A/N: I appreciate the reviews, and am deeply sorry for the grammar issues!
One matter to be cleared up that seems to cause confusion, Erik has
inherited some kind of eternal youth (totally thrown in there just to keep
him a romance interest, but we all love Erik and we want him to fall in
love and be loved don't we so hang in there please) so he is still middle
aged when he meets Christina who is blind. So please review this story,
thanks for all the comments I've gotten. Good or bad I need the help.
Christina's heart pounded as she searched for the handle to open the ancient door to the deserted street. Daylight warmed her face when she finally got the door opened. Why did she have to be blind? This section of town was rarely used, no one wanted to be by the famous ghost riddled Opera House. Her shoes clacked on the stone street as she leaned on her cane trying desperately to find out where she was. She had a good sense of direction, but in her state of panic she was frantic to find a landmark of some sort. She was out of breath, before she found her carriage and driver who was standing just over the hill and told them to rush home as soon as possible. She could never reveal her secret trip to the old Opera House to her grandpapa; he would lash out in anger. He had told her never to go there. He did not want to lose her like he almost lost his wife, but her grandmother's last dying wish was to know if the Phantom still lived. She knew all of the stories about the Phantom; her grandmother had not left out any details as she described the Opera House as it had once been, and the trip down to the Phantom's lair. The man she had been talking to in the Opera House might have well been the Phantom her grandmother had told her about, it had scared her to be talking to someone connected with her grandmother's past. She had to find out whether it was really the Phantom or not, she felt she would not be complete until she had heard the truth for her Grandmother Christine's sake. The carriage rattled as the wheels bumped over rocks and shook her out of her thoughts. They were almost to her grandfather's large estate a little outside of France. He was wealthy, but unhappy since his wife had died. The funeral had been held on one of the dreariest days in March, with the rain pouring down on them as they whispered their goodbyes. It had been just her, her grandpapa, and the priest. They had not wanted any snobby well-wishers or gold diggers there. Her grandmother had been too good for that. Her blue eyes had shone when she was happy, or twinkled with merriment when she was planning a surprise. She gave away money to poor beggar children who had no bread to put in their families mouths. Her grandmother had been a wonderful person. And now she was dead, buried with memories she had kept with her throughout her life. Christina wiped away another rogue tear. She had to pursue her grandmother's past; it was all she could do to keep her alive in her heart.
The Phantom sat at the organ his fingers playing a tune of their own. His mind was elsewhere. How Christina had possessed so much of her grandmother. Christine's light reflected through every pore of the young lady that had stood trembling on the stage. If she did not return he would find her, only to talk to her, only to bring back the memories of his old love. He would not reveal his identity until he was certain of her character. He was almost sure she was not some fainty damsel, her resolve and kindness had shone through. Just like Christine. The name echoed through his empty cavernous heart that had longed for something so long. He played on through the night, without stopping to rest. He needed an answer to his question that had been bothering him for ninety years. He had not grown old; he looked as if he was still twenty nine. He did not feel old, maybe his heart had longed for love for such a long time that it had kept him in that state until he found it, so he could resume growing old. He was the Phantom; maybe the title had been flung on him without care by the person who gave him the burden of looking hideous. He had haunted the Opera House for many long lonely years, and now he was tired. The weariness seemed to press harder every day, his heart was tired of the wait, and so was he.
The Phantom sensed her presence even before she entered his lair only a few short weeks later. He knew she was coming. He beat a spine tingling emotionless sound on his organ. He hoped it would frighten her away. Like Christine, she would rip his mask away and revel what he truly was...a monster, an unfeeling looking demon. Her footsteps echoed on the slightly damp floors as she came closer to where he sat. "Good evening," She whispered.
"Good evening," He echoed. He did not look back, but still played his song on the organ. He finally turned letting the final note of his piece slowly die away. His mask seemed to glow by the candlelight.
"So you have found me at last," "My grandmother never left out any detail about where you took her that night Erik," Christina said firmly, it was true, even though she was blind she could feel her way around using the directions her grandmother had given her.
"Ah...you believe me to be the Phantom,"
"Yes," Christina said. Her grandmother had talked of his eyes, of how they looked like bottomless pools of black acid, bubbling...waiting...to swallow you whole.
"You have found me out; it is I the infamous killer. Are you happy? Now you can reveal to the world that I really am still living,"
"No one knows I have come here," She cringed at his sardonic tone.
"You didn't go and tell your Grandfather?" Laughter erupted from him. "Then you are extremely foolish! What makes you think I won't try to steal you away for myself like I have tried before with Christine?"
"Once he dies... I will have no one else who loves me... it does not matter what happens to me," Christina carefully choose her words. He regarded her with interested.
"No friends to take you in at all?"
"No, my life has been secluded, and quiet,"
"Your eyes are dark, you are blind," He asked just now noticing the clouded way her blue eyes looked. How could he have missed the signs before?
"Yes," She answered. He noticed her cane, and how she leaned on it. It was her protector in a way.
"How did you become so?"
"A horse riding accident when I was twelve," Her voice grew hard.
"Poor child," His voice echoed in the lonely room sending a chill down her spine. His eyes looked her over. "You look just like her," He abruptly changed the subject.
"Many say I do,"
He studied her for a moment. "Let me hear you sing," "W...what?" He caught her off guard. "Oh no, please...I haven't sung since she died...,"
"I have long played after she left me; we can over come our adversities... Sing!" He ordered.
"Play a tune than!" She said defensively. He wasn't going to push her around. He whipped his black cloak around and sat back at the organ. His fingers nimbly played his chosen song. When she did not sing he looked back at her. Her eyes grew wide with recognition.
"Surely your grandmother taught you this? It is what she sang when she betrayed me," The Phantom mocked her. She stood stiffly as if bracing against something unseen. Christina did remember. Her grandparents had sung it to each other on each anniversary. The Phantom's voice rang out cruel and intentionally rough as he sang. She covered her ears, dropping her cane as he twisted the love song, like metal scraping against metal. It was though all the winds in the entire world were blowing...howling... making a horrible storm that wouldn't seem to stop.
No more talk of darkness,
Forget these wide-eyed fears;
I'm here, nothing can harm you,
My words will warm and calm you.
She couldn't bear what he was doing. It was as if all the pain that the Phantom had dealt with over the long endless years was coming out in the form of the song. She was on her knees now tears streaming down her face as he continued, playing on his organ all the while.
Let me be your freedom,
Let daylight dry your tears;
I'm here, with you, beside you,
To guard you and to guide you.
Say you love me every waking moment,
Turn my head with talk of summertime.
Say you need me with you now and always;
Promise me that all you say is true,
That's all I ask of you.
"STOP! Stop it, please!" She cried out. "You'll make me go mad!" She wept. Suddenly the noise subsided, and he was beside her.
"Don't you see child that was what it was like, coming from your grandmother's lips. A betrayal, a knife. There she stood telling...that fool! That she loved him! She did not know what true love was! Young passion burning in that man's heart was not....Love!" He whispered angrily in her ear.
"My grandfather loved my grandmother more than anything; he has shown more love than you have shown in your entire life! Killing does not count ERIK!" She shouted, and turned her face away. He remained silent for a moment. She felt a whoosh of air as if he was going to strike her. He grabbed her wrist instead holding it tightly. What would he do to her? "Please...let me go...I must go," She cried frantically, trying to twist away from him. Her blonde hair lay streaming down her back, it had come loose from the neat bun it had been in only a few minutes before. Her dress was dirty, and ripped in one place. Her eyes...her eyes were what got to him. They were wide and red from crying, a deep blue like the calm sea.
"Leave then, I will not stop you," He looked away he let her arm fall. She scrambled away searching for her cane, when she had found it she ran from him. He heard her slip and fall once, but then he heard no more.
Christina's heart pounded as she searched for the handle to open the ancient door to the deserted street. Daylight warmed her face when she finally got the door opened. Why did she have to be blind? This section of town was rarely used, no one wanted to be by the famous ghost riddled Opera House. Her shoes clacked on the stone street as she leaned on her cane trying desperately to find out where she was. She had a good sense of direction, but in her state of panic she was frantic to find a landmark of some sort. She was out of breath, before she found her carriage and driver who was standing just over the hill and told them to rush home as soon as possible. She could never reveal her secret trip to the old Opera House to her grandpapa; he would lash out in anger. He had told her never to go there. He did not want to lose her like he almost lost his wife, but her grandmother's last dying wish was to know if the Phantom still lived. She knew all of the stories about the Phantom; her grandmother had not left out any details as she described the Opera House as it had once been, and the trip down to the Phantom's lair. The man she had been talking to in the Opera House might have well been the Phantom her grandmother had told her about, it had scared her to be talking to someone connected with her grandmother's past. She had to find out whether it was really the Phantom or not, she felt she would not be complete until she had heard the truth for her Grandmother Christine's sake. The carriage rattled as the wheels bumped over rocks and shook her out of her thoughts. They were almost to her grandfather's large estate a little outside of France. He was wealthy, but unhappy since his wife had died. The funeral had been held on one of the dreariest days in March, with the rain pouring down on them as they whispered their goodbyes. It had been just her, her grandpapa, and the priest. They had not wanted any snobby well-wishers or gold diggers there. Her grandmother had been too good for that. Her blue eyes had shone when she was happy, or twinkled with merriment when she was planning a surprise. She gave away money to poor beggar children who had no bread to put in their families mouths. Her grandmother had been a wonderful person. And now she was dead, buried with memories she had kept with her throughout her life. Christina wiped away another rogue tear. She had to pursue her grandmother's past; it was all she could do to keep her alive in her heart.
The Phantom sat at the organ his fingers playing a tune of their own. His mind was elsewhere. How Christina had possessed so much of her grandmother. Christine's light reflected through every pore of the young lady that had stood trembling on the stage. If she did not return he would find her, only to talk to her, only to bring back the memories of his old love. He would not reveal his identity until he was certain of her character. He was almost sure she was not some fainty damsel, her resolve and kindness had shone through. Just like Christine. The name echoed through his empty cavernous heart that had longed for something so long. He played on through the night, without stopping to rest. He needed an answer to his question that had been bothering him for ninety years. He had not grown old; he looked as if he was still twenty nine. He did not feel old, maybe his heart had longed for love for such a long time that it had kept him in that state until he found it, so he could resume growing old. He was the Phantom; maybe the title had been flung on him without care by the person who gave him the burden of looking hideous. He had haunted the Opera House for many long lonely years, and now he was tired. The weariness seemed to press harder every day, his heart was tired of the wait, and so was he.
The Phantom sensed her presence even before she entered his lair only a few short weeks later. He knew she was coming. He beat a spine tingling emotionless sound on his organ. He hoped it would frighten her away. Like Christine, she would rip his mask away and revel what he truly was...a monster, an unfeeling looking demon. Her footsteps echoed on the slightly damp floors as she came closer to where he sat. "Good evening," She whispered.
"Good evening," He echoed. He did not look back, but still played his song on the organ. He finally turned letting the final note of his piece slowly die away. His mask seemed to glow by the candlelight.
"So you have found me at last," "My grandmother never left out any detail about where you took her that night Erik," Christina said firmly, it was true, even though she was blind she could feel her way around using the directions her grandmother had given her.
"Ah...you believe me to be the Phantom,"
"Yes," Christina said. Her grandmother had talked of his eyes, of how they looked like bottomless pools of black acid, bubbling...waiting...to swallow you whole.
"You have found me out; it is I the infamous killer. Are you happy? Now you can reveal to the world that I really am still living,"
"No one knows I have come here," She cringed at his sardonic tone.
"You didn't go and tell your Grandfather?" Laughter erupted from him. "Then you are extremely foolish! What makes you think I won't try to steal you away for myself like I have tried before with Christine?"
"Once he dies... I will have no one else who loves me... it does not matter what happens to me," Christina carefully choose her words. He regarded her with interested.
"No friends to take you in at all?"
"No, my life has been secluded, and quiet,"
"Your eyes are dark, you are blind," He asked just now noticing the clouded way her blue eyes looked. How could he have missed the signs before?
"Yes," She answered. He noticed her cane, and how she leaned on it. It was her protector in a way.
"How did you become so?"
"A horse riding accident when I was twelve," Her voice grew hard.
"Poor child," His voice echoed in the lonely room sending a chill down her spine. His eyes looked her over. "You look just like her," He abruptly changed the subject.
"Many say I do,"
He studied her for a moment. "Let me hear you sing," "W...what?" He caught her off guard. "Oh no, please...I haven't sung since she died...,"
"I have long played after she left me; we can over come our adversities... Sing!" He ordered.
"Play a tune than!" She said defensively. He wasn't going to push her around. He whipped his black cloak around and sat back at the organ. His fingers nimbly played his chosen song. When she did not sing he looked back at her. Her eyes grew wide with recognition.
"Surely your grandmother taught you this? It is what she sang when she betrayed me," The Phantom mocked her. She stood stiffly as if bracing against something unseen. Christina did remember. Her grandparents had sung it to each other on each anniversary. The Phantom's voice rang out cruel and intentionally rough as he sang. She covered her ears, dropping her cane as he twisted the love song, like metal scraping against metal. It was though all the winds in the entire world were blowing...howling... making a horrible storm that wouldn't seem to stop.
No more talk of darkness,
Forget these wide-eyed fears;
I'm here, nothing can harm you,
My words will warm and calm you.
She couldn't bear what he was doing. It was as if all the pain that the Phantom had dealt with over the long endless years was coming out in the form of the song. She was on her knees now tears streaming down her face as he continued, playing on his organ all the while.
Let me be your freedom,
Let daylight dry your tears;
I'm here, with you, beside you,
To guard you and to guide you.
Say you love me every waking moment,
Turn my head with talk of summertime.
Say you need me with you now and always;
Promise me that all you say is true,
That's all I ask of you.
"STOP! Stop it, please!" She cried out. "You'll make me go mad!" She wept. Suddenly the noise subsided, and he was beside her.
"Don't you see child that was what it was like, coming from your grandmother's lips. A betrayal, a knife. There she stood telling...that fool! That she loved him! She did not know what true love was! Young passion burning in that man's heart was not....Love!" He whispered angrily in her ear.
"My grandfather loved my grandmother more than anything; he has shown more love than you have shown in your entire life! Killing does not count ERIK!" She shouted, and turned her face away. He remained silent for a moment. She felt a whoosh of air as if he was going to strike her. He grabbed her wrist instead holding it tightly. What would he do to her? "Please...let me go...I must go," She cried frantically, trying to twist away from him. Her blonde hair lay streaming down her back, it had come loose from the neat bun it had been in only a few minutes before. Her dress was dirty, and ripped in one place. Her eyes...her eyes were what got to him. They were wide and red from crying, a deep blue like the calm sea.
"Leave then, I will not stop you," He looked away he let her arm fall. She scrambled away searching for her cane, when she had found it she ran from him. He heard her slip and fall once, but then he heard no more.