Chapter 5: Not As She'd Planned

It was evening at last. The Phantom would be awake now, going about his business writing music, singing, and whatever else he did when he was alone.

It was time for Christine to do what she'd come to.

"Deep breaths, Christine," she told herself.

Christine glanced at herself in the mirror. Not too shabby, she thought. Her hair and make-up were done to perfection and you could barely tell her knees were quaking beneath her long skirt.

Just one little niggle... Did Meg really think she looked pregnant? Surely she hadn't gained that much weight since she'd left the Opera! Christine stood in front of the mirror and turned to one side. She ran her hand along her stomach. It was impossible, of course... But maybe she should cinch her corset a wee bit tighter just in case. After all, she didn't want to look flabby in front of Erik.

All right. All set. Christine looked at her reflection in the mirror. She looked scared.

"You can do this," she told her reflection. "You can do it."

Her reflection gave a determined nod. Good. She moved the box of props to one side and opened the mirror-door. She stepped inside the secret passageway.

"Musky," she noted. "Just like old times..."

As if sleepwalking, she followed the passage. Before she knew it, she was walking alongside the underground river.

"Erik?" she called out.

God, this was weird. Just like her dream. She half expected him to turn up behind her, breathing his hot breath down her neck.

Hmmm, come to think of it, that didn't sound half bad.

"Erik?" she squeaked out. "Are you down here?"

And then she saw him. Erik. The Phantom. Half-asleep on his chair, slumped over his organ. She stared at him. He was there. He was alive. He was right in front of her.

What if he didn't want to see her? But that was silly. After all, he'd said he loved her, right? And she was always glad to see people she loved. He would probably be glad.

Yes. Glad. All right then.

"Erik?" she called tentatively. "Erik, it's me..."

The figure stirred.

"Christine?"

Erik looked up from the organ. When he saw her figure, he straightened in his chair. First shock and then confusion ran across his face. He blinked at her. Christine smiled. He looked like a little boy who'd just woken up from a nap to find he'd been presented with a shiny new bicycle.

"Hello," she smiled. "It's good to see you."

"Christine...is that...is that..." he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

How sweet, she thought. He was so happy to see her he couldn't believe his eyes. He'd probably run over and hug her at any moment. Why, within the hour they'd be chatting it up and writing music just like they used to. Why he probably...

"YOU!" he bellowed, rising from his chair. "YOU! CHRISTINE! What the hell are YOU doing here!"

His gaze turned from a soft look of mild confusion to a harsh look of violent rage. He stormed around his chair, tossing sheets of music down around him in a fit of fury.

Christine took a step backward in confusion.

"Erik...?"

"You," he shook his head. "You." He looked up. "It's really you, isn't it?"

"Yes..." she said. "It's me. It's Christine."

"Damn you!" he roared. "Damn you!" He knocked down a small table. "Can't you leave me in peace! You've already ruined my life once! Wasn't that enough for you, you witch!"

He was angry? Angry wasn't good.

"Well, I, um," Christine started to back away. "I actually wanted to apologize for that."

"'Apologize?'" This time it was Erik's turn to step back. He quickly recovered. "Apologize?"

Erik stomped over to Christine and grabbed her by the front of her dress. Christine screamed and closed her eyes. His grip held firm.

"The only way you can apologize to me is in my bed," he hissed.

"But I belong to Raoul," Christine cried. "I'm married to him. I love him! You know that!"

"You waste your devotion!" Erik yelled. "You should have loved me!"

"But I..."

Christine was at a loss. Erik snorted in disgust. Stupid girl. He lifted her up in his arms and carried her roughly towards his bed. He plopped her down with a resounding thud. Christine gasped to regain her wind. Erik was already unbuttoning his shirt.

"What...what are you doing?" Christine asked, frightened, yet strangely intrigued.

"This is where you belong," Erik said as if he hadn't heard her. "Here. With me. This is where you've always belonged: with me. In my bed. Not that stupid boy. Not your precious Raoul. I'll show you what you should have known all along."

"You can't!"

"These years of torture," Erik continued. "I'll take out my pain on your body. I'll make you feel the pain that you left me with. Your body will be racked with my pain! You'll beg for me to stop. Beg for my love. Beg for forgiveness..."

"What are you asking of me?" Christine whispered, backing up against the backboard of the bed.

For the first time, Erik looked her straight in the eyes.

"Not asking, my angel," he said cooly. "Demanding."

Chapter 6: Begging And Pleading