Come What May
A/N: I thought I would make this chapter less depressing that the last before I drop the last few chapters on you guys! I would have uploaded this days ago but your poor author was internetless...is that even a word? -_-' Anyways, enjoy oh and a sidenote to two of you guys:
georgiagirl5: She'll get her kiss dont worry ;D A lot of people have been waiting for it, it wont dissapoint I promise!
Andimpink: o.O thats all I can say before I give the ending away
Monica walked calmly through the dark tunnels beneath the opera house, her mind at ease as she ran her hand along the cold stone wall. She could feel the damp stones beneath her fingers; the smell of wet dirt comforted her while the rushing water soothed her nerves.
She couldn't believe she had never noticed the tranquility down there. Perhaps it was because she was usually in a rush or distraught whenever she passed through. That wasn't the case this time, she was at peace with herself, she enjoyed every moment of it and made a mental note to remember every single detail.
She frowned slightly when she realized it was probably the last time she would ever walk through the catacombs, she paused and sighed before she leaned her body up against the harsh wall. She pushed herself off after a moment and continued to walk towards her destination.
Her footsteps were uncharacteristically loud as she finally reached the lair and walked through the large space with sorrow apparent in her eyes. She realized that the Phantom was probably in his room or up in the opera house after glancing at the organ and finding it without its musician.
She ran her hands over the keys and closed her eyes, she kept the memory of the Phantom playing late at night in her mind making sure to never forget it. She bit her lip as her fingers hovered above a rose petal she found on a sheet of music. She took it into her hand and looked at it intently; the same petals would probably be placed over her coffin when she died.
After that realization she dropped the petal quickly and stepped away from it in slight fear. She backed up into a table that held multiple candles and books which eased her slightly.
She lowered her body to look at the Persian monkey that rested on a music box on the table. She traced the detailed face with her hand and stored it in her mind as well before she walked over to the Phantom's room with a frown.
She gripped the ruby doorknob and turned it quietly before stepping in hesitantly unsure of whether he was in there or upstairs. After a few moments she realized that the Phantom was sleeping on his bed, she rose her brow at the sight.
She didn't know ghosts slept.
She took a moment as her eyes scanned his resting form; he lay on the bed facedown while one of his arms hung over the side of the bed. She could see his calm expression as his head rested on a black silk pillow, the masked side hidden from her view due to it being the side that was upon the pillow.
The sight of his exposed back, however, was the thing that caused her to gasp. Scars of every shape and size were scattered across is skin, she rose her hand to cover her mouth to prevent another gasp to escape from her mouth.
She couldn't stop her own body from moving forward as she walked up next to him and looked at the mass of scars that had faded over time. Her eyes started to pool with tears upon seeing what the world had done to him.
Her shaking hand reached down to trace on of the particularly nasty looking scars before it was seized with a crushing force and she was pinned down onto the bed. Her scared eyes met with the Phantom's raging orbs as he refused to lessen the grip on her wrist. She had startled him out of his sleep and now found herself pinned beneath his heavy body.
"Erik, it's me," she whispered to him in the dark forcing back the tears of pain that threatened to fall from her eyes, "it's just me, love," she whimpered as she rose a hand to caress the side of his face.
The Phantom lessened the pressure upon hearing the voice, he instantly let go and backed away from the body beneath him and searched blindly for his mask. His hand gripped the white porcelain prop before one of Monica's wrapped around his wrist.
"Leave it," she told him knowing she had caught him off guard, his reaction to her waking him up confirmed that.
The Phantom remained frozen upon hearing the command; she had never ordered him to do anything until now. He couldn't relax knowing that his deformed side was exposed and she could see it, he knew it didn't disturb her by now but he couldn't shake the feeling of helplessness that settled over him whenever he had the mask off.
"I want you, not the Phantom," she told him as her hand trailed up his arm and settled on the side of his horrendous face. He pulled away out of pure instinct when he felt her feather like touches on his scarred face, he knew she meant no harm but years of torture and beatings were hard to forget.
"Are you drunk? Did you hit your head somewhere?" he asked in a low voice as she sat back on his bed and pulled her hands back. He frowned missing the contact but resisted the urge to pull her back to him in order to hear her answer.
"Why is it that every time I try to get close you find it out of character for me?" she asked hurt hugging one of his pillows as he sighed and sat down in front of her before realizing that the top half of his body was exposed to her. He instantly reached for his shirt resting on the bedframe behind her before she took his arm once more and shook her head.
"I already saw," she told him with a frown, "why is it that you keep hiding things like this from me?" she asked as he remained silent. Something was off; his muse wasn't acting like herself. He glanced back at over his shoulder to look at the scars that adorned his back before looking at her once more.
"They are part of a past I would rather forget," he growled back as she frowned. She scooted closer to him when her mind reminded her that this was probably the last time she was going to see him, she didn't want to keep anything from him or have him keep secrets from her.
"I don't want this," she admitted before standing and shedding her jacket. The Phantom stared at her in confusion before she pulled her sleeve down over her shoulder to reveal a nasty looking bullet wound on her shoulder. "I'm tired of hiding from you, I have two others, one on my collarbone and another on my shoulder blade," she confessed before sitting back down.
The Phantom's eyes scanned the wound that was barely starting to heal before anger rose up upon seeing her in that state.
"Who-" he started before she cut him off.
"That's not the point, I don't want to hide anything from you anymore…and I don't want you to either," she told him with pleading eyes. He instantly closed his mouth, that was the first time anyone had ever managed to silence him.
That deserved an award of its own.
Now he was sure that she had hit her head, she never acted like this so why start now?
Nevertheless he pulled back and decided to indulge her before he took her hand and led it down his neck before stopping over his heart. She tensed when he let her hand go, she could feel something beneath her fingers. She pulled her hand back to reveal a single scar on his chest right where his heart should be.
"How did you-" she started before he waved his hand and stopped her.
It was his turn to interrupt her now.
"Christine," he replied as she shook her head slightly before he continued, "the Vitcome could not live with the fact that she still longed for her 'angel'," he told her as Monica listened intently afraid of breathing and interrupting him. "He hired men to track down and kill the infamous 'Opera Ghost', I killed all of them…" he told her as she took one of his hands into her own.
It was the first time he had ever told her anything about his past; her mind couldn't help but remind her that it would be the last.
"The wound that they left behind reminded me of her ingratitude, her lack of compassion, but most of all her betrayal," he finalized taking back his hand swiftly and reaching once more for his shirt. Monica didn't stop him; she merely sat there and took all of the information in.
She never imagined Christine would have been capable of doing all of that to the man she owed her very life to.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know," she mumbled as he slipped the white fabric over his shoulders and let fall down his back. She avoided his eyes and instead kept her own locked on her hands which rested in her lap.
"You wanted the truth, mon amour, now you have it," he shot back sounding more irritated than he had meant to. She retreated away from him and he regretted his backlash instantly, she had meant no harm, how could she have known that it would cause him to react like that?
He decided to chance the subject before she found out more about him than he wanted her to know.
"Have you forgotten what day it is?" he asked as she looked up at him after his little outburst. He couldn't help but notice her hopeful expression upon being spoken to again, he reminded himself to keep his temper under control when it involved her.
"It's Friday," she replied blankly as he resisted the urge to smirk, she had forgotten after all.
"I am afraid that Christmas has slipped your mind," he told her as her jaw dropped open at the sudden realization. He shook his head in disbelief, out of all the holidays she had forgotten the most important one.
"I didn't even remember!" she exclaimed dropping her head into her hands as he stood and grabbed is mask before offering a hand to her. She took it after a moment of debate and allowed herself to be led towards the library where a sea of wrapped presents awaited her.
A deep shade of red settled on her cheeks upon realizing that she hadn't gotten anything for him, with everything that had been going on the last thing on her mind was Christmas. She turned to look at the Phantom who had taken a seat on the couch in front of the fire while he watched her embarrassed form standing in front of him.
"These are all yours, I had Fleur deliver the child's own presents," he told her as she uttered a groan of genuine despair, not only had he spent money on her but he had taken the liberty of spending on Kiri as well. She resisted the urge to face palm at her predicament.
"You didn't have to do this," she told him as he shook his head and dismissed her protests.
"They will not open themselves," he told her as she stood frozen before him and the mass of presents. After another look from the Phantom she sunk to the ground and grabbed the closest one before she began to unwrap it.
She couldn't remember the last time she had even celebrated Christmas, everything in her life had been in such turmoil that she had neglected the need to enjoy the holiday.
Her shaking hands held a black velvet box as her eyes drifted up to the Phantom who merely nodded at her in reassurance. She nearly fainted when she opened it and saw what was inside.
A necklace made up of pure diamonds gleamed back at her, even in the dim lighting the precious rock managed to shine exaggeratedly.
"Oh my god, I can't take this!" she shrieked looking up at the Opera Ghost, a blank expression was placed on his face as if he had been expecting that reaction all along.
"I will not have my muse looked down upon by the aristocrats in this city, therefore you shall accept it," he told her in his matter of fact voice that irked the hell out of her. Her brow twitched for a brief moment before she thought of the cost of the piece of jewelry in her hand.
"How much was this?" she asked glancing at the necklace, she had a feeling that it could feed a family for the rest of their lives.
"That is not your concern," he replied as she closed the velvet box and stared at him with slight sadness in her eyes.
"I don't even deserve it," she mumbled before he rose from the couch and crouched in front of her. Her doubtful eyes met his reassuring ones before he took one of her hands and held it up to his lips.
"You are an amazing woman, a marvelous dancer and singer, my muse," he paused slightly before adding the next part, "and a reckless motorcycle driver, you deserve this and more," he told her before kissing her hand and letting it go. He rose once more and urged her to open the next present.
What he had failed to tell her was that she was his sole reason for composing, for breathing, for living. She was everything to him; there was nothing too good or too expensive for her in his eyes.
The Phantom sat down once more when she pulled another box towards her hesitantly; he couldn't understand how she had come into his life.
Christine had been obvious, she had wanted to become a diva, he had given her everything he possibly could to help her and she had turned her back on him when she no longer needed him. Monica on the other hand refused to take anything that he offered to her.
He remembered the first time he had given Christine a diamond necklace, it had been much smaller than Monica's, the soprano had instantly accepted it and had expected for more ever since.
The two women were so different it made him wonder why he had fallen so hard for Christine in the first place.
A gasp brought him back into reality as she held a white pelt in her arms; he smirked slightly when he realized what it was.
"Oh god, Erik! I seriously can't accept any of this!" she told him holding the polar bear fur in her arms. She couldn't imagine the amount of money that she held in her grasp, the mere fact that he had wasted so much on her made her feel guilty and even more undeserving.
He dismissed several more protests that came from her and urged her to open the next gift.
She set the fur aside carefully as if it were made of glass and pulled over another box with more hesitation than before.
Her hands lifted the lid off of the box to reveal a blood red gown that had gold in the design and hem. She stood and twirled it around with her mouth open in shock and awe at the mere sight of the piece of clothing.
The Phantom settled back into the couch and watched as she stared at the dress in wonder. A garment of that size and design would have made any woman mad with jealousy; come to think of it he had never given Christine a gown like that.
"It's beautiful," she whispered as he nodded back, she set it back into the box with the exact same care she had used with the previous gifts and stared at the mass of boxes before her. She had barely opened three and she was already guessing how much money he had spent on her, she was sure the amount would be enough to buy the city of Paris.
The remainder of the gifts were as luxurious and expensive as the previous ones, by the time she was finished she could hardly count the items before her. The last box however intrigued her as she pulled it close and unwrapped it slowly.
She opened the black wooden box and smiled at the sight before her, a black mask stared back at her. It was similar to the one the Phantom had worn to Don Juan except her s was decorated with gold and rubies and it had a more feminine shape to it than his.
She stared up at him with amusement in her eyes, "I could pass of as the feared Opera Ghost with this," she told him picking up the mask and examining it closely. Everything about it screamed out 'Phantom of the Opera' to her, the fact that it belonged to her made her love the man in front of her even more.
"Hardly, you could not pass as me even if you tried," he shot back teasingly as she rose her brow at him in a questioning manner.
"Is that a challenge, monsieur?" she asked setting down the mask back into the box and walking over to him on the couch.
"Oui, it is," he replied as she sat next to him and shivered when a sudden chill settled over her.
She took out her phone and sent a message to her brother; she couldn't possibly expect her men to walk into their deaths tomorrow when their families needed them the most. She postponed retaliation for now, she couldn't bear to have them say goodbye to their families right after Christmas, it has inhuman and heartless.
The least she could do was hold it back for another day or two; she wouldn't wait any longer after that.
She tossed her phone aside when she was done and glanced up at the Phantom who had been staring at the fireplace the whole time. She pulled back suddenly when an idea came to her and reached behind her neck catching his attention as he turned to look at her curiously.
"I know it's not much," she told him as she unhooked the gold chain she wore around her and reached over him. She wrapped her arms around him and placed it on him with a satisfied smirk. "It pales in comparison to what you've given me," she told him blushing as she stared at his surprised expression, "it belonged to my father, it's just a piece of gold I know, but it means the world to me."
He stared down at the chain around his neck and then at the woman next to him, no one had ever given him anything like that. He treasured the piece of jewelry already knowing it belonged to her, knowing that it meant something to her.
She shivered again before he grabbed a wolf pelt out of the pile of gift that he had given to her and tossed it over her form. She curled up next to him again as he wrapped an arm around her small frame welcoming the warmth that she brought along with her.
"Thank you, Erik," she whispered yawning before settling her head against his chest, "for everything," she finalized before he glanced down at her sleeping form.
Having her body this close to his was torture in itself, every fiber of his being longed for her touch. His skin was on fire every time she made contact with him, a single touch was enough to drive him mad. He had stopped himself several times already from pulling her to him and capturing her lips with his own. To take her breath away and kiss her until the world stopped.
He had seen her disappointment every time he pulled away or rejected her. He would never hurt her like that, he didn't think himself capable of it, but he couldn't allow himself to lose himself with her just yet. There was always something that bothered him, something that impeded him from claiming her as his.
He couldn't shake the feeling that she would be torn away from him; the mere thought of it tormented him. He adored her too much to lose her; he couldn't possibly cope with her absence for long.
He wrapped his arm around her protectively and pulled her closer as she placed one of her own arms over his chest.
She was his, nothing could change that and no one could take her from him.
She had replaced Christine, it had taken some time but she had managed to tear down the barriers he had put around himself to block anyone from the outside. She had looked past his deformed face and had managed to love the man behind the mask.
The mere sight of her caused his inspiration to soar, he had never longed for another woman as much as he did with her. There was no room for anyone else.
The blond woman from the other day merely irritated him and stressed him. Lucy was just Christine's doppelganger with blond hair, an image that he hated with a burning passion. Monica already held his heart in her hand; nothing would be able to alter that.
She was his world.
Come what may, he would love her until his dying day.
Review! Let me know what you thought! Any ideas for what might happen at the end? I'd like to see what you guys have in mind ;D till next time.