Summary: There are many moments in which the story could have turned out quite differently. This is one…
Disclaimer: I disclaim.
A/N: This is a revision of a story I published nearly two years ago on FF. To the readers who reviewed it before, thank you for your advice and support. The ending of this piece is quite different from the original but I think it is both more realistic and truer to the story.
While I usually use Kay as canon this particular scene is based on Leroux.
Moments of Transition: RevelationI sank into the music as though it were a warm pool of soothing water and let myself drift and float among the staves, improvising subtly and building new melodies....
I was unaware of the passage of time, unaware of anything but the music and the exultant joy of her presence here, in this house. I had dreamed of this for so long. I was floating in a tide of pure music, thrilled and triumphant. I did not hear her come up behind me, though she must have stood there watching me for some time. I did not see her small hand reach out and rip away the mask. I spun around and the expression of horror and disbelief on her face undid me.
I stood up with a roar; the piano bench tossed aside like flotsam on the tide on my rage as I advanced on her.
"Do you want to see Erik's face?" I shrieked. "DO YOU?!" I thrust my horrible face closer to her and I heard her whimper softly as she fell back against the wall.
"You wanted to see, my dear? Then see!" I fastened my hands around her throat, squeezing the white column of her neck as I screamed into her face. "Look at me! Look! Do you see? DO YOU?!" I tightened my grip. "Now you are mine, Christine. Now you will never be free!"
The room was spinning out of control around me and all I could see was red rage. I was beyond the edge, lost in the horror of my own life. Faces crowded my vision, pressed against the bars of my cage, laughing and shrieking at me. I knew I had ceased speaking completely was now yelling incoherent curses at her. My own voice seemed far away. I was lost in the red rage.
How could you?
How could you even dare to dream that this girl would touch you!
You fool, you fool!
I came to myself slowly.
"Angel." Christine said. She must have been speaking for some time but I had not heard her.
"Erik." she said again, the unfamiliar name sounding strange on her lips. "Erik."
Her white fingers were circling my wrist, gently urging me to loose my grip. I did so slowly, as though coming out of a dream.
"Erik." She said again and I looked up into her face, noticed the tears streaking down her cheeks. She reached out with her other hand and brushed her fingertips across my ravaged cheek. The shock of that touch! I felt it through my entire body. I had never been touched in that manner, not ever. Even my poor dear mother had never had the courage to touch my horrible face. And now this girl, this miraculous child held her questing hand to my cheek.
"Oh my Angel." She said mournfully. I wrenched myself from her and turned to the only solace left me. I crossed the room in two great strides and flipped open the score of my Don Juan. My hands found the keys and I made the organ weep for me.
I could feel her behind me but I dared not turn around. Her little hand lighted on my shoulder and my hands trembled so at her touch that I ceased playing.
"Show me your face without fear." She said. And hope slipped into my heart like a thief in the night. It was a mistake to trust her. But I so wanted to believe.
I turned to her and I thought I could see a stab of terror in her eyes before she smiled at me and took my hand.
Thus began our lie.