A/N: Alrighty. So, you might have to suspend your disbelief in parts of this chapter but I hope you like it. I'm super exicted by the amount of reviews and so if I get SIX REVIEWS for this chapter, I'll not only post Chapter 12 but also the one-shot I've been working on. Excited? I AM!
BTW, Princess of Love and Hate, have I mentioned how awesome your reviews are? Keep your MargotxErik flag up, it'll get better soon.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
…it is probably best to address here that I know your Viscount has told you what happened and what he did to protect you. While I do my best not to think of it, I know that you love him in spite of his flaws and now I must ask that you cast a similar light of understanding upon Erik and how it all unfolded that night.
I did not see the opera Don Juan Triumphant but I heard later how scandalous it was, how it was essentially a seduction in song. It did not surprise me, as I'll explain, because what you saw was Erik at his worst. Can you imagine your Viscount or yourself in a similar situation? Tormented by love for someone who fell for another? Being rejected at every turn but desperate to gain even one of their affectionate glances?
By the time Don Juan Triumphant occurred, Erik was at his lowest point; his opera and subsequent behaviour was a direct reflection of his need for you, solnyshka. It has been a long time but recently, the dear Phantom has admitted his misgivings regarding that particular piece and I hope you may see that what you say that night, was not the true Erik that I knew.
But enough of that. I suppose your real question is how I came to be in the catacombs that night and the answer is most unexpected…
Winter, 1871
La Patisserie des Renault
Paris, France
"Let me out!" Margot called, hoarsely from her corner of the basement. The building was a bakery that the Viscount had been using to plan his attack on the Populaire, since the opera house was not a safe place to plot such things.
It was also why she was being kept there, away from the Phantom's eyes and ears. Though, Margot thought miserably as she pulled at her iron cuffs once again, Erik may not care anymore. He had accused her of working with the Viscount, wanting him to ride away with Christine when all Margot wanted to do was give the pompous pridurok a sound beating with her stupid cuffs.
And yet, with the thin floors of the bakery, Margot had to listen each day leading up to opening night of how Raoul planned to bar the exits and use Christine as bait to capture the Phantom.
Erik, she was confident, could dispose of all manner of things but the sheer number of police Raoul brought with him amazed and worried her. She dearly wished to warn him of the intricate details of the plot but Raoul would not risk allowing one of the Phantom's spies to run free with opening night upon them. Madame Giry was permitted since she was aiding the attacking guards but Margot, having been made to write a false letter to Christine, was sure that no one knew of her imprisonment.
She hated the Viscount de Chagny with a vengeance for what he had done to her in the name of protecting Christine but even more for what he planned to do to Erik, the monster of the Opera who deserved 'death and more' as Raoul put it. Margot feared for the man in the mask who had been her friend and the only man she'd ever loved, even though he clearly wanted nothing to do with her.
"Let me out!" Margot moaned again, futilely. As the sunlight began to dim from the crack beneath the basement door, Margot listened intently for any sign that they might let her out. Opening night had come quickly and now every man, including the pair stationed to keep her inside, was needed for Raoul's witch hunt. But there was no sign of what Raoul intended to do with her, if anything. She was sure he did not intend to hurt her; no, his ridiculous honour as a nobleman commanded that he treat her fairly and his love for Christine would not permit him to kill his fiancée's surrogate older sister. "Let me out you svolochi!"
Margot listened for any kind of response but as it grew noisier with the sounds of carriages and horses and laughter, she knew the opera had began and having locked the door, there was likely no one to hear her calls. After throwing herself at the door leading to freedom without success for nearly an hour after the opera was sure to have begun, Margot settled on the ground, helpless and did something she had not done in earnest since she was a little girl: she prayed.
God in heaven, please help Erik, she prayed, feeling useless. He needs guidance and salvation; he's so lonely and he's pinned his hopes on Christine who will simply break his heart. Please Lord, grant him the strength to stop now. Grant him peace at last-
Footsteps.
Margot froze and listened as they drew closer and closer to the door and she scrambled away from it, just in case it was a policeman come to retrieve her. But as the key- which Margot had realised when she could not peek out was still in the lock on the other side-began to turn in the lock and the door swung open, the figure on the other side could not have surprised Margot more.
At nearly the same time, Erik prepared to take Piangi's place, the fat, greedy tenor already in a collapsed pile of meat and bones behind him as he slipped his mask into place and took to the stage.
It is time, he thought, beginning the seductive ballad, his tall form entering the stage slowly as he marvelled at the sheer number of people in the theatre, all entranced by his opera. They could pretend all they liked, Erik mused as he called to Christine's beautiful voice to join his, but even the stuffy upper crust of society were bewitched by the carnal imagery and powerful lust the song provoked.
"I have brought you, that our passions may fuse and merge," he sang, his voice carrying out over the theatre. Yes Christine, he thought wildly watching as her eyes grew half lidded, totally entranced by the lust he was expressing through his song. Now is the time, come join me, my Angel of Music.
As he had always known she would, Christine was the perfect offset to his music; her dulcet tones were the perfect balance to the raw power beneath his voice and as they climbed the prop platform that stretched across the stage, Erik could feel every moment he had been waiting for coming to fruition.
He through all he had left into his music, revelling in the moment when Christine fell into his arms, greedily running his hands across her body, right in front of her ridiculous fiancé and the unfathomably rich audience of Don Juan Triumphant.
Christine rolled her head backward, arching into him, completely enthralled by the music. "Say you'll share with me," Erik crooned into her ear, savouring the feel of her so close, right within his grasp. "one love, one lifetime. Lead me, save me from my solitude…"
She paused suddenly, her eyes opening as she turned toward him, suddenly within his grasp and facing him, closer than she had ever been before to his monstrous visage. He unfurled his fingers and slowly revealed the gem encrusted ring he had been creating for years with her in mind. "Say you'll want me with you here, beside you…Anywhere you go, let me go too." He pleaded, gently.
He breathed her in, consumed by having her so close. "Christine that's all I ask of-"
Suddenly, her fingers which had been caressing his face suddenly clenched around the mask covering the top half of his face and Erik recoiled only to find himself entirely revealed before the audience who screamed in terror. The betrayal stung sharper than any sword and lit a fire to his anger faster than any torch.
His hands tightened on her creamy flesh as she struggled away from him and suddenly everything he had known or imagined about his Angel was torn to pieces- a child, that's what she was. She was not the woman she had thought she could be. She was not the Angel he believed could understand him. A liar, a cheat, bait for his senses, a pretender! She was the gypsy girl she had been playing; cruel and unfeeling.
His face its own mask of fury, he drew his sword and sliced through the rope secured to the platform's railing, letting the carefully constructed mechanics of the chandelier fall into chaos as Erik grabbed his false Angel's arms and let them both drop into the trap door beneath the stage.
"La Carlotta?" Margot whispered, astounded by the turn of events. The diva on the other side of the door appeared somewhat surprised but mostly triumphant at the sight of her.
"Ah, Margot, I knew you must be here!" she trilled happily, using the key in her hand to unlock her cuffs. Margot pinched herself, sure she must still be dreaming.
"Mademoiselle Carlotta, thankyou!" she blurted out, confused. "But w-what are you doing here?"
La Carlotta preened at Margot's thanks. "Everyone knows the Viscount bought this old place, cara. As for me, I was waiting for the end of my story of course! But then I noticed you had disappeared and I remembered you arguing with that horrible patron!"
Indeed, the only person Raoul had forgotten to pacify with a falsehood of Margot's whereabouts was the diva herself who, having finished her opening and only scene for the night's opera, much to her disgust, had come to exact her revenge on the patron for snubbing her all those weeks ago. The fact that Margot had not finished her story meant that her absence was keenly noticed by the otherwise self-absorbed diva.
"You see, I know what you know, Margot cara mia," Carlotta purred as she escorted Margot from the abandoned bakery.
"You do?" Margot fretted.
"Of course," La Carlotta's smile was wicked. "You know about that horrid Daae girl's affair with the Phantom!"
Things began to make less sense to Margot who felt weak as she stumbled out onto the street outside La Populaire. "Christine's affair?"
"Ma certamente!" the diva said, with glee. "She must be the Phantom's little puttana, why else would he write her an opera?"
Margot's brow furrowed as she pieced it together. "And you thought Raoul-?"
"Must be covering up his little fiancée's mess!" La Carlotta finished, happily. "I know how the Daae girl chatters on to you, Margot, mia cara, she must have confessed. That awful patron took you to silence you along with this little attack he's prepared, am I right?"
"Y-Yes, signora," Margot covered herself quickly as she turned to the Populaire. "How clever you are! In fact," she improvised wildly. "I shall go reveal the Viscount and Christine's secret now shall I?"
"What an idea!" La Carlotta's eyes sparkled as Margot took off for the theatre, her gaze spotting a water drain to the left of one of the staircases immediately as her entry. He must have taken her by now, Margot thought, panicked as she slipped through the drain's grate. She listened as screams began to echo above her and trembled in fear that Erik had been caught.
Margot splashed into the sewers clumsily but soon caught her feet on the slick stone below. All drains reach the lake, she thought to herself, trying to follow the current as it led deeper and deeper into the underbelly of the Populaire.
The screams above her grew louder before they began to fade away, almost to entirety while Margot moved ever deeper. She kept her hand kept safely resting beside her cheek, studying the path carefully when candelabras appeared, a sure sign of the Phantom's presence in these waters.
Twice, a trip wire appeared, pulling gently across her throat and arms, and she paused, her hand following the line to a pair of spikes cleverly hidden in the walls. Once she was nearly caught in one of the mechanised grates that hung from the ceiling but Margot had a lifetime of evading Erik's traps and she edged her way past this one with little worry.
In her head, she kept a steady stream of positive thoughts over Erik and the Viscount's attack: He must have evaded them, he must have. The screaming could not have gone on so long if he had been caught in the initial march and Erik does not need the doors Raoul barred, he can simply make his own-
Suddenly her musings were interrupted by shouting coming from the opposite end of the catacombs, surprising her. "Revenger for Piangi!" the familiar voices of the opera workers bellowed across the watery chambers and the torchlight began to flicker on the wall near Margot as they drew closer.
She watched with growing horror as their mismatched shadows were joined by figures armed with bayonet rifles. "The police?" Margot whispered, ducking down behind a stone corner in the water. "They weren't supposed to leave the opera house."
"Revenge for Buquet!" The opera workers roared. "He's hunted us too long!"
"He must be stopped!"
"Murderer!"
"Arsonist!"
"Monster!"
Margot lifted herself onto one of the high platforms that ran along the side of the drain way, her hands slipping on the stones as she clambered upwards. How many are there? She tried to concentrate on voices, leaning closer and closer around the corner obscuring her from view, trying to catch a peek at themob. Erik can not fight them all off…
"Look!" the high pitched tone of the ballerinas shrieked and Margot suddenly saw the quivering girl pointing straight at her. "Look over there!"
Margot reared back, plastering herself against the shadowed wall as the opera workers' noisily splashed through the water toward her. "I saw someone!"
"The Ghost?"
"Kill him!"
"No!" someone screamed, hysterically. "It was a woman! A grey lady!"
"She looked terrified!"
"So pale!"
"I saw it too! It was that girl, the one who tells us stories!" Margot's heart broke to hear the voice of one of the little ballet rats join the confusion. Children? They bring children down here? What if she gets caught in Erik's traps?
"Margot?" her Uncle's voice said, tightly. Margot barely held in her gasp. "Margot is down here?"
"I'm sure it was her!"
"Impossible, the Viscount assured me she had left!" Uncle Franck argued ferociously, sounding tense. More sounds of murmurs and confusion, growing louder as some of the braver workers drew closer. Panicking, Margot scrambled around the next corner and plunged herself into the waters, pressing close to one of the more cavernous holes in the sewer walls to hide from view.
"Where is she now then?" one of the seamstresses demanded. Margot recognised the voice as Colette; she knew her well and would have been touched by the stress in her voice, had she not been part of the murderous mob trying to kill Erik.
"The Phantom must have killed her!" the little ballerina cried out, tearfully.
"Perhaps it's her spirit come to show us the way?" a stranger suggested and the mob burst into mutterings over the theory. Her idea beginning to grow, Margot felt around, her heart pounding, for one of the loose rocks below her. Deep breaths, she told herself as she lifted the rock in her hand, rearing back to carefully throw it as far away as she could in the opposite direction to the underwater cavern.
"What was that?" someone screamed at the splash.
"It must be Margot: she must want us to find her murderer!"
No I do not want you to find him! Margot felt like screaming. I want you and the world to, for once, leave him alone in peace!
"If she is even dead!" someone scoffed.
"I know what I saw!" the ballerina defended..
"Why?" Colette asked, shocked. "Why would he kill her-?"
"Why does the Phantom kill anyone?" Uncle Franck growled, his voice agitated. "He has killed my friend, our tenor and now my niece who had never offended him!"
"He cannot be allowed to continue!"
"He must be killed! He must be stopped!"
Margot listened as they took off, following her diversion, treading right past her. She knew that despite tricking her friends and only family into thinking her dead at the Ghost's hands, when she saw the sheer amount of people chasing down the catacombs, that it had been the right thing to do.
Her heart beating faster, she continued on.
By the time she felt the slimy stone beneath her begin to level, a sure sign that she was near the subterraneous lake of Erik's home, the sounds of sobbing and shouting began to reach her ears. Margot listened carefully, feeling elated at Erik's baritone and despairing of Raoul's fierce voice shouting to free Christine, who was crying for him.
Oh Christine, Margot thought, her eyes closing automatically. She knew her solnyshka was not cut out for this place but Erik was so in need of love and affection. His Angel's understanding would have meant the world to him and instead the pair unknowingly flaunted their relationship in his own sanctuary.
"Don't throw away your life for my sake!" Raoul shouted, hopelessly as Margot listened to him struggle against something. She found the hole in the wall leading to Erik's abode from the lake and pressed against it, waiting to someone her courage to make her final move.
"When will you see reason…?" Christine pleaded as finally Margot took a deep breath and dove under the misty water into the darkened hole. Though she knew where it lead, the initial panic of the unknown made her limbs freeze up, though Margot forced herself to swim forward into the dark. It's for Erik, remember that.
Erik watched as Christine wept for her lover and felt his cold heart shatter. The only woman he had adored, the only woman who could bring his music, his soul to life, wept for another man, a man who was at the end of his rope finally.
The ridiculous fop was pinned to his iron gate, struggling to free himself using the sword he could barely reach given the restricted range of motion. He was helpless before Erik, who could snap his neck any time he liked and yet the feeling brought little satisfaction in the face of his devastation.
His Angel had been a fraud all along; Christine was not the woman he had imagined her to be, not mature enough to respect him, nor compassionate enough to understand him. All she saw was the hideousness of his face, revealed now for all of them to see, his mask laying somewhere beyond the lake.
All his plans had come to an end, all his fears realised and playing out before him. His opera house had turned against him, angered by his pranks and control. His Angel longed for the arms of another and even if she agreed to stay with him, it would mean nothing. Even cherie , his sweet, brave Margot, had left the Populaire, repulsed by his actions.
He had nothing left but his revenge against the man that had been the catalyst for it all, the handsome Viscount who now clutched his sword in one hand bound to the gate, waving it around futiley. The weapons reach had become too limited, it could no more harm to him than a feather could. Erik gritted his teeth, his mind blinded by thoughts of hatred and revenge as he prepared to snap the Viscount's puny neck-
A figure from the corner of his eyes, arising from the depths of the secret entrance near where the Viscount was bound, paused his movements.
"Margot?" Christine gasped, immediately reaching from the shores of his home for the girl who floundered, gasping in the misty waters.
In his red-tinted state, Margot's arrival made no sense- he had heard that she had left, which she had already told him she would, the Populaire for good, for some other city. To arrive here, now, was impossible and yet-
And yet one gaze did not seem surprised to find Margot Ferrand in Paris.
"You!" Raoul accused, his restrained arms reaching out just far enough to grab Margot from where she was coughing the excess water. "You helped him didn't you?"
"Raoul no!" Christine screamed as his hand yanked the petite woman toward him.
Erik automatically pulled on his lasso tighter, intending to kill the Viscount before he could further harm Margot but the hateful noble had pulled Margot back against him, one hand on her throat, the other on the sword Erik had deemed useless, rested against her neck.
"I know all about you and this harlot, you monster!" Raoul shouted as Margot froze, the blade at her throat pressed deep against her flesh.
Christine sobbed. "Raoul, no, please, you don't understand!"
"They conspired against you Christine!" her fiancé stated, flatly. "She is undeserving of your loyalty."
"This cannot be true, please, you've made a mistake-!" Christine pleaded but Erik could no longer focus on the rage directed at her. His eyes, misshapen though the right may have been, were fixed on the pale flesh of Margot's neck as her body shook with fear. Oh Margot, he exasperated internally. Why did you come?
"It is true Christine," Raoul declared, his own gaze determined. "Let my fiancée go, Phantom or I shall kill her."
"I thought you were a nobleman," Margot whispered, her voice hoarse from nearly drowning and terrified as the sword nicked at her skin.
"My instincts where Christine's safety is concerned take precedent!" Raoul shot back, angrily. "Besides, you are no lady."
Erik's heart seemed to freeze, his fantastically quick mind consumed with his plans. He could kill the Viscount but he might kill Margot in the process. He could threaten Christine but even he could not find it within him to harm such a woman, let alone the lady he claimed to adore. Or he could submit and allow Christine to leave and Margot to live.
Despite the confusion his heart and pride and brain was in, his hands knew their only option immediately as they dropped the lasso and watched Christine, his love, his Angel, race across the lake to free her fiancé.
"Go now," he murmured hoarsely as Margot fell into the stone of the wall, shaking and clutching her neck while Raoul embraced Christine tightly. "Forget this, forget all of this."
Christine glanced at Margot fearfully. "Margot, come, hurry-" she reached out to the pale skinned girl, though Raoul, now freed, tried to keep her away. She expected her friend to clutch her to her, to hug her and comfort her as she always had but shock and horror spread across her face as Margot recoiled from the soprano, her eyes on the Phantom.
"Go Christine," she told her, flatly. "There is a mob coming and it would do well for them not to see you." The questions asked should the growing opera mob discovered the Viscount in the Phantom's gondola, the soon to be Viscountess in a wedding dress, unharmed and alive? No, Margot thought privately, Raoul would not want such mystery and speculation surrounding his new wife.
"Margot? What?" Christine stared with astonishment as Erik lifted the iron gate from the water and Raoul scooped her into the gondola that lay floating beside them. "No! Raoul, stop! Margot, please, you must come with us, she must come with us-!"
"Go solnyshka," Margot told her, fiercely. "Go now."
Raoul grabbed his fiancée's hand and ripped the expensive, diamond encrusted engagement ring off her fingers. He tossed it at the Phantom's feet, utter disgust across his expression as he pushed off from the shore. "The blood he spilt his on your hands." He declared to Margot who merely spat at his feet when he floated past.
"What are you doing? Margot, what are you doing?" Christine cried out as her fiancé pushed her away from the candlelit nightmare of the Phantom's home by the lake, until the light had all but faded.
cara mia - Italian meaning 'my dear'
Ma certamente! - Italian meaning 'But of course' or 'Certainly!'
puttana - Italian meaning 'slut'
A/N: So...what'd you think? SIX REVIEWS PLEASE, TIL CHAPTER TWELVE where the movie finally ends.