"The Scorpion or the Grasshopper, Christine! I am not a patient man. Make your choice!" Erik yelled.
Christine, half driven to insanity, ran to the the two boxes upon Erik's little table, in his house under the opera. She quickly turned the Scorpion, hands shaking and eyes wide. "Erik, I have turned the Scorpion. I will be your living wife!" She would keep her promise, and by this she believed Raoul and his companion would be saved. She could never be with Raoul now, but at least he would live. Goodbye, my love, Christine thought sadly.
Erik stood and stared at Christine, his eyes glassy and expressionless as water began to flood the gunpowder stored under the strange house.
Suddenly, Christine could hear shouts from the awful room. She realized with horror that Erik was flooding the torture chamber.
"Erik," Christine whispered. Louder, she said, "Erik, that must be enough water for the gunpowder! Turn off the water Erik, turn off the Scorpion! I swear, I will be your wife, just turn it off!"
The cries of Raoul and and the Persian grew in panic and volume, and suddenly stopped. The sound of rushing water continued. Christine panicked. She rushed over to Erik and attempted to grab the front of his shirt, but only ended up clawing at his back, for he had turned away from her. As she clutched him, she heard him say to himself, "Barrels, barrels, are there any barrels to sell?"
"Erik please! Don't kill them, I won't leave you! If you let them go, I won't leave you. I will be your living wife and I will love you!" she cried. Christine felt the muscles in Erik back stiffen sharply. He pulled away from her and turned to look at her. His once loud and angry voice was now only an incredulous and hopeful whisper.
"You would try? You would try to love me, Christine?"
"I swear it Erik. Please, save them!" she said, shaking.
Erik's odd and frightening mood seemed to break. He quickly and determinedly walked to yet another room hidden to Christine. She could hear him pulling a lever, and then she heard another door open. A few moments later Erik came back, dragging Raoul behind him, and then the other man Christine knew as the Persian. Both were unconscious.
She looked at Erik. "May I help them? I promise, I won't escape."
Erik looked at her blankly. "Yes. But you mustn't say anything."
"Why..." Christine began.
"I said don't!" Erik yelled hysterically. He was staring at the floor, eyes wide. Christine noticed his hands were shaking. After a pause, he said, very quietly, glancing up, "Now, my dear, will you be so kind as to fetch me a damp cloth and some tea? For our guests..."
Christine nodded weakly and went to the kitchen.
After she had retrieved the items Erik requested of her, she helped him treat her (now former) fiance and the other man. Both the Persian and Raoul had briefly regained consciousness at different times. At one moment, the Persian tried to speak with Christine. She did her best to ignore him, but after Erik had given the poor man a quiet threat, he spoke no more. Now both men slept soundly.
Erik turned towards Christine. "I am going to bring them both up to the surface. I will leave an explanation and instructions with the Daroga. I will do this to please my wife" Erik said, half to himself. "Wait here."
Christine wondered with irony where else she would go.
"Wait!" she said suddenly, just as Erik was about to pick up the Persian, or the Daroga, as he called him. She closed her eyes briefly. "Where are you taking Raoul? I just need to know that he will be safe. I won't...I won't go near him. I will stay with you," she said. "I have promised."
Anger flashed briefly in Erik's eyes, but then he seemed to relax, and sighed. "I will take him to the Daroga's flat. He will be safe. I won't harm him." Christine looked at him. Even with his face covered with a mask, he noticed that he looked so tired, ancient. Not in his appearance, but in his bearing. She wondered briefly what his life had been like. "I will wait here, Erik."
Erik returned about an hour later. He found Christine sitting in a chair by the fire, staring blankly at a book in her hands. She looked up very slowly as he entered the room. No emotion showed upon her face.
Christine and Erik stared at one another. Erik, once powerful, angry, intimidating, now seemed frightened, yet hopeful. He is just like a child, Christine thought.
"You...you are Erik's now, and Erik is yours," Erik said unsteadily. He did not move from his spot in the middle of the room. Christine stood. What do I do? she thought. I am Erik's now. His...fiance. A wife. What do wives do...?
Suddenly, she stepped closer to Erik. A kiss. A kiss is what a wife gives to her husband. I must...I must... her mind raced.
She put her forehead forward, just a little bit, and waited. Erik quickly realized what Christine was permitting him. I am a monster, he thought. I cannot...I have already taken too much. He began to tremble, and backed away. "No," he whispered.
"It's alright," Christine murmured quietly. "It's alright, Erik." She stepped towards him again, head bowed ever so slightly. Oh, God, I am afraid... she thought. But I will no longer be cruel.
Erik reached his shaking hands out, very slowly. His fingers grazed Christine's face. The girl resisted the urge to shiver from the feel of his frozen hands. One of Erik's hands stayed upon her face as the other lifted his mask just above his lips. "Forgive me," he breathed.
And he kissed her.
He kissed the bruise on her forehead, the result of her foolish suicide attempt only hours earlier. Christine noted that his lips felt like an icy breeze against her skin. She felt Erik's lips slip from her face, and he collapsed at her feet.
"Erik?" she asked, concerned. He was crying yet again. Christine marveled at his unlimited store of rage, love, and tears.
Sobbing, he kissed her feet. Her poor, insane teacher's actions humbled Christine, and broke her. She began to cry as well.
Erik raised himself up on his knees, and attempted to stand up and regain control of himself, even though he was shaking with emotion.
Suddenly, the Opera Ghost stopped. One of his angel's tears had fallen into his mask, onto his face. Another, and another! They flowed into his mouth, and mixed with his own tears. In a desperate attempt to feel more of her tears grace his face, he removed his mask hurriedly, dropping it on the floor.
She did not stop crying. She did not move. And she did not die. Instead, to Erik's great shock and delight, she encased his skeletal, frozen hand in her own small, warm ones.
"Poor, unhappy Erik!" she cried, and squeezed his hand. Erik's sobs had become loud, and shook his emaciated frame.
Quickly, yet unsteadily, his other hand found it's way to his pocket, where he pulled out the plain gold ring that Christine had lost. He thrust it into her hand. "Here! Take it!" he gasped. "Take it for you and your boy. I know, I know you love him Christine. It is my wedding present, to you and him. Please, do not cry anymore."
Christine looked at Erik, and asked very quietly, "Erik, what do you mean? I don't underst..."
"I am releasing you. I know I forced you into this. I understand that now. You don't love me. You love him. But you...you have cared for me anyway. I want you to be happy now. I will take you to him!" he cried, struggling to stand.
Christine sat down in front of Erik before he could escape. A question burned on her tongue. "Erik," she said quietly. "What will happen to you if I leave?"
He looked at her steadily, his seemingly empty sockets somehow conveying despair. He said, "I will die. But I will die happy now, for you have cried with me, for me! And you have allowed me to kiss you. That is all the happiness I could ever wish to receive. I would only ask you to come back and bury me after I have died here."
Christine contemplated his answer quietly. She knew her teacher was not young. She remembered his collapse after she had first unmasked him. He did not sleep enough, he did not eat enough. An emotional blow such as her leaving would weaken him. And she knew he would give up. She, poor, insignificant girl, had somehow become his one hope in life, and his one joy. She did not believe he was exaggerating when he said that her leaving would kill him.
But despite everything she and Erik had done to each other, and especially considering the events of that night, she still found that she cared for her deranged yet genius music teacher. He had been her one friend in a lonely world. He had renewed her love for music, and her voice. But she knew if she stayed with him, she would have to care for Erik more than any normal wife. And she would have to learn to forgive him for all the harm he had done. She would also have to learn to deal with his temper, his sadness, insanity...and in return, she would have his love. Would that be enough?
God, give me strength... she silently prayed.
She had decided. She knew she had decided over an hour ago. "Erik, you speak the truth when you say I don't love you. Right now, I do love Raoul. But...I do not want you to die. Despite everything that has happened, you have done so much for me. I will not have your death upon my hands. I will stay," she said determinedly. "Please, let me stay. We will...we will find a way to be happy. And in time...I am sure I will come to love you. I know I care for you."
Erik turned his deformed face towards Christine. "How can you mean that? Do you speak truth? I am no fool, Christine. I know myself. I am a monster, a horror. I know have brought nothing but death to you."
"You will no longer. I am staying. And we shall find a way to live together, happily." she replied bravely. "Erik, I promised. It will...be hard. But I promised to be your living wife. I will stay, and I will live. We shall live."
Erik was crying again. "Too good, you are too good to Erik. I...I...I am sorry! Erik is a horrible man. I am sorry! I love you! " he wailed.
"Erik," Christine said. With shaking hands, she touched Erik's chin, and gently raised his head. She then, without warning, kissed Erik upon his hideous head. It was his first kiss.
Erik gasped, shocked at her actions. No one had every willingly touched him. His whole life, human contact had always been associated with violence, either on his part, or another's. Erik had known that touch could be gentle, but he had never experienced it for himself. He stood still as marble for several seconds, and then, timidly, he leaned into her kiss. "Such gentleness..." he whispered, closing his eyes while quiet tears fell down his deformed features.
Christine gently clasped his other hand, slowly breaking the kiss. "We will learn, Erik. We will learn," she said softly.
"Yes," Erik replied. "Yes, we will." He had regained some control, and tenderly placed his free hand upon Christine's. "Christine, I love you," he said quietly, steadily. "Thank you..."
