Beneath a Moonless Sky
Summary: Erik and Christine remember their passionate night together before he left. Spoilers, if you haven't seen or heard of Love Never Dies. Rewrite of a previous fan fiction.
-x-
Hurt.
That was the only feeling that was running through Christine Daae's veins as she put her young son to bed. She had stood by her husband through everything; battled their money woes and stuck by him through thick and thin, but he made her feel tiny; almost obsolete. Closing her eyes for a moment, she sighed deeply, willing the tears that brimmed in her eyes away. She could not let anything get her down. She would sing for Hammerstein, get paid and go home with her family. That was all she could do. Moving away from Gustave's door – and her thoughts of Raoul and his drinking - back to the piano in the centre of the hotel room, she kicked off her shoes next to the stool before she was startled by the little musical box on the floor. A light shone from within it, illuminating the toy as it began to move and play an eerily familiar tune. She picked the toy up from the floor and moved to the piano, inspecting it before she put it down. No, it could not be, she thought to herself, shaking her head of any thoughts. She felt a presence in the room with her, but she tried to ignore it and shake off the feeling. Suddenly, her eyes were drawn to the balcony doors when they began to open by themselves. Her heart almost stopped beating in her chest when she saw him. There he stood, in all his masked glory, staring back at her. She felt her chest rise and fall rapidly before she found it difficult to breathe, falling to the floor as her legs gave way beneath her.
"Christine." He could barely breathe out the word as he saw her fall. He had shocked her, most definitely. Moving quickly across the hotel room, he knelt at her side, looking down at her angelic face once more. Oh, how he had missed her beauty. He rolled her onto her back, sliding his hands around her waist, pulling her up to wrap her arms around his neck while he lifted her from the floor, into his arms. He closed his eye briefly, relishing in the moment that she was finally in his arms again. Carrying her to her chair, he placed her down gently before he knelt in front of her. Stretching out a hand, he intended to touch her cheek gently, but she chose to open her eyes, and the fear in her eyes was there once more. She gasped out loud. "Christine?" His voice was no more than a pitiful whisper once more.
"You? How ... how can you be here?" she asked, her voice betraying her anger. She shook her head quickly, as if when she looked up, he would have been a mere figment of her imagination. Looking deep into his eyes, she let the full extent of her anger be known. "Was it all a lie? A lie to fool everyone?" Standing from her chair, she placed a hand over her heart, her breathing irregular and her face turning red in fury. "Did you intend on letting me think that your death would be our story's end? How ... how dare you come and claim me now?" She could feel the tears once more, more so from her anger. "How dare you?"
"Christine, if you had known the pain I've known then you would have known that I had no choice," he said. She seemed to drop her eyes from his for a moment before looking back at him. He lifted a hand slowly to touch her cheek. "My Christine ..." he whispered, but his hand was slapped away hard.
"Your Christine?" she mocked. Balling her fists, she pummelled one of them into his chest, not hard enough to hurt him, hard enough to let him know the pain he caused her. The other fist joined in and she landed a few hard thumps to his chest. He grabbed her wrists to stop her, her back against the wall as he held her. "Your Christine? I was yours one brief night long ago." Her eyes left his once more as he held her, her cheeks turning pink at the memory. "I remember that night, Erik." His heart hammered in his chest in happiness to hear his name fall from her lips, finally. "I remember it like it was yesterday. I remember how you left me; unclothed, cold and alone in that place you called home. I remember everything and have remembered every day and night for the past ten years. You left me." Her voice broke and the tears fell down her cheeks. "You left me." Erik felt his own tears build but he would not cry in front of her. Christine pulled her wrists from his grasp and moved away from him, leaning on the piano to hold herself up; her legs shaking uncontrollably. "I no longer know you. You are not as you once were. You were my Angel of Music; my everything. But you murdered and mocked and threatened, yet I still wanted you"
"You came and found where I hid, on purpose. Do not deny that you did, Christine," he said, watching as she shook her head, trying to deny it to herself. "That long ago night." Christine could feel the warmth of his body behind her and she stood her ground, but when his hands touched the bare skin of her neck, her resolve melted and she was under his spell once more.
"Once there was a night ..."
-x-
Christine felt sick. It was the night before her wedding to Raoul de Chagny. Tomorrow, in front of his noble family, the family who hated her, and before God, she would become the Vicomtess de Chagny; a title she did not care for having. Any woman would be happy with that, but Christine did not want it. She had retired to bed, locking her bedroom door behind her after a feud with his family at the dinner table. His mother, vile woman, had taken it upon herself to decide everything that would happen with their wedding. Raoul, wholeheartedly, agreed with everything his darling mother would say and Christine would sit there, silent as the grave, but seething on the inside. So she had retired to bed with an excuse, wanting nothing more than the ground to open up and swallow her whole. She had never felt so alone in her entire life. She needed to speak to someone else, other than a de Chagny, other than her maids. Someone who would listen to her and not interrupt. That was when the idea struck her. Moving to her wardrobe, she pulled out a riding dress, pulling the garment on over her underclothes. She would visit her father's grave once more before she married Raoul. She had heard his family leave and Raoul go to bed, so she could sneak out of the window and be back before morning. She slid on her shoes and moved towards the window.
Christine pulled open the large glass doors onto her balcony and stepped out. Luckily, a trellis, with growing ivy, scaled the side of the building right next to Christine's room. Christine climbed onto the trellis and began to climb down the side of de Chagny manor. She reached the ground in no time, running around the manor to the stables to saddle her horse.
"Mademoiselle Daae?" said a voice from behind her. She started, before she turned and saw the stable hand, Thomas, standing there watching her. "Are you alright, Mademoiselle? Do you need help with anything?" Christine swallowed hard.
"Would you be so kind as to saddle this horse for me, please Thomas. And I would appreciate it if there was no mention to the Vicomte about this. I need to visit my father's grave one more time before Raoul and I marry. Please do not tell him I was gone," Christine begged the young boy. Thomas nodded.
"As you wish, my lady," he said before he grabbed the nearest saddle and pulled the snowy white mare from her stall, getting to work on readying her for the ride ahead. Christine stood at the entrance of the stables, looking up to the stars in the sky, clutching the locket around her neck. Father, help me, she thought to herself. What was she to do? How could she marry Raoul? She was not the one to become a Vicomtess, especially when her heart and mind lay with another. That other haunted her dreams every night, assaulted her senses; she could still feel his lips against her own, his smell within her nostrils. "Mademoiselle?" She was shaken from her thoughts when Thomas spoke to her, making her turn to him. The white mare was saddled, ready for departure. Thomas extended his hand, ready to help her up onto the horse. She took it with thanks before climbing on.
"Remember, no word of this to the Vicomte. I will be home shortly," Christine said, squeezing the horses' sides with her heels, setting off into the snowy night.
-x-
Her visit to her father's grave had gone as well as she could have hoped. She sat on the steps to his tomb, just staring at the name above the door as she spilled out all of her confessions to him, hoping and praying he was listening to her from Heaven. She told him of Raoul; how he had come back into her life and was now forcing her into a life of nobility that she did not want. She told him of the one man that haunted her dreams, the man her father had apparently sent to be her Angel of Music, how her heart still resided in the dark and dusty cellars of the Opera Populaire with him. She told him of her love for him; how his voice made her spirit begin to soar. She let her tears flow, whispered that she could not do it anymore, she could not marry Raoul. Once all the tears had been shed, Christine approached the tomb and placed the bunch of roses she had brought with her into the stone vase by the door. She pressed a kiss to her gloved fingers before she pressed them to the stone, hoping in some way he would know she was there.
"I love you, Papa," she whispered before turning back to the horse that was waiting patiently at the end of the path. Patting the beast's nose, she mounted the horse once more, intent on heading home to the comfort of her bed, out of the cold. But without realising, as the horse slowly walked back towards de Chagny manor, she ended up outside the Opera Populaire, a gasp rising from her throat when she came out of her day dream. Did she dare? Did she dare see if the angel was still living? There was no way he could be. She looked up at the charred and blackened remains of the once glorious building, silently mourning. But she found herself climbing down off the horse once more and walking, almost trancelike, towards the broken doors. She climbed over the broken wood, making sure her dress did not catch, and into the opera. The sudden stale smell of smoke made her gag and she moved through the once grand foyer and up the staircase, memories of the masked ball and all the gold and silver, shimmering in the candlelight, as well as the crimson red of Red Death, appearing in the middle of the gold. Shaking her head once more, she moved up to the auditorium, moving in the back, taking in the destruction of the once magnificent chandelier, lying half in the orchestra pit, half on the stage. The memories of that night were not good ones but she had to think of the future now, not the past. Leaving the ruined auditorium, she made her way to her old dressing room without hesitation. The door was broken in half, the wood blackened with soot. Pushing the remains out of the way, she walked in and immediately came face to face with her reflection in the full length mirror, also covered in a dusting of soot. She walked closer, transfixed by her own reflection as she shrugged off her coat, dropping it into the dust on the floor, which came up around her like a ghostly mist. One hand moved out in front of her and she pressed it to the glass, cold beneath her skin. She closed her eyes for a moment.
"Angel of Music, I denied you, forgive me," she whispered gently to the mirror, before sliding her hands the side to find the catch, listening to it click before the mirror slid open in front of her, just like the first night she was taken to his home. Christine could feel her heart ready to burst from her chest as she looked down the dark passageway. It seemed to be the only part of the opera house so far that had gone unharmed. Water dripped from a crack in the ceiling, echoing around the passageway; the only sound. Christine closed her eyes for a moment, gathering the courage to walk down the stone corridor. Placing one foot in front of the other, she urged herself on, just to satisfy her curiosity. Her heart was in her throat as she moved further and further into the darkness. She wondered if this was how dark Hell was, as he had described his home as such a place. Suddenly, as the passageway opened up into a larger area, she could see candlelight at the end. Christine hurried down further, only to come to the lake. Two candles were alight, one on each side of the small canal, but there was no boat. Did she dare hope? Doubling back, excitement flooding her, she found a secret passageway hidden in the stone, moving down it quickly. More candlelight could be seen. Her heartbeat quickened once more as she finally walked out of the small passageway and out into the lair. His lair. But her heart sank when she looked around.
His home was a complete mess. Furniture upturned; artwork burned; sheets of music ripped and scattered all over the stone floor. Rushing forward, the sound of her heels on the stone echoing, she grabbed the sheet music from the ground, holding it gently in her hand. Looking around once more, she did not know whether she should give up.
"Angel?" she said, hoping her was here. But there didn't seem to be any hope. She felt her lip quivering and her eyes brim with tears. Had the mob gotten to him and killed him? Had he escaped, living a new life somewhere else, away from her? Was he happy? Looking down at the music in her hands, labelled Don Juan Triumphant, she pressed a small kiss to the paper. "Oh, my Angel. Please forgive me."
"For what, my dear Vicomtess?" came a sudden voice from behind her, causing her to drop the sheet music and scramble quickly to her feet. She turned to the voice, her breath catching in her throat as her gaze landed on him, her angel of music, alive and well. Bringing her hand to her mouth in shock, she fought to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. There he was, her beautiful angel, watching her. But she recognised the anger in his eyes. "It is the Vicomtess de Chagny, am I correct?" His voice was like liquid passion, flowing over her, making her hair stand on end on the back of her neck.
"Well, no ... at least, not yet," she whispered. He had his mask on, his shirt and waistcoat. The shirt was unbuttoned at the neck, baring his throat to her. She wanted to move forward and touch him there, to feel that he was real. "I ... I am to be married tomorrow morning." He scoffed at her.
"And I am assuming you are not here to bestow an invitation to the wedding of the year?" he mocked, moving closer to her. Christine stood her ground, her eyes watching his every move. "Very well then, Miss Daae." He said her surname with force. "Why are you here?" Christine finally dropped her gaze from his.
"I came to see you before ..." she took a deep breath."... before ..."
"I am waiting, Miss Daae. You try my patience," he said. Those words echoed in her mind, from those weeks ago when they had stood here, Raoul's neck in a noose. You try my patience; make your choice. She felt scared, but only for a moment. She took a deep breath.
"I came to see if you still lived here. If you were even alive. I came to see you before I go off and make the biggest mistake of my life. I do not want to marry Raoul," she said. She turned away from him, ashamed to see the look on his face. But all that she could focus on was the sinister laughter that left his lips. Turning back to him, she watched him laugh at her, mock her.
"You left your cosy little bed with the Vicomte, for what? To come and say goodbye? You left me here. You went with your boy and you broke my heart; now you come here and you break it all over again with your words," he seethed, trying to control the rage that was waiting to burst free. Christine was suddenly across the room and in front of him, her hands on his chest. He flinched like her touch had burned him, but other than that he stood his ground.
"You sent me away. You told me to make my choice and I did. I chose you, but you sent me away with Raoul," she said. He flinched once more as the boy's name was mentioned but he did not answer her. "You told me to take the boat and go, so I did, because I thought that was what you wanted me to do. You do not understand how much I have longed to see you."
"I do not need your pity, mademoiselle," he said, gently. He tried to move away from her but she grabbed the material of his waistcoat in her small fists.
"I do not pity you. I could have been happy with you if you had realised I had chosen you for a reason, not just to save Raoul," she said. "I loved you." He froze in her grasp, trying to get those three words to wrap around his brain properly. He suddenly gripped her shoulders, pulling her closer to his body.
"I love you, Christine," he said, his resolve crumbling. "You know I do. I have since I first heard you sing. Why do you torment me so? I tried so hard to put you from my mind once you were gone, but here you are, making me ache for you all over again. Why do you put me through this?" He suddenly sank to his knees before her, his hands settled at her waist, and pressed his forehead to her stomach. "You are my weakness, Christine Daae." Christine closed her eyes and took a deep breath before she lifted one hand and stroked it through his hair. She heard his sharp intake of breath at her touch. Looking down at him, she removed his hands from her waist before she knelt down in front of him. His eyes lifted from the ground before she suddenly cupped his unmasked cheek.
"Can I know the name of my Angel of Music?" she asked him, almost in a whisper. He swallowed hard, as if it was difficult for him to say his own name. He nodded gently.
"No one has used my name in a very long time; not since my mother. But my name is Erik," he said. He watched as a radiant smile graced her perfect features before he lifted his own hand, slowly moving to run it through her curls. He took a deep breath at just that simple touch to her hair, unable to fathom that she was here with him once more.
"Erik," she said gently, the sound of his name leaving her lips absolute bliss. Their eye met for a moment, Christine's heart hammering against her ribcage once more. She took his hand in her own, looking down at how well their fingers linked together. He did the same, before running his thumb over her pulse point in her wrist, her skin soft beneath his calloused finger. While Erik was distracted, Christine quickly moved, pressed a quick, chaste kiss to his lips. Erik's head snapped up, his eyes meeting hers once more. Christine felt a blush paint her cheeks and she bit her lip.
"Christine, do not do this to me. Please, I have had enough heartbreak. I cannot take anymore," he said, his voice cracking with his emotions. Christine's eyes flicked down to his lips, watching them for a moment, pondering what to do. But before she knew it, she was leaning back into him, their breaths mingling, before their lips touched tenderly. Erik seemed to freeze beneath her touch, almost unsure what to do. Christine opened her eyes as she kissed him, watching his face for a moment. His eyes were closed, tight, and his facial muscles seemed to be tense but as the kiss went on he seemed to relax, his lips finally moving against hers. Closing her eyes once more, Christine cupped his face, drawing him as close as possible. She felt her arms encircle her, his hands on her back, pulling her to him. Their lips parted once more and only their harsh breaths were heard in the silence of the lair.
'and I touched you; and I felt you;
and I heard those ravishing refrains;
The music of your pulse; the singing in your veins
Christine noted that Erik's unmasked cheek was wet with tears; her heart, almost, breaking watching him cry. She wanted to see him; all of him. She raised her hands between their bodies to his mask. He lashed out quickly, grabbing her wrist to stop her. Christine gasped but she was adamant to see his face. "Please." Erik's resolve crumbled completely and he dropped his hand from her wrist at her plea. Her fingers curled under his one important item of clothing and she lifted it from his cheek. He did not look at her as his deformity was shown. There was more silence between them before Christine kissed him once more. Erik melted straight into the embrace this time, even more so when her soft hand came to rest on his deformed cheek. His mouth moved with hers, hers opening slightly beneath his lips. Then her lips left his completely and were suddenly kissing his chin, where his deformity started, right over his scarred cheek and up to his forehead, covering every bit she could with her kisses. Erik sighed gently. Was this what Heaven felt like, he asked himself as fresh tears threatened to spill from his eyes.
"Oh Christine," he whispered. No one had ever dared kiss him this way before. Christine pulled back and stood up, pulling him to his feet too. Erik watched her for a moment, his mask forgotten on the stone floor. "Christine?"
"Take me to bed, Erik," Christine said, making Erik's breath hitch in his throat at her request. Surely such an angel would not request such an act from the devil? He shook his head quickly.
"Christine, I cannot ..." he began, but she stopped him.
"You can. I want to be yours, just like I wanted to be when I chose you," she told him. "I am asking you. I will beg you if I have to. I am giving my consent." Erik watched her for a moment. She was serious, wasn't she? "I want to be yours." Before she had any warning, Erik's lips claimed her own in a passionate embrace, pulling her to his solid body. Christine gasped into his mouth, her small hands gripping fistfuls of his waistcoat at the pure passion that flowed through his lips to her own. Their hands began to wander each other's bodies, not able to take in enough of each other.
"Christine, I know not what to do ..." Erik said, in embarrassment when he pulled back from the kiss. He seemed ashamed that he knew not how to satisfy her and Christine knew that he had never lain with a woman before. She had never lain with a man either, so she was equally new to the experience. She smiled at him gently and took his hand, leading him to his bedroom. They both looked down at his bed then at each other, a mutual understanding of what they both wanted. Christine turned to him, her eyes moving to the buttons on his waistcoat, her fingers following her gaze. She heard Erik swallow loudly, obviously nervous at what was about to come to pass. His waistcoat was undone and pushed off his shoulder, followed quickly by his white shirt before she raked her gaze over his frame. He was very thin, but there was muscle in the right places. She was caught off guard by the kiss he bestowed upon her, pulling her into his body. Her small hands raked down his chest, leaving small red lines after her fingernails as they went. Erik reached up to unpin Christine's hair, letting a cascade of chocolate curls fall down over her shoulders. His hands slid around her back, a gasp escaping her throat as he began to unbutton her dress. His fingers were trembling.
"It's okay, Erik," Christine whispered. "I trust you." That was all Erik needed to hear. Walking her backwards, her legs caught on the side of the bed, making her fall down onto the sheets. Her curls spread around her head like a dark halo and Erik knew he could stare at her for hours. The buttons undone, Erik knelt in front of her and pulled her dress down her body, letting it puddle on the floor, leaving her in her corset and underclothes. Christine sat up, grabbing Erik by the waistband of his trousers and pulling him closer to her, to stand between her legs. She beckoned him to join her on the sheets. Climbing on top of her, Erik lavished Christine's throat with kisses, nipping at the skin with his teeth, leaving a mark. What if Raoul saw, she thought for a moment, but then she found she did not care. She hoped she did not have to go back to him. She moaned out loud when Erik sucked the skin of her earlobe. Their hands moved quickly over each other's bodies, undressing each other with urgency. Christine's hands came to rest at Erik's trousers before looking up into his eyes for permission. He nodded and watched her as she undone the button on his trousers. He moaned gently when her hand grazed him through the fabric, his half hard erection twitching in its confines. Christine bit her lip before sliding her hand inside his trousers, cupping him in her hand. Just her touch had him trembling, his arms, which kept his weight off of Christine, almost giving way beneath him. Their hands continued to undress each other until they were completely nude before each other, taking in the sight of each other.
"You are beautiful, Christine," Erik whispered. He pressed another kiss to her throat before kissing down her body, his sinful lips and tongue leaving wet streaks on her porcelain skin, Christine felt like her whole body was on fire as he got perilously close to her heat, his mouth kissing and biting at her hipbone. God, never had she ever had Raoul kiss her like this, touch her the way Erik was touching her now. Nor did she want him to.
'and I held you; and I touched you,
and embraced you; and I felt you;
and with every breath and every sigh;
I felt no longer scared; I felt no longer shy.
at last our feelings bared beneath a moonless sky.'
"My angel; my Erik. How I have missed you so," Christine whispered. Erik let his hand travel up the soft, alabaster skin of Christine's thigh, his fingers mere inches from their destination. "God, Erik ... touch me." He heard the plea in her voice. He watched her breasts heave as she forgot to breathe when his fingers suddenly went exploring. She gasped out loud as he touched her, the feeling of her warm and wet beneath her sending him wild. She bucked up against his exploring hand, which ignited feelings in her she never knew she could feel. Erik slid up her body to press a kiss to her lips as two fingers slid inside of her, making her almost cry out.
"Christine, you are perfect," Erik whispered into her mouth. That made her blush. Such a compliment from an imperfect being. A few more strokes of his fingers had her panting, but she was nowhere near finished.
"Make love to me, Erik," Christine pleaded. She gasped once more when Erik lined himself up with her entrance. Christine pushed against him, hinting at him, but he pulled back slightly, a look of fear in his ocean blue eyes.
"I do not want to hurt you, my dear," he said. Christine lifted her hand to his deformed cheek and caressed it gently.
"Nothing you could ever do could hurt me, Erik," she said. A rare smile appeared on his face before he buried his face in Christine's neck, pressing kisses there while he pushed into her as gently as he could. But nothing prepared her for the pain that ripped through her as he broke through her maidenhead. He kept pushing until he gasped out loud, until they were joined together as one. Christine tried not to let the tears fall from her eyes at the pain but her emotions betrayed her and Erik noticed.
"I have hurt you. Forgive me," he said, pulling back a bit before Christine stopped him. Her hands cupped his cheeks, bringing his lips to hers once more.
"Please, don't stop," she moaned softly against his lips as he kissed her. He waited a few moments before he began to move within her body. Their breath mingled as he moved, swallowing each other's moans and cries. His gentle whispers of her name were the only words spoken between them as their joining became heated, bodies' slick with sweat and getting closer and closer to climax with each movement within her body. Christine scratched at Erik's skin, leaving angry red lines down his back with her fingernails. A few more movements from Erik and Christine felt her whole body shudder uncontrollably as her climax took over. She called out his name, her voice echoing around his home. He followed soon after, both the phantom and his angel collapsing on the sheets together in a passionate embrace.
'and I caught you; and I kissed you;
and I took you; and I begged you;
with a need to urgent to deny;
and nothing mattered then except for you and I;
again and then again, beneath a moonless sky.'
-x-
A few hours had to have passed and Christine still lay sleeping in Erik's arms. He lay there, contented, his eyes on her all the time. He could not take his eyes from her beautiful face as she slept so peacefully, probably the first time since she had left him to go with the boy on that fateful night. Her curls framed her cheeks, which Erik reached out to stroke gently. He wondered to himself how such an angel could have made love and slept next to a monster. He sight deeply to himself as he rolled over onto his back.
"Christine," he whispered, before turning back to her to press a kiss to her forehead. She seemed to sigh gently in her sleep and move closer, one arm sliding over his bare chest. He could not help himself, so he smiled brightly. He slowly untangled himself from her, swinging his legs out of bed and getting up, pulling on his discarded trousers as he went. He moved to a wash basin in the corner, gathering water in his hands to splash on his face. Grabbing a towel, he vacated the bedroom and walked out into the main lair. Suddenly, from the corner of his eyes, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in one of the broken mirrors, each separate shard of glass between the cracks showing him his flawed face, a reflection that had always disgusted him. How could Christine see past it and see a man? No one in his past had saw a man so what made Christine Daae any different? Covering his face and turning from the mirror, he turned back to his bedroom. His gaze immediately fell on the nude woman lying in his bed, her breast rising and falling gently with each breath. She was flawless; so beautiful lying there and it pained Erik to know he could never give her the life that the Vicomte could. Making a hasty decision, he moved around the room, gathering essentials and throwing them into a satchel, checking every so often to make sure he hadn't woken her. He put on a suit and his cloak, gathering very little. He knew there was a boat to America in a few hours and Madam Giry and Meg were going to be on it. He would join them and leave Paris for good. Closing his eyes, he felt a pain in his chest; guilt, no doubt. But it was for the best. Watching her for a moment, he bent down and pressed a chaste kiss to her already kiss-swollen lips. A single tear fell down his marred cheek at the thought of leaving her.
"Goodbye, Christine. I feel sure that we will meet again someday," he whispered, playing with a few strands of her hair before he stood and fled from his underground home, gathering the half white mask from the stone floor on the way out. He left the only woman he had ever loved behind, hoping one day that they would see each other once more; that he would hear her sing once more.
-x-
Christine's eyes slowly adjusted to the candlelight in the lair as she awoke from her sleep, smiling brightly when she remembered where she was. She turned over to see Erik but she found an empty bed. Touching the spot next to her, she found it still to be warm. Her smile faltering only slightly, she gathered the sheet around her naked body and slid out of bed, almost dancing with happiness out of the bedroom to the lair.
"Erik, are you here?" she called into the main lair, a frown replacing her smile when she looked over at the organ and saw no one there. "Erik, my love?" There was no answer. She moved closer to the organ, noting nothing had been moved, only a small piece of paper added to the collection on top of the organ, but with Erik's immaculate script written on it. Picking it up, her heart almost broke in two when she read it.
I am sorry. Forgive me?
Erik.
Christine felt her chest constrict as she struggled to breath, the tears now freely falling down her cheeks. He had left her. He was gone. How could he? Her legs failed to keep her upright and she collapsed on the floor of the lair, sobs escaping her throat, screams that she could not fail to keep down inside. Where was he? Why would he do this to her? She had planned to tell him that she loved him when she woke. Christine lay there until she had cried all that she could before she realised. Raoul. If Erik was gone, she would have to go back to Raoul. She picked herself up from the floor, running back to the bedroom to dress quickly. Pulling on her dress, leaving her ripped underclothes on the ground, she quickly readied herself for going back to de Chagny manor. She had to go home. Raoul would come looking for her if he knew she was gone and Erik's home would be one of the first places he would look. She made for the exit quickly, running back along the corridor to her dressing room before leaving the Opera House altogether. Mounting her horse quickly, she looked once more back at the building that held so many memories before she rode off him. Oh, why did she have to fall in love with Erik?
-x-
"I will never forget that night, Christine. I left you because I knew I was not good enough for you," Erik explained, sitting down on the piano stool, gripping the edge of the instrument like it was a lifeline. "You do not know how hard it was for me to make that decision. I did not want to leave you, God only knows, I did not want to."
"I loved you, Erik. I woke to tell you that I loved you, but you were already gone," Christine told him, making his heart sink in his chest. "Do you regret what we did? What I asked of you?" Erik looked dumfounded, wondering why on Earth she would ask such a question.
"Never," he said, gently. "And I never will."
"Neither will I," she said. Reaching over to him, she took his hand in hers and squeezed it gently. Erik could only smile briefly.
"And now?" he asked her. Christine dropped his hand and stood from her chair.
"How can you talk of now? I am married, Erik," she said, holding up her ring finger to him, showing him the diamond ring. "I am the Vicomtess de Chagny. I married Raoul the day after our night together, like I told you I was going to. If you had stayed things would have been different. I would most likely be your wife." Erik looked down at his feet, his guilt building up inside him.
"There is no now, Erik."
I really hope anyone who reads this enjoys this. I don't know why I decided to rewrite but I was not happy with the previous version of this story. I thought it was very sparse, not enough detail so I thought I would give it a makeover. I hope if any one who reads this who has read the previous one, will let me know which one you prefer. Thanks guys.