A/N: Someone said that Erik would not be so cruel to Christine because he loves her. Well, the point of this story is that he does NOT love her.
There must be hundreds of Erik-loves-Christine-everyone's-happy-stories out there. This is the one that is different, and if that bites your arse, I'm not forcing you to read it. But of course you are free to leave criticism and comments as you want. I just wanted to point out that the whole point of this story is that Erik used Christine and that he does not love her. Sorry for the rambling.
The boy was clearly taking his time. She had moved back into the darkness quite some time ago, and yet there was no sign of him.
Even though she seemed calm and collected on the outside, her mind was racing.
Too much had happened, too much had been unexpected. She did not remember the last time she had not been worried about him or someone else. First, when she had known nothing about what she had just found out, she had often felt sick with fear of what might happen if the stupid girl did not follow his instructions to the letter. Once again she marvelled at the amazing performance he had set up. Not even she, who had known him for almost all his life, had been able to see through his antics.
Then, she had been worried about him. When she had learned of the plan to capture him during the play, she had tried to warn him, several times, but the iron gates leading to his lair had been closed.
Knowing him in such danger and not being able to do anything about it had been more than she could stand. She hated to be forced into inaction. She could only feel safe when she had control over the situation.
But he had managed to escape. The short wave of relief had come to a sudden halt when the boy had come to her. Again, she had feared for her phantom.
The fact that the Opera House above them was burning to the grounds had not even yet reached her mind. She was too busy wondering why he had not involved her in his plans, why he had not told her.
She suddenly noticed that the girl had awoken and was now accusing him of being a soulless, heartless beast, just as everybody else had always done. He had been right. She was nothing special, nothing but a pretty face and a pretty voice. The boy could have her.
Now that she knew he was only playing his games, she could fully appreciate his performance. While the girl ranted, his face showed no emotion, except for a slightly amused smirk that was hardly visible if one did not know where to look. When she became silent and looked at him, his face turned into a mask of agony. Had she not known better, she could not have told that he was not deeply wounded by the girl's harsh words. True, he did suffer from the way people had treated him, or he would nt have been where he was, but he would never let mere words get to him like that.
He turned around, and she got a better view of his face. In his eyes she could see that he was fighting to keep himself from laughing. She got an idea of how amusing it must have been for him to 'gain the respect of the new managers'. She smirked. It had not been that amusing for everybody. Once again she remembered the terrible fear she had felt over the last few months.
Suddenly, he turned towards the sea and smiled triumphantly. "I believe, my dear, we have a guest!"
The boy had finally managed to find his way.
