A/N: WOW. I'm sorry. I haven't updated in almost a year! I am so sorry! I got a new computer and this story was on my old computer and I hadn't checked my old computer until recently and then I saw what little I had written of the next chapter and decided to finish it! Also I did get out of my POTO obsession for a little while but now I'm getting back into it so I've actually had inspiration. Anyway. I hope you like this chapter and I know I don't deserve it but review please!
Erik looked over his shoulder to where Christine was following close behind him. After Christine had asked him to take her with him, he took one look at her beautiful, pleading face and couldn't say no. He didn't say a word only motioned for her to come along with his head. He led her through a secret door on the roof that only he knew about and through the secret passageways.
He heard the Vicomte's voice reach the roof and call for Christine and he looked back at Christine to see if she had changed her mind. But she didn't look back nor have any signs of regret on her face. She caught him looking at her and a small smile slowly spread across her face. He made no response only turned forward again.
He couldn't believe it Christine was actually with him, she actually asked to go with him, and she smiled at him. She smiled at him. And it wasn't a fake smile either, it was one he had seen her give the Vicomte or Meg. One that she gave to those she loved.
Could she possibly…?
No. He couldn't let himself hope. He had done it so much in the past and then was disappointed in the end. He couldn't take another heart break. So the solution was to not make of anything of it. He couldn't get hurt that way.
Christine followed close behind her masked angel as he led her off the roof through a secret doorway. The pathway was dark, the only thing that was leading her was the white of his mask.
He was quiet so she was quiet. He was always the one to initiate the conversation and if he didn't want to talk than he wouldn't. And knowing his temper, she didn't want to upset him by talking to him. Not that she had much to say anyway.
Soon they had reached a more illuminated hallway. One she almost recognized, like she had seen it in a dream. The candelabras on the wall were burning and dimly lit the dark room. She could now see the whole outline of him and the other side of his face.
It was stony and cold. Almost like he was trying to block out some emotions. It was so unlike the first time she walked down this hallway with him. He constantly turned to look back at her and there was such intense emotion in his eyes. She was mesmerized by it; by him. It felt like a dream.
But this time was so very real. She was fully aware of what was going on around her.
Once, he turned to look over his shoulder at her and she offered him a smile. She had to show him she was not scared of him after all even though a part of her was. He was very intimidating. Not at all like Raoul. But there was something about him that Raoul didn't have. Mystery. When she was with Raoul her heart didn't beat so fast. Her angel, "The Phantom", was so dark, so brooding. Where as Raoul brought light every where he went. But Raoul didn't have passion where as he did. Raoul was so much like he was when they were children, playful and loving. He wasn't like The Phantom where in every word he spoke, every note he sang to her, she could feel the passion, feel how much he cared for her.
She saw a flicker of emotion pass his face as he turned to face forward again but it was gone as soon as it appeared. It was so fast she couldn't decide what the emotion had been. She couldn't even begin to think about what he might be thinking. He was so quiet, it made her a little nervous.
She continued to follow him down the passageways. It was longer than she remembered. Another thing that she didn't remember was that the hallways were very damp and cold. As cold as the weather outside was.
He probably didn't notice, she concluded. He had lived down there for so long and he was dressed rather warmly as well. But her light dress and light coat did not protect her from the cold.
She looked down at her hands that were closed tightly around the rose. They were pale white and cold. She brought her hands closer to her body to try and get them warmer.
They came to a spiraled staircase that appeared never ending. She swallowed softly and bravely lowered herself onto the first step. But it was loose and she felt her body start to wobble. She gasped and reached out for something to grab on to. She hadn't realized what it was until she felt it tense under her grip. She looked up and saw that she had her arms tightly wound around his upper arm. She could feel the thick muscles and the heat that radiated from him felt wonderful against her cold body. She slowly and bravely looked up to his face and saw that he was looking down at her. His face was emotionless but his eyes were not. She found herself getting lost in his eyes, they were comforting. Something she hadn't expected from him. She felt her heart pounding in her chest. She knew she should be scared. The last time she touched him he got incredibly angry. But he didn't look angry now.
She eventually let go of his arm and whispered an apology turning her gaze to the floor. She looked up at him through her eye lashes. He didn't answer her, only narrowed his eyes slightly for a quick second and then turned back around.
She brought her arms back around her chest. Maybe he was angry…
He started walking again and she followed him. They went flight after silent flight. She didn't focus on him but instead on the floor.
Her head snapped up and her eyes widened when he suddenly swung out his arm in front of her, holding her back. What had she done to upset him?
"Careful of this step." His deep voice broke through the silence. She cast a curious glance up at him. His hand moved out from under his cloak, palm up, inviting her to take it. She slipped her hand into his gloved hand and let him guide her over the step.
Once both her feet were safely planted, he released her hand and she instantly missed the contact. She cast a glance over at the step he didn't want her to step on. She didn't see anything wrong with it.
A dark chuckle filled the air and she turned back to look at him. A small smirk played across his lips.
"It's a trap door." He explained.
Her eyes widened slightly. "A trap door?" She repeated in a near whisper.
He nodded once. "Yes. Many people have tried to find me over the years. I could not let them succeed."
Her eyes slowly drifted back to the step. She imagined stage hands and members of the ballet wandering down this dark staircase and suddenly having the floor disappear from under them as they fell helplessly to their demise. She shuddered quietly.
"Come. Let us continue." His voice was cold again and he quickly whirled around and started forward again.
The area suddenly seemed so much more quiet. She could hear his shoes clicking against the stone with every quick step he took. She could hear her own pounding heart and her deep, even breathing.
When he started to fade into the darkness she realized she still hadn't moved from her spot. Her eyes widened slightly and she ran to catch up to him.
They soon arrived at the underground lake and just like before the gondola was waiting for them. He carefully stepped in and then helped her in.
She observed her surroundings as he pushed the small boat through the water. Everything seemed so different. Less bright and more creepy. He obviously wasn't expecting her.
She frowned when she realized how lonely he must be. He lived in the catacombs of the glorious Opera Populaire, constantly surrounded only by damp, gray, rock walls.
The portcullis was slowly rising by the time it came into view and her eyes fell upon his lair as they got closer and closer to the shore. It was exactly how she remembered it minus a few candelabras.
She felt and heard the gondola skid onto the shore and he stepped out. As he did so she suddenly had a flashback to the last time she was down there. She could remember his smooth, melodic voice charming her in song.
'...the music of the night...'
How she longed to hear his sweet voice again. But he was still deathly quiet. She watched him walk across the shore and up the small set of stairs where his organ rested.
Perhaps he would play her a song. She smiled, she liked the sound of that. She had only heard him play once before but his talent on the piano was just as great as his singing ability.
But to her disappointment he simply stopped in front of the organ, his back facing her with his hands folded behind his back.
She slowly rose to her feet and hesitated for a moment to step out of the boat. She stepped onto the shore and felt the pebbles crunching underneath her shoes.
She slowly started to walk forward and looked around. Among the red curtains hanging from the walls there were paintings and drawings all of her. She felt an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach. She hadn't recalled them from the last time she was down there. She remembered the life sized manikin that he kept of her, how could she forget that? As flattering as it was it was also a little unsettling. She admired him for being such a great artist but there was just too much of her. It was like she consumed his every thought, his every waking moment.
She stopped in front of one of the large candelabras in the center of the room. She reached out and brushed her fingertips against the cool metal. Each separate holder had its own design, she noticed. Had he made those too?
She dropped her arm to her side and continued to look around. Without him singing to her she could fully focus on the contents of the place in which he lived.
She noticed several model heads with several different masks on each one. There was a half faced black one, a full black one and a full white one. She extended her hand towards them but hesitated. She didn't want to upset him.
She threw a careful glance over her shoulder at him to see that he hadn't moved an inch. His eyes were solely focused on the wall in front of him.
With a spark of courage she gently brushed her hand against the full white one. The porcelain was cool and smooth under her fingertips. She traced her finger tips over the eye holes and the shape of the nose.
Her thoughts were instantly drawn to what was under the mask he wore. She had only seen it for a split second before he started to lash out in anger. The marred and scarred side of his face was surprising yes but not so frightening. Even though she had told Raoul differently. She had a sharp intake of breath and her hand flew to her chest. Oh how awful she was to say such things about him. She was frightened at that moment in time and she had been incredibly flustered with all the talk of the Phantom of The Opera. She felt a pang of regret and guilt when she realized that he had been on the roof and he had heard every word she had said about him. Oh no wonder he was so distant. He thought she despised him.
'Raoul, I've seen him can I ever forget that sight? Can I ever escape from that face so distorted, deformed it was hardly a face in the darkness...'
Oh how cruel she was.
She dropped her hand from the mask and turned around to face him. Again, he had not moved.
She bravely started forward up the steps and towards him. He was so still, if she hadn't know any better she would say he was a statue. But as she drew near she could see the slow rising and falling of his chest as he breathed.
Once she was next to him, she wanted to speak to him but words failed her. What could she say to him? So instead she only stood in silence.
Minutes passed by agonizingly slow. She wanted him to say something or to move. She wanted him to look at her. She wanted his piercing eyes boring into hers.
She took a deep breath and finally spoke, "Angel?"
For a moment he did not respond and she considered that he had not heard her. She opened her mouth to speak again when his soft voice cut her off.
"Yes Christine?"
Her heart involuntarily fluttered at the sound of his voice speaking her name.
She glanced down at the organ. They looked like they were yearning to be played. "Can you play for me?"
He slowly inched his head towards her and she glanced up at him hopefully. She noticed his lips twitch but they did not continue to form a smile.
"Of course." He responded and motioned for her to sit down. She lowered herself onto the edge of the bench. She watched him take off his cloak and gloves and set them neatly down on top of the organ. He took a seat next to her. The bench was so small that the sides of their bodies touched. He stretched out his long fingers and then placed them over the ivory keys.
He started out slow and the music seemed to surround her. What he was playing was simple yet beautiful. It touched every part of her.
And then it started to pick up speed and get more complicated. His hands flew across the keys, so fast and so swiftly that to her they were a blur. And yet every note was perfect there was not one wrong note in his playing. Not even the pianist in M. Reyer's orchestra was as talented.
Her eyes fluttered closed and she let herself get lost in his music. Every note was embedded into her brain and it was so soothing that she could feel herself start to drift off. She hadn't realized how tired she was until that moment.
She let a smile cross her lips and her head grew heavy. It automatically started to fall to the right and landed on something hard yet soft. Her eyes cracked open a speck to find herself leaning against his shoulder. She let out a contented sigh and closed her eyes again.
His whole body went tense when he felt her head land on his shoulder however, his playing never faltered. He stole a quick glance down at her. Her eyes were closed, her face was peaceful and she was even smiling.
At her smile, he couldn't resist a small smile of his own. He closed his own eyes and let the music take over. What he was playing was one of his own compositions, one he had committed to memory, one of the many he had written for the beauty currently sitting next to him.
The song he had chosen to play was one of his longer pieces. He chose that for one sole purpose. If nothing else connected him and Christine there was always music. He would get lost in the world of music when he played. The world where nothing hurt and with Christine at his side it only made things better.
The song slowed down once more as it came to a closing. His fingers brushed across the keys and they remained on the last note until it had faded away into nothing.
He slid his fingers off the keys and onto his lap. He waited patiently for quite a few moments to see if Christine would make any movement or say anything in response.
When she did not he prompted her, "Christine?"
Not a word. He looked down at her and noticed her deep and even breathing. She had fallen asleep.
With good reason, he admitted. She had been through too much that night.
And he couldn't wake her, there was no way he could. He carefully shifted his position and slipped his arms around her. With little difficulty he scooped her up into his arms and rose to his feet. She moved in his arms and he watched her carefully, hoping that she would not awaken. To his relief, she only let out a little noise and snuggled her face into his chest.
His heart rate took off like a rocket with that small action. He couldn't believe Christine was actually willing to be this close to him. And at the smile on her face he guessed that she was perfectly content to be where she was. She was comfortable being around him.
He could have stood there and watched her sleep for hours but his arms were starting to grow a little tired. He reluctantly tore his gaze away from her face and started towards the bedroom.
He laid her down gently onto the swan bed just as he had done not too long before. He brushed his hand gently across her cheek and she leaned into his touch.
The flutter in his heart returned and so did the knot in his stomach. He withdrew his hand and took a step back. It was too good to be true. It had to be. As much as he had hoped Christine would never long for his touch or smile in his presence.
But as he watched her sleep, he noticed the smile on her face disappeared as soon as he had stepped away from her. And that small flicker of hope burned inside him once again.
He was suddenly brought out of his dreamlike world when he heard movement in the water. His face darkened and he moved swiftly past the dark curtain blocking Christine from the rest of the lair. From where he stood he could not see anyone in the water but the sound continued. He narrowed his eyes and moved along the wall quietly and grabbed one of his many nooses. Had he been so distracted by Christine that he did not notice someone following them? Well he would soon take care of that problem.
He stood near the edge of the lake, the noose in his hands, ready to face his intruder.