Disclaimer: I've had an epiphany!!!! Okay, drum roll..... They... Aren't...
Mine! *gasps from readers* "Really??? We had no idea! You wrote them so
well!" *blushes* "well..." hehe! Too many fun-sized snicker bars... okay,
enough nonsense. Onto chapter 3...
The Fate of the Heart
*Christine*
She awoke in a cloud of fog. Her eyes were closed, her mouth thick and pasty from nonuse, and there was a feeling of a weight pushing her down into a soft comfortable mattress. She wanted to move and see where she was, but her curiosity was cut short when she tried to get up. There was a strong and yet ever-so-gentle hand that pushed her back down into the confines of the bed.
She licked her lips, and tried to speak, but her voice cracked and failed her. "Er... Eri..."
"Shhhh. Be quiet, my dear Christine. You're safe now. I've taken care of you. You will be alright. Yes, that's right, my angel, go back to sleep. I will be here. I will always be here."
But by the time the voice had finished, she was already fast asleep.
*erik*
As he had cleaned her wounds, he had found that some of the blood wasn't hers. It was a different texture, a different color. What could have happened so that she would have someone else's blood on her? He was perplexed, but kept his mind from it. He stopped thinking about anything, for if he tried, his heart always ended up in his throat, and his mind always strayed to the unconscious figure that lay on his bed.
It had been a rough week for him.
Seeing Christine again was enough to throw him into insanity. But seeing her in this state, in and out of consciousness, injured and unable to protect herself against whatever had done this to her... he felt as if someone had ripped out his heart and had started an irish jig on it.
And now, with so many questions unanswered, and the anger of his angel hurt still pumping through his veins, he found it hard to focus. But he knew he would never leave her side as long as she was still asleep. His heart would not allow it.
As he sat and watched her breathe slowly in and out, the wonder and love he felt came back twice as strong. Why had she come back? Had she just come back so he could take care of her, and then would walk out again? Or was it because she finally felt some remorse about what she had done to him? Maybe... maybe, she still had feelings for him... He would not let himself think that. He would not let his hopes be raised just to see the pushed back into the ground. He didn't think he could take that again.
In fact, he knew that if his heart were to be broken again, he would surely die.
*christine*
She woke twice more before she was able to stay awake more than an hour. And even after that, she was a prisoner in her bed. Erik, the ever-present nurse, she thought irritably. Who would have guessed he could be so mother hen-ish?
She knew that his actions were out of love, the undying love he had always felt for her. And always would, as long as she was living. Maybe after she was dead as well. The only problem left in her mind was if she knew how to return his love. If she loved him or not, but most of all, how to tell him what had happened. She looked over at him. He had finally fallen into the arms of sleep. She knew he would be alarmed if she left the room. But she was restless, and felt filthy. She needed to get the memories of that night off her skin. She needed to get his blood off of her. She needed to get out of bed, and have time to think. And she just couldn't stand it any longer.
"Erik?" She said softly, to make sure he was asleep. He did not stir, but mumbled something about a tunnel and a child in India. She knew he was asleep.
She got up silently, and tip-toed passed his sleeping body to the adjoining bathroom. But before she opened the door to head to her bath, she slipped off her tattered clothes and left them on the floor, to make sure Erik wouldn't walk in. She took a robe, and walked inside. She sighed with relief at the site of the bath, and turned on the water. She bathed for to her seemed like a warm, pleasant eternity, but was, in reality, only an hour. But at the end of that time, in the adjoining room, Erik knew something was wrong.
*erik*
He couldn't hear her breathing.
His eyes snapped open with frightening speed, and he jumped up and at her bed before he could breathe. But she wasn't there.
He suppressed a cry of anguish, and fled to the next room, praying for her again, for what had been the second time in three days. He stepped over some clothes on the floor, wondering for half a second what they were doing there.
He flung the door open... and quickly backed out, turning ten different shades of red, and shouting apologies through the door. He had found out why the clothes were on the floor.
He cursed his blindness to the obvious clue she had left for him. She still had that effect on him; he would jump off a mountain to save her favorite scarf, or dive into murky water to find her ring. He would do anything for her happiness. That was the one thing he and that boy Raoul had in common.
In the midst of his musing, Christine came out sheepishly, wrapped in a long, fluffy robe. "I'm sorry. I thought you would have seen the clothes... it's my fault."
"No, no, it's entirely my fault. I was too..."he bit back blind, and said, "...too worried about you to see the clothes. I'm glad... I mean, you seem in fine condition, now, that is, do you feel... alright?" He cursed himself again for being so flustered. He had never thought he would see her again. It brought so much joy to his heart to just see her smile that he nearly forgot he had the ability to speak.
"Yes, I'm feeling much better... thanks to you." She took a step closer, and his heart told him to move forward with her. But his legs were locked in place. She didn't notice, and continued, "Why did you help me? I expected you to kill me. Or at least turn away from me. After all I've done..." She turned away, and started for the dining hall. He followed, wanting to tell her that nothing would make him turn away from her, nothing in all the world would keep him from helping her. But he let her talk, and tried to hear what she was saying. "That is, I'm so glad you did help me, I'd probably be dead right now, if it wasn't for you. I would be dead. Once again I am saved by the Phantom of the Opera." She was mumbling to herself now. He was concerned, knowing that she was still recovering, and took a step forward. But she retreated to the big couch, talking to herself all the way, "Ironic, really. It was supposed to be the other way around. But he had to ruin that. Every dream I've ever known has been ruined. And it's always my fault. I always ruin my dreams. And I kill the dreams of others. And then... I... Oh, Erik!" She turned on him suddenly, and threw herself into his arms.
He held himself stiffly for a few seconds, trying to get used to these foreign feelings and this awkward new position. He realized the amazing wonderful feeling of a warm body pressed up against his own. This human contact had never happened to him. Not even his mother would let him touch her. Ever since then, he had thought that everything he touched would turn evil. He still didn't know if that were false. But Christine was different. She... she didn't care about his awful face.
He suddenly pulled away from her, and turned his back. He didn't want her to see the tears...
*christine*
At first she had thought that she had done something wrong. Then she heard the soft sobs emanating from behind his cloak. She felt so horrible, she couldn't think of what to do. She took another step towards him.
"I... I'm sorry. I... I don't know what I was thinking. I was... I was just so... so upset... I guess you'll want me to leav-"
"NO!" He shouted and whirled around, and she found herself right up next to him, eyes wide. They stared at each other for a long time, and she felt as if he was reaching out and touching her heart. She realized belatedly that he was reaching out for her, trying to touch her cheek. She gently grabbed his hand, and softly, she murmured, "If only we could stand like this forever. Locked in each others eyes. Que voyez-vous dans mes yeux, mon cher Erik? (What do you see in my eyes, my dear Erik?)" Then she broke the connection, knowing that if she had stayed one second more, she would have fallen in love.
She moved to the couch, and, stunned from what had just happened, he followed her. "I suppose you want to know what happened." She said, as a statement, not a question. He could only nod. "Well, I suppose you're thinking it was Raoul." He nodded again. She paused, taking a deep breath. She wasn't sure if she was stable enough to handle the emotional memories this was about to bring up, but with Erik at her side, she knew that she would be prepared for anything.
"Well, you wouldn't be wrong..."
To Be Continued. It's the worst possible place to end off, but my advisor says if I don't get off the computer, I'll have it taken away for a month. You see, there's this thing about study hall and using your computer... but at least it was a long chapter? Right? *meek voice* right??
Oh God, please don't kill me!!!
P.S. if this chapter seems random and of no real point to the story, not to worry. Being the good little Phan that I am, I wrote out an outline, so now I know exactly what I'm doing. And trust me, the ending is going to be great! *squeals and jumps up and down* can't wait!!!!
The Fate of the Heart
*Christine*
She awoke in a cloud of fog. Her eyes were closed, her mouth thick and pasty from nonuse, and there was a feeling of a weight pushing her down into a soft comfortable mattress. She wanted to move and see where she was, but her curiosity was cut short when she tried to get up. There was a strong and yet ever-so-gentle hand that pushed her back down into the confines of the bed.
She licked her lips, and tried to speak, but her voice cracked and failed her. "Er... Eri..."
"Shhhh. Be quiet, my dear Christine. You're safe now. I've taken care of you. You will be alright. Yes, that's right, my angel, go back to sleep. I will be here. I will always be here."
But by the time the voice had finished, she was already fast asleep.
*erik*
As he had cleaned her wounds, he had found that some of the blood wasn't hers. It was a different texture, a different color. What could have happened so that she would have someone else's blood on her? He was perplexed, but kept his mind from it. He stopped thinking about anything, for if he tried, his heart always ended up in his throat, and his mind always strayed to the unconscious figure that lay on his bed.
It had been a rough week for him.
Seeing Christine again was enough to throw him into insanity. But seeing her in this state, in and out of consciousness, injured and unable to protect herself against whatever had done this to her... he felt as if someone had ripped out his heart and had started an irish jig on it.
And now, with so many questions unanswered, and the anger of his angel hurt still pumping through his veins, he found it hard to focus. But he knew he would never leave her side as long as she was still asleep. His heart would not allow it.
As he sat and watched her breathe slowly in and out, the wonder and love he felt came back twice as strong. Why had she come back? Had she just come back so he could take care of her, and then would walk out again? Or was it because she finally felt some remorse about what she had done to him? Maybe... maybe, she still had feelings for him... He would not let himself think that. He would not let his hopes be raised just to see the pushed back into the ground. He didn't think he could take that again.
In fact, he knew that if his heart were to be broken again, he would surely die.
*christine*
She woke twice more before she was able to stay awake more than an hour. And even after that, she was a prisoner in her bed. Erik, the ever-present nurse, she thought irritably. Who would have guessed he could be so mother hen-ish?
She knew that his actions were out of love, the undying love he had always felt for her. And always would, as long as she was living. Maybe after she was dead as well. The only problem left in her mind was if she knew how to return his love. If she loved him or not, but most of all, how to tell him what had happened. She looked over at him. He had finally fallen into the arms of sleep. She knew he would be alarmed if she left the room. But she was restless, and felt filthy. She needed to get the memories of that night off her skin. She needed to get his blood off of her. She needed to get out of bed, and have time to think. And she just couldn't stand it any longer.
"Erik?" She said softly, to make sure he was asleep. He did not stir, but mumbled something about a tunnel and a child in India. She knew he was asleep.
She got up silently, and tip-toed passed his sleeping body to the adjoining bathroom. But before she opened the door to head to her bath, she slipped off her tattered clothes and left them on the floor, to make sure Erik wouldn't walk in. She took a robe, and walked inside. She sighed with relief at the site of the bath, and turned on the water. She bathed for to her seemed like a warm, pleasant eternity, but was, in reality, only an hour. But at the end of that time, in the adjoining room, Erik knew something was wrong.
*erik*
He couldn't hear her breathing.
His eyes snapped open with frightening speed, and he jumped up and at her bed before he could breathe. But she wasn't there.
He suppressed a cry of anguish, and fled to the next room, praying for her again, for what had been the second time in three days. He stepped over some clothes on the floor, wondering for half a second what they were doing there.
He flung the door open... and quickly backed out, turning ten different shades of red, and shouting apologies through the door. He had found out why the clothes were on the floor.
He cursed his blindness to the obvious clue she had left for him. She still had that effect on him; he would jump off a mountain to save her favorite scarf, or dive into murky water to find her ring. He would do anything for her happiness. That was the one thing he and that boy Raoul had in common.
In the midst of his musing, Christine came out sheepishly, wrapped in a long, fluffy robe. "I'm sorry. I thought you would have seen the clothes... it's my fault."
"No, no, it's entirely my fault. I was too..."he bit back blind, and said, "...too worried about you to see the clothes. I'm glad... I mean, you seem in fine condition, now, that is, do you feel... alright?" He cursed himself again for being so flustered. He had never thought he would see her again. It brought so much joy to his heart to just see her smile that he nearly forgot he had the ability to speak.
"Yes, I'm feeling much better... thanks to you." She took a step closer, and his heart told him to move forward with her. But his legs were locked in place. She didn't notice, and continued, "Why did you help me? I expected you to kill me. Or at least turn away from me. After all I've done..." She turned away, and started for the dining hall. He followed, wanting to tell her that nothing would make him turn away from her, nothing in all the world would keep him from helping her. But he let her talk, and tried to hear what she was saying. "That is, I'm so glad you did help me, I'd probably be dead right now, if it wasn't for you. I would be dead. Once again I am saved by the Phantom of the Opera." She was mumbling to herself now. He was concerned, knowing that she was still recovering, and took a step forward. But she retreated to the big couch, talking to herself all the way, "Ironic, really. It was supposed to be the other way around. But he had to ruin that. Every dream I've ever known has been ruined. And it's always my fault. I always ruin my dreams. And I kill the dreams of others. And then... I... Oh, Erik!" She turned on him suddenly, and threw herself into his arms.
He held himself stiffly for a few seconds, trying to get used to these foreign feelings and this awkward new position. He realized the amazing wonderful feeling of a warm body pressed up against his own. This human contact had never happened to him. Not even his mother would let him touch her. Ever since then, he had thought that everything he touched would turn evil. He still didn't know if that were false. But Christine was different. She... she didn't care about his awful face.
He suddenly pulled away from her, and turned his back. He didn't want her to see the tears...
*christine*
At first she had thought that she had done something wrong. Then she heard the soft sobs emanating from behind his cloak. She felt so horrible, she couldn't think of what to do. She took another step towards him.
"I... I'm sorry. I... I don't know what I was thinking. I was... I was just so... so upset... I guess you'll want me to leav-"
"NO!" He shouted and whirled around, and she found herself right up next to him, eyes wide. They stared at each other for a long time, and she felt as if he was reaching out and touching her heart. She realized belatedly that he was reaching out for her, trying to touch her cheek. She gently grabbed his hand, and softly, she murmured, "If only we could stand like this forever. Locked in each others eyes. Que voyez-vous dans mes yeux, mon cher Erik? (What do you see in my eyes, my dear Erik?)" Then she broke the connection, knowing that if she had stayed one second more, she would have fallen in love.
She moved to the couch, and, stunned from what had just happened, he followed her. "I suppose you want to know what happened." She said, as a statement, not a question. He could only nod. "Well, I suppose you're thinking it was Raoul." He nodded again. She paused, taking a deep breath. She wasn't sure if she was stable enough to handle the emotional memories this was about to bring up, but with Erik at her side, she knew that she would be prepared for anything.
"Well, you wouldn't be wrong..."
To Be Continued. It's the worst possible place to end off, but my advisor says if I don't get off the computer, I'll have it taken away for a month. You see, there's this thing about study hall and using your computer... but at least it was a long chapter? Right? *meek voice* right??
Oh God, please don't kill me!!!
P.S. if this chapter seems random and of no real point to the story, not to worry. Being the good little Phan that I am, I wrote out an outline, so now I know exactly what I'm doing. And trust me, the ending is going to be great! *squeals and jumps up and down* can't wait!!!!