A one-shot phic kind of about Erik and the Girys' after the fire at the Opera Populaire. Some of it gives you insight as to what Erik is thinking, but most is from my point of view. Also, you kind of get a teensy bit of what Meg might be thinking of Erik. But just a teensy bit. Please read and review!
Help Me Say Goodbye
His heart beat loudly in his ears as he fled the burning opera house. His footsteps echoed off the walls of the smoky caverns, and he got closer and closer to the exit. He finally reached it, and burst outside, coughing up smoke, and choking. He staggered through the alley, looking for a safe place to sit down and regain his composure.
I let her go; she is gone. I am alone now, and will be forever. What have I done? Why did I let her leave me?
He sat down in an empty doorway and caught his breath. He gazed past the buildings and could see the glow of the blazing Opera Populaire. Silently, he cursed himself for bringing destruction to his masterpiece. His home, her home. Not anymore, never would her innocent beautiful face grace the halls of the opera.
She left with him; they are gone. What will I do now? Where will I go? My home is gone, there is nothing left for me. Maybe it would have been better had I let the mob kill me. Perhaps I should go back and turn myself in. It would be for the best.
Once he could breathe properly again, he stood up, and shakily walked back toward the opera house. The screams of the patrons, dancers, and singers could be heard from nearly two blocks away. Quickening his pace, he approached the fiery building, sticking to the shadows. As he got within several meters of the crowd, he could make out the familiar forms of Madame Giry and her daughter Meg.
He somewhat regretted that he would probably never see those two again. Sadly, he looked on as the women hugged one another and watched their home turn to ash. A tear ran down the soot covered face of Meg, and he realized that he felt a strange connection to the young Giry. He had watched her grown from tiny babe, to young woman. He was about to turn away and head back down to the underground labyrinth, when something in Meg's hand caught his eye.
Could it be? How did she get that?
He slowly crept closer, so that he could get a better look at the object in her hand. It was his mask. His one protection from the rest of the world. The one thing that made him feel secure. He raised his hand up to feel the right side of his face. The veins and coarse skin were stained with hot, salty tears and soot from the fire. He closed his eyes and remembered Christine's touch on this skin.
Oh Christine.
Quickly, he shook his head and came back to reality. He tiptoed over to the two women and tapped Madame Giry's shoulder lightly. She started at his soft touch, and turned harshly to face him.
"Erik!" she gasped, whispering his forgotten name.
Meg turned too, and paled. He gave her a penetrating stare and then looked down. She looked from his steely gaze down to her left hand, in which she held his porcelain mask. Slowly she lifted the mask and pressed it into his outstretched hand.
"Thank you," he whispered softly, taking it from her and putting it back on his face. For the first time ever, he offered the quiet girl a shy smile.
"Where will you go Erik?" Madame Giry asked, placing a cold hand on his arm.
"I don't know. I may not go anywhere, it would be best if I was just gone." He gave her a look, that explained what he meant.
"No Erik, do not think like that. Despite what you may think, there are still people who care for you." She glanced over at Meg, who was beginning to shiver in her wet trousers and blouse. "Come with us Erik, we have a small cottage in the country and there is a spare bedroom."
"I couldn't possible impose," he began to protest, but Madame Giry interrupted.
"No Erik, you must come." She looked around and spotted a hansom cab waiting nearby. "Come along, we will get a ride with that cab."
The three slipped away from the crowd and into the cab. Madame Giry paid the driver, and they began the journey to the Giry's country cottage. It took several hours, and they did not arrive until nearly dawn. Erik spent the long ride gazing out the window at the night time scenery they passed by.
It is all so beautiful; it is amazing that I have never appreciated the majesty of nature before this.
He wished that he had thought to bring some parchment and quills with him, for he was suddenly struck with inspiration. He played the tune in his head over and over so that it would not be forgotten, and then settled back into the plush seat.
Meg sat across from the forlorn man, and often stole glances at his weary form. She was fascinated and scared of this masked man across from her. As a child she was terrified of him, and loved to hear the tales of the deformed monster below the opera. Now, as a grown woman, she felt that he was not a monster. He was a genius with an unfortunate handicap; his face.
They soon arrived at the little cottage. It was on the edge of a small lake and surrounded by tall trees in a dense forest. The group of three got out of the cab, and entered the house. It was small and quite musty having not been used in several years. Madame Giry lit some candles, and showed Erik to his room behind the kitchen.
"Goodnight Erik, please try to get some sleep; it will do you good." They said their goodnights, and the Giry women went upstairs while Erik explored his own little room.
It was dark, which made it somewhat appealing to him. There was one bed, and a small desk, chair, and bureau for furniture. The walls were stone, and unfinished, so the room was quite chilly and damp, not unlike his home beneath the opera. He took off his heavy cape, and hung it on a hook on the wall, and then climbed into the small, feather bed.
All night Erik was tormented with nightmares that replayed the Don Juan Triumphant fiasco. He found himself waking nearly every half hour, and could not get the vision of Christine in her wedding dress out of his tortured mind. Finally, he gave up on sleep and crept out of the cottage to explore the grounds.
It was dark out still, for the sun had not risen and the full moon was hidden by the tall trees and grey clouds. He slithered through the trees, keeping the little cottage in sight, until he came upon a small lake that shimmered in the dim light. A log sat beside it, and he rested against it, looking out over the dark water.
Oh Christine…this moment is so beautiful; I wish you could be here to share it with me.
He looked up at a lone star shining in the black sky.
I love you Christine, my Angel of Music. You will always be in my heart. I pray, for since your kiss I now know that there is indeed a God, that you would be gazing at the same star as I. That somewhere out there, are hearts are beating as one with the Music of the Night. That one day, I will learn to let you go and love another. You have shown me what it means to be loved and I will never forget that for as long I am breathing.
Erik's gaze fell briefly down from that one star. He realized what he had been thinking, that he was much calmer, and no longer harboured any hostile feelings. He thought about this while he looked once more to the solitary star.
Since leaving the Opera, I have felt calm. Perhaps, living there in the darkness was keeping my tender side from showing. Perhaps, now that I am free of the chains that bind me to the solitude of night, I can begin to show and receive kindness from those around me.
He stood up and looked around him. The tree boughs swayed slightly in a cool breeze, and he could see the sun beginning to shine at the edge of the sky.
He approached the lake, and knelt down on its shore. He took the ring that Christine had given to him out of his waistcoat pocket. After giving it one last look, he took it in his fist and flung it across the rippling waters. It landed with a small splash in the middle and was gone.
After doing this, Erik felt even calmer, and began to smile for the first time in a very long time. Softly, he touched his long, musician's fingers to the water's edge and sang in little more than a whisper, "Now I've said goodbye."
A/N: That last line, "Now I've said goodbye" is the same tune as Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again's "Help me say goodbye", but you probably already knew that didn'tcha?