An American Home

Loss

The hansom cab that conveyed the children and Madame Giry through the streets was packed tightly. Gustav still hadn't said a word, staring at the others with wide eyes. Crutchie kept his eye on the boy, concerned about his behavior. Cordelia had latched onto the normally stern French woman, and Pip was half leaning out the window.

The eleven year old boy clearly was too worried to stay in one seat. “I see smoke!” he shouted the moment the carriage turned onto the street. His tone was horrified. “Everyone's in the street! I think the house is on fire!”

“What?” Crutchie exclaimed, leaning towards the window. He wasn't really surprised when Pip, instead of answering, opened the door and jumped out of the moving vehicle. “Pip!”

It wasn't a moment later when the driver slowed down. “Too many people in the street,” he called back in explanation. “I think the house you were going to is on fire.”

As quickly as he could, Crutchie scrambled for the door. His lame foot became caught on the edge of the door frame, and he ended up pitching out of the vehicle. He landed in an ungraceful heap and struggled to get up. There were people running towards the fire, and he knew all too well that a lame boy on the street would easily get trampled on.

A foot came down on his arm, proving his fear right, and he yelped in pain. “Fool boy!” Madame Giry hissed, stepping down beside him. She pulled him up, and Crutchie used her to get his balance back. “Come on. Let's see if we can keep this from getting any worse.”

Leaning on his temporary crutch, the boy hurried through the crowd. Madame Giry was close behind them, Cordelia in her arms and Gustav clutching her skirt. Once they reached the yard, Crutchie spotted Michaela D'Arcy clutching Pip, who was fighting to get free. “Pip, there's nothing you can do,” the young woman was shouting, trying to get the boy's attention. Tears were running down her face. “Pip, please! Stop!”

Rose Lodge was in flames.

Horrified, Crutchie stared up at the destruction of the house that had proved to be the safest place he'd ever known. The servants were in tears, and Anne was sobbing hysterically. There was no sign of Katherine among them, which only meant... “No,” he couldn't help breathing. “Not Katherine. Not like this.”

“It is Paris all over again,” Madame Giry said, staring at the fire.

Grim faced, Jonathon and another unknown man were holding Arden between them. The man was laughing. “They found that man in the yard,” Mrs. D'Arcy said, her voice trembling with sadness.

“Katherine!”

At Erik's panicked shout, everyone not attempting to fight the fire turned. The unmasked man pushed his way through the crowd towards the burning house. “Erik, no!” Jane exclaimed, jumping forward. She grabbed his arm, putting all her weight into holding him back. “You can't go in there. They've already tried. Its no use.”

“The secret tunnels!” Erik snarled. “She's there. She has to be!”

“Don't you think we tried?” Jane responded in desperation. “She wasn't there. We stayed until the smoke was too strong. She didn't come out.”

Shrugging her off, Erik barreled forward. Henri rushed after him. “Erik, don't!” the man shouted. “Getting yourself killed won't solve anything! Think of Pip. And Crutchie! They need you now, more than ever.”

It took the combined effort of Henri, Abraham, and two strangers to finally stop Erik's progress. Grief twisted his face even more as he sagged to the ground. The men released him and Henri stood beside him, his shoulders shaking with sobs.

Pip stopped fighting and was openly crying in Michaela's arms. Somehow, Crutchie couldn't find any tears in his eyes as he stared at the scene. Raoul de Chagny came up behind them, dropping his pistol on the ground. Cordelia and Gustav's happy cries at finally seeing a familiar face were the only sounds besides the shout of the workers and the sobs of the grief stricken family. And the chuckles of deranged amusement from Arden.