Chapter 93 Aftermath
Erik sat on the floor of the tunnel, in complete darkness. He could smell the damp, the rat droppings. The wall was cold against his back, but that was not why he was shivering uncontrollably. He no longer heard the mob who'd been baying for his blood and had no idea how much time had passed. Or if the Opera House had burnt down, collapsed around him, trapping him forever. Instead, he was still lost in memories of all that had just happened.
When he'd sat before in his bedroom, listening to the music box after sending Christine away to safety, he'd only thought about dying. Perhaps joining his father at last. What would it matter if the people hunting him had torn him apart? At least the physical pain would at last eclipse that which was inside him.
Christine had kissed him.
But in doing so she'd given him her body, not her heart. All that was left was her pity.
As her lips had first touched his own, he'd been unable to comprehend the silence. Until he'd realised, with her mouth pressed against his, his soul had - at last - stopped screaming.
Her hand had first been at the base of his neck, then moved up to touch the accursed right side of his face. She'd pulled back for an instant, then kissed him again, deeper this time and her hand was fully upon his scorned flesh. He'd begun to shake so hard, the rope had dropped from his hands, forgotten.
It was a kiss at first so beautiful and tender, then so deep and loving. Their mouths moving together as their bodies never would. It was everything he'd ever prayed for, ever wanted.
But it wasn't real. It wasn't for him. It had been to save de Chagny. Nothing more.
He'd felt tears upon his cheeks then and stood before her a broken man.
Broken by his own hand.
He'd driven her away with menace, fear, shouting at her, dragging her down there, demanding her hand. Everything wrong, he'd done everything wrong.
So he did what he'd always done. He kept her safe. He told them to run before the mob found them. He knew what bloodlust could cause in a crowd of angry men and would have her far from there, before she could be dragged into the chaos and violence.
He didn't deserve her tender kiss. He didn't deserve her pity or forgiveness. But she deserved the life she wanted to lead.
He couldn't trap her in this darkness he'd created. He had to get her away. He had to let her go.
He'd staggered to his bedroom to wait for absolution. Drawing the hunters to their prey, so she could then escape.
Pitiful hope had flared in him when he'd seen her in the doorway and he'd said the only thing he could, the only thing he had left.
That he loved her.
But she'd only walked towards him and placed de Chagny's ring back in his hand, closing it with her own.
And then she'd left. And his tears had begun anew.
He'd wished only for death then. Hell's fiery embrace could not possibly be as painful. To know he'd lost her because of his own actions only twisted the knife further into his shattered heart.
He'd stood then, coming back out of his bedroom to watch her go, not willing to miss one last sight of her. de Chagny would take care of her. She wasn't struggling against him; she wasn't fighting to return. She stood in the boat with her arm around the man she loved and looked back at him one last time.
It was over. She'd made her final choice.
She would live.
And so would he.
The decision made, he'd picked up a candlestick and began to smash the mirrors in his home. He'd made his escape, careful to shower the floor with shattered glass, to mask the mirror that contained his exit.
He'd walked through the last one, into the tunnels of the Opera House once more.
Now all he had to do was wait.
FIN
FINAL NOTES:
Thanks for reading, if you enjoyed this, please leave a review, they make my day. :D
There's a sequel to this called 'Eternal' posted over on AO3. I'm not sure if I can post it here, given it gets very explicit. If there's enough interest though, I can try. :)