A/N: Ok someone asked me if I liked Don Juan, forgive me it is late and I've been busy all day and I'm tired, I'm sorry I can't remember who asked me. I absolutely loved the Don Juan scene. It was so passionate, especially "point of no return" song. That is probably my favorite song, oh and I loved the "stranger than you dreamt it" song. Ya'll are going to hate me, but I'm not having them kiss...yet. But you do want the story to be long don't you, because what's the point if I just end it right now? Sorry again...(ducks and avoids being hit by Raoul posters!) Tell me if I'm dragging it out, or if this chapter is awful...your obedient friend and angel (I just find this hilarious, that Erik would say he was obedient! Yeah right!)
Erik stood by an object that was draped with a large piece of cloth. He ripped it away. Dust flew up in great grey clouds around him. He waved it away. His eyes were focused on something behind all the dust. It was a large broken mirror. It looked as dejected as he had once felt. The shards of glass that were still in place were menacing and sharp. He saw his reflection and looked away. He wasn't going to tempt himself. He longed to see if his deformity had changed, but he knew it hadn't. It was a longing that took hold of him in the pit of his dark soul. Had the goblin turned into a prince? He smiled darkly. He hadn't looked at the broken mirror for many years. Not since Christine... He stopped himself. He didn't want to think on it. He took his hand and smoothed it down the gold accents over the top of the mirror.
"Erik," A voice called behind him. He recognized it even before he turned. Christina stood behind him.
"Mon Ange," He greeted trying not to sound startled.
"You must have been in deep thought not to have heard me," She smiled. He nodded and then realized she couldn't see his look of affirmation. So he voiced it instead.
"Yes, I was," He walked towards her and timidly touched her hand, but then withdrew. The feeling of her soft skin against his calloused fingers was too much for him. She was too lovely to be touched. He cursed his previous actions. Touching her hand, kissing her fingertips, or embracing her. His heart was getting the better of him. He couldn't let himself get hurt again.
"How are you Erik?" Her question was so pointed. He stiffened.
"Well," He replied coldly.
"Is that all?" She asked softly.
"Yes," He turned away from her and studied the mirror. "And you?"
"I am well also," She replied using the same cold tone. He almost smiled at her wittiness.
"Come I want to show you something," He reached back, gently grasped her hand, and pulled her towards him. She came willingly. He placed her hand on the gold frame of the mirror.
"It feels lovely," She commented. "What is it?"
"A mirror. The only one I have down here," He said seriously.
"Why?" She asked simply.
"Do you think I wish to see my face every morning?" He snapped. He immediately chided himself. "Forgive me," He said softly
"Where did you get the mirror?" She asked him pretending she had not heard his raised tone. She was startled, though, by the humble apology that had followed.
"It was a gift from a sultan," Erik forced himself not to look into the many shards of the mirror.
"Than the stories are true," She gasped.
"Stories?"
"Surely Erik you must know that by being a man who lives beneath the Opera House...well stories get circulated,"
"Gossip," He nodded.
"Yes. My grandmother did not know much about your past. She told me all she knew, and then some of the legends as well,"
"I was an architect for a sultan once that is true. When I finished his palace he gave me this mirror," His voice grew cold. "I've always sensed that while the sultan was grateful for the job I had done, he hated me for my appearance,"
"You think he gave you the mirror to mock you," Christina said softly.
"That is what it seems," He smiled at her intelligence. He watched as Christina ran her hand into the groves carved into the gold frame.
"The gold is so soft and smooth," She smiled. "It is like silk," He had to turn away. Her beauty was too great for him to bear. He bowed his head slightly. What was he doing? She should not be here with him. He was the beast and she was the beauty. She should go off and get married to a handsome prince. His features weren't going to change. He couldn't let her love him. He couldn't let himself... love her. Suddenly Christina's hand slipped from the frame of the mirror and fell against a sharp shard of glass. He heard a tiny gasp of pain.
"Mon ange?" He turned to see what was amiss. Her face was pale, and her eyes were almost glassy. She was clutching the wounded palm tightly with her other hand. Blood was dripping onto her pale blue dress leaving sickening dark marks on the silk.
"Erik," She whispered. She slowly looked down at her hand and then back up at him. He had only taken two steps toward her when she began crumpled to the ground. He caught her before she hit the hard stone. He cradled her gently in his arms.
"Christina," He whispered softly in her ear. She had fainted. He sank down to the floor with her in his arms. The scent of lavender wafted gently over him. Her curly blonde hair lay over his arms. He softly pushed the curls away and lifted her white hand to inspect the damage. A gash ran crooked down the tender flesh. Blood was flowing rapidly. Why did she always get in these predicaments? He shook his head and looked tenderly down at her. Her lashes lay softly against her pale face, and her pink lips stood out against her white features. The necklace with the ring attached still lay around her neck. It was dirty with constant wear. He smiled. She had loved his gift. It looked as if she hadn't even taken it off to clean it. It went well with all of her dresses, especially this one. The pale blue silk gave a lovely healthy glow to her skin. The sleeves were dripping with lace and tiny diamonds were sewn into the cloth. The bodice was tight as were the styles in Paris, the skirt was so long it touched the tip of her delicate shoes. Such a gentle angel of the light. He shuddered. He was a horrible creature of darkness and never should have touched her in the first place. But he could not leave her there so pitiful and helpless. He would not leave her. Didn't that count for something? Wouldn't anyone see he was trying to do something good? The blood from her hand caught his eye once more. It had splattered on the stones, making gruesome little puddles in the cracks of the rocks. He eased her from his arms and rested her head on the dusty cloth from the mirror. He looked around for a clean strip of cloth. The pristine white sheets from his own bed caught his eye. He strode over and ripped a small piece of cloth from it. He returned to her and gently wrapped the small palm in the white cloth.
"Oh Erik," She murmured. Her head turned. He looked down at her.
"I'm here Mon Ange," He whispered. He finished wrapping the cloth around the wound. Hopefully it would stop the bleeding.
"I feel so foolish," She said wetting her dry lips. She winced as she tried to move her fingers.
"You could not help what happened,"
"Why were you not there?" She asked weakly. As soon as she had spoken those words she wished she could have taken them back.
"I'm sorry...I turned away for an instant," Erik said feeling tormented by helpless feelings. "Forgive me," How could have not been there to save her from pain?
"I shouldn't have said that," She whispered. He took her good hand in his.
"If only all things could be erased so easily," He said. She tilted her head.
"Do you wish you could change the past," She said without thinking. What a foolish question. Of course he did!
"Yes," Erik said softly. He gazed longingly at her mouth which moved with such grace when she spoke. Oh how wicked and sweet it would have been to steal a kiss at the moment. But what of Christina's feelings? He helped her sit up against the wall. She seemed to breathe easier. He looked lovingly down at her golden curls and sweet blind eyes. "Go home, Ange. A doctor should look at your hand,"
"But Erik," She protested. She longed to be with him. Why did their meetings always get cut short?
"I am no physician, child. Please, go home," He urged.
"I will do as you ask," She said compliantly. He helped her up from the floor gently.
"Visit me when you are well,"
"I will," She promised. She gazed up at where she thought his face was for several moments. "Erik, I...," She began. He placed a finger over her lips.
"Later, Mon Ange," He led her up to the surface, and stayed in the shadows of the creeping twilight watching her go.
"Later..." He repeated to her retreating form. He watched as the driver got out and helped her into the carriage. How many times, he wondered, would he long for her tonight? It would be countless times. Countless as the stars up above them. He smiled. She was his little Ange of Ciel, angel of heaven...
Erik stood by an object that was draped with a large piece of cloth. He ripped it away. Dust flew up in great grey clouds around him. He waved it away. His eyes were focused on something behind all the dust. It was a large broken mirror. It looked as dejected as he had once felt. The shards of glass that were still in place were menacing and sharp. He saw his reflection and looked away. He wasn't going to tempt himself. He longed to see if his deformity had changed, but he knew it hadn't. It was a longing that took hold of him in the pit of his dark soul. Had the goblin turned into a prince? He smiled darkly. He hadn't looked at the broken mirror for many years. Not since Christine... He stopped himself. He didn't want to think on it. He took his hand and smoothed it down the gold accents over the top of the mirror.
"Erik," A voice called behind him. He recognized it even before he turned. Christina stood behind him.
"Mon Ange," He greeted trying not to sound startled.
"You must have been in deep thought not to have heard me," She smiled. He nodded and then realized she couldn't see his look of affirmation. So he voiced it instead.
"Yes, I was," He walked towards her and timidly touched her hand, but then withdrew. The feeling of her soft skin against his calloused fingers was too much for him. She was too lovely to be touched. He cursed his previous actions. Touching her hand, kissing her fingertips, or embracing her. His heart was getting the better of him. He couldn't let himself get hurt again.
"How are you Erik?" Her question was so pointed. He stiffened.
"Well," He replied coldly.
"Is that all?" She asked softly.
"Yes," He turned away from her and studied the mirror. "And you?"
"I am well also," She replied using the same cold tone. He almost smiled at her wittiness.
"Come I want to show you something," He reached back, gently grasped her hand, and pulled her towards him. She came willingly. He placed her hand on the gold frame of the mirror.
"It feels lovely," She commented. "What is it?"
"A mirror. The only one I have down here," He said seriously.
"Why?" She asked simply.
"Do you think I wish to see my face every morning?" He snapped. He immediately chided himself. "Forgive me," He said softly
"Where did you get the mirror?" She asked him pretending she had not heard his raised tone. She was startled, though, by the humble apology that had followed.
"It was a gift from a sultan," Erik forced himself not to look into the many shards of the mirror.
"Than the stories are true," She gasped.
"Stories?"
"Surely Erik you must know that by being a man who lives beneath the Opera House...well stories get circulated,"
"Gossip," He nodded.
"Yes. My grandmother did not know much about your past. She told me all she knew, and then some of the legends as well,"
"I was an architect for a sultan once that is true. When I finished his palace he gave me this mirror," His voice grew cold. "I've always sensed that while the sultan was grateful for the job I had done, he hated me for my appearance,"
"You think he gave you the mirror to mock you," Christina said softly.
"That is what it seems," He smiled at her intelligence. He watched as Christina ran her hand into the groves carved into the gold frame.
"The gold is so soft and smooth," She smiled. "It is like silk," He had to turn away. Her beauty was too great for him to bear. He bowed his head slightly. What was he doing? She should not be here with him. He was the beast and she was the beauty. She should go off and get married to a handsome prince. His features weren't going to change. He couldn't let her love him. He couldn't let himself... love her. Suddenly Christina's hand slipped from the frame of the mirror and fell against a sharp shard of glass. He heard a tiny gasp of pain.
"Mon ange?" He turned to see what was amiss. Her face was pale, and her eyes were almost glassy. She was clutching the wounded palm tightly with her other hand. Blood was dripping onto her pale blue dress leaving sickening dark marks on the silk.
"Erik," She whispered. She slowly looked down at her hand and then back up at him. He had only taken two steps toward her when she began crumpled to the ground. He caught her before she hit the hard stone. He cradled her gently in his arms.
"Christina," He whispered softly in her ear. She had fainted. He sank down to the floor with her in his arms. The scent of lavender wafted gently over him. Her curly blonde hair lay over his arms. He softly pushed the curls away and lifted her white hand to inspect the damage. A gash ran crooked down the tender flesh. Blood was flowing rapidly. Why did she always get in these predicaments? He shook his head and looked tenderly down at her. Her lashes lay softly against her pale face, and her pink lips stood out against her white features. The necklace with the ring attached still lay around her neck. It was dirty with constant wear. He smiled. She had loved his gift. It looked as if she hadn't even taken it off to clean it. It went well with all of her dresses, especially this one. The pale blue silk gave a lovely healthy glow to her skin. The sleeves were dripping with lace and tiny diamonds were sewn into the cloth. The bodice was tight as were the styles in Paris, the skirt was so long it touched the tip of her delicate shoes. Such a gentle angel of the light. He shuddered. He was a horrible creature of darkness and never should have touched her in the first place. But he could not leave her there so pitiful and helpless. He would not leave her. Didn't that count for something? Wouldn't anyone see he was trying to do something good? The blood from her hand caught his eye once more. It had splattered on the stones, making gruesome little puddles in the cracks of the rocks. He eased her from his arms and rested her head on the dusty cloth from the mirror. He looked around for a clean strip of cloth. The pristine white sheets from his own bed caught his eye. He strode over and ripped a small piece of cloth from it. He returned to her and gently wrapped the small palm in the white cloth.
"Oh Erik," She murmured. Her head turned. He looked down at her.
"I'm here Mon Ange," He whispered. He finished wrapping the cloth around the wound. Hopefully it would stop the bleeding.
"I feel so foolish," She said wetting her dry lips. She winced as she tried to move her fingers.
"You could not help what happened,"
"Why were you not there?" She asked weakly. As soon as she had spoken those words she wished she could have taken them back.
"I'm sorry...I turned away for an instant," Erik said feeling tormented by helpless feelings. "Forgive me," How could have not been there to save her from pain?
"I shouldn't have said that," She whispered. He took her good hand in his.
"If only all things could be erased so easily," He said. She tilted her head.
"Do you wish you could change the past," She said without thinking. What a foolish question. Of course he did!
"Yes," Erik said softly. He gazed longingly at her mouth which moved with such grace when she spoke. Oh how wicked and sweet it would have been to steal a kiss at the moment. But what of Christina's feelings? He helped her sit up against the wall. She seemed to breathe easier. He looked lovingly down at her golden curls and sweet blind eyes. "Go home, Ange. A doctor should look at your hand,"
"But Erik," She protested. She longed to be with him. Why did their meetings always get cut short?
"I am no physician, child. Please, go home," He urged.
"I will do as you ask," She said compliantly. He helped her up from the floor gently.
"Visit me when you are well,"
"I will," She promised. She gazed up at where she thought his face was for several moments. "Erik, I...," She began. He placed a finger over her lips.
"Later, Mon Ange," He led her up to the surface, and stayed in the shadows of the creeping twilight watching her go.
"Later..." He repeated to her retreating form. He watched as the driver got out and helped her into the carriage. How many times, he wondered, would he long for her tonight? It would be countless times. Countless as the stars up above them. He smiled. She was his little Ange of Ciel, angel of heaven...