I'm glad the last chapter got such a good response! Thank you all so much for the reviews! Some of you guys really make me laugh with your comments, especially the Raoul bashing ones. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter. Remember that it is a first meeting, though, and there is still much tension. Truthfully this story may end up a little longer than I planned. Hope that's okay with everyone! Enjoy!
With the mounds of snow greatly slowing the horses, keeping up with the carriage had been quite an easy task. Following the Vicomte into the hospital had certainly posed no problem. Once there, though, and hidden within the shadows, Erik had pondered how to go about searching. Perhaps there was a list of some sort that he could get his hands on which would tell him where Mademoiselle Daae slept.
Within minutes, he heard an argument in the vicinity and watched with great amusement as the boy was forced out into the cold by a haughty young nurse. Erik continued to make his way discreetly down the hall, even more determined to find her now that his competition had been temporarily eliminated. Looking back, he was quite pleased that he had not strayed far, for he soon heard the delightful words of the elderly nurse echoing around him...
"We did wrap a broken ankle, but I believe the young woman's name was Annette. We are still trying to locate someone who might know her. She's a rather odd girl, kind of has her head in the clouds."
And as the boy had stalked off into the snow in a huff...Erik had flown through the dark corridors and into the room that held the patients. He was certain he would have no trouble recognizing his beloved.
Several hours after the excruciating wrapping of her ankle, Christine lay quietly beneath the cotton sheets in the dark, finally beginning to drift off to sleep after the trying day. By that time, she had managed to convince herself that no sane decision could be made while she was under the turmoil of earlier. Her mind could not possibly function correctly while experiencing bouts of pain. After a good night's rest, she would have a clearer head and see things for what they really were. She would regain her reason. At least that is what she told herself right before she dipped into a peaceful unconsciousness.
Just as she had finally begun to nod off, Christine was vaguely aware of someone standing over her. With irritation, she stirred slightly but kept her eyelids firmly closed. Why couldn't the nurses leave her alone for the night? At this rate, she would never get any sleep.
Christine kept her eyes shut in hope that the nurse would take pity and not awaken her. It was at that moment, though, that a familiar chill ran through her-causing her heart beat to quicken and her muscles to tense. Instinctively, she pulled the thick wool blanket tightly around her shoulders.
Although she attempted to drift off for a second time, Christine could sense that a presence still lingered around her. Suddenly, she felt a slight pressure nudge her head and realized that someone was softly stroking her matted curls. Christine sat up with a jump, opening her eyes widely and allowing them to adjust to the darkness. She glanced around quickly and at first could see nothing out of the ordinary. Had she been dreaming?
Slowly turning to her right to take a more careful look, though, she let out a sharp gasp and moved her eyes upward. Two golden lights beamed down, emanating from the dark figure that hovered over her from above. Gripping the sheets until her knuckles turned white, it took Christine several seconds to comprehend that it was her Angel who stood by her bedside. Her body trembled with something between fear and excitement, and her breath quickened to a soft pant.
For a brief moment, she debated whether or not to let out a scream but brushed the thought rapidly aside. Anyone who rushed into that room would likely not make it back out alive, and she didn't want to upset any of the other sleeping patients. He simply stood there, arms neatly folded, continuing to watch her each distinct movement. She could not quite make out his expression in the dark, especially when it was partially obscured by the dim light reflecting off the white mask.
"Angel," Christine finally choked out in a whisper. "What...what are you doing here?" It was a ridiculous question, but all she could get herself to utter at that moment.
"You did not think you could escape me so easily, did you Christine?" he asked in the calm, mesmerizing voice that had entranced her for so many months. Silently he made his way to the end of the hospital bed, and Christine could only watch in a daze as he pulled the covers up slightly to take a quick look at her heavily wrapped ankle. He tsked several times as he gazed upon the collage of wet cotton. "Although it does seem as if you put quite a bit of effort into trying to do so."
"Now, Christine," he began looking up at her and replacing the blanket carefully. "Would you be so kind as to tell your Angel why you chose not to perform tonight? Did you not think of the consequences of your actions? You may have caused quite a catastrophe, you know?" He stared down at her from the edge of the bed, and Christine was still not able to discern his expression in the dark. How angry was he?
She gasped slightly as she went over his last statement in her mind, realizing its dire implications. "Was someone hurt tonight at the opera house?"
"You did not seem to care about that when you chose to flee." Her already pallid face grew whiter as she wondered what horrible deaths had been caused by her hasty actions, the faces of her ballet friends and her fiancé flashing rapidly through her mind. What had her Angel done that night? "Now, my dear, what were you thinking?" His question diverted her from her thoughts.
Christine hesitated for a moment before answering, looking away from his inquiring eyes. "I...I did not want anyone to get hurt tonight. There was nothing else I could do. No one gave me a choice." She choked back a slight sob as she stuttered out the words.
"And who did you think would be hurt, Christine?" he asked softly. His eyes bore into her with the pressing question, and she shifted nervously under the sheets, her heart pounding.
"Anyone...me...I do not know. Why do you torture me, Angel? What do you wish me to say to you?" At that moment Erik took her letter from his pocket and tossed it nonchalantly to her on the bed. Picking it up in her tiny hands and clumsily unfolding it, she let out a slight gasp as she realized what it was. She now knew it was very unlikely that her fiancé had ever found the note. What he must be thinking! And now Erik knew of the events that were meant to occur that night and what her motives were in escaping them. "That was for Raoul!" she exclaimed before immediately regretting it.
He sharply glared down at her at the mention of the name. "I did not notice. Tell me, though, Christine, was it your original intent to betray me tonight? Did you consider finally ridding yourself of the monster?"
She turned her head shamefully. "I did not know what to do," she said quietly. "I wished to be free, and I wished for no one to be hurt. So I left..."
Erik cautiously reached out to stroke her soft curls again. Christine did not shy away, though, only continued to lie there in thought. "Angel..." she finally spoke uncertainly. "What is your name?"
There was a silence. "Why? Are Phantom and Monster not to your liking?" She didn't say anything but frowned slightly at the words that were meant to hurt her. He sighed. "It is Erik," he finally told her. "Just Erik."
"Erik," she repeated. It felt strangely comforting giving a title to her Angel...the Phantom, as if it gave him more tangibility, more humanity.
"Now, Christine. Did you ever consider coming to me with such news of this elaborate plan, or is only your Vicomte deserving of such detailed explanations? I have no doubt that he was one of the geniuses behind the little set up. How thoughtful of him to use his fiancée as bait!"
Christine sighed in frustration, though the slight truth in the last statement did make her tense a bit. "Had I come to you, you would not have let me go. You have done nothing but deceive and terrify me in these last few months."
He glared down at her and spoke with bitterness. "And you have not lied to me, Christine? The rooftop, after Il Muto? I certainly enjoyed that display! And your engagement ring was a lovely object to add to my collectibles."
"You killed someone," she whispered turning away. "And I can marry whom I choose." She was surprised at herself for making the assertive statement in his presence."
"No," he rasped, bending down to look her straight in the eye. "You belong to me Christine. Only to me. In time, you will realize that and in time you will learn to love me. You will realize that the boy can do nothing for you, and as soon as you are able to leave, it is I who will take you. You will come back with me, and you will not leave me again."
She let out a frustrated cry and buried her head angrily into the creases of the pillow, hating the hostility that dripped from his voice and the control that he had over her. For a moment, she wished that she had betrayed him that night. Perhaps then she would have been allowed to live in peace! Keeping her face within the pillow for several minutes, she again became aware of a rush of cold air hitting her feet as the blanket was lifted. She tensed in uncertainty but felt her body relax as a set of cool, slender fingers massaged the area above and below the injury. As the soothing pressure caused the moderate pain to slowly disappear, Christine felt her anger fade as well. How could someone give her such misery and bliss at the same time?
"I shall take my leave tonight and return tomorrow night," he said sternly after a while, raising his hands from her. "It would be wise to stay silent about our little visits, for I will still come even if unwanted company is present. Remember that I shall always be watching you, though, no matter what time of day it is."
As he turned to leave, she suddenly remembered the one important question that had gone unanswered. "Erik, how many people were hurt tonight?" Christine had to know what damage she had done at this very moment, or her conscience would never allow her to sleep in peace. Inside, she prayed deeply that no harm had come to anyone she truly cared for. Just how much had Erik punished her?
He turned slightly. "Are you really that concerned, my dear?"
"Please, Erik. Please tell me what happened tonight." She stared up at him meekly from the bed, begging him with her big brown eyes to grant her mercy. Though he considered leaving her in her miserable state as she had done to him for so long, Erik decided to take pity upon her. After all, she had proven that her devotion did not lie solely to the boy. Even if she still resisted him, her confusion was quite obvious. A part of her still belonged to her Angel, whether she admitted it or not.
"Christine...because of your blatant disobedience tonight..." he began grimly before pausing, toying with her lightly as a look of devastation crossed her face, "a shoddily designed piece of scenery met its untimely fate." He left the room in an instant, leaving her shaking but with a feeling of pure relief. For a moment, she stared at the spot where he had been standing. Even as she closed her eyes and drifted into an unsettling slumber, she knew she would not tell anyone of her visitor that night.
