Disclaimer: I don't own anyone in this story, although I'd like to. Hmm. . . *gets a net and rope and stalks off*
Christine:
I couldn't stand it, this living lie. I loved Raoul, but how long would it last? Would I really be able to convince myself that Raoul was the better choice? Could I force myself to live as his bride?
No, not for long. I can't keep this up. I can't deceive Raoul any longer. I cannot return his love in full, but would he understand? Obviously the last time I tried this, it didn't work at all to my advantage. How foolish I had been! How foolish I am! I was simply frightened by the love being shown to me by that man with the most beautiful soul I'd ever seen. I was afraid of him, scared of that face that I haven't even seen before in nightmares. Would I be able to look past that horrible visage that even he couldn't bring himself to see?
I walked through the park - a few weeks after Raoul gave me the diamond necklace - the moon casting a romantic light upon the path I took. I wore a full-length white dress with long, loose sleeves. The bodice was midnight blue and had small pearls sewn into the collar. The heels of my shoes clicked on the stone pathway as I went.
I waited patiently, though I know not for what. I looked around expectantly, seeing the grass lit up by moonlight, the trees swaying their branches slowly to a private rhythm.
A sweet voice drifted towards me, carried on a warm breeze that seemed to circle around me before tugging me towards the sound. It pulled me away from the path I walked, onto another leading towards the center of the park. The voice tugged at me and I, like the ship to the siren waiting upon the rocks, willingly let it take me. The voice was so indescribable that even the words "gorgeous" and "pure" cannot even begin to do it justice. Instinctively, I held my breath and quieted my step so as not to disrupt that perfect song. The disembodied voice continued to beckon me, and I walked towards it quickly, almost at a run.
The trail opened up into a large courtyard. In the middle, set in the ground, was a man-made pond so large that it could have been a small lake. The night was crisp, causing the water to leave a soft mist that obscured my vision somewhat. There were red rose bushes as dark as blood along the sides of the stone path encircling the wide pond. Beads of dew glittered on the red petals as I plucked one single thorn-less rose and placed it behind my ear. Wildflowers dotted the grass stretched out beneath the paths and the fountain and beneath everything else. The moonlight reflected off of the water, making it sparkle. It seemed as if someone had thrown millions of diamonds onto a bluish-black velvet drape.
And still the voice beckoned to me, almost pleading, almost demanding. It wasn't until I was a few feet from the fountain that I finally noticed the silhouette of a man at the lip of the small lake. At the moment his back was to me, but as I warily drew walked closer, his tall form turned to face me, his song coming to a wondrous crescendo.
He wore a stark-white shirt that seemed to glow under the moonlight. A crimson vest made of silk he wore over the shirt, and over all of this he donned a black dress coat. He wore black pants, his legs set apart slightly. A dark cape lined with red velvet was draped over his shoulders. His arms were outstretched as we came closer together, all the while still he sang. Every movement he made was graceful, fluid. Both of my hands outstretched, I reached out and held onto his hands gloved in black. With great surprise, I felt him go rigid at my touch, his voice suddenly wavering. But, when I did not flinch away from his cold fingers, as I had before, and he did not shy away from my warmth, he relaxed and let his guard down.
I gently pulled away one of my hands to touch his white porcelain mask, which covered only the right side of his face and was shadowed by the wide-brimmed fedora. When he tilted his head slightly, the mask glowed preternaturally under the moonlight. Soon I was so close that I laid my head on his chest, for he was much taller than I was. We remained that way for a moment and his song never ceased. He gingerly brushed my cheek and timidly placed his hand on my back. I looked up at him, wrapping one arm around his waist.
"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime," he begged, his glowing gold eyes twinkling like stars. "Lead me, save me from my solitude. Say you want me with you, here beside you... Anywhere you go let me go too - Christine that's all I ask of you."
And while he sang this, my hand was once again caressing his mask. His face came closer to mine, so near that I could feel his soft breath on my forehead, his lips brushing my eyelashes. I longed to pull the mask away, the only barrier between us, but I knew he would fly into a violent rage. I was foolish to have done that when I had only really known him for a little while. Both he and I were not ready to take that step again yet.
"Say you love me," he softly pleaded.
"You know I do," I replied, just as quietly. "Love me-"
"That's all I ask of you. . ."
Our lips met as he reached the final word, awkwardly at first, and then more comfortably. I drew closer to him, feeling as if I should melt into him so that we should never be parted. He wrapped both arms around my waist tentatively, and I threw both of mine around his neck. It felt as if time stopped just for us as we held each other, separating only so we could come up for air. Nothing had ever felt so right, so normal. . .
After what felt like both centuries and seconds in his embrace, our lips parted. He stared at me incredulously with eyes lit up by innocent wonder. Using his right hand, he touched my hair and seemed to dote on every single curl. After that moment, I knew I could never love anyone else as much as I loved him.
"You came back," he whispered, barely able to control some emotion that I could not name. "But what about your viscount. . .?"
I shook my head vaguely. "No, I don't love him. I've realized that I only tried to return what he showed me. I loved him only because he loved me. But now, I can't love him any more. . ." I smiled my first true smile in weeks.
"You came back to me. . . I thought I'd never see you again. I thought you hated me. I thought. . . Oh, Christine, don't cry. It hurts me when you cry. . ." He said this so innocently that I let out a sound that seemed like a sob to him and a laugh to me. His long, tapered finger caught my tears as if they were precious stones.
"But Erik," I said, laughing softly, "you're crying too." I wiped the tears from his face as well. We laughed, then, and he buried the unmasked side of his face into my hair while I pressed my cheek into his chest, listening to his heartbeat. I grasped to him more tightly, acting as if he were an apparition that would disappear if I let go.
"I love you," he whispered. He tensed in my embrace, waiting for my answer. I felt his warm tears drop onto my neck. His arms loosened their hold on me as he began to slip away.
Already he had reached an answer. He still didn't understand, did he? I had come back to him, I held him in my arms still! The kiss we had shared still warmed me deeply despite the cold of the night. Couldn't he come to his own conclusion? But then I realized, he himself had hinted at the fact that no one had shown him love, hadn't he? Even his own mother had only showed him fear and hate. My eyes widened slightly as I looked at his face, trying vainly to find the emotion behind that cursed mask of his.
"My poor Erik. . . no one has ever said they loved you. . ." He shook his head reluctantly, trying to turn away from me, but my hold on him was steadfast. "Then listen to me now. I love you, Erik, my Angel. I love you. I just hope that you can forgive me for what I did to you. . . But nothing can part us now. Not ever."
And suddenly his silent tears turned into joyful weeping. I stroked his neck, taking his hat and kissing his forehead. Erik fell to his knees and put his left cheek on my stomach, his arms around my waist still. I slowly overcame my shock at the action. He was always so graceful, so apathetic about everything. And now he had become a child and I, the parent. . . I smiled, then, remembering that Erik used to be the second father to me. I went down on my knees beside him as well, wiping away his tears.
"Don't leave me," he cried, trying desparately to stop his crying. "Forgive me, I forced you through hell and worse. I shouldn't have made you decide. . . Don't ever leave me. I'll die if you do. . ."
"I won't, my love. I won't ever leave again, I promise. . ."
(A/N: Reviews much appreciated. . .)