All That the Phantom Asked of You!
By: Lemony Apple
AN: And so it ends. From that little one shot to this three chaptered story about how crazy, yet strangely HOT (well, in my opinion anyway.) Erik, O.G. Extraordinaire, is. Sad that I have to end it!
I also liked writing this chapter, because I like characters that are obsessed with italics, which Erik seems to be in this chapter. How fun!
I would like to point out that this chapter is nothing but spoilers. If you haven't seen the movie/musical/whatever and want to be surprised at the ending, for goodness sakes don't go farther than this period.
Oh, are you still here? Yay! Well then, before I start: I'm moving the chandelier drop here, because I, like Schumacher, believe that it's better (dramatically, but the lyrics in the original version are much better in the original Stage P. This means that the lyrics in this chapter are the ORIGINAL LYRICS. None of this namby-pamby 'We had such hopes and now these hopes are shattered' Please.) placed after Point of No Return. (Shocking, I know!)
So please don't say that I misplaced it, 'cause it was, indeed, intentional. Gracias! Now my off topic rant is finished (aren't you happy?). :)
And now…
Chapter Tres: Track Down this Murderer
People were screaming, and running away from the stage. Erik was exposed, to everyone. By the person that he so wished would forget what was under the mask. Of all people, he was most deluded in her beauty and her 'soul'. She had no soul! The minx! How could he be so deluded? HOW?
He had to do it. He had to. Erik grabbed the sword that was resting in the scabbard on his hip, and cut the rope, the rope that was the only thing holding the chandelier to the ceiling. It descended like God's fury, ripping out plaster and wood and showering the 'the crème de la crème' with dust, splinters of wood, and random nails. Erik gave a low laugh at their panic, the laugh that someone gives when bitter and betrayed.
The police were trying to get people out of the theatre, but they were not in time, the chandelier descended and crushed all in its path.
Erik then picked up a shocked Christine, the bait; he stomped on a trapdoor switch he himself installed a long time ago. They dropped into the tunnels of the Opera Populaire, his ankles painfully absorbing both Christine and his weight. He set the woman down, and grabbed her arm, harshly. She cried out, but he did not relent.
He pulled her along to his Hell, the lair in which he lived. He shouted, trying to siphon off a bit of his frustration- frustration was not a strong enough word for it. Vehemence was a bit more like it. "Down once more to the dungeon of my black despair! Down we plunge to the prison of my mind! Down that path into darkness deep as HELL!"
Christine sobbed, not bothering to disguise her hate for him. The time when he would have cried about her love had died a long time ago. He was not the same man any longer. That Erik had died in his opera, Don Juan Triumphant! And like his Don Juan, he would also be triumphant, in exacting his revenge on this… this harpy couple.
Suddenly he turned around, and yelled in her face. He needed to make her understand. That strange, loving Erik was still within him, hiding somewhere.
"Why, you ask, was I bound and chained in this cold and dismal place? Not for any mortal sin, but the wickedness of my abhorrent FACE!" He pointed to his… failing, his hatred of himself that shone through his mind and onto his skin. He shook her arm, hard. Her tiny body moved with her arm. She was still sobbing, but whether or not it was for him, or for her fate, he did not know.
Within the pipes in the stone wall he heard a mob forming, calling him a murderer and swearing revenge for that stupid fop tenor and Buquet. They were going to kill him. Erik pulled Christine along the tunnels, determined not to die until he finished what he needed to do.
"Hounded out by everyone! Met with hatred everywhere! No kind word from anyone! No compassion anywhere! Christine, Christine ..." He had to stop for a second. He turned around. He would not cry. He would not cry! He would not show weakness! "Why? Why?!" He shook her again. She did not speak.
Finally they arrived at his Hell hole. He pushed her inside and closed the portcullis behind them. It was not too late for the both of them to escape from the mob if necessary. Erik was sure that they would not find the place so easily.
Their voices were growing louder by the moment, and he felt- dare he say, fear? - in his heart.
"Track down this murderer - He must be found! Hunt out this animal, who runs to ground! Too long he's preyed on us - but now we know: the Phantom of the Opera is there deep down below... He's here: the Phantom of the Opera ..."
The mannequin that he had modeled after Christine had been thrown face down, out into the water by the mirrors. It looked like it had drowned. He had been true to his pledge: he had refused to dream about her anymore.
Erik released Christine from his unyielding grip. She had stopped crying, backing away from the living corpse that was Erik, the Opera Ghost. He could not look at her. He simply waited for the hero, looking at the water. It was reflecting his hellish face.
"Have you gorged yourself at last, in your lust for blood?" Christine, said. She was obviously frightened. Erik turned to look at her. He did not reply to her allegations. "Am I now to be prey to your lust for flesh?"
So she thought she was a whore for him, eh?
"That fate, which condemns me to wallow in blood, has also denied me the joys of the flesh!" He spat back at her. She was a minx, he was a dead man. Did she not see…? "This face - the infection which poisons our love…" The passionate Erik was creeping back into his heart. Slowly, he found himself reaching towards ground, where the abandoned wedding veil was laying. Some of the lace was dirty, stomped on, and torn.
"This face, which earned a mother's fear and loathing… A mask! My first… unfeeling scrap of clothing!" He really did feel like crying. He was so close… he never talked about his mother. She was his ultimate betrayer. He had read in books about the never ending love that a mother that she instinctively has for her child… a love that had never been his. He had dreamed of that love. A love that could have been shared with Christine.
It was never to be.
"Pity comes too late - turn around and face your fate: an eternity of this before your eyes!" He slammed the veil on her head, and turned her to face him and his defect. He wanted to scream 'LOOK AT IT!'… Why didn't she see? Why didn't she see?
"This haunted face holds no horror for me now ... It's in your soul that the true distortion lies." She said, slowly, almost pityingly. Her veil, by its own accord, slipped off of her head, and slid onto the floor.
Oh Christine…
There was a splashing of water behind them. Could it be? It was! Erik was in fits of delight! The Hero had shown his face, and played right into his plan!
"Wait! I think my dear, we have a guest!" He pointed at the Viscount.
"Raoul!" Christine screamed. Too late now!
"Sir," Erik said, wading into the water. "This is indeed, an unparalleled delight. I had rather hoped-" Hoped! Knew! "-that you would come. Now, my wish comes true. You have truly made my night." He made an evil, crooked smile.
Monsieur Hero had pressed himself against the bars of the portcullis. Why didn't he just hang himself if he was so obliging? "Free her! Do what you like, only free her! Have you no pity?"
"Your lover makes a passionate plea!" Erik called over his shoulder to Christine.
"Please, Raoul, it's useless." Erik chuckled. She had no idea!
"I love her! Does that mean nothing? I love her! Show some compassion!"
That Fop had hit a nerve there. "THE WORLD SHOWED NO COMPASSION TO ME!"He reached down to pick up the Punjab Lasso, then and there. No, no, wait, Erik. Wait.
"Christine, Christine. Let me see her!" Oh, demanding are we?
"Be my guest, sir." He waved the Hero off, and sportingly opened and closed the portcullis behind Raoul. He turned around before the Hero could even reach the bank. It was now or never.
"Sir, I bid you welcome." He held his arms open, showing him where exactly the Phantom was living these past ten years. "Did you think that I would harm her?" he picked up the Punjab Lasso, but was still hiding it under the shield of the water. "Why would I make her pay for the sins which are YOURS?" Erik threw it around the Hero's neck and tightened. He could hear Christine scream. It made his heart break.
"Order your fine horses now! Raise up your hands to the level of your eyes!" He secured him to the portcullis by excess rope, also hidden under the water. "Nothing can save you now!" He threaded the rope holding Raoul's life through one of the holes, and used it as the gallows. "Except, perhaps, Christine!"
He turned to her. "Start a new life with me: buy his freedom with your love. Refuse me and you send your lover to his death!" To reinforce his point, he pulled the rope harder. The Hero gave a satisfying choke and gasp for air. Oh, well done! What an actor, that Viscount was!
"This is the choice! THIS IS THE POINT OF NO RETURN!"
She sobbed silently a bit, then said, bracingly; "What tears I might have shed for your dark fate, grow cold, and turn to tears of hate!" Erik's heart dropped.
"Christine, forgive me please forgive me. I did it all for you, and it was all for nothing…" the Viscount was crying now. The despair that Erik felt turned to jubilation at the Aristocrat's tears.
Christine was mumbling to herself, again. Erik ignored her.
"Past all hope of cries for help: no point in fighting - For either way you choose,
you cannot win! So, do you end your days with me, or do you send him to his grave?" Another tug on the rope, this time, a hard one. The bastard Raoul did another pleasing choke and sob.
"Why make her lie to you to save me?" Fop said.
"Angel of Music," Christine tried, tenderly, trying to get Erik to drop the rope. Nothing could! He would win this time! "Why this torment?"
"For pity's sake, Christine, say no!" Fop yelled at Christine. "Don't throw your life away for my sake!"
"His life is now the prize which you must earn!" Erik yelled at Christine. She was crying again. This time there was no pang.
"I fought so hard to free you…" Bastard Raoul said, looking down at the water. He was trying not to cry as well.
"You've past the point of no return!"
"Angel of Music… you've deceived me! I gave you my mind blindly." Christine mourned.
Erik was getting sick of all this melodrama. "You try my patience! Make your choice!" Another tug on Raoul's lifeline was pulled.
She considered, her eyes expressionless and blank. Christine moved to Erik, slowly. Her dress was floating in the water.
"Pitiful creatures of darkness… what kind of life have you known? God, give me courage to show you, you are not alone!"
She kissed him. Erik had never felt anything so pure, so wonderful, as being kissed. It was a sensation that he never had felt before. He was never kissed before, not even on the forehead or on the cheek. He had read that kisses were the best thing that anyone could ever feel. He knew now that the books were right. He wanted to never stop kissing Christine Daae, and to go on kissing her whenever they pleased.
She pulled away from him, to plant another aching kiss on his cheek… the one that caused so much horror in the hearts of many.
Dear God! She chose him!
The repressed emotions that had welled within him finally released, and he started to cry. Christine looked alarmed and rubbed his arm supportively. Was it just an act? Erik didn't know. He didn't want to know. He just wanted to remember this Christine, here, at this moment, kissing him like he was the only man for her.
He knew he wouldn't be able to kill Raoul. He wouldn't have been able to live with a miserable Christine… he wanted her to be happy, and healthy.
And that meant if Raoul lived, and he would live with Christine, then so be it. He released the rope. Christine gasped.
The mob was approaching; their voices were clearly audible now. Was there enough time to get them out?
"Take her- forget me, forget all of this." Erik staggered away, crying. His voice was breaking, along with his heart. Was this truly love? To let go? Leave me alone - forget all you've seen ... Go now - don't let them find you! Take the boat - leave me here - go now,
don't wait ... Just take her and go - before it's too late ... Go ..."
The couple were staring at them, not moving. Why weren't they leaving? Didn't they know the mob would kill them if they found them here? "Go now! Go now and leave me!" He yelled. He stumbled back to his 'throne', and slowly sank down into it.
Goodbye, Christine.
His music box started playing. It was a sad tune… one that he had composed himself. He sang along with it. Erik was mocking himself. "Masquerade… paper faces on parade, masquerade… hide your face so the world will never find you…" He cried into his hands.
There was a shuffle in front of him Impossible! It wasn't possible that the mob would be there so soon… He looked up.
Christine.
Was it possible? Did she really choose him? His heart swelled, and he wiped away his tears.
"Christine, I love you."
Walking toward him, she held out the ring. The ring he gave her. He looked at it, puzzled, before he realized. "Christine-"
She kissed him, again on his deformed, terrible side, and then again with his other, normal side.
She smiled, sadly, and then ran away. Raoul was waiting at the boat, she climbed aboard, and he would never see her again.
Erik watched it all from his seat.
"You alone can make my song take flight… it's over now, the music of the night!" He stood up, grabbed the nearest thing within reach- it was a golden candlestick- and smashed all the mirrors that was in his personal Hell.
He pulled back the curtain to the final mirror, the biggest and sturdiest, and with a scream, destroyed it in two whacks.
A secret passageway was behind the mirror. He took a last look at his lair, before stepping out into the light, the world beyond the Opera Populaire.