarringly empty. She would have felt anxious to be here alone. Port cities like Calais that attracted tourists were notorious for crime.
“I am not someone who gets the opportunity to travel. I don’t expect these circumstances to happen again.”
“You could ask your husband.”
He was persistent, and she was too tired to construct the perfect lie. This was the most amount of talking she had done in months. She had grown used to being silent after living with Erik, as she only spoke with him when necessary.
“He is not inclined to listen to my requests.” She tried to keep it simple.
He mumbled a small, “I see.” Then, he changed the subject, talking instead about the fabric industry.
She could smell the docks before they even arrived. Her nose immediately picked up the salty aroma of the ocean. Her pace quickened, strolling forward with more energy than before. Mr. Harper noticed and matched her speed.
“I have missed the smell of the ocean!” she exclaimed. Her eyes shut, and she recalled the precious memories of her childhood.
“Nothing quite like it,” he agreed.
The docks were busy despite the late hour. Sailors were shouting orders at each other in different languages, travellers were scurrying around, and ships were leaving and arriving. The sea was illuminated by the glow of the half moon. Across the water, she could barely make out a distant glow of Dover. She watched the water sway back and forth as Mr. Harper spoke with the ferryman.
After paying the ferryman, she stepped onto the boat. It was smaller and quite crowded, but Mr. Harper told her that it would be cheaper and faster to join this ship before it leaves. She was not going to question his expertise on the matter. The boat gently rocked in the calm waters. She found it soothing.
“Where in England is your husband?”
Her mind raced to recall cities she had seen on the map. She had planned to look at the map again once she arrived in Calais, but that was before she met Mr. Harper. She had been too preoccupied with fleeing the country earlier to decide where to go beyond the country of England.
“Mrs. Chevalier?” he questioned, his voice slightly worried. She must have taken too long to respond, she needed to say something right now.
“Sorry.” She faced away, pretending to have been caught up in the view of the ocean. “London.”
It was the only city in England besides Dover that she could recall, but he seemed content with her answer. “That is where my business is. You should see the amount of extra money they will give for fabric from Paris.”
“Oh? Is our fabric that much better?” she teased.
He laughed. “Not really. It is a little different. But it is mostly for the prestige. French fabric is in right now.”
“They only buy it because everyone else likes it?”
“Welcome to the gentry.” His voice was lower, more sarcastic. It was filled with a certain bitterness. “None of them have opinions of their own. They all follow the herd.”
She thought of Raoul. He certainly had opinions of his own, or so she had assumed. She wondered if all of his tastes and opinions were cultivated from childhood to match the socially acceptable standard, or if he simply pretends. Raoul used to tell her about the burden he felt from the social pressure of the upper class.
“I don’t know. Some are probably different,” she commented.
He laughed bitterly. “Some are really good at appearing different.”
“I don’t believe that,” she replied. Raoul was a good person. She knew this in her heart. She was convinced that if Harper met Raoul, he would change his mind.
His head shook. “Suit yourself.”
Slowly, the distant glow grew bigger and brighter as the ship made its way across the channel. She began to make out buildings, other ships, and people.
“I am getting tired. Do you want to stay in Dover tonight? We can travel to London together in the morning if you wish. I get the impression that you don’t speak English.” He smiled cheekily.
She could not be happier to hear those words. Smiling to show her enthusiasm, she nodded. “How can I possibly thank you?”
“Do not worry.” His smile was warm. “The company is worth it.”
Her face grew hot, and she looked away. He was most likely being friendly, and she was reading too much into it. It did not help that his eyes were sincere and that his black hair perfectly caught the moonlight. She had been starved of proper affection, and he was handsome and kind. In another life, she could imagine falling in love with him. Alas, her heart was guarded.
The night wind blew her hair into her face. The feeling of cold air on her skin made her feel calm. She sighed and shut her eyes to listen to the gentle waves splashing on the side of the boat.
Upon arriving, the pair followed the other passengers as they wearily stepped out of the boat. She had no idea what time it was. Christine set her bag down on the wooden dock and began to stretch out her arms and legs.
“Woah!” Mr. Harper snatched her bag from the ground the second he spotted it. “Be careful! There are lots of pickpockets and thieves here. Be sure to always keep an eye on your stuff.”
She grimaced, embarrassed at her careless mistake. She cannot afford to be acting so helpless. There is no telling how much longer she will be able to rely on his assistance. “I am sorry. I am terribly exhausted from traveling, and it slipped my mind.”
He gave her a warm smile. “It’s all good. Just tell me next time if you need me to hold your bag.”
When he handed her bag back to her, all of the coins stashed in there clinked together. Harper’s eyebrow raised.
“That sounds like a lot of money,” he commented.
She held the bag close to her, trying to silence the jingling coins. “Is it a lot of money? My husband requested I bring this much.”
The man eyed her suspiciously. “How peculiar. I suppose your husband must have his reasons.”
A sigh of relief escaped her lips. She was grateful that being a woman at least allowed her the privilege of playing dumb.
“Hey, you said on the train that you haven’t seen the beach since you were a child. We could go see it real quick before we go get rooms.”
Her eyes lit up with joy. As tired as she was, her head nodded enthusiastically.
As they made their way to the shore, her feet began to sink slightly into the soft sand. She could taste the salt in the air when she inhaled through her mouth. When they arrived at the shore, they both stood silently watching the waves crash onto the shore and wet the bottom of their shoes before pulling back.
The rhythm of the waves, the salt in the air, the softness of the sand, and the beauty of the moon made her feel peaceful. All of these sensations reminded her of her father and her happy memories with him at the beach. The night made the beach look even prettier.
“I have seen this beach a thousand times. Never has it looked so beautiful.” He said with awe.
“It is indeed beautiful,” she agreed. A sudden sadness overcame her. “Is London near a beach?”
Her question made him laugh. “No, I am afraid. But, plenty of people travel to the coast occasionally to spend a day there.” His eyes looked hopeful.
She smiled softly, even though her sadness did not go away. She watched the dark blue water at the edge of the horizon. The memory of her father made her heart ache. Without realizing it, she began to sing one of the first songs she ever learned. It was a very easy song; the melody and rhythm were simple, and it was meant to teach young children how to sing. She sang softly and weakly, trying to sound like an average person.
When she finished, she noticed Harper was staring at her with wide eyes. She then looked to the ground, blushing.
“What language is that?” he questioned.
“Swedish.” She shifted her feet. “I was born in Sweden. My father was from there. He taught me that song.”
“Well, you sing really beautifully.”
She thanked him. “We should go get rooms.”
“Agreed.”
She had followed him to a sizable tavern. Inside, the large fireplace warmed her from the chill of the night. All of the tables were empty, but a few guests sat at the bar. They were greeted by a very short woman with bright red hair. Mr. Harper spoke with her in English. Christine awkwardly looked around while they were talking.
This tavern must have been quite old, she determined. The floors were covered in various dents and scratches that had been painted over many times. The walls were full of wanted posters, advertisements, and what appeared to be job offers. The employees were all older, seasoned workers who had seen stuff she couldn’t imagine.
Not like I have not seen stuff they couldn’t imagine.
“Mrs. Chevalier. There is a room for you. She wants you to sign your name in the book, then after you pay her, she will escort you there.” Mr. Harper smiled at her.
“Where will you sleep?”
“Ah.” He paused, then gave a soft chuckle. “There is not enough room. I will sleep in one of the beds.”
Christine began to protest, but he quickly cut her off. “No, it is really okay. A bed is cheaper than a room, and a lady should really have a room to herself.”
She wanted to continue fighting him, but he had a point. “Fine, but breakfast is on me in the morning.”
He laughed. “Fine by me.”
…
It was completely pitch black. Her body was being pulled downward. Pins and needles pricked every inch of her skin. Christine tried to scream, but she couldn’t make a noise. Her body felt so heavy.
Her throat was constricting. Then, she heard a voice. It made her begin to shake as she desperately tried to get away, but it only grew louder. It grew so loud her head began to ache, and she tried to cover her ears, but the sound only continued.
Large hands gripped around her throat, and then she saw his face. She tried to scream again, but the pressure around her throat made it impossible. Erik let out a cruel laugh as his grip tightened even more. Tears ran down her face as her lungs burned.
The sound of banging made her eyes snap open. She had been screaming in her sleep. Her vision was spotty as she frantically took desperate breaths. Someone outside her door was yelling something in English.
Climbing out of her bed, she went to open her door. The red-haired woman was standing there looking seriously worried. Making eye contact with her, she tapped her hand to her chest before making a thumbs-up gesture to indicate that she was okay. The woman seemed to understand her, she nodded her head, and walked off.
So much for not drawing attention to myself. Christine let out a heavy sigh after shutting the door.
The room she had rented was small, but cozy. The bed was warm and comfortable. In the light of day, the window revealed a view of a busy street outside, and in the very corner, she could see the ocean.
She reviewed her maps and counted her money. It was quite a bit of money, as Mr. Harper had noticed. Living in the opera house made her think things were more expensive than they actually were. She had enough to survive off of for weeks without a job.
When she finally went downstairs to the dining area, Mr. Harper was waiting at a table for her. He waved once he spotted her, eyes bright and cheerful. She took the seat across from him.
“Good morning! I heard there was trouble upstairs this morning. Someone heard screaming. Are you okay?”
She cleared her throat. “Yes, it is all good.”
He nodded, but something was off about it. “I am glad. I was quite worried about it.”
“Yes.” She paused, then changed the subject. “What are we having for breakfast?”
“Well, let us see…”
After they ate, he summoned a carriage for them. The driver loaded his massive trunk into the back. He said something to the driver before helping her into the carriage. Once he climbed in, he said, “It will be an hour before we get to London. But our journey is almost over.
She smiled. “Lovely.” London seemed much further away based on the map, but maybe it was outdated or inaccurate.
The country of England was quite beautiful. The sun shone through the morning fog, which had blanketed the endless green grassy hills. The trees blew softly in the gentle breeze. Since it was fall, the trees had beautiful golden and orange leaves. She found herself constantly staring out the window of the carriage in awe of the gorgeous countryside.
“What does your husband do for work?” His question snapped her from her trance.
“He is also a merchant. He makes toys.” She replied before she could think through her answer.
“What is the name of his company? I might know it.”
Her heart raced. “I am not sure. He keeps me out of it.”
“Ah.”
The silence that followed was awkward. It made her suspicious. He was significantly more talkative yesterday. She wondered what had happened.
“Are you doing alright?” she questioned. “You seem quiet this morning.”
“Sorry.” He laughed. “I have been thinking about my business.”
“Forgive me. I did not mean to disturb you.”
“Nonsense.” He waved his hand. “I appreciate the distraction from work.”
She smiled at him, and he returned it. Then, he said, “By the way, we will stop soon.”
“Oh? Is everything alright?” she asked, concerned. It had been nearly an hour, and she saw no signs of what was supposedly a massive city.
“Yes, everything is just fine.”
When the carriage pulled to a stop, Harper hopped out and held out a hand. “Come on, let us stretch our legs.” Christine went along with him, stepping outside. They were in the middle of nowhere. There was not even smoke from a fire in view. She began to feel nervous.
“Why are you wearing the same dress from yesterday? Why have you not packed clothes to travel in?” he questioned sharply.
She laughed nervously. “I thought it wise to travel lightly.”
“Yet you carry all that money with you.”
Her face felt hot. “Yes, well-”
“Stop.” He demanded. “Please stop.”
She froze. Her heart raced inside her chest. They silently stared at each other. The chirping of the birds was the only noise.
“I know you are lying. I don’t like people who lie.” He frowned. “Are you trying to deceive me?”
Her eyes widened. “No, please, I-”
“No.” His voice was stern and full of anger. “I will leave you here. This road is hardly ever used; no one will come for you. Whatever you want in London cannot be good.”
“No! Please! I have nowhere to go!” Her eyes watered.
“What are you planning? Why must you lie?” he shouted.
She was crying. He clicked his tongue at her silence and began to walk toward the carriage. Her hand grabbed his shoulder to stop him on instinct. “Please, I had no other choice!” she cried.
“There is always another choice.” He replied coldly.
He turned his head, and his green eyes met hers. Her heart was pounding. They remained like that for a while, staring into each other’s eyes.
Harper then shrugged her off and marched toward the carriage, intent on abandoning her. The sight of him walking away made her desperate. Without thinking, the words spilled out of her mouth.
“My real name is Christine Daea. I am an opera singer in Paris. I was taken hostage and forced to marry my captor. If I go to the police, he will kill people I care about. I had no choice but to assume a new identity and run away!”
He halted his steps. “Where is the money from?” he demanded.
Christine looked away, ashamed of her actions. “I broke into the summer house of a Lord I used to know. That is where I got this dress from. I stole a bunch of silverware and sold it to a pawnshop.”
He was silent, but she continued. “I didn’t know how much money it was. I never managed finances, and I was surrounded by rich people at the opera house. I really thought it was just enough money to escape here.”
Harper finally turned around and looked into her eyes, scanning her for signs of deceit. She begged. “Please. I cannot let him find me. I don’t love him. He is a bad person. And he treats me terribly.” Her voice began to break with the last sentence. The tears continued to pour from her eyes.
The birds continued to chirp as she cried. Then, to her surprise, Harper wrapped his arms around her. “I don’t know why, but I believe you. I wish you were honest from the start, but I understand why you needed to lie.”
She returned his embrace, and they remained there for a while. He held her as she cried. The sun was high in the sky, shining down on them.
“I’m so sorry,” she whimpered.
He released her. “Don’t be. I am sorry. I had assumed malicious intentions and defamed your character.”
She shook her head. “I did lie to you, though.”
“Yes.” The horse nickered. “What now? Do you still want to go to London?”
She shrugged. “Will I be safe there?”
He nodded. “You will be if you stay at my apartment. You can lay low there for a little bit. I can reach out to some associates and see if I can find you a job.”
“Oh, please, you don’t have to do all of that.”
His eyes were sincere. “I want to. No one should be married to someone they do not love.”
“I must warn you. If he finds out you helped me, you will not be safe,” she warned.
He simply laughed. “Well, I think we have passed that point.”
“No,” she insisted. “It is dangerous now that you know who I am. There is a reason I have taken the precautions I did. If you value your safety, you will not associate yourself with me once we arrive.”
“I am not afraid.” He grabbed her shoulders. “Listen, we keep your fake name, but change your backstory. Other merchants constantly ask me for labor. If I see a good offer, I will send you.”
“Why are you helping me?”
“Because I want to. How many times do we get the opportunity to change someone’s life for the better?”
She was speechless at his words. She couldn’t believe someone was willing to help her life this. She had forgotten that some people in the world were really that good.
“Now, Miss Chevalier.” He had his usual grin on his face as he offered her his hand. “Let us go. It is actually three hours away. I just wanted to confront you alone in case you tried to accuse me of something.”
She wanted to be frustrated with him, but she wasn’t. At the moment, there was hardly anything he could do to provoke her. “Christine, call me Christine.”
His smile grew. “Call me Pierre.”
She smiled in return as he helped her into the carriage. “Thank you, Pierre.”
…
Raoul sighed and ran his hands through his hair when he finally collapsed into bed. His body ached from the phantom’s punishment, and his throat still felt sore. Each breath was strained, and talking required great effort to sound steady. The angry bruise on his temple would remain there for several days. Every time his nose recovers from the last punch, he is decked again.
He remained there on his bed for quite a while, contemplating his whole day. Staring up at the ornate ceiling, he thought about Christine’s escape and wondered how she possibly pulled it off with so many things going on last night. Both he and the phantom underestimated her resourcefulness. He thought about how wonderful it must be to be free, to not have to serve at a monster’s beck and call.
Rising from the bed, he walked over to his desk. He popped out the false bottom in the last drawer and set it aside, eyeing the letter Christine wrote for him. The rat catcher delivered it to him last week while he was out of town advertising for the grand reopening. Upon realizing who it was from, he wondered if her plan involved the rat catcher helping her. At the time, he had doubts about her plan. The rat catcher does not do anything for free and would surely take advantage of Christine’s desperation. Alas, she is gone, and he remained here still.
His thoughts taunted him. Why was he still here? Christine was gone. Nothing is keeping you here.
Despite these taunts, he knew the answer. It was the bag of opium on his desk. His payment for opening night. It was darker than normal, which indicated that it had greater purity than his regular supply. Erik must have been pleased with how the night went prior to learning of Christine’s escape. His eyes glossed over, examining the dark crystal.
In his younger days, he would have said that no feeling could compare to the feeling of being in love. These days, he knew, that nothing compares to the feeling of being high. This reality is dark and cruel, and the people who exist within it are the same selfish beings who sacrifice the well-being of others for their own happiness. Nobody is exempt from this truth, not even Christine.
He sat back in his chair, packed some opium into his pipe, and smoked it. As the smoke exited his nose, a warm, pleasant feeling immediately settled in his chest. All of the problems and worries swarming his head moments ago disappeared as he sighed in bliss. His body felt lighter than air. The pain from his injuries melted away into pleasant tingling sensations.
He picked up the letter and read it again. It gave no information on her plans for escape, nor where she was going, stating that doing so would protect him from Erik. It was short, only a few paragraphs about how sorry she was to have caused him such pain, and that it would all be over soon when she escapes. He laughed bitterly, glad to have not read this sober as he took another hit of his pipe.
Little does she know. You have only caused me more pain.
When he had first read the letter, he had doubted that her escape attempt would work. It seemed as though she did not have much of a plan. This feeling grew as several days passed, and her behavior at rehearsals gave no indication that she was planning to escape soon. Although, he supposed that was probably the point. Everything had been going great, the opera house was coming together, the phantom’s mood swings had become manageable, the troop was excited to perform, and the guests were excited to watch. The opera house pulled in so much money that opening night, it had been years since the house had seen such a success. If only….
He stopped himself, not letting himself continue his thought. He was glad Christine escaped. It gave him a ray of hope for his own escape, however, things would certainly be more difficult henceforth if the phantom’s mood today gave any indication. Christine had to realize that the phantom would not just accept this. He will track her down at the expense of everyone around him, which is why he had to comply.
The police were understanding and even offered to post security around the theater. He declined, knowing that there was nothing they could do that wasn’t already being done. He told them that she can be hysterical, so she might not wish to return. His heart ached at betraying Christine like that, but he was more trapped than she was. If she is careful, this will not hurt her chances of getting away. She would just need to play it smart.
Christine. The hard part is over. You escaped against all odds. Now it is imperative that you stay hidden.
…
Meg was alone, stumbling to the kitchen after hours to grab a snack. Her face was puffy from crying. Her friend was missing again after she had just returned. Although this time felt much more serious. It must be if the owners were involving the police, despite how bad that would look for the opera house.
Her heart ached with worry. She was frustrated with her inability to help. Christine was one of the only people she could tell anything to. Especially since the rest of the troop had ignored her all week out of jealousy for her new part. Her joy at her new role was drowned in the sadness for her missing friend.
After her snack, she went to the stage. She sat down and hung her feet off the edge of the platform, her thighs in between the unlit stage lights. She recalled how Christine and she would sneak out from time to time after curfew to the smaller performance room and quietly pretend to give breathtaking performances as the lead in a masterpiece of an opera. As adults, they both had lead roles in an opera, which written by the phantom, was guaranteed to be a masterpiece.
A sob wracked her body as another tear slid down her cheek. Things were so much more difficult these days. She wanted Christine back more than anything. She would not care if she had to stop performing altogether. Both of her hands cupped over her eyes. Slowly, as her sadness concerning the events overtook her once more, she began to cry, stopping only to take gasping breaths. Every time she felt like she was done, she kept on. To her, it just felt so stupid that she got her back for a couple of months only for her to disappear again.
More than anything, she wanted the truth about why her best friend kept disappearing. Despite Christine’s claims of illness and hospitals, she knew she was not being honest with her. Nobody was being honest with her.
Except maybe the Phantom.
It brought her comfort knowing that the opera house was being watched over and protected. She knew that he did bad things. Despite not knowing the exact details of his crimes, she was confident that they could have been avoided if they had just listened to him. He was a musical genius, so he knew better than anyone anyway. She truly believed he was only interested in the greater good of the opera house.
She continued to cry, weeping on the stage. She would give anything to get Christine back. She just wished there was something she could do.
“Meg Giry.” A deep voice spoke behind her.
She stilled, instantly panicking. Quickly wiping her eyes and scrambling to stand up, she took a calming breath before questioning, “Phantom?”
“Yes.” He answered, then he paused awkwardly, seemingly not quite knowing what to say.
Her face was red. The last thing she wanted was to seem ungrateful for the role he had given her. “I’m sorry. I only came here because I thought no one would hear me.”
He stepped a bit closer. “The stage can be heard from almost anywhere in the tunnels.” He explained.
She wanted to slap her palm into her face. Of course, he can hear the stage. He must in order to listen to the performances. Her eyes were glued to the floor. She cannot believe she was screwing up her reputation with the phantom.
“I am so sorry to bother you. I will leave.” She gave a small bow and turned to make herself disappear as quickly as possible before she passed away out of embarrassment.
“Wait!” he called suddenly.
Her legs froze, halting her in place. She faced him. “Yes, did you need something?” She smiled, determined to keep her cool.
All she could see was a white mask on a dark figure, yet she knew he was just a man. Although right now, she could see why many people thought otherwise. His beautiful voice only magnified his mysterious presence into something mystical.
“I could make them cry if you want.” He said quickly, as if unsure.
She laughed at his joke. “There is really no need.”
“Fuck that shit,” he argued.
She let out a shocked chuckle. His cursing surprised her, though she supposed one pushed to the bottom of society would talk vulgarly.
“I am just stressed. There is nothing to be done.” She hoped she sounded mature.
“Is it the role? If it is causing this much stress, I can-”
“No!” she loudly interrupted before catching herself. At this point, he would never give her a big role again. “It isn’t like that at all,” she stated measuredly.
“What is it then?”
“I just,” she stopped herself, taking a deep breath. “I just miss Christine. She is my best friend, and she keeps going missing. And she doesn’t tell me anything about what is going on. I am just…left in the dark to worry about her.”
“I am terribly sorry.” His voice seemed genuine. “I am feeling the same pain as well.”
Her head tilted, confused. He continued. “I am in love with her.”
Everything became clear. Christine is so beautiful, talented, and kind, so it made perfect sense that he fell in love with her. There was no one better than a talented genius to be with her. The phantom’s protective nature would ensure that Christine would stay safe forever. Meg was sure of that fact.
“Really?” she asked, perhaps too excitedly. “Since the beginning?”
“Yes. I have always tried to keep her safe and happy.”
She squealed internally. “But Christine and Raoul?” she questioned.
The phantom had a dark look on his face. It made her feel scared, but she met his stare, trying to appear brave.
Maybe he will let me help if he finds me capable.
He clicked his tongue. “Raoul is a deceiver. A master liar. Christine feels like she cannot refuse him due to his status. She wanted to be with me, but he has spread malicious lies about me, and threatened to ruin the opera house. She thinks running away is necessary to protect all of us.”
Meg nodded. “I understand. We must find her and convince her to return.”
He nodded. “I only want the best for her. Raoul has manipulated her, so unfortunately, she does not trust me with her heart. I do not know where she would run off to.”
“All I want is to return her home, where she is safe,” he confessed. She could sense a deep sadness in his voice.
Meg wanted nothing more than that. “I am so sorry! I had no idea about Raoul, Christine really has no idea about him.” She shook her head. “Please, you must allow me to help. People overlook me, so I can help you! Let me talk to Raoul.”
He grabbed her shoulder and looked into her eyes, but she could not see his. “I love her so much. It pains my heart to see her so manipulated. Every day, I feel her crushing absence. I lie awake at night, worried for her safety. You must promise me, you will not believe anything Raoul says.”
“I promise,” she said sincerely.
“If there is anything that you find out or remember about where she mentioned she might have gone, let me know. Sing on the stage during the night, and I will hear you.”
“Okay!” Her spirits were uplifted at the thought of being able to do something useful. Before leaving, however, she paused. “You can just call me Meg.”
He was silent for a moment before replying. “You can call me Erik.” He then disappeared as if he had never been there. She blinked, trying to discern where he had gone, before giving up after a few minutes. She could have skipped to bed with excitement. Finally, she knew what was going on. Tomorrow, she was determined to accomplish something.
The next night, she went to speak with Raoul, determined to begin to uncover information. As she made her way to his office, her heart pounded with anxiety. She had to remember not to buy into anything he said.
The large double doors only served to make her foe appear more imposing. She took a deep breath and gave a loud knock.
“Come in!” replied a cheerful voice.
Don’t fall for his good manners. She reprimanded herself internally.
The door creaked open. Raoul was smiling at his desk, examining various papers strewn about. She stepped inside.
“Meg Giry!” His sky blue eyes met hers. She greeted him politely, careful not to convey her newfound distrust.
“Fabulous performance by the way. Especially upon such short notice. You are a great performer.”
Meg could not stop her blush rising in her cheeks. She knew he was just flattering her, but it was hard not to feel giddy at the compliment. She laughed. “Thank you! But I am nowhere near as good as Christine.”
He paused and looked down, some emotion clouding his eyes. “Yeah, her talent truly is something.” It was a moment before he shook his head and asked, “How can I help you?”
“Actually,” Meg began, “It is about Christine.”
He coughed. “Christine? Oh? What about her?”
“I was wondering if there was any update on her disappearance,” she questioned. Raoul scratched his head nervously. She took his anxiety as a sign of guilt.
“Meg, I promise that we will let you know as soon as we get an update.” His words were slow, and he stared deeply into her eyes. The candlelight illuminated his honey-blond hair.
“I just miss her so much.” Meg sat down in the chair opposite his desk before he could shoo her away. “It’s not fair. What did she do to deserve this?”
Raoul sighed. “Bad things often happen to the best people.”
“Bad things should happen to bad people,” she murmured.
The man across from her shrugged. “The world is unfair.”
She could not believe his indifference. The phantom is destroyed over her disappearance, and it seemed as though Raoul could not care less. She looked at the floor and shuffled her feet. “I just, want to know that she is alright.”
A hand grabbed her shoulder. She looked up into his perfect blue eyes. “Christine is tougher than she looks. I think she will persevere.”
“I know, I just wish I knew for sure.”
“Hey,” he went behind his desk and pulled out a bottle. “Worrying about her won’t do anything. Why don’t we drink and tell stories about her? It will feel like she is here with us. Plus, you deserve the night off.”
Two hours later, Meg had gotten tipsier than she had wanted to, but it was nice to reminisce about her. The alcohol made her chest and face feel hot. Plus, Raoul had gotten quite inebriated.
“As a child,” he slurred. “Christine was so excited all the time. The smallest thing would make her jump for joy.”
“She can be like that as an adult on occasion,” Meg admitted.
He laughed boisterously. “Yeah.”
“Did you know she loves apples?” she implored. “We once walked for many miles to a bakery south of Paris because she had heard they had apple pie for a limited time. We had one day off, and it was storming. It took hours to get there, and we were drenched.”
Meg began to laugh before she could hold it in. “She said it was absolutely worth it, though.”
He joined in. “Actually, I did know that.” He took a swig of the drink and offered her some, which she accepted. “In my summer house, we had tons of apple trees. Whenever she would visit, we would play outside, and she would always try and sneak one past the servants.”
Meg’s ears perked up. That story sounded familiar. Upon reflection, she realized Christine had told her about the summer house before.
“I feel like she has told me about this summer house,” she mentioned.
Raoul ran a hand through his perfect hair. “I am not surprised. She used to love it. Said it was her favorite place in the world next to the beach.”
Meg implored him to continue, feeling like she might be on to something. Raoul continued, “I mean, it is a pretty nice place. Nice area too. Pointoise is a pretty town, especially in the summer. We would spend the day outside or go to town to shop. Then, we would read in my father’s office, or tell stories.” His smile was fond, and his eyes were lost in memories.
Meg stood up. “It’s pretty late.” She stretched and gave a yawn to convince him.
“Yes, our star needs her beauty sleep.” He stood up and walked her out of the room. He held the door open for her as she exited. “Please know that if you ever need anything, let me know.”
She smiled and looked back at him. “I will,” she acknowledged, right before the door shut.
…
Erik scribbled furiously onto the parchment the descending notes for his new song. Only his obsession for music could hold a candle to his obsession for Christine, so his inspiration was a perfect way to distract himself while he waited for any news. His mood was reflected in his dark and haunting composition.
The grand clock in his office chimed a soft melody that he normally enjoyed, announcing that it was now ten at night. This would mean that it had been one whole week since her escape. He had not slept a wink since that fateful morning.
He groaned, recalling those events. He had even mentioned her good mood to her, yet she had lied effortlessly to him, claiming her mere excitement at performing. He had foolishly believed her.
Placing his quill down, he leaned back and sighed, covering his eyes with his hands. She had looked so beautiful that morning as well. Her brown eyes were bright, like the day he first met her. Her gorgeous skin, illuminated by candlelight. Her curly hair was messy and tousled, as though he had just fucked her. His member stiffened at the thought.
Damn. I cannot believe I did not fuck her that morning. What an idiot I was.
His teeth bit his bottom lip. It was unfair how sexy she was. She acted all modest about it, but he knew she wanted it to. Her lips may spill pretty lies, but her body showed him the truth. He could still hear her wanton moans and pleasurable sighs. He could see her perfect breasts, with her nipples begging to be tugged on and sucked.
His pants kept growing tight. His dick was pulsing, begging to be buried in her delicious cunt. It felt as though it had been years without sex, not just a few days. This was the effect she had on him. She turned him into more of a degenerate than he already was.
He unbuttoned his pants and freed his aching cock. At least this was not like all the times he had pleasured himself to the thought of her before. Now that he had been with her, he could picture her so clearly.
She was leaning against the door frame, twirling one of her gorgeous curls with her finger. The indentations of her nipples were visible through her silk robe. Her dark chocolate eyes were filled with lust. He groaned as he gave his dick a few tugs.
Her hand gracefully unbound her robe, but kept it around her shoulders. Her pink nipples were hard. Her soft, pale skin glowed from the candles. Her cunt was already dripping. She was smiling at him as she fell to her knees and began to crawl toward him. His face flushed as he pumped faster.
You would be so hot on your hands and knees. I would hardly be able to hold myself back from creaming at the sight of you.
She stopped when she got to him, staring up into his eyes. He could feel his heart pounding against his chest as he looked at her beautiful form. He shivered and moaned as he watched her impossibly cute tongue lick his length. Her tongue felt amazing on his tongue, he could barely imagine how good it would feel on his dick. “Christine…” he whimpered.
Her eyes closed as she continued to rub her tongue up and down his cock. It twitched against her ministrations, and she hummed in satisfaction. She was still smiling, her face now flushed as she kissed him with great fervor. He ran his hands through her curls as he lifted her into his lap, pressing her body against him. The feeling of her tits pushing into his chest made him groan and press his now wet cock against her soft body.
He could imagine her begging and pleading for him. She went on about how knew she shouldn’t disturb his work, but she was too horny to resist. She simply must have her husband. He reassured her, and promised that he could always find the time to fuck her. Her bottom lips parted as his cock slid inside. They both moaned in pleasure.
He remembered the sublime feeling of her silky walls constricting around his dick so clearly. Nothing could ever measure up to a feeling that perfect. She looked so beautiful as she bounced up and down on his lap, riding his cock. He took her nipple into her mouth, gently sucking on it. Her moans filled his office and her cunt gripped his twitching member.
He came with a groan. When his eyes opened, he was alone in his office with sticky pants. He sighed, his mind now clear of lust, and retreated to the bathroom to clean himself up.
In the bathroom, he splashed his face with water. In the background, he heard a faint melody. It sounded familiar. He moved toward the shore, where he could best hear the sounds of the opera room. The singer was Meg. He was not expecting her to find information this quickly. He wondered if he would regret recruiting her for this.
After cleaning himself up, he made his way to the stage. Surely enough, Meg was standing alone, singing to call his attention.
“Meg,” he called. The young blonde whipped her head to face him.
“You really came,” she muttered.
“Do not make me regret this,” he warned.
She looked hurt, and he regretted his tone. He had grown closer to her yesterday. He genuinely believed Meg was much better off as an ally than an enemy. She was also Christine’s best friend. And the daughter of a neutral associate. Plus, she was objectively a good performer, and had already come in use to him. He didn’t want her thinking that he hated her, but she had to understand that he was upset about Christine.
“I am sorry. It’s not much, but I think it might lead somewhere.”
“Yes?” he inquired. He doubted she would purposefully waste his time, but he had found that anyone besides him tended to be incompetent. She might have a lead or a hunch, but he doubted it would lead to anything.
“I spoke with Raoul. And he mentioned that Christine used to visit his summer home in their childhood. And I normally would not believe him so quickly, but I remember Christine mentioning the same thing years before she reunited with him. He said she really enjoyed that place. It is only in Pointoise, and-”
He stopped listening. He was not buying into this little idea until that part. Pointoise is most definitely north of Paris, and there is no way Meg knew about that clue. Her hunch does add up. If it is just a summer house, it would be vacant. She could possibly squat there for a while and not be caught by any servants. Raoul would have no idea of it either.
It seems too perfect. But maybe that is why it succeeded.
The more he thought about it, the more it added up. She could have easily gotten a ride if she claimed she was a De Chagny servant who needed to return home. His heart raced. He felt like a hound that had just caught a scent.
“I will check it out,” he replied after a long time of silence.
Meg smiled at him. “Thank you!” she called as he disappeared into the darkness.
He felt antsy. This lead seemed pretty promising. He would find the exact location of this summer house and go investigate. If she stepped foot in that house at all, he would know. He will track her down no matter where she tries to hide. There was not a fact he was more certain of.
Christine. You thought you could get away? Well, I am coming for you. And when I find you, you will be sorry.