A/N: Here is the next chapter that all of you have been asking for. It's rather short, but I promise that the next one will be a good one.
Disclaimer: As usual, we don't own these characters. For anyone who hasn't read Phantom by Susan Kay, the little spider belongs to her.
NightDemoness and satinzevi89: Wow, what screen names. : ) Thanks so much for the reviews. You keep them coming and we'll keep the chapters coming…. Actually, we'll keep them coming anyway, but we do so love to get reviews, so please keep reading and reviewing. Christine4ever86 and I love you all.
Chapter Eight
Even a Spider
I had no doubt that Christine needed to be alone, as she had said, yet I was still hesitant to allow her to be alone just yet. She had been so frightened a few minutes before. Repeatedly, I reminded myself that she was fine, she wanted to be by herself right now, and my presence would not be at all welcome in her room at the moment. However, I could not feel at ease enough to enjoy my breakfast without her. I picked distractedly at the food for a short time, eating just enough to pacify my meager appetite.
When I had finished, I stood and began to clean the kitchen. I saved Christine's plate, hoping that she would reappear from the comforting recess of her room, but she did not. In time, I gave up on that idea. Sighing with an intense frustration, which was threatening to give way to anger at any moment, I shoved her meal into the icebox and slammed the door.
As there seemed to be nothing else for me to do, I returned to my organ and picked up where I left off on the piece that I had been working on that morning while Christine prepared our breakfast. I played on, and gradually, the cloud of despair began to lift from me. Soft, gentle melody and harmonies flowed around me as my fingers danced lightly over the keys. This was exactly what I needed.
A sweet tune greeted my ears as I stepped out of my room. Erik's back was turned to me, and for a moment I listened in silence, a gentle smile playing on my lips. It was heavenly. The organ seemed to have a voice itself as the melody curled and danced beautifully throughout the cavern. Even though he remained silent, his spirit sang through the music, reaching out to touch my soul. If I stood any longer, I would become totally enraptured and my father would be forgotten.
"Erik..." I walked softly over to him, unsure if I should disturb his reverie. He swung around on the organ bench and answered me with his eyes. For a moment I lost my breath. His eyes were shimmering, full of that strange light. Fighting back the feelings that were awakening inside me, I spoke. "I want… I need to visit my father's grave." I was slightly afraid he wouldn't let me go. "Please Erik, I need to go. You can come… I'm not saying you can't. But… I've been away for too long. Please Erik." I struggled to calm my beating heart as I searched his eyes for an answer.
My lips turned slowly upward as I looked at her. My breathing was coming quite heavily, and I knew the reason for that very well. These feelings were becoming extremely familiar to me, yet somehow they seemed new with their every reoccurrence. Each time that I saw Christine in a new dress, this happened to me. I was mesmerized, entranced by feelings that I seemed to have never experienced before. She had my heart in the palm of her hand.
I swallowed thickly and then nodded.
"Yes Christine, you may go. Anything that makes you happy, my love." My hands trembled slightly as I rose, taking a step toward her, my heart hammering at an unbelievable speed. "If you will allow me one moment, I will escort you."
She nodded her silent acquiescence, and in a short time we were seated side by side in a carriage on our way to the graveyard where her father was buried. A flesh-colored mask covered most of my face. I could not wear the white half-mask when I went out in the light of day. That one raised suspicion, but this one did not. Really, it looked almost natural from a distance, particularly in the shadow of the hooded cloak which I wore.
I stared wordlessly out the window for several minutes, allowing my mind to drift to the last time that Christine and I had made a trip to the same cemetery.
She did not know then that I had accompanied her. I recalled the sorrow in her sweet eyes as she gazed upon her beloved father's grave. I relived the joys of the glorious sound of our voices blending in perfect harmony as we sang together, as I beckoned for her to return to me. And then there was the boy; his memory haunted me as it disturbed Christine's dreams. That impudent, fool-hardy viscount had rushed in, playing the part of the gallant knight coming to rescue his lady. He had warned her to come away with him, had said that I was not her father nor her friend and helper. There had been a clash of swords… my near victory… his near death… a slip of the hand… a sharp blow, and I was on the ground, my sword out of reach. I had not had nearly the practice that I should have to engage in that kind of battle. After all, there was no one with which I could regularly try my skills with the blade. He depended upon his schooling and I upon speed, strength, and natural skill. To the boy it was merely a gentleman's sport, which he now used in an attempt at ridding himself and his love of the one whom he took for their greatest enemy. I had been so certain that he would be the one to falter, yet my dexterity was no match for his training. I looked up at him in defiance. Good, he would kill me and my suffering would be over at last. His sword was raised, ready to strike when Christine called out to him: "No Raoul! No… not like this…."
At the time, my wounded pride had brought on such hatred that I did not consider the implications of that plea. But now my mind was filled with questions. Christine had saved my life, but why? Could this mean that she cared for me, even then? Dare I hope that even in the midst of her terror she did not want me to die… and she did not truly wish for me to leave her?
Slowly, I turned to face her, looking searchingly into her deep blue eyes. Then I asked the question that was plaguing my mind and heart:
"Why did you do it?" She looked at me, perhaps a bit startled by my sudden question, and entirely perplexed. I realized then that she had no idea what I was talking about, and I explained my inquiry. "Christine, you could have been rid of me long ago. That morning in the graveyard… the viscount might have killed me. If you don't mind my asking, why did you stop him?"
His question took me completely by surprise. Wide-eyed, I stared at the hem of my sleeve, feeling myself growing hot and cold by turns. I did not know myself why I had called out to Raoul. Closing my eyes, I could still vividly feel the anxiety I experienced when both of them were fighting. I could see it all so very clearly….
I was too much in shock a first to be frightened. It was all unreal. The two men who I knew earnestly loved me were fighting with all they had, dodging the stone grave markers, and meeting each blow with a well-placed block. As I watched them, I didn't know who I should fear for. Raoul I loved with all I had… but… the other man held a strange place in my heart. Terrified, I followed them around the cemetery, watching their every move. I almost shrieked in rage when Raoul was cut sharply on the arm. It was all I could do to keep myself under control. Then, my heart stopped, as I realized Erik was lying on the ground, his sword well out of reach. I froze as Raoul raised his sword to give a final blow, and without stopping to think, I cried out, "No Raoul! No… not like this..." I had watched Erik as we rode away. His eyes had grown black with hate. All the way back to the Opera, I had questioned myself on why I had stopped Raoul. In full possession of my reason, I knew I would have been better off if I had said nothing.
For a while, that morning in the cemetery haunted my thoughts. Why had I done what I did? Though I tried to push the thoughts away, they always loomed in back of my mind, and I knew I would have to face them one day.
Now I was facing them, and I was headed back to where the haunting questions began. I looked again into Erik's wonderfully dark eyes and tried to find the answer in those rich spheres…. But no answer came save the same tingling sensation that always ran down my spine when our eyes met.
"I don't know," I answered truthfully. "I was so scared that morning. I don't know why I stopped Raoul." I took a breath as the thought of the man I loved sent an acute pain to my heart. "I didn't know who I was really afraid for. While you were fighting in hate for one another, I was fighting my own battle of love in my heart. I don't know why I called out…. But I have the feeling that I will know why very soon."
That was certainly not the answer I was looking for. My brow furrowed as I bowed my head in silent contemplation. A familiar look of anguish had been in her eyes, and I could not bear to look at her. It was the look that meant that she was thinking of Raoul de Chagny. I had seen that look often when Christine was with me, although for the past week either she had done an excellent job of hiding it, or she did not think of him often. I liked to think that the latter was true.
Sighing pensively, I stared down at my abnormally long fingers. You are a fool, Erik, I thought to myself. And I thought that you had gotten past these false hopes. Christine does not love you. She did not save your life out of love. It was an act of kindness… pity…. She is a sweet, compassionate girl who could not bear to see even a spider killed. When I was a child, I used to imagine that I was a spider….
Receding back into the far corner of the brougham and crossing my arms beneath the black folds of my cloak, I allowed my thoughts to wander. Christine had said that she would know very soon why she had saved my life. I wondered how she could be so certain of that fact. I looked at her again. Perhaps she really was falling in love with me…. Perhaps she knew it.
My mind had drifted miles away, to thoughts of Christine and what wonders our future might hold, when my eyelids began to grow heavy. The week of Christine's nightmares and little sleep for either of us was wearing on me as well. Before I could stop myself, I was fast asleep. I dreamed, as I used to do as a very little boy, that I was a spider, a black, particularly ugly spider, and extremely venomous.
I sat quietly in a dark corner, looking over my carefully woven web, awaiting my prey. Then it came… the viscount, appearing to me as a helpless little fly. He glanced about cautiously, and then seeing nothing flew directly into my trap. Deftly, I slid along the silken threads. In less than a minute, I had him wrapped tightly in sticky string. With one bite, he was paralyzed. I looked down at him with an oppressive smirk—or the closest thing to that expression that a spider may give—gloating over his defenselessness. It was time for my feast…. And when I had finished gorging myself, Christine came by and saw me. "What a good little spider you are, Erik," she said, reaching up into my web. "You got rid of that nasty fly for me." As venomous as my bite was, she knew that I would never harm her. And with one finger, she stroked me fondly like a beloved pet….
Slightly alarmed, I watched as Erik's eyes grew a turbulent black. He moved away from me, brooding. What had I said to make him react in such a manner? I opened my mouth to question his actions, but then I realized that he must have known that I was thinking about Raoul. I became indignant. What right had he to make such a fuss? Of course I would think about Raoul. I loved him. Yet here Erik was, acting offended. I slid to the opposite end of the long seat, let out an annoyed sigh, and stared out the window.
For a while my thoughts whirled around restlessly as I watched the passing buildings and occasional trees. A twinge of regret pricked my conscience. I was acting like a child, pouting when things didn't go as I wanted them to. I had hoped to enjoy the ride, not spend it in seclusion. Turning, I took a peek at Erik. His head rested against the wall of the brougham, and his rhythmic breathing revealed that he was sleeping.
He must be exhausted from waking up every night for me. A sad smile played on my lips. He loved me. I could never doubt that for a second. He was working his way into my heart. The fact that I no longer hated him proved that point. I didn't love him… that was too strong of a word… though, I could… might… possibly… say I was growing fond of him. I had to admit this to myself, even if it brought a shock to my senses. Shutting my eyes, I tried to imagine life without Erik. This was something my father taught me. He said if I ever wanted to know what my heart really felt about someone, I was to imagine life without them. I found that many things would have never happened had Erik not existed. I might not have come to know and love Raoul the way I did now. Raoul had seen me sing the night of the gala… and I wouldn't have been singing had it not been for Erik. I tried to imagine life without Raoul…. That I could not do either. I couldn't live without either of these men.
Unconsciously, I had slipped my arm around Erik's arm, and was leaning against him. What am I to do? I let my mind wander as I stroked his hand gently. I felt like I was being torn in two…. But I loved Raoul, not Erik, didn't I? That fact that I was slightly unsure of myself appalled me. I should know. I shouldn't be questioning myself. I let my thoughts wander on, hoping that an answer would come soon.
