All right, you all know that this is chapter nine, but I'm just going to type that up here for my own reference…
There will probably only be two or three more chapters, not counting the epilogue. The epilogue isn't going to be much, mostly an excuse for a big, long, A/N & thank-you note.
And… I know that I said we'd get to see Raoul's side of the story, ect, and I really want to do that, but I don't know how. This might make the story a bit two dimensional, and I really wanted to show his POV, but I don't know how to pull it off… sorry!
The lyrics are from the song Lying From You by Linkin Park.
I wanna be pushed aside
So let me go
No/no turning back now
Let me take back my life
I'd rather be all alone
No turning back now
Anywhere on my own
'Cause I can see
No/no turning back now
The very worst part of you
Is me
-Linkin Park
-"Meg?" she heard her mother's voice from the back of the house. "Who's at the door?"
Meg heard her mother's footsteps approaching the door.
"Child, what-" she gasped, seeing what Meg was looking at. "Christine!" she knelt, picking her up. "Meg, help me bring her inside."
Not knowing what else to do, Meg grabbed her (what exactly was Christine to her now? They were certainly no longer friends) ankles so that her legs were not trailing on the ground.
They lay Christine down on the bed in the guest room. "Meg, get some water and clean cloth. And fetch one of your nightdresses, they should fit Christine."
Meg didn't want to become involved in this- but she had become involved the minute she opened the door, hadn't she? And- as much as she might hate her now- Christine had been her best friend.
"Goodness child, what are you standing there for?" her mother asked. "Hurry up now!"
Meg hurriedly dashed from the room. She hadn't told her mother about Christine's snub of her, she hadn't had the heart to. She'd made up excuses as to why they didn't see each other ('She's on vacation', 'The life of a Vicomtess is very busy, Maman') and lied, telling her that they did. ('We had lunch when you were out of town') So of course she could not tell her mother that she was angry with Christine.
When she returned with the items Madame Giry had bade her fetch, they changed Christine into Meg's nightdress and cleaned her up.
"She doesn't appear to have any serious injuries, but she's been horribly beat up." Her mother said. "I must send a message to her husband at once."
She made to leave the room.
"Wait!" Meg said.
"Meg, dear, what is it?" her mother hurried over to her. "You've gone white."
Meg gulped, remembering things she had heard shortly after Christine had married the Vicomte. The whispers in the Opera House, expressing concern for Christine over certain aspects of the Vicomte that were appearently discussed quite often in the tabloids. Aspects that involved the way he treated women.
Meg had refused to believe any of this, and had worked very hard to make sure that none of these rumors reached the blissfully ignorant ears of her friend. As she looked at Christine lying on the bed, still unconscious however, she couldn't help but wonder who had done that to her friend- and if she would be here at all if she had married the Vicomte.
"Don't tell the Vicomte!" Meg exclaimed.
"But why ever not?"
"Because I think this may be his fault." She said softly.
-"Damn." Erik muttered. He had been crouching in the bushes outside the De Chagny mansion for ten minutes and had seen nothing of Christine or that damned Vicomte. From what he could gather, they were away, but where, and for how long, he did not know.
He would have arrived earlier if Nadir had not stopped by, claiming to be "concerned" about him, and his hasty departure the other day. It had taken him nearly half an hour to make him see that there was nothing wrong.
Gradually, Erik became aware of the sound of hooves hitting the main path to the mansion. He turned around and saw a man on a horse. As the man drew closer, he realized it was the Vicomte. As he rode around the house in the direction of the stables, Erik followed, keeping under cover.
The Vicomte gave his horse to a servant and hurried to the garden. There was an elaborately dressed man sitting at a small table.
"Sorry I'm late, Antoine." The Vicomte said. "I had something to take care of."
"Nothing too unpleasant, I hope?" his friend asked with a smug grin.
Erik leaned forward slightly, careful not to give away his position in the bushes.
"Not too. It is tiresome, however, when people do not listen to you."
The other man agreed.
"How many times have I told her?" the Vicomte continued. "But appearently she has continued associating with that little ballerina friend of hers…"
Erik noticed that, as he talked, he made extravagant motions with his hands. He was wearing a white shirt with large sleeves. On one sleeve, there was a smear. A smear that was red in color. He swallowed. He was very familiar with that shade of the color red.
That was all he needed to see. Quietly moving away from the bushes, he made his way off the grounds, and across the city to Madame Giry's house.
-Christine returned to consciousness with a groan. She hurt everywhere, not a sharp pain, but a dull, sickening ache, which was worse.
Slowly she became aware that she was in unfamiliar surroundings. The last thing she remembered was passing out on Meg's doorstep. She seemed to have a knack for waking up- all right, returning to consciousness- in old friend's homes.
There was a noise at the door. The aforementioned door shook a bit, but seemed disinclined to open. She heard a familiar voice say- "Oh, come on!" and then an exasperated-looking Meg was entering.
Christine turned her head to look at her, unsure as to where they stood after their argument.
"Oh- you're awake. I'll get mother- and- well, someone's here who'll want to see you." she hurriedly departed.
That was awkward. She thought, sitting up. I wonder who's here… something occurred to her. Her heart sank. Raoul? No, it can't be him, he'd have no excuse for knowing where I was, and I'm sure he wants to make it look as if he had nothing to do with this-
Her thoughts were interrupted, however, by the arrival of Madame Giry, who seemed to be telling someone to wait in the hallway.
"So you're awake are you?" she asked.
"Erm- yes." Christine didn't quite know what to say. She'd shunned the Giry's for months, yet Madame Giry acted as though nothing had happened.
"Well that's good." She replied, opening the drapes. Christine blinked as sunlight invaded the room. "You gave us an awful fright when we found you. Meg feels horrid, she said she'd slammed the door on you and there you were three minutes later all beat up-" she stopped. "When Meg told me she thought your husband had done this- well, I didn't believe it. But then Erik showed up- somehow he knew you were here- and he told us everything." She sat down on the bed beside Christine. "I'm real sorry."
"Erik's here?" she asked stupidly.
"He's right outside. Shall I fetch him?"
"Please." Christine replied. She suddenly felt very small.
In a moment she had gone, and Erik entered. "I certainly hope," he fixed her with an intense gaze. "That this has motivated you to leave him."
Christine looked down at her lap. "I can't." she said softly.
He gave an exasperated sigh, pulling up a chair and sitting in it. "Why not?"
"Well- I- I mean… I know you want to help me, but, you- the way I feel about you…" she didn't know how to say it.
"Oh. I see. You don't want anything to do with me."
She sighed- he'd misunderstood. "Erik, that's not what I meant-"
But he wasn't listening. "It's a horrible choice isn't it? Choosing between someone who's a monster on the outside- and one who's a monster on the inside."
She didn't say anything.
"I don't want you hurt anymore." He said gently.
"Then go away.' She told him.
"What?"
"Leave me- can't you see I want you to?"
"What are you talking about?"
"I had to make a choice last year- between true love and a life doomed to become a horrible sham of an existence."
Erik stiffened- it was clear he thought she meant that she had chosen the first.
"And I looked true love in the eye- and then spat on it."
She gave him a moment to work through what she'd said. When he had figured it out (which didn't take long; he was a genius) an expression of such hope came on to his face (the half of it that she could see, anyway) that if she had not been completely miserable would have made her grin.
"You mean-"
She gulped. Her heart was pounding, and she felt a bit sick. But she had to do this… "Erik," she said. "I- I love you-" He looked hopeful again. She felt thoroughly miserable. "But," she continued, unable to meet his eyes. "You should forget all about me. You deserve better." There. The deed was done- yet she was more miserable than before.
-I know the cut-off at the end is a bit clinched, and I didn't want to leave it off there, but I just really wanted to get something up…
The next chapter should be up in a few days.
