Il Commiato, la Mia Principessa
Chapt. 8
Stumbling blindly along the darkened streets, Bianca forced her brain to concentrate. The bitter night air scraped at her pale face as her feet awkwardly struggled to find their way through the ominous alleyway. Her head spun violently as she thrust a trembling hand out to feel the stone wall in front of her; searching for the mysterious door she knew was there. Clutching the ring to her side, she paused briefly in the eerie stillness and attempted to regain control of her thoughts. Her vision blurred and projected double images, rendering her almost blind to whatever danger lay before her. I have to get down there, she thought, frantically, as she struggled with the reluctant handle. I was stupid to keep the ring. I should have known it wouldn't be safe in my hands. I have to return it to Erik before it's too late. Before they find me again ...
The door gave a soft groan in the deathly silence, as Bianca used the last of her strength to force it open. Slipping into the dank passageway, she quickly pulled it shut behind her and fell to the floor; her hollow breathing echoing off the walls and ceiling. She grasped either side of the corridor for support and staggered to her feet; smoothing the ring with her thumb and forefinger for reassurance. Leaning against the cold, musty walls, Bianca slowly began to slide noiselessly down the passage, which seemed to grow longer and more foreboding with each step.
"Erik ..." she whispered into the darkness. "Erik ..." Inside her head, her mind formed the words her mouth could not. Erik, I'm coming! I have your ring. Please, Erik ... Desparately clawing at her throat, her fingers at last found what they were looking for. Clinging to both the ruby and the ring, Bianca approached the strange, subterranean house, silently praying to whoever would listen to the pitiful pleas of a streetmouse. Oh, Erik! God, wherever You are, give me the strength to find him. Tell me I'm not too late ... Mama ...
The familiar rhythmic tapping and hushed whispers floated through the house and met his startled ears. Glancing up from the floor, Erik was again awakened from his complex thoughts by the sounds of a possible intruder. Upon hearing the gentle, feminine footsteps and soft whimpering, cursed hope flooded his heart once again , daring his lips to form the unthinkable.
"Christine ..." His small question was answered almost immediately by the appearance of a small, thin form staggering through the passageway which led to the street. Her breathing was labored, and the strange green eyes which had haunted his thoughts flashed dangerously in the darkness. He exhaled slightly, and took a step closer; annoyed with his foolish thoughts, and curious as to why she had returned to his nightmare.
"Bianca ? Why have you come back ? I thought ..." His voice trailed off into nothingness, unsure of how to finish. There was a brief moment of silence between them as the girl paused to catch her breath. Though he could not see her clearly in the darkened room, he could sense that something was not right . She suddenly shuddered violently in the chill and gave a soft moan, as Erik thought he heard her fall to her knees. Alarmed, he hastily grabbed a small candle from a nearby table and brought it closer to his wayward guest. The warm light cast its halo upon the floor, to reveal the trembling form of the dirty street mouse he had sheltered only a week ago.
"You shouldn't be here," He held out his thin hand. "You were wise to leave before , this is not the place for you." He paused, and then added, bitterly, "This is not the place for anyone but me ." She lifted her head at last, revealing to him the damp, hollow face of a child who is deathly ill. He drew back at the sight of her ghostly pallor; the shock obviously showing in his glowing eyes.
"D-don't worry about me," she murmered, swallowing a grimace. "I'll be fine. I'm leaving, if that's what you want. I h-have to give you th-this, though. It's n-not safe with me . I l-learned that the hard way." She gingerly lifted the small ring up towards him; its bright, golden finish dancing in the candlelight. Erik inhaled sharply at the sight that met with his eyes. The trembling hand that held his precious treasure in its grasp was painted with fresh blood. His eyes drifted down to the front of her coat, which beared a deep scarlet stain that seemed to be increasing in size. Emitting a strangled gasp, Bianca dropped the ring to the floor and placed her arm at her side once again , in an attempt to quell the pain. Quickly pocketing the gem, Erik grabbed her firmly by the shoulder and tilted her body backwards in the direction of the candlelight.
"How did this happen?" He demanded as he gingerly opened her discolored coat. The torn ends of her shirt hung limply over the deep wound which cut through her flesh. "A knife." He said, simply, after a brief examination. "A knife made this." He paused, and gently held his hand out to her. "You must get to a doctor. A surgeon would be best, but a doctor at the very least. You cannot stay here." She nodded faintly, misunderstanding him, and struggled to sit up.
"I - I know. I'm sorry, I meant no - no ... I'm leaving ... I only wanted to give ... the ring ... Erik ... Where is it?" Her face crumpled into a painful grimace as she sat up and began frantically searching the cold ground, her breathing coming in deep gasps, until she finally collapsed to the floor in agony. Erik removed the ring from his pocket and knelt down beside her.
"Here, I have it. Be still. You're exhausting yourself." His voice had suddenly become soft and gentle, as though it might sooth the hurt from her damaged body. She turned over onto her back and smiled up at the ring in his hand.
"I saved it, Erik. They wanted to take it, but I wouldn't let them ... I fought them for it. All six of them, against me! And I w-won , too." She paused, and studied his expression. "H-have I told you how g-good I am at fighting, Erik? I've been doing it m-most of my life. They call me 'The Cat,' you know, because I'm a fighter ... a good ... fighter ..." Her eyes closed briefly, as she struggled to gain control of her rapid breathing.
"Why?" Erik whispered. "Why did you put yourself at risk? Does this ring really mean something to you? Is it worth death?" The thought of a stranger jeopardizing herself so gravely for him was so foreign an idea that he refused to even undertake it. There must have been some other explanation, some reason as to why she cherished that ring enough to risk her life for it.
"I do not fear death, Erik. N-not anymore." She tried to laugh softly, but emitted a raspy coughing noise instead. He stared quizzically at her pale face, not fully understanding her meaning. "I have known it, I have seen it ... It used to frighten me . I even h-had nightmares about it ... But now I can taste it. I c-can feel it very near." She opened her now-tranquil green eyes and reached out for the ring; taking it between her trembling fingers and gently stroking its smooth surface. "Erik, tell me about Christine." His back stiffened as he inhaled sharply, caught off guard by the unexpected request. A tense silence hung in the air between them, broken only by the short gasps of Bianca's labored breathing.
"That is a subject I prefer not to dwell on anymore," he replied, icily. The words sliced through him like a cold wind. He felt no desire to unearth the unpleasant feelings he had resolved to put to rest only an hour ago. He could endure such torture again!
"You loved her, didn't you?" Bianca asked. The simplicity of her question burned his heart, and something inside him softened. He slowly reached out and took the ring from her grasp, closing his thin fingers around it and feeling its warmth.
"Yes," he murmured weakly. He could feel himself falling under Christine's spell once again. "More than life itself." His grip tightened as he thought bitterly of how strong his devotion had been, and the eventual gratitude she had shown. "Wretched little demon that she was ... I loved her ... I loved her ... Oh, why did I love her so much ...?" A lone tear ran down his face beneath the mask, as his heart wrenched itself open once more. He did not try to supress the memories this time, nor did he supress the tears. No longer could he continue to fight such a battle. He realized once again that Christine could never be erased from his mind; she had unknowingly impressed herself so deeply upon his life that even in her eternal absence she continued to exist. A new ghost haunted the Opera now.
"We d-do not choose who or where or even when w-we will love, Erik," Bianca whispered softly into the darkness. "Only ou-our hearts know, and th-those are secrets that are forever kept." The words hammered through his brain, echoing over and over again until he thought he might scream.
After a long pause, Erik tore himself away from his dismal thoughts, a wave of fatigue and unusual peace washing through him. The past, he had realized, was grim and unchangeable, and the future was nonexistent; his only thoughts now were concerned with the present. It was all he had left. He was tired, more tired than he had ever felt before as though something had drained both his body and soul of all its combined strength. The sudden silence undisturbed by the periodic strains of Bianca's raspy breathing alarmed him, and he lifted his eyes towards the fading child who lay by his feet, at last remembering why she had returned.
"Bianca ..." His soft whisper echoed throughout the labyrinth; heard by all except her. Extending a trembling finger, Erik gently reached out to feel her hand. The familiar chill of death met with his touch. Her breathing had subsided to short, hurried gasps of air, and the strange cat eyes which had haunted his dreams were now glazed over and distant. Acknowledging his thin fingers on her skin, she weakly attempted to grip them with the remainder of her strength.
"Sing to me, Erik ... so I won't be afraid ..." Her words were so soft and feeble, he was at first unsure if she had even uttered them at all, but the slight tightening of her grasp around his trembling hand confirmed his assumptions of her last request. With only a moment's hesitation, Erik opened his mouth and gently began to soothe her with his heavenly voice.
"'Kyrie, kyrie, kyrie eleison ...'" His wedding mass for Christine had now become the requiem for a street urchin. The cruel irony leered out from the shadows and laughed noiselessly in his face, yet he unconciously continued, as if pulled along by some invisable string. Time seemed to crawl by as Erik repeated the sacred words over and over again, while keeping a close watch on the irregular rise and fall of her chest. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she exhaled a small, almost inaudible sigh, and opened her glassy eyes, which had closed when he had first begun to sing. A look of wonder and blissful serenity passed over her face as she looked to the ceiling and uttered one word ...
"Angel ..."
And then there was nothing but silence. The darkness suddenly seemed thick and intense; an incredible black hole of death that lay waiting to swallow him up, as it had done to Bianca. Another tear ran down his face. This time, he carefully removed the mask and set it on the floor by her hand, which sat lifelessly upon his. Taking her head in his tender grasp, he turned it towards his own and silently studied her empty eyes; eyes that had once held such spirit and endurance. Now they held nothing except the faint glimmer of a life that could have been so much more. Erik softly reached out with his thin fingers and closed them, one after the other, so she would be spared the sight of his face, even though he knew she was dead and could no longer see. Laying her carefully back down upon the cold ground, he gently lifted her pale fingers to his lips and kissed them. As the last candle slowly burned itself out, Erik heard himself whisper his final goodbye to the child who had made him see.
"Il commiato, la mia Principessa ..." Farewell, my Princess ...
~Finis~
Chapt. 8
Stumbling blindly along the darkened streets, Bianca forced her brain to concentrate. The bitter night air scraped at her pale face as her feet awkwardly struggled to find their way through the ominous alleyway. Her head spun violently as she thrust a trembling hand out to feel the stone wall in front of her; searching for the mysterious door she knew was there. Clutching the ring to her side, she paused briefly in the eerie stillness and attempted to regain control of her thoughts. Her vision blurred and projected double images, rendering her almost blind to whatever danger lay before her. I have to get down there, she thought, frantically, as she struggled with the reluctant handle. I was stupid to keep the ring. I should have known it wouldn't be safe in my hands. I have to return it to Erik before it's too late. Before they find me again ...
The door gave a soft groan in the deathly silence, as Bianca used the last of her strength to force it open. Slipping into the dank passageway, she quickly pulled it shut behind her and fell to the floor; her hollow breathing echoing off the walls and ceiling. She grasped either side of the corridor for support and staggered to her feet; smoothing the ring with her thumb and forefinger for reassurance. Leaning against the cold, musty walls, Bianca slowly began to slide noiselessly down the passage, which seemed to grow longer and more foreboding with each step.
"Erik ..." she whispered into the darkness. "Erik ..." Inside her head, her mind formed the words her mouth could not. Erik, I'm coming! I have your ring. Please, Erik ... Desparately clawing at her throat, her fingers at last found what they were looking for. Clinging to both the ruby and the ring, Bianca approached the strange, subterranean house, silently praying to whoever would listen to the pitiful pleas of a streetmouse. Oh, Erik! God, wherever You are, give me the strength to find him. Tell me I'm not too late ... Mama ...
The familiar rhythmic tapping and hushed whispers floated through the house and met his startled ears. Glancing up from the floor, Erik was again awakened from his complex thoughts by the sounds of a possible intruder. Upon hearing the gentle, feminine footsteps and soft whimpering, cursed hope flooded his heart once again , daring his lips to form the unthinkable.
"Christine ..." His small question was answered almost immediately by the appearance of a small, thin form staggering through the passageway which led to the street. Her breathing was labored, and the strange green eyes which had haunted his thoughts flashed dangerously in the darkness. He exhaled slightly, and took a step closer; annoyed with his foolish thoughts, and curious as to why she had returned to his nightmare.
"Bianca ? Why have you come back ? I thought ..." His voice trailed off into nothingness, unsure of how to finish. There was a brief moment of silence between them as the girl paused to catch her breath. Though he could not see her clearly in the darkened room, he could sense that something was not right . She suddenly shuddered violently in the chill and gave a soft moan, as Erik thought he heard her fall to her knees. Alarmed, he hastily grabbed a small candle from a nearby table and brought it closer to his wayward guest. The warm light cast its halo upon the floor, to reveal the trembling form of the dirty street mouse he had sheltered only a week ago.
"You shouldn't be here," He held out his thin hand. "You were wise to leave before , this is not the place for you." He paused, and then added, bitterly, "This is not the place for anyone but me ." She lifted her head at last, revealing to him the damp, hollow face of a child who is deathly ill. He drew back at the sight of her ghostly pallor; the shock obviously showing in his glowing eyes.
"D-don't worry about me," she murmered, swallowing a grimace. "I'll be fine. I'm leaving, if that's what you want. I h-have to give you th-this, though. It's n-not safe with me . I l-learned that the hard way." She gingerly lifted the small ring up towards him; its bright, golden finish dancing in the candlelight. Erik inhaled sharply at the sight that met with his eyes. The trembling hand that held his precious treasure in its grasp was painted with fresh blood. His eyes drifted down to the front of her coat, which beared a deep scarlet stain that seemed to be increasing in size. Emitting a strangled gasp, Bianca dropped the ring to the floor and placed her arm at her side once again , in an attempt to quell the pain. Quickly pocketing the gem, Erik grabbed her firmly by the shoulder and tilted her body backwards in the direction of the candlelight.
"How did this happen?" He demanded as he gingerly opened her discolored coat. The torn ends of her shirt hung limply over the deep wound which cut through her flesh. "A knife." He said, simply, after a brief examination. "A knife made this." He paused, and gently held his hand out to her. "You must get to a doctor. A surgeon would be best, but a doctor at the very least. You cannot stay here." She nodded faintly, misunderstanding him, and struggled to sit up.
"I - I know. I'm sorry, I meant no - no ... I'm leaving ... I only wanted to give ... the ring ... Erik ... Where is it?" Her face crumpled into a painful grimace as she sat up and began frantically searching the cold ground, her breathing coming in deep gasps, until she finally collapsed to the floor in agony. Erik removed the ring from his pocket and knelt down beside her.
"Here, I have it. Be still. You're exhausting yourself." His voice had suddenly become soft and gentle, as though it might sooth the hurt from her damaged body. She turned over onto her back and smiled up at the ring in his hand.
"I saved it, Erik. They wanted to take it, but I wouldn't let them ... I fought them for it. All six of them, against me! And I w-won , too." She paused, and studied his expression. "H-have I told you how g-good I am at fighting, Erik? I've been doing it m-most of my life. They call me 'The Cat,' you know, because I'm a fighter ... a good ... fighter ..." Her eyes closed briefly, as she struggled to gain control of her rapid breathing.
"Why?" Erik whispered. "Why did you put yourself at risk? Does this ring really mean something to you? Is it worth death?" The thought of a stranger jeopardizing herself so gravely for him was so foreign an idea that he refused to even undertake it. There must have been some other explanation, some reason as to why she cherished that ring enough to risk her life for it.
"I do not fear death, Erik. N-not anymore." She tried to laugh softly, but emitted a raspy coughing noise instead. He stared quizzically at her pale face, not fully understanding her meaning. "I have known it, I have seen it ... It used to frighten me . I even h-had nightmares about it ... But now I can taste it. I c-can feel it very near." She opened her now-tranquil green eyes and reached out for the ring; taking it between her trembling fingers and gently stroking its smooth surface. "Erik, tell me about Christine." His back stiffened as he inhaled sharply, caught off guard by the unexpected request. A tense silence hung in the air between them, broken only by the short gasps of Bianca's labored breathing.
"That is a subject I prefer not to dwell on anymore," he replied, icily. The words sliced through him like a cold wind. He felt no desire to unearth the unpleasant feelings he had resolved to put to rest only an hour ago. He could endure such torture again!
"You loved her, didn't you?" Bianca asked. The simplicity of her question burned his heart, and something inside him softened. He slowly reached out and took the ring from her grasp, closing his thin fingers around it and feeling its warmth.
"Yes," he murmured weakly. He could feel himself falling under Christine's spell once again. "More than life itself." His grip tightened as he thought bitterly of how strong his devotion had been, and the eventual gratitude she had shown. "Wretched little demon that she was ... I loved her ... I loved her ... Oh, why did I love her so much ...?" A lone tear ran down his face beneath the mask, as his heart wrenched itself open once more. He did not try to supress the memories this time, nor did he supress the tears. No longer could he continue to fight such a battle. He realized once again that Christine could never be erased from his mind; she had unknowingly impressed herself so deeply upon his life that even in her eternal absence she continued to exist. A new ghost haunted the Opera now.
"We d-do not choose who or where or even when w-we will love, Erik," Bianca whispered softly into the darkness. "Only ou-our hearts know, and th-those are secrets that are forever kept." The words hammered through his brain, echoing over and over again until he thought he might scream.
After a long pause, Erik tore himself away from his dismal thoughts, a wave of fatigue and unusual peace washing through him. The past, he had realized, was grim and unchangeable, and the future was nonexistent; his only thoughts now were concerned with the present. It was all he had left. He was tired, more tired than he had ever felt before as though something had drained both his body and soul of all its combined strength. The sudden silence undisturbed by the periodic strains of Bianca's raspy breathing alarmed him, and he lifted his eyes towards the fading child who lay by his feet, at last remembering why she had returned.
"Bianca ..." His soft whisper echoed throughout the labyrinth; heard by all except her. Extending a trembling finger, Erik gently reached out to feel her hand. The familiar chill of death met with his touch. Her breathing had subsided to short, hurried gasps of air, and the strange cat eyes which had haunted his dreams were now glazed over and distant. Acknowledging his thin fingers on her skin, she weakly attempted to grip them with the remainder of her strength.
"Sing to me, Erik ... so I won't be afraid ..." Her words were so soft and feeble, he was at first unsure if she had even uttered them at all, but the slight tightening of her grasp around his trembling hand confirmed his assumptions of her last request. With only a moment's hesitation, Erik opened his mouth and gently began to soothe her with his heavenly voice.
"'Kyrie, kyrie, kyrie eleison ...'" His wedding mass for Christine had now become the requiem for a street urchin. The cruel irony leered out from the shadows and laughed noiselessly in his face, yet he unconciously continued, as if pulled along by some invisable string. Time seemed to crawl by as Erik repeated the sacred words over and over again, while keeping a close watch on the irregular rise and fall of her chest. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she exhaled a small, almost inaudible sigh, and opened her glassy eyes, which had closed when he had first begun to sing. A look of wonder and blissful serenity passed over her face as she looked to the ceiling and uttered one word ...
"Angel ..."
And then there was nothing but silence. The darkness suddenly seemed thick and intense; an incredible black hole of death that lay waiting to swallow him up, as it had done to Bianca. Another tear ran down his face. This time, he carefully removed the mask and set it on the floor by her hand, which sat lifelessly upon his. Taking her head in his tender grasp, he turned it towards his own and silently studied her empty eyes; eyes that had once held such spirit and endurance. Now they held nothing except the faint glimmer of a life that could have been so much more. Erik softly reached out with his thin fingers and closed them, one after the other, so she would be spared the sight of his face, even though he knew she was dead and could no longer see. Laying her carefully back down upon the cold ground, he gently lifted her pale fingers to his lips and kissed them. As the last candle slowly burned itself out, Erik heard himself whisper his final goodbye to the child who had made him see.
"Il commiato, la mia Principessa ..." Farewell, my Princess ...
~Finis~