hey! I know I coul have written this sooner, but hey... Im on holiday! Yay no more work! (except for A level preparation :/)
So here ya go! Chapter 36! and please answer my small questionnaire on where you would like this story to go at the bottom!
Thanks! I own nothing!
Chapter 36
The Phantom stood silently behind the mirror. It was laughable, really, how the viscount thought he could protect Christine from him by standing guard at her door (well more sleeping than standing, which made it even more ridiculous). The Phantom does not enter and exit through doorways. He enters through walls and mirrors and exits dramatically through the floor, or vanishes from sight, his tricks hiding himself immediately from your sight.
But Erik, the Phantom of the Opera, Angel of music, Opera Ghost, was not thinking about that at the moment. As he stood behind the mirror, his eyes gazing upon Christine's sleeping form, his eyes were soft and sad, his fingers splayed upon the barrier between them.
She was so beautiful when she slept. Her soft features free from torment, or worry. Her breathing slow and controlled, Erik mimicked the pace with his own breaths. The worry lines occasionally marring her perfect forehead were smoothed out, her brown curls splayed out around her like a halo, showing her for the angel she was. Erik watched as she cracked open an eye, his eyes widening as she rose from the bed to her feet, gazing out of the window.
And suddenly, the Phantom knew what she was planning, and, as she slowly cracked the door open and crept past the slumbering Raoul, The Phantom turned from the mirror and ran – silently, always silently – through the catacombs, emerging into the dark night near the carriages. Hiding behind a pillar, he saw Christine make her way outside – thanking the stars she had thought to bring a shawl – and heard her speak to the driver.
"Where to?"
"The Cemetery."
Of course she was going to the cemetery, The Phantom grinned darkly to himself. This was his chance. She was unsure whether or not she believed in her angel any more... He would bring back her beliefs, and she would be his!
Watching the driver strap the horses to the carriage, The Phantom waited for the opportune moment, his heart pounding lightly, his eyes alert, his weapon balanced carefully in his hands. As he went to attach the horse, The Phantom struck him in the back of the head, knocking him to the ground and quickly finishing the job of attaching the horse to the carriage. He swung himself up into the drivers seat, covering his head with a hood, and tucking his sword out of sight.
He sensed, rather than saw Christine approach the carriage from behind, and felt his whole self tense up, willing himself to stave off his excitement. He half turned as she sat in the carriage behind him, careful for her not to see his mask, but her eyes were looking right through him, deep in thought as she gave the command.
"To my father's grave, please."
Shaking the reins, they set off at a walk.
Henri watched his mother staring blankly out of the window, his forehead creased in worry.
"Mother?" he said softly, and she jumped slightly, shaking her head.
"Yes, Henri, what was it?"
"Are you well?" he stepped forwards, to take her hand in his, "you have been sitting here all day."
Madame Dupet sighed softly, her eyes downcast.
"I am so sorry for what has happened, Henri. Our lives have been a little bit of a farce haven't they?"
Henri slipped his arm around the older woman, "what do you mean?"
She shook her head, her eyes sparkling with tears. "I can't believe he would do this to us." She muttered.
Henri frowned "You mean Erik? We never treated-"
But Madame Dupet shook her head. "No, not Erik. Everything he has done I take the blame for. I should never have treated him the way I did. No, I was talking of your father."
Henri hissed slightly.
Madame Dupet sighed. "When I married him, he was so sweet. Always kind, always thinking of me, putting me first. I loved him. Oh, how I loved him."
A tear slid its way down her face. "And I thought – I thought he loved me too. And maybe he did for a while... Until Erik came." She shook her head. "I blamed Erik for his change. I had done nothing wrong, and he hated me for bearing a child he believed was sent from Satan himself. I thought, when I had you, it would be better, and he did love you... oh, so much. But he still hated me, I think."
Henri held her close, "and that's why I turned my head. I believed that if Erik was gone, he would love me again. He would forget. And I still loved him, after everything. I loved him when he drank, and I loved him when he would hurt me... I think, had it not been for you, I might have stayed. Whatever he'd done... If your life was not in danger, I would have never left. And I'm so sorry. I wanted to hate him. God, did I want to, and I think in some way, I did... but I loved him too. But I had to make sure you were safe.
"I wanted to believe he would go back to what he used to be. The kind, grateful, loving husband... but it was too late. And he finally saw the truth with his dying breaths... I think he regretted it, hating us, blaming us... I want to believe he was still good." She looked at her son with damp cheeks. "Do you think that he still had a good spark in him... or was the man I fell in love with gone, before he was really gone?"
Henri shook his head. "I do not know, mother. He seemed cruel, but that might have been the alcohol. You were right to leave, though. He would likely have killed you. But I think, I think he did love you."
Henri stood, holding his mother's hand. "Come. I have an idea."
The Phantom guided the carriage through the woods, his mind formulating a plan. A plan that would make Christine his at last. She could not resist him, they belonged together, and the music they would make would last forever.
She could not resist his voice, alluring and dark and perfect, his voice could command her to stay, could charm her into loving him once and for all.
Henri helped his mother into a carriage and sat himself in the front, yanking the reins and the horses pulled them away from the house.
Half way through the wood, Henri spied a horse, galloping desperately towards the cemetery, the man on its back strangely familiar. He carried a sword, and rode bareback, his blonde hair streaming out behind him.
Then Henri remembered. It was the viscount from the masquerade, who had drawn a sword and dropped into the hole in the ground after Erik. Henri wondered what he was doing there, his eyes crazy, riding the horse as fast as he could, as if his life depended on it.
The white horse and its rider vanished into the wood, and Henri followed its path more slowly, towards the cemetery and where his father's grave lay.
Erik stopped the carriage outside the gates to the cemetery, and allowed Christine to climb out, gazing up at the cracked statues, the weathered gravestones. The Phantom shook the reins once more and moved off, round the corner, before climbing off the carriage – it was not important – and running.
Somewhere in the distance, a bell chimed, and Erik reached the shrine of Gustave Daae, bending over to catch his breath in front of it for a second, his ears straining to head Christine approaching... nothing yet...
He tugged on the metal gates, wrenching them open, and then sliding them closed again, tying his rope to one of the gates – his lasso – and climbed over the shrine, so Christine would not see him.
Henri arrived at the graveyard, slightly surprised to see another carriage there, abandoned. Shaking his head, he tied their horse to the gate, and turned to help his mother out of the carriage. Shaking, she emerged, looking out at the graveyard with trepidation. Was her husband buried here? With all the cracked, miserable looking statues?
Somewhere in the distance, a bell chimed, and Henri and Madame Dupet made their way into the cemetery, to the surprising sounds of soft singing.
(Wishing you were somehow here again – Andrew Lloyd Webber)
You were once
My one companion,
You were all that mattered.
"Come on", Henri hissed, not wanting to disturb the young lady, "I think it's over here with the newer ones." Madame Dupet nodded, turning her face away from the soft music.
You were once
A friend and Father,
Then my world was shattered.
Her heart hurt for the poor child singing so sadly, and she walked away from her, edging her way towards the other graves, the singing still audible in the distance.
Wishing you were somehow here again
Wishing you were somehow near
Madame Dupet knelt down at Monsieur Dupet's grave, brushing the snow from her grey hair, and brushing her hand over the stone. She did not say anything, just listened to the music, and stared sadly at the small grave that showed all he had lived for... a small, marble tombstone, and 6 feet of dirt as your sky.
Sometimes it seemed,
If I just dreamed,
Somehow you would be here!
The music started fading slightly, as the girl got further away, and Henri turned his head in the direction it had gone, Madame Dupet rising to her feet and turning away from the tombstone. Looking at each other, they began to walk in the direction they had heard the music disappear.
The Phantom raised his head as the soft sound of singing came to him on the wind, and he closed his eyes to hear his angel better.
Too many years,
Fighting back tears
Why can't the past just die?
His heart ached for the pain in her voice, the tears in her song.
He would fix her. He would replace her father in her heart, and she would love him.
Wishing you were somehow
Here again
Knowing we must say
Goodbye.
Try to forgive,
Teach me to live
Give me the strength to try!
Henri heard the voice again, louder, more emotion straining it, and he crept closer.
No more Memories,
No more Silent tears,
No more Gazing across
The empty years.
Help me say
Goodbye.
Help me say
Goodbye!
The singing stopped, and Henri stopped walking, looking at his mother. What were they doing? It was not their place to interfere with another's mourning.
He turned to walk away, but stopped as another, a man's voice, sung through the night.
His mouth hung open, his eyes wide, and he stopped in amazement at the beauty of the silken voice.
(Wandering Child/ Angel of music – Andrew Lloyd Webber)
Wandering Child,
So lost, so helpless.
Yearning for my guidance.
Madame Dupet span on her heel, gazing through the spiralling snowflakes in the direction the voice had come from. Who was it?
Angel or Father,
Friend or Phantom,
Who is it there, staring?
Have you forgotten your Angel?
Henri and his mother gasped at the word Phantom... was it?
It couldn't possibly be?
Angel, oh speak,
What endless longings,
Echo in this whisper?
What was he doing?
Too long you've wandered in winter,
Erik tugged on the rope, pulling the gates to the shrine open.
Far from my fathering gaze
Christine: Wildly my mind beats
Against you
Phantom: You resist yet
Your soul obeys!
The Phantom's heart pumped hard in excitement, the adrenaline coursing through his system. He was going to win.
Christine would be his at last!
Angel of music,
You (I) denied me (you),
Turning from true beauty
Angel of music,
Do not shun me (my protector)
Come to me (your) strange angel.
Erik's voice darkened and his eyes shone with glee.
I am your angel of music!
Come to me angel of music!
Henri and his mother stood, gobsmacked, before a rumble of hooves and a shout of "No! Christine! Wait!" snapped the aforementioned diva out of her trance.
"Wait!"
Raoul leapt off his horse, drawing his sword and ran to Christine.
"Raoul?"
"Whatever you believe; this man, this thing is not your father." Christine watched in confusion, and Henri and Madame Dupet shared a glance.
With a roar of fury, the jilted Phantom leapt from his hiding place above the shrine, sword drawn, right on top of Raoul, clashing swords with him.
The Phantom threw his cape back, and flourished his sword angrily. Lunging forwards, he stabbed the blade towards the viscount, who sidestepped out of the way, meeting his sword with a clang. Furiously swiping, their swords danced around each other, the shrill screech of metal on metal echoing around.
Henri's hand flew to his waist and he swore aloud when he realised he had forgotten his weapon in the sudden decision. He could not help.
The Phantom and the viscount danced around the corner, slashing at each other, neither able to land a hit. The Phantom swiped his cape round, blocking the viscount's vision as he swung at him, and Raoul barely managed to stop the blade from slicing into him, leaping off a short wall into the snow below, stumbling slightly on the slippery surface, and falling into a gravestone, he winced and kept his weapon clutched in his hand.
Christine ran down the stairs in horror, her brown eyes wide with fright as the two men she loved attacked each other.
Henri and his mother watched from behind a tree, Madame Dupet's knuckles in her mouth to keep her from crying out, Henri's fists clenched in worry.
The Phantom leapt off the wall in a flurry of black with another roar of anger, his sword clutched tightly in his right hand. Raoul had managed to climb to his feet and raced off sideways, clashing swords with the Phantom around tall gravestones, occasional grunts of exertion and fury emitting from the two fighters.
Raoul rolled round a gravestone, his blonde hair damp from the snow.
The Phantom was forcing Raoul backwards, away from the grave of Gustave Daae, and he saw a chance, stepping forwards and shoving Raoul backwards over a tree branch splayed across the floor. The viscount went flying backwards, rolling back onto his feet as the Phantom swiped at the tree branch, sending a small explosion of snow into the air.
You could see both men tiring, panting hard from the exertion, but neither backing down, neither giving up. The Phantom was still strong with his fury, his madness.
There was a flash of sparks as Raoul trapped the Phantom's sword between a metal gate and his own sword, and the Phantom flung himself against the viscount, sending him stumbling, and freeing the Phantom's sword.
Cries of anger still echoed around, sparks flying as they struck sword against sword with lots of power behind each attack.
The Phantom ducked behind a gravestone, Raoul feeling less and less at ease as his eyes scanned where he had vanished, before he came barrelling out of nowhere, the viscount barely managing to parry his blow.
Furiously they swiped at each other, neither wanting to back down.
Whipping his cape round to block Raoul's vision, the Phantom struck a blow, cutting into the viscount's arm, and drawing blood and a yell of pain from the younger man, who stumbled and fell into the snow, the blood staining the snow a deep red colour, almost black.
Rising back to his feet, the viscount determinedly swung at the Phantom.
Both were aiming to kill.
Roaring, Raoul managed to force the Phantom back, whose white mask shone in the night in contrast to his black clothing, seeming more pure than the white snow still spiralling down around them.
Swinging madly, they struck against each other, and the Phantom struck from above, the viscount bending down, then straightening, his face set in a determined grimace. He pressed his sword against the Phantom's, pushing it sideways, to the ground, then stepping on it, forcing it out of the Phantom's hand, and kicking it away in a flurry of snow.
With a roar, the viscount drew his sword arm back, Erik lying vulnerable and open on the snow before him, his face deeply ingrained with a look of hatred.
He prepared to swing the sword down, to end the beaten man's life, and Henri gasped, and Madame Dupet started forwards, her eyes wide with horror, but they would not be able to stop him in time...
"No, Raoul!" Christine appeared at the viscount's shoulder, her face white with fear, and Raoul looked round at her.
"No." She said again, "Not like this."
The viscount turned around, looking back at the open target glaring up at him, sprawled on the floor.
It would be so easy. It would all be over.
Then he looked back at Christine, at her begging expression, her eyes wide with fear and horror. She could not bear it.
The Phantom's eyes moved from him to Christine, his breathing fast from the fight, his black wig untidy and all over the place – but miraculously still in the right place.
Stepping back, Raoul sheathed his sword, turning away to Christine, grabbing her by the arm, and climbing onto his white horse, pulling her up with him.
The Phantom sat up, his green eyes filled with fury and hate. He could not have been beaten!
He climbed to his feet as they rode past him, and turned to watch them, his teeth gritted in anger.
He swung his cape round, turning away from where Henri and Madame Dupet emerged from where they were hiding.
"Now." He swore in a low voice, "Let it be war upon you both."
Madame Dupet ran towards him, and Erik looked round at her. His eyes glinted.
"Don't think I won't win." He said to her furiously, seeing her as a stranger.
And then, before she had a chance to open her mouth, he was gone.
Woo! I have the next chapter written already (yeah! two in one day!) so it shouldnt take as long to upload that one... and I have the one after planned in my head...
Now... I dont really know where to go with this, so can I have your help?
1. Finish it where the film ends, or just a small bit afterwards (like an epilogue)?
2. Follow on with Love Never Dies? (which will probably take another 2 years :/)
3. Make an entirely new storyline where: A) Erik falls in love with someone else. B) he keeps chasing Christine (succeed/fail?) or C)he dies without a girl, but with his family/ brother?
Review with your favourite, please! When I have a few votes, I will upload the next chapter!