Death's Requiem

OceansAway


Whoa! Sorry for the really long wait. But now that school's out, I can update more. After this chapter, all that is left is the epilogue and alternate ending from my beta StarryKnight46.

His past is mostly Kay influence but I've taken some artistic license.

Credit to Ette on helping me with the ending and editing.

Chapter 3 was reposted but nothing significant was changed.

Disclaimer: As my attempt to take over the universe has failed I am left with my mind, and they took just about everything else away.

Erik turned away, unable to watch the expression of hatred creep over her face. "I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do. I created that poison to kill. I don't even remember what I put in there. I'm so sorry." His voice diminished into a whisper as he started sobbing. Deep sobs choked his throat and he leaned onto Christine.

Christine did her best to comfort the man that she was used to supporting her. She didn't speak. She didn't trust her voice. She knew that life with Erik would be difficult. She knew to there would be hardships. She knew it might not work out. But she didn't except it to end so soon. "Erik, I'm sorry too. There's nothing…"

Erik straightened. "There is one thing. I must confess to you."

"No Erik, it's all right. You don't have to."

"Love, I want to. You deserve to know, I am the man that killed you."

"Stop it! You did not raise the glass to my lips; therefore, you did not kill me. But if you wish it, continue."

Erik took a deep breath, knowing that this would be his last chance to repent. "When I was just a child, I lived with my mother. She hated me, for all that I represented. I was the wall in her path. My face scared away my father. I scared away her doctor lover. My only friend was Sasha, my dog. The village boys killed her. For my birthday, I once asked my mother for two kisses. She refused. That is when I started to hate her. When I was older, she sold me to the gypsies."

Christine had retained her horror at his horrible treatment so far. When she heard of his abandonment, no, enslavement, which she sold her son into, she could not contain her astonishment. "How could she do such a thing? To her own flesh and blood?" Christine could hardly contain her outrage.

"Christine, she hated me. I cannot blame her. She became an outcast for bearing a demon, no ill deeds or scandal, just a deformed babe. With the gypsies, I was "The Devil's Child" for many years. After I showed Javert, my captor, my singing abilities, I was given a tent of my own. My conditions were only slightly better. Instead of my mask being brutally ripped from my face, I removed it myself. One day, Javert came into my tent, and… We argued… Suddenly I had slit his neck and the blood was gushing over my body. And I knew I had to leave. I ran, and ran, and ran." He looked to Christine for her expression. She was pale, and had her hands to her mouth, but was silent. She nodded for him to continue.

"After running for so long, one night stood out. I was in Rome. Have you ever been to Rome- no, no, you haven't. It is the most beautiful place. I went to see a building site. There, I found the master mason examining the day's work. He saw me, we talked, and somehow, I managed to get myself an apprenticeship. I stayed with him, learned his trade. But I think he was glad to have an apprentice. For he was lonely."

"Then, one summer, his niece came in. She was beautiful. She was always seeking me out. I believe that the mask drew her to me. I tried to avoid her. As my mother had hated me, I knew that she would hate what was under the mask. As the summer drew to a close, still Luciana – for that was her name – showed no inclination to return to her native Catania. I had fled to the roof to escape from her prying gaze. Eventually, as fate would have it, she found me gazing over the beautiful city. She demanded that I remove my mask. Giovanni came up to the stairs, and I breathed a sigh of relief. He would understand that I couldn't do that. But his curiosity overweighed his sympathy on the subject of my face. He told me that it was overdue. I was forced to relent to their demands. As I removed the mask and faced Luciana, she went white with terror. All the blood had left her face. For a scant moment I believed that, while it is human nature to be repulsed by my face, for it is distorted to an extend where it looks nothing human, that she wished she wasn't. That although her body was repulsed, her mind understood, and she didn't care. That she held her screams for she wished to show that it was all right. I was wrong. She recovered her voice and released a blood-curdling shriek."

"She ran. She ran awful close to the edge of the villa. The plaster began to crumple beneath her feet. Another scream graced her lips, then she fells to the street below. I never looked down. I ran from Giovanni."

"I traveled as a magician. I would use my skills as a ventriloquist, and then show them my face. It paid well. Yet I hated it. Riches and skill are nothing without pride. I was well heard of. The Shah of Persia heard of my exploits. He sent the Daroga, Nadir, the man you had met, earlier. He brought me. I was to be the khanum's magician. Her mind was something of a nightmare. She ordered me to bring death. And death I brought her. I was known as "The Angel of Death"."

"She gave me… A slave girl. I was to do with her, as I liked. I gave her the choice of one night with myself, or death. She chose death. It seems all I could do to women was to kill them. Without touching them."

"Eventually I proved too powerful. I designed an elaborate palace for the Shah. He knew I could share his secrets with others. A warrant for my arrest was ordered. The Daroga was ordered to carry it out. Instead he helped me escape, under the condition I was not to kill again. I stayed on his conscience."

"Once out of Persia, I came here. I helped Garnier to design the Opera House. During the revolution I hide here, under the lake. After it was complete, I meet you. I tutored you under the guise of an angel. Little did I know that the roles were reversed." Erik went silent, unwilling to disturb the dust of the past.

"What of the man, Joseph Buquet?" Christine asked. That was the only murder she knew of. She had guessed that he had done horrid things in his past but she never guessed that he was an assassin. He still amazed her. She still loved him.

"Joseph Buquet had fallen into the torture chamber. As I was not present at the time, he killed himself. Il Muto presented a perfect opportunity to strike fear in the managers and to rid my home of his corpse. Disgusting, I know. At least he was given a proper funeral." Erik shrugged his shoulders.

"Erik," Christine's voice was soft, afraid.

"Yes, Christine?" Erik's voice was equally soft.

"I sometimes, I used to think, alone in my bed. I'd think about how I'd like to die... but never, in any of my fantasies, have I imagined dying in the cellars of the Opera house, in a hidden house on a lake." Christine turned to him, and laid her head on his shoulder. She sighed in contentment as his arms slipped around her.

"Yes... I'm sorry for that..." Erik's voice was sad.

"No Erik, don't be. What more can I ask for than to die in the arms of the man I love?" Christine turned her face up to his, put his mask aside, kissed him, and smiled.

As and they lay, entwined in each other's arms Christine could feel their hearts slowing down, to a rate where they began to pound as one. Their chests rose and fell together.

And as Erik's breathing and pulse slowed to a stop, she kissed him one last time. And she looked at his unmasked cheek and smiled. She saw Erik, in peace, as he should have been.

His face was perfect, a reflection of the state of his repented soul.