Okay guys, we all knew this had to happen.
It's the return of Raoul...and ya'll are gonna HATE HIM EVEN MORE NOW! haha.
I hope I did the first R chapter justice. We're back to PG-13, so those of you who didn't want to read the last chapter, just know that Erik and Christine had sex and are in sappy love. That pretty much sums up the R rated chap. This one is safe, save some bad language.
I've got a three day weekend, so we might see this story come to an end sooner than later.
Leave me some more fabulously funny reviews. I'm going to happy hour tonight at work and would love to have something to read when I get back all toasted.
Or, better yet, my AIM screen name is BEEKERBOOGIRL. Feel free to IM me any time. I love meeting new people, especially those who have been reading this!
Luckily, the Opera Populaire was predictable.
It was late, way past midnight.
Everyone was asleep, either passed out from too much drink or too much work.
It was usually the former.
Erik and Christine walked slowly onto the stage, which was still draped in just about all of the props and scenery for Don Juan Triumphant.
Erik stared at the scenery, no doubt trying to suppress the feelings the sight was invoking in him.
"It is sort of a shame," Christine said as Erik ran a gloved hand over a long swatch of red silk. "It was a beautiful opera, Erik."
Erik turned to look at her. He would never tire of filling his sight with Christine. He had barely been able to keep his eyes off of her as he had directed his small carriage back to the Opera Populaire. She had rested lightly against him on the driver's bench, a smile playing on her ruddy lips.
Erik's carriage was tucked safely in an alleyway behind the opera, his horses ready to carry both he and Christine quickly away should there be any confrontation.
"It's no longer important," he said, referring to Don Juan Triumphant. "It's purpose has been served."
Christine came beside him, pressing a light kiss on his cheek.
He wore his mask again. Christine imagined he would never be comfortable in public without it. There was a terrible sadness attached to that realization.
"Christine," Erik interrupted her thoughts. "We must hurry."
Christine nodded. She had already packed a medium-sized suitcase with some of her more precious belongings from her room. Erik had sat on the edge of her generously-sized bed, watching her.
First, she had removed the heavy cloak Erik had wrapped around her prior to leaving his mansion. She had blushed as she caught his eyes roving over her once again naked body.
He had smirked, knowing her body was his, causing her to quickly dress in a simple light blue gown she had not worn in ages.
"You led me to believe you only wore black," Erik said, his voice teasing slightly.
She had smiled at him, adjusting her hair. "I am no longer in mourning," she informed him.
Erik resisted the urge to take her all over again.
Christine had insisted they come to the stage, so she could bid the Opera Populaire a proper goodbye. Erik had hesitated, wanting to put this place behind them as quickly as possible and move onto happier times.
He had waited for such times for long enough.
And now he watched her as she gazed around the large auditorium, her eyes misting.
She turned to him. "May I have a moment alone, Erik?" She asked softly.
Erik hesitated.
"Just a moment," Christine repeated.
He nodded. "I shall be right outside of those doors," he said, pointing to the back entrance to the stage.
Christine nodded, kissing him fully on the lips.
And with a flair of his cape, he left her alone on the stage.
Christine stood downstage, breathing deeply. She wanted to memorize this place; she never planned to return. She wanted to remember the sight of the red velvet seats, the impressive (restored) chandelier, the high ceilings, which were painted with all the most important biblical scenes.
She looked to box five, a chill radiating up her spine as she remembered seeing the shadowy figure that occupied the space during more than one of her performances.
How she would miss the applause, the lights, the glittering limelight that she had almost become addicted to!
She knew, however, that what she was gaining would more than compensate for what she was about to lose.
The part of her life that was defined by the Opera Populaire had come to a close.
It was time to seek new definitions.
She smiled, feeling all at once whole.
With one last remorseless glance, she turned; heading for where she knew Erik was waiting for her.
"You would leave without bestowing the same courtesy to me that you so graciously gave to an empty room?"
The voice was cold.
Raoul.
Christine spun.
He stood there, looking nothing like the childhood friend she had been so close to.
His hair was loose about his face, partially obscuring the damage she had done to the right side of his face.
Raoul walked slowly onto the stage.
"Raoul," she addressed him. "What are you doing here?"
"I've come for my goodbye, Christine! I've come to see how happy you are...how sated you are after having spent yourself with him!"
His voice made Christine wince. It was harsh, pained...angry.
"Raoul, please..."
"Keep your pleas silent, Mademoiselle," Raoul barked coldly. He moved to her.
Scream! Scream for Erik! A voice in Christine's head ordered. Yet she remained silent, fear clutching her vocal chords.
"Would you like to see your handiwork, Christine?" Raoul asked, pulling his own hair roughly from his face and moving inches from her own.
Christine couldn't help the tears that formed at the sight of the jagged gash, the black as coal stitching that marred the once porcelain cheek.
"Raoul," she gasped. "I'm...I'm sorry...I was just doing...what I thought was best..." Christine offered weakly.
"What was best?" Raoul whispered harshly. "What was best for whom exactly? Surely not for me!"
Christine knew that she had two options. She could run screaming from this place, calling for Erik to come to her rescue once more.
And honestly, that was probably what she would have to do.
But not yet.
"After the way you've acted, after this strange side of you has emerged, do you honestly think I would return to you, Raoul!" Christine said, her voice even.
Raoul stared at her, surprised by her suddenly apparent backbone.
Christine moved a bit closer to the man who was once her fiancé. "I am in love with Erik, Raoul. I always have been. I cannot help that, or change it," she whispered lowly. "And I don't want to."
"You choose him, a murdering, lying, deceitful man over me who has never wronged you in anyway?" Raoul asked incredulously.
"I can feel how you have never wronged me," Christine said, moving a hand to her injured arm.
"You jumped in front of my sword..."
"To save the man I love!" Christine interrupted loudly.
The proclamation enraged Raoul.
"To save the man you love? You would have killed me to save the man you love?"
Christine said nothing.
Raoul responded by smacking her hard across her face. Christine could taste blood in her mouth.
"You whore," he spat. "You worthless, conniving whore!"
He appeared taller, puffed into largeness by his rage.
Perhaps now would be a good time to call for Erik, the voice in Christine's head suggested.
Christine took a deep breath. "Erik!" She shrieked. "Erik!"
Raoul instantly clamped his hand over her mouth, his nose practically touching hers. "Do you wish to see the man you love, Christine?"
Christine's eyes went wide at the tone of his voice.
"Do you seek to have him appear and finish the job you started?"
Raoul turned on his heel, moving to the curtains. Christine started to run towards the exit when she heard a struggle behind her followed by three or four sickening thuds.
She turned slowly, an icy feeling spreading throughout her body.
There, standing in the middle of the stage, was Raoul.
Laying in an unconscious, bleeding heap before him with his hands tied behind his back, was Erik.