Chapter Thirty-Four –

A Lost Illusion

-Christine-

I was deadly tired, by the time that I caught my first glimpse of warm yellow light flickering between the dark trees in the forest. César and I had traveled fast and far almost all the night before, and now all day through, and finally…finally…we were less than a hundred feet away from our destination.

The cottage of the Daae family.

My former home.

César was as tired as I, if not more so. He had been galloping without protest for hours upon end, and yet he held his head high upon his graceful white neck, ears pricking forward as he too saw the lights. I reached forward, ignoring the protests of my aching muscles, and patted him, burying my fingers beneath his silky mane.

"Bravo, César…oh, you have done well! We are there."

The magnificent white stallion seemed to have understood my words, as he so often did, and he tossed his head a bit, picking his pace up a bit so that we rode the last stretch of our journey in a gentle canter.

All at once, the trees of the Forbidden Forest melted away from us, and we shot into the clearing before my family's cottage in a blur of white and blue. I urged him all the way up to the front door, and dismounted on the stoop. César received a brief pat on the shoulder for his faithful assistance–I would not have been able to reach home in time without him—and then I left him in the yard, knowing that he would have the sense to stay put.

Turning my mind to the care of my stricken father and sister, I put one hand to the doorknob and quickly entered the house. All was dark and silent within; not a lantern or even a single coal in the fireplace afforded me the faintest light to find my way by, but I did not need it. Even after my time away, I still knew where everything was.

Nothing had changed here–except for that dismal darkness. It was an unusual, unnerving darkness: the kind that one was met with when one stepped into the room of a dying person.

But no one was going to die here, I had vowed to myself hours before; no one in this house would die tonight! I had left my Angel, my beloved Phantom, against all of my trepidations and guilt-wracked sensibilities, and for one reason—

I was going to heal my family.

Clutching the little pack that Erik had placed inside of César's saddlebags, inside of which resided the medicine that would drive every last vestige of the hellion delirium's germs from my father and sister, I made my way through the darkness and mounted the stairway. I looked to the left, then to the right, noting the doorway that led to the room that I had once shared with my two older sisters, and that which led to my brothers' room. From inside of my parents' chamber, I could see a dimly glowing light: the beacon in the darkness that had brought me home.

I inhaled briefly, and the sound of it was as loud as an explosion in the silence. I was acutely aware of everything that was around me: the faintest squeak of the floorboards beneath my feet, the soughing of the wind outside the window, the inky outline of the cupboard that stood to one side of the stairway, and the smell of eucalyptus and other healing herbs on the air. I didn't know how long my father and sister had been ill; I didn't know how my family would react the next morning when they awakened and found me there, without warning…but I didn't care, not right now. Right now, all I wanted to was to reach my father and sister.

Carefully, I pushed the door of my parents' room open, and looked in, silent and cautious.

All was as it had been in the vision that the vile sorceress from Erik's palace had shown us in her mirror: Antoinette sat upon the edge of the bed, laving my father's feverish brow, while Meg began to stir fitfully within her little cot, clutching one of her dolls to her and talking in her sleep. The light from the lantern that sat on the table beside the bed danced upon the floor, and touched briefly on my own silken skirts.

I eased the door open the rest of the way, and stepped inside. Then I closed the door and moved towards the center of the room. The noise of the door latching shut reached across the chamber to my stepmother's ears, and she started, and then whirled around. Her dark eyes widened when she saw me.

"Christina…" she breathed.

She looked so pale that I was concerned that she might faint, and so I hastily dashed to the side of the bed, and sat down beside her, grabbing her hands in my own. My words fairly tumbling over themselves, I explained—

"I heard that Father and Meg were sick; I came as fast as I could, but it was a long way through the forest, and we had to watch out for those awful lycans–but I'm here now, Antoinette–I'm here, and everything is going to be fine, everything is going to be well again! I've brought medicine–do you see?"

I dug into the bag I had with me, and brought out the vials of medicine that Erik had given to me, promising that they would entirely cure the sickness of my father and sister.

"I brought it with me, and once they have it in them, they'll be out of danger–they will heal! Oh, Antoinette! I was so worried, but now I know that everything is going to be all right–they are going to be all right, do you hear me? Everything is going to be all right!"

And, blissfully, she did believe that.

With my stepmother to help me, I bent over first my father and then my poor little sister, and carefully eased two spoonfuls each of the medicine that Erik had given me into their mouths. For a moment after, their faces twisted with an unconscious reaction to the acute bitterness of the remedy…but then they relaxed, each in turn, and fell into a deep, peaceful slumber.

And, not an hour later, when I put the back of my hand to little Meg's forehead, I felt that her skin was once again cool, and little beads of perspiration were beading upon her brow. The same occurred with my father, and by the time that the first grey tinges of light began to grow in the horizon, above the trees, I knew that they were safe, and that their illness had left them.

Antoinette and I embraced in pure joyousness, and within my mind, I thanked Erik for all that he had done for me and my family. Because of his selflessness, my family was safe.

Thank you, Erik, I whispered, as I sat down beside my little sister, watching her dream away: waiting for the time when both she and my father would awaken. Thank you so very much, my Angel.

And through the pre-dawn ether, I heard his voice whisper back in my mind: I will do anything for you, my Princess.

The silence returned; and then…

I love you.

Within only a very short while, I saw that the two dreamers had begun to awaken. Mindful of the fact that my presence there might cause even more of an uproar with my father and sister than it had with Antoinette, I sat down near my father. As his eyes began to move back and forth beneath their closed lids, I exchanged glances with Antoinette, and was still.

After what seemed to be an eternity of waiting, his eyes flickered slowly open, and for a moment he stared blankly at the simple cottage room with its plain furniture and single window, through which poured the steadily growing stream of early morning light: grey, and pale. Then, as he became more aware of reality, the comprehension and recognition in his face grew brighter, until his eyes suddenly shot wide open, and he gasped loudly, staring at me as if I were a ghost.

"Christine!" he burst out, his voice hoarse and low from disuse. "I must be dreaming! Tell me I am dreaming–cruel mirage!"

I reached out and took his hand firmly with a smile. Yes: my father was indeed healthy and fully himself now, if he was able to question everything about him again.

"Shh," I said softly, placing one hand upon his mouth for a moment, signaling him to remain quiet and still. "No, Father–you're not dreaming. It is I, Christina, talking to you. I'm here–I'm really here, Papa. Can you feel my hands? Are these the hands of a ghost–a mirage? Is this the apparel of a shade?"

All at once, the disbelieving and almost fearful look on his face disappeared entirely, and he reached out, and pulled me into a fierce hug. I closed my eyes and savored the love of my family, restored to me after so long, and felt tears gather behind my eyelids.

Oh, I did love them all so: every single one of them! My time away had only proved this to me, though I had already known it–but in a manner that was far less acute.

"Christina! My sweetest, dearest little one! Oh–I thought you were dead, and it was killing me, even as I lay ill! But—"

And he pulled back, suddenly, and scrutinized me, a fearful light in his eyes: he was clearly thinking of the past now, and the terrifying reality of the Phantom.

"But…you managed to escape? How…"

I shook my head.

"No, Papa, Erik set me free to visit you. He…we found out that you and little Meg were ill, and he let me come to help you. With the medicine that he gave me, we've made you better. He knew it would end the illness."

"So the monster has a heart," my father said, but it was painfully clear that he didn't believe a single word he had just said.

I regarded him, quietly and seriously, for a moment, before speaking.

How could I tell them…?

All I could do was tell them the truth.

"He suffers greatly, Father," I said, and an image of my Phantom appeared in my mind's eye, unbidden. I longed to step out of cold, harsh reality and go into his safe, reassuring, velvet embrace again…but now I could not.

I had to wait a month–and I could not, would not, spend the time I had with my beloved family ruing the fact that I could not have simply everything that I desired. I could not be so spoilt, and so selfish.

"It was as if…always as if…one half of him was in constant struggle with the other. I think that he is crueler to himself than he is to others now…he has changed, truly, Papa."

"But, Christina!" my father protested, feebly making an effort to sit up against his pillows: staring at me with now fully disbelieving, worried eyes. "I've seen him–he is an awful black monstrosity–he has no face! How can you…?"

I felt a pang of guilt towards my own past actions and thoughts arise in me then, for I remembered how I had looked upon Erik and his hideousness in the ball room that fateful evening, and how I had screamed at the sight of him. His face was like that of a creature from the worst of nightmares…but it wasn't his fault; he couldn't have stopped that horrible sorceress, that witch, from cursing him to look as he now did. It wasn't his fault…and his heart was, I knew, a good heart.

He was a good man.

And I cherished him so…

"Yes," I conceded, averting my gaze from my father's searching eyes and going about straightening the pillows and coverlets around him, as Antoinette sat by and listened, as she had during all of this: gently running her fingers through the still-slumbering Margot's golden locks.

As I worked, I continued, "I must be truthful–at first, hewas very frightening, Papa. He told me not to look at him, when we first met, and out of fear and respect and even a little awe, I obeyed him…and then one night, I saw him without the mask he wears, and I was terrified for my life, because he was so angry with me. But then…then I saw that it wasn't me that he was truly angry with…but himself. Now, he finds ways to make me burst out laughing!" I paused, and felt sadness seep into my soul, as I remembered more. "But then…sometimes…I look into his eyes, and they are so very, very sorrowful and lonely that I turn away so as not to weep in front of him."

"Christina."

My father bent forwards, and took my hands in his.

"Dearest child, my little beauty…don't tell me that you arewilling to live with this monster now!"

Sharply, I jerked my head up and looked straight into his face.

"I must, Papa." I said, firmly, almost fiercely. I would not break my promise to Erik, no matter what he–no matter what anyone–said. "Certain powers obey him, but others control him. If I left him, I would be committing an unpardonable crime against him, and against you. Do not even think to ask me of it."

My father looked aghast.

"Does he threaten you, child?"

I shook my head, slowly. "Before, he only came to visit me when his cruelty need not be feared–and he is always, always kind and giving and good to me now. Sometimes his bearing is regal…but sometimes he almost limps, as though he were the victim of some terrible affliction."

"How can you feel sorry for him?"

"I do not feel sorry for him, Papa…I understand him, because he has been hurt, and he is lonely…and I would be happy if I could make him forget his ugliness, if even for a moment." I knew the words were as true as my own life.

I would be happy if I could make Erik forget his face.

Forever.

My father shook his head at me, still seeming as if he didn't know whether to think my words true, or mere tall tales. "Christina, Christina," he sighed. "You are paying a high price for being so good, my child."

"But, Papa," I whispered. "He is good."

Tears had filled my eyes before I even knew what was happening, and then all at once, the fragile dam broke, and a single crystalline drop fell through my eyelashes, and landed on the back of my hand as it rested on the coverlet before us.

It sparkled.

My father gasped; he reached out, and took the shimmering bit of nothing into his own hand, and held it up, staring at it in the dawn sunshine.

"Heavens above!" he breathed. "A diamond!"

Antoinette suddenly stood, and I could feel that both of my parents were staring at me now, so intently that I might have almost wondered if I had suddenly grown wings. Then my father carefully put his hand to my cheek, where another tear glistened upon my skin. He gasped again, and exclaimed—

"Another one!"

I smiled, even through my hazy, burning vision, and murmured—

"It is proof that he is protected, for I wept thinking of him."

"Perhaps they are cursed–a hex!" he said, the old fearfulness of the Phantom returning into his look and tone; but before he could say more, I stretched out my hand and took both of the teardrop-shaped diamonds, and placed them in his palm, closing his fingers over them securely.

"Rest assured, Papa, keep them." I said. "They are a gift from Erik. Now, with these diamonds, you will be able to support our family with ease and none of the difficulty that you've known until now. But don't tell Carlotta and Portia. If they knew, they will do all they can to wheedle them out of you for their dowries, so that they may marry rich and arrogant men, and leave you, and then you will have nothing. Keep them safe, and use them for everyone. Use them to send little Meg to school, and to help Richard and Giles make homes for themselves."

Both of my parents smiled at me then, tears shining in their own eyes–not enchanted tears, but tears of happiness and relief. They enveloped me in a joint hug, and I cherished the feeling of having both of them near to me again. I had had to leave my happy new life, and the prospects of my future with Erik, behind me for a time…but in turn, for that sacrifice, I had been given a month with my family.

And I intended to use it for the best.

Then, when a few moments had passed, I heard a sleepy little voice calling out from the cot at the end of the bed—

"Mama? I tawt I heard Chrissy talkin'…was I dreaming?"

Grinning in pure elation through my tears, I extricated myself from my parents' loving embrace, and turned towards my little sister, who had finally awakened from her days of illness and slumber.

"No, Meg," I replied. "It wasn't a dream: I'm here! I've come home!"

After that, I was not at all tired: I could not sleep now, in this time of happiness and celebration. So, instead, I crept back outside, when Meg finally conceded to let me out of her sight for five minutes, and tended to César.

The noble, almost humanly-intelligent white stallion was not at all pleased to be placed in the small barn that my family had now added onto our property; the gabbling, scratching chickens and noisy geese, the two cows and one calf, and even the two sturdy farm-horses that were already there seemed to perplex and annoy him.

I had no intention of leaving him to fare as well as he could out of doors, however, and so into the barn he had gone, in spite of his protestations. I promised myself, and him, that I would be back soon for a gallop through the woods. Now that I knew I was recognized as the princess of Shadowrose Castle by the Forbidden Forest, I no longer feared it.

I returned inside, and Antoinette helped me to unload the saddlebags that Erik had packed for me. I was glad to see that he had even magically included a change of raiment for me, though I had some not-so-minor reservations towards wearing the finest velvet available, sewn with all manner of gems, about the cottage and farm. I set aside the richer objects in the bags, and accepted one of my old gowns from Antoinette, who left me so that I could wash up and change my attire.

By the time that the sun had brightened into its usual early morning pale yellow, I was ready to face the day, and made my way down the cottage steps. Father and Meg had been restricted to resting, still, by both me and by my stepmother, and thus it was that it was only Antoinette whom I found in the kitchen. My sisters and brothers had already risen for the day, and were outside, going about their chores.

"Go say good-morning to them, Christina." Antoinette said.

Her back was turned to me as she rolled out more of the dough for the biscuits that she was making for lunch on the countertop, but I could be only too certain of the slight mischief in her tone. And I could also only imagine the reaction Carlotta and Portia would give when they caught sight of me there, standing right before them—the last place that they would expect to see me now!

I grinned as well, and flounced out the door.

A great surprise indeed! Unless my brothers had altered incredibly much during my time away, I knew that they would be happy to see me, at least…Carlotta and Portia, however, were another story entirely. If I knew them, they might just drop dead at the sight of me. At any rate, they would be stunned.

To say the very least.

As I rounded the corner of the house, walking slowly but deliberately towards the barn, I saw that my sisters were occupied with hanging up the washing: dressed in simple country-maiden clothing, with kerchiefs bound about their hair. Giles was feeding the chickens, and Richard was working on repairing a chair.

I called out to them, "Bonjour, Carlotta, Portia–bonjour, Giles, Richard."

Portia climbed up on a stool, behind the line of washing that she was standing behind, and peeked over its top, while Carlotta abruptly set down her basket of laundry and sidestepped the dripping sheet that hung in front of her, staring with a frown in my direction. They could not see me clearly, from where I stood. Giles, though, dropped the bowl of chicken feed, and a look of utter amazement and joy came over his face.

"Christina!" he shouted to them. "It's Christina!"

"Christina?" questioned Richard, pushed aside the sheet so that he could see in front of it. His dark hair fell over his forehead, half shadowing his eyes, and he had a smear of dirt on his cheekbone. "It can't be!"

"It is!" Carlotta gasped.

They all dashed up to me at once and I found myself surrounded in an instant, bombarded by questions from every side.

"Christina! Where have you come from?" Giles asked me, breathlessly.

I threw my arms around his neck, and hugged him so fiercely that he almost fell off-balance, staggering backwards at the onslaught of my weight.

"From Shadowrose castle! Erik let me come back to help Father and Meg heal from their illness, and now we have given them the medicine he sent with me, and they are well again! And I am to stay here, with you all, for a month!"

"A month!"

It was Richard's turn to speak, and his eyes were wide.

"He's trusted you to be away from him for that long? Isn't he—"

And he paused, looking distrustful and somewhat uneasy. I realized, suddenly, belatedly, that he must have heard the story of my encounters with Erik from Raoul.

"Isn't he an awful monster, who harbors insane jealousy for you and will slay any man who comes between him and you? How could he have let you go?"

"Oh, Richard!" I gasped. "He's not that way at all! Not now, at least," I amended. "He has been very, very good to me–he's sent me back to stay with our family for a month, so that I might be happy, and so that Father and Meg would be spared from their illness. Because of his mercy, they are well now, and I am home."

"So, he isn't savage?" Giles asked, and I smiled at him, gently.

"Oh no, Giles; he's a good man, and very kind."

"But you're not going back to him, are you?" Carlotta inquired, breaking into the discussion suddenly. Neither she nor Portia had spoken before that. I turned, and looked at her evenly, with a bit of sorrow in my eyes.

"I must, Cara–I promised him. He has set me free for one month, and if I don't return…"

Suddenly, I realized just what it was that I had been about to say, and I hastily closed my mouth. The four people who stood around me were part of my family, and I loved them all as a younger sister should…but I would not give away Erik's secrets.

They were not mine to betray.

"Christina!" my sister said, angrily. "Do you love him–this monster, who has so nearly destroyed our family, and our own father's health and sanity? Can you even say that you care for him, after all that he has done?"

I shook my head, watching her carefully, and chose my words with the same caution. I knew what was held within my own heart, but I would not speak of it to Carlotta, nor to anyone else. They would not be able to understand, yet.

"No, Carlotta…" I replied, softly. "I'm fond of him…very fond of him…but I do not love him. It's not the same thing."

Please forgive me, Erik! I begged within my mind.

Christine…don't leave me…I…I need you… his voice echoed within my mind. I restrained myself from closing my eyes and weeping outright.

I am here, Erik; please, please believe me. I will not leave you.

And thus I was reunited with my older siblings.

Later…

"Now, Christina–since we're alone and those harpies have left us at last," Richard said, with a disdainful toss of his head towards the closed barn doors. "Tell us everything, and don't leave out a single detail. Tell us of this Phantom of yours."

I took a moment to gather my words, disguising my hesitation by carefully perching myself upon the bouncy hay that filled the loft in which we sat, and brushing out my skirts. Then I looked up at them again.

"His name is Erik, and he treats me very well. He taught me how to sing, and it is his power alone that protects me from the darkness that surrounds his castle. He trusts me implicitly. I would be a monster if I don't return to him."

Richard brushed this off, impatiently. Neither he nor anyone else in my family could precisely comprehend my compassion and my care for Erik, and–I saw–they didn't really want to, either. But this was not a matter for me to vex myself over. One day, they would learn.

"What about your servants?" he asked. "Are there many?"

I gazed off into the distance, envisioning the castle again.

"Invisible hands serve me, dress me, arrange my hair, and open and close the doors for me. I never see anyone but Erik."

"And this…this Fantôme…he speaks like a human being? He walks, speaks, and dare-I-presume sings like a normal man?" Giles asked.

Smiling in fond exasperation at the preposterousness of their imaginings about the Phantom, I replied—

"Yes, Giles: he speaks just like you and I do. And he sits at the table with a normal chair, and eats his dinner with the same kind of silverware as I do. His rooms smell of fine cologne, and he always wears a handsome black cloak, no matter what the weather. He enjoys reading, and he is left-handed."

He is a man, a human, just like everyone else.

A/N: Most of the script within here (the speaking bits) have been borrowed by the authoress from the Jean Cocteau's 1946 (?) version of La Belle et le Bete-a truly beautiful film that is very much worth watching. Voila. More to follow tomorrow. Promise.