Hi all! Thanks for the reviews! One of you guessed where this story was partially heading, and all I can do is promise you that it was already part of my plot before you reviewed. Lol.
Secondly, this is not the last chapter. There is one more.
Please read and review!
The sky grew darker and the air grew cooler as the autumn evening began to set in. Several more couples entered the little restaurant, the sounds of quiet conversation and silverware clinking against plates beginning to fill the cozy atmosphere. Most were out for a relaxing evening with their beloved, content to enjoy a pleasant meal after a tiresome day. Occasionally someone laughed lightly, or a younger pair exchanged a quick kiss behind their menus.
Only one table held a quiet and mysterious tension, as the young brunette focused her eyes upon her older companion, her question hanging unanswered in the air. Christine watched as Erik shifted in her gaze, his eyes downcast to the table. She observed him clench and unclench his fists and wondered what thoughts occupied his mind. Finally, he looked up at her.
"As I have told you, Christine, I am a composer."
It was not that she thought the words were untrue. Rather...they were not the entire truth. She could sense this, now, a powerful feeling of recognition inside her subconsciousness. "Erik," she repeated, fully meeting his gaze. "Please tell me who you are. I feel as if I have known you for more than a day. I know that I have known you for more than a day. Tell me who you are."
Another silence passed, and there was such a distantly forlorn look in his eyes that she almost regretted asking. "I shall tell you before I leave tonight, Christine. That is all I will offer you."
His tone was firm, and she knew that she would get no more information from him at that time. She did, however, at least know that there was more to him than what appeared on the surface. Their meal soon came, and they ate in silence for several minutes. Though Erik took several bites of his food this time, he still did not appear to be hungry. Once again, neither was she. A thick knot had formed in the middle of her stomach, making the expensive food taste heavy and bland.
Setting her fork down with a dull clink, she removed her napkin from her lap and looked up. "Erik, if we have so little time together, then let us not waste it sitting here. Let's go outside."
"Whatever you wish, Christine," he replied with a hint of relief. Erik left enough money on the table for the uneaten meal, and they strode outside into the dimming evening air.
They continued their slow walk down the narrow dirt road, the sun taking on a reddish-orange glow as it went about its steady descent. A cool fall breeze rustled the trees, gently swaying the branches and knocking the brightly colored leaves to the ground. Every now and then, a carriage trotted up the street with a friendly wave from the driver, or a couple walked by hand in hand through the tranquil atmosphere. Shadows continued to lengthen as the sky darkened.
Christine felt both peaceful and uneasy at the same time. Though the setting was beautiful and she no longer feared her companion, a feeling of something to come seemed to twist at her mind and heart. She shivered slightly in the autumn air and walked more closely toward Erik for warmth. To her dismay, not much heat seemed to radiate from his tall form. Taking his hand, she found that it had grown colder than she last remembered it. Still she grasped onto it, though, as they continued their stroll with no set destination.
Finally they came to a small public park and walked up curiously to a stone fountain in the shape of a little cherub. The water softly gurgled in the circular pool, gently splashing against the sides. Christine looked down at their reflections from above and noticed that Erik was staring intensely at them, too. They looked elegant together, but their faces held vague expressions of concern and their eyes held hidden secrets. She slowly placed her hand into the cool liquid and randomly moved it about, thereby distorting the images into blurred, misshapen fragments. Her other hand was jerked as Erik suddenly pulled back, and she looked up at him with curiosity.
"It is time to return," he simply stated, guiding her back in the opposite direction. "It is getting dark out."
Erik led her back to the road and found a cab. She suddenly noticed that he was squeezing her hand tighter and had a tense look upon his face as he climbed into the carriage. Attempting to lighten the ever-darkening mood, Christine began to make idle conversation. "I adore autumn evenings," she began cautiously. "It is too bad that the days are getting shorter."
"Yes," he replied distractedly, drawing back the carriage curtain and gazing out the window.
"Many say that we are to have a terrible winter this year. Of course, the almanacs are often wrong, but I suppose we should prepare anyhow."
He did not even reply this time, staring forward intensely. Whenever the carriage would pause or begin to slow down, his jaw would suddenly clench tightly and a look of fury would cross his eyes. "Are you well, Erik?" she asked, tilting her head. "You look rather strangely."
Erik turned toward her and reached across for her hand again, as if finally realizing that his behavior was disturbing her. "Yes, Christine. I am fine. I just wish to be home before it becomes too dark. That is all."
"I am sure that we will be," she replied consolingly. "We still have over an hour. Of course, a little darkness never hurt anyone."
"No, I suppose it did not," he murmured. Christine became silent then, leaning her head against the side of the carriage for several minutes in deep thought. More than ever, she was sure that she somehow knew this man, and it bothered her to see him in such distress. The carriage trotted onward and into the busier parts of the city. It stopped after about ten more minutes, and she looked out the window to see that they were in front of the Opera Populaire, bathed in the shadows of the enormous stone building. The driver opened the door.
"Why on earth are we here?" Christine asked as she climbed out behind Erik and watched as the cab traveled away. "Wouldn't it have been more appropriate to take me to my flat and then go to your house? Now we shall each have to find another cab."
Erik was silent for a moment, and she could not see his expression in the little light that remained. "I have matters to attend to inside, Christine, before I leave." He paused and glanced toward the west. "If you wish, you may accompany me for a short time."
"Of course," she replied. "You still have yet to reveal to me who you are." She took up his arm again, and he led her through the unlocked doors of the Opera Populaire. Several maids and stage hands still lingered about, tidying up for the day. No one paid the well-dressed couple any attention, accepting them as wealthy tourists or patrons looking over their venture.
Without a word, he rapidly took her through the winding corridors, and she could feel her breath quicken from the fast pace they were moving at. Finally, he stopped several yards away from the familiar white door of her dressing room and just stood there motionlessly for a moment. She looked at him with curiosity, noticing that something seemed different about him. It was too subtle to place her finger on but was definitely there. With thirty minutes left before sunset, she repeated her earlier question.
"Erik, who are you?"
He knew that he should have left her at the front of the Opera Populaire with a cab to take her home and a final goodbye. Every forward ticking second was now a huge risk with the sun so dangerously close to the horizon. But...he wanted to be with her until the very end. He had to be with her until the last possible moment.
The rest of the evening had been heavenly, even if each passing minute seemed to eat away at his heart. When he had spoken, she had looked at him with such interest, giving him simple touches and always smiling with her face aglow. No one had ever gazed at him in such a way before. If only she could look at him the same once she saw who he truly was. But such thoughts were insane and irrational! Once she saw, her expression would mimic that of everyone else's. Horror and disgust, at best pity, would be plastered upon her face as she quickly drew away from him.
The entire affair was slowly killing him, and now he had to find a way to disappear so that she could go on with her life with no questions. Why did she have to stare at him with such curiosity? Why did she have to ask his true identity? His heart was racing with panic and despair in these last minutes, and he could practically feel the flesh on his face beginning to dissipate. He had to think quickly!
She would not be satisfied until he told her that they had indeed met before. In her subconscious, she knew for a fact that this was not their first day together. What to tell her so that she would never journey after him? What to tell her to make this one of the best days of her life rather than one of her most terrifying nightmares?
In his lifetime, Erik had built some of the most magnificent palaces ever to be seen by mankind. He had composed melodies with chord combinations never heard before and had designed contraptions that would not be seen for decades to come. As a magician, he could make solid objects disappear from plain view and perform such stunning illusions that even the most practical man would believe them to be works of sorcery.
On this particular evening, though, Erik created his most amazing work of all. He devised the most beautiful lie to ever grace a young girl's ears.
And yet...it was the truth as well.
"Erik?" she said again, gazing up at him with those soft brown eyes.
"Christine," he quietly began, turning to face her. "Though you may find this difficult to believe, I am your Angel of Music. For one day and one day only, I was permitted by the heavens to come to earth in the body of a man. You are correct when you say that you have known me for more than a day."
There was a short silence, and he feared for a moment that the story was too extravagant for even her naive ears to believe.
"My Angel," she murmured in quiet awe. With relief, he could see within her brown orbs that she truly trusted him, was slowly matching his voice and the voice of her Angel's together. "Yes," she whispered. "You are he, aren't you?" Her red lips quivered, and her eyes became slightly glazed over. For a second, he feared that she would faint.
"Are you well, Christine? I did not wish to upset you. I realize that it seems like an impossibility."
"Yes...yes," she replied, some clarity entering her eyes. "It is just...so difficult to take in, but I have known your voice all along, I believe. I have sensed it."
A peaceful look lay on Christine's flushed face, and he attempted to mimic the expression. Should she see the mortal fear and desperation in his eyes, her conviction that he was a being of the heavens would begin to fade.
"You have done so much for me, Erik...Angel," she whispered, looking down at the marble floor. "Please tell my father that I am forever grateful he has sent you."
"I shall." He felt her take his hand into her own tightly. Guilt washed over him. She thought she held the hand of a holy entity when instead she held one of a grotesque monster. But it did not matter. In several minutes it would end, and he would haunt her no longer.
"After tonight," she began, looking up at him. "You will continue to teach me, right? I will continue to hear your voice?"
"No, Christine. I am afraid that is not possible. Tonight is the last time you shall hear from me." It had to be this way, he knew. Were he to stay around her any longer, he would not be able to keep away from her. He would make her miserable in his yearning, only this time he would expose her to his hideous visage as well.
The look of despair on her face nearly killed him, nearly made him whisk her away to a dark place where she would only be his forever.
"Oh no!" she gasped out. "You cannot leave me alone. I need you to teach me to sing. I promise that I will devote myself to my music and nothing else. Please, Erik."
"Christine, you have surpassed all expectations in your ability. I vow to you that all of Paris will bear witness to your voice and stand for you in great applause. You are no longer in need of me, child. Do not ask anymore." His tone was cold and firm, and he knew that she would not question such harsh words from her Angel of Music.
Erik saw a tear fall from her eye as she gazed down at the ground. From somewhere deep within his mind, he could hear the ethereal voice warn that only fifteen minutes remained. It was enough time to give Christine Daae a final gift. Very gently, he sang a soft melody with his entrancing voice. It was a foreign song from long ago that he had once heard in his childhood, soothing and lulling. She closed her eyes and swayed to it a moment, letting herself be taken in by its splendor.
Truth be told, he had written another song for her some time ago...a haunting lullaby that told of the beauty in the darkness and the night's ability to transform music into its purest form. He would not sing that to her now, though. It would place a permanent imprint on her mind, and he wanted to leave her without any eerie memories or sinful longings.
That was why he chose to only sing this beautiful yet innocent song. Simply his voice, though, was enough to bring her nearer to him. She was standing just inches away, and he could feel her warmth being drawn in by his chilled skin. A look of euphoria lay on her face as the melody ended.
She gazed at him for a long moment. "That was truly and utterly beautiful," she said softly. "Your voice truly is that of an Angel's." Her hands shaking, she found herself reaching out to gently touch his smooth face with her slender fingers. Closing her eyes, Christine leaned in and laid a soft kiss upon his left cheek. It was so fast and stunning that it took him a moment to comprehend what had occurred.
He watched her eyes widen as she brightly blushed. "Was that wrong?" she whispered. "Is it wrong to kiss an Angel?"
"No," he finally choked out. "I do not think so, Christine." The tingling sensation of her warm lips lingered on his flesh, his first kiss. She nodded and continued to look up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks.
A single tear fell down his own cheek, and he found himself slowly leaning in to kiss her sweet lips. Christine tilted her head up in response and closed her eyes, parting her mouth just slightly in anticipation.
It is now time, my friend.
Rapidly he drew his head back with a sharp gasp, and she opened her eyes and looked up in surprise.
"I shall watch you from above, Christine," he managed to say as he turned away and headed for the familiar shadows.
"Erik!" she cried out to his dark form. Her eyes were blurry from tears, and she quickly rubbed them away so that she could see more clearly. By the time she had focused again, though, Erik was gone.
He had ascended back into the heavens, leaving the door to her dressing room just slightly ajar.
