As everyone so loved my last piece of fiction Perfect Love, I thought I might continue on with it! In the first installment, Erik brutally murders Raoul, the Vicomte de Changy, much to Christine's dismay! But what is this? Could the Vicomte truly have...survived?
Like I mentioned earlier, I do not own Phantom of the Opera. I'm not exactly sure who does. Although I disagree with some, I have been told that my story is AU. I suppose technically it IS, but isn't all fan fiction? It still takes place in France in the Opera House. But I'm not writing a continuation of the book. Also, I've been told my people are OOC. Once again, I respectfully disagree. Read on.
Christine sat amazed for a full minute before she completely understood everything that had just happened. She noticed her hands were covered in blood. Quick tears came to her eyes as she remembered the violent death of her dearest friend a moment ago. Erik was playing furiously at the organ and calling to her. She felt the first stirrings of what could only be called hatred.
"Christine, sing for me," The voice was gentle, tired. "Please."
Christine stared at his back. He looked as though he was in the throes of ecstasy. The monster. The selfish obsessive monster. Her face contorted into an uncharacteristic sneer.
'I would sooner die,' she thought. Her eyes slowly focused on the body of Raoul again. "My love..."
She gasped. Had there been movement from Raoul? She didn't want to hope... She only prayed that Erik would continue his concerto of pain so that he wouldn't hear...
Quickly and as discreetly as she could, she reached for his wrist. All she wanted was a pulse. That was all she needed to revive her strength.
'Please Raoul, don't die.' Her thoughts were frantic. Was that movement under his eyelids? Yes...and a pulse, though faint, was present. She glanced at Erik. He was caught up in the frantic melodies of his new masterpiece. He would not notice.
She leaned forward to Raoul's ear.
"Darling, I know you can hear me. If I can get you out of here soon, I'm sure I can save you." Her voice was lower than a whisper. She didn't dare speak louder. She was sure nothing short of divine intervention could help them now.
Christine shot another glance at Erik. His playing had lost its frantic fervor suddenly. His song became a lullaby, soft and hypnotizing. Christine felt herself weaken as the notes penetrated her futile mental barrier of hatred.
"Erik, darling, what is this piece," Christine wondered at her ability to speak. "It's so familiar..."
"Nothing, love. Just listen..."
Christine could not stop herself from closing her eyes. She couldn't stop herself from lying down next to Raoul. She instinctively curled an arm around his torso and rested her head on his chest.
"It's beautiful Erik." She mumbled. And she was gone.
Erik stopped playing, sure now that Christine had fallen asleep. He turned around in his seat to look at her. He stared just a beat too long at her crumpled, sleeping form draped protectively across the bloody mess that was Raoul. The Vicomte's breathing was just a little more obvious now Erik noted with a smile.
He rose slowly and strode to the sleeping two.
"Another chance, love?" he whispered. He left the room.
Christine awoke slowly and with difficulty. Her head was spinning with childhood melodies. She remembered.
"Raoul! Now is our chance! We must escape before he comes back." Her eyes darted around the room searching desperately for any sign of Erik's hidden presence.
"Chris...tine...love...?"
"Yes, dear?" she answered, still searching.
"He...won't let...this happen."
Christine turned a reassuring smile to him. "Don't let him frighten you, Raoul."
He sighed.
Sure now that Erik was gone, Christine rose from the ground, defiantly pulling Raoul up with her.
"Dearest, I'm...too heavy." Raoul gasped.
"Nonsense, love."
He wouldn't let her go further. "Christine," his strength was fighting to return. "We've started something now. It won't end unless we kill him."
Christine laughed nervously. "Don't be silly..." But she saw the serious look in his eyes. "Raoul, we can't. He's just a sad, lonely man..."
"He almost killed me. For nothing."
She turned away. "I...don't want to."
He spread his arms slightly, still in her fragile grip. "Then this happens again."
"No..."
"He'll kill me for sure next time."
"Raoul."
"Don't you love me?"
"Yes..."
He paused. "Then prove it."
Christine was silent. It was true; Erik could conceivably try to kill Raoul again. He might event try to kill her, although she couldn't really see that happening. He'd helped her. He'd always believed in her. Could she really be so arrogant and try to take his life?
She looked into Raoul's blood splattered face and suddenly knew the answer. She'd almost lost him once, never again.
"I will." She promised. Together they stumbled out of Erik's lair.
The laugh started in the pit of his stomach and rumbled forth like no laugh heard before or since. It was a sad laughter, but Erik had never sounded happier.
She'd let him down.
Again.
He held his mask in his hands and grinned at it. How smooth, how clear, how perfect it was.
"Well," he told the mask. "They're going to kill me."
The mask stared back impassively.
"Isn't that funny?"
No response.
"Well, I think it is." He said as he laid the mask on the organ stool. His hiding place had been behind the organ. Such a simple place to hide, but neither had noticed him. He almost wished they had.
"Silly Christine," he said down to the mask. "You can not kill me. And neither can your little friend." He heard them in the passage beyond his door. They were lost. He turned his head to his door and smiled. Sort of.
"If you ever find your way out, do come back for a visit." Another laugh burst forth from his smiling mouth.
"Ta..." he muttered as he lifted the mask and exited.
Like I mentioned earlier, I do not own Phantom of the Opera. I'm not exactly sure who does. Although I disagree with some, I have been told that my story is AU. I suppose technically it IS, but isn't all fan fiction? It still takes place in France in the Opera House. But I'm not writing a continuation of the book. Also, I've been told my people are OOC. Once again, I respectfully disagree. Read on.
Christine sat amazed for a full minute before she completely understood everything that had just happened. She noticed her hands were covered in blood. Quick tears came to her eyes as she remembered the violent death of her dearest friend a moment ago. Erik was playing furiously at the organ and calling to her. She felt the first stirrings of what could only be called hatred.
"Christine, sing for me," The voice was gentle, tired. "Please."
Christine stared at his back. He looked as though he was in the throes of ecstasy. The monster. The selfish obsessive monster. Her face contorted into an uncharacteristic sneer.
'I would sooner die,' she thought. Her eyes slowly focused on the body of Raoul again. "My love..."
She gasped. Had there been movement from Raoul? She didn't want to hope... She only prayed that Erik would continue his concerto of pain so that he wouldn't hear...
Quickly and as discreetly as she could, she reached for his wrist. All she wanted was a pulse. That was all she needed to revive her strength.
'Please Raoul, don't die.' Her thoughts were frantic. Was that movement under his eyelids? Yes...and a pulse, though faint, was present. She glanced at Erik. He was caught up in the frantic melodies of his new masterpiece. He would not notice.
She leaned forward to Raoul's ear.
"Darling, I know you can hear me. If I can get you out of here soon, I'm sure I can save you." Her voice was lower than a whisper. She didn't dare speak louder. She was sure nothing short of divine intervention could help them now.
Christine shot another glance at Erik. His playing had lost its frantic fervor suddenly. His song became a lullaby, soft and hypnotizing. Christine felt herself weaken as the notes penetrated her futile mental barrier of hatred.
"Erik, darling, what is this piece," Christine wondered at her ability to speak. "It's so familiar..."
"Nothing, love. Just listen..."
Christine could not stop herself from closing her eyes. She couldn't stop herself from lying down next to Raoul. She instinctively curled an arm around his torso and rested her head on his chest.
"It's beautiful Erik." She mumbled. And she was gone.
Erik stopped playing, sure now that Christine had fallen asleep. He turned around in his seat to look at her. He stared just a beat too long at her crumpled, sleeping form draped protectively across the bloody mess that was Raoul. The Vicomte's breathing was just a little more obvious now Erik noted with a smile.
He rose slowly and strode to the sleeping two.
"Another chance, love?" he whispered. He left the room.
Christine awoke slowly and with difficulty. Her head was spinning with childhood melodies. She remembered.
"Raoul! Now is our chance! We must escape before he comes back." Her eyes darted around the room searching desperately for any sign of Erik's hidden presence.
"Chris...tine...love...?"
"Yes, dear?" she answered, still searching.
"He...won't let...this happen."
Christine turned a reassuring smile to him. "Don't let him frighten you, Raoul."
He sighed.
Sure now that Erik was gone, Christine rose from the ground, defiantly pulling Raoul up with her.
"Dearest, I'm...too heavy." Raoul gasped.
"Nonsense, love."
He wouldn't let her go further. "Christine," his strength was fighting to return. "We've started something now. It won't end unless we kill him."
Christine laughed nervously. "Don't be silly..." But she saw the serious look in his eyes. "Raoul, we can't. He's just a sad, lonely man..."
"He almost killed me. For nothing."
She turned away. "I...don't want to."
He spread his arms slightly, still in her fragile grip. "Then this happens again."
"No..."
"He'll kill me for sure next time."
"Raoul."
"Don't you love me?"
"Yes..."
He paused. "Then prove it."
Christine was silent. It was true; Erik could conceivably try to kill Raoul again. He might event try to kill her, although she couldn't really see that happening. He'd helped her. He'd always believed in her. Could she really be so arrogant and try to take his life?
She looked into Raoul's blood splattered face and suddenly knew the answer. She'd almost lost him once, never again.
"I will." She promised. Together they stumbled out of Erik's lair.
The laugh started in the pit of his stomach and rumbled forth like no laugh heard before or since. It was a sad laughter, but Erik had never sounded happier.
She'd let him down.
Again.
He held his mask in his hands and grinned at it. How smooth, how clear, how perfect it was.
"Well," he told the mask. "They're going to kill me."
The mask stared back impassively.
"Isn't that funny?"
No response.
"Well, I think it is." He said as he laid the mask on the organ stool. His hiding place had been behind the organ. Such a simple place to hide, but neither had noticed him. He almost wished they had.
"Silly Christine," he said down to the mask. "You can not kill me. And neither can your little friend." He heard them in the passage beyond his door. They were lost. He turned his head to his door and smiled. Sort of.
"If you ever find your way out, do come back for a visit." Another laugh burst forth from his smiling mouth.
"Ta..." he muttered as he lifted the mask and exited.