Chapter Four

Down Once More

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"If I tell you, will you listen?

Will you stay?

Will you be here forever,

Never go away?

Never thought things would change,

Hold me tight, please don't say again,

That you have to go…

A bitter fall, I had it all,

But I just let it go

Hold your silence, it's so violent

Since you're gone…

All my thoughts are you with you forever,

Until the day we back together,

I will be waiting for you…"

"Bittersweet", Within Temptation

The ruins of the Opera Populaire rose ominously before Christine, the charred black walls standing out starkly against the early morning sky. The broken windows leered down at her like empty eye sockets, cold and accusing her of her past crimes and betrayals, daring her to come closer. A crude fence had been erected around the opera house to keep curious passer bys out and away from the highly dangerous area. The grand doors were nailed shut. It was overall a pitiful sight to see. The once magnificent opera house which had once been so inviting, had once been her home, reduced to this broken, unwelcoming mass.

It was a dark and dreary reminder to Christine of what she was about to face once she was inside. Reason begged her to turn away, to return to the safety of the Giry's home and back to Raoul, to forget all of this like she was supposed to have…

But her heart did not allow to cast so much as a remorseful glance back over her shoulder.

Something moved by the fence, and Christine had to quickly duck into the shadows of the ally she was standing in as a police officer crossed her view. There was no way she could get close to the entrance of the Opera Populaire without being seen, much less make an effort to pull off the boards over the doors to get in. She just had to hope that the back entrance would be unguarded…

Staying out of the officer's field of view, Christine moved through the back ally ways, careful to keep to the shadows as she made a wide arch to the back of the opera house. The fence circled around the entire ruined building, but as far as she could tell, there were no policemen guarding the back. Still, Christine waited, but after several long, tense moments, nothing moved. Taking a deep breath, the young woman quickly made her way to the fence, passing easily through the loose boards.

It was much darker behind the fence boards, making it slightly harder for Christine to find the latch to the hidden door that Erik had shown her many months ago. She briefly recalled how he took her hand and gently guided her fingers along the walls, teaching her how to feel for what could not be seen. The mere memory of his touch made her heart flutter within her chest…

Christine abandoned the memory when she heard the sounds of footsteps approaching from around the corner. Her heart thumped behind her ribs as she hastily ran her hand across the face of the brick wall, praying that she did not miss the latch in her urgency to find it. Then she felt it catch under her fingers and felt a surge of joy. Luckily, the secret door opened both ways. If there was ever a time that Erik needed to leave the opera house, he would have to get both out and in without being noticed by anyone. Christine pulled the latch, and a section of the stone wall slid away before her, leaving nothing but a gaping black void in its place. Without a second thought, Christine entered the secret door and tripped the latch on the other side, closing the portal behind her.

The corridor was plunged into darkness, but she no longer feared the dark. Yet another gift her precious Angel of Music had given to her.

Keeping her hands on the cold, rough walls, Christine traced her steps back down the path that would lead her to Erik's underground home. The stairwell that took her five stories underground was steep and slippery, and the descent was long and slow as she took care to not loose her footing. If she tripped and fell and injured herself, no one would know she was down here.

After what felt like hours, Christine felt her feet meet level ground, and she breathed a sigh of relief. The corridor was still nearly pitch black, but she knew it as well as if she had lived here her entire life. The smell of damp stone and exotic incense, the sounds of the lapping water of the subterranean lake, the bone chilling damp of the air… Still staying close to the wall, Christine moved forward once again, but she did not get very far before a gasp of surprise caught in her throat.

Light.

There was light in the cavern; the soft glow of candlelight, but light nonetheless. Not only that, but she could also see the hidden "back door" of Erik's home was slightly ajar. That could only mean…

She nearly laughed out loud as she picked up her pace to a near run, following the light as if it were a beacon to salvation. Trembling from head to toe, Christine approached the door that would have otherwise been hidden in the stony wall and pushed it open until she could make her way inside.

Her heart broke all over again.

Erik's home – his once enchanting, darkly beautiful home – was no more. In its place was nothing more than a tomb of broken furniture, torn papers and destroyed books… The mob had left nothing in tact. Anything that could have been broken was so in the most complete way possible. Broken tallow candles littered the floor like the bodies of fallen soldiers, laying in a field of shredded paper and splintered wood. Christine barely recognized the chairs she and Erik would occupy in front of the fireplace in her brief time here, where they would spend hours reading to one another, or immersed in a game of chest…

She remembered how captivated she was when she watched him carefully plan his next move, even though she was hardly a skilled chest player, brow furrowed and frowning deeply… In the firelight, the unmasked side of his face had a sort of intangible beauty that made her heart still in her chest…

The most heartbreaking sight of all that the magnificent organ that once dominated the far wall of the house. It seemed that the mob had taken all their fury out on the instrument. The pipes were bents and twisted at painful angles, the keys ripped away from the keyboard and crushed… Tears stung Christine's eyes, and she had to look away.

The hours they spent at the organ, singing to each other, with each other, for each other… How Erik would gently instruct her, correcting her mistakes, guiding her as the most skilled teacher in the world…

There was even the night when she just sat next to him as he played and composed, lost in his own thoughts, unaware of her state of silent awe beside him until she eventually drifted off into a warm sleep, her head coming to rest upon his shoulder…

"May I help you, Miss?"

The unexpected voice from behind made Christine cry out in surprise, jumping in fright so badly that she could barely stand afterwards. The man who had spoken had frightened her so badly that her mind did not even register the voice belonging to Erik, but as her pulse slowed, her knew immediately that the thickly accented voice was anything but his.

Standing a few cautious feet behind her was a foreign, dark-skinned man whom Christine had never seen before. If finding a girl in the cellars of the opera house surprised him, he showed no outward sign; only one eyebrow was raised, a silent request for her to explain herself.

Her confusion, though, quickly gave way to panic as she studied his attire. It looked like a uniform… a police uniform. As foreign as he, but a police uniform nonetheless. Erik had never told her of anyone who knew their way to his underground home…

Panic turned to anger. Bitter, raging anger that Christine had never felt before. She had no control of her actions as she hurdled herself at the man, her hands grasping the front of his jacket like the claws of an animal and she shook him with all the strength she possessed.

"You bastard!" she snarled. "What did you do to him?"

Shock and confusion flooded the man's face. "I beg your pardon?"

"Erik!" Christine nearly shrieked. "Where is he? What have you done to him? If you hurt him…"

Almost instantly the shock in the man's eyes dissolved into understanding. "I take it…you're Christine?"

The gentle tone in his voice extinguished the anger in Christine's blood before she realized it had happened. The panic, however, remained. "Where is Erik? What have you done with him? And who are you?"

"Relax, Mademoiselle Daaé, I assure you he is safe. In fact, I was just able to convince him to sleep, and I advise you, it is probably wise that he is not awoken to such a…racket." The man gently took Christine's hands and unlatched them from his now very wrinkled coat. "My name is Nadir, Mademoiselle. I have known Erik for quite some time, from the time he spent in Persia. I just happened to be in the city when I heard rumors of the events with the Opera Ghost, and the disaster of Don Juan and the chandelier."

"How long have you been here?" Christine asked, bewilderment and hope mingling in her voice.

"Ever since the mobs cleared and the fires were out. I heard nothing of the police saying if a body had been found or not, so I had to check myself."

"Was he hurt?"

"Physically? No."

Christine winced at his sharply punctuated words.

"I assume that he…told you about me…"

Nadir nodded gravely. Christine adverted her gaze to hide the tears.

"You probably think I'm a horrible person…"

Silence dragged on for several moments before the Persian sighed. "That, I cannot answer, even from knowing Erik as long as I have. At first, I wondered if he was mad when he told me that he had found love in his life. Ever since I knew him, he had always been incredibly independent, attaching himself to nothing and nobody. But I should have assumed…when Erik does find something of desire to him, no matter how rare that may be, he would fight to the death for it, not caring what consequences were suffered along the way." Nadir turned back to her, but now his hard eyes were soft and sympathetic. "You must not blame Erik for his actions, Mademoiselle. As brilliant as the man is, he is unaccustomed when dealing with others and the potential result of his actions. I do not blame you for fearing him, or from fleeing, when he threatened you with your fiancé's life."

Christine opened her mouth to correct him, but decided quickly against it. This was not the time, and it was not his business.

"But I am convinced that even with his temper, his potential for malice…he would have never hurt you. I could tell that by the look in his eyes. Seeing Erik in tears was somewhat…unnerving."

Take her…

Forget me…

Forget all of this…

"Where is he now?"

The Persian inclined to the direction of the Phillip-Louise room, which had been her own when Erik brought her down with him. "As I said, asleep. He was something of a mess when I found him, and the fits of rage were something of a horror to behold. He has not slept since the night you left."

Christine nodded, and began to move to the direction of the room.

"Mademoiselle."

She turned back.

"I also regret to inform you that all he spoke of you were not of love and adoration. As I said before, I do not believe he is physically capable of harming you. But are you prepared to face what is to come to be when you speak to him? Erik's heart was already as unsteady as a ticking time bomb before it was broken."

Fear crept into Christine's chest, but she fought it back. "Yes. I am prepared. I just could not leave it as it ended that night."

The Persian said nothing. Taking a deep breath, Christine pushed the door open and walked inside.

The room beyond was dark, save but a single candle burning on the dresser. Even in the soft light, though, Christine could see the room was still whole, completely untouched by the mob, but that was the last of her concerns at the moment. Her entire attention was focused on the man asleep on the grand mahogany bed.

Erik lay on his back, his hands folded across his torso. His head was slightly inclined to the right, the candlelight reflecting off the mask with surprising brightness, and his breathing was deep and regular. This was not the breathing of a peaceful sleep, Christine knew. As Nadir had said, he was clearly exhausted, the evidence of not sleeping in a full week written all over him. His eyes were lined with dark circles, his hair an untidy mess. Dark stubble clung to his face and his clothing was badly wrinkled. Christine felt her heart constrict and tears come to her eyes as she quietly crossed the room to his side.

This was the portrait of a broken man. A man who lost everything, even after a lifetime of nothing.

Raoul had been hurt when she broke off their engagement.

Erik had been crushed under the weight of his own life crashing down on top of him when she left.

With trembling fingers, Christine reached out to brush a few tendrils of hair from his eyes. It was then she realized this was the first time she had ever seen Erik asleep. She was not sure why that surprised her. Maybe it was because Erik had always been too proud to reveal such a time of vulnerability to anyone, herself included.

He looked like a child.

With a gentle smile, Christine reached over and carefully peeled his mask back from his face, setting it down beside her before turning her attention back to him. The pang of shock she had once felt looking at his deformity was gone as she absently traced the marred features with the pads of her fingers, pulling back slightly when Erik sighed in his sleep, turning over to his side by just a few inches.

Christine felt a wave of warmth and compassion crash over her as she watched him.

This was not the Angel of Music

This was not the Phantom of the Opera.

This was Erik.

Erik the man.

The man…she had grown to love. Despite all the fear, all the betrayal, all the pain… she loved him. Unconditionally, and without reason.

Being as careful as she could, Christine reached for a blanket at the end of the bed and gently draped it over his sleeping form, allowing her hands to whisper up his chest and to his face once more.

She loved him.

But Nadir's words came back to haunt her. How would he regard her after her last betrayal, after she unmasked him before the audience of Don Juan, after she gave the ring back to him?

Christine sighed.

She was just going to have to wait until he woke up.

Author's Note: I stayed up until 2 in the morning finishing this sucker. And on a school night, nonetheless.

This is almost fully a "filler" chapter, just to link together what happens between Christine's nightmares and when she actually talks to Erik again. Believe me, I really didn't want to take the time to explain how she got back into the opera house (which I know I totally pulled out of my ass), but it had to be done. Forgive me if Christine is out of character in this one, but if I was in her position, I'd probably fly off that handle seeing someone in Erik's "secret house" as well. Overall, I would appreciate if any errors on my part are overlooked. It's not the main focus of the story, after all.

The scene where Christine sees Erik asleep wasn't supposed to be in until the next chapter, but I figured I needed to give you guys some fluffiness to cuddle up to before the next (and final) chapter is posted. Maybe it's just me, but has anyone else noticed how beautiful and peaceful looking some people are when they're asleep? I can imagine Erik would be one of them.