A/N: This was my first effort of making an angst phic. Well, when I began to write it, the story really didn't come this way, it turned to be more a drama one. Anyway, I'm content with it. You may also call it a songfic, if you want. But I don't think it is exactly one. I was simply hearing the latest Nightwish record, Century Child, for the thousandth time and some passages called my attention, it was as if they had been written to a phanphic. And, in some way, they may had been inspired in the Phantom, since there's a cover version of the song The Phantom of the Opera – a very different and heavy metal-styled one, I may add – in this same CD. The quotes here belong, respectively, to one short verse in the Century Child that doesn't belong to any song at all, to the lovely Ocean Soul and to the first part of the song Beauty of the Beast. This said, all I ask of you is to, please, review and tell me what you thought about this story. Your comments always mean a lot to me, they're the reason why I cannot stop writing.
Disclaimer: None of the characters here belong to me. They were created by Gaston Leroux, introduced into the musical world by Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber and rewritten by Susan Kay. And, I may add, those guys did a really good work. They're just lending me Erik, Christine and the Fop for some time… and I'm grateful for this :)
"The only true love I ever knewwas behind those downcast eyes
The only comfort I ever felt
was during those long hours of loneliness
when I felt for you"
"Christine, I love you..."
The words still echoed in her mind so clear, so sincere, so painfully spoken that she could swear they were coming from somewhere else but her own racing thoughts. She knew she would never forget their final moment. Erik's pleading expression and the last cold touch of his hand when she had given back his ring would be painted on her heart for the rest of her life, just like his divine music would survive in her ears. And for the rest of her life she would regret her own silence after his declaration...
Christine, I love you…Christine…
"Christine!" Raoul robbed her thoughts for a second or two as he shouted next to the gondola.
She blessed the darkness in that place and the considerable distance between them. It was for the better that he couldn't see the solitary tear rolling down her cheek. She didn't love the Vicomte, this she had always known. She had discovered with time that she loved that mysterious, secluded man she had left behind.
"Why you took so long?" Raoul asked impatiently, his hand remaining on the level of his eyes, making him look pathetic as she approached him. "Let's go."
Suddenly, the realization of what she was really doing made her stop in her tracks. She was leaving him forevermore. Waking from that strange state of unawareness, she shook her head at that thought. She could not, would not abandon him like this; Erik needed her as much as she needed him and she had to go back again, this time, to stay.
"Come on, Christine!" the young man exclaimed, gripping her arm fiercely.
"No, Raoul," she managed, backing away, "I won't go with you."
"You don't know what you're saying," he hissed. "Get into the boat now."
"This is the end, Raoul."
"The end?" he echoed, his voice filled with astonishment that was quickly replaced by rage. "Oh, yes, the end. It will be to that monster! He's still controlling you, I know!"
"No, he isn't. He never controlled me, I always came to him of my own free will and now it won't be different," she retorted with certainty.
"Oh, please, Christine! Try to understand that I'm doing all this for you. All I want is you to be happy and you know you'll be happy by my side."
The irony Raoul's words gained in her ears was like the last drop in a jar full of water. She knew she was engaged with him just because of her lack of determination – her immatureness had sent her directly to his arms and promises of security in the past. That was why she hadn't accepted Erik's ring, after all. But the whole affair was wrong; it should have been the contrary. Raoul was a dear friend, but nothing more than this. And Erik... What Erik meant to her, really? Firstly, he had been her Angel, her omnipresent tutor and the gorgeous voice behind the mirror. Although she couldn't admit to herself at the time, she had already fallen in love with him. Then, the truth had arisen when he had taken her to his lair for the first time. He had revealed his identity, showed that he wasn't a celestial being at all; he was a man – the Opera Ghost. If she didn't pull his mask away, her protector once had told her, nothing would happen to her. But soon she had given in to her curiosity and had done exactly what she had been told not to. Something had truly happened to her: slowly, so slowly that not even she could notice immediately, she had begun to see him with other eyes, eyes that didn't care at all for his appearance – eyes of love. Erik meant everything.
"If you really want me to be happy, Raoul, don't ask me such a thing," she said as evenly as she could, finally emerging from that moment of silent lucidity, renewed with a strong resolve.
"Why?" he asked using all his dramatic capacity, afraid of losing his beautiful trophy to a man that he considered inferior. "Don't you know I love you? Don't you love me?"
The mob was approaching fast; she could hear their shouts. Christine walked toward him, looking deeply into his eyes. She was aware that she was staring at Raoul for the last time and that her decisive reply would erase their childhood memories, the only thing that had truly kept them together.
"No."
She gathered her skirts, noticing that she was still wearing the wedding dress, and ran to Erik's lair.
"Christine!" Raoul cried with all the air left in his lungs, but it was too late – she no longer could hear him. Recognizing now whom she had rejected at last, he observed her white figure being gradually swallowed by the darkness.
The house was strangely silent. The piano was mute, its ivory keys appearing somehow incomplete without Erik's soft touch; the darkness was much more intense and the air was heavy with the previous tension. Yet, the sensation of comfort caused only by that singular place remained. Nothing had changed since her departure, minutes ago.
In minutes either, the mob would destroy it all. Not finding Erik, their violence would be discharged on his belongings.
"Erik!" she called, and the only reply she received was the echo of her own voice.
Where was he? She lit a few candles to illuminate her path through the house that she had grown to consider her home. Erik wasn't anywhere she searched. Instead, she found his cape and mask lying on his throne. The mask had become cold long ago, but the warmth of his cape was undeniable under her hesitant fingertips. Instinctively, she rubbed her cheek on its smooth fabric, as though it could provide the same protection of his embrace. All she wanted now was the bare love that had laid within his dark, deep eyes for so long. When they had parted after that passionate kiss, that same love had given her the certainty that she belonged by his side and now she shivered lightly at the intensity of these feelings.
Then why had Erik sent her away? She would defeat the darkness, abandon the opera, defy the pointless society, just to stay with him. Instead, he had pleaded for her to go away. Had he thought that she would not be happy with him and that let her go was the best thing to do? But she would never be happy without him. That kiss had brought the knowledge that, no matter what, they were destined to be together, if not physically at least by thoughts like these.
Could it be that after all this he was gone? She couldn't accept that fate's cruelty, even though she already felt the burden of the merciless truth. Just like her doubts about her own feelings, her beloved had disappeared forever.
"Walking the tideline, I hear your name– is angels whispering
Something so beautiful it hurts
I only wished to become something beautiful
Through my music, through my silent devotion"
Die in his lair, killed by the furious mob, was a tempting possibility that he had to refuse. He knew he would survive to their brutality like he always managed to survive when he didn't want to. Besides, the wounds within were much more hurtful than any external one would ever be.
Having no other choice, Erik left his life and the place that guarded a great part of it behind. From far away, he saw the clarity in there and wondered who dared to invade the Phantom's hideout. Perhaps a forerunner sent by the mob, perhaps Madame Giry or even the Persian. Anyone but Christine.
She wouldn't come back, that horrified child. When she had given back the ring that now he wore, he had fed the hope that she would remain by his side and had prayed silently for her to stay, seeing the lingering look in her dreamy blue eyes.
Christine was a dreamer; that was what had allowed him to approach her in the first place. She had dreamt of the Angel of Music and he had come to her, talking to her, teaching her, entrancing her with his voice, but never revealing himself. Once that angelical illusion had been shattered, she had never looked to him in the same way. Even so, his love for her had grown with each passing day and the last happenings, which had frightened her so much, had only been the result of his fear of losing his angel.
After all, his uncertainties were confirmed and she was really gone now. Yet, he had never thought that one day he would be touched with such tenderness or have her in his arms in a moment he treasured. Many times, he had wanted nothing but her touch, had longed for her proximity. Now, after that instant of fulfillment, his unwise confessions had driven her away.
Unlike her, he had never dreamt freely. His life, his sins and his appearance had forbidden him. But once he had transgressed that prohibition. He had dreamt of the day when she would come to accept his abhorrent features, enjoy his company, trust in his protection and maybe even love him. This, of course, had been an illusion.
"Christine..." he breathed desolately, hearing the sound of his own voice linger in the darkness for what seemed an eternity.
Standing on a darkened corner where he knew no one would ever find him, he let his mind wander, but no matter what he did, his thoughts whirled back to her like they had done all the time.
After many failures, the mob finally broke into his house. Gazing at their brave torches and hearing their threatening cries, Erik analyzed his ironic situation. Usually, it would be he the one to pursue, and they would scream with fear, not hate. How heartbreak could change the things! Now, it was the hunter who was decamping from his preys. Even the weakest knows when to attack a stronger enemy, especially when this enemy was hurt – that was the perfect time to definitely exterminate it.
Christine, come back to me... All my life I have been lost in the darkness, without any guidance. You're my guide and my light now. Don't leave me here in the dark! His silent pleas meant nothing to him, not if they wouldn't bring her back.
Minutes before the mob's invasion, Christine left the house through a hidden passage Erik had shown her long ago.
She stared at the languid waters of the lake from a retired part of the shore and embraced herself, thinking. Words were nothing and everything in a lifetime. They could change the world, decide one's destiny, suppress a talent. But much more than this, the words could reveal the happiness someone had always been seeking for. What would have been of Erik and her if she had said the right words?
She tried to imagine, closing her eyes solemnly. Murmured to the darkness, the words finally left the bottom of her soul to reach the ears of the other lamenting being that was hidden not too far from her. He took them as wind's console; somehow telling him what he had longed to hear for all his sad existence,
"And I love you too, Erik."
"Will we find each other in the dark,my long lost love?"