Disclaimer: I do not own POTO or any of the characters.
Summary: Christine and Erik pay a visit to her father's grave and are met by a visitor.
A/N: Meghan and Brittany I love you both! And thanks to all my reviewers!
Christine pulled her black cloak tighter around her shoulders as she shivered from the bitter cold. Erik silently drove the carriage onward and she could see him sitting there, reins in hand, looking deep in thought. She wondered it he was thinking about her. If he was, she hoped it was something good. She couldn't bear the thought of causing him pain. He'd already been through so much. He deserved happiness more than anyone else she knew.
It was very early in the morning, perhaps five or six o'clock. The cemetery was deserted, except for the two of them. Christine walked solemnly along the path well known to her from her many visits. Erik cleared his throat nervously. He did not often venture outside the security of the opera house, and was always slightly ill at ease whenever he did so. He couldn't imagine Christine was taking him anywhere dangerous, especially when she had made the journey so frequently on her own, but he still felt out of place. This was beyond his domain. Inside the walls of the Opera Populaire, he ruled like a king, a king who knew every inch of his kingdom by heart, and who had the obedience of his subjects, even if it was obtained by fear. He felt so exposed out in the open air. He's seen more than his fair share of the cruelties of the world, and was reluctant to travel into a place that his been so unkind to him in his youth.
Christine felt crystalline tears slide silently down her cheeks as she set down the bouquet of roses she'd been carrying in front of the imposing tomb. The structure was very familiar to her, and yet she feared it. To her, it represented what waited ahead inevitably for everyone, even those she cared about, especially herself. Christine had been religiously raised, and it was said she was a very pious young woman, but she had always feared death, just as most mortals do. When she stood there and stared at death, seemingly head on, for the first time in her memory she felt no fear. She realized she'd been wrong about the source of her terror all these years. It had never been dying she feared at all. I don't want to die alone. She thought forcefully.
Today there was no danger of a lonely death. Erik was here with her. He would be always by her side if she asked it of him, and she suspected, even if she did not. She wondered momentarily if he feared a lonely death. The answer that came to mind surprised her. He never feared it because he had always accepted it as his fate. He was a monster, destined to live forever in the bowels of an opera house, with nothing but his music for company. She shook her head as she remembered his words as he talked about his masterpiece, his opera. "Sometimes I work on it for weeks without stopping. Then I rest for years at a time. When it is finished I shall go to sleep and never wake up."
She shivered again, although this time, not from the cold. She thought to ask him how felt about his masterpiece finally making its Paris debut. She knew the female lead had been written especially for her, but she knew too that the male lead was written for his voice specifically. They had never sung it together and it seemed that now they never would. She would pour her heart out to Pianji on stage, in front of hundreds of people, and she wished that just once, they could all see whom her heart truly belonged to. She wished that Erik could appear before them all and show them what he could do. There was no one as talented as he was, and as wonderful as his music was no matter what, it was even more stunning when he performed it himself.
He had such passion for his work, and she wondered if anyone else were to play Aminta if he would have the same display of open affection for the character. Part of her hoped not, for the sake of her own pride. She felt privileged to be the woman she wanted, she above all others. He'd watched over her since childhood, diligently keeping her out of harm's way. But now he was so much more than her protector. He was her lover, and her beloved, her fiancée after all. He was so much to her it was difficult to put it all into words, but in short he was hers. The world may have cast him out all those years ago, but regardless of the hideousness of his face, which after she got over the initial shock of seeing her angel's perfect features marred in such a way, she accepted him into her heart with out question. She couldn't recall ever feeling as happy and content as she did on the occasions, of which there were all too few, that they were together. She felt like herself, and yet she didn't. It was like when Erik had been her angel she'd still been Christine, but now that Erik was just her Erik instead, she was a new and improved Christine.
No one else appeared to have noticed, but she could see the change in herself. When she gazed at her reflection, her cheeks seemed rosier, her lips redder, her skin no longer held a deathly pallor, although she was still pale. Her hair seemed to shine and her body seemed to radiate with a boundless energy all its own. It was strange how being loved by an angel could affect someone. Christine ceased to notice the things that had before bothered, and perhaps even terrified her. She smiled at everyone and was always ready to make polite conversation. Her performances, even those at practice, were even more enthralling than the fateful night she sang at the gala. There were rumors that she was having a love affair with the Vicomte de Chagney, although anyone who knew her easily laughed them off. All one had to do was listen to her talk about the Vicomte, and it was obvious she thought of him as nothing more than an old friend, if that. Sometimes her eyes would grow glazed, and she would stare wistfully out into space, as though the person she was truly thinking of might be right near by, which in fact, more often than not, he was. Sometimes when no one else was looking, Madame Giry would smile knowingly at the girl whom she had raised since childhood, and silently say a prayer of thanks that she and Erik had found each other. They really were perfectly matched in most ways. They were both shy, despite the fact that they worked in the arts, and they had both, at one point or another, felt and rather hoped to be, forgotten by the world.
Erik waited silently for his future bride to finish her business here so they could be on their way. It wasn't that be minded accompanying her, in fact he preferred it that way. He could at least ensure her safety, while making certain no other man so much as looked at her in a manner that suggested impropriety. It was just that his porcelain mask quickly began to feel like ice against his skin, and couldn't risk removing it here. He saw his angel's eyes flicker on him for moment, just before she smiled, and he took it as an indication that she'd been thinking of him pleasantly. Until now he hadn't known thoughts of him could be pleasant.
Christine gave her bonnet one final adjustment before she turned to Erik, and he took her arm leading her out of the cemetery. Just as they reached the carriage a figure stepped into their path.
"Raoul!" Christine gasped, startled by his sudden appearance. "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same question," he answered sounding slightly hurt, "especially after I sat guard by your dormitory all of last night so as to ensure your protection." Christine tried to keep the smile that threatened to tug at the corners of her mouth at bay. She hadn't been in her dormitory since early last night, but he needn't know that.
"Protect me?" She asked using her best acting skills to feign surprise. "What did you feel you needed to protect me from? I'm in no danger." Although you might be if you continue to refuse my request that we remain apart. Very apart. She added silently. "I wasn't even aware of your presence last night." That was a lie, but her hope was that once he saw that his effort to appear masculine and protective of her had come to nothing he would cease to try to impress her. He could never compare to Erik. Indeed she had noticed his presence when she tiptoed out of the dorm for her "nightly visit" with Erik. She'd nearly jumped out of her skin at the sight of him. Although Erik was a far more imposing figure, and if she had been anyone else he might have frightened her to no end, she usually had some idea when he was lurking close by. She expected it, she was prepared. She had been totally shocked to find her childhood friend asleep at the entrance to her dorm. It was a sweet gesture she knew, but somehow she couldn't help seeing it come across as more pathetic than anything else.
Suddenly Raoul unsheathed his sword and lunged at Erik. Thankfully Erik was quick on his feet and managed to dodge the blow. He too pulled out his sword and so the duel began. Christine let out a scream that was likely to wake the dead, but it did no good. Raoul would not stop his attack, and she could hardly ask Erik to stop fighting without being killed. It was impossible to tell who was on the winning side. Erik seemed to have the upper hand, but he Raoul never gave him a chance to be on the offensive. Erik finally out maneuvered him, and stabbed him in the arm, leaving a long and bloody gash in his wake. Raoul cried out in pain, and almost succeeded in eliciting a feeling of sympathy from Christine. She didn't think she could do anything that might lead to the destruction of someone whom she had known since childhood. Someone her father had let into their home. Someone her father had trusted with her. She didn't think she could, but then he had Erik on the ground, and a sword was pointed at his throat. Christine looked in the eyes of her beloved and saw the fear in his eyes. Not the fear of dying, but the fear of leaving her behind. He had faced the world without her, but how could she face it without him. Even with his last breath he as looking out for her, just as he had always done.
Christine looked in the eyes of the man she once knew, a long time ago. She didn't know him now. This was not the Raoul who'd rescued her scarf in her childhood, this was another man. It had to be. She didn't see adoration when she looked at him. She saw lust, lust for her, and lust for blood. As frightening as Erik could be, especially when he was at his most intense, he was nothing like this. She knew in that moment that she had to make a choice, but in a fraction of a second later she knew that the choice had already been made for her. She couldn't stand and watch Erik die. She would take his place if she had to. Before Raoul could plunge the cold steel into the throat of the masked man Christine threw herself on him with every ounce of strength she had in her body. He went limp after he hit the ground. At first she was afraid he was dead. It wasn't until Erik pulled her off of him and pointed out that he was still breathing, albeit shallowly, that she could even move to get into the carriage.
She didn't give one thought to the opera house until it came into view hours later. They had dropped Raoul off at the hospital, and Christine had insisted they stay, just to make sure he was all right. Erik wanted to leave, and not that she could blame him, but she needed to make sure he was ok, for the sake of her own conscience. Once he regained consciousness she was out in a flurry of petticoats. It wasn't until then she realized that if she had killed him, she would have gone on. It would have been a choice she made, and she would have gone on making more choices. That was how she knew for certain that their lives were no longer intertwined, not like her and Erik's. If he had died that morning in the cemetery, she would have died with him.
She had too much on her mind to bother checking the cast list once she got back. She was probably in the chorus anyway. It wasn't until her friend, Meg Giry, informed her that she was to play the lead, Aminta, that she even knew what the opera was. It was Erik's opera, his masterpiece, his dream. Christine's face, red and tear streaked from the wear and tear of the day, finally shone with happiness. She should go and congratulate him on his triumph. He'd always been there to share in hers.
A/N: Thanks to my beta Hurlasquirrel2 for taking me to see the movie yet again. I owe you one!