Beneath a Moonless Sky
Christine stepped lightly from the carriage and looked at the foreboding house before her. It was overrun with weeds and vines, the door barely visible. She picked her way up to the front of the house and knocked gently. She waited only a few moments before pushing the door inward and stepping over the threshold.
The interior of the house was dark and gloomy, barely visible in the small rays of sunlight that filtered through cracks in the boarded windows. The walls and floor were dull and faded, showing the imprint time had left on this house. As she glided onward, she noticed the furniture was old and threadbare. As she observed the disarray around her, she felt her heart flutter in compassion for the man who had nowhere else to call home.
"Angel?" she called softly into the house. "Angel where are you?"
A shape materialized from the shadows and loomed over the room with a commanding, heart stopping presence.
"Why are you here?"
The voice. His voice. It had been nearly a year since she had heard it that fateful night under the opera house, and it still had the power to send chills down her spine. How, after all this time, did he still have such power over her?
The shape stepped out of the darkness and she was able to see him clearly. His skin that was visible around his mask seemed even more pale and gaunt than Christine remembered. Her stomach tightened as she observed him, but she schooled her features to reveal none of the apprehension she felt, only the compassion and sorrow.
"You look quite ill."
His eyes narrowed and his voice chilled threateningly. "Why are you here?" he demanded.
"I needed to see you," she said, ducking her head and refusing to meet his eyes. She had sworn to herself that she would be brave. That she would not be the same trembling girl she had been when they last met. But now, in the face of his glowering gaze and frigid words, she was reduced once again to a nervous child.
"Are you not afraid of me?" he asked, quietly this time.
Christine lifted her head to meet his eyes. She could not quite tell, but she thought she saw a glimmer of fondness in his eyes.
"Should I be?" she asked hesitantly.
He paused for a long moment. Christine began to fidget nervously as she attempted unsuccessfully to look at anything other than his piercing gaze.
"I mean you no harm."
They stood in silence, neither daring to breathe. The quiet stretched between them and pulled at Christine's nerve until she thought she could bare it no longer. And even then, she could not think of a single thing to say.
Finally he broke their silence.
"Would you care for a cup of tea?" He asked, politely.
She looked at him, quite startled, before nodding. He backed away gracefully and walked out of the room to prepare the tea. Christine took advantage of his absence to compose herself.
This man, her angel, had never been more of a mystery to her. He was no longer the devoted and passionate teacher, however he did not resemble the raving, desperate lover either. If, in this past year he had changed even half as much as she had, he could not be the same man.
The night her angel had taken her away to his home and given her that heartbreaking ultimatum, she had been filled with confusion, sorrow, and anger. Although she had hated him for trying to use threats and violence to imprison her, she had felt her heart break for him. She had seen her teacher, her mentor, as a vulnerable, rejected man. Not an angel, not a phantom, but a flesh and blood man. A man who ached in his soul from a life of disdain, hatred and abuse. A man who wanted nothing more than to be loved.
In the face of her accusations and pleading, he had stood strong and cruel, not allowing his heart to be moved. But when finally confronted with her compassion and grace, he melted like a block of ice in the heat of the sun. Seeing him so vulnerable and loving, allowing her to leave with Raoul, she had felt her heart ache and desired to sooth his misery and self hatred.
While in the middle of these musings, her angel entered, carrying a tea tray. They moved to the couch and sat sipping their tea.
"I'm to be married tomorrow." Christine said suddenly. The words seemed to escape from her mouth of their own accord.
If the Phantom was startled he did not show it.
"To the boy?" he asked.
"Yes. To Raoul," she said nervously.
"Congratulations. I hope you will be very happy."
"He has already purchased a house for us."
He nodded, his eyes never leaving her face.
"We will be traveling the country after the wedding. Raoul won't tell me exactly where we are going, but he is very excited about the arrangements."
She paused for a moment to look at his face before continuing.
"We will be very happy together, Raoul and I. He will take good care of me. And he loves me. He will be a good father for our children and we-"
CRASH
Christine abruptly stopped speaking as she looked at the dark stain on the wall from where a tea cup had just shattered. She hadn't even seen him throw it, but knew from his labored breathing that he must be trying to control his emotions.
When he spoke his voice was hard and filled with hate.
"Did you come here to bask in the glory of my misery‽ Or is there a purpose to your narrative, my protege?"
Her lips were frozen, unmoving and fearful. She could barely manage the slight shake of her head that shook her perfect curls around her face. His eyes seemed to glare into the most tender depths of hear heart as he continued.
"I have no interest in knowing the particulars of your happy existence, my darling Christine. Is it not enough that you have chosen to spend your life with another man? Must I also be forced to hear of your joy and love on the eve of your nuptials?"
"I do not love him."
Christine clamped her hand over her mouth, shocked by the words that had come from her.
He sat next to her in stunned silence.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come," she said, flustered and embarrassed. "You're right, I should have left you to live your life in peace."
Christine began to rise but a hard grip on her wrist held her where she was.
"What about what you said on the rooftop? You swore your love to him."
"I know," she said, burying her head in her hands. "I know but God help me I am young and foolish. I . . . I can't fully explain my actions to you, partially because I cannot even understand them myself. What I do know is that I was terrified for my life. Raoul, bless the poor foul, offered me a way to escape that fear. I truly believed he could make everything right. And he did try, but I've realized now, I don't want the life he offers me."
Christine fell silent and the phantom looked at her curiously.
"Does he not offer you love and support. By marrying him you will want for nothing."
"I know...and I think that is part of the problem." Christine said. "I cannot live my life as if nothing had ever happened. I do not want to spend my life in petticoats and politics. How can I live a facade of a life with women who have known nothing but dresses and jewels and young gentlemen on one knee begging for their hand. That is the world I have tasted these past months and I will not let that be my future!"
Christine turned to him and felt tears spring into her eyes.
"I can't forget the music."
He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. Christine thought she could see something in his eyes, some emotion hiding just below the surface, but he hid his heart too well.
"Music is not something you ever forget. Not once it has been imprinted on your soul," he said.
Christine smiled slightly. "Are you still trying to be my teacher, Angel? Or do you simply overflow with your words of wisdom."
"I have no wisdom to offer you. I am merely telling you something you already know."
There was a short silence before Christine spoke.
"I came to apologize."
"Christine-"
"No, please. Let me speak. You have done terrible things. I do not absolve you from any of that. However, I cannot ignore the fact that I've made mistakes, too. I'm sorry I tried to have you killed. I'm sorry I listened to Raoul. I'm sorry for pulling off your mask at the performance and that you had to leave your home because of me. I'm sorry that I hurt you."
She said that last phrase with such tenderness that he looked up into her eyes, shocked.
"You have no need to apologize for hurting me. If anything it is I who should be asking your forgiveness."
"Nevertheless," she said, "I am sorry. For that and for so much more. I wanted you to know that."
"My Christine, there is nothing you could do that I would not forgive. I on the other hand...the things I did, to you and the boy, they were-"
Christine shook her head and put her finger to his lips. The touch sent a shock coursing through his whole body and his voice stuck in his throat.
"Angel, I have already forgiven you."
He looked up at her with eyes full of fear. Fear that if he allowed himself to hope, his heart would once again be shattered. Christine could see that same broken man from the night at the opera house and reached out to take his hand.
"How can you say that? I am...vile. The lowest of the low, and I treated you with such cruelty. How can even begin to consider forgiveness for the things I've done?"
"How can I not forgive you? You are my teacher, my comforter, my Angel. I know what you did that night was wrong, and at the time I was very angry and afraid. But now as I look back on it, I feel no anger or bitterness towards you. I have even tried to convince myself I should be angry." Christine looked at his face, his beautiful eyes, and smiled to herself. "But I just can't do it. I can't carry any hatred for you because all I can think about is your music. Every hour you spent with me after my fathers death. You sang to me when I cried and instructed me when I was full of joy. I miss that sometimes."
"Yes, so do I," he said sadly.
They sat quietly, Christine running her gentle fingers over the hand that she had clasped. She slowly raised the hand up and placed a soft kiss on his knuckles. She felt his hand stiffen and he almost pulled it away but she held on tightly.
"Angel, that night...the night so long ago, I saw the darkest parts of your soul. And even though it terrified me, it also changed me. I didn't understand what I saw, I still don't. But I want to."
Christine gracefully moved forward and reached her hand toward his mask. Before she could even touch it his hand wrapped around her wrist, stopping her movement.
"Christine-" he seemed to be choking on his words. "I cannot bare to see your disgust and horror again. I think it might kill me."
"Please, Angel. Please trust me."
He slowly released her hand and she gently removed the white mask from his face. There was hardly any light coming through the window but Christine could still make out the hideous disfigurement. However, she did not scream, she merely studied him closely.
"You," she said softly, "Are the most beautiful man I have ever seen."
"Do not mock me!" he hissed with loathing, turning his face away in shame.
"I am not!" she cried out, reaching to rest her hand tenderly against his scarred cheek. "You forget how I know you, my Angel. I know you are a good man. I speak not only of your face but your heart. Your heart, Angel, it is the most beautiful part of you. It is so full of passion and music and love. How could I not see that beauty?"
All this time, Christine had moved closer to him, until only a breath separated them. Slowly, cautiously, she brushed her lips against his. It was the lightest of touches, yet it seemed to carry such heat and fire.
"I love you, Angel."
His eyes flew open in shock. "You...love me?"
"Yes. I love you. God help me I love you. Freely and fully with my whole heart and soul."
"Wha...but...no." Her angel spluttered for a moment before falling silent.
Christine reached out and kissed him again, this time longer and deeper. She could hardly see him but sensed his heart racing in his chest.
"Angel," she said, her lips resting at his ear. "Do you love me?"
"Yes, my dearest Christine. You are the only thing good and pure in my life. I love you."
They kissed long and deeply. Eventually, her Angel led her away to his room where he laid her in his bed. Night had come and they could see nothing, but Christine knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that this was the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. Her blood raced in her veins and she knew she could never feel this love with another.
And with that thought she gave her heart, soul, and body completely to this man.
Christine woke several hours later. The moment her eyes opened she knew something was wrong. She sat up and looked around at the empty bed.
He was gone.
Somehow she knew it in her soul. He had left her.
She searched the house and called to him, hoping against hope that he was still here, just waiting for her to wake up. But the house was empty.
Every dream she had made the night before, every hope and desire she had, shattered by one man's cowardice.
She left several hours later and made her way to the church.
She had a wedding to attend.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Hope you enjoyed it! ~LouisaAnn