A/N- A warning dearest readers. This installment is heavy with the sad.

Someone mentioned fleshing characters out and making people care about what happens to the character, well here you go. Will it kill some of the intrigue, I can't rightly say. We shall find out together.3

Chapter 11

"You really care about him, don't you?" Stephan asked, joining me at the window as I watched Matt's figure disappear around a corner. The streets below were still damp from a storm earlier that afternoon, reflecting the streetlamps and making the City of Lights all the brighter. I nodded with an unhappy sigh, folding my arms about me like a shield.

"He flew all the way out here, with a 105 fever, just to be here for me. And other than Claire, He is my only friend back home in New York. He's the big brother I never had." I explained. I turned to him, tucking a strand of my wild curls behind my ear. "I just don't want to see him get hurt. And knowing 'Erik' the way I do, I'm afraid he will be." Stephan remained silent for a moment, his expression guarded and unreadable.

"Thank you for your kindness, Stephan." I continued. "Whatever sharp tongued banter we've shared, I'm glad you are on my side."

"Certainment." He replied. "It is true that I have been less than genial towards you. Let that be the past, and we'll focus on the problems at hand." He extended a rather large hand to me and I took it.

"Okay." I smiled. "You've got yourself a deal. Now, about that Chinese you mentioned…" My stomach gave a growl.

"This way," He gestured. I followed him down the hall into a surprisingly large kitchen which had all stainless steel range appliances and glass tiles in interesting iridescent charcoal tones. Black marble lined all the counter tops and the island, while the cabinetry was a pearl grey. A masculine choice but with feminine touches. A woman had decorated at some point.

I noticed a picture frame on the counter by the fridge, with an almost glamour-shot-esq photo of a woman with long red hair and laughing brown eyes. Beside it sat a small vase of red roses and baby's breath. I picked the picture up and stared before looking at Stephan who was unpacking the food from a plastic bag.

"Who is this?" I asked, catching his attention. His expression saddened when he saw what I was holding. Leaning against the kitchen island he took the photo and looked at it with a fond, if heartbroken smile.

"My wife, Lucianna. She died," He said, setting the picture back in its place.

"In the collision?" I asked quietly. I was almost afraid of the answer. He turned around and braced his palms on the island's marble counter top.

"We were arguing in the car, I was wanting to move to Milan to produce my first opera at La Scala. She had different opinions. She always had loved Paris. It was in her blood, she would often say. I wasn't paying attention to the road in my anger and I blew a red light. And a Semi hit us." Stephan took a shuddering breath, ignoring the tear at the corner of his eye. I found my hands clasping themselves over my mouth in mute horror. "It struck the passenger side, killing her instantly, or so the report said. A fire started shortly thereafter, and I got this." He indicated the scar. "It runs down the outer side of my arm, where my clothes had caught fire. If it hadn't been for passersby pulling me out and getting the fire off me, I most likely would have died as well."

"I am so sorry for your loss," I whispered, wiping my tears away with the heel of my palm. I couldn't stop myself from reaching across the counter and giving his hand a squeeze. I couldn't fathom that kind of pain, and i didn't think I could have endured the tragedy on my own as he had. It was strange how my preconceived notions of snobbery and churlishness were so wrong. It was a lesson well learned.

"Not exactly good dinner talk, is it? Your fantôme and mine," He commented, turning back to the food. He wore a wry, albeit dark, smirk.

"I would have liked to meet her," I admitted. He nodded, not turning his head from his task as he dug plates from out of a cabinet.

"You would have liked her," He added. "She was funny; always laughing." he turned to me. "You know, I don't think there was a single day that she let by without some joke or prank."

That made me smile. He was being quite charming, despite his tragedy and our rough introductions. He handed me a plate with a set of chopsticks and lead me back into the living room. After pouring us both another glass of wine, we sat on his couch and ate. For awhile there was silence as we devoured the Moo goo gai pan. And for the first time that night I actually saw his apartment. It was well decorated, in hues of neutrals, Ivory, black, and a high polished red wood made up a set of display cases containing valuables. The place was very modern, and yet felt old fashioned. The couch we sat on was an eggshell white fabric in a curved oblong shape. I then fully eyed the state of the art computer work center, a home recording studio practically miniaturized for his convenience. It must have been easier to write sheet music on a computer piano keyboard than by hand.

He noticed my attention and grinned.

Matt walked back to the hotel, and to anger the stakeout, he decided to go through the front door. With a smirk and a smug wave at the police sitting across the street, he slipped through the revolving doors and glided through the lobby to the lifts, rising up to Chris' floor and into her room. He sat and he waited at the breakfast table.

Matthew MacPheareson wasn't the least bit surprised to hear a knock resound from the front door. when It knocked a second time, more furtively, Matt was already on his feet and heading to the door.

"Hold on, Inspector, I'm coming." He exclaimed through the door. Upon its opening, he saw a severely livid Inspector Abjib. Matt grinned toothily, stepping back with a grandiose sweep of his free hand in invitation.

"You were expecting me?" the Muslim officer stated drily, crossing the foyer of the room. "Where were you tonight?"

"First off, sir, I'm a reporter and I could see your guys a mile off. I think they need some espionage training or something." Matt stated by way of greeting. "Secondly, I've got something for you." He went to his leather jacket and pulled out Chris' camera, tossing it at the Inspector. "Do feel free to spool through."

The Inspector stared at the tiny view screen for a few moments, clicking through the mundane of Christine Daniels' career. it hadn't been too difficult to puzzle out who this camera belonged to. He was about to set the camera aside when he paused on an intriguing image of a man sitting at an old fashioned pipe organ. He was the most unusual and grotesquely deformed gentleman he had ever seen. the Inspector's first thought was to laugh, but chose to temper his exasperation a little more professionally.

"Are you trying to make a fool of me?" He asked, dark eyes flashing dangerously as he stared down the blonde across from him. "these are forged."

Matt cursed profusely. "You stubborn mule!"

"And furthermore I arrest you for obstruction of justice, falsifying evidence, and harboring a fugitive!" Abjib snapped, his patience finally coming to a screeching halt. He pinned Matt to the wall, slapping cuffs on the struggling man's wrists.

"HEY, hey hey! Hold on just one minute." Matt exclaimed, twisting around to try and look the inspector in the eye. "Those photos are real, I'm telling you! What good would It do me to submit fake evidence? What good would it do Christine? You have to trust me on this one!"

"Like you have so generously trusted me instead of taking the law into your own hands?" Abjib sneered indulgently. Matt shook his head in chagrin.

"Okay, I'll give you that one," Matt conceded. "Please understand that I have my reasons..."

"Yes, You love Mademoiselle Daniels," The Muslim cut off brusquely, shocking his captive into a silence that was only broken after a few moments with a nervous throat clear. The sandy haired blonde hung his head briefly before pursing his lips.

"I didn't think I was being that obvious," He quipped. "But, this isn't about that right now. This is about proving the FACT that she is innocent. She was in the wrong places at the wrong time. You know she couldn't have killed Becker, she was watching the show with the Manager. Please, you have to believe me!"

"The man could have been killed before the show..." The Inspector contradicted halfheartedly. Matt sighed in relief, knowing he was getting through.

"Without any of the stagehands or performers finding his body? You know just as well as I that he died just before intermission." Matt countered deftly, invigorated by a sense of triumph. Silence fell between the two for long moments before Abjib spoke again.

"How do you know all of this?"

"There's small difference between detective work and reporting," Matt grinned. "I did the same as you... and asked around..." the reporter fell eerily silent, eyes trained on the window on the far side of the room. "Inspector..."

Mohammad Abjib took his cue from Matt's tone, and did the same.

"Merde!" The Inspector hissed. Silhouetted by the city, a shadowy figure stood, wearing what could only be assumed as an opera cloak. It hovered in the shadows of the balcony, eyes seen by their reflective cat like quality. The inspector snatched his side arm from its holster and aimed it. how in heavens name did he climb all the way up here with out any of my men knowing? Hairs on the back of his neck thoroughly raised, Abjib cocked the hammer.

"Do it!" Matt whispered urgently. Moments passed and the shadow departed as swiftly as it appeared. Silence reigned in the room.

"Well, you saved my life," Matt commented, with a suspicious blend of bitterness and gratitude. "But you have just condemned Christine." Abjib was taken aback by that, lowering his firearm to his side.

"What do you mean?"

"You know exactly who that was," Matt stated vehemently, eyeing the inspector angrily. "The whole world knows who that was. Not a single person in New York City would see him and not instantly recognize him. And we know how this story ends."

"Where is she?"

A/N- well, this was inspiring! Hope you all enjoyed! and remember, the more reviews, the faster I type!