A/N: Thank-you for all the reviews! Keep them coming, I need the
constructive criticism. When I originally wrote this story it was for a
friend, so I couldn't add the detail I wanted because I had to give it to
her five days after I began writing. So now I'm going back and adding some
stuff I have thought of after I gave it to her....confusing, but anyways
ya'll get to read it so that's good.
Raoul fingered the pages of Christine's favorite book of poems. It had yellowed with age. He had grown older, too. His black hair had turned from grey to white. His beard was still resistant to growing older and had small hairs of grey buried beneath the white. His eyesight was failing him. Now he knew how helpless Christina felt with her blindness. He glanced over the words from the poem, already knowing them by heart. Christina entered the darkened room. The heavy curtains had been drawn shut.
"Grandpapa," She said in a whispered tone.
"Yes, my dear," He closed the book carefully. He sat up slightly in the massive bed. The light from candles sitting on tables and shelves burned brightly enough to light the words of the book he was reading.
"I came to say goodnight," Her tone seemed distant. Her eyes even though blind still looked as if she was in deep thought.
"Goodnight my granddaughter," He said gently.
"Sleep well," She returned the greeting.
"Is something troubling you?" He asked finally when she stayed in the room.
"No," She lied. She still even now days after felt the cold hands of the Phantom around her wrist. It seemed as though he had burned his memory into her flesh. He had left no marks, but only mental anguish.
"Go to sleep dear," He urged. "You look tired,"
"I will," She smiled.
Christina turned over in bed. Her eyes opened, but all she saw was darkness. Darkness was her world; it had always been her world since the accident. She felt around for her dressing gown, and pulled it on. The clock chimed its deep sound tolling the hour. It was almost dawn. She found her favorite chair by the large window in her bedroom, and sat down. She kept having dreams. Dreams about him...about Erik. They awoke her at all times of the night. She sighed heavily. Her grandpapa's health was leaving him. He would die, and then she would be all alone. The only place she could go to get away from the wealth and the upper class depression was to the depths of the Opera House with Erik. His act of letting her go sincerely surprised her. She thought he would imprison her forever because of her rash remarks. And now she wished she could get close to him somehow. Maybe in all the years he lived there he had grown to enjoy being alone. She shuddered. Alone was a scary place to be.
A cold draft had entered the dark room where Erik sat at his organ. Another leak had probably found a crack in the roof of the Opera House. He had not composed a song in many years, not since Christine. The music had left his soul. All was quiet. Where there once had been flame of passion for music was until now, nothing...nothing, but insane notes blasting from his only instrument. Ever since he'd met Christina the granddaughter of his original love, an idea had gnawed at him in back of his mind. An idea to compose. His fingers settled on the keys, and with new resolve he began to play.
Christina rose for breakfast out of her chair the next morning, where she had sat unmoving for hours. She had another rough night. Life would go on without her, so she must run and catch up to it. She could not dread the future. If her grandpapa died, she would move on. She sat in a chair at the breakfast table with the gentle help of an old servant. He couldn't believe how beautiful a picture Christina made. Why wasn't she married yet? Her long blonde hair had been brushed of its tangles and was in a braid down her back. She still wore her silky white dressing gown, one she had inherited from her grandmother, it was very old. It smelled of the French perfume that her grandmother had gotten on her birthday one year.
"Miss!" The doctor who had tended to her grandpapa during his illness entered the dining hall. "Your grandfather, he is requesting you," The doctor's face looked grave. Christina's heart leapt up in her throat. Not now! Please not now!
"Grandpapa," She gasped as she rushed into the room.
"My child," He greeted slowly, his strength was being sapped from him.
"Sleep now, please rest. Save your strength,"
"I'm sorry I must leave you...now,"
"You're not going anywhere," She said strongly, gripping his hand.
"Why are the relatives of the dying always in denial?" Raoul questioned a smile playing slowly on his lips.
"Because they are not willing to let them go, and neither am I," She whispered, a tear coursing down her cheek. He wiped it away.
"I love you Christina. I am sorry I cannot leave you in the care of someone," He frowned.
"I will manage," She smiled sadly.
"I won't be happy without you in this big manor, alone,"
"Christina," He grasped her hand. "My dear, be well, and find someone to love. Life isn't worth anything without love,"
"I think I have found it, grandpapa," She said, surprising even herself.
"Is he honorable?" Her grandfather raised his eyebrows.
"He will be," She smiled softly.
"A woman can change a man's heart," Her grandfather brushed her cheek with his hand. "My dear, I'll feel so...tired," He whispered.
"Rest then," She smiled. "Or shall I read to you, you loved that book of poems Grandmamma gave you for your birthday last year,"
"No...just sit with me," He held her hand. "You're more than enough,"
"Oh," She sighed. She sat quietly for a moment. "Grandpapa...I have a question to ask you,"
"Yes my child,"
"About the Phantom, why do you hate him so?"
"Have I communicated that to you?" He asked his eyes full of pain.
"Why no...but I assumed...all the stories Grandmamma told me,"
"It is not true. I do not hate him. I pity him,"
"Pity?"
"Erik has known nothing, but sorrow his entire life. He has lost his family, been shown as a monster at a circus, and been rejected by everyone he's known. A man can take only so much. That does not excuse his actions my dear," He said wisely.
"I understand," She nodded.
"I am glad; you are wise for your age, my darling," His steel blue eyes flashed with resistance. He couldn't leave his granddaughter alone, but death and Christine was calling him home.
"I love you," Christina whispered sensing the end.
"As do I my sweet girl," They gazed at each other, Raoul was satisfied he had said enough to keep Christina content without him after he was gone; he spoke no more for a long while. "Goodbye Christina," He finally whispered. She grabbed his hand a clasped it to her heart.
"No grandpapa, no!" She cried. Tears slipped down her face unchecked. He squeezed her hand tightly, and then she felt his hand slowly relax. He had given in. His last breath had been hard-won. His eyes closed. She sobbed and laid her head into his chest. "Grandpapa!" She cried. The servants and the doctor retreated into another part of the manor. They could hear her gut wrenching sobs; each realized her pain as if it was their own. Their mistress was alone.
Erik suddenly had an overwhelming feeling. Like a star had fallen from the sky. He stopped playing for a moment. The feeling settled in his heart. Something had happened. What? He searched his mind. Something had gone terribly wrong.
Raoul fingered the pages of Christine's favorite book of poems. It had yellowed with age. He had grown older, too. His black hair had turned from grey to white. His beard was still resistant to growing older and had small hairs of grey buried beneath the white. His eyesight was failing him. Now he knew how helpless Christina felt with her blindness. He glanced over the words from the poem, already knowing them by heart. Christina entered the darkened room. The heavy curtains had been drawn shut.
"Grandpapa," She said in a whispered tone.
"Yes, my dear," He closed the book carefully. He sat up slightly in the massive bed. The light from candles sitting on tables and shelves burned brightly enough to light the words of the book he was reading.
"I came to say goodnight," Her tone seemed distant. Her eyes even though blind still looked as if she was in deep thought.
"Goodnight my granddaughter," He said gently.
"Sleep well," She returned the greeting.
"Is something troubling you?" He asked finally when she stayed in the room.
"No," She lied. She still even now days after felt the cold hands of the Phantom around her wrist. It seemed as though he had burned his memory into her flesh. He had left no marks, but only mental anguish.
"Go to sleep dear," He urged. "You look tired,"
"I will," She smiled.
Christina turned over in bed. Her eyes opened, but all she saw was darkness. Darkness was her world; it had always been her world since the accident. She felt around for her dressing gown, and pulled it on. The clock chimed its deep sound tolling the hour. It was almost dawn. She found her favorite chair by the large window in her bedroom, and sat down. She kept having dreams. Dreams about him...about Erik. They awoke her at all times of the night. She sighed heavily. Her grandpapa's health was leaving him. He would die, and then she would be all alone. The only place she could go to get away from the wealth and the upper class depression was to the depths of the Opera House with Erik. His act of letting her go sincerely surprised her. She thought he would imprison her forever because of her rash remarks. And now she wished she could get close to him somehow. Maybe in all the years he lived there he had grown to enjoy being alone. She shuddered. Alone was a scary place to be.
A cold draft had entered the dark room where Erik sat at his organ. Another leak had probably found a crack in the roof of the Opera House. He had not composed a song in many years, not since Christine. The music had left his soul. All was quiet. Where there once had been flame of passion for music was until now, nothing...nothing, but insane notes blasting from his only instrument. Ever since he'd met Christina the granddaughter of his original love, an idea had gnawed at him in back of his mind. An idea to compose. His fingers settled on the keys, and with new resolve he began to play.
Christina rose for breakfast out of her chair the next morning, where she had sat unmoving for hours. She had another rough night. Life would go on without her, so she must run and catch up to it. She could not dread the future. If her grandpapa died, she would move on. She sat in a chair at the breakfast table with the gentle help of an old servant. He couldn't believe how beautiful a picture Christina made. Why wasn't she married yet? Her long blonde hair had been brushed of its tangles and was in a braid down her back. She still wore her silky white dressing gown, one she had inherited from her grandmother, it was very old. It smelled of the French perfume that her grandmother had gotten on her birthday one year.
"Miss!" The doctor who had tended to her grandpapa during his illness entered the dining hall. "Your grandfather, he is requesting you," The doctor's face looked grave. Christina's heart leapt up in her throat. Not now! Please not now!
"Grandpapa," She gasped as she rushed into the room.
"My child," He greeted slowly, his strength was being sapped from him.
"Sleep now, please rest. Save your strength,"
"I'm sorry I must leave you...now,"
"You're not going anywhere," She said strongly, gripping his hand.
"Why are the relatives of the dying always in denial?" Raoul questioned a smile playing slowly on his lips.
"Because they are not willing to let them go, and neither am I," She whispered, a tear coursing down her cheek. He wiped it away.
"I love you Christina. I am sorry I cannot leave you in the care of someone," He frowned.
"I will manage," She smiled sadly.
"I won't be happy without you in this big manor, alone,"
"Christina," He grasped her hand. "My dear, be well, and find someone to love. Life isn't worth anything without love,"
"I think I have found it, grandpapa," She said, surprising even herself.
"Is he honorable?" Her grandfather raised his eyebrows.
"He will be," She smiled softly.
"A woman can change a man's heart," Her grandfather brushed her cheek with his hand. "My dear, I'll feel so...tired," He whispered.
"Rest then," She smiled. "Or shall I read to you, you loved that book of poems Grandmamma gave you for your birthday last year,"
"No...just sit with me," He held her hand. "You're more than enough,"
"Oh," She sighed. She sat quietly for a moment. "Grandpapa...I have a question to ask you,"
"Yes my child,"
"About the Phantom, why do you hate him so?"
"Have I communicated that to you?" He asked his eyes full of pain.
"Why no...but I assumed...all the stories Grandmamma told me,"
"It is not true. I do not hate him. I pity him,"
"Pity?"
"Erik has known nothing, but sorrow his entire life. He has lost his family, been shown as a monster at a circus, and been rejected by everyone he's known. A man can take only so much. That does not excuse his actions my dear," He said wisely.
"I understand," She nodded.
"I am glad; you are wise for your age, my darling," His steel blue eyes flashed with resistance. He couldn't leave his granddaughter alone, but death and Christine was calling him home.
"I love you," Christina whispered sensing the end.
"As do I my sweet girl," They gazed at each other, Raoul was satisfied he had said enough to keep Christina content without him after he was gone; he spoke no more for a long while. "Goodbye Christina," He finally whispered. She grabbed his hand a clasped it to her heart.
"No grandpapa, no!" She cried. Tears slipped down her face unchecked. He squeezed her hand tightly, and then she felt his hand slowly relax. He had given in. His last breath had been hard-won. His eyes closed. She sobbed and laid her head into his chest. "Grandpapa!" She cried. The servants and the doctor retreated into another part of the manor. They could hear her gut wrenching sobs; each realized her pain as if it was their own. Their mistress was alone.
Erik suddenly had an overwhelming feeling. Like a star had fallen from the sky. He stopped playing for a moment. The feeling settled in his heart. Something had happened. What? He searched his mind. Something had gone terribly wrong.