Disclaimer: Although I would love to own Erik for certain... private
reasons... He, and his POTO companions, are not mine.
My Comments: ENJOY!!
Chapter 2: Finale
"I'm so tired of being here.
Suppressed by all of my childish fears,
And if you have to leave,
I wish that you would just leave,
Because your presence still lingers here,
And it won't leave me alone,
These wounds won't seem to heal.
This pain is just too real.
There's just too much that time cannot erase."
~Evanescence 'My Immortal'
"I believe in you,
I'll give up everything just to find you,
I have to be with you to breathe,
You're taking over me."
~Evanescence 'Imaginary'
The clock chimed, announcing the coming of midnight, welcoming Christine to consciousness. Slowly her eyes opened, and with a bit of trouble tried to see through the haze that covered her eyes. Blinking a few times the moisture finally returned to them and she took a bit of time to look around her. The odd comfort of a dark atmosphere greeted her tired eyes that stung from all of the tears she'd shed. A deep sigh escaped her as she sat up on her hip, every bone in her body stiff from the uncomfortable position she'd stayed in for the last 3 hours. Everything still seemed so unreal. What would come of the morning? She would then be forced to make a decision. Already she was contemplating what her choice might turn out to be. The best way, she thought, would be to sacrifice her own happiness for another's. No matter what happened, what sort of treachery was presented to her, Raoul had to live, though she knew that he would have Erik kill him first before the Vicomte ever let her go.
Why did everything have to be so complicated and tragic? Her life seemed to be compiled of nothing but dramas. So much so that she was all too quickly becoming numb and even used to it. Her happiness mattered little now. All that had any importance was serving others, helping others. Saving others.
Erik's black cat, Rascal, was curled up in a darling little ball of fluff on the sofa before the fire. His name seemed to fit him well. He was only a kitten at this point, literally a black puff of fur with an energy that expired as quickly as it replenished. He mewed at her gently, watching her with bluish gray eyes that shined like a dark silver.
"Oh, Erik... Why must everything end in death? In pain?" she whispered to the silence that enveloped her.
She now felt completely and utterly alone, and she imagined this was what Erik felt everyday of his life. This reality was what he woke up to, fell asleep to, looked forward to. No one deserved to live a life of such solitude. When she and Erik were married, would she still feel as alone? A small smile crept to her lips. Now she had the chance to fill the void in her Dark Angel's life.... and to create one in Raoul's. The smile, as quickly as it had appeared, vanished.
"Oh, Erik..." she sobbed, wrapping her arms around herself and rocking feverishly to and fro, "It's so cold... Why is it so cold?"
She began to feel very meek and small now within that dim, sickeningly silent room. Nausea filled her gut and she could hardly breath. It was as if her whole world had tumbled down upon her in one night.
"Papa! Papa!! Please, I am so weary..." she cried out, as if the spirit of her father in Heaven could be of some aid in the situation.
Caught up in her sorrow, she did not hear the soft footsteps behind her or notice the lighting of the oil lamp next to the settee. Nor did she feel the presence behind her of the one man she didn't realize she needed most. He lifted a warm, musical hand to curl sensual finger around the smooth shape of her shoulder.
"Christine..." the whisper came dismally, his breath only centimeters from her ear, "Hush, now. I am here."
Christine's breath caught in her throat and she covered her mouth. She'd hardly expected him to depart from his room so early in the morning, but then again, she really had never had the feeling he slept very often. Had he heard her pitiful whimpers? Embarrassment filled her and her cheeks grew rosy and hot. How weak he must think she is... Another tear fell, this time stopped in its path by one of his cool fingertips. It felt lovely against her hot skin. Something was different now. Something about this singular moment was so very opposite to the many times she and Erik had been together before. It was almost as if the barriers he had always kept between them had melted away. He wasn't afraid to touch her, to comfort her when she so badly needed him.
"Christine, speak to me."
She realized that she had begun to worry him then. She'd scarcely been breathing.
"Yes, Erik..." she squeaked.
He sighed with relief and pulled his hand from her shoulder, to her disappointment. Before she could stop herself, she loudly protested.
"No. Erik..."
He gave her a rather puzzled look as she turned to face him, sniffling once or twice so that she did not sound like a complete fool when she spoke.
"You... You said that I needed to try harder to.... to understand you."
Erik glanced down, a completely different, very vulnerable side of him so easily seen. In fact, Christine had never seen him like this before. Without the magic, the music, the power he was... just a man. Hadn't he said that before?
All of those things were a part of him that would never die, but really, deep inside he was a lonely, rejected soul that badly needed the comfort and love the dearest people in his life had neglected to give him.
"You also said," he replied, looking back to her, "That if you understood me you could love me. Please, don't say you were simply talking and not meaning what you said."
She saw a tear fall from one of his deep, dark eyes that told so many true, tragic stories. Those eyes always managed to stir an uneasy feeling in her. They seemed to have an immortal fire within which no one had yet discovered. Would she be the first?
"I meant it." Christine whispered, "And, I really want to understand you. I will try harder."
He said nothing, letting her words sink in so he might never forget them.
"Precious words, those are. The first of that kind I've ever heard. But, you never will." he replied, standing and turning to sit on the settee, looking more weary than he'd ever appeared, "It is impossible to unravel the mysteries of a soul as complex as mine. And that is no compliment to myself. Sometimes having a soul with so many sides results in a very large, very thick wall that is placed between the vulnerable parts of the human essence and other people."
Christine stood gracefully from her position on the floor, in spite of the stiffness in her joints, "So, you say it is impossible for me to love you?"
Carefully she approached as she saw the flicker of challenge in his eyes.
"That rests entirely upon you, my love."
"Do you really love me?"
Erik was taken aback, a look of, what was it... disappointment, it seemed, filling his eyes. Her own danced under the firelight glow.
"You know I do." he stood, "But if this is another of your games, I will not let the boy go. You know this, as well."
"You would not let him go because you loved me enough to do so?" she inquired cleverly.
He was not liking her new change of attitude, this freedom to assume as much as she wanted of him. Looking away, he was defeated, knowing fully that he was selfish enough never to do so.
"Anyhow, that isn't my reason for asking." she finished, sighing and turning her eyes toward her hands which sat idly folded in front of her.
"I want to understand you more, Erik. Yet, I am not sure to start. Help me understand..." she whispered.
"There are so many things you might've discovered before, had you paid attention, but failed to see."
Christine caught the icy chill in his voice and it stung, buts he urged him to go on with her eyes.
"My face, Christine.... Has always been a hindrance to me. A curse. An immortal burden. When you tore away that porcelain barricade between your innocence and my passion, my heart cried out with you as you shrieked, unforgiving of the monster that I was. I can hardly blame you for your anger, but your disgust... It was then that I understood you were just like everyone else, no matter how much I hoped or how often I prayed to God to give you to me. To lead me through the darkness to the happiness I so crave. You'd see me as nothing more than a hideous creature that resided as a hermit in a slimy hell hole beneath an arrogant Opera, and because I could not live without you despite your indifference toward me, I continued to foolishly pursue you. You only perceived it as madness when I did everything in my power to keep you from leaving me. It half was. But I was insane for your love. Your every heartbeat pounds a perfect rhythm to my soul's harrowing song, and we make beautiful music together... We could have so much more."
Christine dumbly stared at him as he turned and began to travel back to his quarters. She felt supercilious now that he had pointed out the largest of her flaws. Feeling very insulted and hurt, she followed after and grabbed his arm, flinging him around and slapping him hard across the face. After a moment of shock and dumbstruck silence her eyes began to widen with the recognition of what she'd done. Never had she intended to strike her Angel, never had it even crossed her mind. It had simply been an instinct. Yet, to cover her shame, she continued to press the matter.
"How dare you accuse me like this?? I am most certainly -not- like everyone else! You wouldn't love me if I was... Yes, I screamed Erik, I was repulsed by your appearance because you -are- ugly, Erik. And because the Angel I thought had existed from my dreams had vanished before my eyes to be replaced with the murderous Opera Ghost, the father of all nightmares!"
Christine could see the unmistakable pain in his eyes, could feel the heated rage emanating from him, knew that what she'd done was out of place, uncalled for and that the words she'd shot from her mouth without a care were most definitely unneeded. She hadn't even meant the words she spoke when she denied her self-centeredness. Because, it was undeniably true. And now her own pain, as well as his, was even greater than before.
"This..." his voice wavered on the border of bitter tears and a brewing ferocity, "Is precisely the reason why you will never understand or have the ability to love me, Christine. Your pride."
One livid tear rolled down his cheek before he turned and threw open his door. Her pride? All this time she'd thought he was the prideful one, and that was why he was so possessive and refused to liberate her. But no... It was she who had been the self-righteous one, and somehow, in the back of her mind, all this time she'd known. Just refused to admit it. And now, now it all made sense. This was why she could never value him. Because she'd been too selfish to see that he couldn't possibly be the egotistical one. He'd given her everything he had to offer, starting out with hardly anything in the first place, and she'd squandered it all, missing the opportunities to appreciate them.
Sinking to her knees, she knew she'd finally found a choice, and it was the right one.
"I know what to do now, Papa."
Erik walked to the torture chamber's back entrance, or rather observation booth, peering through the window like a wolf sizing up its prey before the initial attack. The door was now hot to the touch. If he didn't lower the temperature quickly, he wasn't sure they would stay alive long enough for Christine to have a choice at all. He subconsciously touched the area Christine had struck, which was the exposed cheek on the left which now glowed a light pink. Why had she lashed out so? It had seemed so different from the normal, lovely Christine he knew.
He reached upward and opened a tiny compartment above the doorway that was tucked behind the doorframe. There was a miniature lever in it which he pulled. Instantly the light inside the room was gone. Promptly afterward followed a suffering yell. He could barely tell the boy was crying out for Christine, as his voice was too filled with agony to really understand what he was saying. Wickedly, Erik smiled. He wondered briefly if the heat had already driven the boy to insanity. It was about time he released the men, he supposed.
Raoul began to breath evenly now that the hot air was being retracted through the various holes in the ceiling, and replaced with freezing, arctic-like air, sending each man into wracking shivers. Footsteps echoed through to the torture chamber from the room opposite it, and then the click of a latch, along with a door being slid aside. And then, a mirror disappeared from its place, only leaving a mere fog in its place, and there stood a dark, casual figure in the place of it.
"Good evening, gentlemen, or rather is it, Good morning?" a voice smooth as a violin's purr greeted them all too cheerily.
The chiming of the clock indicated that it was now a quarter after 12:00 in the morning. Then, the spectral figure entered. It was already obvious who it was. There was no one else it could have been.
"Monster!" bellowed Raoul, leaping from his place on the floor and lunging for him.
Erik merely grasped his wrist in a grip of iron and twisted it behind his back, leaving the Vicomte helpless under his strength, "Not a wise choice, monsieur. I'm here to temporarily free you. I would think you'd be a bit more appreciative. But of course, there is always the option of staying."
Nadir stood to his feet, desperation and exhaustion in his eyes, but he spoke boldly, "Erik! Enough! Who in their right mind would rather rot in this hell than taste the sweetness of a free air?"
Erik smirked, dropping the defeated and weary Vicomte to the floor, "But who's to say you are in your right minds? I daresay, a tropical forest such as this can do so much damage to one's wits."
Soon he was gone, and the two men stepped gratefully through the opening.
"It is morning, now. Christine should be ready to make her decision. I will summon her as soon as you two are ready."
Christine listened through her bedroom door to the men outside, wondering if the two were alright. They were so quiet. So submissive.
"Papa, it is nearly over."
She sighed and walked to the vanity table, sitting before the small mirror and glancing over her features. Carefully she dipped a cloth into a pot of hot water, which had originally been meant for the dry tea bag that sat beside it, and began to wipe the heavy stage makeup from her face. After thoroughly cleaning the soft surface of her skin, she winced at seeing the bags beneath her eyes and did her best to take the distraction away from them and toward her cheeks and lips with a bit of rouge.
After finding herself presentable enough, she stood and went to the door just as Erik had knocked upon it.
"I am ready, Erik..." she whispered, never once meeting his eyes.
"Good." he grimly remarked, stepping aside for her to walk through.
A light came to her eyes when she saw the Vicomte, despite the condition he seemed to be in. Flinging herself into his arms she pressed elated kissed all across his face, laughing happily. It was so good to see him out of that horrid torture chamber, and free for the moment's time. Soon, he would be free forever.
"Raoul! Are you well? You look ill..."
More than that, he looked deathly pale.
"I'm fine, darling. Oh, but you are so beautiful and radiant!" he took the opportunity to kiss her fervently, sneaking a glance at the brooding Erik who stood, watching the sickeningly beautiful scene.
Christine pulled away, gasping for breath as she did so, "Raoul... This really isn't the time to..."
He sighed, kissing the back of her hand, "I know. But I felt I had to..." his eyes again briefly returned to monsieur le Fantome's, "I could not help myself."
Erik saw it was time to interrupt their little charade and pulled Christine from him, "You know what I wish for you to do, now, Christine."
"Christine, let me die! It is better than to have me live without you!" Raoul cried out emphatically.
Just as she thought he would react. Erik and Raoul watched her for a few moments as she turned her head down, as if thinking, when truly she was gathering herself for the answer she would give. Finally, her eyes met with Raoul's, and he smiled when she wrapped her arms about his neck. No! This could not be! After all that they had been through together, she wished to live with the arrogant Vicomte!
"So be it, Christine..." he gripped Raoul's arm and began to drag him away, but a soft hand took his own instead and stopped him.
"Erik..." she only continued once she was certain he was looking at her and listening, "There is so much I have not discovered about you... So many mysteries, as you put it, that I have yet to unravel. This compels me to.... To search..."
Her eyes matched that of the fire in his own as she leant her mouth up to his, inviting him into a kiss full of feeling. Erik was apprehensive at first, unsure of the truth behind her decision, but the yearning inside of him overpowered his doubts, and he returned her display of affection, stirring the Vicomte's loathing. Raoul stepped backward into the Persian, both men horrified and awed at the same time. Neither had expected her to do something so unexpected as that. But unlike Raoul, Nadir accepted the reality of it.
"Christine, Christine, no! You can't possibly mean it... You're giving everything to him! Your life, your love, your virtue!" Raoul cried out in terror.
She pulled from Erik as he was about to speak, but pressed a finger to his lips, "Hush, now, my love. We have an eternity to speak to.."
A sound that matched that of lightning coursed through Erik's labyrinth, deafening the ears of those that remained in the small house by the lake. Raoul and the Persian each fled to the door, opening it to see where it was coming from.
"Gunshots..." Nadir breathed, a fear too great to comprehend filling him.
"Gunshots?" Christine repeated, leaving Erik for the moment to peer out across the lake.
"There! Look! The home of the Ghost! Leave nothing intact!"
The shout reached their ears just in time to recognize the mob traveling through the portcullis which they had manipulated into opening. It was the Opera staff, fully armed and seeming to be out of their minds.
"They're coming for you, Erik." Nadir whispered, turning a grim and solemn face toward Erik, "They've come to exorcize their Ghost."
For a moment, Christine turned to Erik, expecting a clever escape plan and thinking that he had already known they would be coming. But instead of the curiously all-knowing look on his face she often saw at times like these, she recognized a true look of fear. Erik had never been afraid of anything but losing her. He'd never been intimidated by common human beings. Now, it looked as if he were clueless as to how they would flee this nightmare.
"Erik?" she whimpered.
"Leave, Christine." he huskily whispered, walking forward and past her, their shoulders brushing momentarily.
One would almost think, on instinct entirely, that he was leaving them. But instead, he stopped in front of the Vicomte and hand him something small before whispering in his ear. It seemed something of importance. Afterward, he turned to see Christine, regretful eyes upon her.
"Take her and go, monsieur le Vicomte. Leave and never come back..."
Christine's hands flew to her mouth and heart, shaking her head slowly in utter disbelief, "Erik, don't talk this way..."
Raoul slowly approached her and took her hand in his, stroking her cheek, "We must go, now... It is the only way."
"No!"
Christine yanked herself from Raoul's grasp and berried herself in Erik's strong arms, "I won't let you leave me..."
Erik lifted his fingertips to lightly caress her cheek, and he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, "You never loved me... You never could, never will... You still know very little of me, and have yet to ever understand."
Erik gave Raoul a quick nod and he took her arms, forcing her out the door and toward the boat.
"Erik, please! I entreat you! Do not forsake me like this!"
It pained him to hear her speak so despairingly, but he knew that it was time she was let loose to experience life to the fullest. She could never thrive underground in a world comprised of only darkness and dreams.
"I love you, Christine..." he whispered, before he shouted for her to go, "Take her and go, before it's too late!! Go! Go NOW!"
Christine had stopped her struggling now, limp and lifeless and completely submissive to Raoul's touch. He pulled her into the boat, gesturing for Nadir to join them. But the Persian man shook his head.
"Erik is and always has been my only friend. I will not dessert him in his time of need." Nadir replied to the Vicomte's baffled expression.
Christine only saw darkness now, though it was very little difference compared to her surroundings. Everything inside of her hurt, but it was not a physical pain. Indeed, it was a very deep pain that spread from the core, her heart, to every part of her that could feel emotional torment. And with every breath, her mind slipped farther and farther from consciousness. The only evidence of reality she sensed were the ever present repetitions of the disparaging cries which belonged only to one tortured, battered soul...
((ahh, now doesn't that feel better? two whole chapters! *sighs with relief*))
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My Comments: ENJOY!!
Chapter 2: Finale
"I'm so tired of being here.
Suppressed by all of my childish fears,
And if you have to leave,
I wish that you would just leave,
Because your presence still lingers here,
And it won't leave me alone,
These wounds won't seem to heal.
This pain is just too real.
There's just too much that time cannot erase."
~Evanescence 'My Immortal'
"I believe in you,
I'll give up everything just to find you,
I have to be with you to breathe,
You're taking over me."
~Evanescence 'Imaginary'
The clock chimed, announcing the coming of midnight, welcoming Christine to consciousness. Slowly her eyes opened, and with a bit of trouble tried to see through the haze that covered her eyes. Blinking a few times the moisture finally returned to them and she took a bit of time to look around her. The odd comfort of a dark atmosphere greeted her tired eyes that stung from all of the tears she'd shed. A deep sigh escaped her as she sat up on her hip, every bone in her body stiff from the uncomfortable position she'd stayed in for the last 3 hours. Everything still seemed so unreal. What would come of the morning? She would then be forced to make a decision. Already she was contemplating what her choice might turn out to be. The best way, she thought, would be to sacrifice her own happiness for another's. No matter what happened, what sort of treachery was presented to her, Raoul had to live, though she knew that he would have Erik kill him first before the Vicomte ever let her go.
Why did everything have to be so complicated and tragic? Her life seemed to be compiled of nothing but dramas. So much so that she was all too quickly becoming numb and even used to it. Her happiness mattered little now. All that had any importance was serving others, helping others. Saving others.
Erik's black cat, Rascal, was curled up in a darling little ball of fluff on the sofa before the fire. His name seemed to fit him well. He was only a kitten at this point, literally a black puff of fur with an energy that expired as quickly as it replenished. He mewed at her gently, watching her with bluish gray eyes that shined like a dark silver.
"Oh, Erik... Why must everything end in death? In pain?" she whispered to the silence that enveloped her.
She now felt completely and utterly alone, and she imagined this was what Erik felt everyday of his life. This reality was what he woke up to, fell asleep to, looked forward to. No one deserved to live a life of such solitude. When she and Erik were married, would she still feel as alone? A small smile crept to her lips. Now she had the chance to fill the void in her Dark Angel's life.... and to create one in Raoul's. The smile, as quickly as it had appeared, vanished.
"Oh, Erik..." she sobbed, wrapping her arms around herself and rocking feverishly to and fro, "It's so cold... Why is it so cold?"
She began to feel very meek and small now within that dim, sickeningly silent room. Nausea filled her gut and she could hardly breath. It was as if her whole world had tumbled down upon her in one night.
"Papa! Papa!! Please, I am so weary..." she cried out, as if the spirit of her father in Heaven could be of some aid in the situation.
Caught up in her sorrow, she did not hear the soft footsteps behind her or notice the lighting of the oil lamp next to the settee. Nor did she feel the presence behind her of the one man she didn't realize she needed most. He lifted a warm, musical hand to curl sensual finger around the smooth shape of her shoulder.
"Christine..." the whisper came dismally, his breath only centimeters from her ear, "Hush, now. I am here."
Christine's breath caught in her throat and she covered her mouth. She'd hardly expected him to depart from his room so early in the morning, but then again, she really had never had the feeling he slept very often. Had he heard her pitiful whimpers? Embarrassment filled her and her cheeks grew rosy and hot. How weak he must think she is... Another tear fell, this time stopped in its path by one of his cool fingertips. It felt lovely against her hot skin. Something was different now. Something about this singular moment was so very opposite to the many times she and Erik had been together before. It was almost as if the barriers he had always kept between them had melted away. He wasn't afraid to touch her, to comfort her when she so badly needed him.
"Christine, speak to me."
She realized that she had begun to worry him then. She'd scarcely been breathing.
"Yes, Erik..." she squeaked.
He sighed with relief and pulled his hand from her shoulder, to her disappointment. Before she could stop herself, she loudly protested.
"No. Erik..."
He gave her a rather puzzled look as she turned to face him, sniffling once or twice so that she did not sound like a complete fool when she spoke.
"You... You said that I needed to try harder to.... to understand you."
Erik glanced down, a completely different, very vulnerable side of him so easily seen. In fact, Christine had never seen him like this before. Without the magic, the music, the power he was... just a man. Hadn't he said that before?
All of those things were a part of him that would never die, but really, deep inside he was a lonely, rejected soul that badly needed the comfort and love the dearest people in his life had neglected to give him.
"You also said," he replied, looking back to her, "That if you understood me you could love me. Please, don't say you were simply talking and not meaning what you said."
She saw a tear fall from one of his deep, dark eyes that told so many true, tragic stories. Those eyes always managed to stir an uneasy feeling in her. They seemed to have an immortal fire within which no one had yet discovered. Would she be the first?
"I meant it." Christine whispered, "And, I really want to understand you. I will try harder."
He said nothing, letting her words sink in so he might never forget them.
"Precious words, those are. The first of that kind I've ever heard. But, you never will." he replied, standing and turning to sit on the settee, looking more weary than he'd ever appeared, "It is impossible to unravel the mysteries of a soul as complex as mine. And that is no compliment to myself. Sometimes having a soul with so many sides results in a very large, very thick wall that is placed between the vulnerable parts of the human essence and other people."
Christine stood gracefully from her position on the floor, in spite of the stiffness in her joints, "So, you say it is impossible for me to love you?"
Carefully she approached as she saw the flicker of challenge in his eyes.
"That rests entirely upon you, my love."
"Do you really love me?"
Erik was taken aback, a look of, what was it... disappointment, it seemed, filling his eyes. Her own danced under the firelight glow.
"You know I do." he stood, "But if this is another of your games, I will not let the boy go. You know this, as well."
"You would not let him go because you loved me enough to do so?" she inquired cleverly.
He was not liking her new change of attitude, this freedom to assume as much as she wanted of him. Looking away, he was defeated, knowing fully that he was selfish enough never to do so.
"Anyhow, that isn't my reason for asking." she finished, sighing and turning her eyes toward her hands which sat idly folded in front of her.
"I want to understand you more, Erik. Yet, I am not sure to start. Help me understand..." she whispered.
"There are so many things you might've discovered before, had you paid attention, but failed to see."
Christine caught the icy chill in his voice and it stung, buts he urged him to go on with her eyes.
"My face, Christine.... Has always been a hindrance to me. A curse. An immortal burden. When you tore away that porcelain barricade between your innocence and my passion, my heart cried out with you as you shrieked, unforgiving of the monster that I was. I can hardly blame you for your anger, but your disgust... It was then that I understood you were just like everyone else, no matter how much I hoped or how often I prayed to God to give you to me. To lead me through the darkness to the happiness I so crave. You'd see me as nothing more than a hideous creature that resided as a hermit in a slimy hell hole beneath an arrogant Opera, and because I could not live without you despite your indifference toward me, I continued to foolishly pursue you. You only perceived it as madness when I did everything in my power to keep you from leaving me. It half was. But I was insane for your love. Your every heartbeat pounds a perfect rhythm to my soul's harrowing song, and we make beautiful music together... We could have so much more."
Christine dumbly stared at him as he turned and began to travel back to his quarters. She felt supercilious now that he had pointed out the largest of her flaws. Feeling very insulted and hurt, she followed after and grabbed his arm, flinging him around and slapping him hard across the face. After a moment of shock and dumbstruck silence her eyes began to widen with the recognition of what she'd done. Never had she intended to strike her Angel, never had it even crossed her mind. It had simply been an instinct. Yet, to cover her shame, she continued to press the matter.
"How dare you accuse me like this?? I am most certainly -not- like everyone else! You wouldn't love me if I was... Yes, I screamed Erik, I was repulsed by your appearance because you -are- ugly, Erik. And because the Angel I thought had existed from my dreams had vanished before my eyes to be replaced with the murderous Opera Ghost, the father of all nightmares!"
Christine could see the unmistakable pain in his eyes, could feel the heated rage emanating from him, knew that what she'd done was out of place, uncalled for and that the words she'd shot from her mouth without a care were most definitely unneeded. She hadn't even meant the words she spoke when she denied her self-centeredness. Because, it was undeniably true. And now her own pain, as well as his, was even greater than before.
"This..." his voice wavered on the border of bitter tears and a brewing ferocity, "Is precisely the reason why you will never understand or have the ability to love me, Christine. Your pride."
One livid tear rolled down his cheek before he turned and threw open his door. Her pride? All this time she'd thought he was the prideful one, and that was why he was so possessive and refused to liberate her. But no... It was she who had been the self-righteous one, and somehow, in the back of her mind, all this time she'd known. Just refused to admit it. And now, now it all made sense. This was why she could never value him. Because she'd been too selfish to see that he couldn't possibly be the egotistical one. He'd given her everything he had to offer, starting out with hardly anything in the first place, and she'd squandered it all, missing the opportunities to appreciate them.
Sinking to her knees, she knew she'd finally found a choice, and it was the right one.
"I know what to do now, Papa."
Erik walked to the torture chamber's back entrance, or rather observation booth, peering through the window like a wolf sizing up its prey before the initial attack. The door was now hot to the touch. If he didn't lower the temperature quickly, he wasn't sure they would stay alive long enough for Christine to have a choice at all. He subconsciously touched the area Christine had struck, which was the exposed cheek on the left which now glowed a light pink. Why had she lashed out so? It had seemed so different from the normal, lovely Christine he knew.
He reached upward and opened a tiny compartment above the doorway that was tucked behind the doorframe. There was a miniature lever in it which he pulled. Instantly the light inside the room was gone. Promptly afterward followed a suffering yell. He could barely tell the boy was crying out for Christine, as his voice was too filled with agony to really understand what he was saying. Wickedly, Erik smiled. He wondered briefly if the heat had already driven the boy to insanity. It was about time he released the men, he supposed.
Raoul began to breath evenly now that the hot air was being retracted through the various holes in the ceiling, and replaced with freezing, arctic-like air, sending each man into wracking shivers. Footsteps echoed through to the torture chamber from the room opposite it, and then the click of a latch, along with a door being slid aside. And then, a mirror disappeared from its place, only leaving a mere fog in its place, and there stood a dark, casual figure in the place of it.
"Good evening, gentlemen, or rather is it, Good morning?" a voice smooth as a violin's purr greeted them all too cheerily.
The chiming of the clock indicated that it was now a quarter after 12:00 in the morning. Then, the spectral figure entered. It was already obvious who it was. There was no one else it could have been.
"Monster!" bellowed Raoul, leaping from his place on the floor and lunging for him.
Erik merely grasped his wrist in a grip of iron and twisted it behind his back, leaving the Vicomte helpless under his strength, "Not a wise choice, monsieur. I'm here to temporarily free you. I would think you'd be a bit more appreciative. But of course, there is always the option of staying."
Nadir stood to his feet, desperation and exhaustion in his eyes, but he spoke boldly, "Erik! Enough! Who in their right mind would rather rot in this hell than taste the sweetness of a free air?"
Erik smirked, dropping the defeated and weary Vicomte to the floor, "But who's to say you are in your right minds? I daresay, a tropical forest such as this can do so much damage to one's wits."
Soon he was gone, and the two men stepped gratefully through the opening.
"It is morning, now. Christine should be ready to make her decision. I will summon her as soon as you two are ready."
Christine listened through her bedroom door to the men outside, wondering if the two were alright. They were so quiet. So submissive.
"Papa, it is nearly over."
She sighed and walked to the vanity table, sitting before the small mirror and glancing over her features. Carefully she dipped a cloth into a pot of hot water, which had originally been meant for the dry tea bag that sat beside it, and began to wipe the heavy stage makeup from her face. After thoroughly cleaning the soft surface of her skin, she winced at seeing the bags beneath her eyes and did her best to take the distraction away from them and toward her cheeks and lips with a bit of rouge.
After finding herself presentable enough, she stood and went to the door just as Erik had knocked upon it.
"I am ready, Erik..." she whispered, never once meeting his eyes.
"Good." he grimly remarked, stepping aside for her to walk through.
A light came to her eyes when she saw the Vicomte, despite the condition he seemed to be in. Flinging herself into his arms she pressed elated kissed all across his face, laughing happily. It was so good to see him out of that horrid torture chamber, and free for the moment's time. Soon, he would be free forever.
"Raoul! Are you well? You look ill..."
More than that, he looked deathly pale.
"I'm fine, darling. Oh, but you are so beautiful and radiant!" he took the opportunity to kiss her fervently, sneaking a glance at the brooding Erik who stood, watching the sickeningly beautiful scene.
Christine pulled away, gasping for breath as she did so, "Raoul... This really isn't the time to..."
He sighed, kissing the back of her hand, "I know. But I felt I had to..." his eyes again briefly returned to monsieur le Fantome's, "I could not help myself."
Erik saw it was time to interrupt their little charade and pulled Christine from him, "You know what I wish for you to do, now, Christine."
"Christine, let me die! It is better than to have me live without you!" Raoul cried out emphatically.
Just as she thought he would react. Erik and Raoul watched her for a few moments as she turned her head down, as if thinking, when truly she was gathering herself for the answer she would give. Finally, her eyes met with Raoul's, and he smiled when she wrapped her arms about his neck. No! This could not be! After all that they had been through together, she wished to live with the arrogant Vicomte!
"So be it, Christine..." he gripped Raoul's arm and began to drag him away, but a soft hand took his own instead and stopped him.
"Erik..." she only continued once she was certain he was looking at her and listening, "There is so much I have not discovered about you... So many mysteries, as you put it, that I have yet to unravel. This compels me to.... To search..."
Her eyes matched that of the fire in his own as she leant her mouth up to his, inviting him into a kiss full of feeling. Erik was apprehensive at first, unsure of the truth behind her decision, but the yearning inside of him overpowered his doubts, and he returned her display of affection, stirring the Vicomte's loathing. Raoul stepped backward into the Persian, both men horrified and awed at the same time. Neither had expected her to do something so unexpected as that. But unlike Raoul, Nadir accepted the reality of it.
"Christine, Christine, no! You can't possibly mean it... You're giving everything to him! Your life, your love, your virtue!" Raoul cried out in terror.
She pulled from Erik as he was about to speak, but pressed a finger to his lips, "Hush, now, my love. We have an eternity to speak to.."
A sound that matched that of lightning coursed through Erik's labyrinth, deafening the ears of those that remained in the small house by the lake. Raoul and the Persian each fled to the door, opening it to see where it was coming from.
"Gunshots..." Nadir breathed, a fear too great to comprehend filling him.
"Gunshots?" Christine repeated, leaving Erik for the moment to peer out across the lake.
"There! Look! The home of the Ghost! Leave nothing intact!"
The shout reached their ears just in time to recognize the mob traveling through the portcullis which they had manipulated into opening. It was the Opera staff, fully armed and seeming to be out of their minds.
"They're coming for you, Erik." Nadir whispered, turning a grim and solemn face toward Erik, "They've come to exorcize their Ghost."
For a moment, Christine turned to Erik, expecting a clever escape plan and thinking that he had already known they would be coming. But instead of the curiously all-knowing look on his face she often saw at times like these, she recognized a true look of fear. Erik had never been afraid of anything but losing her. He'd never been intimidated by common human beings. Now, it looked as if he were clueless as to how they would flee this nightmare.
"Erik?" she whimpered.
"Leave, Christine." he huskily whispered, walking forward and past her, their shoulders brushing momentarily.
One would almost think, on instinct entirely, that he was leaving them. But instead, he stopped in front of the Vicomte and hand him something small before whispering in his ear. It seemed something of importance. Afterward, he turned to see Christine, regretful eyes upon her.
"Take her and go, monsieur le Vicomte. Leave and never come back..."
Christine's hands flew to her mouth and heart, shaking her head slowly in utter disbelief, "Erik, don't talk this way..."
Raoul slowly approached her and took her hand in his, stroking her cheek, "We must go, now... It is the only way."
"No!"
Christine yanked herself from Raoul's grasp and berried herself in Erik's strong arms, "I won't let you leave me..."
Erik lifted his fingertips to lightly caress her cheek, and he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, "You never loved me... You never could, never will... You still know very little of me, and have yet to ever understand."
Erik gave Raoul a quick nod and he took her arms, forcing her out the door and toward the boat.
"Erik, please! I entreat you! Do not forsake me like this!"
It pained him to hear her speak so despairingly, but he knew that it was time she was let loose to experience life to the fullest. She could never thrive underground in a world comprised of only darkness and dreams.
"I love you, Christine..." he whispered, before he shouted for her to go, "Take her and go, before it's too late!! Go! Go NOW!"
Christine had stopped her struggling now, limp and lifeless and completely submissive to Raoul's touch. He pulled her into the boat, gesturing for Nadir to join them. But the Persian man shook his head.
"Erik is and always has been my only friend. I will not dessert him in his time of need." Nadir replied to the Vicomte's baffled expression.
Christine only saw darkness now, though it was very little difference compared to her surroundings. Everything inside of her hurt, but it was not a physical pain. Indeed, it was a very deep pain that spread from the core, her heart, to every part of her that could feel emotional torment. And with every breath, her mind slipped farther and farther from consciousness. The only evidence of reality she sensed were the ever present repetitions of the disparaging cries which belonged only to one tortured, battered soul...
((ahh, now doesn't that feel better? two whole chapters! *sighs with relief*))
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