"They're going to kill him! Oh, God, I can't believe this! This is my worst nightmare!"
Erik was the Opera Ghost, the Phantom of the Opera to all of those who worked at the Opera Populaire... but he was Christian's Angel of Music, his guardian, his teacher, his friend,... his love. He absolutely adored Erik. He treasured sleeping beside him in the night, the warmth from Erik's body easing the cold of the cellar. How Erik enveloped Christian within his satin cape as they embraced and kissed, the soft, white fabric of Erik's shirt as he nestled his face into it, and the sweet, lingering aroma of his cologne...
All of that would be brought to an end if Erik came to see him sing. The man that he loved would be reduced to nothing... and Jezebelle, not caring nor comprehending that they loved each other, would try her hand at taking him, to turn him into a husband for herself. He shuddered, hating her more than ever.
"What am I going to do now...?" he wondered in anguish. He sunk into the mattress, not caring whether he woke up or not.
"Those who tongle with Don Juan!" Piangi sang...or rather, squawked... in a wobbly, off-key voice. His pronunciation was far from ideal.
"No, no, Signor Piangi, it's tangle! Those who tang-tang-tang-! Now try it again." Reyer corrected him impatiently. He was not very flattered by the opera that had to be produced, as it contained the "Greek Vice".
"Those who tongle with Don Juan-!" Piangi tried again. He sounded better, but still couldn't pronounce the tangle correctly.
"Here, Signor, it's-." Christian tried to be civilized and help, but Piangi rudely slapped him away.
"I like his way better! At least he makes it sound like music!" Carlotta blurted out.
"Would you dare speak that way in the presence of the composer?" Madame Giry shot at Carlotta as a warning.
"The composer isn't here! If he was I would-." Carlotta didn't understand that Erik heard all that was said in the opera house.
"How do you know?" Madame Giry interrupted piercingly, her eyes fixed on the diva's eyes. Carlotta was indignant, but didn't dare say a word.
"THOSE WHO TONGLE WITH DON JUAAAAN!" Piangi's singing broke their ears.
"Who cares! Nobody will notice a difference anyway!" Carlotta said aloud, mockingly.
She and the rest of the cast went on a tangent, singing the music horribly, intentionally mocking Erik's work as Christian stood to the side glaring at them.
"I'm so sorry, Erik...!" he whispered, his eyes watering as he thought of his lover.
As if to berate them and warn them to take the opera seriously, the piano suddenly began playing by itself.
Hating the thought of the risqué lyrics that they were singing, the cast obediently got to work, suddenly singing the music accurately.
"Poor young maiden, you'll not see
Your lord again, for he's left your
Side, to fly to his cherie-
A fine young man, his paramour-!"
Christian stood off to the side, watching them. He didn't care anymore. A knot was growing in his throat, growing gradually tighter. He left the rehearsal hall and went to get his cloak. He could bear no more of this.
"Mama...? It's Christian..."
His voice was husky from emotion. Here, at Perros, his mother had been laid to rest. He glanced around him at the harsh, cold graveyard. Monuments and statues of angels stood about forbiddingly. His warm, loving mother had been laid to rest here? He just couldn't accept that... and her gravestone was so plain, so bare... all it said was "Adelheid Olafsdotter-Daaë". Nothing more.
Christian had ached to sneak into the graveyard with a chisel and carve more into the stone. "Beloved mother, operatic nightingale" were the main things that stood out in his mind. Alas, he could not bring himself to do so.
Ten years it had been since she had passed along. He cringed at the dreadful memory of when she was stricken by dreadful coughing in the middle of a performance... bright red blood dripped from her lips onto her dress. The audience was on their feet in moments, gasping in horror... but theirs could not match Christian's fear... he'd seen so much of her attacks of consumption, of her frantic efforts to not frighten him, to not cough in his direction...
Blinking his watery eyes, he spoke softly, hoping that she would hear.
"I hope that you hear me, mama... I wish that you could help me... forgive me, for you would be scandalized, but I am in love with a man. I know, I know that it's against what the Bible says, but this is part of who I am," he trembled at the thought of telling his mother of his "Greek" nature, even if she was dead.
"I'm aware that people think that it can be changed, but that's rubbish; I know very well that it cannot be changed. I've tried so hard to deny it, but I just couldn't fool myself. I would have been miserable being married to a woman and I'd known it for so long... marriage, for me, is not for escape and denial... I wish to be married for love, whether or not I will be able to marry the one that I truly love... I just wish that you could meet your son-in-law..."
The pain gripped his chest, knowing that what he said was true.
"He- mama, the one that I love is the self-same being that you promised that you would send to me. He is my teacher, guardian, friend... and beloved..."
He hesitated. He could not bring himself to say it, but he pressed himself to be totally honest.
"Oh mama, Erik is a very bright one. A composer and inventor, he is... and he's the dearest man that I have ever met... he's been so good to me...! I won't deny how happy that I have been with him. Erik has been discriminated against, mama, for he's been deformed since birth... he's deformed in the face... his mother had often told him that she wished that he'd died when she gave birth to him. She even sold him to a sideshow at a traveling fair to rid herself of him... he is now renowned for being the 'Phantom of the Opera'... and in the very opera house that he designed, though he has not been recognized for it... He has caused trouble around the Opera Populaire, dropping backdrops, making other odd things happen, but he's just trying to defend himself... now they want him dead-!"
He gasped heavily, trying not to break down completely.
"What's worse, Jezebelle De Chagny has found me. My intial joy has now turned to dread... She is in love with me... and she's blackmailing me; she knows about Erik and myself...! Mama, I don't know what to do-! I'm so afraid for Erik! If he dies, what will I do? Oh, mama, help me, please...!
"I- I love you, Mama...!" Christian buried his face in his hands as he knelt over her grave.
"Christian, darling, do not cry..." a familiar voice came from behind him.
"Erik?"
"Hush. 'Tis I, my angel." Erik helped Christian to his feet, gazing into his eyes the whole time. With tears for Christian stinging his own eyes, Erik opened his cape. Christian instinctively stepped into his arms.
"I have heard what went on, Christian. I know what they're trying to do to me." he crooned, stroking Christian's wavy, soft, raven hair,
"Fear not. I am fast. They will not harm me. I promise you that."
He stayed quiet, letting his beloved weep.
"You loved your mother, didn't you, Christian?"
"Very much so, Erik..."
Erik smiled his crooked smile. "I wish that I could have had that. I would have liked to meet her.. To meet who would have been my mother-in-law."
"Oh Erik...!" Christian gasped, overwhelmed.
Despite his pain, Christian felt calmer. Erik tenderly cupped the face of his weeping lover in his hand, wiping away the tears. Planting kisses over the tear trails, Erik brought this mouth closer to Christian's. For a moment in time, wrapped in Erik's strong arms, Christian forgot the anguish of that day and was at peace.
"So it's true!" a feminine voice came from nearby. Jezebelle stood there, a smirk on her mouth.
