Christmas is here, woohoo!

And here is the new chapter.

Long Live Phantom!

Chapter Eleven: "The Country Manor" Part Four

August 16, 1867

Dear Angel of Music,

Today the doctor said that there is nothing more to be done for Sister Monica. He said that now the rest was in God's hands. After the doctor left, we gathered around Sister Monica's bed and we all joined hands and said "The Lord's Prayer."

My Heart aches, Angel. I am so tired of losing those I love. But like Mother Superior said, "God's will be done."

I just feel so helpless and angry. Oh, please, Angel, I need you so much… I need you. Please come to me.

I won't lose hope - there is always hope. There has to be.

Lovingly,

Christine Daee

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

His face - Christine could hardly believe; she had never seen anything like that. His face looked like a skull; the skin appeared dead and stretched so thinly over his cheekbones and forehead that the bones and the veins were visible behind the translucent skin, and the bones were jabbing and poking against the skin. And his nose - his nose was almost nonexistent. It was as if she were looking at the face of a corpse.

"You little fool!" Erik snarled as he lunged at her.

The mask fell from her hand, colliding with a soft thump on the floor. The scream that had been forming in Christine's throat erupted as she tried to scamper away from him, horrified, only to trip and fall backwards, her dress spreading around her legs in chaotic folds of silk.

Erik loomed over her, an ugly sneer on his lips. As his hands moved toward her, Christine instinctively raised her arms before her face in a defensive posture as if she thought he was going to strike her. That action enraged Erik all the more and cut through him so deeply that he literally ached. He had been nothing but kind to her but now, after seeing his face, she had immediately assumed that he was a monster- as his face would seem to suggest - and that he was going to hit her.

"You stupid fool" he hissed, grabbing her arms and removing them from before her face "Look at me!" he roared, his face hovering a few inches from hers. "You wanted to see. Look!"

Christine cried out, trying to break free from his grip.

"I'm a handsome fellow, aren't I?" Erik said mockingly, bringing Christine's cold, trembling hands to his face as she continued to cry and struggle against his grip and her eyes, all the while, remained tightly shut. But the instant her hands touched his face and she felt the cold, dead skin beneath her fingers, her eyes snapped open in horror and another scream flew from her throat

Seeing the horror and the shock in her eyes brought Erik back to his senses and deflated his anger somewhat. He abruptly released her wrists and she fell back, hugging her knees and burying her face in her arms.

In the silence that followed, the only sounds that could be heard were Erik's labored breathing, Christine's weeping, and the ticking of the clock.

Erik bent down and picked up his mask, feeling a pain so keen and deep, like nothing he had experienced before. Why her horror hurt him more than anything else was beyond his comprehension. Had he come to care for her so deeply that her reaction mattered so much to him? He was a fool, Erik thought. He shouldn't have allowed himself to care for her.

Putting the mask back on, he watched the shudders that wracked Christine's shoulders and body for a moment, feeling a twinge of guilt and anger. She was huddled on the floor, weeping. Kneeling down on one knee, he brought his hand to her shoulder. The instant his fingers brushed her shoulder, she flinched away, her eyes flying upward to his, wide with shock and fear. Erik's hand fell at his side. He clenched his teeth, his temper escalating again. He had to get out, to think, to calm down.

"I'm going out for a while. Do not attempt to leave or escape. We both know how futile and foolish your running away would be, don't we?" he threatened in that calm, menacing voice of his.

Christine paled even more if that were possible. This was not the man she had come to know. Or had she ever known him? she wondered. There was no hint of any emotion in his eyes or demeanor, only cruelty and coldness. She shivered. Everything was still too much for her to comprehend. Everything had happened so quickly; it was still a haze in her mind.

Through tearful eyes, she watched blurrily as he stood from beside her and walked out of the room.

The door slammed shut.

Christine's heart missed a beat. Had he locked her in the house? She quickly scampered to her feet, her heart thrumming in her chest, and ran to the front door. She clasped the handle and turned it and the door opened. Christine's relief was so great that her knees almost buckled beneath her.

She closed the door just as quickly and slid down its length to the floor. Why hadn't he locked the door? More confusing than that, why hadn't he locked her in her room?

Erik had warned her not to try running away. He knew that his house was in the middle of nowhere. With nothing but wilderness surrounding her, it would probably take her hours to reach the nearest town, if she knew her way that was. Since she really wasn't sure where she was, she might get lost and die trying to find her way. Christine realized that he had locked her in much more effectively and more bindingly than if he had used a key.

Another whimper escaped her lips as she began wiping at her tear stained cheeks. She wouldn't cry any more, she promised herself. Only thinking about what had taken place a few minutes ago brought fresh tears to her eyes. Her heart constricted in her chest. Now that she could see things more clearly, her initial shock was beginning to fade away. She had had no right to remove Erik's mask. Her behavior had been appalling, Christine realized as a wave of guilt hit her. Not just removing Erik's mask, but her reaction to his face - everything had gone so horribly wrong.

Christine cringed when she remembered his face and when she remembered her reaction to it. She had been so foolish, she thought. How could she have hurt Erik like that when he had been nothing but kind and patient with her. How could she forget, in a moment of horror, that he had protected her with his own body against the bullets at the inn a few days before? How could she have forgotten the way he had held her just the day before, when she had wept for her father's death for the first time? Or when she had wept for the convent and the friends she had lost in the fire that night. Erik had been there for her and she had failed him.

Christine rose from the carpeted floor, softening the ruffles of her skirts with shaking hands. She would apologize to Erik when he returned.

Where had he gone? Christine wished she knew.

Walking back to her room, Christine stopped a few feet short. The door to Erik's room was left half way open. Erik had always kept the door to his room locked. Curiosity… Christine shook her head softly. No. This time she would not let her curiosity get the best of her. Determined, Christine opened the door of her room and entered. Her sight instantly fell on the beautiful red rose tied with the black satin ribbon which she had found in her room last night.

Christine walked toward her bed and held the rose to her heart. Erik… he had even given her her music back. The Angel of Music…Christine whispered.

For an instant, she could see his golden gaze on her, his eyes blazing with rage and shock, but most of all, pain. Christine held the rose closer to her heart as if by doing so, she could erase her previous foolishness.

I'm so sorry…she whispered…Oh Erik, what have I done?

Turning toward the open door of her room, Christine made to walk out and go to the music room where she would wait for Erik. When he came back, she could tell him how sorry she was, that she had no excuse and maybe, just maybe he would forgive her. She couldn't lose him, too. It was just too much for her heart to bear.

Stepping out of her room, Christine closed the door to her room behind her and turned to walk down the hall with the rose clutched firmly between her fingers as if it were a rare, priceless treasure.

Her sight fell again on the door of Erik's room, slightly ajar. And her legs of their own accord followed the path.

Clutching the red rose close to her heart, Christine walked toward the door of Erik's room. The clock on the wall ticked in the silence.

Tick, tock…another step closer…tick…Christine placed her hand on the wooden door and taking a deep breath, she pushed the door wide open, determinedly…tock…and the rose fell from her hand to the floor…tick… black drapes covered the windows, diminishing the light significantly. Christine's heart froze and her breathing stopped for a moment. There was a coffin in the room…tock… and there on the wall next to the coffin lay her father's violin. Christine would know that violin case anywhere…tick…black spots danced before her eyes and she could feel her knees weaken…tock…

This is all just a nightmare, Christine thought dazedly. She whirled around numbly and ran toward the front door. She had to get out of this place.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Erik was in the mood to do murder. He held Joseph Bouquet by his collar, and slammed him against the wall.

"I know that you're the one who has been giving out information," he sneered.

"I-it's not me, Sir, I swear," the man sputtered in fear.

Erik eyes blazed behind the mask.

"Do not lie to me."

Joseph continued struggling against Erik's iron grip. He placed both hands on Erik's wrist but that only caused Erik to tighten his hold. Soon, Joseph realized with rising terror he would be strangled with the collar of his own shirt.

"Where is Phillip?" Erik asked in deadly calm.

"They-they have him," Joseph gasped breathlessly. "I swear I had nothing to do with it!"

Erik, disgusted, let go of Joseph and watched as the man fell to the ground and then struggled to get back up on his feet.

"The only reason I haven't killed you yet," Erik smirked coldly, "is because I want you to carry a message to Lucienne."

Joseph swallowed in fear and nodded.

"You tell him that the living corpse is coming for him," Erik said chillingly. "And then…" Erik allowed his voice to trail off as he brought his gloved hand up to his throat and slowly moved his index finger across his neck, a ruthless half smile twisting his lips.

Joseph paled even more, his eyes bulging out of his skull in terror.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Christine ran through shrubs and bushes, dodging branches. Escape - that was the only thought that ran through her mind.

A twig snapped beneath her feet. She could feel the soft pelts of the rain on her face.

How could she have been so stupid? she wondered. The shimmer of tears almost blinded her. She was frigid; she felt cold and empty inside. She had stupidly believed him. Now she knew better. Erik had something to do with her father's death. What other explanation could there be for her father's violin to be there.

Oh, God… Oh, God…

She kept whispering breathlessly. She had to get to the nearest town. She had to find her own way. She had to be strong. She would survive this just as she had survived everything else in her life, Christine kept repeating those words to herself.

How long had she been running, Christine wasn't sure. She kept pushing herself forward. She was thirsty and hungry and her muscles ached from exertion. She had left the house in such a panic that she hadn't thought about taking any food or water with her.

Christine slowed down for a few moments. She had to get some rest, only for a few minutes she told herself. She didn't want to collapse. She wanted to get to the nearest town as soon as possible. Slowing down, she leaned against a tree, trying to catch her breath.

Drip, drip, drip, the rain increased. Christine was drenched from head to toe. Why did bad things have to happen always at once. Just that morning the sky was blue and yet now it was gray and dark.

Christine forced herself forward; she had to find shelter or spend the rest of the day under the rain, get pneumonia and die in these woods. Suddenly the idea of death didn't seem so bad to her. In that moment she would have given anything for that peace.

"Running away I see," his voice floated around her.

Christine froze in her tracks and her face drained of all color. He stood several feet away from her, tall, dark, and menacing.

"Erik," she breathed.

"I recall to have warned you against running away," he added silkily. "Perhaps I should resort to locking you in your room when I am out of the house. Would you like that, Christine?"

Christine gritted her teeth as anger, frustration, confusion and hurt surged through her. How could he have done this to her and now he was playing games with her! Christine was beyond outraged.

"I hate you!" she shouted angrily, her voice shaking with emotion. Rage took control of her sensible side and she didn't care anymore. "I saw my father's violin in your room. I don't care what you do. But I will not go back with you!"

Her hands turned to fists at her sides. She stood there facing him, brave and determined. The rain continued to fall. Her eyes were filled with hurt and rage and her breathing became more excruciating with every passing moment.

Erik observed her for a moment, silently admiring her courage. Then, without saying a word, and before Christine had time to react, Erik grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder, without hurting her. His arm wrapped around the back of her knees to steady her.

Christine gasped in shock.

"Put me down!" she squeaked, furious as she had never been before.

When he didn't make a move to let her go, Christine began hitting her fists against his back. He continued walking as if nothing was hitting him, as if he were carrying nothing.

"Put me down!" she cried

Erik dumped her unceremoniously atop Cesar and swung up in the saddle behind her, wrapping his arm around her waist.

"No!" she cried again. "I'm not going back! I'm not!"

Erik urged Cesar back toward his house. All the while Christine struggled against his grip. His arm was like an iron vice around her waist, unmovable and yet surprisingly gentle.

He didn't say a word or make any move as she continued to struggle, trying to pull herself away from him, trying to remove his arm from around her waist. He didn't seem to be paying her any attention, as if her struggles were nothing.

Looking up at him, Christine said in the strongest tone she could muster: "Did you not hear me. I'm not going back with you! Let me go!"

She twisted in the saddle putting both her hands against his chest and trying to push herself away from him.

"Stop that," he ordered coolly. "You are coming back with me," he stated in a factual tone, which rang with finality. "And once we're back at the house, we will discuss the matter of your father's violin."

"I do not want to discuss anything with you! Let me go!" Christine retorted angrily, her blue eyes stormy with anger and beginning to fill with tears.

Had the situation not been so serious, Erik would have found it somewhat humorous. And yet somewhere deep inside of him, he was relieved beyond words. She hadn't run away because she was afraid of his face. She had run away because of the discovery of her father's violin.

Christine had given him the most beautiful gift of all, the gift of hope, and the beauty of the light. And now, holding her in his arms, Erik realized something else, something very important. He would never let her go. He loved her.

And the rain continued to fall…