Author's Note: This is my first attempt to indulge in writing phanfiction. A Leroux AU where Christine refuses to run away with Raoul just because she is too scared of Erik. Please read and review.
P. S. The first two lines are taken straight from the novel's translation. Christine's answer is different, however.
P. P. S. This may result in a multi-chapter, but I'm not promising anything.
Update from 28th of July: The chapter has been updated. Please re-read. I express my infinite gratitude towards my, dare I say, friends, Tori and Redd, for revising and editing my chapter.
Forevermore, Chapter 1
She wrung her hands in anguish, while Raoul pressed her to his heart.
"No, no, you shall never again hear him tell you that he loves you! You shall not see his tears! Let us fly, Christine, let us fly at once!"
"Oh, I wish so much that I could just run away with you! But I can't! He won't let me go and he will find us anywhere, Raoul. I loathe the thought of living the rest of my life in fear..."
Christine stood in front of the mirror in her dressing room as it slid open. Erik was standing behind it, his posture stoic and rigid as usually, albeit his crookedness was partially concealed by the heavy thick cloak that hung on his thin shoulders. His dress was as impeccable as always, even more so than ordinarily. Of course, he would take utmost care in how he would present himself to her at this moment. This was a very special occasion, after all.
He did not dare offer his gloved hand to her, remembering, how she recoiled from his touch before. He could not blame her: she would do good to keep her skin clean from the touch of the death's hands, the hands of a murderer. So she stepped in the damp secret passageway on her own and directed her gaze to the distance as if trying to look at anything…. anything but HIM.
He could not blame her for that, either. Still, he could not keep his emotions at bay, nevermind that at some point in his life he had been specifically trained for that. Extremely scorching and enlivening at the same time, strong feelings were swirling and boiling in his soul, going up from his chest to his head, putting his mind in a sudden daze. And he felt true triumph as he saw her follow him, as they descended the endless staircase that led into the cellars, the abyss he called his "home".
In the middle of the descent, however, he could not help but notice the stiff silence that wrapped itself around them. He stopped and turned around, still holding the lantern high above his head, his gold glowing eyes cast upward to look upon her face.
He then noticed her slightly furrowed brows, her concerned and distracted look. He jerked a few stairs up, walking up to her and looking her in the eyes, trying to see the reason behind her obvious distress. "Christine, what's wrong? Tell me, you..."
She shrunk away, her eyes darted from him for a second, then she turned around to look into the darkness that they passed a minute ago, that hid the way to her dressing room. And suddenly realization shot through him.
Of course. She has been acting like this since yesterday, since her knight in shining armour, the Viscount, had last met her and told her about his leaving for the North Pole. Despite the fact that the decision to stay was her decision entirely, and the Viscount's proposal to run away had been successfully rejected, her fear and repulsion could be seen in her rigid stature, her nervous eyes, her folded arms which trembled still. Once again the strand of happiness he held evaporated from his soul, and his troubled gaze turned cold and distant with rage, as he leaned away from Christine, once again lifting the lantern up high.
"Ah, I see. It is that boy, right? De Chagny... He left without you."
Christine did not even try to deny it. "Yes..." After a moment of still uncomfortable silence, she brought a hand to her mouth, partially concealing her face in a defensive manner. "Yes, and I am afraid."
Erik's eyes went wide and he chuckled at her irrationality.
"Afraid? What in the world are you afraid of?"
She took a second to answer, carefully choosing her words.
"...Of what is to come."
"...Of what is to come? Christine, are you afraid of living with your Erik in these cellars?" He made a wide, dramatic move with his free arm as if gesturing towards the vaults in general. "There are no monsters in these catacombs, Christine, except for one, who is standing right in front of you." And he slammed his fist on his chest, pointing towards himself, emphasizing his own self-loathing words. "And even if there were monsters down here, YOUR monster would protect you from them!"
The whites of her eyes went large, her blue irises all the more expressive of her fear, as if not believing what he said. He interpreted it just as that, lifting his head and adjusting his top-hat.
"Yes, my dear, Erik has an unfathomable amount of knowledge with various weaponry. You haven't seen him in combat," he added with a little hint of pride and perhaps smugness of his capabilities.
She jerked back all the more frightened, realizing that she did not WANT to see him 'in combat' under any circumstances. "Erik, I believe you, but, please, call yourself a monster no more," she said hastily.
He slouched even further, tilting his head and looking pointedly at her with squinted eyes that seemed to glow like the lantern he held in the darkness. "Oh, but your Erik is one, my dear. You cannot deny that. He himself does not deny it."
She decided to not argue further. She knew she would not be able to sway him to do otherwise. Of course, she too at one point thought him a monster, but it would be much easier to continue following him if they both pretended that it was a man who stood in front of her and led her to her future grave. So she rubbed the tip of her nose with a pale-pink, accurately trimmed nail and folded her arms in front of her once again, re-directing her gaze somewhere in the dark corner, as if searching for something. At last, after several seconds of uncomfortable silence, she spoke up.
"...Y-you say you would protect me from them." Her eyes went up from the stony, mossy wall to his masked face. She furrowed her brows in determination and spat out: "But who is going to protect me from...from YOU?"
Erik stumbled a few stairs lower as if struck in the chest by a powerful blow. His torso bent back, his eyes went wide once again, and his breathing became shallow and erratic.
"...M-me? Christine, do you feel like you need protection f-from... Erik?" He was hurt, he did not want to believe that she actually MEANT what she just said. He slouched forward, spreading his palm with spidery fingers across his chest and emitted a hoarse, ragged breath, trying to regain his composure. "Hah! Christine, Erik would never harm you. Christine must know that. I... Erik would not dare touch you, Christine, if you don't want him to."
As if to add weight to his words, he shifted further from her as if he were a contagious disease, his lantern once again hanging low at his side.
Christine could not stand seeing him like this, knowing her words hurt him so. Stretching her arms out, as if wanting to soothe or comfort him, she descended a few stairs towards him, but he jerked even further away from her, with his head now bent and tilted, as if he were ashamed, hiding his eyes from her. Her fragile heart felt as though it had begun to crumble at such a sight. Poor, unhappy Erik.
Christine found her voice "No, it's not that... I know that you are a genius. But Erik... That just makes you all the more unpredictable."
His eyes momentarily went up to her, but she did not falter, the words leaving her mouth faster and faster. "I cannot tell what you're going to do in the next second, what you're thinking, why are you doing anything of what you are doing, why are you like this, I..."
She shifted, hugging herself and averting her gaze to something else. Just anything to avoid looking upon his eyes. "...I don't know you. I can't even see the reason behind your actions, what motivates you."
Something shifted in his gaze, and he tilted his head in a curious manner, squinting his eyes.
"...And that is what you are afraid of?"
Her brow furrowed even further. His reaction was not at all what she expected. And that is precisely what she was talking about. It scared her.
"Yes."
He crept up a few stairs, moving like a true predator, once again lifting up his lantern. His eyes bore into her, and something shifted in his voice; it sounded deeper, and smooth like velvet, but with an underlying hint of mockery as if he was teasing her.
"You are scared... Of what I might think or do?"
"...Yes."
Unseen behind his mask, a smile could be heard in his now amused voice. "Oh, but my dear Christine, your Erik's unpredictability helps him to escape difficult situations."
He continued with the same mocking amusement present in his speech, seeing her agape expression. "Yes, my dear. For you see, back when Erik was in Persia, he was sentenced to death."
She was shocked by the nonchalance with which he spoke of such atrocities. However, she managed to ask: "Why?"
"Isn't it obvious?" He snorted as if it were clear as day. "I knew too much. At any rate, the reason does not matter. One does not NEED a reason to lose his head in that hell of a country, much less in the Shah's palace. They tied me up and put me behind bars. And do you know how I escaped?"
She continued to stare, not even realizing it. "...No?"
"I sang."
Christine's brows shot up and she tilted her head. "What?"
Erik rolled his eyes. "I sang. Do you not have ears, girl? Christine, Erik thought you had no problems with hearing."
She emitted a nervous laugh, perhaps worried, what he would do, if she didn't actually have ears. "Oh, stop. So, you sang?" She asked in an amused tone for his benefit.
Without straightening his back, he lifted his chin and adjusted his snow-white bowtie. He was ready to experience embarrassment, if it would lighten up his beloved's mood.
"...Yes. I sang. And thus I became acquainted with one very curious chief of Persian police, who aided me out of prison."
A smile that reigned on her face slowly vanished, as she lost herself in her thoughts and theories. "...Very unpredictable."
He shrugged once again with forced nonchalance. "I told you. My whole life has been like this."
She raised one brow. "What, escaping jails?"
His eyes widened, afraid that he had said too much. He hurried to disapprove her thoughts. "No. I meant, it has been full of such peculiar situations." He gestured towards her, silently telling her to follow him. They began going down once more, but their conversation did not cease. "Because I am a 'genius', as you said, I have always been able to find solutions to my problems. Erik's brain is a mysterious place that even he is sometimes afraid of."
He had chosen to ignore the elephant in the room earlier, but decided to address it now. He did not want to talk any more of his past, anyway. "But enough about me. What about that boy?"
Her voice rang with caution. "What about Raoul?"
He proceeded with forced negligence. "Tell me. What are your feelings towards him?"
She opened her mouth in her readiness to protest.
"I won't judge," he added with hurry. "Erik just believes that he has the right to know. How did you two become acquainted?" He asked, wanting to avert her attention to a less private topic.
She thought that no harm would come from telling Erik her and Raoul's backstory. She looked up, summoning the memories from the back of her mind. "Well, it was a very long time ago," she told, her voice musing.
By that time the air around them had become cold and damp, and Christine could tell they had a little more time to go until they reached the underground lake.
Hidden anger and understanding mixed in his voice as he spoke. "Mmm, I see, so he is a childhood friend of yours?"
She sensed it but answered nonetheless. "Yes, you could say that."
Finally, vast, dark waters of the underground lake appeared before them. It had suddenly turned quite freezing there, and little clouds of water vapour escaped Christine's nostrils and mouth as she breathed. She looked around and wrapped her arms around herself in a vain attempt to keep the warmth. Erik did not seem to notice that, however: he was more interested in preparing the boat for their departure.
"So, tell Erik, how did a young Viscount meet the little daughter of a travelling violinist?" he asked with unfeigned interest, hanging the lantern on the boat's end and bending to untie the rope that kept the boat from straying off the little dock.
She could think of nothing more but resuming talking. Oh, Raoul, her dear Raoul. She already missed his presence, recounting the days of their youth. Ah, sweet memories...
"Father and I settled in Pierro-Guirec for the summer. I was standing on a cliff, and suddenly a gust of wind blew my scarf off of my head and carried it to the ocean. I screamed out of fear and surprise. Raoul was passing by with his governess, and he heard me crying. He ran into the ocean and swam through the harsh waves and rescued my scarf. Then, absolutely soaked to the skin in sea water, he brought it back to me, wet and shivering, but smiling widely. 'Here is your scarf, Mademoiselle!' he said... We were inseparable since then. Raoul and I..."
Her voice was musing; a dreamy smile spread across her features; she even forgot about the cold, lost in good memories. To her she felt as though she were not five cellars underground, but once again back out on that shoreside in Pierro-Guirec with her childhood sweetheart. Erik listened stiffly, soaking up information.
"We spent that whole summer together, playing hide-and-seek in the cliffs, throwing sand as we chased each other, building sand castles - his were always better, no matter how much he denied it - searching for seashells, splashing in the waves... I thought... That maybe I was..."
Silence fell between them. He knew exactly what she was going to say. That maybe she was in love with that boy. He had already finished the necessary preparations with the boat, but he did not stand up, finding himself unable to move, only to listen and think. He felt fortunate he had decided to wear gloves, or else how unnaturally white - even more so than usual - his clenched hands had become might have scared the poor girl.
She continued, not noticing the sudden stiffness in her companion's figure.
"Hah, I could not even fathom the concept of love then, neither of us could. We were only children. It was a very romantic, a very naive and childish talk of things we both did not understand. I couldn't comprehend my own feelings towards him back then. I liked him, of course I did, but I felt like there was something more than that... I thought it was love."
Erik listened, still not standing up, but slowly turning his head to the side, looking at Christine with the corner of his right eye. Her face darkened, and he knew that they were approaching the end of the story.
"But we parted. The summer came and went, and father and I were forced to move on. And on that day, after the gala, when he finally spoke to me again, I recognized him immediately. How could I forget him? My heart raced - I knew it was him, Raoul, who saved my scarf all those years ago. I was afraid that you would hurt one of the very few people dear to me, when he introduced himself that night... So I pretended that I didn't know him and brushed him off. I did so because of you. You, of course, immediately saw through that façade."
He shrugged, trying to not reveal the agony and pain that he was going through by his voice or stature. "Yes, it was quite obvious."
She was ignorant of his inner turmoil. "That was exactly my point. You know, you are unpredictable, but I... seem to be very."
She shrugged then, unconsciously imitating Erik's movements. He noticed that, however, musing for a moment what that could mean. But he brushed off the thought, stood up and went to her side, finally acknowledging the fact that it was freezing in this dungeon, and his lady was in an evening dress.
He took off his cloak and went behind Christine, offering her the warmth of his clothing. She nodded hesitantly, and he gingerly hung the cloak on her shoulders.
"It's not that you are predictable, Christine." He fastened the clasp on her neck, taking care not to brush her skin with his cold fingers, and left her side. He noticed how her shoulders shook and trembled. He shrugged it off; after all, it was freezing here, in the dungeons...
He gestured towards the boat, inviting her to climb in. She quietly obeyed, as he continued speaking. "I have always been able to easily read people and predict their next moves. It saved my life more than once."
He climbed in after her, taking the pole and making the first move, pushing the boat a few feet away from the dock in one powerful strike. She realized that she never actually saw him rowing: the only other time she was on this boat she was half-unconscious, and the whole trip was absent from her memories.
So now she watched him with something that resembled admiration, as he manipulated the pole with trained precision, expertly guiding the boat throughout the darkness of the cavern.
He did not care to maintain the enchanted silence, however, continuing expressing his thoughts.
"You could say I have a... special talent for that."
She blinked, as if broken free from a spell, and asked with a hint of disbelief and fascination: "How many talents do you have?"
Not ceasing rowing for a second, he shrugged in a complacent manner, a movement which only emphasized just how gaunt his figure was.
"You know... Nobody has ever counted them yet," he said, throwing her a smug look across his shoulder.
Something clicked inside her and a grin showed on her face; her sudden light and sonorous laughter flew across the waters of the lake, reflecting from the walls of the vast vaults and returning with echoes.
She pressed her hand to her mouth as if trying to contain the laughter, but the sounds still escaped her throat, and her eyes glimmered with amusement.
He stared at her with wide eyes, enchanted and musing, what had she found so funny. Thinking it not important, and revelling with the fact that she actually laughed in his presence, he thought it a significant progress and smiled under the mask. Her girlish giggles caused warmth to spread through his chest. If anyone were to hear an angel's laugh, it would sound just as the sound that he was hearing now.
"Yes, Christine, you laugh!" He turned his back to her once more, resuming rowing. "Oh, this sound is more savoury and prepossessing to your Erik's ears than any music he has ever heard or written! My dear, this is going to be just splendid! Only you and your Erik, and endless music."
He did not notice that her laughter had ceased in the middle of his first sentence. The impact of his words, she and Erik. It made her heart sink. She suddenly did not want to laugh anymore.
"God is a cruel being, of course, but, indeed, there is some good in the world if He allowed Erik to know happiness. A whole lifetime of rejection and pain was worth it if it meant that, in the end, Erik would meet you!.."
He dragged on with his monologue, slowing down the boat and reaching forward to grab the rope on the bank and bind the boat.
"And only to think... you agreed to stay! With Erik! Erik is sorry, my dear, but he is still having a hard time believing it and grasping the fact that this all might be real, not another dream that would turn into a nightmare after a moment of bliss..."
He, hardly aware of what he was doing, put the pole down, picked up the lantern, nearly jumped on the bank with a boyish enthusiasm and offered his hand to her to help her out of the boat. She accepted the hand, not listening to him, lost in her own thoughts. Lost thinking about what she was now leaving behind.
Still speaking, he led her to the drawing room, the room which doors faced the lake and left her side to snuff out the lantern and put it on the nearest table.
"Christine, Erik hasn't felt this good in DECADES, Christine, YOU gave him that feeling of belonging and... and happiness!" he spoke, lighting the gas lamps across the room. Finally, he turned to face her, bending backwards with his arms stretched outward. "Yes, Christine, Erik can say that he may finally be happy at last!"
Then he, once again, noticed her saddened expression. He bent forward, slouching in his usual manner and gingerly approached her. Why was she unhappy? Erik had promised on his life that no harm would come to Christine. Erik would give her anything and everything she ever wanted.
So why was she crying?
He noticed a single teardrop form in her eye, which she hastily wiped away. She however couldn't hide the tiny hiccup that escaped her throat as another fresh tear that she was not quick enough to catch fell freely down her porcelain cheek.
His heart fell. What had he done wrong? However, before he could say anything, before his brain managed to form a comprehensible thought, she spoke in a distorted voice: "You are happy. Alright. What about me?
"...You are..." he began, slightly gesturing towards her. Finally, he emitted a high-pitched, broken sigh.
"O-oh."
They both stood in silence for a minute or so, before Erik hugged himself and spoke with hesitation.
"You... you are unhappy."
She nodded; tears kept running.
"...Tell me what you want. Tell me, what can I do to make you happy, Christine? I can give you anything you want. Please. Oh, my dear, please don't cry. You know how much it hurts Erik to see you cry."
He looked at her with eyes, full of hope. She answered almost immediately. She knew exactly what she wanted.
"Freedom. I want freedom."
He snapped, tilting his head, squinting his eyes, aggression showing in his normally velvet voice.
"Freedom, freedom," he repeated mockingly. "What is freedom to you?"
"An ability to make choices, to wander free. Here I feel like I am trapped. Like a... a songbird with clipped wings! You are going to keep me here forever, aren't you? Will I even see the light of day ever again? I am doomed to live forever in these damp catacombs!" she said with vigor.
"You… you doomed YOURSELF, Christine Daaé!" He spat out with unrestrained anger. No longer did he hold a giddy stride or heartfelt reflection of happiness. "The moment you tore off this mask was the moment you condemned yourself to a whole lifetime of THIS before your eyes!" His hands flailed wildly, furiously gesturing towards himself and towards Christine.
She just shook her head and hid her face in her hands, crying with full force. Christine had no fight left in her to hide her sorrow. She knew he was right. It was all her fault. And now, she was to live her life with a monster.
Something broke in him, however, the moment he saw her weeping. His angel, this innocent girl crumpled in on herself with tears. Her cries seemed to bounce off the very walls, creating a sorrowful symphony.
The angels were weeping. But not weeping tears of joy.
Erik realized that HE had done this to her, and he would never be happy unless he did something about it. The songbird should be allowed her wings to fly free.
All the rigidity vanished from his stature, and his hands hung helplessly at his sides.
"...I am sorry, Christine. I am sorry, please, forgive me."
She was still crying, barely listening. All she thought about now was how trapped she was, never again to see her freedom, her friends… or her dear Raoul again.
Erik needed to do more than just apologizing, his words clearly fell on deaf ears as Christine continued to cry. He inhaled deeply, closed his eyes and approached her, straightening his back.
"Christine... listen, please. I beg you, listen to me."
Tears did not stop, however, as she uncovered her face and looked up at him. He looked down at her with immense sadness in his eyes and dared raise his hand to gingerly brush an astray curl from her ivory forehead. Her eyes red rimmed from floods of tears, still damp and running down her cheeks. He inhaled once again.
"Christine. Listen. If you do not wish to stay, then… Then I can take you back? If you wish, I can take you back. Erik cannot bear seeing you like this. I beg you, Erik will beg you on hands and knees. Please do not cry anymore." His breathing became ragged. "If you say Erik needs to let you go for you to be happy, then… Then so be it. You…" He breathed in sharply. "Christine could catch a cab… that boy's ship likely has not left yet…"
He exhaled hoarsely and retreated from her, falling into a velvet armchair and covering his eyes with his pale hand. Now HE was crying. Or, at least, actively trying NOT to. But better he cry for eternity than to see his angel weep for another moment.
"Just… just go, if you really want. Leave me here, forget me, just go..."
A deafening silence was the response to his revelation.
"God, Christine, just ANSWER already!"
He tore his hand off of his masked face and looked up at her, clutching the armrests' ends.
She stood in the centre of the room, where he left her, looking at him with wide, tear-stained eyes. She appeared to be in shock.
"Erik, whatever caused you to believe that I wanted to go with Raoul? You perfectly know that I myself rejected his offer."
"Do not mock me now or think me naive, child," he pleadingly said. "I am aware that you made such a choice because you were afraid of my haunting you two your entire lives. You said so yourself, yes, you knew your Erik was listening. Which it would be true, if it were that way."
She clenched her teeth at his biting remark. So he spied on her, even though he promised her not to do so. Sudden anger shot through her.
"You stalked me? You promised you wouldn't do that, Erik!"
"Promises are for fools, my dear," he said, waving his hand with dramatic disgust. "I have been taught not to trust ANYONE more times than you could imagine, and I still seem to not be able to finally learn this lesson," he told her accusingly, gesturing with his voice towards the events that transpired in the house on the lake when Christine was here the last time. "And I cannot even trust you, as I saw it in your eyes. You wanted to run away with him. You promised you would not speak to the Viscount again. But you did, at the masked ball you did!"
"Erik, I have already said that I am sorry for what has happened the last time I have been here. I do not know what has come over me. I shouldn't have done it, I shouldn't have touched your mask, just as you had told me. I would have never betrayed your trust like that if I had known what the consequences would be."
"You have betrayed it multiple times on your own accord," he said gravely. "But Erik does not blame you, Christine, no, not at all. Erik understands why you have done it. But we are straying from the topic, my dear," he added forcedly. "Will you leave or not?"
Her shocked expression returned. Has he just literally offered to take her back to the surface? She tilted her head with curiosity and furrowed her brows - a sign of disbelief. Of course, she thought, there is something wrong here. He wouldn't just let her go, no, never.
He would never let her go.
So there was no sense in trying to run away. Even if they both thought that it would be better that way. Wherever she went, whatever she did, he would find her and taunt and torture her.
A new portion of tears formed in her eyes, and she hid her face in her palms once again. The songbird would be forever entrapped and captive to a golden cage, fated to live the life of a mistress of the Death himself, imprisoned forevermore.
She frantically shook her head, and he needed no more answer than that. He stood up and passed her, gesturing towards the narrow hallway, inviting her to follow.
He led Christine to the now familiar Louis-Philippe room and closed the door after she entered. He leaned on the door and took off his mask with trembling fingers.
He frowned, looking at the inner side of his mask, holding the item in his hands.
This arrangement would prove itself to be more strenuous and excruciating than he expected.
