The Bois
Christine walked over to one of the sunniest benches, and sat down. Not caring about her porcelain skin complexion, she turned her face skywards, and let the sun wash over her face. She closed her eyes, and breathed in deeply. Today was going to be a good day.
A few moments later, Christine heard a familiar voice cry out in disbelief, and opened her eyes sharply. Near the lake not 10 metres away from her, was Raoul. Noticing who it was, Christine scrambled to her feet and opened her mouth to excuse her presence in Paris.
But Raoul wouldn't let her talk. Striding over to meet her, he looked around furtively, grabbed her arm, and towed her into a more secluded spot.
"Christine! What in God's name are you doing here? Monette told me you were visiting Meg in Reims! She lied to me? Well! I'll take care of that when I get home! You on the other hand, must have told her to lie! What are you doing in Paris?" He was breathing heavily now. Suddenly, he looked down at her hands, and at her opera gloves and reason dawned upon him his pace paled visibly. "You didn't go to the Opera House, did you?" When Christine stayed silent he exploded once more, "You went to see HIM!! You went to see your Phantom!" He spat. "I told you never to see him again! You disobeyed me! You promised! You promised!"
Christine looked up at him with teary eyes and sang sadly.
"Anywhere you go
let me go too . . .
Love me -
that's
all I ask
of you . ."
She took hold of his left hand and touched his wedding band. "You promised too."
"Christine, Christine." He sang.
Her voice grew hysterical, "No Raoul! We tried to make it the same, like when we were children, but Raoul! It can never be the same! We have gone through too much! Young, naïve Christine is the one you think you love. But I'm not her! I'm older; I've seen the bitterness of the world, and what it can do to strong people! It is not kind! Raoul, you don't need me. I need someone who needs me! Raoul, you need a young pretty wife who's charming, and has a dowry and land to your name. You don't need a simple chorus girl who believes in silly fairytales, you need a Viscomptess!" She dropped her voice to a whisper. "Please. Let me go, and find yourself a better wife. You deserve it."
"But Christine, I don't want another wife, I want you!"
"But I'm already taken Raoul. Can't you see that? From the first note he sang to me when I was seven, I was his—and only his! I can never be yours! Please Raoul," she pleaded, "let me go to him."
"Not after all I've done! You're mine, and only mine! I won you, not him! If I have to chain you to a chair, and lock the door so you can't go to him then by God I'll do so! I haven't wasted two years of my life for nothing you know, I won't give you up! Not now! You made your choice in the basements, now live up to it! I haven't asked much from you, I understood that you were still shaken up, but this is too far!"
"Raoul, please!"
He grabbed her arm again, and started pushing her towards the exit gates, "No, darling! Come now, let's go home…"
Christine struggled and cried, "My home is not with you! It's with Erik!"
"Oho! It has a name now, does it? Well, I guess if he loved you enough he would be here right now, to win you back, eh, madam? Where is your black knight? Probably scuttling around in his cellar like the spider he is!"
Suddenly, a voice surrounded them with an awesome power. "A spider? Even a spider has the right to mate…And I believe the lady wishes for you to leave her."
Raoul grinned maniacally. "Erik, is it? Glad to meet you once more! Now, if you don't mind, my wife and I will be going home now…."
Erik's voice replied evenly. "Shall I repeat myself? I believe the lady wishes for you to leave her alone."
"She is my wife; I have every right to bring her home!"
"Yes, but does she wear your ring?"
"Of course she does!" Raoul yelled laughingly. "Of course she does! Look!" And he held up her left hand. He looked at it, and howled. He brought it close to his face, and saw no ring! "Where is it, monster? Where is the ring?!"
"Ah, well see that's a bit of a problem now, isn't it? You see, by now I should think it's at the bottom of the Seine…But look! I see another ring! On a necklace! Wonderful place to put a ring for safe keeping, don't you think? Well, at least until the wedding of course…It's rather marvellous ring, eh boy? Blue, and lustrous…a big sapphire in the middle, and little ones all around! No, that's not your ring, is it, monsieur? Yes, I thought not! It's my ring! It's my ring she wears on her neck, not yours! I've told you, boy, and I'll tell you again! Don Juan triumphs!" And he started laughing.
"You!" Raoul accused Christine. "You wench! How dare you wear another's ring! You're my wife! Mine! Give me that ring; give it to me now!" But as he went to rip it off her neck, he was silenced by the towering figure behind her.
"I think, monsieur, it is time for a time out." And a Punjab lasso sliced through the air to Raoul's neck. Raoul's eyes widened in recognition, and he started clawing at the lasso.
"You remember what it feels like, boy? Well, just like before you shall be in my mercy. Yes… feels good, doesn't it? But once again– as there's a lady present– I won't kill you. This time, I shall be running away with Christine, not you. Keep your hand at the level of your eyes Changy, because next time Christine won't be here to save you. " And with that, he jerked the lasso so that Raoul passed out, and tugged Christine back into the shadows with him.
Back in his lair, Erik led Christine to the only intact room. The Louis- Philippe room with her swan bed.
"Oh Erik…You've kept this room all this time? Why?" Christine asked.
"Christine…" Erik replied sadly. "When you left…All I wanted to do was wreck all that I had created in my home. I wrecked my room, my music, my organ that I spent months making…I ruined it all! Because of anger! And yet, the only place I could not destroy was this room. This room… and this room only, has been dusted and cleaned and kept. I never knew why though. I thought you had left me for good. " Erik shook his head.
Christine bit her lip and looked around the room. "Me too."
When Christine had settled in her room for a nap, Erik sat down at his new organ and began composing. His new opera, Song of a Beast, would be his most inspiring opera yet…
"My heart foreseeing your condemnation,
Into this tomb I made my way by stealth..."
It was days until Erik and Christine had their first singing lesson in a long time. They were singing music from his original composition, Song of a Beast.
"And here, far from every human gaze
In your arms I wished to die..."
"No!" Erik yelled in vexation. He stood up so quickly from his seat at the organ that the bench fell over. "Longing Christine! That is what Amelia is feeling! You must put the longing into your voice! You must be able to do that! Once more!" He started from the beginning. As she started to sing, he pounded his fists on the keys and growled. "Your posture Christine! Where has it gone? You are slouching! You must keep your diaphragm straight, or you will not be able to reach your full potential! You cannot reach a high C with so little breath! Your whistle register will wilt under such carelessness! Breathe! With your stomach! Yes! Good! Now...sing!" And with that said, he sat back down on the bench and began playing from her entrance.
"My heart foreseeing your condemnation,
Into this tomb I made my way by stealth..."
Losing himself in the music, Erik swayed from side to side in a trance, nodding his head when she reached the low notes, and holding his breath on the high notes.
"And here, far from every human gaze
In your arms I wished…"
Emboldened by Erik's reaction to her singing, Christine daringly started to sing a few lines from his unfinished opera, Don Juan Triumphant.
"Your eyes see but my shadow
My heart is overflowing
There's so much you could come to love
Tenderly, you can see my soul!"
Suddenly, a loud discordant sound erupted from the organ. Christine turned to look at Erik. He was slumped over the organ, his head resting on the keys.
"Oh Erik! Why've you stopped? Was it the song? Was my breathing incorrect? Were the high notes off-key?" Christine was puzzled. She sounded alright…
He looked up at her. Erik was breathing harshly, and his eyes turned an emerald green. "No, mon ange…that song…You were perfect. And it scares me."
"Why ever would it scare you? Isn't that good? It is good that I'm improving, is it not?"
"Oh Christine…It's wonderful! And yet saddening. I have nothing left to teach you! There is no more reason for you to stay with me…"
"Oh Erik…" She laid a hand on his arm. "There is much you can teach me! I haven't learnt the rest of your opera, and I would very much love to do so. And you could teach me how to play an instrument! What lovely instruments you use to have…a violin, an organ, a spinet…And what about cleaning! I can help you clean up! This place is a dreadful place right now; there's no light, and everything's a mess! I'll help you clean!" Excited with the new possibilities, Christine jumped up from behind him and pattered around, stacking music together, and putting inkpots away. Suddenly, a thin hand came into her view and pulled the inkpot away gently.
"Go rest," Erik soothed. "We'll continue the lesson tomorrow."
Once inside her room, Christine changed out of her corset and dress, and donned a nightgown. She could faintly hear Erik shuffling around, trying not to disturb her. 'What a kind soul he is. To others he may be cruel, but when he likes you, he won't ever leave.' And she smiled. He liked her.
Outside, Christine could hear the calls of drunken men, and the clatter of coaches bringing everyone home. She sighed wistfully. If she stayed down here and married Erik she would probably never talk to anyone outside of his lair. 'Oh well. Erik's worth it.' Then, as clear as the bells of Notre Dame, Christine could hear the angry shouts and splashes of men crossing the underground lake to the lair. Wild-eyed and frightened, Christine wrenched open her bedroom door, and ran into Erik's room to find him looking for his sword.
"Erik! Don't! You can't possibly fight them all and win! What will I do if you're dead? Erik, please! Let's escape! We've done it before; we'll do it again!" Christine stood in front of him. "Please…let's run…"
"I'm sorry Christine." Erik said. "I have run all my life, and finally I have found something worth fighting for."
Christine looked puzzled. "What have you found Erik?"
"You." With that said, he grabbed his sword, and jumped out to the shore of his lake.
Christine could hear the mob thrashing through the water; coming closer, and closer. With one last effort Christine yelled, "Erik! Let's leave! Leave before they find us, and kill us!"
"No Christine. I won't run anymore." And with that, he jumped into the lake and started fending off the mob. Suddenly, five men swelled around him, and Erik could no longer hold them off.
"Christine!" He yelled above the din. "Find the switch next to the fireplace! It will set off the gunpowder. Then run!"
Christine ran to up the stairs, past the organ, and into Erik's room to the fireplace.
"Christine! No!" It was Raoul. He had managed to escape the battle, and was fighting his way towards Christine. "Christine, if you flip that switch, you will kill us all!" Christine paused in front of the fireplace.
"No!" Erik shouted. "Christine! As long as you run as soon as you flip the switch you'll be fine! There's a delay on the cord! Flip it and RUN!" Christine looked torn. Saddened, she looked unto Raoul and said, "Raoul. Please leave now. You may not be able to get out, so please! Leave us! Take your men and leave! There is no need for anyone to die. Not now, not ever."And she turned to the fireplace.
As she was searching along the metal grating she heard a voice yell, "The missus's going to burn t'place to the ground! Run fer ya lives!" Hearing their friend, the mob drop their clubs, and pitchforks, and swords down and ran. Out of the house beyond the lake, out behind the portcullis, and out beyond the lake.
In hope of distracting Christine, he stabbed at Erik. Erik parried his attack effortlessly, and reposted. After a series of attacks, counterattacks and reprises, Erik found an opening in Raoul's enguard, and thrust. Raoul fell down hard onto the ground, clutching his belly. "Monster!" he yelled.
Not to be distracted from the task at hand, Christine's hand grazed over the switch. Shrieking to Raoul, "Run!" she ran to Erik.
"Erik! Come we must go! The whole opera house is going to be blown to the ground. We must leave now or we'll die!" Heaving himself up from the lake, Erik let his sword fall to the ground, and grabbed Christine's hand. "There's an escape route behind the mirrors. Grab a candelabrum and smash the mirrors. Quickly!"
Scrabbling for the candelabrum, Christine looked regretfully at the mirror, and smashed it. Seeing no passage behind the broken shards, she moved onto the next one. Beside her, Erik did the same until at last he yelled out in happiness. "Here it is!" Giving the mirror one last blow, it shattered into a million pieces, and revealed a passageway behind it.
"Come on!" Erik jerked Christine through the corridor, and saw Raoul on the ground. Christine seeing where Erik looked, cried out, "Erik! We can't leave him! He'll die!"
"Christine, if we don't leave, we'll all die! It's his fault…Mon ange, we must leave!"
"Erik! Please! All he did was out of love for me! He can't die! Please! Don't do it for him, do it for me! For me!"
Growling, Erik pushed Christine through the mirror, and blocked her entrance into his lair. "Run! Run now and I might save him! But you must be safe first!" Christine glanced furtively over Erik's shoulder, turned on her heel and ran.
Seeing that Christine was running, Erik ran after her to ensure her safety. They ran for a minute down the passageway until they reached the fresh air. Gasping, Christine turned around and saw that the opera house was burning. Already the explosions started fires on the upper levels, and we working their way down to the sublevels.
"ERIK!" Christine yelled over the din. "Go back now, and save him! He doesn't deserve to die like this!" Seeing that nothing would dissuade her, Erik kissed her roughly once before he dashed into the burning opera house. With nothing to do but sit and wait for their safe return, Christine sat down on the curb, and prayed.
Down in the basements, Erik emerged from the secret corridor to be welcomed by the sound of multiple explosions. Searching his lair frantically for Raoul, Erik heard a dissonant sound and turned sharply to his organ. Erik spotted Raoul leaning against his organ for support. Evidently, he had tried to crawl his way through the passageway, but his wound was too painful.
Without any other thought in his head, Erik rushed to Raoul and threw him over his shoulder. Lacking the strength to protest, Raoul kept silent and rested limply against Erik's shoulder.
Before rushing off into the passageway, Erik allowed himself a single tear and a fleeting look of his only home before he limped his way past the broken mirror. Hearing the explosions grow louder, Erik sprinted as quickly as one could with a full grown man on his back through the corridor. As he emerged into the twilight, the last explosion could be heard from inside his lair. Nothing would ever be able to be salvaged.
Upon seeing Erik and Raoul, a look of relief swept across her face, and was replaced by a look of worry. Christine saw the state of the two men, and started yelling, "Doctor! We need a doctor!"
Minutes later, a squadron of gendarmes ran from around the corner, and surrounded the trio.
"Madam, please step away from the man." As the captain was speaking, the other gendarmes pointed their muskets at Erik. "He is the Opera Ghost."
"No!" Christine cried. "He was, but not anymore! He just saved a man's life, please!"
Shaking his head, the captain stood in front of Erik and pulled out handcuffs.
"Monsieur le Fantome, you are charged with the murders of Joseph Buquet, and Ubaldo Piangi. You are also charged with blackmailing the managers of the Opera Populaire, and arson. You have the right to remain silent until the right authorities can be summoned. Please turn around and put your hands behind your back" He handcuffed Erik, and started to pull him away to an awaiting police car. Before entering the car, Erik turned around and looked at Christine.
Seeing her with tears streaming down her face, Erik's face turned white.
"Mon ange…I won't fight. I won't run. I have run all my life, and it's time I stop. I knew this would happen someday, it comes with masquerading as the undead. I had just prayed it wouldn't be today. Not when we are finally at peace." He glanced at Raoul. "Monsieur, if I die in prison, I would like to know that you will take care of my Christine. I would like all her needs attended to. And she must be allowed to sing. And Monsieur… you were a worthy opponent. "With that, he turned back to Christine and rewarded her with a rare smile.
"Say you'll share with me
One love, one lifetime,
Lead me, save me
From my solitude
Say you want me with you here
Beside you,
Anywhere you go, let me go too,
Christine, that's all I asked of you!"
"Until we meet again, mon ange de musique." And he stepped into the car.
With little else to do but go home, Christine returned to her room at the inn. Stumbling like a drunkard, Christine slipped into bed fully clothed. She pulled the duvet up to her chin and closed her eyes. In the middle of the night, Christine awoke from a bad dream. Unable to sleep, Christine got out of bed, shook her rumpled clothes, and headed downstairs. As she wandered around the streets of Paris, she wrapped her arms around herself and hiccupped.
In desperation to find Erik, Christine walked down to the Champs d'Éllysées to find a cab. When she finally found a taxi, Christine instructed the cabdriver to drive to the police station. Nodding his acquiescence, the cabdriver snapped the reins and put the horse into motion.
At long last, they reached the police station and Christine disembarked from the cab. She paid him 10 francs and walked into the station. She looked around. All around her, Christine could see hallways, hear the cries of doomed men, and smell the distasteful smell of rotting flesh. The station was made of cold stone, and so Christine stood and shivered.
She took a deep breath, and turned to the gendarme at the desk "Excusez moi, Monsieur," she asked, "I am looking for a friend of mine, Erik, I think he was brought here yesterday."
"Oui Mademoiselle." Christine noticed his title for her. "What does he look like?"
Christine moistened her lips and replied, "Ummm…he's tall, has black hair and blue eyes, and-" Christine cast her eyes downwards, ashamed, "and he has a malformed face."
"Ah, oui Mademoiselle!" the gendarme cried. "Le fantôme de l'Opéra! Why didn't you say so?" Taking a torch, the gendarme led Christine through a hallway, past iron cells and locked doors to the very last cell.
"Voila! Ton fantôme est ici! You are allowed 5 minutes, Mademoiselle."
As soon as he walked away, Christine stood on her tiptoes and pressed her face against the metal grate in the door and peered inside the cell. She almost cried. All her life, Christine had known Erik to be mysterious, and impeccable with not a hair out of place. Seeing him on a cold prison bench in rags, no mask, and his hands clasped together in prayer, made Christine wish it was not she who had driven him to this state. All his defences were gone, all the illusions and pretences, until he was only a depraved man.
Steeling herself, Christine whispered, "Erik?"
Erik jerked his head up, and his eyes grew wide with shock. "Christine?" he whispered disbelievingly. He sat up, strode to the door, and stuck out his hand to touch Christine face.
"Oh mon Dieu, it is you, mon ange! My darling Christine, don't cry! I am at peace here."
"Oh Erik! I want to pay for your release! I would give everything I own to see you playing your music once more!"
"Mon ange, money will not help. I am told that I must stand trial and be exonerated, or death!"
Christine breathed in sharply, "Trial? Death? Oh mon Dieu!"
"No don't cry. I'll be fine, don't worry about me. I'm more concerned about you! Where will you go? What will you do?" Suddenly, a feverish light shone in his eyes, and Erik spoke quickly, "Christine this is what I want you to do. I want you to go to La Banque in La Place de la Concorde and say your name is Madame Destler. Say you were married in secret. They will ask you for the number of my bank box, 57, and you will tell them. Then they will ask for a pass code, 4931, Christine, repeat that for me, 4931. Get EVERYTHING out of the box for me. Keep it all to yourself and don't let ANYONE take it away from you. Find some shelter and food. Christine, the contents of my box are rightfully yours. If I die it states in my will, which is in the bank, that I leave you everything."
"Erik! When did you make your will?"
"Five years ago."
"Oh Erik…what's in the box?"
"Mon ange, there's not enough time. Tell me, where is the bank?"
"La Place de la Concorde "
"And what's the box number?"
"57. Erik-"
"Shhh, no time. And the password?"
"4931."
"Good girl. As soon as you leave I want you go to the bank, alright? Promise me you'll go, mon ange!"
"I promise Erik. Erik, what shall I do without you?"
"Christine, I'm not going anywhere," Erik replied soothingly. "I'm with you wherever you go."
"Yes Erik." Then the couple heard footsteps and they both looked up into the eyes of the gendarme. He smiled.
"I'm sorry, Mademoiselle, but your five minutes are up."
"Of course, Monsieur. Merci." She looked at Erik. "Goodbye, my angel." With one last glance at Erik, Christine walked stiffly though to cold stone halls to the sunlight. Squinting her eyes from the light, Christine turned to the man and asked, "When is Erik's trial?"
"Tomorrow, Mademoiselle, tomorrow at noon. But only family may watch." The gendarme looked her up and down. "Are you family?"
"Oui, monsieur. I am his…wife." Which she was in everything but name.
"Very well Madame." Christine noticed the subtle change in titles. "Tomorrow at noon in the courtroom. Enjoy your day." And with a tip of his hat, the gendarme disappeared back into the police station. Christine walked out the doors. She was greeted with the morning rays of sunlight, and a flurry of activity. The Paris market was already full with kiosks and stalls.
Christine crossed the street and walked down Les Champs d'Élysées. She walked until she reached the red brick building called 'La Banque' nestled in between two apartment buildings. Christine rested her hand on the doorknob and took a deep breath. She pushed open the door and was greeted with a whirlwind of disarray. She heard people yelling, bells tinkling, and typewriters typing. Christine crossed the room to the tellers in front of a wall lined with locked boxes. Trying to calm down and keep her nervous rattle out of her voice, Christine stated, "I'd like to open a box, Monsieur."
The teller smiled. "Certainement, Mademoiselle. What is the box number?"
'Okay.' Christine thought. 'Í know this one.' "57." The teller scanned the record sheet. "Ahh...Destler, Erik. Only M. Erik and his wife may open the box. Désolé Mademoiselle." The teller started to turn away.
"Monsieur!" Christine implored. "I am his wife!" She was breathing heavily. The teller looked shocked. "His wife? Why weren't we informed of this union?" Christine shrugged her shoulders. "It was a small wedding Monsieur, in England. We told no one." 'Time to make this charade look real.' Using her years of acting experience, Christine improvised. She made herself blush, and lowered her eyelashes; for all the demure wife. "My family didn't approve of our union, and so we married in secret in England. We've been in the country for a month, and decided it was time to join society again." Frustrated, Christine clenched her hands, gritted her teeth, and said, "Monsieur, my husband is awaiting my return, with the contents of our box. Will you delay me further?"
"Where is your husband, Madame?"
"He is busy with our affairs. We must find a house!"
The teller looked sceptical. "Very well¸ Madame. And what is the pass code?"
"It's 4931, Monsieur."
"Very good, Madame. Wait here." The teller abandoned his station at the desk, and walked down the wall of boxes until he arrived at 57. He pulled it out of the wall and set it on the desk. Producing a key out of nowhere, the teller unlocked the box, and opened the lid.
"And what will you be withdrawing today, Madame?" Christine fought a gasp. Inside the box lay sparkling jewels, and stacks upon stacks of crisp 500 franc notes. Unable to withstand it, Christine gaped at the box, and cried, "Oh mon Dieu!" She stood staring at Erik's riches.
"Is there a problem, Madame?" The teller asked, startling Christine out of her reverie.
"No, Monsieur! It's just…I knew my husband was well off, but this is beyond my imagination!" She stared at the jewels again, lost in her own thoughts. 'If I know Erik, more than half of this is stolen!'
"Madame?" The teller was eyeing her worriedly, concerned about the petite woman's strange behaviour. "What will you withdraw?" Christine snapped out of it. "Oh I'm sorry, Monsieur. My husband instructed for me to withdraw it all."
"All of it?" One look at Christine's face, and the teller hurriedly corrected his speech. "Very good, Madame." As the teller emptied the box's valuable contents into a bag, Christine's mind was reeling. 'I knew Erik was rich, but not this rich! There must at least a million francs in that box!' She was having a hard time getting her mind around that thought. Still in a daze, Christine accepted the heavy bag. She walked out into the street and finally smiled to herself. She would never beg for money!
She headed towards the realtor office and met with a solicitor. The solicitor showed Christine many houses in the city of Paris, and a couple in the countryside. But only one struck her fancy. It was a small mansion on a lake surrounded by trees. There was a large backyard and front yard. There was a brick path that led up to the red door. Inside it was dusty and dark, with some cleaning and fresh air, it would work. There were two small bedrooms and a master bedroom. There was one bathroom, and the kitchen was airy. The dining room and living rooms were large, and the entrance hall was grand with a spiral staircase leading up to the second floor. From the entrance hall Christine followed a set of stairs that were set off to the side of the entrance hall. Up Christine climbed until she reached a room. The room was medium sized with a large window overlooking the water. A desk stood in the corner, and along the wall was an object covered with a white sheet. Intrigued, Christine pulled back the sheet and gasped. It was a piano! It was carved from a beautiful red oak, and had intricately carved designs all over it. Its ivory keys were dusty, but their radiance shone through the layers of dust and neglect. Slowly, like a vine in her mind, it dawned upon her. This was the music room! Already, Christine could envision the piano cleaned and polished, and the desk covered with scores of original compositions. She could see the violin propped up against the wall in the corner, and her singing by the window with Erik at the piano bench. Without a doubt, Christine knew she would always cherish this house, and knew Erik would too.
Her mind made up, Christine turned to the solicitor and declared, "I'll take it."
Back at the solicitor's office, Christine was busy reading documents, and signing contracts. When it was all over, the solicitor took all the papers, and put them in a file labelled, 'Destler, Christine'. Letting out a sigh, the solicitor opened a drawer in his desk. His hand disappeared into the drawer, then reappeared a moment later holding a brass key. Holding the key out to Christine, the solicitor smiled and said, "Félicitations Madame. Enjoy your new home."
Grinning like a crazed woman, Christine exited the office. Hearing the bells of Notre Dame ring twelve times, her face fell. She had to get to the courthouse! She raced over to an awaiting cabby and said, "To the courthouse!" With the snap of the reins, they were off, the rickety wheels bouncing over the cobblestone street.
At last they reached the courthouse. Frantically dumping the contents of her change purse into the lap of the cabdriver, Christine picked up her skirts and ran into the courthouse.
Puffing from the exertion, Christine slowed down her steps as she reached the courtroom. She flung open the doors and looked around. She had entered from the back of the room. It was a large, airy room with a high ceiling, with tall glass windows on two walls. At the head of the room was a high table where the judge sat, and had lower tables scattered around it. In front of the high table were chairs, filled with spectators. Most of them were part of the opera house, the ones who had been terrorized by the Phantom. Others were rich men and their wives trying to find some excitement.
'I thought only family was allowed to watch,' thought Christine wryly. 'Oh well.' Christine walked down the aisle to one of the seats in the front. As she walked, every head turned her way, and whispers were exchanged. Christine let out a little sigh of annoyance. There would always be whispers around her. She sat down and waited.
At last the judge appeared and sat in his chair at the high table. He took up his mallet, and pounded it on the desk.
"Order! Order in the court!" he yelled. He nodded towards a nearby gendarme. "Bring in the prisoner!"
A creak sounded, and a side door opened. Out came Erik led by another gendarme. His hands and feet were bound in chains, and his arms were held fast by the gendarme.
Christine raised her head up, and saw others crane their necks to get a view of the elusive Phantom of the Opera. She saw Erik swivel his head around to find her, and when he did, he nodded his head, sat down in his appointed chair, and waited for the judge to speak. He wore no mask. The spectators burst into frightened whispers and moans of disgust when they saw his face.
Again, the mallet sounded, and the courtroom fell silent. "Here sits the man known as the Phantom of the Opera, Erik Destler. You are convicted of murder, blackmail, embezzlement, and arson. How do you plead?"
Erik lifted his head up and spoke clearly. "Guilty, your Honour. I did all those things, and yet it seems that I have not yet paid society back for my earlier beatings."
The judge looked surprised. "Beatings?"
"As a child, my mother abandoned me, left me for the gypsies. A gypsy named Javert imprisoned me, forced me to perform, and when I didn't, I was beaten…your Honour."
"Perform? Perform what?" The judge leaned forward in his chair.
"Singing. Magic. I was their main attraction. I can sing to make the angels weep, and magic a skeleton to dance. My mother hated my voice. She said it was too beautiful, so it must be a gift from the Devil. That was the basis of my orphanage." Erik smiled cynically. "That, among other things." He motioned to his face.
"I see…I assume you escaped from the gypsies, otherwise you would not be here."
"Yes. Javert had tied me up in a cage, like an animal. I extricated myself from the rope, and strangled Javert with it. I persuaded a dog to bring the cage keys to me. I also have a gift with animals."
"It seems you have many talents, and have led many roles in your life. You are not a phantom anymore, nor a sideshow freak. You are stripped of everything you have been. So Erik, what are you now?"
"I am a composer. I am a magician, and a genius, a musician, and an architect."
"You self proclaim…but now for your crimes. Murder, blackmail, arson, extortion…The list is endless! And you plead guilty. It seems we have nothing more to discuss than when you should leave for prison!"
"No!" Without realizing, the word flew out of Christine's mouth. She stood quickly. "You cannot! Apart from all the things Erik has done, he is a good man! He has taught me, guided me, and loved me. For my sake, he saved the man he hates the most, my husband, Raoul de Changy!"
"And you are?" he asked.
"Madame de Changy, the former Mademoiselle Daae. Last night, Erik saved Raoul from a burning building, to calm me! Why would he do that if he was a cold blooded murderer?"
The judge turned towards Erik. "You failed to mention that." Erik looked down. "Is Monsieur de Changy present?"
A throat cleared. "I am here, your honour." All heads turned to Raoul. He stood up.
"Is it true, what your wife has said?"
Raoul looked torn between putting the Phantom in prison, and easing his wife's consciousness. At last, he sighed. "Yes, it's true. I-" he looked sick. "I would like to drop all charges against Monsieur Destler. He has saved my life, and that of my wife's, and I believe he means me, and everyone in Paris, no harm. Release him; he is not the man you all think he is." Raoul looked like the life had been sapped out of him. He sat down.
The judge's eyes widened in disbelief, as did everyone else's. "Drop the charges?"
"Yes, your Honour. Drop all charges pertaining to Erik Destler, and let us be on about our days."
"Monsieur-"
"Just do it!" Raoul yelled as he stormed out of the courtroom, leaving a trail of whispers behind him.
The judge was miffed. Sighing, he struck his mallet to the table and yelled, "Order in the court!" The talking halted.
"In light of recent information, all charges against Erik Destler, also known as the Phantom of the Opera, shall be dropped. However," he gazed sternly at a shocked Erik, "However, if I find out that you have so much as forgotten to pay a bill, our next meeting won't be as happy for you. Go, find yourself a job, and live a normal life. I never want to hear your name again. Release him." he instructed the gendarmes. And he stepped down from the high table.
Christine stood stalk still. She couldn't believe it. Erik had gotten off! After everything he'd done, it was Raoul who had saved him! She couldn't move. The crowd looked disappointed, and they started to disperse. At last, the courtroom was empty, save for two people, a woman and a man, both of whom were staring at nothing. Finally, the latter coughed, and Christine snapped back to reality.
"Erik!" She ran over to him. She grabbed his face with her hands and said, "Are you alright?" At first, he didn't answer, he was staring into her eyes like nothing else existed. Then, a slow smiled stole over his mouth, and he replied, "Never better." And they kissed.
Two Weeks Later
"Well, it's done!" Christine beamed happily at Erik. "My marriage with Raoul has been annulled. I'm free." Erik smiled at her, and kissed her hand "I am overjoyed. But now, you must show me this house of ours." Christine's eyes widened and she grabbed his hand as she towed him out the door. "Come on!"
Eighty-five francs later, they arrived at the mansion on the lake. Christine reached into her pocket, and procured a handkerchief. She grinned. "Turn around Erik." Erik cocked an eyebrow. "What are you doing?" he asked suspiciously. "It's a surprise. Now shh." She tied the handkerchief around his eyes, took his hand, and led him through the front door. She opened the side door, and said, "Watch your step," as she escorted him up the stairs. At last they reached the music room. Before she removed his blindfold, she wanted to survey the room one last time. Christine had come in a day earlier with a couple of maids, and had cleaned up the house. While they had worked on the kitchen and other rooms, Christine had stayed up cleaning the music room. She had polished the piano, put up new curtains, and dusted everywhere. She had swept and scrubbed the floor until the hardwood floor sparkled, and took a broom to all the spider webs in the corners. The room was spectacular.
"Alright." Christine led Erik to the middle of the room, and untied the handkerchief. As soon as Erik's mind registered the piano, and that this was a music room, his eyes lit up like lights. He stood with his mouth open, taking it all in. Eventually, he attempted speech.
"How-? What-? Chris-?" He gave up, and settled with picking her up and twirling her around. When he set her back down on the floor, Christine looked up at him, and grinned. "Like it?" He growled.
A Couple Days Later
'Ah! Je ris de me voir
Si belle en ce
miroir!...
Est-ce toi, Marguerite?
Réponds-moi, réponds vite!
Non! Non! -- ce n'est plus toi!
Ce n'est plus ton
visage!
C'est la fille d'un roi,
Qu'on salue au passage!
Ah!
S'il était ici!'
They were singing. Erik was playing at the piano, jotting down notes and chords, while Christine stood at the window singing.
"Bravissima, mon ange! That was perfect!" Erik complimented.
"Thank you Erik. Can we stop now, please? My voice needs a rest."
"Of course!" He got up from the piano, and beckoned towards her. "Let's go to the lake."
"What a lovely idea! Just a moment." Christine hurried down the stairs and fetched a sunhat. "All ready. Let's go!" Walking down the path that led from their house to the lake with their hands entwined, they talked, and laughed together. They reached the shore of the lake, and sat down on the green grass. Erik sat down, resting his weight on his hands, while Christine laid down with her head in Erik's lap.
"Don't you wish we could stay like this forever? Out in the sun, with the birds trilling their song, and the waves rushing upon the shore…you and me, together, with just our music...it's perfect."
"Mmm…" Erik murmured. They stayed like that for a couple minutes before Erik started to hum. Christine sat up, and hummed along with him as she leaned against him.
Slowly Suddenly, Erik's humming turned into singing softly into her ear.
'Say you'll share with me
One love, one lifetime'
Christine stared at him, remembering that last time he had sung those words to her…
'Lead me, save me from my solitude
Say you want me with you here beside you…'
She felt him reach into his pocket for something…
'Anywhere you go, let me go too
Christine, that's all I ask of-'
When he said her name, Erik had waved his hand with a flourish, produced a small navy blue box, and opened it. Inside lay a sparkling diamond ring. The reason he didn't finish his song this time was because this time, Christine had kissed him in reply. When they were done, Christine looked into his eyes, and sang,
'I'll help you make the music of the night!'
Thank you for reading my story. Please review, it really helps with my writing ability. Constructive criticism is welcome.
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