The True Distortion
A/N: Thank you for checking this oneshot out. It's sort of an expierimental thing I tried and wanted to publish and is really a brief character study, and as odd as it sounds, everyone is a bit OOC in this. Hope you enjoy, please leave a review and don't be afraid to critique!
"That's it, push! Good girl, keep pushing!" the midwife cheered
Christine de Changy groaned from her spot on the bed. She was soaked in sweat and blood. Her stomach felt like it was wringing itself inside-out and she was nearly unconscious from the pain. She pushed harder and suddenly collapsed, crying
"I can't do it" she sobbed
"Yes you can, girl, that's it. Just keep pushing" the midwife shouted
Christine closed her eyes tight. So this was what it meant to be a woman. She felt like she'd rather be dead. Oh of course, she'd been delighted when she told her husband, Raoul, the happy news nine months ago. It had all seemed like a wonderful dream then, when she was so blissfully naive.
After Il Muto and Joseph Buquet's murder, Raoul had suddenly confessed his love, and he and Christine had fled Paris and eloped in a whirlwind of excitement and activity. They had confessed their love, over and over, trailing memories of soft kisses and gentle hugs over every carriage and steamship they had taken when they fled to London. They gazed lovingly at each other every day, whether they were inches apart by the fireplace in their parlor or dashes apart on a ballroom floor. Raoul still had half of his inheritance his father hadn't confiscated yet, so they were still well off, but Raoul still took a job bookkeeping and copying at home and kept them living comfortably and well provided for. In fact, ever since she had married Raoul, her life had become nothing but frivolous pleasure seeking, a princess fairy-tale life with her Prince Charming, whirling around in beautiful, dazzling ball gowns at holiday balls and dances, social dinners, shopping sprees, charity events and fun sporting events, basically any type of social outing available since everyone wanted to meet the mysterious, yet charming French Vicomte and Vicomtess. It had been wonderful, and not a day went by when they didn't lovingly gaze at each other, laughing and kissing at breakfast or in the library. Christine had been so occupied, she hadn't given a thought to that dreadful Phantom, or what had happened that night after her debut and she hadn't even considered singing again.
And then the happy day had arrived. Christine was expecting. She and Raoul were both delighted and deliriously happy, dreaming of their future child. Christine had knitted all sorts of baby clothes and things for her little one. She hadn't minded the dreadful morning sickness, or the painful cramps at first, but she soon got weary of her endlessly changing moods and eternal back pains from supporting her bulging belly, or her huge shapeless gowns she had to wear, or sitting home each night with vulgar pains and hunger cravings. But she hadn't complained. It was a woman's duty, after all, to please her husband and bear his children. She just hadn't any idea it would be so painful.
She just couldn't do this. The unbearable pain was going to tear her apart. She whimpered
"I can't do this. I'll never make it" she moaned
"Yes you will dear, just push!"
Christine grabbed the midwife's hand, breathlessly pleading "Would you please tell my husband how much I love him?"
"I'll tell him no such thing, dear. It's not my place when you can tell him all you wish in another moment or two"
"Please, it hurts so badly" Christine screamed, gasping for breath. She screamed again as a fresh round of pain ran through her like lightning.
"Push, dear push! That's it, I can see the head! Keep pushing, don't stop now! Push!"
Christine groaned louder than before. Her body shifted weight and she could hear her fragile bones shifting and cracking as she pushed with every ounce of strength she had left. And finally, with an unexplainable noise, composed of deep screams and grunts and groans that seemed to come from deep inside the earth, she pushed one final time and collapsed from exhaustion, panting heavily.
She didn't see the midwife's look of terror and revulsion as she guided the baby out. But a few moments later, she heard the ear-splitting scream and started to sit up
"What is it? What's wrong?" she asked in a panic
"Saints preserve us" the midwife whispered hoarsely, staring at the baby before her.
"What is it? Can I please see my baby?" Christine asked helplessly
The midwife left the room for a moment, beckoning for Raoul to come in. He did so, beaming
"Hello darling. Well, where's our healthy boy?" he asked cheerfully, kissing Christine's sweaty forehead
"Sir, the- it- come, see for yourself" the midwife stammered, handing the baby to Raoul. Christine saw the warm, happy grin slide off his face like ice as he first glanced at their child.
"Can I please see my baby?" she screamed shrilly
Raoul sighed coldly, bending down and almost mechanically placing the baby in his mother's arms. The last sight Christine saw before slipping into unconsciousness was a tiny little boy, crying shrilly, a horrid, long deformity spreading down the left side of his face that Christine knew the sight of all too well.
Christine sighed. The baby cried again and she shifted the blanketed bundle to her right arm, looking for one of his few toys. The train ride was bumpy and uncomfortable and she felt like wailing along with her little son. Especially when she knew she wouldn't have him very much longer...
After his birth, when Christine was actually conscious and recovered a few days later, nursing the baby, Raoul had come in to talk to her.
"Christine, this boy... well, it's bloody obvious he isn't mine" he blurted out angrily
"I know" she said softly, tears of shame slowly rolling down her face. She had prayed Raoul would never have to know as long as they lived. But, the night after her debut, she had been all alone with her Angel. She was innocent then, but his music explored deep unknown passions within them both and she found out well that night that her angel was first and foremost a man. He had shown her new feelings of ecstasy and glorious music that night. And when she knew she was pregnant, she had had a few doubts, but she had quickly forgotten them. What were the chances?
Bloody good, she realized. Raoul would have never known, had it not been for this. A trailing red line of bumps and crevices, marred ugly red skin and a half formed ear scarred her little angel's face, a literal scarlet letter, proclaiming to all the world that this wasn't her husband's child. There was no possible way anyone could doubt whose it was. Because of a mother's grave mistake, her child would be shamefully marked for the rest of his days.
"We can't keep him, you know" Raoul whispered
Christine looked up sharply
"Whatever do you mean? Of course we're keeping him. He's our son"
"Your son" Raoul corrected bitterly
"Well, yes, but... What do you mean, we can't keep him? Of course we can keep him! We aren't lacking for money nor means to raise him"
"Yes, dear, I know, but...you must understand my position! My father wants an heir, a grandchild. I can't have some bastard child under my roof, and try to pass it off as my own when that...thing is clearly anything but!"
"Raoul please-"
"Christine, I've made my decision. This is for your son's best interest too. Do you think it would be easy for him when he's older, living with us with that face, trying to claim we're his parents? He'll be a laughingstock, or worse, he'll be hated by everyone in society! We can't keep him here."
"And you think it would be better to ship him off to some awful asylum or orphanage, where they'll mock him and hate him just for his face? You want to throw him out into the cold on his own, to fend for himself? At least with parents, biological or not, to love him, he'd stand a chance in the world" she pleaded
Raoul stared at her coldly
"Christine, consider yourself lucky you aren't being thrown out with him, after such deception towards your husband" he said icily
She stared down at her son. How could she possibly give him away? It wasn't possible to think of such cruelty towards anyone, especially a helpless child that had done no wrong.
"Raoul please, just give him a chance. Maybe if you tried to love him-"
"Madam, do not dare suggest that I try to love a little demon-faced child that certainly isn't my own. Now, if you can't find a suitable place to let him stay, you'll be out with him on the streets as well"
"Raoul, darling, please just-"
"Christine, don't toy with me" he shouted angrily, moving to strike her
She shrank back in fear and he sighed. She looked down at the warm bundle in her arms, softly sighing in his sleep
"How long do I have?" she whispered
"A week. If you haven't chosen a suitable place to put him by then, I shall choose one for you" he said. Christine couldn't help but flinch at the way he said that, like her child was an unwanted wedding gift or hideous gown.
"Where?" she asked
He shrugged "There's a plethora of churches and hospitals in London. Make your decision and I'll escort you there"
He started to leave when she cried "Raoul, I know where I can take him"
"Splendid. I'll escort you to there first thing tomorrow. How far-"
"No Raoul. I have to do this alone"
He glanced at her, starting to argue but Christine glared at him
"It's obvious you don't have any feelings for this child, so it really won't matter if you see him off or not, but it matters to me. And I have to go alone. Please"
He sighed "Very well. Where shall you take him?"
"To Paris"
Christine stumbled out of her bitter memories as her dear boy cried sharply again. The train ride was almost over, and she could see the distinct shape of her old home looming before them. Christine dangled a worn feather before his face, tickling his little tummy and hands to make him laugh. The conductor called out her stop, and she grabbed her bag and stepped off the train. She crossed the bustling street to the Garnier Opera House, ignoring the main entrance and instead going to the stables, silently descending through corridors and dark tunnels before she arrived. He was standing there, in the boat upon the lake as she walked up. She cleared her throat
"Erik?"
He looked up sharply, the white mask gleaming coldly in the dim candlelight, a cruel grin spreading over his face "I knew you would be back, my dear"
"Erik, there's something you must know. About Raoul and I"
"Oh, your little noble lover. I see you two are well off" he said bitterly, gesturing to her fine traveling suit and bulging cloak
"Erik, please don't make this harder than it must be" she whispered
"So I suppose you would wish me to just ignore the pain for your convenience? Everything I've felt since you left me again, it should all just fade away since I suppose it makes our delicate little Christine uncomfortable" he said sarcastically
"There's so much you don't know, Erik! If you would just let me explain-"
"I don't believe I really care to know, my dear. Just answer me this: Have you come back to stay? To sing again?"
She shook her head miserably "No, I haven't"
"Then there's nothing left to explain Christine. If you cannot-"
"Erik, just look" she said, parting her traveling cloak to reveal her blanketed baby
He inhaled sharply and turned around "Well, this certainly explains a great deal. A fine heir to the de Changy throne, I see. I suppose you felt the need to inform me-"
"Erik, this is your SON!" she screamed
He turned around
"What did you say?" he asked quietly
She held the baby out to him, and he gently removed the blanket from its face, his hand instantly going to his heart when he did
"Mon dieu. This can't be true" he whispered in shock
"But it is."
"So, I suppose our little affair hasn't gone unnoticed"
"No, it hasn't"
"Well, you've a wonderfully healthy child, Christine, other than his beautiful little face. I suppose that makes it most inconvenient for his question of parentage. " he said bitterly
"Erik, I know what I did to you was wrong. It was a cruel, heartless decision and I've regretted it ever since. You have given me everything, and I betrayed you. I know I could never expect your forgiveness, and I know I don't deserve to ask for it. But I must ask you for one more thing"
"You would like me to take you back" he said flatly
She shook her head "Not me"
He looked at her and then at her boy
"Christine, I couldn't. I just couldn't"
"Erik, he's your child-our child-"
"Then why don't you take him and raise him with your precious Vicomte then? I'm sure he's such a delighted new father"
"Quite the contrary actually. He gave me a week to be rid of...the baby, or we would both be out on the streets"
"That bastard" Erik whispered sharply
She nodded "I know. But I've no choice"
"How kind of you."
"Erik, if you don't take him, he'll be in an asylum or worse!"
"You're really going to be rid of your child" he whispered in shock "I had known you were selfish and a bit spolied, but I never realized you could sink to such a level"
"Erik, please don't make this any harder than it must be" she begged "Erik, I can't give you anything but your child. I can't stay here, but you can always have a part of me. You could take your son and raise him as your own, anywhere, anyway you'd like. You could have someone to love, and give him the chance for a life you never had. He's yours, Erik"
He looked up at her, tears brimming beneath the white mask
"You would really do this?"
"It's the hardest thing I've ever had to do. You're the only person in the world I would trust with the most important thing in my life, and you're the only person I know who would love and cherish him with all your heart. I know it's horridly unfair to ask, Erik, but please, if you have any ounce of compassion or sympathy, or even the tiniest feeling of love left within you at all that hasn't been forgotten yet, you'll take him. That's all I ask of you. Please" she begged
He let out a low sigh and nodded softly. She smiled, and held the baby close to her, nestling him against her smooth face, kissing his cheeks over and over gently, holding him tightly against her as she quietly cried. Erik stood, watching her and realized she wasn't the same innocent he had known those months ago. He had been responsible for her loss, after all, but still, something must have changed deep within her, something he couldn't explain.
She whispered goodbye to her son one last time, and gently placed him in Erik's outstretched arms, showing him how to support the baby's tender head and body. He chuckled
"I must confess, Christine, you've made a poor choice, for I don't know the first thing about children"
"Then you'll have to learn" she said sadly, holding back another sob. He looked up at her
"Thank you" he whispered
She nodded, placing a small suitcase down beside him "Some clothes and toys and such I've made for him, and a small portrait so she'll remember, for I had hoped you...well, you will at least let him know I exist, shan't you?" she asked meekly
He nodded, looking down at the child
"And there's some money in there, for nesscities, at least four thousand francs, maybe more"
He nodded, and suddenly the baby began crying. Christine smiled at the sudden look of panic on Erik's face
"Here, all you must do is rock him gently. I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you sang to him" she suggested quietly
Erik looked at her "Why don't you?"
She nodded and softly began
Think of me
think of me fondly,
when we've said goodbye.
Remember me
once in a while -
please promise me you'll try.
When you find that,
Once again, you long
to take your heart back
and be free -
if you ever find a moment,
spare a thought for me ...
She looked up at Erik, intently watching her care for her young child and began blushing and looked back down at her little Angel's face
We never said our love was evergreen,
or as unchanging as the sea -
but if you can still remember,
stop and think of me ...
Think of all the things
we've shared and seen -
don't think about the things
which might have been ...
Her little boy was fast asleep by now, but Christine continued singing, the tears in her eyes stayed by the smooth sound of her voice.
Think of me,
think of me waking,
silent and resigned.
Imagine me,
trying too hard to put you
from my mind.
Recall those days,
look back on all those times,
think of the things we'll never do -
there will never be a day, when
I won't think of you ...
She finished sadly.
Erik nodded and looked up "Christine?"
"Yes?"
"What is his name?"
She smiled ruefully "I hadn't named him. I was going to leave it up to you"
He looked at her gently
"I shall name him Christophe. After his mother"
She smiled sadly, embracing Erik gently for what she knew would be the last time "I'm so sorry it had to end like this."
He remained silent and released her, swiftly picking up the suitcase and stepping into the boat, going back to his lair
"Goodbye" she said softly as he disappeared into the mist
Ten years later, a rapidly aged Christine stepped out of a carriage in front of a small home in the countryside. She tipped the driver and stepped out. It had taken her many years, but she had finally done it. Raoul had died four years ago, leaving her a very young, rich widow. She had never truly loved him, after he forced her to give up Christophe. She never could. If only she had been strong enough to defy him back then, maybe things would have turned out differently. Maybe Raoul wouldn't have been in that carriage accident after another of their fights. Maybe she wouldn't have attempted suicide three times. Maybe...not it wouldn't do to dwell on the past. Not now. Not when she'd come this far already.
Three years it had taken her to track him down. Private detectives, reports, numerous trips to Paris, she'd been through it all. But she had finally found him, in an isolated little cottage in the southern French countryside. This was where the Phantom had made his home, hopefully with his son.
She looked at the very attractive, well attended house. A beautiful oak door, surrounded by large French windows letting in the warm sunlight. She had just summoned up her courage and was about to knock when she heard a little voice say
"Papa, come listen"
A young boy ran into the room. Christine could see his small figure quite clearly through the window: curly black hair, a healthy young physique in fine tailored clothes and a gleaming, small, white half mask on the left side of his face. He ran over to a fine grand piano in the center of the room, bouncing up and down with excitement and called again
"Papa, come hear my piece!"
"Very well Christophe, but have a bit of patience my boy!"
Christine couldn't help but gasp when she saw Erik enter the room. He too, was dressed in fine clothing, his black hair nearly grey and his body much smaller and less muscular than Christine remembered it to be. Of course, he had an identical white half mask on the right side of his face, to match his son's. He walked slowly over to the piano, leaning against it as Christophe pulled out the piano bench and sat down beginning to play.
Christine felt the tears running down her cheeks as she recognized the tune Christophe played. It was "Think of Me" with much more complicated accompaniment, played far beyond the skills of any normal ten year old. He was a master at the piano, and when he began singing, Christine felt like angels had descended from heaven. If such a thing were possible, he was far more gifted musically than she or Erik ever were.
She wished her boy could have gone on playing forever, but he eventually did stop. He looked up at his father, waiting for a criticism. Erik nodded, affectionately placing his hand on Christophe's shoulder
"Well done. You have finally mastered it completely. Bravo"
"Thank you father" he replied humbly, and Christine could see the boy was honored by such a small bit of praise. She knew Erik rarely gave compliments.
"Now" Erik said, clearing his throat "Shall we practice the Mozart concerto I gave you? Your academy performance is less than a month away"
"I know father. I've been practicing all week" he said, rolling his eyes
Erik chuckled, putting his arm around his son "That's my boy"
"Father" Christophe said seriously, looking at a small portrait on the piano "Do you think mother would have been pleased?"
He sighed "I'm sure she would be, son. I'm sure she would be."
Erik turned and suddenly looked straight at Christine. His lip turned up in the briefest hint of a smile before turning back to his son at the piano and correcting his fingering. Christine sighed as she listened to Christophe's fine playing. She was very proud of him. She took one last look at her beautiful young boy before turning and going back to the cab. Some things, she decided were just better left alone.