Disclaimer:  I own none of the characters mentioned below.  All right belong to Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber.  And if not them...someone else besides.

Departing

He was sitting there. Just sitting. Alone in his lair, maskless, looking at that damned monkey. And singing with it. Singing and crying. For the first time, I didn't see a monster. I didn't see an angel, or a ghost, or even a man.

I saw a little boy. Lost, lonely, and very scared.

And my heart died.

I took a step toward him, and the rustling of the voluminous fabric of my wedding gown, the gown he had fashioned just for me, gave away my intrusion. He spun around, quickly, cat-like and formidable once again. Until he realized it was only me. His angry, frightened scowl, one that would send a muscle man crying to his mother, shriveled and died, and the fire in his eyes was replaced by nothing. Nothing but the pain of years of solitude, hatred, and desertion by everyone he had ever cared for. I was the icing on top of a horrible cake.

I swallowed the lump that had built in my throat, and realized I hadn't been breathing. I inhaled sharply, my breath jagged as I choked back a sob, and put on a brave face. I stepped toward him, and he stepped back. I paused, lowering my eyes. I put my hand out in front of me, the simple gold band he had given me held in my outstretched palm. If he had looked pained before, now he looked like he was dying. But he, in a similar mindset to myself, decided to scrape up as much of his dignity as possible, and closed the space between us. He raised his hand, staring at the ring, not looking at me, and he finally, tentatively, reached for it.

It was like fire, his touch. He grasped the ring, and the very second our flesh made contact, his eyes, those strange, glowing, amber-colored eyes, found mine, and I knew. I knew this was where I belonged. He knew it as well; I could tell by the way his eyes softened, the angry, sad, terrified, happy tears streaking his horribly maimed skin. I clasped my fingers around his, and we stood there for what seemed like an eternity. It was merely seconds.

"Christine," he whimpered. "I love you."

I pulled my hand away. A minute more, and I would never leave. I looked at him pleadingly, begging him not to do this. He was blind to my silent plea.

"I love you," he said, looking away, as if he believed with all of his heart that his affirmation would make everything better. As if telling me he loved me would make me stay, and live in his world of darkness and solitude forever.

As if I didn't know that he loved me.

As if I didn't love him back.

It was strange, our love. I didn't love him as I loved Raoul. My love for Raoul was innocent, sweet, traditional, and I had no fear from it. My love for Erik was passionate, dark, far from traditional. And it scared me. But not enough to stop me from loving him back.

I made a step backward, catching his attention once again. His eyes held his own plea, and I almost ran to him. I heard Raoul call my name; he was surely waiting in the boat, still soaking wet, his neck covered in rope burns. I looked away from Erik.

"I love you."

I couldn't take anymore. If I didn't leave now, I would never leave at all. He had told me to go, wanted me to go. He couldn't just change his mind.

I spun on my heel and ran. I left him with his "I love you's" and his damned monkey and his horrible, beautiful music. I ran until I was breathless, finally reaching Raoul in the boat, looking like a Greek god with his perfect posture and his fine features. He was exhausted, physically, mentally, emotionally, but he saw me and smiled. He smiled to comfort me, relax me, and reassure me that I had done the right thing. I had done the right thing, after all.

Then why did I feel so horrible?

Raoul pushed away from the rocky outcropping Erik used as a dock, pushing us along the underground lake. I heard an unearthly wail. Raoul said I nearly jumped into the lake, and had to hold me down until I broke into a sobbing mess. I was delirious. I don't remember that at all. All I can remember is Erik's cries, and that I wanted to die.

"I love you."