Chapter Two: Down we Plunge


"Father?" Erik gasped, mismatched eyes wide. "But he's… You said…"

"Sputter truly doesn't become you, Erik," Madame Giry said blandly.

Christine found herself giggling at this. "Papa… this is Erik. My husband."

It was Gustave's turn to go wide-eyed. "Husband?"

The secret door behind the stage was flung open and Raoul de Chagny came stumbling out. His eyes narrowed when he caught sight of Erik. "Next time you tell me of one of your passageways, I will demand to know how to work the exit!" The Vicomte paused, eyes turning wide. "Monsieur… Daaè?"

"I do believe that I am getting that reaction quite a bit today," Gustave chuckled. "Raoul, how you've grown!"

"Perhaps you'd care to explain," Erik drawled, "just how you came to be 'dead' and then 'alive' once more?"

"If you are asking if I am a ghost then I can assure you not."

"Then what are you, prey tell?" the Phantom demanded.

"Erik! Please… Don't be rude!" his wife said, horrified.

"A simple question, my dear. I hardly see how someone is truly dead – you and I have both seen the grave – and then alive yet again. Hardly less than a work of God, I'd say."

"You may drop the sarcastic tone, Monsieur," Gustave said with a sigh. "I… would rather not go into the whole affair here and now."

"I'm sure you would not."

"Erik! That was uncalled for!" Christine hissed. "Papa, forgive him. I truly don't know what has gotten into him." She shot a glare in her husband's direction. "This is my father standing before us. My father in which I have long thought dead. I really don't care what the explanation is, just as long as it is. Please try to keep your sarcastic tongue in check."

Erik stared during her outburst and could find no breath to force the protest from his lips as she looped her arm through her father's and they walked to a pair of seats to discuss matters of this and that. He simply watched them walk away, dumbfounded at her words.

"Lovely job of it," Raoul said from his side. "I daresay that few people can rile Christine up quite like that."

"Shut up," the Phantom hissed.

The Vicomte's jovial smile straightened into a thin line. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for, wasn't it, even in fun." He turned completely serious, mulling over the situation. "It is odd that Monsieur Daaè would leave his daughter to the opera house and lead her to believe he had died. Then, suddenly, reappear."

"It's more than odd," Erik murmured. "It's…" He sighed, not finding the words he needed to describe it. He glanced out of the corner of his eye to see Madame Giry moving away from the personal scene. He turned back to Raoul. "Is that really her father?"

"I've never seen an other man with his likeness," Raoul admitted softly. "But, I know that he died. I saw Christine the next morning, right before she left for the opera house. I saw the dead body, for heaven's sake, but… I was young. We were only seven, and if her father had meant for us to believe him dead, for any case, he was a decent actor."

"Yes…" he breathed, then turned to leave.

"Where are you going?"

"Home. Since I am obviously not needed here," the Phantom snapped, motioning to where his young wife and her father sat chattering.


"Now tell me about Erik," Gustave said.

Christine's blue eyes moved to where her husband had been standing. She felt a sadness tug on her heart when she did not see him. "I… Erik is my truest love. I'd really rather not go into how we met. It was rather unconventional, to say the least."

"He looks twice your age."

"A little more," the young diva admitted. "He's… fifty-two now, I believe." A smile crossed her lips and her eyes fluttered closed. "It doesn't matter how old he is or how young I am. It was destined." Her eyes opened a little. "He's my Angel of Music, Papa."

"Why does he wear a mask, my dear?"

Christine froze. "I… I really shouldn't tell you. It's not my place."

"As his wife, it is not your place?"

"You couldn't understand. I don't… sometimes. But I love him despite it. Everyone wears masks of some kind, don't they? His is just… visible. Have you a place to stay?"

"No, but I'll rent an inn room for tonight."

"Nonsense!" Christine gasped. "You should stay with Erik and me."

"I shouldn't want to put you out."

"You wouldn't be," his daughter insistant. "We have an extra room. Oh, you'll love it, Papa!" She hushed her voice. "But you must promise not to speak of our home."

Gustave knit his eyebrows in confusion.

"It's… difficult to explain. Erik likes his privacy, I suppose, is the best way. Come with me. Where are your bags? We'll take them down now."

"Down?"

"Erik is an architect. He helped design and build this place." She motioned to the opera house with on wide sweep of her thin hand. "He built his home below it."

Gustave looked horrified for a moment. "Below an opera house? Like a tomb?"

"No," his daughter whispered. "I thought so at first, but if given the chance it can be the warmest place you've ever seen. It is our home."

"Who… is your husband, Christine?"

"You must promise to get to know him before I answer that. You should make up your own mind. You'll find Erik is a good man. He's had a hard life, to say the least, but he's a good man. I love him, Papa."

Gustave nodded as his daughter stood. They gathered his bags together and began down the hallways.


The sound of the pipe organ was the first thing Christine heard as she entered the underground home. She motioned for her father to stay in the first room as she moved to where the music emanated from. She found Erik sitting with his fingers dancing their waltz across the keys. He was lost in it.

Christine inched forward and found her hands on his broad shoulders. He leaned back into her touch, falling against her. The music ended as her fingers moved along his shoulders, finding the knots there and working them out through his thin white shirt. "Erik," she breathed into his ear.

"Hmm?"

"If I tell you something, do you promise not be angry?" He mumbled an answer that she didn't grasp, so she took it for a yes and continued. "Papa had no place to stay." Her fingers moved up to his neck, massaging the tension from it. He gave no reaction to her words, but leaned even more into her touch, longing for it. Her right hand around so that it caressed his mask and across his face to cradle his left cheek. "So I asked him to stay here."

Erik pulled away as quickly as he had the day she'd ripped the mask from his face. "You what?" he bellowed.

"Hush! Papa is in the other room!"

"You brought him here… You…" He stopped, stood, and began to pace the room, attempting with all of his might not to release his temper on her. It was the last thing he wished to do. She was his beautiful, innocent, perfect Christine. She could do no wrong. Whatever she had done, he had provoked, but how could she have? It was utter betrayal! She'd asked before bringing Little Giry or the Vicomte down. She'd asked! Erik had no problem with it if he had forewarning and a say in it.

"Erik…" his wife pleaded, reaching a hand to him.

"Don't," he hissed, eyes wild. "Don't touch me right now, Christine."

She jerked back as if she'd been struck. He'd never denied her touch. Never. Where she should have felt sadness beyond anything else, she felt anger. "Stop it. He is my father, Erik! Whom I thought had been dead for years! You couldn't begin to understand the joy I've felt within the past couple of hours! How could you? You who had no one to love you as he loved me!" She watched as all colour drained from his face and she brought a hand to her mouth. "Oh Erik… I'm sorry. That was horrible."

"Yes," he managed, turning his back to her. "Yes it was. He may stay. He already knows the way down here now. Show him to wherever you wish, except here."

Christine nodded wordlessly.

"Now get out. Close the door behind you."

She did so with silent tears streaming down her face. The sound of the organ playing reached all corners of the house and it reminded her of his long –burned Don Juan Triumphant. At that moment she knew she'd pushed them into a plunge that neither of them had been ready for.


A/N: Okay, once again, been watching my DVD (constantly, mind you, lol!) and has anyone but me noticed that when Raoul and Christine are in the chapel together, she's begging him not to make her do what she's about to do and he says "Don't think that I don't care, but every hope lies with you now," or something very close to that. Does anyone else see the MAJOR guilt-trip there? It's like "yeah, darling, I know you don't want to do this but I'm going to make you feel so guilty that you WILL do it" :shakes head: One more reason to love Erik… :adds it to her exceedingly long list:

Jedi of Imladris: I was hoping this would be original. It's one thing I strive for. I mean, there are only so many story lines out there, ne? Hence the reason Hollywood has so many remakes coming out lol!

Migrating Coconuts 06: Sorry! Answers will come soon!

Lost S: I'm going to try to update once a day until then, and then maybe bring a pad of paper to jot down ideas and such with me. I'm going to simply die not being able to write on my computer! An entire WEEK! Hopefully I won't get eaten by a shark and hopefully I will get whisked away by a masked composer… Hmm… :falls back to her own little world:

TerpintineMind: Hehe… polite… Such a fun term with these two. This is the fourth in my series. "Ghosts of the Past", "My Darkest Hour", "Mother's Love", and then this one. In GotP Christine comes back to Erik (after a year) and Raoul and Meg are hinted at in a relationship. It's full blown by MDH. Sorry to confuse you!

I Despise Raoul: Hehe… Have you ever read your ending of "I remain your obedient reviewer, I despise Raoul" out loud in a perfectly serious voice? It's very entertaining. Yeah… maybe not. Lol! I'm glad you got your CD! The movie version or the London cast? I have the highlights from the London cast b/c I can't afford the full blown London one. :melts at the sound of Michael Crawford's voice: That man can literally make me cry with his voice! It's too beautiful…

AliciaRoseM: Haha:hands you an Erik plushy: I really need one of those. Though I fear my roommate for next year would look at me oddly when I showed up with one.

Clever Lass:shrugs: You'll have to wait and see who this man is. Perhaps, just perhaps, it's really Christine's father? I'm glad you like the idea. It struck me rather hard upside the head the other day and began screaming at me to be written. I really should get that checked out… hehe

Potostfbeyeluvr: Both! They're a lovely combination! What does your name mean? It confuses me greatly….