Ch.2
As Raoul rowed them steadily across the lake, Christine continued to look back, tears falling from her eyes and rolling down her cheeks, dripping steadily onto her hands. She clasped them tightly in her lap, so tightly that her fingers were beginning to turn purple from lack of blood circulation. Raoul seemed to notice none of this as he continued his slow, steady pace.
Why Erik? Christine thought desperately. Why must I go? I love you, can't I stay with you? She repeated this thought in her head over and over until they reached the other side of the lake what seemed like years later. Raoul helped Christine out of the boat, and nearly carried her a few steps while she tried to regain her balance on land. It had never felt strange getting out of the boat before, and it was strange to her that she would be now. But Erik has always been with you before. A voice in Christine's head reminded her. She missed him already, and she had barely been away for long at all. He was right there, on the other side of the lake, with the Persian, what was his name? Christine tried desperately to remember the name Erik had used to address this man who was his friend.
"Raoul, what was the Persian man's name?" Christine demanded suddenly, not knowing why it was suddenly so important for her to know.
"What? What has that got to do with the price of tea in China, Christine? Why does it matter?" Raoul demanded, still slightly shaken form his time in the torture chamber, Christine's question had reminded him of it all over again. He hadn't meant to snap at her, and he felt badly for it.
"I believe Erik called him Daroga, Christine, he did not tell me his true name, as he felt it was of little consequence. Does that answer your question well enough?" Christie nodded her head positively.
"Thank you Raoul, I'm not sure what caused me to ask. I can see that I've upset you."
"No, no, not at all Christine." Raoul lied cheerfully, failing to hide the desperation in his voice. "We really should be getting on though, shouldn't we?"
"What?" Christine had been thinking about the words Erik had spoken to the Daroga, as he called him. "Would you perhaps join me for a cup of tea my old friend." Old friend, he had never told her he had a friend. He had told her everything else about his life. All of the terrible things he had done, but he had never told her the good things, such as he must have done some things even then which made him worthy of friendship, of compassion, of love. Why is it that he can never see the good in himself, when he sees everything else?
"Come Christine, we really must hurry." Raoul said urgently.
"Why? Why must we hurry?" Christine asked, a little more harshly than she had meant, because she had been startled by his voice interrupting her thoughts. Raoul winced slightly but took her hand firmly and led her at a determined pace back up to the main floor of the Opera House. Christine's thoughts were whirling in her head, making it hard to separate them logically. "I shouldn't be leaving, I should stay with Erik, I love him." Was the one thing she could focus on. The one thing a very persistent voice in her head kept repeating over and over again. Yet just as persistent young man was leading her steadily away. Away from what she knew she wanted, and towards something she knew she could not escape.
She was not afraid. She had never been afraid of Raoul. That was one of the things that had drawn her to him, especially during her time with Erik. Everything about Raoul was safe. He hid nothing, kept no secrets and made her feel very secure and cared for. But Erik, Erik had mad her feel alive, incredibly alive whatever else she was feeling, be it fear or anger or love. Love. Erik. And still Raoul led her steadily up through the cellars, up to a world of light. To a world she had once wanted, one that Erik still thought she wanted, or needed. But it was a world she no longer cared to see. She could go her whole life without seeing the crowded streets of Paris, and the bright sun that pained her eyes to look at.
It was not as if she had never gone up into the streets while she had been with Erik. She had gone for many walks down the streets with him at night. She would have felt afraid walking the streets of Paris at night with anyone but Erik. She knew that no one would harm while he was with her, and he could most definitely protect her better than Raoul, who would surely die gallantly trying if it came to that.
Dear Erik. Christine found herself thinking. It was never your strength, or lack thereof which pained you, but moreover your heart. Your heart has hurt you more times than I know surely, and I do believe that I have just hurt it once more, fatally, I fear. I want so badly to heel you, but how can I if it is not what you want?
Suddenly, Christine caught the tip of her shoe in the hem of her skirt and went sprawling on the ground. She lay there for quite some time, despite Raoul's concerned words and gentle urgency that they must hurry. She had not stopped her silent weeping since they had left Erik's house, and she now wept openly, allowing the tears to coarse down her cheeks, and accepted Raoul's awkward attempts to comfort her, although she knew he did not understand what was grieving her so. He can't understand. Christine knew, as she continued to sob in the darkness. No matter how hard he may try, how can he ever understand?
"Christine, please." Raoul pleaded, helping her back to her feet as her sobs lessened once again to a silent stream of tears running down her cheeks. "Please, we must hurry before~" he paused suddenly, looking ill at ease.
Before he changes his mind. Christine finished silently in her head. He need not say it; she knew that those were the words he had been thinking. She wished with all her heart that Raoul's fear could be justified, but she knew that Erik would stand by his decision. She would return though, she promised that she would return, the day before her wedding to Raoul. She looked upon that day as the one glimmer of light in what was to be her future. Stop it! Her mind screamed at her. You have to stop thinking as though you've been sentenced to death instead of a life with your friend, a very dear friend. She would have to make the best of the life she was going to have with Raoul. With these thoughts all whirling around in her mind, Christine wiped her eyes, heaved a sigh, and followed Raoul out the doors of the Opera.
As Raoul rowed them steadily across the lake, Christine continued to look back, tears falling from her eyes and rolling down her cheeks, dripping steadily onto her hands. She clasped them tightly in her lap, so tightly that her fingers were beginning to turn purple from lack of blood circulation. Raoul seemed to notice none of this as he continued his slow, steady pace.
Why Erik? Christine thought desperately. Why must I go? I love you, can't I stay with you? She repeated this thought in her head over and over until they reached the other side of the lake what seemed like years later. Raoul helped Christine out of the boat, and nearly carried her a few steps while she tried to regain her balance on land. It had never felt strange getting out of the boat before, and it was strange to her that she would be now. But Erik has always been with you before. A voice in Christine's head reminded her. She missed him already, and she had barely been away for long at all. He was right there, on the other side of the lake, with the Persian, what was his name? Christine tried desperately to remember the name Erik had used to address this man who was his friend.
"Raoul, what was the Persian man's name?" Christine demanded suddenly, not knowing why it was suddenly so important for her to know.
"What? What has that got to do with the price of tea in China, Christine? Why does it matter?" Raoul demanded, still slightly shaken form his time in the torture chamber, Christine's question had reminded him of it all over again. He hadn't meant to snap at her, and he felt badly for it.
"I believe Erik called him Daroga, Christine, he did not tell me his true name, as he felt it was of little consequence. Does that answer your question well enough?" Christie nodded her head positively.
"Thank you Raoul, I'm not sure what caused me to ask. I can see that I've upset you."
"No, no, not at all Christine." Raoul lied cheerfully, failing to hide the desperation in his voice. "We really should be getting on though, shouldn't we?"
"What?" Christine had been thinking about the words Erik had spoken to the Daroga, as he called him. "Would you perhaps join me for a cup of tea my old friend." Old friend, he had never told her he had a friend. He had told her everything else about his life. All of the terrible things he had done, but he had never told her the good things, such as he must have done some things even then which made him worthy of friendship, of compassion, of love. Why is it that he can never see the good in himself, when he sees everything else?
"Come Christine, we really must hurry." Raoul said urgently.
"Why? Why must we hurry?" Christine asked, a little more harshly than she had meant, because she had been startled by his voice interrupting her thoughts. Raoul winced slightly but took her hand firmly and led her at a determined pace back up to the main floor of the Opera House. Christine's thoughts were whirling in her head, making it hard to separate them logically. "I shouldn't be leaving, I should stay with Erik, I love him." Was the one thing she could focus on. The one thing a very persistent voice in her head kept repeating over and over again. Yet just as persistent young man was leading her steadily away. Away from what she knew she wanted, and towards something she knew she could not escape.
She was not afraid. She had never been afraid of Raoul. That was one of the things that had drawn her to him, especially during her time with Erik. Everything about Raoul was safe. He hid nothing, kept no secrets and made her feel very secure and cared for. But Erik, Erik had mad her feel alive, incredibly alive whatever else she was feeling, be it fear or anger or love. Love. Erik. And still Raoul led her steadily up through the cellars, up to a world of light. To a world she had once wanted, one that Erik still thought she wanted, or needed. But it was a world she no longer cared to see. She could go her whole life without seeing the crowded streets of Paris, and the bright sun that pained her eyes to look at.
It was not as if she had never gone up into the streets while she had been with Erik. She had gone for many walks down the streets with him at night. She would have felt afraid walking the streets of Paris at night with anyone but Erik. She knew that no one would harm while he was with her, and he could most definitely protect her better than Raoul, who would surely die gallantly trying if it came to that.
Dear Erik. Christine found herself thinking. It was never your strength, or lack thereof which pained you, but moreover your heart. Your heart has hurt you more times than I know surely, and I do believe that I have just hurt it once more, fatally, I fear. I want so badly to heel you, but how can I if it is not what you want?
Suddenly, Christine caught the tip of her shoe in the hem of her skirt and went sprawling on the ground. She lay there for quite some time, despite Raoul's concerned words and gentle urgency that they must hurry. She had not stopped her silent weeping since they had left Erik's house, and she now wept openly, allowing the tears to coarse down her cheeks, and accepted Raoul's awkward attempts to comfort her, although she knew he did not understand what was grieving her so. He can't understand. Christine knew, as she continued to sob in the darkness. No matter how hard he may try, how can he ever understand?
"Christine, please." Raoul pleaded, helping her back to her feet as her sobs lessened once again to a silent stream of tears running down her cheeks. "Please, we must hurry before~" he paused suddenly, looking ill at ease.
Before he changes his mind. Christine finished silently in her head. He need not say it; she knew that those were the words he had been thinking. She wished with all her heart that Raoul's fear could be justified, but she knew that Erik would stand by his decision. She would return though, she promised that she would return, the day before her wedding to Raoul. She looked upon that day as the one glimmer of light in what was to be her future. Stop it! Her mind screamed at her. You have to stop thinking as though you've been sentenced to death instead of a life with your friend, a very dear friend. She would have to make the best of the life she was going to have with Raoul. With these thoughts all whirling around in her mind, Christine wiped her eyes, heaved a sigh, and followed Raoul out the doors of the Opera.