Chapter Eight;
Remembrance and Confession
A/N: That title was un-witty, I bet you're very disappointed, ah well. For the benefit of Jess; Meg is referring to when she and her mother called on Raoul and he wouldn't see them. We're assuming he just told his servants to say Christine was dead or something to that effect. I dunno, I did that on a whim. Has anyone noticed my lack of disclaimer? I don't have one because Erik is mine! MINE!!!! Anyone who wants Raoul; he's free. Really, come and take him away. Jks.
Some time had passed idly and Meg and Christine lapsed into silence until the young dancer felt compelled to quiet her curiosity, absently interrupting Christine's thoughts,
"What exactly did happen when you found out Erik was alive? I mean, how did you find out?" Christine's gaze flickered over her friend and her eyes became distant with thought, the memory obviously still vivid in her mind.
"To explain that I have to tell you about what preceded it… When I went back to Raoul thinking Erik was dead…" she leaned forward in her chair, silently asking her friend if she should relate the tale.
"Go on." Meg said, gesturing for her to begin.
And quietly, with a great well of unspoken, untapped emotion Christine began to speak. Her voice scarcely more than a whisper as though the events were playing before her eyes in that very room and a louder narration would shatter them and scatter the pieces forever beyond reach.
"I know what Raoul was thinking, it's almost as if now, looking back, I can see through his eyes…
"I'm dead inside!" Christine screamed through her tears, "And you'll never understand!"
"Christine, listen, I do-."
"No you don't! You never will!" she collapsed into sobbing for a moment until she had rallied her fading strength again. "I don't love you, I never have." She rocked herself, hugging her knees to her chest, "I love him." She whispered over and over, quietly in an attitude of prayer. "I can't love you." She turned her tear-streaked face back to me.
"Christine, don't say that."
"But it's true!" she broke down again, not really able or willing to speak.
"He's gone Christine, and he's not going to come back. Not ever, no matter how much you think you want him too."
"Think? Think, Raoul?"
"You don't love him Christine, you can't. If he were here now you'd beg me to take you away again."
"Are you so blind?" She stood thrusting my hand off her arm violently, "You don't know what love is!" she turned away from me disgusted, "Are you even capable of love?" she muttered darkly under her breath.
"I love you." She sneered.
"You don't understand me Raoul, you haven't since we were ten years old! And if you think that loving someone is dominating them you're worse off then we thought."
"We? You talked about me, with- with that- that monster!" she spun to face me, her eyes ablaze. I was in a dark rage then, I no longer felt like I knew Raoul's thoughts… It's queer, after he said that I, remembering, feel I don't know him at all…
That foppish moron enraged me more with each passing second, he was so lucky Erik wasn't… He'd long since taken his life into his own hands.
"Monster?" I repeated with unnerving calm, "This 'monster' has the most beautiful soul that God ever created."
"A soul? Him? He was filled with nothing but darkness, if he was filled with anything at all."
"Speaking of empty," I moved toward him, threat in every step, "is that not the inquiry we started with? Well? The reason I am 'detached' Raoul is the very best part of me, as you say, is gone. My soul has left me because he was my soul." Anger flashed behind his eyes.
"It's impossible, you don't love him, you can't!"
"It's remarkably easy really, and impossible is not a word to be thrown around so lightly." He snorted,
"You think you frighten me with your word games! Singing is not all he taught you I see!"
"No… He taught me love." I nodded at his look of horror, "Yes that means exactly what you think." Smiling in a thoroughly devilish manner I continued knowingly hurting him, "You see, it was the only way I could get him to believe me! You can't imagine how hard it is to prove to that man that I had finally learned what true love is. That I had finally grown up." Raoul slumped into a chair.
"He was insane Christine! You're insane!" he held his head in his hands, his curly golden locks falling over his fingers, "This isn't happening." Then I did something I never thought I'd do; I laughed, outright, at someone else's pain and anguish. "You think it's funny that I am reduced to this?" I mocked disapproval at him,
"I have reduced far greater men to far less Raoul. I am surprised at you, with all your noble dignity! No passionate plea, no last lover's request?"
"There is no need for such dramatics, you cannot go to him, there is no where for you but here with me." He single-handedly brought me full circle to my previous state of grievous shock.
I had never mourned so for anyone; my pain even over my father's death was pleasant in comparison to the excruciating torture, agony and oblivion of blackness that dwelt in my heart now.
Sorrow would be a reigning queen over my brow for the remnants of my life, which, if God has any mercy, will not be too terribly long. How I have lived a second without my soul eludes me; life is nothing without my light, my joy, my Angel.
"It doesn't change anything, I will still love him, and I will never share a bed with you."
"But you will marry me." I heaved a sigh, deciding this lack of feeling, being a non-entity was preferable to even attempting to live.
"For appearances sake, but remember, there will be no love in it and I will omit that from my vow."
"But we'll still be married."
"For the sake of him you once were my friend, yes, and we will forget this rude clashing of tongues and be civil to one another. Hopefully I can still be your friend, think of me as your sister because you are my brother." He looked on me silently, a war-taking place in his demanding green eyes.
Finally, he must have decided that having me that way was better than not having me at all.
"Then I bid thee goodnight, my dear sister, for tomorrow I will begin arrangements for our wedding." I nodded as he rose to leave the room,
"Raoul?" he paused, "I'm sorry." He ascended to his room.
The days until the wedding seemed to fly by. All too soon I was staring at my reflection in a fancy mirrored vanity, the veil I wore folded back from my face in wait for the ceremony. The gown I wore was not nearly so beautiful or so flattering as the one… I mustn't think of that, I will only weep…
Yet this tiny thing reveals to me once again that Erik understood me far more then Raoul ever could, even when we were children, he always thought I wanted frills, ruffles and lace… Wanted to be fussed over and babied. He never seemed to realize that one didn't have to be wearing one's fortune to look stunning. No simplicity is far lovelier…
My reflection looked back at me lifelessly, it was good the veil was thick; anyone who saw me would feel obligated to check for a pulse.
"I know what you meant about mirrors now." I sighed to the exceedingly empty room, drawing my heavy veil down to mask my features. "I wear a mask too, I will from this day forth, the mask of someone living over a soulless husk. I love you, my Angel, forgive me…" I hadn't noticed my hand reaching out to caress the mirror until my fingertips touched the cold surface.
The tears were already falling now, I wasn't going to fool anyone today, but I could no longer bring myself to care what they thought.
A soft knock told me that my fate was sealed; my funeral march would soon begin.
Walking down the aisle was how I used to dream it as a little girl. I was only louder in my grief when I tried to hold back my tears, so I let them flow freely until they became a crescendo of insurmountable sorrow in the silent church.
It was beautiful here, I could tell, the church was an old one, vast and lavishly decorated with stain glass and carving. Great marble pillars supporting a stone terrace, presumably for persons of high office in the church when they visited. All was lost on me as I took my place at the altar, facing Raoul but seeing nothing but a blur. And only that because of the bright afternoon sunlight flooding his face in multicoloured rays through a window depicting The Christ as Prince of Heaven, without being able to read it I knew the words painted beneath the figure; 'I am the way, the truth and the light.' Help me now Lord, when I am so badly in need of your guidance. I thought. Seeing the image of the dove below it in my minds eye.
Had I been looking I would have seen a shadow slide down one of those elegant marble pillars from the terrace.
In a voice so broken with sorrow it was hardly audible I made my vow,
"Wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband, to live together according to God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love him, comfort him, honor, and keep him, in sickness and in health; and forsaking all other, keep only unto him, so long as you both shall live?"
"I will take this man to be my husband in name only, to honor, keep, and respect him. But that is all that is my vow." There were shocked gasps issuing from every corner of the church but I cared not, I wasn't going to lie in the house of God.
The priest, clearing his throat, continued after a glare from Raoul told him that these conditions had been agreed upon.
"Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?"
"God does." There being no one there to give me away, this was the only response that could be acceptable. The Priest took Raoul's hand and my right hand and caused us too join them, Raoul saying,
"I Raoul de Chagny take thee Christine Daae to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth." If I were being proper, which I wasn't, I should have repeated the same to him. As it was, I said little,
"As I Christine Daae take thee Raoul de Chagny to be my wedded husband till death do us part." I breathed out heavily as I finished, praying again for some sort of miracle to stop this madness! Then the Priest asked for the last time,
"I publish the Bans of Marriage between Christine and Raoul. If any of you know cause or just impediment, why these two persons should not be joined together in holy Matrimony, ye are to declare it. This is the final time of asking."
"I do." There was the noise of every single person in the place turning in their seats to face the speaker; a tall, lean shadow standing at the end of the aisle, I closed my eyes in disbelieving ecstasy at the sound of his voice.
"What reason sir?" the priest implored,
"She cannot marry him because she's in love with me." There were now gasps of outrage at the forwardness of this impertinent intruder. He seemed amused at the reactions all around him; "Is that not so, Mademoiselle?" he asked smugly, assured of the answer.
I said nothing; I chucked my bouquet to the side and ripped my veil from my hair, hiking up my abundant skirts as I ran up the aisle. I collided with him, moaning in happiness as he lifted me up so I could kiss him.
I instantly locked my lips over his, pushing his hat off I ran my hand through his hair, loving the soft touch. He caught the hat as it tumbled down his back and plunked it on my head with a grin. Pulling him closer to me, I couldn't care in the slightest, as far as I was concerned the universe consisted of nothing but him.
After an eternity of ecstasy in the warmth of his presence he put me down and broke the kiss forcefully as I refuse to let him go.
"You're alive!" I cried embracing him, nestling my face between the folds of his cloak, wanting desperately to feel the warmth of his body against my skin, wanting to know he was real. "I could do anything now, anything you bid me do." I looked up at his glittering mismatched eyes; "I love you." My wish was granted as I felt his arms around me. I was safe and content for the first time in weeks.
"Is that a valid objection?" Raoul suddenly inquired of the priest.
"If the young lady loves the gentleman she certainly cannot make a holy bond with someone else." The young man offered helplessly.
Resting my now glowing face against the prominent muscles of Erik's chest, I turned my head to sneak a glance at the guests, their eyes were like goose eggs! I'd never seen such a stare! I'd rather regretted your not being there Meg, after all you are the one that 'introduced' me to my beloved Phantom, and I think you would have been the most shocked of them all. I can see it!
"Come now Meg! Is it really so hard to believe? Besides think of the stories you'll tell, I can hear you now; 'My best friend is married to the Phantom of the opera, himself!' Hah!" I'd said that to Erik,
"Married?" Erik asked politely, teasing me.
"That's what I said, and if you don't like it you'll have to deal with it 'cause no one's stopping me. Um, with that I will kiss thee."
"Now you must go about it neater than that, wait, else I shall remain unkissed." His eyes invited me to retaliate playfully,
"You'll not escape from me unkissed, I promise you!" I pulled him down into my reach and put a swift end to any protest he might have made.
Erik pulled away from me, gasping for air and, catching his breath, inclined the priest,
"Father, it seems we are still in need of your services, there is going to be a wedding today!" we acted like giddy schoolchildren, almost squealing in delight later that night after our countciltation as we were pronounced man and wife. Angel and mortal, Phantom and innocent, teacher and pupil, most importantly; love and beauty.
Raoul had approached his brother with a sigh; bidding him to tell his betrothed that the wedding was back on again and in a month. But think not on him, think of me, whole again and happy."
Meg sat back in her chair, a contemplative look on her face amid an outraged sort of smile,
"My God Christine! That is the most romantic thing I've ever heard! …Honestly." She started suddenly, "Can I meet him now?"
"I rather think that I should discuss it with him first." Christine replied with a hint of laughter on her voice,
"Will he say no?" Meg asked, nervous,
"Oh nothing like that, I just think he ought to know we're coming! Really Meg, your manners have gotten appalling these years I've been away." Meg glanced up at her, a grin splitting her face,
"You haven't been away!"
"Touché."
* * *
Late that night Mme Giry sat writing a letter by the dim light of a single candle, not wanting to rouse her daughter and have to explain herself. Even as she wrote it, she questioned every word and what it gave away.
"I hope I make the right decision…" she rubbed her temples, laying down the pen to rest her sore hand. Still, it felt good to tell someone, even if she ended up burning this letter, it felt good.
* * *
"Hurry up Meg!" Christine called gaily as the pair ran through the labyrinthine passages beneath the opera.