Chapter 14

Meg sighed. It hurt her to see her friend like this. "Christine, stop this nonsense. Get up and go back to him, you wanted him so badly," She grabbed Christine's arm and tugged her gently, "Come on now."

"No, Meg, I will not. Just leave me be. Sorry but I am not in a good mood."

"What is bothering you?"

"Nothing."

"Oh, what an answer."

Christine shook her arm out of Meg's hand and puffed. Meg shook her head, "Okay then. But you should get up, anyhow. It is almost time for rehearsals for Hannibal. You already missed a few and the managers are regretting their choice; you may not be the star."

"I never asked to be, Meg. As I do recall, you put me up to it."

"Christine, please, you are acting ridiculous. Nothing like yourself, tell me what happened.

"No! And I will not go to rehearsal either!" Christine hollered and with that, she took the pillow and put it over her head.

The ballet dancers exit stage after practising for a few hours to rest. They were very exhausted and Meg approached Madame Giry, "Mother, about Christine-" She began.

"I know. There is something the matter with Miss Daae, I know."

Meg was shocked. "How do you know?"

"I received a letter, from the... 'Opera Ghost'. Miss Daae was with him during her absence."

"What did the letter tell you?"

"He assured that Christine's singing is improving and she dazzle the audience the night of Hannibal... he also informed me that Christine may not be acting like her usual self, however."

"So he was responsible for this! Do you know what he has done?"

Solemnly, Madame Giry shook her head. "I don't know what the problem is. Perhaps you could go to Monsieur Phantom about it."

Meg stared at her mother with a befuddled look in her eyes. She shrugged and responded, "How am I to do that?"

After rehearsal, Madame Giry lead Meg to Christine's dressing room. Meg glanced at her mother, very confused. Madame Giry stepped over to the large mirror. She slid the mirror open, revealing the passageway to Erik's domain. Meg gasped and Madame Giry motioned her in, "This is the way to the Opera Ghost's lair. However, there is an lake that you must cross; if there is a boat, take it, if there is not, I am sure his all-hearing ears will catch your hollers."

Meg's eyebrow raised; she was more confused than ever but she nodded and Madame Giry allowed Meg to step in. She closed the door with a soft thud and on the other side of the mirror, Meg saw her mother give her a nod and turn away.

Meg walked hurriedly, her eyes wandering about. The walls were wet and slimy, a few rats scurrying at her feet. She followed the stonepath that she could only see because of the candles that were around. Eventually, she noticed a body of water in front of her. There, she thought, 'This must be the lake Mother was speaking of.' Meg searched the area around her with her eyes but found no boat. Disappointed, she heaved a sigh.

'I am sure his all-hearing ears will catch your hollers.'

Meg remembered what her mother had advised her to do before she journeyed down the Phantom's dwelling place. With that, she sucked in all the air she could and shouted his name...

Elsewhere, I was sitting at my organ, minding myself. I was playing and writing music as I usually did. I slammed my hands on the organ, scowling when I heard something ringing through my home. Somebody's voice. I could not determine what was said, but then, a louder scream echoed throughout my lair and I heard that it was my name. The only people that I am assuming know my real name are Madame Giry and Christine. I suppose that it is Christine calling to me as Madame Giry never comes to me; it is usually me to her. Still, it was difficult to tell whose voice was beckoning for me.

Yet, I smile to myself, hopes high that it is Christine returning to me. I shove my boat into the water, step in and row towards the voice.

As I get closer to her, I am sure that it is not Christine's voice. I frown. I was hoping to scold Christine for yelling so loudly, which may have damaged her voice which would then make her apologise. Although that doesn't sound very becoming, she apologises in such an adorable manner when she immediately decides that she has made me unhappy. Afterwards, it would have been a perfect time to comfort her with a soft embrace, a few gentle words, and perhaps a passionate kiss.

I rowed sluggishly for a few minutes until hitting the shore, interrupting my thoughts. I hopped out of the boat and dropped the oar beside it. I looked over to see Meg, and I recalled all the uncomfortable moments I have had with her. With a huff, I approached her, grumbling, "What is it?"

"Please pardon me, Monsieur Phantom," I grunted and she continued. "But I just thought that I should tell you about Christine. She is not doing so well," She said, shaking her head, sorrowfully.

Shocked, I responded, apprehensive, "What? What is the matter with Christine? Is she sick or did she hurt herself?"

"No, she isn't sick, she appears to be healthy, and she hasn't done any physical harm to herself. You should know, you told Mother that Christine would not be her usual self!"

I ignored what she said about what I wrote to Madame Giry, hoping that Meg would think I had nothing to do with it. "Physical harm?"

Sighing, Meg responded, "Yes, but she is not very good emotionally. It seems that she was with you when she began to feel like this; do you have any idea what may have happened? You should." I failed, apparently.

I stood there silently, staring at the ground with my arms crossed over my chest, and my fingers tapping on my arm. Growling, I answered, "No. I do not. Are you attempting to blame me for Christine's sorrow?"

Shakily, she replied, "N-No! I am placing the blame on no one, but if she does not get out of bed... I don't know what could happen. The managers may give her back her role as a chorus girl and ballerina because she is not practising for Hannibal."

"She is not singing?"

Meg nodded her head and stomped on the ground, angrily. "Damn, and all of this is my fault... would she like to speak to me?" Meg shrugged. "I don't know..."

"Could you take me to her?"

"What?You cannot be seen by other people! What will they think? The incident from five years ago may not seem as big today as it was then, but people have not forgotten, Monsieur! I assure you, there are probably still men that hold a grudge against you."

"Then you must take her here."

"She is not getting out of bed, and she said herself that she is never coming back! You should go to her if you really love her! If you love her so, then go to her!"

I hesitated and nodded. "Tonight."

Just like I said I would, I visited Christine when all the other ballerinas were sleeping peacefully. When I approached Christine's bed, she was not sleeping as well as the others. Her forehead looked moist by sweat and her pillow and eyes looked wet with tears. Her breathing sounded uneasily and, though her eyes were closed, I could tell that she was in pain. I placed a hand on her somewhat wet forehead; she wasn't feverish, but I noticed that she flinched at my touch, even in her sleep. I wanted to speak with her but I did not want to do it where we could wake up the other girls. I scooped her up in my arms, carefully and exited the room, slowly and silently.

I made my way over to her empty dressing room, pushing the door open with my shoulder then shutting it by leaning up against it. I locked the door and shook Christine in my arms, whispering her name. She looked even more uneasy and it worried me, but it was understandable; I was shaking her as she lay in my arms for Heaven's sake. Eventually, her eyes shot open and scanned the room with her eyes. Then I spoke softly, "Did you have a nightmare?"

She gasped, jumping out of my arms. "Erik?"

"Yes. Now Christine," I began. "I believe that you are having problems... you do not want to sing?"

"No, I did not even want to get out of bed. Why have you brought me here?" She argued.

"Christine... I could not bear hearing that you were so depressed; refusing to get out of bed, sing, or come back to me... what have I done that was so wrong?"

Christine's face turned red and her eyes fell to the floor, staring at her feet. Realising that she did not want to speak, I continued, "Christine, I could not believe it. Five years we have been apart and you do not want me? After all those tears you shed in my absence? Christine, you were the only person that showed me so much compassion, love, and... happiness... others laughed, shunned, denied, rejected, hated this face... me. You showed me the passion only a woman could show... no, you did more than that... Christine... you loved me despite my repulsive face and cruelty..."

Christine's eyes slowly met mine. "Erik, I still do love you... but despite knowing that I can see past your deformity, you are still ashamed. Show me the face behind the mask again, but this time, with kind eyes... Erik, show me your face without being ashamed!"

I hesitated, but after a moment, I lowered my head and shook it slowly. Christine pouted, grabbing my chin and I jumped at her touch. She brought my eyes to meet hers, "Erik, you don't have to show me, but I also would like to clarify that it is only you and I here and I could never hate you for your condition." I pushed her hand away and swore under my breath. I turned my back to her and tore off the mask. "Show me, Erik," Christine said gently. I eventually spun back around to face her. When I did, she wasn't taken aback by my hideousness, she didn't even frown. In fact, she smiled widely at me. "That's it... now this is the face I wanted to see."

My cheeks turned a slight pink, "You have already seen it. What does it matter?" I went to put my mask back on but she stopped me by taking the hand that held it. "But this time your eyes do not threaten, they just adore." She put her other hand on the right side of my face, the side that I always hid and she caressed it with tender fingers and there was no sign of disgust in her eyes or posture.

Realising how ridiculous it was for hiding from Christine, I began to sob. Christine pulled her hands away as my knees gave in and I dropped to the floor. I bawled and she knelt beside me, and wrapped her arms around my body, whispering, "Don't cry now, Erik, don't cry..."

(A/N: Well... Christine certainly has been having some mood swings...)