Disclaimer: Ok, ok. We all know, I DON'T OWN PHANTOM! *pout*
My Notes: WOH! I'M GONNA START A THIRD CHAPTER! Amazing! I'm on a role!! This chap will have to do with a few other chars from the POTO play as well, so it won't simply be Christine/Raoul/Erik, though they too have a part. Unfortunately, this chap really has no plot to it either, so don't look for anything drastic to happen... yet... Muahahaha! A new musical introduction: Michelle Branch!! Alison Krauss!! And, unfortunately, this will be a very short chapter, as I am trying to focus on the next chapters.
Irene: Why thank ya's! I think it is a rather nice story. I only hope it comes out like I want it to. tehe
PhantomAngel22: Hi there, dear!! I will keep it going as far as my inspiration will take me!
Emily Knibbe: I cry too at the end! Of course I will continue. I try to keep the responses quick!
Phantomgurl33: Wow! Thank you so much. I am happy to have pleased so many people! It makes me feel very, very good. I wanted very much to have people feel with the characters. I hope I have done a good job so far. :)
"Something 'bout the way you looked at me
Made me think for a moment,
That maybe we were meant to be
Living out our lives separately
And it's strange that things change
but not me wanting you so desperately..."
~Michelle Branch 'Desperately'
"Spend my nights alone,
Catching fallen stars,
To give to you, love,
They're just for you,
Stars fall every time a lover has to face the truth,
And far too many stars have fell on me,
And as they trail the skies I
Burn there paths upon my eyes,
I cry,
And it's getting easier each day to weep about you....
Harder every night to sleep without you.
How many years must I be,
Driven by this dream of
Love with you."
~Alison Krauss 'Stars'
Chapter 3: Word of Mouth
Meg sat alone in Christine's old vanity chair which still resided, unused, in her vacant bedroom. No one had really occupied the room since the Phantom incident. Even Christine herself had rarely been to it more than three times a month since she'd been to le Fantome's lair the first time. It had been as if she was addicted to the darkness. Now, she succumbed to nothing but light. Darkness gave her nightmares. She slept with at least 10 candles lit in her room every night. At least, that was what the de Chagny had said. Meg wasn't entirely sure that it was wise of him to be giving so much information about Christine's condition to so many people, but the concern in his face every time he spoke of her seemed to give him a right to. He needed someone to talk to and express his feelings, and the only outlet was the public. He had no parents to speak to about the matter, his brother wanted nothing to do with the subject, and he had no dear friends that he could actually confide in. He was alone in his confusion and grief, and so was Christine, it seemed.
The little red headed ballerina sighed, leaning her cheek lazily onto her fist as she fingered a curl, twisting it and pulling it as she stared blankly into her own reflection. The only friend that had really meant anything to her was Chrissy, and already it was evident that she had lost her friend to an emotional chaos. Ever since Christine had arrived, they had been best friends, doing everything together as if they were long lost sisters. They had been so close that people began to gossip about whether their relationship was entirely pure or not. Disgusting enslaved beasts, servants to the arrogance of man..., she thought. But nothing had stopped her and Miss Daae from being just as close as sisters, because they were kindred spirits. Two versions of the same person in some ways, very different in others. But all together, they made one magnificent pair of best friends. That was, until... 'he' intervened.
A knock on the door pulled her back to reality and she looked up, half shocked but unable to show it through her boredom.
"Come in..." she hoarsely called, a smile lighting her eyes as she saw it was her mother.
Madame Giry, even in all of her strict expectations and short patience, was loved by the ballet girls. Yes, they despised her rules and regulations, her perfectionist ways and her bitter-sweet attitude, but all in all, she was the mother hen, and they were her chicks. Ever looking to their mother for guidance and correction. Even comfort. And being her daughter, Megan Giry knew the most about her mother's ability to comfort, even more than her mother knew herself. Meg stood, instantly falling into her mothers arms and sobbing into her breast.
"It is alright, my child. I know you miss her. She will be well as soon as her mind is cleared of the horrible past."
"I fear for her, mama." Meg whimpered, burying her face into her mother's bony shoulder, "She is so weak, from what the de Chagny says. I want to see her, but he forbids anyone to go near her."
Madame Giry sighed rather robotically, nodding in agreement, "He does not want anyone to remind her of the incidents in the Opera."
"Incidents? More like tragedies..."
Madame Giry nodded once more without another word. For now, Meg needed not to be assured that she could see Christine or anything of the like, but to learn to accept the situation as it was and wait for the opportune moment to see the Daae girl. If anything, though she would not admit it to her daughter, she hoped that Christine would not be disturbed for a good, long time. She knew herself what it was like to endure hardships as large as these, for she was old enough to have been through many trials and errors. In knowing so, she also understood the time it took to heal. She still had wounds and slowly fading scars from many tragedies in her lifetime.
"My darling daughter, let us return home and rest. It is late, tonight. Sleep would do your weary mind well."
Megan followed her mother out, clinging to her like the child she still was at heart, despite her sixteen year old exterior. Still, after so many years of trying, she thought her mother could do anything.
Raoul paced his room on a cold, winters night around 12 o'clock, midnight. Christine was not doing well. It was as if she were consumed with grief. Yet, she strived so hard to be happy. He never had to see her cry her tears of guilt, or comfort her, as she would not allow him, much as he wanted to. It was simply no use talking about it. Christine would go about her daily activities as if everything was perfect, and it was, except for the feelings that tormented her inside. This masquerade she put on, though irritating as it was, still was no surprise to the de Chagny boy. Christine had done this for months now, since ever meeting the Phantom. It was as if she lived as an actress on a day to day basis, expert at holding back tears and laughing when she really did not have the emotional strength to. But this was no way to live, the Vicomte had decided, and the worst thing about this situation was that he was helpless to do anything. No counselor could mentor her in dealing with the sorrow that lay deep inside her, she would never present her true feelings in any discussions, and the doctors saw it neither as a physical or mental illness. They had truly diagnosed it as a sickness of the heart, one that would take years to cure and would leave scars that never would disappear. Whatever she'd been through, they'd said, was obviously very traumatic, especially for a girl so sensitive by nature.
Now, it was hopeless. Everything was hopeless. And for once, though he would never admit it, Raoul wished le Fantome would suddenly appear. The reason? Simply because he of all people knew her deepest, darkest secrets, her hopes, her dreams, her hurts, her loves. In only a few months, Christine's soul had been bared to a treacherous beast and an ethereal friend. They had spent time together, become fascinated with each other. Even though the Vicomte cringed thinking about it, Erik had been her cause for joy, and then, her cause for immense heartache.
In the other room, Christine sat at her window, gazing outward to another world where rainbows and oceans existed and happiness never ended. She dreamed of a world that had no flaws, had no nightmares, no villains. Only ponds and pastel colors and beautiful flowers, boys and girls in love without the possibilities of ever being torn apart, and Angel's roamed as if that, too, were their home. Every time Christine was sad or alone, she escaped to this world so that she might further hide the torture which existed and grew inside of her. With each passing day it was becoming harder and harder to escape to this other realm of hers. Long since Erik had come into her life, her thoughts and dreams had been plagued with visions of him, fantasies about him, even after she'd brutally torn his mask away from his face and revealed the man behind the curtain.
Her despair was so great, now, that she hardly noticed when she began to cry. She had been too busy putting on a face for everyone of calm collectedness that any sign of feeling she was blind to. Yet, laying deeply inside her, she cried out for her Dark Angel. He would be able to comfort her. Yes he would not come only as the kind, loving Erik she knew but also the dangerous, badly tempered villain she knew as well. There were so many sides to him that she hardly minded. He was who she loved, in all truth , and who she wanted. But there was no escaping the reality of death....
A sob escaped her and her ears did not perceive. Christine knew what she had to do, in spite of her fears. It would be time to tell Raoul, if he hadn't already figure it out, that her heart belonged to another. This didn't mean that she'd never loved him. There was a time where she would have wanted nothing else but to be Raoul's wife, living in a house quite like the one they had taken up in. But those days were over. Darkness had stolen her interest. Passion had stirred in inferno throughout her soul. She was in love with another man, and it hurt her just as it would hurt the de Chagny.
A knock on the door was heard throughout the tiny room, and she took a little bit to wait before answering. Everything she did lately seemed to be in slow-motion. She was now too lazy even to eat. Her emotions were destroying her motivation to do anything anymore.
It felt like she was living in a dead body.
"Raoul?" she called.
It was no wonder it was he. The maids never bothered to come in any longer. Not after the strange happenings at the Opera. A rumor had passed among them that she was possessed, while other gossip was being told at the Opera. Her story was being mercilessly butchered into something everyone wanted to hear. It was as if the already devastating catastrophes that had occurred were not appalling enough.
The de Chagny walked through the slightly open door, peering in carefully to see that he was not disturbing anything.
"Christine?" he asked gently, then gaining a nod from her, approached the girl, a fist at his side, "I love you so much...."
She turned to him with puzzlement on her face.
"Why, I know that, Raoul. Why must I need to be reminded so often?" she inquired.
"This time there is a specific reason, my darling. And, it is about time you follow the directions I am to give you."
Christine was now listening more intently to him than she had in the last few weeks. She took her place, seated on her bed and watched his every move as he began to pace. This was going to be hard for him, whatever he was going to tell her, and she felt sorry that it was so.
"Please, speak Raoul. Your pacing makes me tense." she said sharply.
Her eyes scanned over his face which was wrought with concern. He finally released the breath he'd been holding the majority of the time and let his hands drop at his sides, still holding a fist at his left.
"Christine... When he... the Ghost..."
"Erik." she interrupted.
"Yes, Erik..." he sighed, closing his eyes for a moment, then reopening them as he focused on what he might say next, "He came to me, remember? Whispering something in my ear and handing me a small trinket of sorts."
Christine nodded solemnly, sad to have to recall such a night, "Yes, I recall."
"This, my dear, is what he gave me to give you." Raoul replied, opening his fist and holding it out in front of her so she could see it, "His ring."
Christine swallowed, closing her eyes against tears, "His ring..." she echoed, looking downward and fiddling with her fingers in her lap.
"Christine, he wanted you to keep this, as a promise to him."
Her eyes fled up to his own and he could see the eagerness to know what sort of promise this was.
"He wishes for you to come burry him with it, once he is dead." Raoul whispered, dropping the ring into her hand.
She gripped it tightly, a flood of memories coming to her all at once and all in a rush, "Oh... I see..."
Despite the efforts she put forth to hold back her tears, she managed only to do so for a small time until the thought that her Angel was now dead, almost indefinitely, filled her with a great nausea. She doubled over, her face in her hands as her shoulders heaved repeatedly with her wracking sobs. These past few weeks had been lacking the normally expected crying fits, only because she was afraid to give in to them. Afraid to sink into a depression so great that she would never return to her normal self, and might take her own life. Too many times she'd heard of people who'd lost loved ones who were in pain that was unimaginably vast, and had brought them to the conclusion of simply giving up and committing suicide. Some suicides were so grisly that when Christine had heard the stories, she'd been quietly sick for quite a while. It wasn't her choice of endings. It wasn't what Erik would have wanted.
"Oh, Raoul." soon she sought comfort in his arms, but he knew that this time he was comforting her as a friend, and nothing more.
Raoul had known long before Erik's demise that Christine's heart was truly meant for the Ghost, but he'd never wanted to admit it. The one thing he was grateful for was that he would know ahead of time before she explained the whole thing and tried to let him down easily, and he would not be too surprised. Men had a great tolerance for emotions, a way of hiding them and not letting others see their struggles deep inside. He'd simply burry his love for her six feet under, just as she would burry her beloved. Beloved... Such an unfitting name for an Angel turned demon. All of the compassion in the world would not make Raoul stop loathing the Phantom. He would sympathize for him and even envy him, but never would he cease his hatred. Never could he forgive him for taking what was most precious to him.
"Christine, you should ready yourself today. Tomorrow I will take you back to the Opera so you may do as was expected of you." Raoul whispered calmly into her ear.
It was all over now. Tomorrow would be the last of seeing her, he was almost certain. What her fate would be he didn't want to know. Didn't want to guess. He knew the intensity of her love for Erik was high, and he knew the many consequences that could befall her as a result of this affection.
"Yes, Raoul. Yes..." she whispered, wiping away her tears, "I will go tomorrow."
He placed his cup down onto the now scorched side table beside the divan, where he took his seat in front of the empty fireplace. Everything smelt of fire and smoke, the burnt smell that made him grimace.
"Erik... Are you feeling better?" Nadir questioned quietly, watching his friend walk into the room with a solemn expression.
"Nothing in this wretched world, nor heaven or hell could make me feel better. There is no power in this galaxy that is greater than the feeling of agony. At least, my agony." he, too, collapsed onto the couch and placed a hand over his forehead, closing his eyes wearily.
"You have not slept in 4 weeks, Erik. You are running on energy that is not there. Could I possibly make you anything that might restore..."
"Hush, Nadir. Your remedies are worthless now. The point was to die. If Christine comes back to find me still breathing as I am, she'll be sorely disappointed." Erik countered, sinking further into the settee.
Nadir wished he could speak of how meaningful the kiss had been to Christine. In her blue eyes he could see a change that had blossomed her from child to woman. Her heart, too, had blossomed. Her feelings had grown from confusion and fear to an undying devotion to the one man she looked up to so much. Yet, no words could console Erik, or change his mind about her feelings for him. He was convinced that Christine could feel nothing more and that he loyalty to the de Chagny boy was too great for her to ever love him. So, the Persian man said nothing and instead stood, ready to nurse his own wounds. It had been an interesting and risky night when the mob had invaded Erik's private territory. Erik had wanted to die more than ever that night, to end his pain, but he refused to fall into that deep, endless sleep at the hands of a haughty and despising mob. The Opera staff and their firemen were not going to be the cause of his death. So, he had kept his dignity that night and somehow escaped within an inch of his life from eternal damnation.
Unfortunately, their plan of escape saved them, but not the cellars. Everything was ruined. The members of the mob, a vast number as they were, didn't seem to be enough to damage every area of his lair. They had taken their anger out on his every possession. So, first losing his point to live and then losing his living quarters, Erik lost everything. And Nadir was losing hope.
The gossip about Christine Daae was certainly appalling. Going as far as to changing the story completely! Mostly thanks to the former Opera Diva herself. The story was now about a rapist and a harlot, rather than an Opera Ghost and a girl from Sweden. It made most every ally of Christine's sick to the stomach, and turned every snotty patron of the Opera's snout up in the air. Meg Giry was quick to rescue Christine's reputation, helping the talk to die down. But what the Opera needed was a visit from Christine so that truth could take the place of lies. And so that a fresh face could replace Carlotta's grimace.
(Yay! Done! Read and Review)
My Notes: WOH! I'M GONNA START A THIRD CHAPTER! Amazing! I'm on a role!! This chap will have to do with a few other chars from the POTO play as well, so it won't simply be Christine/Raoul/Erik, though they too have a part. Unfortunately, this chap really has no plot to it either, so don't look for anything drastic to happen... yet... Muahahaha! A new musical introduction: Michelle Branch!! Alison Krauss!! And, unfortunately, this will be a very short chapter, as I am trying to focus on the next chapters.
Irene: Why thank ya's! I think it is a rather nice story. I only hope it comes out like I want it to. tehe
PhantomAngel22: Hi there, dear!! I will keep it going as far as my inspiration will take me!
Emily Knibbe: I cry too at the end! Of course I will continue. I try to keep the responses quick!
Phantomgurl33: Wow! Thank you so much. I am happy to have pleased so many people! It makes me feel very, very good. I wanted very much to have people feel with the characters. I hope I have done a good job so far. :)
"Something 'bout the way you looked at me
Made me think for a moment,
That maybe we were meant to be
Living out our lives separately
And it's strange that things change
but not me wanting you so desperately..."
~Michelle Branch 'Desperately'
"Spend my nights alone,
Catching fallen stars,
To give to you, love,
They're just for you,
Stars fall every time a lover has to face the truth,
And far too many stars have fell on me,
And as they trail the skies I
Burn there paths upon my eyes,
I cry,
And it's getting easier each day to weep about you....
Harder every night to sleep without you.
How many years must I be,
Driven by this dream of
Love with you."
~Alison Krauss 'Stars'
Chapter 3: Word of Mouth
Meg sat alone in Christine's old vanity chair which still resided, unused, in her vacant bedroom. No one had really occupied the room since the Phantom incident. Even Christine herself had rarely been to it more than three times a month since she'd been to le Fantome's lair the first time. It had been as if she was addicted to the darkness. Now, she succumbed to nothing but light. Darkness gave her nightmares. She slept with at least 10 candles lit in her room every night. At least, that was what the de Chagny had said. Meg wasn't entirely sure that it was wise of him to be giving so much information about Christine's condition to so many people, but the concern in his face every time he spoke of her seemed to give him a right to. He needed someone to talk to and express his feelings, and the only outlet was the public. He had no parents to speak to about the matter, his brother wanted nothing to do with the subject, and he had no dear friends that he could actually confide in. He was alone in his confusion and grief, and so was Christine, it seemed.
The little red headed ballerina sighed, leaning her cheek lazily onto her fist as she fingered a curl, twisting it and pulling it as she stared blankly into her own reflection. The only friend that had really meant anything to her was Chrissy, and already it was evident that she had lost her friend to an emotional chaos. Ever since Christine had arrived, they had been best friends, doing everything together as if they were long lost sisters. They had been so close that people began to gossip about whether their relationship was entirely pure or not. Disgusting enslaved beasts, servants to the arrogance of man..., she thought. But nothing had stopped her and Miss Daae from being just as close as sisters, because they were kindred spirits. Two versions of the same person in some ways, very different in others. But all together, they made one magnificent pair of best friends. That was, until... 'he' intervened.
A knock on the door pulled her back to reality and she looked up, half shocked but unable to show it through her boredom.
"Come in..." she hoarsely called, a smile lighting her eyes as she saw it was her mother.
Madame Giry, even in all of her strict expectations and short patience, was loved by the ballet girls. Yes, they despised her rules and regulations, her perfectionist ways and her bitter-sweet attitude, but all in all, she was the mother hen, and they were her chicks. Ever looking to their mother for guidance and correction. Even comfort. And being her daughter, Megan Giry knew the most about her mother's ability to comfort, even more than her mother knew herself. Meg stood, instantly falling into her mothers arms and sobbing into her breast.
"It is alright, my child. I know you miss her. She will be well as soon as her mind is cleared of the horrible past."
"I fear for her, mama." Meg whimpered, burying her face into her mother's bony shoulder, "She is so weak, from what the de Chagny says. I want to see her, but he forbids anyone to go near her."
Madame Giry sighed rather robotically, nodding in agreement, "He does not want anyone to remind her of the incidents in the Opera."
"Incidents? More like tragedies..."
Madame Giry nodded once more without another word. For now, Meg needed not to be assured that she could see Christine or anything of the like, but to learn to accept the situation as it was and wait for the opportune moment to see the Daae girl. If anything, though she would not admit it to her daughter, she hoped that Christine would not be disturbed for a good, long time. She knew herself what it was like to endure hardships as large as these, for she was old enough to have been through many trials and errors. In knowing so, she also understood the time it took to heal. She still had wounds and slowly fading scars from many tragedies in her lifetime.
"My darling daughter, let us return home and rest. It is late, tonight. Sleep would do your weary mind well."
Megan followed her mother out, clinging to her like the child she still was at heart, despite her sixteen year old exterior. Still, after so many years of trying, she thought her mother could do anything.
Raoul paced his room on a cold, winters night around 12 o'clock, midnight. Christine was not doing well. It was as if she were consumed with grief. Yet, she strived so hard to be happy. He never had to see her cry her tears of guilt, or comfort her, as she would not allow him, much as he wanted to. It was simply no use talking about it. Christine would go about her daily activities as if everything was perfect, and it was, except for the feelings that tormented her inside. This masquerade she put on, though irritating as it was, still was no surprise to the de Chagny boy. Christine had done this for months now, since ever meeting the Phantom. It was as if she lived as an actress on a day to day basis, expert at holding back tears and laughing when she really did not have the emotional strength to. But this was no way to live, the Vicomte had decided, and the worst thing about this situation was that he was helpless to do anything. No counselor could mentor her in dealing with the sorrow that lay deep inside her, she would never present her true feelings in any discussions, and the doctors saw it neither as a physical or mental illness. They had truly diagnosed it as a sickness of the heart, one that would take years to cure and would leave scars that never would disappear. Whatever she'd been through, they'd said, was obviously very traumatic, especially for a girl so sensitive by nature.
Now, it was hopeless. Everything was hopeless. And for once, though he would never admit it, Raoul wished le Fantome would suddenly appear. The reason? Simply because he of all people knew her deepest, darkest secrets, her hopes, her dreams, her hurts, her loves. In only a few months, Christine's soul had been bared to a treacherous beast and an ethereal friend. They had spent time together, become fascinated with each other. Even though the Vicomte cringed thinking about it, Erik had been her cause for joy, and then, her cause for immense heartache.
In the other room, Christine sat at her window, gazing outward to another world where rainbows and oceans existed and happiness never ended. She dreamed of a world that had no flaws, had no nightmares, no villains. Only ponds and pastel colors and beautiful flowers, boys and girls in love without the possibilities of ever being torn apart, and Angel's roamed as if that, too, were their home. Every time Christine was sad or alone, she escaped to this world so that she might further hide the torture which existed and grew inside of her. With each passing day it was becoming harder and harder to escape to this other realm of hers. Long since Erik had come into her life, her thoughts and dreams had been plagued with visions of him, fantasies about him, even after she'd brutally torn his mask away from his face and revealed the man behind the curtain.
Her despair was so great, now, that she hardly noticed when she began to cry. She had been too busy putting on a face for everyone of calm collectedness that any sign of feeling she was blind to. Yet, laying deeply inside her, she cried out for her Dark Angel. He would be able to comfort her. Yes he would not come only as the kind, loving Erik she knew but also the dangerous, badly tempered villain she knew as well. There were so many sides to him that she hardly minded. He was who she loved, in all truth , and who she wanted. But there was no escaping the reality of death....
A sob escaped her and her ears did not perceive. Christine knew what she had to do, in spite of her fears. It would be time to tell Raoul, if he hadn't already figure it out, that her heart belonged to another. This didn't mean that she'd never loved him. There was a time where she would have wanted nothing else but to be Raoul's wife, living in a house quite like the one they had taken up in. But those days were over. Darkness had stolen her interest. Passion had stirred in inferno throughout her soul. She was in love with another man, and it hurt her just as it would hurt the de Chagny.
A knock on the door was heard throughout the tiny room, and she took a little bit to wait before answering. Everything she did lately seemed to be in slow-motion. She was now too lazy even to eat. Her emotions were destroying her motivation to do anything anymore.
It felt like she was living in a dead body.
"Raoul?" she called.
It was no wonder it was he. The maids never bothered to come in any longer. Not after the strange happenings at the Opera. A rumor had passed among them that she was possessed, while other gossip was being told at the Opera. Her story was being mercilessly butchered into something everyone wanted to hear. It was as if the already devastating catastrophes that had occurred were not appalling enough.
The de Chagny walked through the slightly open door, peering in carefully to see that he was not disturbing anything.
"Christine?" he asked gently, then gaining a nod from her, approached the girl, a fist at his side, "I love you so much...."
She turned to him with puzzlement on her face.
"Why, I know that, Raoul. Why must I need to be reminded so often?" she inquired.
"This time there is a specific reason, my darling. And, it is about time you follow the directions I am to give you."
Christine was now listening more intently to him than she had in the last few weeks. She took her place, seated on her bed and watched his every move as he began to pace. This was going to be hard for him, whatever he was going to tell her, and she felt sorry that it was so.
"Please, speak Raoul. Your pacing makes me tense." she said sharply.
Her eyes scanned over his face which was wrought with concern. He finally released the breath he'd been holding the majority of the time and let his hands drop at his sides, still holding a fist at his left.
"Christine... When he... the Ghost..."
"Erik." she interrupted.
"Yes, Erik..." he sighed, closing his eyes for a moment, then reopening them as he focused on what he might say next, "He came to me, remember? Whispering something in my ear and handing me a small trinket of sorts."
Christine nodded solemnly, sad to have to recall such a night, "Yes, I recall."
"This, my dear, is what he gave me to give you." Raoul replied, opening his fist and holding it out in front of her so she could see it, "His ring."
Christine swallowed, closing her eyes against tears, "His ring..." she echoed, looking downward and fiddling with her fingers in her lap.
"Christine, he wanted you to keep this, as a promise to him."
Her eyes fled up to his own and he could see the eagerness to know what sort of promise this was.
"He wishes for you to come burry him with it, once he is dead." Raoul whispered, dropping the ring into her hand.
She gripped it tightly, a flood of memories coming to her all at once and all in a rush, "Oh... I see..."
Despite the efforts she put forth to hold back her tears, she managed only to do so for a small time until the thought that her Angel was now dead, almost indefinitely, filled her with a great nausea. She doubled over, her face in her hands as her shoulders heaved repeatedly with her wracking sobs. These past few weeks had been lacking the normally expected crying fits, only because she was afraid to give in to them. Afraid to sink into a depression so great that she would never return to her normal self, and might take her own life. Too many times she'd heard of people who'd lost loved ones who were in pain that was unimaginably vast, and had brought them to the conclusion of simply giving up and committing suicide. Some suicides were so grisly that when Christine had heard the stories, she'd been quietly sick for quite a while. It wasn't her choice of endings. It wasn't what Erik would have wanted.
"Oh, Raoul." soon she sought comfort in his arms, but he knew that this time he was comforting her as a friend, and nothing more.
Raoul had known long before Erik's demise that Christine's heart was truly meant for the Ghost, but he'd never wanted to admit it. The one thing he was grateful for was that he would know ahead of time before she explained the whole thing and tried to let him down easily, and he would not be too surprised. Men had a great tolerance for emotions, a way of hiding them and not letting others see their struggles deep inside. He'd simply burry his love for her six feet under, just as she would burry her beloved. Beloved... Such an unfitting name for an Angel turned demon. All of the compassion in the world would not make Raoul stop loathing the Phantom. He would sympathize for him and even envy him, but never would he cease his hatred. Never could he forgive him for taking what was most precious to him.
"Christine, you should ready yourself today. Tomorrow I will take you back to the Opera so you may do as was expected of you." Raoul whispered calmly into her ear.
It was all over now. Tomorrow would be the last of seeing her, he was almost certain. What her fate would be he didn't want to know. Didn't want to guess. He knew the intensity of her love for Erik was high, and he knew the many consequences that could befall her as a result of this affection.
"Yes, Raoul. Yes..." she whispered, wiping away her tears, "I will go tomorrow."
He placed his cup down onto the now scorched side table beside the divan, where he took his seat in front of the empty fireplace. Everything smelt of fire and smoke, the burnt smell that made him grimace.
"Erik... Are you feeling better?" Nadir questioned quietly, watching his friend walk into the room with a solemn expression.
"Nothing in this wretched world, nor heaven or hell could make me feel better. There is no power in this galaxy that is greater than the feeling of agony. At least, my agony." he, too, collapsed onto the couch and placed a hand over his forehead, closing his eyes wearily.
"You have not slept in 4 weeks, Erik. You are running on energy that is not there. Could I possibly make you anything that might restore..."
"Hush, Nadir. Your remedies are worthless now. The point was to die. If Christine comes back to find me still breathing as I am, she'll be sorely disappointed." Erik countered, sinking further into the settee.
Nadir wished he could speak of how meaningful the kiss had been to Christine. In her blue eyes he could see a change that had blossomed her from child to woman. Her heart, too, had blossomed. Her feelings had grown from confusion and fear to an undying devotion to the one man she looked up to so much. Yet, no words could console Erik, or change his mind about her feelings for him. He was convinced that Christine could feel nothing more and that he loyalty to the de Chagny boy was too great for her to ever love him. So, the Persian man said nothing and instead stood, ready to nurse his own wounds. It had been an interesting and risky night when the mob had invaded Erik's private territory. Erik had wanted to die more than ever that night, to end his pain, but he refused to fall into that deep, endless sleep at the hands of a haughty and despising mob. The Opera staff and their firemen were not going to be the cause of his death. So, he had kept his dignity that night and somehow escaped within an inch of his life from eternal damnation.
Unfortunately, their plan of escape saved them, but not the cellars. Everything was ruined. The members of the mob, a vast number as they were, didn't seem to be enough to damage every area of his lair. They had taken their anger out on his every possession. So, first losing his point to live and then losing his living quarters, Erik lost everything. And Nadir was losing hope.
The gossip about Christine Daae was certainly appalling. Going as far as to changing the story completely! Mostly thanks to the former Opera Diva herself. The story was now about a rapist and a harlot, rather than an Opera Ghost and a girl from Sweden. It made most every ally of Christine's sick to the stomach, and turned every snotty patron of the Opera's snout up in the air. Meg Giry was quick to rescue Christine's reputation, helping the talk to die down. But what the Opera needed was a visit from Christine so that truth could take the place of lies. And so that a fresh face could replace Carlotta's grimace.
(Yay! Done! Read and Review)