A few quick notes:
The story was originally posted under my now de-activated DA account. So if it looks familiar to anyone, that's where it was originally posted.
Also, kind of a short piece. Wrote it while watching the 25th anniversary with Sierra Boggess as Christine Daaé and Ramin Karimloo as "Erik" / the Phantom back who knows when, but it is one of my personal favorites and is based off of the following fanfictions:
s/9324660/1/Blessings and s/9704519/1/That-Voice-Which-Calls-to-Me
Phantom of the Opera - A Breath of Life
Her angel watched from the shadows of the graveyard as she made her way toward her family's mausoleum. They had agreed to meet there for arrangements before the 'Don Juan Triumphant' performance in a few short weeks.
He knew Christine's heart was filled with fear and sympathy, while his harbored guilt and resentment. She was afraid of him, but she pitied him. Six months prior, he was kind and gentle; she knew in her heart of hearts that her angel would never hurt her.
He hated her nativity though. She believed the lie to be the truth, and when it was revealed, Christine abandoned him to a childhood "friend" who now owned her heart. He hated her when she accepted the Vicomte's proposal without a second thought. He was filled with a rage so powerful that he cut the ropes holding the opera's precious chandelier.
Six months later, she called him out. He had to see her and was thankful she did, although he made it clear at the Masquerade party that her voice and soul still belonged to him.
Now as he watched her move through to graveyard silent as a whisper, he couldn't help but notice what she wore to disguise herself that cold winter morning. A midnight gown hid her feminine curves and dancer's legs while the wool grey cloak kept the chill out. A red knitted scarf, presumably her mother's, was wrapped around her neck as she fondled the edge of it. A memory of her mother, perhaps?
Only he knew about it.
Christine looked over her shoulder when she felt her angel's presence in the fog and snow, which fell gently from the heavens, entwining with her dark curls. Her blue eyes sought him, but never saw. She turned back to the grave.
Her father's presence was exceptionally strong here, even though years had passed since his departure from her life. It felt as if God himself had made a special connection with father and daughter so they could be with each other, even though he was far away. Her knees buckled slightly as she remembered his smile, his laughter, the music and their voices sounding throughout the little cottage they once owned in Sweden.
Silent tears dripped onto her dress as a gloved hand caught her chin. Christine raised her eyes as they were captured by mismatched orbs, questioning in silence about her struggles.
"Ange," she smiled slightly, wiping away tears, "you came back."
"I will always come back if you need me, Christine," the phantom spoke, gripping her hands as he pulled her up to stand beside him, "Why did you call me out?"
"I... wanted to... to apologize for my behavior."
"Humph," he grunted, malformed lips in a straight line.
But that didn't stop her, "and I had to see you."
He raised a questioning eyebrow. Where had the meek child gone and who was the head-strong woman before him?
"Why?" he asked, "Come, Christine, this must surely be a joke. Is your beloved fiancé wishing to kill me now, even though he has yet to wait for only two weeks for me to come and claim his little bride?"
Christine's jaw slightly slacked, but he continued, "Don't look so surprised, my dear! I know and see everything that happens in my opera house! And your beloved has been prancing around, telling everyone he sees about his great plan to kill a monster, a living corpse who resides in the very place he was condemned to!"
"Ange, please..."
"Please what, Christine!? What!?"
"Love me."
His eyes went wide as she laid a hesitant palm on his good cheek. Terror shook him to the core; afraid she would soon realize what she said a loud and snatch all that he wanted away, running in fright from the very thing that loved her so much. Christine didn't run. Her eyes shifted between his eyes and his slacked jaw as soft gasps caressed her face. She lowered her lids as she gently kissed him. Soft and timid, afraid she did not know how pleased him.
She pulled away and wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him to her. He did the same, incasing her within his cloak, warming her body. Christine rested her cheek against the coarse over-jacket he wore under the cloak and mumbled something.
"Hmm?" he asked, unable to understand her.
"What is your name, ange?"
He thought on it. He had one, but no one had used it since his years in Persia as the shah's court magician. He looked down, whispering into her hair, "Erik."
"Erik?"
"Yes, mon amour. I have no origin, but it's what my poor unhappy mother named me."
"I don't care, Erik. It's a lovely name. It means 'ruler of all'," she smiled, giggling into his chest.
Erik was shocked. She confessed a love and now she said his name was beautiful. He clutched her closer, pressing his masked cheek into dark curls.
They stood there for several minutes, before they heard a distant sound of hoof prints charging toward them. "Raoul!" Christine whimpered.
Erik clutched her closer. He would never let her go, even if her supposed fiancé charged in like a white knight to save the princess from the monster's clutches. Christine's hand gripped his, forcing him to look at her.
"Take me away, Erik. Please take me with you."
Without a second thought, he scooped her up into his arms bridal style, carrying her away from the graveyard.
As the pair vanished into the woods, the Vicomte came charging in. "Christine!" he called out, hoping to see her running toward him.
As he looked, the dim sunlight caught something shiny, signaling the desperate man forward. Lying in the snow, with a chain holding onto it, was an engagement ring.
Returning to the opera house took only a few moments. After their escape from the graveyard, Erik led Christine to where a white stallion awaited, tied to an old oak just a little ways away. The old horse nodded its head when they came toward it.
"Caésar!" Christine cried, rushing toward the horse. She captured its face in her fingers, allowing it to push against her hands when Erik stepped up behind her, murmuring, "It would be best if we left before your former fiancé tries to find us."
He helped her saddle onto Caesar before climbing up behind her, closing around her with strong arms.
"How where you able to get him without the stable boys seeing you?"
"I think you would find how terrible those men are to him," Erik hissed before urging the horse forward into a fierce run, "They don't have time to care for a retired stage horse, but the opera ghost does."
Christine giggled into his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist as he held her.
Several moments later, Erik returned Caésar to the stables and led Christine down another dark pathway homeward.
"Are you afraid of me still, Christine?" he asked, helping her into the boat at the edge of the underground lake.
"No, Erik," she smiled, "I fear your temper, but not your soul."
He smiled crookedly as he pushed the boat onward. The lamp flickered it's reflection into the lake and the light reflected dimly off of the stone walls. As she looked into the water, Christine only saw the reflection of the stark white mask that covered part of his face, hiding the true reason why he had buried himself into the earth, so close to the pits of hell.
When they arrived in the lair, Erik gripped Christine to him. His body reacted in the only it could, pressing into her softness. Christine let out a quiet moan, allowing him to continue his mimed thrusts. "Christine," he called to her, "are you sure you're not afraid?"
"Yes, Erik. Why do you keep asking me if...?"
"Because I'm afraid. My love frightened you away once before, I won't allow it to happen again."
"Erik... please. Love me, Erik. Share with me one love..."
"One life time... Lead me save me from my solitude..."
"Share with me each night..."
"Each morning..."
Erik pressed his misshapen lips to hers; kissing her with a feverous attempt at the love he wanted for so long and was denied at every turn. Christine smiled as she took his mask away, revealing the true him as the wig fell away also. He stiffened slightly before relaxing into her touch. Christine pushed his cloak and jacket off his shoulders before he did the same to her.
She whimpered when he removed the scarf he gave her years ago. Erik silenced her with another kiss and lifted her into his arms, taking her into his main bedchamber, "Are you sure this is what you want?"
Christine looked up into his face, gazing into those mismatched orbs. She smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulled his lips in for another kiss, "Of course, ange. I will never leave you alone again."
He smiled and pulled her inside, leaving the mask and wig alone in their despair.
A fire crackled as two bodies disentangled from each other when they separated for a short time before Christine reached out and gripped her angel's hand. "Erik," she sighed heavily, the sweet dreams of sleep cruelly within her grasp.
"Yes, Christine?"
"I'm sorry for everything. It was my entire fault for your broken heart, I should have realized-"
He cut her off with a kiss. He pulled her close to him, tucking her head under his chin as his unmasked face rested in her curls. "Nothing happened the way I wanted to either petite. Don't blame yourself..."
"But, Erik..."
"Hush. Sleep Christine, I will be here when you awaken."
Christine wanted to argue, but her body said otherwise. Her eyes closed as sleep took her, with Erik watching over her, just as he did for those past sixteen years. He guarded her, protected her, and sang to her; now, she would know nothing but love and joy from her true angel of music...