Another

I stood silently upon the roof of the Paris Opera House. Lightening and thunder seemed to wage war on the sky; casting the grand city in a slightly menacing light. Rain pelted the ground as hard, sharp needles. My light cloak would've offered no aid, but I was protected by the vast statue of Apollo.

The storm echoed my thoughts. Turbulent. Angry. Indecisive. My life had changed so much in the past few weeks…

I was thrust into the limelight when the reigning Diva became ill.

I rediscovered my childhood when Raoul De Changy appeared in my dressing room.

I discovered that… there was no Angel of Music… only Erik… and then realized that he was the Opera Ghost…

Then came the most stupid, thoughtless, terrible decision I've ever had the displeasure of committing. I removed Erik's mask, without his consent…. I've never seen someone so utterly enraged and defeated… for past his great anger was a depth of pain so vast, I thought it would consume us both.

I toyed with the ring on my finger. The one he had given me so that we would both remember our promises. A tear ran down my cheek. I was so confused: lost in the sea of emotion. More then ever I wished for my Father to be alive, to be here with me, helping me through this.

But he isn't. I must figure this out myself, or we're all doomed. Unless it was already too late to escape that fate…

With a heavy sigh echoed by thunder, I did my best to put aside most of my turbulent thoughts, so I could make a rational and fair decision… Easier said then done. For in this case, there were so many shades of grey.

First, there was Raoul. I knew him as a child, he used to play and listen to my Father as he told us stories. We were sweetheart, I believe, the only thing that separated us was his title of nobility – which was of little consequence to us at that age… And then he moved… and my father… passed on… and we both grew up. Now, after nearly a decade he reappeared, eager to sweep me off my feet and away from the nightmare of confusion that has threatened to become my end. His is my light… my knight in shining armor… just like our games as children. In the very back of my mind, I knew that we had both grown up and changed, and that I had no right to fancy myself in love with a man I hardly knew… but it was very much at the back of my mind.

And then, there was Erik. He came to me almost six months ago, pretending to be the Angel of Music that my Father promised me. And, like the child I was – or perhaps still am – I believed him blindly. Sometimes I wonder what would've happened if I'd put more thought into his persona, maybe I could've saved us all the heartbreak yet to come… Regardless, he soon brought me out of the self-imposed, figurative prison I'd locked myself in since my Father's passing. He gave my voice wings to soar high above what even my Father might've hoped. He gave music back to me. But then, I found out he was only a man; a broken, and miserable man who lived under the opera to hide from the world. Looking back, I do not hold the charade against him, he has done more good then harm, after all! So how could I hold it against him? No, I forgave him… but his temper. I was never sure that what I said or did might send him into another fit. I was only just realizing that he would never hurt me – he never even touched me without my consent! Erik, with his genius regarding all things, his voice of an Angel, and his face of… I sighed. His face… Poor Erik! His life must have been so hard!

And so my choice drew closer. Did I choose my old friend, who I knew would be a safe choice – even if I didn't know him well. Or did I choose my Angel – for he would always be my Angel of Music – who was not quite as dangerous as some think, but was still one to be cautions around.

Suddenly, the shadows took shape before me. The figure was indistinguishable for a moment, but as the lightening lit the clouds, I saw the familiar cape and fedora… Erik. I didn't dare move, or even breathe. I wasn't ready to face him yet, not until my choice was made… though he appeared so wrapped within his own thoughts that he didn't seem to even notice me! He just stared into the sky, allowing the rain to soak through cloth and skin alike. His head turned slightly, and then I was able to glimpse his eyes. His eyes. Ever changing, sometimes soft, honey-colored or gold, sometimes a dark, angry red … or passionate amber. I shivered, though his face was sometimes hidden, his thoughts and emotions were always laid bare before me through the mysterious depths that were his eyes.

It suddenly occurred to me that I had never looked at Raoul's eyes that way before… I had never looked at his so intensely, nor had I seen such intensity displayed in them…

But that's beside the point… I couldn't quite convince myself that the fact would hold no sway in my decision…

Erik still made no movement, only his depthless cape dared to shift, being twisted and torn by the silent wind. He seemed so lost to the world in that moment… The world… He's seen the World, hasn't he? Yes, I knew a good deal of his dark past in Persia. An involuntary shuddered came at the memory. He had done terrible, terrible things there… It took a long while to convince Erik's friend, Nadir Kahn, to tell me what he knew… but I realized if I were ever to make a truly fair decision, I would have to know at least some of his past. Once I learned, I knew why M. Kahn had been so reluctant in telling me… For the first time, nightmares of what Erik had done – not what he looked like – plagued my thoughts. Erik had caused so much pain and destruction, ruined many lives, even tortured! Miraculously, though, the horror lessoned upon hearing of his pledge. I wanted to – and did – believe that Erik would never kill again, as he had promised M. Kahn. And he hasn't! I could never recall a time when the Phantom killed, despite the havoc he might've wrought. Not even Bouquet! M. Kahn had told me that the man had accidentally stumbled into a trap, and, had Erik been home, he would've saved the man! In fact, when M. Kahn went to confront Erik about it, he did seem regretful that he Bouquet had died! For that, I was thankful. If Erik had truly put his past behind him, then so would I. And if the Lord could forgive murderers… so can I!

His jealous, possessive nature was yet another matter to think about. I had surmised that the former might ease some as I gained more of his trust. But the latter made me a bit nervous. I had heard tales of women being locked in the house once they were married, never to step foot outside again. True, it was unlikely he would do that to me. After all, he had the opportunity when I was first taken down to his home, but he let me go with a promise. Perhaps he might've let me go sooner, if I had behaved properly and not removed his mask!...

Movement – or lack thereof – brought me to reality once again. Erik seemed to have disappeared into thin air. I heaved another sigh; even the storm had eased some. Thunder. But not entirely. With a muffled sob, my emotions began to overwhelm me once again. No! I mustn't give in yet. I have to make a decision first!

A sudden terror gripped my heart at the memory of his rage after I had removed his mask – what a stupid thing to do! What am I, a child?!... my father might very well be ashamed of me, had he heard about it! His face was never so horrid as when he was in a fit of rage. I had hardly known him then – if I had known him at all. But his face wasn't such a horror once he had calmed down – I was even getting used to seeing it, as I had insisted he didn't wear it when I visited! Soon, it won't be an… issue. Not that I would've based my decision on something as shallow as his appearance! I was raised better then that!

Yet again, his temper worried me. True he hadn't become as angry as… that night. But I still had to worry. He had never hurt me, and I didn't think he ever would, but I knew very well that if I choose him, there would be no turning back if he were to suddenly… become violent. Try as I might, however, my mind could conjure no image or scene of him acting so, and I felt a peace at that. I didn't think I had to worry, but it was something I needed to face, nonetheless.

And then, there was his intense, all-consuming self-loathing, self-deprecating insecurities. I had to realize that he was unstable. Emotionally, anyway. He would need someone to watch and comfort him as much as I, if not more. Though, perhaps some circumstances would be different, I knew that for the most part I would have to truly grow up and face the responsibilities of being with him. He wouldn't believe me at first. He might even try to push me away in his quest to condemn himself forever. I would have to be mindful, and patient to convince him. And for the rest of my life, it was quite possible I would have to watch what I said, how I said it, and be willing to forgive any undue mistrust on his part. If he had never known love or lived peacefully – 'normally' – among other people, and sadly, I had to believe that this was the case. Therefore, I couldn't always expect him to act rationally… The thought if him bringing me from my dressing room into his home down below came to mind again. And, again, I realized I could not entirely blame him for that – I had, after all, provoked him with my words of unending, unconditional obedience and devotion. I had practically promised myself to him! No, I will not blame the poor man for that.

Lightening lit up the city as thunder consumed the air. Had I not been so lost in thought, I might've jumped. Storms had always held a special-ness for me. My Father would always make time, no matter how busy he was, to play his violin and tell me stories whenever one rolled through. I now realized that they might very well always remind me of this night as well – of the choice I would make.

I sighed again, realizing that I had spent the majority of my time thinking of Erik… Raoul, by comparison, seemed to have no faults. But that is absurd. Everyone has faults. I had lived long enough to see that sad fact. He was rather eager to think, and treat, me as a child – and perhaps, I still was. Yet, I was confident that with time, he would see that I, too, was grown. His desire to tell me what to do also worried me, but perhaps, that too would pass with time…

If I were to choose Raoul, he would always treat me well. I would never have to worry about his temper, or wonder if anything I said would end up hurting him. We would be well off, and able to support a family. But I knew that to gain all this, I would have to give up my music. Forever. A Viscountess could not be an opera singer – it would disgrace and sully the family name beyond redemption.

Can I really live without music? It was my life, my sole reason for being – or it had become so once I met Erik… If I choose him, I would always have music's sweet embrace – for he was music, and so much more. But he is also darkness, isn't he? We would live in darkness, wouldn't we? I was unsure. Then again, would it be so terrible? We could have outings. Erik often spoke of walking among other couples on Sunday evenings. He must know what total solitude would do to me! And then there was the question of how we would live… Obviously I could not say one way or another about his finical standing. But, he did have a very elegant home and the Opera Ghost was said to collect a 'salary' for many years…

So then what? I inhaled deeply, catching the heavy, freeing scent of rain. Upon reflection, I had spent a good deal of time thinking of Erik and rationalizing his behaviors and actions… did that mean something? And another thought, I had known for a long while that Raoul could have any other woman in the world, his face would not be an obstacle, and his status would only help him! But Erik seemed to have condemned himself, only ever reaching for one thing. Me… Why was such a horrible choice thrust upon me?! I was barely eighteen.

A sigh. One way or another, someone would be hurt beyond what was fair.

One way or another. Two lives rested in my hand.

One Way – Light…

Another – Darkness.

Silence.

Tears of freedom and guilt fell to the ground. I stepped into the rain, smiling despite its cold bite.

And then I ran. I ran with such intensity, I thought I might trip on several occasions. I ran until I was more then breathless. Ran, and ran, and ran.

And then, I was there. I knocked upon the ordinarily extraordinary wooden door, trying to calm myself, and failing happily.

The door opened quickly, a man stood, just as soaked as I.

"Ch-Christine!?" He looked at me, clearly distressed by my state.

I couldn't care less, I smiled, tears still in my eyes. Embracing him fiercely, I attempted to hold back any sobs. Several seconds later, I stepped away.

Curious wonder filled his eyes. Those beautiful amber eyes.

And in that moment – despite the hardships we were sure to face – I knew I had made the right choice.