I of course do not own the "Pitiful Creature of Darkness" verse from "Down once More", but I do own "Don't Play These Games", and
Author's Note: this story is a mix of poetry and song, so it is a little difficult to comprehend. I've tried to let you know who is singing and when, so that should help break it down. Incase you don't know where we left off, Christine has once again entered the Phantom's lair, only to find him deeply depressed and very, very ill. She is feeling overcome with guilt for breaking his heart, and doesn't really know what she feels at this point. Well, that is where I leave you. Happy reading (and singing)!
She had once again stayed in the Phantom's lair overnight. This cold, dismal place filled with secrets and betrayal. And here in front of her was this pitiful dark creature…its face stained with tears, white with illness, and creased with worried, sleepless wrinkles. The Phantom of the Opera was very ill indeed.
"Come, you need to lie down." Christine said, bringing herself out of her trance.
"Hmm?" the Phantom said sleepily.
She helped this pitiful creature into his bed, and sat him up a little with pillows. "Don't fall back all the way…I don't want you blacking out."
"Thank you, Christine." He was too weak to let his pride get to him.
She felt his face. His fever had gone down some, but he was still quite warm. "You're a little better, but still feverish. How do you feel?"
"I've felt this way ever since that night, my dear."
Christine fought her tears back. Was this man trying to smother her in guilt? Well, she probably deserved it. "You'll feel better soon." Christine bent down and kissed him innocently on the cheek. In the Phantom's eyes, there was a spark of happiness.
"Pitiful creature of darkness,
What kind of life have you known?
God gave me courage to show you…
You are not alone!"
Christine smiled and backed away. "I must leave you now. But I will be back by nighttime. Nobody will see me; nobody will know where I'm going. Don't worry."
The Phantom looked at her with unsure eyes. He sang the well-known phrase with all the beauty in his voice. "Promise me that all you say is true."
"I promise you," Christine said.
"Thank you, Christine. That's all I ask of you." His eyelids slid shut, and he was fast asleep.
It had taken the best of lies to convince Raoul that she was just staying a bit longer to practice. Raoul respected her work and knew that she wanted it to be perfect, so he had let her stay without a fuss. After all, marriage was about understanding, wasn't it?
When Christine once again entered the tunnels and lakes in the bowels of the Opera House, she found that the boat was back in place. She rowed herself deeper into the Phantom's lair, trying her best not to let the boat topple over. When she returned, the Phantom was at his organ, playing his music, Don Juan.
"Are you feeling better?" she asked, a little frightened for some reason. If the Phantom was well again, there was no telling what he was capable of doing.
The Phantom waited awhile before answering. "…Much."
"That's…good." Christine neared him.
The man with the mask suddenly spun around. He began to sing a song that did not rhyme at all. Christine could tell that he hadn't given this one any thought. It was just words spewing out of his mouth. Angry, worried words.
"Christine, don't play these games with me.
Christine, don't put on this act.
Don't toy with me, my dear,
Tell me…
Is all that you said before
At all the truth?"
Christine didn't know quite how to react. She chose the words to her song carefully.
"I poured out my heart to you,
Gave you my mind and my soul.
I swear, everything I've told you is true.
I meant every word,
It came from the heart.
I swear to you,
I swear to you."
The Phantom nodded and stood, a little wobbly. "I hear you sing, my dear."
Christine looked at him curiously. "You still listen?"
"Your voice fills the chambers below the Opera. I cannot help but listen. You are doing very well, my dear, but you still need practice."
"Thank you?" Christine didn't know if this was a compliment or an insult.
The phantom turned and fiddled with loose papers. He was nervous, she could tell. Christine thought back to when she had first seen his face. To her first memories of this mysterious man she knew almost nothing about…
"I don't believe I ever learned your name," she suddenly blurted out.
The Phantom turned to look at her. "What?"
"You never told me your name…Will you tell me your name?"
He stood silently, thinking it over as if his name was some vile secret that nobody should know of. His lips parted slowly and he whispered his name. "Erik."
"Erik?"
"Yes…" he thought back. It had been so many years since someone had called him Erik. Now he was the Opera Ghost, and to Christine, the Angel of Music.