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Forget Me Not	By : spikesbint Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > AU/AR Views: 12355 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 14
- 15
- 16
A/N I want to apologise for the length between updates, some of you might have read of my PC crash, which wiped out all of chapter 14, which I then had to re-write. I am also not a very well person, health wise and I have been sick, but anyway here it is. I hope you enjoy it.

Forget me not- Chapter 14

The Fires of Hell

Christine sat on the hard floor, immobilised with disbelief. Her heart raced within her breast as the scene replayed in her mind a thousand times. Erik and Meg had been on a bed. He had been touching her…willingly. She had to be wrong…he loved her.

She sucked in a painful breath as she struggled to her feet. A hand covered her mouth, cutting off the scream that rose to her lips. She was scooped up from the floor as if she were weightless and held fast in powerful male arms. Christine tried to escape his grasp, but he was too strong for her. He grunted with pain as her elbow connected with his ribs. She tried to kick him as he dragged her into a vacant room and closed the door behind them.

Her unknown assailant threw her on the bed. Christine opened her mouth again to scream, only to be rewarded with a hard slap that sent her flying against the wall. As her head connected with the headboard, the room started to spin. She felt the bile rise in her throat at the threatening sickness. However, she refused to give into it. The man took advantage of her momentary weakness and pinned her to the bed. Was she to be raped?

“Monsieur…please!” she begged. “Let me go,”

“Another Frenchie? Seems to be a lot of them around tonight,” he sneered.

“Don’t hurt me, or…or…”

“Or you’ll what?” he asked. He tore her purse from her fingers and searched it. Christine watched at he rifled through the contents. Frank smiled in satisfaction as he took the small revolver from it, tucking it into the back of his pants. “Let’s see what else you are hiding,” he threw the purse to the floor.

Christine closed her eyes as his hands touched her body, lingering on her breasts. She let out a sigh of relief, soon to be quashed as he thrust a hand up her skirts. She needed not have worried, his touch was cruel and impersonal as he located her second pistol and tore it from the garter. Just as she thought her ordeal was over, his hand rested on her thigh, stroking it. The sickness of earlier returned and Christine prayed for oblivion.

“Frank!” screeched a female voice.

He cursed and got up from the bed. “Not again! What does she bloody want now? That woman always spoils my fun. I am sure she has a sixth sense,” He muttered incomprehensibly to himself.

He turned his attention back to Christine. I’ll deal with you later,”

Christine watched as he exited the room. Her spirits sank lower at the sound of a key being turned in the lock. She got up from the bed, nursing her aching head. She swayed unsteadily as she made her way over to the door and tried the handle, but the door would not shift an inch.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Erik hid his face in the curve of Meg’s shoulder, silently wishing the charade to be over. No matter how innocent the circumstances, Christine was foremost in his mind, it felt like a betrayal. He had remained coldly impersonal with the woman in his arms. If he were to put a name to it, it felt as if she were family. He remembered as clearly, as if it were yesterday, when as a young boy, Angelique had shown him her newborn daughter.

Meg touched his head and he looked up at her. “That evil woman has gone now,”

Meg felt a little stab of female pride bite her at the look of intense relief on his face. He got up from the bed and straightened his clothing. She could not help the little smile that curved her lips as she watched him. She wondered at Christine’s fascination for him. She too had glanced what lie beneath that black mask, she had been shocked by it, but not repulsed. However, he seemed cold in his touch and she, for the life of her could not imagine him driven wild by passion. Nevertheless, Christine loved him and Meg was in no doubt that it was reciprocated.

“Please forgive the imposition mademoiselle, if there had been any other way…”

Meg could tell by his stilted words that apologies were an alien notion to him, as if he had had little practise at it.

“I understand, and I know where your heart truly lies,” She glanced at his profile. “You could try calling me Meg, especially after we shared a bed…” She wasn’t quite sure what devil drove her to tease him.

He had gone back to his distant formality of before, as he paced the room, restlessly. Her humour was ignored.

“What is keeping Tom?” he sighed.

Meg wrinkled her nose. “Is it my imagination, or can I smell…”

“Smoke,” Erik cut her off mid sentence. “What kind of game is he playing?”

Screams and cries of Fire, and the sound of running feet were everywhere. Chaos ensued as the inhabitants began to desert the place, like rats on a sinking ship. Erik held out his hand to Meg. She watched in horrified fascination at the fingers of smoke that had started to creep under the door.

“Come, this place will go up like a tinder box. Take my hand and I will lead you through it. Do you have anything to defend yourself?” he asked.

Meg quickly went over to the bed, and retrieved the vicious looking nail she had hidden under the pillow. Erik allowed himself a quick smile before opening the door. Smoke belched into the room, causing Meg to choke. Erik tore a strip from the bed linen and passed it to her to cover her mouth. She took his hand and he led her down the smoke filled corridors. The noise of the fire and of those fleeing it was horrendous. Men and woman, in all states of undress were running up and down the passageways.

They had almost reached the stairs, when they were intercepted by Tom.

“Is this your idea of a diversion?” Erik asked.

Tom looked uncomfortable.

“The officer and I staged a fight downstairs. Didn’t know me own strength and knocked a lamp over in the fracas. Anyhow, can’t stand around here talking, if in case you haven’t noticed the place is on fire,” His eyes sparkled as he looked at Meg and gave her a cheeky smile.

“What of the McKinley’s?” asked Erik.

“Got them, both are in handcuffs outside. They were the first to leave of course,”

“Good, because I want to give those two a piece of…my mind,” said Meg as she marched past the two men.

As the men trailed in Meg’s angry wake, Tom’s look of admiration was not lost on Erik.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Meg marched out through the front door, jostled by those still escaping. She almost lost her balance, but Tom was there to steady her. She smiled at him gratefully and walked over to the McKinley’s. Josie had a sour look on her face as she looked at the instrument of her downfall. Crowds of people, who had lived in fear of the couple for too long, had come to watch their house burn and jeer at them.

Frank’s head was bowed as he looked at the ground.

“Frank…” Meg began in the meekest voice she could muster.

He looked up at the sound of her voice, his eyes wary, now he was no longer in a position of power. She leaned forward as if to whisper in his ear. Her right knee came up at the same time and connected with his groin, hard. He paled and slumped to the ground, retching. Meg smiled and turned to leave.

“I’ll have the last laugh,” groaned Frank.

Meg carried on walking.

“That other French bitch will burn and what a pretty bonfire she will make,” he hissed.

She stopped in her tracks. Erik caught the prostrate man’s words. All colour left his face as a wave of fear clutched at his heart. He strode over to the man and dragged him up from the dirt, until he was level with him. Frank gasped as he felt the pinprick of a knife, pressing against his ribs.

As he looked into the cold, almost dead grey-green eyes of his captor, he shrank in fear. Something told him that he would think nothing of killing him, or regret it in as much as a heartbeat.

“Tell me what you mean by the other French bitch?” asked Erik, grimly.

Frank looked at him again. “The other one, the woman who thought she could pass for a whore,”

“What did she look like?” He dug the blade deeper into Frank’s skin, causing him to cry out in pain.

“Tiny little thing, brown eyes, brown hair,”

“Where did you leave her?”

Frank wheezed, before answering him.

“The room opposite the one you were in,”

Erik let the man fall to the ground. It was all he needed to know. He turned back, towards the blazing house. Tom stepped in his path.

“You cannot mean to go back in there. It’s suicide!”

“Christine is in there,”

“But if it’s some stranger you risk your life for?”

“It’s not. I have had a suspicion all evening that she might have been foolhardy enough to follow me. Now move out of my way, we are wasting precious time. Do not even think of following me either,”

Erik brushed past Tom and ran into the building. Meg came to Tom’s side.

“Do you think it is Christine?”

“Who knows…this is madness,”

“Surely someone will come to put the fire out?” asked Meg.

“Look around you Miss, who in this neighbourhood actually cares?”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Christine hammered on the door, weakly. The heat was nothing like she had felt before. Sweat trickled from every pore. She coughed as the smoke penetrated her lungs. It was so much easier to lie on the floor and give in to defeat. The house was empty; no one was coming for her. She lay down on the hard floorboards. It was easier to breathe as the smoke was less thick, but the heat was merciless.

“Erik,” she breathed on a painful sigh.

She closed her eyes, hating herself for her stupidity in even thinking she could have helped. She had taken his happiness from him, by coming here and putting her life on the line. She had robbed Erik of any chance of the future he deserved and she had wanted to give him. Christine cursed herself, as bitter tears streaked down her face, moments before she slipped gratefully into unconsciousness.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Erik fought his way through the smoke, the air so thick; it made it almost impossible to breathe. He held his sleeve up to his face as he tried to locate the room.

“Christine! Christine!”

He was greeted only by the sounds of the fire, and the house, as it began to disintegrate around him. Flames already poured from the room, which he and Meg had occupied only half an hour previous. The sight of it made him grow cold inside. He tried the door handle of the room opposite it. He could feel its heat through his glove.

Erik put his shoulder to the door, testing it with his weight. It would not give; the heat had warped the door in its frame, causing it to stick even more effectively.

“Christine!” he called out….

She was somewhere safe and warm. She did not want to go back to the harsh reality from which she had escaped. A far off voice in her mind called to her as it were from a dream she had had long ago, a voice that had often soothed her as a child.

“Papa?” she murmured.

“Christine, you have to go back,”

She looked into the kind, warm eyes of father.

“Am I dreaming?” she asked.

“Christine!” a harsh voice dragged her back into consciousness.

The vision of her father melted away, as she opened her eyes. “Erik?”

“Move away from the door. I need to shoot the lock,”

Christine got up on unsteady legs and stood to the side. Moments later the lock was shot from the door. It burst open as Erik kicked it. She ran to him, and wrapped her arms around him. Christine was too relieved to see him, to notice that he did not return the pressure. She pulled away and looked up at him, wincing at the coldness she saw in his eyes.

“I am so sorr…” she began.

Erik pushed her roughly out of the way, covering her body with his own, as part of the ceiling collapsed, and gave way, narrowly missing the both of them. He was the first to recover, getting to his feet; he held out a hand to Christine and helped her up.

“There isn’t much time,”

He took her hand and led her from the room and into the hallway. They hurried down the passageway until they had reached the stairs…or what was left of them.

“We are trapped, there is no way out! This is my entire fault,”

“Blame will not save us now. Tell me, did you observe any back way or yard to this place upon entering?”

“The-there was something I noticed, it would be on the far side behind the house, but we are on the first floor. We cannot jump, it would be suicide,”

“Let me be the judge of that,”

They went back down the corridor, until Erik found a room, yet to be touched by the blaze. He tried a window to find it had been nailed shut. He took a chair and threw it through the window. He smashed the rest of the glass from the frame. He then dragged the thin mattress from the bed, along with the pillows and threw them out of the window.

Christine walked over to the window and looked over the edge.

“I can’t do it…I have been afraid of heights ever since I was little,”

“Do you want to die? The fire is not far behind us. You had the nerve to come here, now find it to jump Christine,” he demanded. He held out his hand. “I will be right behind you, I promise,”

She shivered at the emotionless tone of his voice, but she took the hand he held out to her, as he helped her onto the ledge. A wave of nausea came over her again and her head ached from her earlier injury. Christine took a breath and jumped. She felt as if she were falling forever, until her body made contact with the mattress. It did little to cushion the blow. Her body would be a mass of bruises in the morning.

Christine quickly rolled off it, and waited for Erik to follow her. He stood on the ledge and leapt from the burning building. Flames had caught his jacket and by the time, he had made contact with the mattress it was ablaze. Christine grabbed a pillow and beat out the flames. She sent a silent prayer of thanks, when she saw that the material had not burned right through to the flesh.

She frowned, he had not moved since he had landed on the mattress.

“Erik?”

With some difficulty, she rolled him over onto his back. It was then, that she noticed a dark stain spreading across the front of his shirt. A shard of glass, protruded from his side. She was wretched with the knowledge that this was all her fault. If he were to die…she could not complete the thought.

“Erik?” she whispered. There was the sound of screaming, it took her several moments before she realised that it was her own. She was silenced as he opened his eyes to look at her.

“You’re safe?” he asked.

“Yes,”

“Good,” he whispered, closing his eyes.

“Erik!”

She leaned forward and put her head against his chest, relieved to still feel the slow, but steady thud of his heartbeat. They were still too close to the building for safety. Christine was afraid to move him, for the fear of causing further injury, but it had to be done. She tugged at the edges of the mattress, and slowly dragged him away from the fire. It was slow progress, his weight almost too much of a match for her strength. When he was far enough away, she left him for a moment, to find a means of help.

The only exit from the yard was through the narrow passageway, that she had used to get here. That was now blocked with falling debris from the fire. She called out for help, but no one could hear her.

Christine went back to his side and she lay next to him. She gently cradled his head on her arm, while she prayed someone would find them and soon. She looked at the fragment of glass, buried deep in his side and the blood that seeped out around it. There was so much of it. Her tears fell down her face to drop onto Erik’s face. Christine looked up at the house, just in time to see the roof collapse in on its self.

“Don’t die, I love you,” she pleaded to the man in her arms.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“No!” Meg screamed, as she saw the house in front of her fall apart. Sparks flew high into the air as the roof caved in. “Christine!”

She ran towards the building, but Tom grabbed a hold of her. “Don’t be so foolish, they are gone,”

The words tasted like ashes in his mouth as he uttered them. The fire climbed higher into the night sky, taking with it, the only man, who had ever cared enough to save him. Meg turned to him and sobbed into his shoulder. Tom looked on as the horse drawn fire truck appeared on the scene.

“Too late,” he groaned as he held onto Meg.

Most of the earlier crowd had started to disperse as more police arrived on the scene. The McKinley’s were dragged away on a police wagon, but not before Frank had smiled at Tom, smugly. Tom felt the old anger, swell in his chest, but the sobs of the woman that leaned on him, reminded him, he had a more important duty to carry out.

“Come, let me get a cabbie and take you home,”

“No, I want to stay, just in case,”

Tom looked down at the stubborn set of her mouth, knowing that she would not take no for answer,”

“Very well,”

He led her over to the curb on the other side of the road and sat her down. Tom noticed for the first time, that she was shivering. He took off his coat and wrapped it around her trembling shoulders. Meg was grateful for the warmth and the protection it offered her, as she sat numbly and watched the men putting out the fire.

She did not know how long she had sat there, but night slowly gave way to the grey cold dawn and at last, the fire was out. A blackened ruin remained. The last hope drained from her body, as she slowly got to her feet.

“Let’s go,” she said quietly. Her face pale.

Tom nodded and followed her, glancing one last time at the wreck. There was a cry from one of the firefighters.

“We’ve found something!”

“What is it?” yelled one of his comrades.

“In the yard, a man and a woman,”

“Are they alive?”

“I don’t know, someone fetch a doctor,”

“It’s them, I know it’s them!” said Meg, her face animated with fresh hope.

TBC
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Forget Me Not