Author's note: A really rather short chapter now, reader mine – however, it does have a somewhat important discussion in it, and then the further chapters after it will feature some more new scenes, particularly one with a certain Persian friend of our favorite masked man, and a trip to the Bois with our two protagonists…
Disclaimer: The first time I listened to the Phantom of the Opera (the original cast edition), I was sobbing at the end because Christine left the poor Phantom and went off with Raoul, who didn't really even strike me as all that wonderful. So now I've gone and written a version of my own, based on several versions of Phantom, and with it, I hope to prove that I am nothing more than a devoted phan. Phan, not owner of anything Phantom. There.
Chapter Fourteen –
Let Me Stay
Christine's narrative…
The next morning, I awoke to find myself in my room in the Phantom's lair. I started upon seeing this, recalling how we had returned to the lair and gone our separate ways, with nary a word to one another, to our own rooms, and wondering what was going on above, since my presence would have surely been missed by now.
Raoul.
Suddenly, I heard the rustle of a paper, like a page in a book being turned, and then the soft clearing of a male throat. I sat up all the way, twisting around so that I could see the other side of the room from whence the sound had come.
My eyes met with a truly interesting and truly unique sight.
The Phantom of the Opera, looking very absorbed in the book that he appeared to be reading, was sitting in one of the two chairs beside the fireplace: his legs nonchalantly draped over the arm of the chair that he was seated in, elbows propped up against its back. He wore a sleek, form-fitting black satin vest, a full-cut, silky poet's shirt that melded with fluid grace to his muscular and yet slender body, black breeches, and a pair of shiny black boots. He spoke then, and I was startled, for he never once looked at me, although it occurred to me that my awakening hadn't been the quietest that I had ever performed.
"You needn't be concerned about your precious Vicomte's reaction to your disappearance, mon enfant," he told me, his mismatched eyes continuing to scan the pages of his book with frightening intensity. I shivered a bit, watching him. "One of his many lackeys appeared at the ball last night and informed him that he was called away on business to England. He departed on this venture only because he hadn't any chance to refuse – family orders, I suppose."
He was silent then, and I sensed coldness in his air. He still hadn't forgiven me for being with Raoul: whether there was love, or no love, in the companionship at all. Perhaps it was something else. I didn't know.
I got out of the bed, crossing the room to sink down onto the floor in front of him, carefully placing my hand on his as he let the book drop to rest in his lap. I gazed up at him, wanting for him to look at me; it seemed he knew my intention, for he stared steadfastly into the fire for a moment or two, his blue and green eyes glittering strangely. Finally, he turned his face towards me, and I saw that his mask, like most of his garb that day, was black – with a sparkling silver teardrop painted beneath its eye. We looked into one another's eyes for a long, incredibly tense moment, staring deep into each other. Then, he spoke, and his voice was cold and even, like ice.
"Why did you come back?" he asked, pointedly.
I felt my eyes widen a bit. Didn't he know?
"You know why."
But he only reacted to this by letting a contemptuous, almost sarcastic expression come onto his proud, beautiful face and asking, "Do I?"
He set the book on the table that had been placed beside the chair and stood, towering above me in all of his dark elegance. I gazed up at him, feeling small and unwanted, confronted by the master of the universe of magic and shadows.
"Let's suppose I don't, Christine. Enlighten me."
I stood then as well, feeling anger flood into my veins. If he was so angry with me, then let him show it instead of mocking me like this! If he couldn't see why I had come back, then perhaps it was going to take more than mere soft words to win him over.
"Erik, stop being such an idiot!" I spat at him, incensed. "This is ridiculous – didn't you realize that the only reason why I left you that night was because both Raoul dragged me away? After that, I couldn't get back in to the opera house because the doors were locked – I was shut out, and there was nothing I could do to find my way back in! I don't know this place like you, but believe me, if I could have found my way to you, I would have! I don't want to stay out there with Raoul and learn of his world. That, my Angel, is why I came back. I want to be with you!"
He stared at me for a moment, causing me to step back. As soon as my initial tirade had been spent, I knew that his anger – and his anger alone – was the one thing that I should be afraid of. But if he was going to be angry about the truth…
I couldn't help that.
"But…"
He seemed to lose strength then, his shoulders bowing and his hands dropping limply to his sides as his head lowered. "But…"
Then he looked up at me again, and I saw that something – something almost like hope – was flickering in his eyes.
"Then…you're not engaged to him of your own free will?"
"No." I replied. "Raoul asked me to marry him. You remember that. He thinks that, because I was in his home and therefore 'within his control', he has the right to say that we're engaged. I have practically no choice in the matter. He will say what he wants to say about my attachment to him, and his to me, but…"
I stepped close to him and took both of his hands in mine, then reached up with one hand and tipped his chin back, making him look straight into my eyes again.
"Erik, I won't marry him. I told you that before."
"I know…" His voice was barely a trembling whisper. I steeled myself against the floods of overwhelming emotions that threatened to take me captive. I couldn't see him cry – not for me. Not Erik, the Angel of Music. Not now.
"Erik." I said again.
He stared at me.
"Erik, teach me again. Let me stay with you…at least until Raoul comes back."
He was breaking apart inside – I could see it in his eyes, and he wasn't hiding it from me. Here, now, we needed each other the most, in the wake of our loneliness and pain, after all that had happened, after being apart for so long. After everything.
"Christine, I've missed you so…"
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