To Let You Go
A continuation of Phantom by Susan Kay
(Which does not belong to me)
By Calypso
AN - I was really unsure weather or not to write this, and while I'll probably be flamed for it I decided to give it a shot anyway. This is probably overrated but I wanted to be sure. And don't forget to review me if you like it - this may or may not be the beginning of a longer fic.
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What ravages of Spirit, Conjured this temptoues rage?
Created you a monster, Broken by the rumor of love.
And fate has led you through it; you do what you have to do.
Christine
How beautiful it is here, here where there is nothing more then the warmth of love and the purity of tranquility. I now see the fragile light that he'd hidden in the velvet darkness of this eternal night. In his arms I understand why the rose paid loves price so willingly. The quiet is calming, soothing my weeping spirit with the evenness of his breathing, enfolding me like a child to its mother's breast. In its arms I realize that my heart will never willingly leave this room behind. Just as I am certain that I will always feel the scars of his soul; exposed to me in a spectrum of dark ecstasy.
These hours are to me too fleeting, and with every passing minute I know that the dawn draws nearer. But dawn does not bear thinking of, for when it comes I will no longer feel the beating of his heart against mine. Or the coldness of his hands resting peacefully on my skin. You would never think that hands so cold could inspire such fire as his have. That such a fire as ours could be a herald of pain. Cold and icy but long and slender, his hands are like the hands of angels, and I cannot help but wonder what caused such beauty to turn to such bane.
Did men like Raoul do this to him? Or women like me? Women who could not - or would not - see beyond the mask he wears. Not the mask he wears over his face - for that was easily removed- but that which he wears over his soul. Were they like me - to frightened to remove it? Or simply to blind to know that it was there?
Long had I feared unraveling the mantle of loathing he dons so well, the disguise of bloodlust that he would not himself remove. Yet as I slipped it from his shoulders I felt it graze against my own, and I know that I can never be free of its memory. I feel his blood pulsing against my bare skin, and I know that it is my own life flowing through his veins, just as it is his flowing through mine. I feel his eyes flutter open as I caress his face and I can see his love shimmering through the darkness, coiling around me as if he had cast a spell.
Gently he shifts his weight so that he rests comfortably beneath me rather then besides me and as I lower my lips onto his I can feel his slight intake breath, making it quite obvious that he is still unused to the idea of being loved. With restraint I feel him return my kiss and I at last discern that he will ever be the gentleman. Ever so slowly, as if awaiting my permission, I feel his hand glide from my neck towards my breast, still cold against my burning skin. His kisses begin to move on their own accord and I find that I am gasping for breath not from lack of air but rapture. I close my eyes and all thoughts melt away into nothingness, for us there will be no tomorrow, so now I will take what I can.
And I have the sense to recognize that I don't know how to let you go.
Every moment filled with apparitions of your soul
The yearning to be near you, I do what I have to do.
The hours passed by us swiftly and when he broke the silence I knew that our end had come. "Go now." The words are whispered and the unevenness of his breathing tore at my heart and ragged my spirit. Nodding against his shoulder I despondently disentangled myself from him slipping unwillingly out of my bed, fumbling for matches so that I might light a candle before gathering my petticoats and the like from where they lay on the floor.
In the half shadows cast by that single candle I watched him as I dressed, my eyes committing to memory every detail of his face my hands having already memorized the feel of his skin and the contours of his body. His eyes follow the tears flowing freely down my face, forcing at me the reality that after this night I will have to learn to fly without my angels wings and sing without his songs. Every fiber of my body rebels against the thought unwilling to admit its reality.
But I know that it is true and drop my head in defeat, burying tears of despair into my hair, wishing for once that I were not so apparent in my emotions. With irony I remember that I can't button the thirty-two tiny buttons on the back of my dress - how pitiful the little facts of reality seemed against my broken spirit. "Christine," his voice startled me, as I had not expected him to speak again. "Do you need help?" I nodded dumbly and perched myself on the edge of the bed, hearing him grimace in pain as he sat up himself. I almost cry out at his pain and when his hand begin to move I am surprised that his fingers are still agile enough to do such miniscule work in such light. As he finishes the last button I feel his hands linger on my hair before drawing me back against him his tears falling into my hair. "I love you."
A sudden calm descends upon me, and I have the strength to stop sobbing and rise. "And I will always love you." With tenderness I take from him one last kiss then gather his clothing from the floor and deposit them besides him on the bed. I turn to the door and open it, leaving my heart where it lay broken within his hands.
As I step out into a brighter light I find that Raoul is waiting for me, Raoul who I had not thought of since my departure. The truth was that he simply had not mattered in this night. Raoul who loved me blindly and could not see that I did not love him in return. He wants so badly to be my heart - but how could he when Erik was already my soul?
He takes my hand and my body follows in an oblivious trance, wondering why he could not descry that my mind and spirit were closed to him forever. Locked with Erik behind a door that will never open again.
Glowing ember, burning high and burning slow.
Deeper then if shaken by the violence of existence
For only you
And I know I can't be with you, I do what I have to do.
And I have the sense to recognize,
But I don't know how to let you go.
I don't know how to let you go.
Do what you have to do - Sarah McLaughin.