I know I haven't updated this lately, but I've been caught up in other fics. I never planned on abandoning this one. Anyway, I decided to take out the name change in the beginning and just leave it at Raven the whole time. And I'm happy to say that I have received no more flames. I won't bother with answering reviews, I'll just go straight into the story.
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Raven darted through the crowds backstage. Policemen were coming in through the side doors, only to be crowded out by stampeding ballerinas running frantically for the exits. She found a door leading out of the backstage area into a deserted hallway.
She'd never been in this part of the Opera before. Judging from the direction of the auditorium, she turned left and headed down the passage.
This way took her to a room she'd only been to once before – the landing outside the managers' office. Policemen and Opera officials milled around exchanging information. Raven spied a door on the other side on the landing. She made for it, and crashed into a tall man. He turned around to face her.
Raven stared at him. With his dark skin and foreign looking hat, this man could only be the Persian. He gave her a small, knowing smile.
"I recommend you stay out of the cellars tonight. He does not need any more problematic women on his hands tonight." He glanced around. "Would you perhaps know where the Vicomte de Chagny may be?"
Raven stiffened, and tried to return his smile. "Last I saw him, monsieur, he was in the auditorium, looking rather lost. If you please…?" And she edged her way around him.
She was in familiar territory now. Finding her usual trapdoor, she made her way down through the cellars. She wondered if she should have warned the Persian about the third cellar entrance leading to the torture chamber. She shook her head, scolding herself. She was already twisting the story more than necessary – no need to eliminate full chapters in the name of character safety. As if they wouldn't be all right in the end.
Momentarily lost in the second cellar, she looked around, trying to get her bearings. It was rather some time before she managed to find another door to go through. She wondered how Raoul and the Persian were getting along.
At long last, she reached the lake in the fifth cellar. What was she to do now? She hadn't formulated her plan past this point. How on earth was she to enter the house? The boat sat in the shadows on the far side of the lake, but did she dare take it and enter? When Erik doesn't want someone coming in, you can usually rely on no one being there, whether by choice or not.
Raven suddenly heard footsteps behind her. No time to hide. She whipped around to face whomever it might be.
She was expecting the ratcatcher, or perhaps a lost door-closer. Certainly not a disheveled gentleman with mussed hair, dirty pants, and a torn opera cloak. In his rush he nearly collided with her, but stopped just in time. Which was good for Raven, as his force would have sent her falling backward into the freezing lake.
He seemed not to notice Raven. He stared at the rippling water, fiddling with his hat that he held in his hands. "Raoul was right…it's all true…then this ghost…" It seemed he was at the same decision as Raven, but he quickly made his choice. "Must go in…" he murmured to himself. And only then did it dawn on Raven. This was Philippe de Chagny, looking for his brother, knowing that he'd have come down to the cellars, where the ghost supposedly dwelled. Here was the lake Raoul had spoken of, and what more to do now than go across in search of this ghost?
"Erm…Monsieur le Comte?" Philippe didn't answer. "I don't recommend you…" But he had already seized the little boat and was working out the mechanics of the pole. Frantic at being left behind with no hope of reaching Erik, she cried out, "At least take me across with you!"
Only at the magnified sound of her voice did the Comte turn around. "Oh…who are you?" The poor man was immeasurably distraught. She laid a comforting hand on his.
"My name is Raven. And I'm looking for someone very important in that house as well."
"My brother Raoul is in there!" he said wildly.
"Yes," agreed Raven. "So let's go across and get him now."
Philippe nodded confusedly, clambering into the boat. Raven joined him, and he pushed forcefully off the edge of the lake. She held on tight, trying not to think about what was going to happen next. I can't change what happened in the book…whether I'm here or not, it's going to happen…
They were far from the water's edge now. Raven could tell from previous excursions that they would soon reach the other side.
A strange, high-pitched singing reached their ears. Philippe ceased poling, and they bobbed in the water for a moment. "Do you hear that?" he murmured, not to anyone in particular. The melody deepened, rising high then dropping down again, forming no words. Raven closed her eyes, trying to block it out, and Philippe leaned over, the better to hear it.
"The siren," whispered Raven.
The little boat suddenly capsized. They were plunged into the cold water of the lake, floundering. It was deeper than it looked. Raven grabbed for the boat, as Philippe's head disappeared below the waves. She knew that there was no way to stop it…but she desperately groped around underwater for his hand, wanting to pull him up, but water was all her fingers met. She clenched her teeth as she clung to the boat for dear life. She couldn't have done anything…There was no way to change it…
The water stopped frothing.
Something gripped her ankle. It tried to pull her under, and Raven hung ever more tightly on the boat. "Erik!" she called, knowing that it was him, playing the part of the siren, below the waves. He didn't hear her through the water, and he kept pulling at her legs. She began to lose her grip.
Raven kicked out, and a great splash was made beside her head, as Erik surfaced. "Erik!" she cried again.
The look on his unmasked face was positively livid. He grew even more enraged when he saw her, and she shrank in fear of his anger, eyes flashing in the darkness.
"What in hell are you doing here?" he hissed. Treading water, he dragged her up to the edge of the lake, which was nearer than she expected. It had been impossible to see in the dark. "I don't need you right now. We're extremely busy. Don't you know the importance of what may come to pass within?"
"Erik, rethink this, you can't – " But he was already gone. Raven pounded on his door, but it was no use. It was far too thick for any knock to get through.
She searched her pockets, but she hadn't changed out of her chorus dress – now torn and clinging to her skin with water – and it had nothing in its pockets with which to attempt to pick the lock. And she didn't dare enter uninvited. Even she wouldn't escape the wrath of an incensed Erik.
Hours she waited outside the door, knowing full well what happened inside. She watched the waters mournfully, as they lapped innocently at her toes. She'd never given much thought to Philippe de Chagny before, but now…having seen his death herself…been right there…and not done anything. Her heart ached. She thought of Raoul and the Persian…trapped in the torture chamber, learning firsthand why it had that name. Christine, probably frightened out of her mind by something she just didn't understand. And Erik, in all his mad agony, as he posed Christine her choice…
The door opened.
Raven scrambled to her feet. A tearstained Christine was supporting a dazed Raoul out the door. She sniffed, looking around for the boat. Only then did she notice Raven. She stared. "What…please…where is the boat?"
Raven pointed silently to the overturned vessel in the shallows. She helped Christine to turn it over. She laid Raoul tenderly into the boat, and poled quietly away, not looking back to Raven on the edge of the lake beside Erik's little house once.
Christine disappeared into the shadows.
Nervously, ever so slowly, Raven inched the door open to admit herself.
Erik lay slumped across the piano, its keys covered. His mask lay forgotten on the floor beside the bench. Raven crept up to him, and laid her hand on his shoulder. He didn't move.
"Erik," whispered Raven. He didn't stir. And Raven couldn't find words for what she wanted to say. "I…should have known…that I couldn't make you forget her. I never should have tried. I'm sorry."
She hovered over him for a few moments, not sure of what to do. And then, she just slunk out, thinking she'd find the exit into the Rue Scribe, and leave Erik to himself. She made for the door.
"I really did love her…" Erik shifted his body, resting his face in his hands. "I thought…perhaps…I could make her love me…"
Raven didn't answer. "If it helps at all, Erik," she murmured, "you'll always have my love." And she swung the door shut behind her.
ooo
The remote took her safely back to her own home, once more in her own time. Everything was exactly as she had left it, as if she'd never been anywhere. But the tears streaming down her face told otherwise. Raven stared at the remote in her hand, then strode across her room. She stored it hastily in a small wooden chest on her desk, in which she kept various charms, amulets, and crystals. She wasn't ready to use it again. The memory of Erik remained burned into her eyes, and she wiped away a few stray tears. She shut the chest. No, not ready to use it, to witness another tragedy perhaps, to see another heartbreak.
Not yet.
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And that's the end! Hope those of you who actually liked this story like the ending. I have other stories planned, so the next story I do with the remote (because there will be another, hopefully better planned out than this) will be a while in coming. Thanks to all those who supported me in my time of flames!
Aislin
