This story is rated M for some violence, coarse language, and minor adult themes.
It is not appropriate for readers under the age of 16 and should not be viewed by such.
Disclaimer – same as the other parts.
Paris, France – 2004
In all
my fantasies,
I always
knew
that man
and mystery…
were both
in you…
And in
this labyrinth,
where night
is blind,
the Phantom of the Opera
is here –
inside my mind…
I opened my eyes, looking around. my brain was in a fog. I had no idea where I was – and then I went to sit up, and found I was pinned down by an arm. Erik's arm. I nearly screamed – I was still in the lair?! Then it came back to me: all the events of the previous night, how Erik and I had… I turned carefully onto my other side, trying not to wake him. I watched him as he slept. His mask was not on – it was somewhere out by the piano. His eyes were shut, and his breathing was quiet. He was snoring softly – he must have been in a deep sleep.
I carefully climbed out from under Erik's arm, placing it gently onto the bed once I had gotten free. I gathered my clothes from where they'd been strewn around the room and dressed – it was freezing. Pulling my shoes on, I heard Erik give a sudden loud snore, and I turned to him. He was still asleep – but shivering a bit. I reached over and pulled the blankets up a bit farther, covering him better. He stirred a bit, and I thought he'd wake, but after a moment he settled down, still asleep.
I smiled, for I was sure I was seeing something rare. The Phantom was sleeping – it was sweet, in an eerie way. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered vaguely what he might be dreaming about – and a moment later, hoped it might be me. The small smile on his face was a bit telling, but still…I hoped it was me he was dreaming about.
I walked out of the bedroom and into the lair, needing time to think. Glancing toward the piano, I spotted a small clock – battery-operated, I figured – and his mask. I smiled – then gasped. "It's that late?" I knew I had to get back upstairs – it was almost mid-morning, and at least Meg was certain to be missing me. I looked back toward Erik's bedroom – I could still hear him snoring softly. I didn't want to leave him. If he woke and found me gone, what would he think? Would he think I didn't love him – that I wasn't serious about last night?
I looked around for pen and paper – I'd leave him a little note. After a moment, I found blank paper, but nothing that resembled a pen – and then I spotted Erik's quill and ink bottle. My jaw dropped – he still wrote with this archaic equipment? It was comical, but somehow I figured out how to write with the quill. I signed my note C.D-C., thinking that the O.G. might find it amusing. When I had finished it, and allowed the ink to dry, I walked back up to the bedroom and laid my note on the bed. Should Erik wake, I did not want him to panic at not finding me in the bed, and figured that at least his eyes would spot the note. Once my note was neatly in place, I quietly left the lair, carefully finding my way back up toward the dormitory passage and emerging from the grate – closing it behind me just as Meg entered the room.
"Child, where on Earth have you been?" She looked exasperated. "I've searched high and low in this theatre – I was just about to brave the cellars to find you!"
I sighed. "Sorry, Meg."
"You didn't stay there last night with him."
"I did."
She made a little annoyed grunt in her throat. "Figures."
"Meg, I love him."
Immediately, her expression changed – but it wasn't the happy one I expected. "Child, you…"
I silenced her with a hand – there was a noise behind me in the passage. It almost sounded like…like people descending through the cellars. "Meg, what's that?"
She stared at me for a moment, then started to pale. "I…I didn't think they would…"
Then I realized – the noise was getting louder – they were ascending, not descending. "Oh, God…Meg…"
We rushed out of the dorm, heading toward the stage – I could hear the noise from the mob growing louder the closer we ran. When we reached the stage, there was a throng of people gathered around – I could not see through them. Meg forced her way through, dragging me with her. Now I could see what we'd all gathered about – an empty chair. I was confused for a moment. As if on some macabre cue, I heard several screams from the opposite side of the stage – and through the crowd, which was now parting quickly for them, Nichole appeared, leading J. Pierre, Toby, and several of the other stagehands.
They were dragging Erik. His hands were bound behind him, but he wasn't struggling. As I watched in mute horror, they threw him into the chair and tied him fast to it. I could feel tears in my eyes. He'd allowed himself to be caught – but why? How? I felt Meg nudge me and whisper something, but I was deaf to her. My eyes were fixed on Erik – helpless, powerless. I wanted to rush to him but knew how foolish it would be.
When my hearing returned – when I started paying attention – Nichole was laughing, staring at Erik. "Finally. We best you instead of the other way around."
"You've done nothing of the sort," Erik said softly.
"Beg to differ. Which one of us is the captive?" There was silence for a moment. She laughed again. "Thought so. So…you intended to kill Sean twice…you let him escape twice." She took a knife from J. Pierre. "Perhaps we ought to return the favor, n'est pas?"
I watched him breathe deeply and exhale – a wicked grin played across his lips. "I dare you."
I nearly screamed, but Meg covered my mouth at the last second. Nichole looked stunned for a moment – unsure of what he'd said. Then the same grin crossed her face.
She rushed forward and plunged the knife into his heart.