Disclaimer: I own no characters. The plot bunny wasn't mine either (see below).
A/N: Written as part of the PFN (MFN?) Secret Santa- though posted extremely late. So Sorry About that. This was requested by Zel, the basis being a (possible) crazy Christine returning to Erik on Christmas Eve, bringing him a present… possibly a piece of Raoul. Here's what I came up with:
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Vigil
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Every vile creature of the earth is well aware that night is the opportune time to work their mischief. Christmas Eve, however, presents another matter entirely. Just as high society satiates its eternal ennui with parties and obligatory family gatherings, so does the lower class amuse itself with the season's revelries. Thus, as the moon flew high overhead and Christmas stars littered the spacious sky, did one billowing figure steal through the night. A single shadow unnoticed by humanity.
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Christmas. Oh, how he had once yearned to join with the festivities of such a season; had longed to raise his voice up in carols along with the rest of mankind. Over the years that fervent wish had dimmed, much like the dying fire before him, before becoming distorted- morphing into a contempt which bordered on revulsion. Yet, for the first time in what seemed an eternity, he felt content to think upon the season without any disgust- actually allowed the strains of imaginary carols to float through comforting darkness. For with carols came the heavenly choir which was reputed to sing them. With angels came thoughts of the ethereal being that had flown from this place in months past. How might she be spending this night? Perhaps evoking a glorious melody, happily twirling to candlelight and star shine? And upon the heels of her speculated joy came memories of the single sliver of bliss she had shared with him.
No, Erik dare not move- even to stoke the fire. For in his meditations and memories lay all the warmth and light one such as he would ever need. All he would ever hope for.
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If the clock upon the mantle had not been neglected these past months, he would have noticed it was just eleven as his silent reverie was broken. Yet, it was obviously not the daring bells which shattered his thoughts. An even more compelling noise had startled him- a manifestation of distant memories. He had almost convinced himself that it was simply imagination when he heard it again. A faint rustling at the farthest edges of the room… a sound which could be mistaken for an elegant lady's dress. But could it truly be? They said angels walked the earth on this night, but did they dare traipse through Hell as well?
He had turned before even realizing what he was doing. Yet, he did not regret such an unplanned action once he beheld what lay in the darkness before him. An apparition bathed in flickering amber and misty ebony met his eyes. They stared at one another for a moment, the silence deeper than ever before. He had almost convinced himself it was simply his mind's idea of a cruel trick when she suddenly stepped forward, uttering his name.
"Oh, Erik! It has been such a long time…"
Without awaiting any sign from him, she rushed over, placing herself at his feet, gazing up at him through eyes of shimmering crystal.
He couldn't breathe, could barely think as he beheld the one he though lost forever sitting before him. His mind seemed a blank slate, all thoughts of the past and all things he could have said at present were lost to him. All except for one single word.
"Christine…" he whispered as he took her appearance in.
She was as beautiful as she had ever been and more lovely than even his memories could do justice to. Yet there was a slight difference in her countenance. Though she was dressed in all her fashionable regalia of green velvet- so dark it was almost black- there was something a bit dangerous about her. The silken curls of her hair were falling around her shoulders, rebelliously freeing themselves from her updo. She seemed too thin, too pale, and there was a strange glistening in her eyes- wild and darker than he had ever before seen.
He suddenly noticed the parcel at her side, less consistent with her lovely person and more fit for a poor man upon the street. A ragged piece of cloth wrapped with twine- both the color of faded rust- was a most strange companion for her to bring on her journey.
A quick glance upon her unblinking eyes confirmed his suspicion that she would have been content to look upon him for the rest of the night. However, his curiosity had gotten the better of him. He couldn't help but ask her about the strange package.
"Christine," he started, "what is that parcel you have there?"
A slight tilt of the head was his only sign she had heard.
"Oh… that?"
He nodded in reply.
A small giggle… a giggle, of all things, escaped her lips as she replied. "Well, you will just have to wait until Christmas for your gift! It won't be long, you know, and I shall be marking the time by the ticking of the clock!"
He stared at her in stunned silence. Wait until Christmas? But he needed to know now. Then again, he couldn't remember when he had last received such a gift. Perhaps a little more waiting couldn't hurt…
"Oh, don't look so distressed, dear angel!" Christine cried, having divined his true reaction, "It really shan't be long. Will you tell me a story while we wait?"
How could he ever deny her request? It would not be long, and Christine was listening for the time as he waited. Thus, he began telling her a story, filling her head with fantastic images. As he lost himself to the joy upon her face, he even allowed himself to forget that no clock existed to mark the time by.
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"Stop!" cried a crystalline voice- and in during the most exciting part of the tale, too.
He, of course, complied to her wishes.
"What is the matter?" he inquired.
"Erik, you didn't hear the clock? It just struck midnight!" her strange eyes glared in annoyance.
"I am afraid I didn't, dear." And truly… he heard no such thing. In fact, he remembered, he hadn't heard any clocks in days, perhaps even weeks.
Her face softened immediately. "Oh, it's no matter! Now you may open your gift!"
With childish glee, she grabbed at her package and shoved it upon his lap. It had barely sat there for a second before she cried,
"Open it, Erik! Open it!"
And so he did. The twine was removed easily enough as the knot was tied so hastily, he was surprised it hadn't fallen off. However, once he moved to open the rusty colored cloth, he found the rope hadn't been necessary in the first place. For the fabric was so stiff, he wondered if it had been starched. But why would anyone starch such a rag? He peeled back the wrapping, utterly at loss as to what might be hidden inside. Yet, even his wildest imaginings couldn't have prepared him for what truly lay there. He was at loss for words, his head spinning… how ever could his innocent little Christine procure such a gift? He took in one long shuddering breath…
…and she mistook it for speechless joy.
"Oh, I knew you would understand! I knew you would see what I was trying to show you!"
She stood suddenly, towering over his sitting form, gazing down with hollowed eyes, mad eyes which seemed never to blink, never to move.
"I wanted to give you all my love, my angel, and what better gift to give on Christmas? And do not despair and think I could never give all my love! Do not believe that I could not manage such a thing. I have been thorough, as you see!"
He glanced up at her face. The flickering firelight illuminating her beauty and demonically distorting it simultaneously as she continued speaking.
"For I have made such to gouge out all the bits of true love- all and any- I may have bestowed upon any- and all for you, dear Erik, all for you!"
His head and heart were pounding both from her declarations of love and the fear of what might have come over her. He fancied this was the type of fanciful sound Christine had kept time by, though the pounding heart was most likely not her own. Young girls were taught that love was kept within the heart, were they not? Then she had done exactly as she said. She had procured every last bit she had ever given.
For there upon his lap lie a human heart, still glistening with unshed blood. The sheet itself was not starched, only soaked and dried within that fatal liquid. And, so he could make no mistake as to exactly what lie before him, embroidered in scrolling letters which may once have been gold, were the initials R. de C. They stared at each other, one in speechless horror, the other in maddened joy. And as the pounding within his mind grew louder, her words echoed around him.
"All for you, dear Erik, I have done it all for you!"
Fin.
A/N: Well, that took a while to write. Not sure how good it came out, but hopefully not too bad? Took me a while to figure out why Christine might kill Raoul… but there you go! I did have a bit of trouble with this, as I've never written a "Christine comes back" fic. But, hopefully it wasn't too bad? Anyway, comments and critiques are always welcome!