Disclaimer: See Part One. As for the delay, blame Erik. He's been ranting to me about his recent incarnation in the ALW movie (apparently he can't decide if he loves it or hates it and, to be frank, neither can I).
O.G.'s regards to Olethros, Sue Raven, Chantal, Some Random Phantom, Mary Jo Miller, lazy.kender19, Cyranothe2nd, AshleytheStrange, Mel, fell4adeadguy, LadyWillow, Angelic Lawyer, Riene, Saphire Starlet, Adriaane.
Part Four: Darkness Evaluated
Erik had brought her a cup of steaming tea that had chased away the last, subtle vestiges of her illness, and had left without a word. That had been quite awhile ago and Christine was growing restless. There were no sounds from outside her room, no trace of his violin, the organ was silent… the only noise in the world seemed to be the sound of her own breathing.
Long moments passed as she stared at the empty teacup on the nightstand. Stark white porcelain… the fragile beauty of the cup was all in the structure, the graceful lines of its form, rather than any decoration or ornamentation. Sometimes it seemed like so much of everything in the world of opera was overdone. Carlotta, for instance… Christine fought a grin. It had certainly been poetic justice, the incident during Il Muto! Really, Erik ought to have—
Christine threw back the blankets with far more force than necessary and drew her knees to her chest, curling tightly against herself and hiding her face. Her breathing grew irregular. No. She wouldn't think about this, she wouldn't think about him. She couldn't think about him, she would go mad! He would come back any moment and then what? What would he do? He had been kind to her while she was ill, yes, but after this morning… and she was better now… what had she been thinking… what of Raoul… she had to get away!
The pain of knots in her stomach finally brought her back to the present and she forced herself to regain her composure. Deep breaths, in and out. Deep, cleansing breaths, from the diaphragm, just as Erik had taught her.
Erik.
What was he doing now? There was no music, not a sound outside her room. Supposing he was gone? That he had left her? Christine uncurled from her pillows and swung her feet around, lowering them over the side of the bed to the carpet. What if she was alone in the underground house? Perhaps she could escape… but she had promised…
She froze, staring at her feet.
Christine had heard Raoul when he had been calling to her from the torture chamber. So he must have been able to hear her. Raoul must have heard the ultimatum she had been given… and he must have heard her choice. She brought a hand to her mouth, pressing tightly in an attempt to fight the tears that burned her eyes once more.
Raoul had heard her. He must have! He had always been wary of the subject of her Angel… and he had been so cynical before the performance.
Perhaps I should hear you say goodbye to him… or I'll always wonder if you only meant to say au revoir…
She had never even told him that she loved him! Not truly! When he had needed to hear it most, she had been silent. When he had needed her reassurance, she had demanded his! And if he had heard her consent to marry Erik… What if Raoul had given up on her? She had never reassured him, never silenced the doubts and fears he had expressed when she'd tried to explain about Erik. Given her behavior before their conversation on the rooftop, and given what he had to have overheard, such a response would be unsurprising.
What if she managed to escape from here only to find that Raoul had forsaken her?
Christine remained frozen, staring at the door, tears streaming down her cheeks. Who would protect her now? She shook her head.
Protection.
Perhaps she no longer deserved it.
The air around the shores of the lake was bitingly cold and Erik's breath misted before him as he paced, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He forced himself to stand still, despite the restless energy that coursed through his veins. This had to be done, there was no alternative. No matter what he wished or dreamed, this was inevitable. And better it was done now, while he still had the resolve…
Erik had not lost track of the days during Christine's illness, nor forgotten that it was the day that Nadir usually "visited" the fifth cellar to check up on him. The only question was whether the daroga would appear after the events of the previous week… No, that was not strictly true. Nadir would come, Erik knew, it was only a question of whether or not there would be an armed reception at the meeting…
"Hello, Erik." Nadir's voice was quiet.
Erik wearily turned to face him. "Nadir."
There was a heavy silence. He took a deep breath and continued. "I see the Vicomte does not accompany you today. After our last encounter, I would have thought you'd have brought him along."
Nadir gave a bitter laugh, his eyes saddened. "Hardly." He studied Erik for a moment. "I didn't think you would come."
"Didn't you? Then why are you here?"
Silence again, while Nadir looked out across the lake. "Erik," he whispered "Let her go. You must see reason—you cannot keep her like this!"
"Really? Then just how should I keep her?" The retort slipped out before Erik could control it. He held up a hand when Nadir drew in a sharp breath to reply. "No. Listen. You want answers."
"Yes." Nadir nodded, his eyes confused and wary.
Erik took a deep breath. This must be done. "Very well. On the condition that you allow me to finish before you deliver whatever lectures and condemnations you undoubtedly have prepared."
A pause. "Agreed."
This must be done! Turning toward the lake, away from the piercing and quietly accusing eyes of his friend, Erik clasped his hands tightly behind his back. No matter the pain, the despair, and the agony that life would be without her…
This must be done!
