Yay, two follows and a review! I'm just going to keep writing and hope more people will start to like this. Considering I originally posted this only a little while ago, I'm pretty optimistic!
Disclaimer: I do not own Love Never Dies or any of the characters thereof except possible OCs further down the line. Andrew Lloyd Webber and Leroux pretty much own everything else.
Note: Thanks to judybear236, I've made some changes since he/she pointed out that some of what I originally had didn't really make sense. My fault for rushing into it, I guess. Thanks judybear! And thank you so much to everyone that reviewed!
Chapter Two
Erik lay next to Christine, still in that realm between sleeping and waking. His whole chest was filled with an emotion that at first he couldn't quite place, an emotion that made his whole body quiver. Then the Phantom woke fully with the realization—it was bliss. Erik opened his eyes, and daylight illuminated Christine beside him. He had never seen her in a natural light outside the opera house, and it took his breath away. This beautiful, perfect creature—she was his. And he was hers. It was still something he hardly believed.
The Phantom got up, careful not to disturb his sleeping angel, wrapping a robe around himself and going straight to his staff paper. His hands hummed with excitement and energy, there was so much music that had burst into being from this one night. There was an aria watching her sleep, a series of symphonies for the entire night, rising and falling, from fortissimo to pianissimo in a matter of an instant…he couldn't imagine what it would be like during the rest of their lives together. It was an entirely endless operatic series just to think about. Caught by the sheer beauty of the music flowering inside his head, Erik just sat back and listened. So lost was he in the music that he did not hear his angel come behind him. Wrapped in another of Erik's robes, her heart started pounding at the sight of him—partly from the memory of her fears, partly from her current love, and partly in wondering what was going to happen next. For now at least, she was determined to live in the present.
\ "Hello, Erik," she said, wrapping her arms around his chest. "Are you writing?"
"I'm trying to, my angel, but I'm finding myself…overwhelmed." Usually he wasn't so upfront and honest with her. It made him feel…more normal.
"And why is that?" she asked playfully. At that, Erik's lips twitched up in an involuntary smile.
"I think you know," he said equally coyly, turning around and pulling a surprised Christine onto his lap. "Shall we try to find something I can focus on?" Christine saw that he had put his mask back on, and his wig, now that it was light. She reached her hand out to remove it, and saw Erik's face contort. She stopped, and he relaxed a little.
"You don't have to right now, love. But someday I hope you trust me enough." In her mind's eye, Christine envisioned a long, long road, never ending, down which Erik would try to heal.
I will change for you. The thought once more occurred to Erik. Why not start with this mask, just for you?
Erik pulled off his mask and wig himself, pressed his lips against those of his angel. Instead of recoiling, as he half-expected, Christine gently pressed her hand against the deformed side of his face, careful not to apply too much pressure. Her lips, on the other hand, were pressed against his with passion and fire. She pulled back, her face no more than three inches from his.
"Past the point of no return,
The final threshold—"
"The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn," Erik joined her, singing softly but passionately, sweeping Christine up in a bridal carry and standing.
"We've passed the point of no return…"
That night, Erik and Christine slipped out of his hiding place and stole through the streets of Paris towards Madame Giry's apartment given to her by her sister after the opera's collapse. Erik was wearing a hat and bandages instead of his usual mask. Evidently Giry had been bringing Erik food and information since he had disappeared from the opera.
"But Erik, why are we going?" Christine asked as they walked, whispering.
"It's not safe for you to stay with me. The police and now the Chagny private detectives are after me. Madame Giry and Meg are planning on leaving the country, and you can go with them." Erik said all of this quickly, leading the way with his long, fast stride, not looking back at Christine.
"What about you? You have to get out of here more than the rest of us!" Christine hissed. Without warning, Erik turned around, sweeping them both into a side alley, pressing Christine up against the wall. His hands gripped her shoulders so tightly she almost cried out in pain. Memories of his abuse that last night in the opera welled up inside her. Close to panicking, she forced herself to remain calm and simply let Erik have his word. Now was not the time to fight back against the evil in him.
"I can't endanger any of you that way," Erik said angrily. "If you're found, you'll be tried as accomplices. I'll die if I'm caught. You'll die if you're caught with me." The Phantom hung his head, shaking. "If you were to die on account of my actions, I'd never forgive myself." His grip loosened, and Christine touched Erik's chin, forcing him to look at her.
"If I leave you to save myself, and you died, how do you think I would feel?" As Erik dropped his arms, confusion spreading itself across his features, Christine continued, "This isn't the opera anymore, Erik. You can't decide our fates so completely out here. I'm not one of your singers anymore, Meg isn't one of your dancers, and Madame Giry isn't your subordinate. You have to trust us." Christine smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I know what I'm doing. Madame Giry probably knows better than all of us." She looked him in the eye almost condescendingly. "I just came back to you, Erik, entirely of my own accord. I'm not going to leave you again." Planting a light kiss on his lips, Christine took his hand and led the way out of the alley.
Madame Giry's apartment was only a few minutes from where they were, and there was a back entrance which Erik and Christine utilized.
"She's not expecting me," Erik said, "But I guarantee she's prepared nonetheless." With that, he knocked twice, then four times, then three times. Madame Giry opened the door, embracing Erik and talking rapidly.
"We thought you might drop by, we've thought of a few plans but we'd like to discuss them with you—" She stopped in shock when she noticed Christine behind the Phantom. "Christine, what are you doing here, child?"
"She's with me," Erik said brusquely.
"Are the viscount's accusations true, then?" she retorted harshly, ushering them inside as quickly as possible and shutting the door. "Meg met him at the market, apparently he thinks you've kidnapped Christine from the Chagny villa."
"Kidnapped her?" Erik said angrily. "Be logical, Antoinette, she would have had an opportunity to escape on the way here if that were really the case—"
"I'm here of my own accord, Madame Giry," Christine interjected. "I'm coming with you all, wherever you're going."
"What about Raoul?" Madame Giry asked suspiciously. Christine swallowed, a lump in her throat.
"He…he wanted me to stop singing. And he wanted to kill Erik. And…something happened. I'd rather not talk about it." Erik was looking at her in concern, a rage starting to boil in his stomach at the mention of whatever the pretty-boy viscount must have done…
"Very well," Madame Giry said reluctantly. "Come into the kitchen and I'll make you something to eat, both of you." As the two headed to the kitchen, the ballet instructor took one last look outside at the night and quickly drew the curtains over the window.
