Previously in Perfect Love, Christine discovers that Raoul did not die after Erik attacked him. She makes quick plans to get him out of Erik's lair and to safety. But little does she know that Erik knows that he did not kill Raoul and that their escape was a part of his plan. Christine and Raoul plot Erik's demise… is Erik prepared? Or does Erik have a plan of his own?
I still do not own Phantom of the Opera. Although maybe someday… Oh dear, my chapters get longer as I go along.
Stars flashed and blinked out of sight. Just an optical illusion, he reminded himself. The stars could not possibly know what he was thinking. They couldn't possibly be warning him…
The nights were quite cold this time of year, yet he found himself here almost every night regardless of the weather. His cloak was pulled tightly around his body, his wide hat pulled low over his brow. No fear of the wind biting at his face as his mask did a wonderful job of protecting him from that. As the years passed, he found more reasons to be thankful for the mask. And yet, it was a barrier. It cut him from the rest of humanity until he felt that he could no longer call himself human.
The very top of the Opera house was safe. He could sit here in silence for hours and not have to suffer distraction or interruption. It was here that he'd had his best ideas. It was his secret and yet so very public place. All one had to do is look up at the well -lit theater toward the roof and they might actually catch a glimpse of him. But no one ever looked up.
He watched the stars with the patience of a cat awaiting a kill. He felt no resentment toward the stars. He didn't feel resentment for most things. It was just his nature to be a killer.
'Yes,' he muttered. 'But he still lives.'
Raoul.
The sky was remarkably clear tonight. If he stared long enough, he knew he would be rewarded with a shooting star. So many flew through the night, every night, and yet Erik was sure he was the only one to ever notice them. He thought of himself as a shooting star, when he was in one of his silly, romantic moods. He was moody tonight.
He lifted his long slender fingers to the ties of the mask and loosened them. He found himself to be more and more curious about his physical appearance as he grew older. He placed it at his side. He wondered what other people felt in their skin. Did they feel repulsion, like he did? Or do they even notice the bodies that house their souls?
His eyes closed and he reached upward once more. The last time he had seen his reflection had been years ago, but he knew his appearance. He knew every crevice, every fold, every damn wrinkle. He slowly ran his hand down his mangled face, taking careful note of every deformity. The hollow eyes, the void where his nose should have been… He rested his fingertips there and felt the soft tissue. It had ceased to bother him, now he was simply curious. He was hideous. It was a statement of fact, but that didn't bother him either.
He sighed and dropped his hands into his lap. It was late. Most of the carriages below were gone. Christine was still at the theater; he knew it. Raoul, however, was not. He was careful to note his leaving. It did not even cross his mind that this would be a trick. Raoul may be underhanded and conniving, but Christine was not. He felt betrayed by her, but he was not afraid of her.
He stood and let the cloak unfurl. He raised his eyes once more to the speckled sky above and was granted with a glimpse of a falling star. He laughed and tipped his hat to the glowing bits of light.
"Farewell. Wish me luck, friends."
Her reflection looked glum. It was another night, and so another battle with Raoul. Although she had agreed to help him end Erik's reign of terror, she did not like to be reminded of it. Couldn't he just forget it? Erik had not made another attempt on his life for days. Christine was satisfied that Erik would never try it again, but Raoul refused to trust her judgment.
"I don't want Erik to die, but what if Raoul is right?" she asked herself. "Erik hasn't visited me in days. Ever since that night…" She frowned at herself. It was better this way. Perhaps if Erik never came back, he would be safe from Raoul and…her? Her eyes were sad reflections in the mirror.
"I…"
"Christine." His voice carried from the other side of the mirror. She could not help the sly smile that crept over her face. It didn't matter suddenly that she was supposed to kill him, or that he was an insane psychotic killer himself; this was their secret, and he had come back.
"Erik."
"Will you come with me tonight?"
"Of course."
Silently the mirror swung forward. Erik stepped forward through the passage and extended his hand to her. She hesitated. If Raoul knew of this, he would go after Erik with everything he had. She stared at Erik's hand, at his long fingers. Such long fine fingers, perfect for playing the organ. The hand of an artist. Now was not the time for thoughts of Raoul. She stepped forward and took hold of his warm hand as he pulled her close. The mirror swung shut behind them.
"Where have you been for so long?" she asked.
He laughed at her. "I thought you were plotting to kill me."
"Oh." She was surprised. "I don't know what you're talking about." She stuttered.
He stood in the darkness looking at her. "Why do you always lie to me Christine?" he sounded sad.
Christine didn't know what to say. She wasn't sure if he was still looking at her, as the passage was rather dark. She knew she had disappointed him somehow.
"Erik, I'm…sorry. I never meant..." She was cut off. Erik spun around suddenly and grabbed her hand. He started off in a run down the passage toward his lair. Christine tried desperately to keep her balance, for if she fell she was certain Erik would not stop to help her up. He'd probably drag her along…
"Erik! Why are we running!?"
He was silent as he ran. He seemed angry and Christine felt frightened. They were nearing the lair and for some inexplicable reason, Christine suddenly felt scared for her life.
The moment they entered his chambers he flung her down on a chair. Christine cowered and raised her hands to shield her face. Erik paced in front of her furiously. With every sharp turn she felt her heart rising up to her throat and her head pounding.
"Erik," she moaned. "Please calm down!"
He stopped his pacing and turned to her. She slowly lowered her hands and stared wide-eyed at the masked form. It was hard to tell what he was thinking. His eyes were blank and masks have no expression. She searched the empty face for some sign.
He surprised her by leaping forward, his face inches from hers. She could see now that his eyes were not blank, but wild with fury.
"Curious tonight, child? I thought once was all you could stomach, but apparently you want more! Have I been mistaken all along? It is not the Vicomte's rugged good looks you desire, but the hideousness of a side show freak! Would you like to see what I have hidden beneath this mask? Is that why you stare at me? Fine!" Erik tore the mask from his face, breaking the fine threads that bound it.
Christine bit back her repulsion. She tried to look away but he held her head fast in his hands.
"Look!" he cried.
"Erik…stop it…"
"No!" He took her hands and placed them on his face. "Feel it! It's real. It's me. Does that frighten you? Do I frighten you?"
"Erik," Christine whispered. "Stop this. It doesn't matter. This doesn't matter."
He let go of her in disgust. "Oh, doesn't it?" He was sarcastic.
Christine sat heaving in the chair.
He stood staring at her as she regained her composure. She averted her gaze. She would not look at him. Erik slowly picked the mask up and tied it around his head once more.
"Leave, Christine. Go to your Raoul. Gaze upon his face and try to forget what you saw tonight. Try to imagine that there is no such creature that looks as I do. Kiss his charming lips and hold his darling face and pretend that I am only wearing an ugly mask." His words were gentle, tinged with bitterness. "But remember, neither you nor your handsome counterpart will ever kill me. I must warn you to abandon this futile gesture because I love you, but if you insist on it, than I will have to retaliate. And you do not want me to retaliate."
Christine backed slowly out of the room, but as soon as she reached the dark passage beyond his chamber door, she turned and sprinted, hoping to never see it again.
What a mess that turned out to be. Erik regretted having to resort to such cruel measures. He smiled as he remembered her expression at seeing his face so close. But it was necessary. She could not forget what he was, even for a moment. He wanted her to know him.
He sat on the edge of the chair he had thrown her into. It was still warm from her body. He rested his hand on the cushion beside him.
"You will understand eventually, love." He muttered. "It will all make sense eventually."
He lay back on the stiff chair and let his body relax. 'And now, I sleep.' As his eyes closed, his last thoughts were of her smiling face.