Chapter 25: Turning Point

So there the four of us were. Beaure, Erik, Christine, and I. Beaure was laughing and grinning like he had cracked open a pinita, Erik lay on the ground, grunting and trying not to cry out in pain, Christine shaking with fear on the ground, and my own head spinning, not able to tear my gaze from the horror before me. Every instinct of mine told me to run. I'd been so close to death before, and had seen people killed before my own eyes, but never before had such an awful thing happened. Whether it was Beaure's laughing that set me off or the sight of my love suffering in a pool of his own, crimson blood, it was the worst thing I'd ever seen in my life.

I tried to yell, but I only let out a cracked, "No." Beaure, still chuckling, turned to me.

"Yes," he laughed. "I've waited so long for this, and now it only gets better."

I could only stand there, gasping and gaping. It was like a horrible train wreck. I couldn't tear my eyes from the body or the growing pile of blood. To my own horror, Beaure began walking towards him. "Don't touch him!" I cried, my voice shrill and cracked. He grinned back at me as he stopped by Erik's side.

"Oh, no, Meg. I'm doing him a favour," Beaure purred as he took hold of the handle on the sword. Christine and I both shrieked as the sound of the sword being pulled out of flesh hit our ears. The sight before me was a gruesome one, possibly worse than before. Tearing the sword out had only damaged him even more, and let the blood flow ever more freely. Erik's white shirt was beyond all hope ruined, and worked as well as a full sponge to soak in the blood. He was gasping, and tears began to flow from my eyes. "He won't be needing that where he's going."

Suddenly, everything slowed. The world around me came into focus. Christine was leaning against the wall, sunken to the floor. Her formerly perfect hair had little wisps darting out every which way. The face that had been so happy less than an hour ago, every speck of perfect pearl-white powder right in place, was now reddening, and becoming wet. Tears streamed down her face, only causing the loose hairs to stick like glue to her tear stained cheeks. The silent drops rolled freely, like her eyes had sprung a leak and she wasn't completely aware of it. She had been through so much in the span of a year that it was ridiculous. A delicate girl of her kind and age, it was a miracle she was alive. Any sensible woman would've gone mad. I suppose that neither her or I was sensible enough for that kind of relief. But this was too much for her, too soon, and all at once. I couldn't blame her for being shocked into silence. The new Madame de Chagney should not be subjected to this sort of torture.

Beaure, the nasty, vile creature that stood before me had his hand wrapped around the hilt of Raoul's sword. The sword itself was a beautiful creature. It's handle was the colour of polished gold, and it's blade as shining silver as a piece of jewellery in the sunlight. It tried in vain to gleam, but was dimmed by the thick blood that dripped and stained the sword's blade. The blood of the late Phantom of the Opera. Erik was considered by the world a monster. He had the face children dream up in a nightmare, was known what I supposed was worldwide as a mass murderer and personal stalker of Christine Daae. He was foul, evil, and a beast. Beaure was a gendarme, of all people. Considered by not just one, but the whole public as a person of high authority. People trusted him. He wasn't cursed with a face like Erik, but indeed had a face that could've earned him many a girl, if he had not his cruel heart. As I looked at the scene before me, I without a doubt knew who the monster really was.

Then Erik. My dear Erik. Dying before my very eyes. He looked straight at me with each heaving breath he took, his golden-green eyes staring straight into mine. I'd gone from fearing those eyes to trusting them with my life. I tried my hardest not to look, but I saw the wound. The part of the shirt where he had been stabbed was a darker shade of crimson than the rest. The blood kept spilling in a waterfall that seemed as endless as Christine's tears. As the atrocious pool grew, as each second passed, Erik's death was closer. I knew that my last kiss with him had passed. And as he stared at me, I stared back at him. As time itself froze, one second passing gave me enough time to think enough thoughts to fill a novel. As I stared at Erik, I saw him carefully mouth, "Be brave."

It was my breaking point and my turning point. I looked around, and for once didn't only see the fancy curtains and expensive, dainty china which held lukewarm tea. I saw everything. Opportunity, madness, horror, passion, and heartbreak. What I saw I put together, and followed Erik's words. Be brave. If it was too late to save Erik, I would get Christine out alive, and I would kill Beaure if I had to damned kill myself as well. Ideas popped up everywhere. Erik's sword that had been abandoned in the disaster, a faint spring breeze blowing in from a window that had been cracked to let air in, the smoke that rose in the sky from Beaure's fire, they all fit together. It was a puzzle, and I had only to fit the last few pieces in myself.

So I did what was by far the bravest and stupidest thing I'd ever done. I stood up from the wall, willing my legs to be strong enough to carry this through for me. "Christine," I said in a low voice. "Care for him. Keep him alive, if you can. This is my fight now." I took my steps with some sort of force, making my way to Erik. I bent to pick up the sword, which was now also beginning to soak in blood. Disregarding this, I took the handle by my hand, and curled my fingers around it, pulling it up to the level of my breast. Crimson droplets rained down back into the rest of the blood, and I clenched my teeth to keep from hissing in disgust.

Beaure, who had looked mildly surprised at first, was now laughing, guffawing harder than when he ran Erik through with the sword. But I kept my face straight. When he saw this, he half-chuckling asked, "Damn, you're really serious?"

"As death itself. You send people to death, and in return, it seems your own happiness is ensured. So why don't you send your good friend one more present? You, or me. Either way this ends, death will claim another victim by the end of this day," I said with the passion that had fuelled my ideas, only making my energy gleam brighter. Beaure's face looked a mix of surprise, smug humour, and a thirst for blood.

"I accept your challenge, Meg. Boldly spoken for a girl with no experience in sword fighting," he taunted, holding his own sword high and beginning to circle me.

"I'm not afraid any more, if that's where you're trying to get at," I replied, holding my own sword, and following Beaure's every movement, turning in a circle with him.

"I merely mean that such brave words are all for nothing if the battle one fights is hopeless and lost before it began," Beaure shot back.

"No one can predict the future, Monsieur," I said with even expression. "No battle is lost before it is fought"

Meanwhile, Meg's words had finally hit Christine, and she was in the process of running up to the bloody figure with a mix of fear, terror, and somewhat pity. She quickly wiped her damp face and bit her lip, trying hard not to shake as she sat on her knees, carefully avoiding the blood pool. It was with feigned courage that she looked at his face. It was horrible. The mix of disfigurement and blood made him look like a creature from God-knows-where, and she let out a little whimper. Knowing that this was the man that had lusted after her not so long ago, and that he and Meg were currently in some form of a misshapen relationship made her head spin, and she had to rest one hand on the floor just to keep her balance.

Christine sucked her breath in as Erik's eyes darted quickly to her. She felt uneasy as he stared at her, and was beginning to feel the sense of panic again. "I-I... Erik? Is... is that your name?" Christine breathed.

Erik only grunted. Christine felt foolish asking such a question at a time like this, and after a moment's hesitation, stood up and tore one of her beautiful draperies down. She then hurried back over, catching a glimpse at the dramatic fighting before her. She felt a tear run down her cheek, but managed to make it back over to Erik and placed the drapery over him. She didn't press down because she didn't know if it would hurt him, and was too scared to touch the blood. She was feeling faint already, as it was. She bit her lip and stared at the horrible sight in front of her. His contorted face was becoming even more twisted. But as he gasped, he looked up at Christine again. Although she shivered with fear, she didn't look away.

"You... you are happy now," Erik grunted. "With Raoul."

It wasn't a question, it was a statement, and it took Christine somewhat by surprise. "Y-yes, I am happy now."

"Good," Erik sighed. "You are... still as beautiful..." He began coughing and tried to speak, but couldn't get the words out.

"What? What is it?" she whispered, blushing a little from his compliment, and from the pressure and intensity of the situation.

"Get... get..." he choked out, trying not to cry out in pain. "Get him."

Christine was a bit shocked at first. Raoul? Her husband? But he was out, how would she...? Then she turned her head to the window. Smoke still danced up from the fire that Beaure had set. Her eyes lit up again and she quickly wiped her tears away. She stood and looked down to Erik, nodding. He grunted, nodded, and closed his eyes again. In a flash, Christine darted out of the room and was running as quickly as she could down the grand staircase. Meg and Beaure, locked in combat, didn't take any notice.

"To think all of this could've been prevented, if only you had given me the money in the beginning," Beaure grinned, throwing the sword out towards my right arm. I saw it coming, and just barely blocked it.

"Dreadful, huh?" I countered, trying to find an opportunity to strike. "What fun would that be?"

"You bring a good point, Meg," he grunted, thrusting the sword without result. "But hasn't this bloodshed been for nothing?"

"Yes, it has been for nothing," I snapped. "But the past can't be changed, and the least I can do is avenge all the blood that's been spilled." Beaure only grinned, and swung his sword around some more.

"Blood for blood? You're not really solving anything, girly," Beaure taunted. I just pursed my lips and resumed blocking kamikaze swings.

Raoul de Chagney had actually been having a good day. Sure, the fire he'd come home to was a bit unexpected and a slight inconvenience, but the shed that had caught on fire was only slightly damaged, and the contents weren't of high value or importance. As the lot of the house's servants finished dousing the fire and clearing the smoke, Raoul stood a short distance away, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief and throwing his overcoat over his shoulder, all while still balancing a top hat atop his neatly cut hair, much shorter than he usually wore. He supposed he'd try a new style, and his wife said the shorter hair and small moustache he was growing suited him.

There was the slightest breeze that allowed the grass to sway, and Raoul noticed a few wisps of white cloud among the smoke that was beginning to clear itself away. He sighed, and watched as his valet, a Mister Peter Dickson, made his way over to Raoul. The lean and thoughtful man was in a bit of a fluster, and began babbling his apologies.

"Master de Chagney, I'm terribly sorry that this whole event had to occur. Personally, I see no motive for how the cursed fire even began! I do hope that-"

"Yes, thank you, Dickson. Now, if you'd please, I've had a very busy morning and I'd like the spend the rest of the day in peace. Would you tell the rest of the household that when they finish, they're to report back to their own duties. Johnny and Robert are permitted to stay after and begin repairs on the barn," Raoul said to his valet, who stopped speaking, and nodded after listening to the man's words.

"Of course, Vicomte de Chagney. I'll be right on it, monsieur," Dickson replied and was quickly onto getting back to the barn. The corner of the Vicomte's mouth curled up a little at his faithful servant. If he hadn't a trusty valet like Dickson, he didn't know what he's do, or where'd he get a laugh from. Dickson was obedient, but took his job much more serious than he needed.

Raoul turned back towards his home to make the short journey back when he saw the figure of a person running towards him from the house. He was a bit baffled when he realized that the figure was wearing fancy dress, and was even more shocked when he realized it was his wife. Still a bit baffled, Raoul was still for a few moments as Christine ran towards him at a speed he had rarely seen her run. After a moment of recovery, he began slowly jogging towards her. She looked in a state of distress, and all of the drama from the previous one or two hours were forgotten as his whole attention was turned to Christine.

Eventually, they met each other, and as Raoul expected her to rush forward and embrace him, she stopped dead a foot or two in front of him. With a surprised look, he only stared for a moment. "Christine, my love, what's wrong?"

She didn't speak, and Raoul took a closer look at her. Her hair was dishevelled and was misplaced from her normally flawless appearance. Her face was pale and red at the same time, and her makeup was stained with tears. She had a look of horror and sadness in her eyes, and her lip was neatly kept in a thin line.

"Christine?"

Christine's face finally broke, and tears began to flow again. She bit her lip and took a sharp breath in.

"Oh, Raoul... it's horrible."

Beaure smirked and let out an odd little laugh. I was panicked in the slightest. He had me without my sword, and odds were not looking good at all. I looked longingly in the direction of the sword where it had landed after becoming airborne. Beaure caught my gaze, but just smiled. "Caught you," he purred, and in a flash, the blade in Beaure's hand was up to my throat, threateningly poised dangerously close to my skin. The panic grew as my body froze in fear. Beaure had already proved that his sword-fighting skills were not of the highest, and the last thing I wanted was an unintentional slip of the blade. Or even intentional, for that matter. I had backed against the wall, and my hands grasped at it desperately for some kind of escape that wasn't likely to come. Beaure then tore his gaze off me to look towards poor Erik, who was still suffering. My own eyes turned towards him, and it was all my heart could do to not implode itself out of the pain his expression brought. The pain was mostly from the wound, I could tell, but it was also from how bleak this situation looked. It was unlikely either of us was going to make it, and our connection of sight felt like forever and nothing. Beaure, being the rude, arrogant arse he was, interrupted our bond. "Good, the great and powerful Phantom can watch while I do this."

"Are you going to behead me or drive me through?" I snarled, snapping my gaze from Erik to Beaure. But the look in Beaure's eyes reminded me of somewhat insanity, and that awful smile was still plastered to his face.

"Actually, what I'm about to do will be far more painful for your lover than that," Beaure hissed, and without warning, drew the sword back from my neck and shoved his face onto mine. My eyes grew wide with surprise, and when I finally came to my senses, I tried to fight him back. My struggles were to no avail, as his hands held my arms firmly by my side and my legs were pressed to the wall by his. I tried to move my head, but he only tried to kiss me deeper. It was one of the most horrifying experiences that I'd ever had the displeasure to experience.

Eventually, he had had his fill, and with snakelike speed drew his face back and sighed. He turned his head towards Erik, who's pained expression was now more enraged than anything. "You bastard!" Erik managed to cry out. Beaure smiled a smug smile, and brought the sword back up. "You know, Meg, if you hadn't resisted so much, you might've enjoyed your last kiss," Beaure said snootily. I was so angry at him that I couldn't resist the urge to spit right in his face. So that's exactly what I did.

The look on Beaure's face was priceless, and I might've smiled, given the situation was different. In his surprise and shock, his eyes began flaming, and he slowly wiped the spit from his cheek. He stared at me with alarming rage and hissed, "No matter what I do, you're always be a little bitch, won't you?" I kept a firm lip and didn't speak. "Well, then, I guess this is the end of our game. Goodbye, Mademoiselle!" He raised the sword a bit higher and was ready to strike.

It was all so slow, and it gave me time to think again. My mind was numb, but still, a million thoughts rushed by. What a life I'd led. So much excitement, romance, adventure, I really couldn't complain. The pain might've been worth it. Still, I didn't want to die. When Erik and I had finally found each other, I couldn't imagine how I'd lived without him. Now, just a week or so later, we were both on the edge of death. Just a week of really knowing him truly, that's all I was granted. It was already time to say goodbye. So I didn't look at Beaure as the sword was raised, I looked to my love. He was already looking at me, his pale face mirrored pain, anger, but most of all, hopelessness. I couldn't muster a smile, given the circumstances, and couldn't help the tears that were blurring my vision.

The sword was about to pierce through my body when the door crashed open. Momentarily, all of our attentions were occupied, and Beaure and I quickly turned our heads towards the disturbance. Erik, was of course, in no way fit to turn quite as quickly as us. But what I saw in the door was almost like an angel from heaven itself. I almost sighed out of pure relief. There were even a few beams of sunlight that shone in from the hallway that gave Raoul de Chagney a sort of heavenly glow. He looked fiercer than I'd ever seen him, and some kind of passion and intelligence glowed in his eyes among rage. Raoul was quick to take in the room before him, and his gaze darted from the bloodied body on the floor to Beaure, at which he frowned.

"George Beaure. What an unexpected surprise, though I can't fathom why the devil you're in my sitting room," Raoul said with genuine bewilderment. I heard Beaure mutter a few curses under his breath.

"Monsieur de Chagney, I can't say it's a pleasure to see you again," he scowled. I felt his grip on me tighten, then loosen a bit.

"I'll have to ask you to step away from the girl immediately," Raoul commanded.

Beaure's grip tightened again. "Why should I?" he snarled. "I've every reason to hate each and every one of you in the room, none of your lives are of any value."

"Because if you don't," Raoul said, quick to draw a revolver from his pocket. "Then I'm afraid your own life will be at risk."

Beaure was silent for a moment, then began to smile and laugh. "Monsiuer, I don't believe you know the whole story. Over the course of the past few months, the only thing I've wanted to do is end the lives of the two people before you. Once I've assured that, then I don't fear for my own life. I can die happy, knowing that I'll be following these two to hell."

"Are you so sure about that? What if I shot right now? You'd have no time to slice her neck," Raoul said with complete composition. I was shocked at how brave he was, though I supposed the man had been through enough that he would've picked up a few things about encounters.

"You wouldn't," Beaure sneered. "Assuming you miss me and hit the girl?"

"I can assure you I wouldn't miss."

"All the quicker to kill her," Beaure hissed, pressing the blade closer and I let out a small involuntary cry. Raoul's sight darted to me, and I could see a bit of concern in his look. I saw Christine behind Raoul, not completely out of sight, but enough that she'd be on the scene if anything happened.

"But what about me?" Raoul asked. "Haven't you a grudge against me as well? Am I to be let off easy?"

Beaure's grip loosened slowly. "I... well, yes. I mean, no, you're not getting off so easy. It's-" Beaure was frustrated, suddenly seeing his new problem. I supposed he was trying to think of how he could kill me, assure Erik's death, and murder the viscount as well.

"Then fight me," Raoul spoke, stepping into the room for the first time, exposing Christine from behind him. She was trembling a bit, and holding onto the doorway. "Winner takes all. If you win, you have the satisfaction of killing the girl and me. But if I win, then your own life will be taken."

Beaure looked almost thoughtful. A small smile crossed Raoul's face. "With the stakes so high, how could you refuse a last bet?"

Finally, Beaure clawed my arm for a split second, leaving fingernail marks, then stepping away from me, taking the blade from the space surrounding my neck. I took a gasp of air and sighed, relief flooding my body. "I accept your challenge, Monsiuer. Grab your sword, before I change my mind." Beaure snapped, obviously irritated by the suddenly appearance, even if it meant he could kill more people to satisfy his thirst for blood.

What happened between the two of them next was quite irrelevant to me, as my attention was fully drawn to Erik. I nearly tripped over myself running to him. I collapsed on my knees beside him and felt the tears beginning to fall. I hadn't even remembered them welling up in my eyes, they were just suddenly there. "Erik, oh, Lord. Oh, Lord." I cried softly. He was still alive, but I could tell he was loosing too much blood, even with all the various cloths over him that tried in vain to soak up the crimson pools.

His breathing was shallow, and I dared not try and kiss him for fear that I might kiss him his own death. It was one of the most painful moments I can remember, feeling so helpless. "Erik... what can I do?" I whispered to him, gingerly taking grasp of one pale hand. I heard a sharp gasp from him as he tried to speak.

"M...Meg... thank you," he sighed. "For life again."

"No," I nearly growled. "No, don't say that. You're not going to die, we can save you still. Don't try and say your last words."

He tried to chuckle, but began gasping for breath again. "No... hear me out. You saved my meaningless life... you changed the way I look at the world...at people, at you... you made me a better person and showed me... that there will always... be someone... out there."

I couldn't speak, and my throat burned from trying to hold back the tears, which flowed anyways. "You... I love you, Meg. For the short, blissful time that I really knew you... it was the best time of my life."

"Shush!" I sniffed, my voice cracking. "Stop saying that! You're going to live. We'll make it out, and we can run away. Far from Paris, we can go to America, to New York or Boston or London or Dublin. We can get married, have a family and a normal life without all this running, if you only have the will to live!"

Erik smiled up at me a pained smile. He was in so much pain, I could clearly see it. "Even... if we did... make it. All the way to Dublin... we could never live a normal life. You know that."

"Then I don't want a normal life. I just want one with you," I murmured. "Please..."

Suddenly, the roars of the men brought me back to the reality of the fight that was going on just a few paces away from us. I tore my eyes almost unwillingly from Erik to the battle, where Raoul was gritting his teeth and clashing swords with Beaure. The sound of metal clanging against metal resounded through the room, and I cringed at their latest clash.

Suddenly, Christine was running from the door towards me. She nearly ran into me as she stopped and took her place by my side. I was a bit startled by her sudden movement, and looked at her with wide eyes. She looked back with her beautiful doe brown eyes, full of concern and fear. "Meg, is there anything we can do?" she whispered fearfully.

Before I could even think, Raoul cried out, "Christine! Get away from here!"

"Let the lady be, this isn't her fight," Beaure hissed and tried to get a swing in. Raoul blocked it and looked to the three of us again.

"Christine, away! I can't have you risking yourself or the child!" Raoul roared, then turned his attention back to his fight. My blood suddenly ran cold and I stared at Christine.

"Child?" I nearly squeaked.

Christine gave me a very weak smile. "Surprise!" she said meekly. "That was what I was going to tell you before all of... this."

"You're with child?" I nearly hissed at her. "What on earth are you thinking, being here? Your husband is perfectly right, get away!"

Christine opened her mouth to speak before we both heard Raoul cry out in pain. Both of us expected the worst and turned to see what damage had been received. Thank the Lord, it was only a scratch across his shirt, and it didn't look too deep at all. We both sighed with relief, glad that our last hero hadn't fallen yet.

With some expertise, Raoul moved his sword with somewhat grace, striking against Beaure's. After one or two blows, Raoul finally struck the sword so hard that it flew right out of Beaure's hands and across the room the opposite end of us. Beaure had a surprised look upon his face, unable to believe that Raoul had bested him. Raoul had somewhat of a smug and relieved look on his face. "Monsieur, since I am a gentleman, I will offer you a second chance. You go with a swear to leave our presence, and disappear from this city, and your life will be spared."

Beaure snarled at him like a wild animal. What was left of Monsieur Drake, the charming cabby that I'd met once upon a time, was nearly gone. The person standing before us was more animal than man. "I'm sick of your offers, I'll kill you with my bare hands!" he growled and ran for Raoul with his hands outstretched like he was going to try and fit them around Raoul's neck.

Without another choice, what Raoul did was something I thought highly impossible for quite a while. With one smooth twist of the sword, Monsieur Beaure's heart was pierced and ceased beating forever. The ferocious look on his face turned into shock before he dropped to the ground like a stone, dead. He bled from the wound where the sword had impaled him, sword still sticking through both sides of his body.

I gasped, not sure what to feel. It was almost too surreal for me to grasp. The man who had murdered so many, had made attempts on our lives and the lives of our loved ones, was finally dead.

Yeah, yeah. I know, I'm a horrible updater. But I DO have some good news. I'm rewriting some of the older chapters because at a glance, they're quite frankly terrible. So I'll let you know when and what'll be changed. I'll also be cutting a lot of my ramblings down here, so I'll keep this one short as well. There's only a couple chapters let to go, can't wait until I hear from you all again!