This is just a little random Phantom Phan Phic story that I decided to write. Actually, I wrote it during Algebra this afternoon...whatever. As long as I'm not failing, everything is right with the world! Enjoy!
Come To Me
"Give me my mask back, Christine!" the Phantom demanded; his hand shaking from not only rage, but sadness and disappointment. All he ever wanted was for Christine to love him, just like any other man. But instead, she tore his mask off as soon as she got the chance!
Christine sat on the cold, stone floor, trembling from the display of anger that her Angel had displayed. She hadn't meant to hurt him in such a way! She just wanted to see the man who she had...fallen in love with? Was it a sin to fall in love with an angel?
No, he wasn't an Angel; he was a man. A man who seemed to have never known kindness or love. But hadn't he raged at her? Didn't he damn her and knock her on the ground?
Clutching the mask tightly to her chest, Christine inched closer and closer to the shaking man, but he seemed to have different plans. He kept backing away from her. Had she been so cruel to him that he couldn't stand her anymore?
"Angel, I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you like this. Please, forgive me." she whispered. Before the Phantom could respond, Christine dissolved into a pile of white lace and tears.
He truly did not expect this reaction out of her; he expected her to run from him, to slap him, or something similar to that. Those were the kinds of reactions he was used to and didn't bother him anymore, but this was definitely new.
Hugging her knees to her chest, Christine held his mask even closer to her slim, petite body. She could smell something wonderful coming from the mask. Was it his cologne? Roses? Who cared though? He definitely didn't! "Forgive me." she breathed one last time before she fainted. Catching her with ease, the Phantom slowly rose from his seat on the floor and walked into her bedroom.
She looked so tiny, immersed in the red silk and plush pillows. He then noticed that she still clung to his mask; almost as if the mask was the one forgiving her and not him, not the monster. Reaching down to take the piece of porcelain from her, Christine's eyes opened wide, tears still shining brightly in those beautiful brown circles.
"Angel?" she whispered hopefully. Had he forgiven her? No, he couldn't have! She had only fainted a few moments ago. Definitely not enough time for a tortured and lonely man to forgive someone. Sitting up, Christine looked up into his eyes. They were gold, but one was darker and richer, like honey, than the other, which resembled the color of the actual metal. "You have gorgeous eyes." She saw the Angel stiffen at her remark and noticed that she had just said her thoughts out loud. Very unladylike.
Did she just compliment him? He had his mask on, didn't he? For no one had told him that he was handsome unless he had his mask on, hiding his ugliness.
"Don't mess with me, my dear," he spat sarcastically, nearly laughing as Christine flinched, "I don't want your pity. I'll accept your screams of terror, of hate, but pity, in my eyes, is no better than the scum that clings to my walls. Now give me my mask back."
Seeing the pained look in his eyes, Christine nearly gave in, but she couldn't. She wouldn't!
"No, Angel." she whimpered, preparing herself for another blow from his rage. Which came nearly on cue.
"How dare you! Do you wish for me to leave you completely?! I was only going to punish you for a few days, but I think my mind has changed. If you don't give me back my mask, you'll never hear your 'Angel's' voice again!"
Christine curled up into a defensive little ball, yet, his words still stung. "Please stop. I don't like it when you yell." whimpering, Christine tightened her grip on the mask, if that was possible.
Rage. Rage was the only emotion the Phantom could feel towards the tiny woman in the bed.
"Then give me back the only thing that makes me human! That makes me feel human, Christine!"
"Your face isn't that bad." she whispered. Turns out that was the biggest mistake besides taking off the Angel's mask. But, before the Phantom could even begin to yell and rage at her, she began to sing,
Pas de trendesse
Et pas de joie
Loin d'ici
Loin de toi
Rien de plus triste
Que me soupirs
Lorsque vient le jour
Où il me faut parir
Chanson d'enfance
Tu vis toujours dans mon coeur
Toi la plus douce
Toi la plus tendre
C'est la chanson
Qui dit toujours
Dans don esprit
Je vis toujours
C'est la chanson
Qui dit toujours
Dans ton esprit
Je vis toujours
Chanson d'enfance
Tu vis toujours dans mon coeur
Toi, la plus douce
Toi, la plue tendre
C'est la chanson
Qui dit toujours
Dans ton esprit
Je vis toujours
Her voice was as beautiful as ever, yet, the Phantom could not hold back his tears at the tender song she sang for him. All of his earlier anger had slowly trickled out of his system during her song. It was a simple song. A simple song about childhood and how hard it can be to grow up and leave it all behind. He, though, never had a childhood. He had to go from a baby to a full grown adult if he wanted to survive. His Angel had to do the same thing, too. She was only 6 when her Father died, she had to grow up so fast in order to live in the opera house.
Christine saw the tears silently fall down her Angel's cheeks. Why was he crying? Did she sing something wrong? It was just an old lullaby her Papa had taught her when she was very young. Had he never been sung a lullaby before. Didn't his Mother ever sing to him as a child?
"Angel, come to me." Christine whispered softly; her slender arms outstretched. He shook his head frantically, afraid that this was some elaborate trick and he would ultimately be hurt in the end.
"Please, Angel. I'm not afraid. Come here and I'll show you that your face does not bother me." she tried again, this time, a smile on her lovely face.
"You seemed to react differently when you first tore of my mask." the Phantom's voice rasped from the tears. She would hurt him again. She would probably laugh at him once he settled into her arms; thinking him to be the weak and pathetic monster that he was.
Or her offer could be genuine. Maybe Christine did want to hold him. Maybe she did want to comfort her fallen Angel. Looking into her eyes, the Phantom saw nothing but compassion in her big brown eyes. Perhaps he could trust her.
Praying to the God that he never truly believed in, the dreaded Phantom of the Opera sank into the petite ballerina's arms and cried. He cried for all of the cruel and ugly things that had happened to him in his lifetime. The Gypsy camp. Giovanni's home. Persia. His mother; it all came pouring out, soaking his Angel's silky white nightgown.
Christine rocked her Teacher back and forth, comforting him like a small child.
"I'm here, Angel. I'm here and I'm not leaving. I love you, Angel." she whispered into his deformed ear, kissing it softly. Letting out a soft cry, he wrapped his arms around her slim middle; squeezing it slightly to let her know that all he wanted was to stay there with her.
She had said those words. Those three words that he had been denied his whole life of hearing.
"Thank you, Christine."
Neither of them knew how long they sat there or how long they talked. The only thing that the Phantom and his Angel cared about was each other; Raoul never once crossing their mind.
^.^
"Papa! Papa!" a little girl shouted; her brown girls bouncing with every step.
The Phantom, or Erik as he called himself now, smiled as he watched his child run up the steep hill.
"What is it, Dominique, darling?" he laughed, scooping the 3 year-old up into his arms. She was the spitting image of her Mother; her brown curly hair, petite body, a quiet, but powerful, voice, and her little face held Christine's sweet smile. The only thing that showed Erik that she was indeed his child was that she had his mismatched golden eyes. He thanked God everyday that his precious daughter wasn't born with his deformity, which the child seemed to love. "It makes my Papa unique!" she would shyly tell people when the commented on the patches of bumpy, red skin.
"Maman is outside, Papa!" she exclaimed happily, touching his deformed, uncovered cheek.. Erik felt his face fall at this. Christine had fallen ill just weeks after Dominique's birth and the docteur's told her that she only had a couple months. Erik did everything in his power to make his wife of 6 years comfortable, yet everyday a bit more of her slipped away from him.
She survived the illness, but she remained incredibly weak, which confined her to only the garden and the small house he had purchased for them when they were first married. Docteurs told the family many times that if Christine exerted herself, she would more than likely relapse and not survive a second blow from the illness.
"Can you tell me where you saw Maman, little one?"
Dominique pointed with her long, musical finger to the front of the house.
"Thank you, my dear. Go play and I'll be right back."
"Can I play with Maman?" her voice pleaded. She was so close to her Maman. Erik always thought it was because the whole time that Christine was sick, so was Dominique. There also seemed to be an invisible connection between the two. When Dominique had scrapped her knee against a tree she was climbing up, Christine complained about her knee hurting and burning. Or when Christine once hurt her back from the minimal cleaning that she did, Dominique's back was sore for the whole week.
Erik desperately wanted to tell his girl yes, but he had to see what Christine was doing out in the front yard.
"I'm sorry, Niquie, but I need to talk to Maman alone for just a few minutes. After I'm finished, you can play with her all you want."
"Okay. Promise?" she held out her pinky for her version of an unbreakable promise.
Wrapping his larger pinky around Dominique's delicate one, he swore that her and her Maman could play after he was done talking to her. Making sure that his daughter was in a safe area to play, Erik walked, ran is actually a better word, to where Christine was supposed to be. And indeed she was there.
She was looking off into the distance, not really paying attention to
any one thing. Her chestnut curls swayed in the slight breeze and
she looked paler than usual.
"Christine, what are you doing
out here?" Erik asked, sitting next to her on the stone bench that
sat outside their door.
Christine jumped at the sound of her name, not expecting her wonderful husband to appear out of nowhere.
"I swear, Erik, that one day you will terrify me so badly that I'll have a heart attack!" she laughed, but the small smile that had graced her lips fell as she grew serious, "The reason why I'm out here is because I was looking for you."
"What is it, mon ange? Tell me what's wrong." he asked, taking her pretty little hand into his. She looked so worried. About what though? She was always so carefree and happy.
Sighing heavily, her lips tugged at the corners as she looked into her Erik's beautiful golden eyes, "We may need a bigger house."
A confused look spread across Erik's features, "Why a bigger house?"
Christine's bell-like laughter rang throughout the garden. "Because, darling, we're expecting another Angel." Christine was nearly jumping with excitement. She had only just found out last week when she had her monthly cheek up. Her docteur told her that the pregnancy would be a difficult one, considering her history, but if all went well, her and the baby would be healthy.
Erik felt like someone had hit him with a ton of bricks. A baby? A child? Could Christine become sick again? Would she have a miscarriage, like the several that have happened before?
"How did you find out?"
"The docteur told me last week." she beamed. Looking at his wife with this new knowledge, he noticed that she practically glowed, her eyes gleamed, and her stomach was a bit more...rounded out than usual.
"Are you going to be okay?" he had to know. If she said that the baby would live and that she would die, he would be forced to do the unthinkable to her.
"According to 3 different docteurs, the baby and I are going to be perfectly alright."
"How far along are you?"
"3 months. Just think, in a few months, we'll have another little singer running through the house." Christine sighed happily. He seemed to have taken the news well. That was a good thing. When she had told him that she was pregnant with Dominique, he nearly fainted! If the situation hadn't been so serious, it would've been comical.
Thinking about it, Erik had definitely come a long way since their first encounter at the opera house. His temper nearly got Christine killed a few times along with her trembling in fright. Yet, she never ran from him. She was always there to comfort and calm her Erik, which usually made him burst into tears. He had told her long ago about her childhood, so it all made sense to her why he would cry every time she would touch him with kindness.
Slowly, his temper diminished, but his biggest change was when Dominique was born. Holding the tiny, squirming bundle in his arms, Christine saw a permanent change in him; his whole body seemed to become lighter. Almost as if the weight of the world had been taken off of him.
Smiling, Erik was thinking about how much his Christine had changed during the 6 years of their blissful marriage. She used to always be so quiet, so timid. Probably because of him; his temper shot out at her whenever she did something that he didn't approve of, which was pretty much everything she did. But now, she was a strong, well-spoken woman who had learned to love the vicious monster he was.
Then, a small pair of footsteps broke the two lovers out of their thoughts.
"Maman!" Dominique squealed and nearly jumped into Christine's lap.
"Niquie!" she laughed. How she loved her daughter. She was so afraid that she would never get to see her grow up, see her get married and see her grandchildren. Now, she had nothing to fear; she was healthy, somewhat, and was going to get to see all of the wonderful things, along with the child that was growing inside her.
Erik smiled proudly his family. He had dared to dream about Christine loving him, but he never allowed himself to dream of a family. And here they all are. Taking Dominique into his lap, being ever mindful of his wife's delicate condition, and was as giddy as a school boy to tell his child the good news.
"Nique, dear, you know how you always wanted to have a little brother or sister?"
She nodded her head excitedly; like she knew exactly what her Maman and Papa were going to tell her!
"Well, darling, in a few short months, you'll get your wish." Christine finished. The girl's face light up with joy. A baby! She was going to be a big sister!
"Really? I get to be a big sister?"
"Yes, you do. Are you going to help Maman around the house more often?" Erik asked. The last thing he wanted was Christine working while she was with child; she could possibly get sick again or have yet another miscarriage.
"I promise, Papa! Maman, can I help pick out the name? Can I, please?" she begged in the only way Dominique could. She knew that when she used this tone of voice on her parents, they gave into anything!
Rolling her eyes, Christine gave a small kiss on Dominique's cheek, "Of course. Now, go wash up. Lunch will be ready in a few minutes."
Giggling, Dominique leaped off her Papa's lap with a ballerina's grace, making sure to give her Maman and Papa a kiss before she kissed Christine's tummy.
"I can't wait!" she whispered and ran into the house.
"She's just a ball of energy." Erik sighed, hugging Christine around her waist. She didn't reply, which made Erik worry. If she didn't reply to something, that meant she was tired or was coming down with something. "Are you feeling alright, mon ange?"
"Just tired, love. This pregnancy is going to be hard." she finally replied softly; her voice sounding sweet and light. Christine had only closed her eyes for a second, not meaning to fall asleep like that. Before she could open her eyes, two strong arms lifted her feather weight body.
"Erik!" she squeaked. He hadn't picked her up like this in a while; it meant that he was in a very good mood...
"Go to sleep, my Christine. I'll make lunch for Dominique and I. All you have to worry about is you and our baby." he whispered into her ear; his voice putting her to sleep instantly. Walking into the quaint house, Erik walked to their bedroom and gingerly set her onto the bed.
He sat there for awhile, stroking her brown curls. How had he been so lucky to get her? How could such a man, who had been a demon for most of his life, deserve such a woman like Christine?
Leaning down, Erik trailed light kisses from her lips up to her ear, saying,
"I love you, Angel."
I should have the epilogue posted tomorrow or something like that. I'm not very impressed with it, but it mainly consists of fluff and very little, if any, angst in there. I hope you enjoyed it and I know that Erik will give you a hug if you review! Reviews keep Erik safe and sane, but that's a boring Erik...still, review, please!
^.^