Stolen

Chapter 8: Lointain Nuages
translation: Distant Clouds

A/N: I know I left y'all off with the most evil of all cliffhangers in the last chapter, so here is chapter eight. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: No yo tengo Fantasma.

Previously:

"Christine, do you love me?"


Christine's throat locked up, and she could not breathe for a number of seconds.

Her face was as pale as- well, as pale as a phantom's.

"Erik," she finally managed once she could speak. "Erik, I - I don't - I cannot -" She stuttered, feeling utterly hopeless and desperate. She knew that she could not avoid answering Erik's question. But how, how could she answer him?

She tried once more, saying something – anything - that her mind could produce.

"I don't know how to answer you, Erik, because if I do answer your question I - I don't really think that… I don't know if -"

And her words were cut off when a pair of lips crushed against hers.

At first, she did not try to push him away.

At first, she kissed him back.

She did not want to pull away, or scream, or stop. She wanted to feel what she was feeling - passion, love, fire, and bliss - forever.

But within seconds, she was pushing Erik away, gasping and screaming against all of the emotions that were brewing inside of her.

"Erik!" She shrieked. "How could you have done such a -"

"Tell me you didn't feel something!" Erik demanded, his eyes ablaze. "Tell me that, Christine! Did you not want me? Did you not feel anything? Did I feel like some cold, heartless statue or a rotting carcass? Was kissing me like kissing death itself, Christine, was it?! Tell me, Christine; honestly tell me if you didn't feel -"

"I felt something, Erik, ok!" Christine shouted furiously over Erik's voice, surprising the both of them.

At that moment, after Christine had declared this, it was more silent and stiller than it had ever been in this house.

"I felt something," she mumbled in a hopeless tone. "I did feel something, Erik – I wanted to kiss you. I wanted to hold you and stay with you for all eternity in that very second that our lips touched."

Erik's heart nearly gave out at that very second, and he could hardly believe what he was hearing. He had never loved her more than he did now.

"Then answer my question," He finally said. "Do you love me?"

Christine's eyes were brimming with tears, and she did not know the exact reason why.

"Yes." She whispered, so inaudibly that Erik could only tell what she was saying by the movement of her lips.

But she was not finished.

And what she would say next could break Erik.

"But I love him more."

Christine waited to see his reaction. He knew – he should have known – that she loved Raoul more than him. Her choice must have shown him that. But since that dreadful night, might he have convinced himself otherwise? Erik was a genius; there was no doubt about that. But a genius such as him is commonly engulfed in his own madness, madness that can take control of the mind and twist and contort things. And geniuses usually believe their madness.

"Yes."

That was all Erik said. And then he nodded.

Christine saw a sort of mistiness in his eyes, and then a knowing look appeared.

He did know.

"Thank you, my dear, for answering my question." Erik said sincerely.

Christine nodded as something returned to her.

I will give you anything you wish, so long as you answer my question.

There was something she wanted so badly. She had wanted this since the day she left the Opera House, forbidden to return. Her heart yearned for it, and her soul was slowly crumbling without it. And Erik was the only person who could give this to her.

"Erik, I want you to take me to the Opera House."

"What?"

"I want you to take me to the Opera House. You said I could have anything I wished for if I answered your question. Your question has been answered, Erik. I wish to return to the Opera House."

Erik didn't know which was more shocking – the fact that Christine actually wanted to return to the Opera House, after all that had occurred there, or the fact that she did not want to leave him – at least, not yet.

"I miss it, Erik. I miss everything about it; ballet rehearsals while dancing alongside Meg, exploring the empty corridors late at night, singing to the angel of music in my sleep…" Erik noticed that she spoke of her 'angel of music' as if he were an entirely different person than himself.

Erik's first immediate thought was no, absolutely not. But then he wondered… why not? Surely he could remain anonymous after doing so for so many years, and surely Christine could do so as well. What harm was there in returning to the place? Yes, there would be some pain in the memories of that night, but he could sacrifice that for Christine. And Erik could see the longing in her eyes, and in the way she spoke.

Yes, he thought.

Yes.

"We will return," he declared.

Christine's came alive at that moment, more alive than she had been in months.

"Oh, Erik, thank you, thank you, thank you!" She exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. "You have no idea how much this means to me! Oh, I simply cannot wait!" She subconsciously stood on her toes and hugged Erik out of pure excitement, and then withdrew quickly after realizing what she had done.

He had frozen at her touch.

She tried hiding her embarrassment, and he quickly recovered, appearing unaffected. But the thoughts within his head were entirely contradictory of his actions.

"But I do have conditions, Christine." He told her slowly, his voice steady (with much effort).

"Of course," she replied, still brimming with delight. Erik could not resist smiling a little at this point. Her animation and liveliness pleased him.

"Well we obviously must remain unidentified." Erik said. Christine nodded, expecting that much. "And that does include not visiting with any occupants of the Opera House… including little Meg Giry and Madame."

"Oh, I haven't seen either of them in ages!" Christine mused. "But, I understand why, of course… they would get suspicious…" She tried not to show her disappointment.

"Exactly," Erik agreed. "And I assume you wish to view a performance. Is Box Five suitable for such viewing?"

"Box Five…" Christine murmured, lost in memories – both haunting and pleasant. She remembered seeing a dark, cloaked figure, and singing for him. But she also remembered the tears that brimmed in Raoul's eyes from Box Five as she sung with her angel.

She snapped back into the present, nodding. "Yes, we should watch a performance from Box Five."

Erik nodded, though he had something else on his mind that was gnawing at him, something imperative to his final decision of going to the Opera House or not.

"Christine, would there, perhaps, be any chance that the Vicomte would be at the Opera House?" Erik asked slowly.

Christine raised an eyebrow, and then knitted the two together.

"Oh no," she replied, shaking her head promptly. "No, Raoul would never return to the Opera Populaire, not in a million years… He forbade me from returning – from singing ever agai –"

She was immediately interrupted by Erik's booming voice which was full of anger and hatred.

"He forbade you from singing?!" Erik bellowed, outraged. "That idiot! That self-centered, appalling, undeserving, stupid, egotistical idiot!"

Christine was silenced, waiting for Erik to finish and calm his temper. He breathed heavily and dug his fingers into his knuckles, which Christine knew would have bled if it weren't for his gloves.

"Erik," she began softly. "He was only trying to forget the past, and start over."

Erik nodded slowly, trying not to argue with Christine. It was not her he was angry with. But it was Raoul whose neck he wanted to grab and strangle at that second. That fop was ridiculously lucky that distance separated Erik's Punjab lasso from his neck.

"I realize that, Christine," Erik finally said, much more composed than before. "But I am your Angel of Music, and your Angel knows that you simply cannot stop singing. You were given a voice, Christine, a voice that I made what it is now. And you cannot ever forget that."

Christine just stared at Erik for a few seconds.

And then she was crying, falling into a stunned Erik's chest.

"I never wanted to stop!" She wailed. "But – but he would not let me sing, Angel! Oh, how I miss it so! Angel, let me sing with you, please! Let me sing!" Christine was in hysterics. She was a child now, and Erik was her Angel of Music.

Erik carefully lifted and dried her tears with his gloved hands.

"You will never be prohibited to sing, Christine, not ever again."

At that minute, Christine loved her Angel more than anyone else.

"But now, I have a small favor to ask of you." Erik requested, wearing a slight smile on his face. Christine couldn't help but smile as well.

"Of course, anything," She said, laughing at the sudden change in mood that Erik could always somehow generate. Her façade of him being her Angel of Music suddenly disappeared, and he was Erik once again.

"Will you accompany me on a picnic?"

Me… accompanying Erik on a picnic.

The thought of it nearly boggled Christine, yet she answered yes almost too quickly.


"Christine, you must learn to trust me."

She had been munching on a grape, and then paused as soon as Erik had spoken.

"What do you mean?" Christine asked timidly, averting her eyes from his, though she felt them piercing right through her.

Erik sighed, and then stood from the soft blanket that the two of them had been sitting on. He was still wearing his gloves and cape, though it was a beautiful day and signs of spring were beginning to show. He paced upon the dew-covered grass as he gathered his thoughts.

Christine and Erik were having a picnic behind the house, atop a hilly spot in the grass that showcased a marvelous view of a pond. Erik remembered swimming in the pond often as a child, although his mother had forbidden him to do so.

Christine watched small waves roll across the pond with the wind, suddenly having a longing to swim in the peaceful water. But winter was still lingering in the air, and the water would be icy cold.

"I cannot have you living in fear of me." Erik finally said, speaking opposite of her. "You must learn to trust me."

She listened to him, and tried to think that she eventually could.

How? Christine all that had occurred, trust seemed to be something as distant as the clouds above.

"Do you think you can, Christine? Trust me, that is?" Erik only wanted to see if there was a possibility in her mind. He knew that there was, but she had to believe it to make it possible.

The harmlessness in his voice allowed Christine to answer him truthfully, one of the few times she felt safe talking openly to him.

"Erik, it seems impossible to trust someone who can be gentle and kind to me one minute, and then be the complete opposite the next. I never know how you will react to something I say, or if I will anger you by doing something. I don't think that living this way is appropriate either."

Christine gazed at the clear sky above her, trying to imagine living in such harmony and content. It seemed as though the first few years of her life were the only lived in pure bliss, with her father and her music, and nothing else. Not even with Raoul had she been truly happy.

"What if I told you that I would try and control my temper? Then would I be able to gain your trust?"

If… if such a thing were possible – Erik controlling his temper – then…

"If you did learn to do that, then I suppose so," Christine answered truthfully. She knew that the probability of this was unlikely, but she decided to give Erik a chance. After all, sometimes a chance was all somebody really needed.

And perhaps the clouds really weren't that far away.

Both ate the small meal that Erik had prepared in silence. Two sets of eyes stared at something faraway, and their thoughts danced in the distance.

Angel of Music,
I denied you!
Turning from true beauty!
Angel of Music!
My protector!
Come to me strange Angel…

Had she really wanted her Angel at that time? Had she surrendered, once and for all?

Christine wondered endlessly of this cold time at the cemetery. If Raoul had not come for her, would she have ended up as broken as she was now?

"Erik, I wish to sing with you."

He snapped out of the distant world he was in, focusing his attention only on Christine.

"Now?"

"Now."

Erik nodded. "Very well, Christine, if it is your wish."

And their voices intertwined together, carried off by the wind to somewhere unknown.