Author's Note:
Well, I was hoping this would turn into an actual fic, but at this point, it's just a one-shot. Maybe it will evolve later...
In the meantime, enjoy.
Leave the hurt behind.
That's what Christine kept telling herself she was doing as she moved through the dark catacombs of the Paris Opera house, hot on the heels of her fiancé, Raoul. She had just kissed the Phantom, her Angel of Music, in order to save the man she loved, and then he had sent her away so she wouldn't feel the wrath of the mob. She had done the right thing, hadn't she? So why did she feel as if her heart was in a vice?
Leave the hurt behind.
The echoes of the mob were growing louder. They would find the Phantom soon. His fate was sealed. Unless she did something. Christine stopped dead in her tracks and closed her eyes. Raoul, realizing his fiancée's footsteps has stopped, turned back to her, holding his torch high.
"Come on, Christine! We must go now!" Eyes still closed, Christine shook her head.
"No, Raoul. You have to go. I can't leave him." Christine's eyes opened and she looked into her fiancé's eyes.
"I can't let him die." Raoul's heart dropped into his stomach. She couldn't be serious. Who would Christine, his Christine, want to go back to that monster? He reached out to take Christine's hand, but Christine recoiled into the shadows just outside of the light of Raoul's torch.
"Christine, come on." Raoul coaxed. "I'm not leaving without you."
"Yes, you are," Christine said firmly. "I told you, I'm not leaving him to die."
"Have you forgotten what that demon did? The people he killed? What he did to you? How can you possibly want to save that...that...monster!"
"Don't ask me to explain, Raoul, because I can't. I can't explain why, but I love him." In a fluid movement, Christine removed the engagement ring from her left hand and held it out in front of her.
"Give this to someone more deserving." And with that, Christine dropped the ring into Raoul's open hand, turned, and raced blindly back towards her Angel.
The shouts were getting louder. The mob was getting closer. After an agonizingly long run back through the maze of pathways, Christine found the door to the Phantom's music room. She could hear someone playing the piano on the other side. The Phantom. Her Angel. He had accepted his fate and was sitting at his piano awaiting his death. Without another thought, Christine burst through the door, startling the Phantom into silence. He stared at the woman in the doorway, her hair disheveled, a wild look in her eyes, her breath coming quickly.
"Christine," he breathed her name and rose slowly from the piano bench. "I told you to leave. Why are you here?"
"I couldn't leave you, my Angel." Christine replied, as if that answered everything. "I couldn't let you die."
"Sure you could," the Phantom replied icily. "As if you truly care for me. I'm a monster. Something to be feared and loathed."
"No. I reacted out of shock, not fear. My Angel, I have always loved you. From the first moment you came to me all of those years ago."
"Don't patronize me, madame. The mob approaches. If you don't go now, they will kill you as well." Christine crossed the room and stopped just before her body touched his. She looked up into his icy blue eyes, eyes that showed her no warmth or compassion.
"Then let them kill me. I love you. And I can't stand to be away from you. That's why I came back. That's why I'm here now." Before the Phantom could reply, Christine reached out and put her hand on his mask. Frozen at her touch, the Phantom did nothing to stop Christine as she removed the masked and truly looked upon his face. He waited for her screams to echo through his home again and draw the mob to his door. But the screams never came. Instead, a soft hand reached out and touched the damaged side of his face, the thing that had marked him as the Devil's Child.
"My love," Christine whispered, her hand never leaving her Angel's face. "I'm sorry for everything I've done to you. I don't expect you to forgive me, but maybe this can help show you that I am truly sorry and that I really do love you." With that, Christine closed what little distance was left between them and kissed her Angel. At first, the Phantom just stood there, unsure of what to do. That feeling vanished almost as quickly as it had arrived and he kissed her back with all of the passion his soul held for her. Christine. His Christine. She was kissing him, and willingly at that. Not because he was forcing her in order to save another, but because she truly wanted to. He could have stayed in her embrace forever, but then a loud bang startled the pair out of their haze. The Phantom looked down at Christine and saw fear in her eyes. He took his mask back from her, put it back on his face, and then took her hands back in his.
"Stay here, just for a moment. I'm going to grab some clothes and then we're leaving. That door won't hold them out forever." Without waiting for Christine's reply, the Phantom darted into his master bedroom and threw clothes into a canvas bag. As he raced back into the music room, he saw Christine standing in the back doorway that led to the catacombs with something clutched to her chest. His music. She had grabbed as many of his masterpieces as she could carry. He took the scores from her and stashed them in his bag as he hurried out the door. And not a moment too soon. No sooner had the Phantom slammed the door to the catacombs and locked it, he and Christine heard the mob finally break through the front door and surge into his home.
"Angel, we must go." Christine said, moving further into maze of pathways. "Leave the hurt behind."
"Yes, we must leave." Turning on his heel, the Phantom took Christine's hand and started running into the blackness of the catacombs. It was a good thing Christine was holding her Angel's hand because the darkness was so complete, she couldn't even see him right in front of her. But the Phantom didn't need light to see. He had built the passageways himself. He knew them better than anyone. And his night vision was far superior to the average man's.
Suddenly, a loud crash echoed through the shadows. Both Christine and the Phantom stopped.
"Damn. They got through the back door," the Phantom whispered.
"How much farther?" Christine whispered back.
"We're nearly to the door that leads to the stables. We'll grab my two horses and make our escape to the countryside." Taking Christine's hand again, the Phantom surged forward. After racing through the shadows for several more minutes, they turned a corner and in front of them was a door with light streaking in from around the edge and under the bottom of the door. The outside world was right there. With a final burst of speed, the Phantom rushed the door and threw it open. The pair found themselves in a room filled with saddles and bridles. They were in the tack room of the opera house stables. The Phantom crossed to the open door that led to the rest of the barn and looked to the left. There, standing in the aisle, holding his two saddled and bridled horses, was Madame Giry.
"Giry?" The Phantom whispered.
"Monsieur," Giry replied, hurrying to him with the horses.
"How did you..."
"I saw Monsieur Raoul. He said Miss Daae had refused him and had returned to her Angel of Music. I knew you would be here soon and would need your horses ready to flee the mob. Your saddle bags have food and water."
"Thank you, Giry. I always knew you would never betray me." The Phantom turned to Christine and told her to grab two of the travelling cloaks hanging beside her. After they both secured their cloaks, the Phantom helped Christine onto a tall bay gelding before he swung up into his own saddle on his black stallion.
"Take the roads north to Calais. My brother is there. He will be able to get you passage on a ship to get you both safely out of the country." Madame Giry instructed. With a nod, the Phantom put heels to his stallion's side and thundered out of the barn, Christine at his side.
They rode for hours, over hills, across streams, further and further from Paris and out into the countryside. When they finally stopped for the night, the last of the sun's rays were disappearing from the sky. While Christine gathered firewood, the Phantom set up the tent that Madame Giry had been so kind to pack.
"Angel?"
"Yes, Christine?" The Phantom looked up from the fire into Christine's eyes.
"If we're going to be traveling together, do you think that I could know your true name? I mean, I can continue calling you Angel if you'd prefer. You are my Angel of Music after all. But if I could know your true name..."
"Erik." Christine stopped mid sentence when she heard him say his name.
"What?"
"Erik. My true name is Erik. And you may use it if you wish."
"Erik..." Christine tried the name out. To Erik's ears, it sounded perfect. His name on her lips...sounding just as sweet as his lyrics did when she sang them.
"So, when we get to Calais, where do you think we will go from there?" Christine asked.
"I was thinking America. I don't think anyone would go all the way there just to look for us." Christine nodded and silence fell over their little camp. As they sat by the fire, Christine moved closer to Erik and rested her head on his shoulder. Erik wrapped his arms around Christine and held her close. He still couldn't believe she was here, running away to another world with him. She loved him. And he loved her with every fiber of his being.