A/N: Thirty-five reviews for two chapters? You are too kind! I've received much deliberation about Erik's…condition. I won't address that here… -Looks away, whistling-
P.S: Here's a quick note that doesn't really matter unless you care what goes on inside my strangely obscure mind… I have always pictured my Eriks being Geriks (or Gerry!Eriks). I am fascinated by the beautiful paradox of his face (except that I picture his deformity actually being a deformity and not a third degree sunburn…) I know some phans won't agree with me on my opinions with Gerik, but as I said before, it's what goes on inside my mind. So there are a few brief descriptions that refer to Gerik (e.g. 'sleek, black hair')…but I've always liked Kay/Leroux's "golden eyes," so that stays the way it is. Basically…my Erik is Gerry with really, really cool eyes, but you can picture him anyway you like!
P.P.S: One more thing…all the chapter titles for this story will be lyrics from either the ALW movie or play. If you don't know what part a certain phrase is from, ask me in your review, which you all will most certainly be giving me… -Menacing glare- Just kidding…well, sort of…
TEACH ME TO LIVE
The presence in that place was overwhelming. For a moment, Nadir and I stood motionless in the doorway, gazing in humble awe at the man before us. He was turned way from the door, away from us, his dark hair gleaming in the flickering flames of the fireplace. His hands were clasped behind his back, and I was overcome by a sudden urge to sink to my knees before him. Surely this man was not dying, I told myself. He radiated such authority, such limitless power…perhaps he had made a mistake. He was, after all, human- an incredible one, albeit- but a human, nonetheless…capable of making errors like the rest of us.
But when he turned to face us, mask sitting securely on his face, I felt the desperate uncertainty in his prognosis evaporate. His eyes…oh God, his eyes… Gone was the burning passion and brilliance that had gazed upon me countless times before. Now, there was only a dull gleam, a mocking and cruel remnant of the former glory he possessed.
This man truly was dying.
For a moment, no one moved. Nadir and I stared at Erik, and Erik…he stared at me. There was no mistaking the utter astonishment in his expression; there was no doubt in my mind that he had, in fact, believed I would not return. I stepped towards him hesitantly, watching his eyes as they watched me. My legs carried me until I was only a few inches from him, and I could feel his warm, shuddering breath as it caressed my cheek.
With trembling hands I reached out to him, running my fingers over the cold white porcelain of his mask. His hands closed over mine, and I saw fearful apprehension in his eyes. I stared back, defiant to his hesitation, and after a moment, he wordlessly relinquished his façade. I put my hand to his cheek, and his eyelids fluttered shut for a brief instant, a sigh escaping his lips.
"You came back," he whispered, as if he did not dare believe it. "You came back…"
"How could I not?" I said, trailing my fingers past his ears and into the blackness of his hair. He did not reply, still staring at me as if he thought I would evaporate before his eyes. I withdrew my hand and opened the small satchel that hung from my shoulder. Reaching inside, I took out a small object and placed it gingerly in the center of Erik's palm. His eyes widened for a second in disbelieving confusion, then he met my gaze, silently asking for an explanation.
"It belonged to my father," I murmured, tracing the small golden ring delicately. He said nothing, his eyes locked on my own. I closed his fingers over it, holding his fist in my small hands.
"This should be on the finger of your fiancé," he said quietly, turning to look at the dancing fire. He held the ring back out to me, hand trembling against the writhing shadows thrown against the wall. "I simply wanted to give you away on the day before your wedding… Why must you make it so difficult?" I saw the single tear escape the corner of his eye.
Once again placing my hand on his cheek, I pulled his face towards my own. "This is my choice to make…" I whispered into his ear. With my other hand I put his fingers to my lips, all the while making sure not to disturb the heated connection of our gaze. The stillness was broken by his sudden shiver that caused his broad shoulders to tremble.
"No, Christine…please…" he said, his voice filled with a desperate pleading. "You cannot… You deserve so much more…" He lifted his hand to my face, not touching me, instead caressing the air beside my cheek. I watched as he fought temptation, fought it with every fiber of his strength. When I felt the smooth touch of his fingers at my skin, I closed my eyes dutifully, sucking the breath into my lungs, lips parted.
I placed my hand over his, entwining our fingers together. I looked up at him with wide, moonlike eyes. "No," I told him, "It is you who deserves more." His palm ran down the graceful curve of my neck, and I shuddered. "I chose you…please do not turn me away again."
He looked once again at the flames as they dipped and twirled with violent, twisted beauty against the approaching darkness. He held his hand out before me with a swiftness that should not have surprised me, and laying next to my father's ring was a simple yet elegant silver wedding band. I knew immediately, without any explanation, that this was the ring Erik had picked out and bought for me those countless months before…
"Monsieur Nadir…" I called hesitantly over my shoulder. The Persian's head snapped up, instantly alert. "Would you…?" He came towards us, glancing between Erik and I.
"Mademoiselle?" he asked, his eyes settling on Erik as he addressed me apprehensively.
"Would you stand here…as a witness?" I placed the mask, suddenly overwhelming in its immensity, into his arms. "As a witness before God?" His eyes flickered to Erik, whose gaze was unwavering from my face. Nadir nodded slowly, disbelief still glimmering in his eyes. "Thank you." I pressed the golden ring into Erik's palm, his fingers closing over it. Slowly, with trembling hands, he pulled the ring onto his fourth finger. I felt the powerful sensuality of his movements hold me steadily as I watched the band fall into place.
He turned his eyes to me, the golden irises calling out to me in the darkness, and placed the silver ring into my palm. When I slipped it onto my finger, I found it to be a perfect fit.
Erik would have had nothing less.
Taking his face gently in my hands, I pulled him down to me, meeting my lips to his forehead. Slowly, carefully, I moved over his skin, feeling every imperfection melt beneath my touch. I kissed his eyelids, first the left, then the right, tasting the bitter sweetness of his tears on my mouth. Following their tracks, I found my way to his mouth.
His response to the union of our lips was deliciously exciting… He pulled me closer to him, wrapping his arms around my body and trailing his fingers over the back of my neck. When we broke apart, I felt his shuddering breath float past my face, his lips mere inches from my cheek.
And there, with no priest and no words, I was married to my Angel.
I heard Nadir leave the room, but I did not acknowledge his departure. Erik held me to him, stroking my hair and whispering into my ear. The warmth emitted from the glowing fireplace was nothing compared to this sensation that pulsed through my body…a strangely foreign yet beautifully mesmerizing sense of home. I buried my head in his chest.
I felt a sudden tremor pass through him, and his fingers dug violently into my back. Horrified, I looked up at him and saw his face, contorted in pain, rapidly draining its color. His hand flew to his chest, clawing at the black jacket that separated flesh from flesh.
He doubled over, falling to one knee before me, and in an instant I was beside him, caught by my sudden terror, my mind blank as to what to do. He reached out to me, pulling me towards him. "It will pass…" he hissed through gritted teeth, voice strained, and I wondered briefly if he was saying this to comfort me or to encourage himself. "It will pass…"
Panicking, I turned back to the door, wanting to call out for Nadir, but I felt his strong grip on my shoulder. "No…" he whispered, and I saw him struggle for air, folding his arms across his chest. His breathing had gone rapid and shallow, but the color was returning to cheeks, his face returning to the expression of peace it had been only a few minutes before.
I was thrown back into the reality of his touch, overcome by this haunting glimpse into the future. This would happen again… He got to his knees hesitantly, his palms steadied against the wooden floor. I curled myself around his arm, holding him to my breast as a tear slid smoothly down my cheek. "It's not fair… Why now, just when I finally realize that I'm ready?" I sobbed quietly into his sleeve. "You cannot leave me again, Erik…"
He pulled me to him, settling me in his lap as we clutched each other on the cold, numb floor. His hand ran down the length of my hair, his unstable breaths still echoing in my ears. Slowly, I helped him up and led him to the bed, crawling beside him and laying my head on his chest. I felt his heartbeat throb against the inner caverns of my mind, slowly returning to the steady beating of a healthy man. If only he were, I thought to myself.
For a few moments, we lay there, side by side, both consumed by our own mind's reflections. "Erik?" I whispered, looking up at him.
"Yes?"
I pulled myself up by my elbows, legs folded neatly beneath me. "I brought you something…" Reaching into my bag, I withdrew the black leather journal and held it to my chest.
The faintest of smiles crossed his lips. "No invitation?" he asked, his voice so low that it could have passed for a whisper.
The corners of my mouth turned upward slightly, but my eyes remained distant and somber. "There is no need for an invitation when the wedding will not take place," I murmured.
Erik pushed himself up against the headboard, staring at me. "You and the Vicomte…?" he demanded. I turned my eyes to the deep emerald blanket that stretched across the bed, not replying. "Whose idea was this, Christine?" His voice was hoarse, but the sternness was unmistakable. "Was it his?"
"No… It was ultimately my decision…" I said quietly. Those golden eyes…they demanded truth. And so, truth was what I gave. I told him of my weeks in Raoul's guest home, those days I spent thinking only of my Angel, my Erik…my encounter with what proved to be Raoul's weak point: his pride. I had not forgotten, I had not hurriedly put the ordeal out of my mind… And so, Raoul had viewed my commitment as his own failure.
I told Erik how I had been given a second chance at my decision, and I had chosen correctly.
He was silent for a moment, stroking my hand absentmindedly. When he realized what he was doing, he quickly withdrew his arm, but I pulled him back, entwining my fingers with his. I placed the journal on his lap, my fingertips trailing across the cover. He looked up at me questioningly, but he did not voice his inquiries. By the flickering light of the candle at his bedside, he began to read my innermost thoughts, those details which I could never have said out loud. At times he flipped the pages after only a moment or two, presumably when I had written of Raoul…and yet sometimes he read and reread certain passages, mouthing the words to himself. I settled my head back against his chest once again, finding relief and comfort in the steady ticking of his heartbeat.
After a while my eyes drifted shut, and I dreamt of a voice calling out to me, whispering my name into the darkness…
A/N: No, it's not over…remember, I still have to live up to that rating… Sorry about the brevity of this chapter; the next ones should be longer.
