Anywhere you go, let me go too
Christine, that's all I ask of…
There were things far worse than death. This was a fact that Erik had grown painfully aware of throughout his tormented existence. He had endured unspeakable horrors in his lifetime, some of them by his own doing, but every monstrous moment that had overshadowed his mind up to this very instant paled in comparison. Christine Daae had just effectively shredded the soul he had offered to her, even before he had a chance to complete the offering. All of his defenses had fallen around him, his heart had been swollen with love and hope, his voice had risen with power and triumph. He had dared to believe that the one person his entire world utterly revolved around would see him as something other than the monster the rest of humanity believed him to be. He had dared to think that one shred of happiness was possible in his bleak existence.
Christine Daae had just torn Erik's mask from his face. He stood now, fully exposed before her, and before the rest of the Earth itself. For so long he had been in hiding, in an escape from the world that had denied him happiness. He had carefully managed to discover himself somewhere within the broken remains of his heart, and through the years he had delicately reconstructed something resembling a man. His music had been his greatest triumph and his power over the inhabitants of the Opera Populaire had given him an exhilarating pride. He had gone through life believing that his music would be enough to sustain him, despite the fact that he would never be able to share it with another soul. He had been sealed away beneath the earth for an eternity to live out his dark fate.
Fate, it seemed, would continue its cruel assault upon him. He had been drawn out of his icy shell as the splintered fragments of his heart slowly united. Someone had heard him in his darkness. Someone had shared in a sliver of his pain. And oh, how he had grown to love her. The past ten years of his life had been wholly devoted to the creature now standing before him, gazing at him with a torn, apologetic expression. His breath was ragged as he could only stare at her. A torrent of emotions threatened to overtake him, to come screaming to the surface.
Screaming…
It took a long moment for Erik to process the screams. They weren't in his mind. They were coming from the horrified members of the audience. Dimly he wondered how they could even clearly see his deformity from so far away, how they somehow instinctively knew what he was. He knew then that he would only have a few seconds to react, a few precious seconds that could break the line between life and death. He was set in perfect position. He could whisk the rapier from his side and slice the ropes that held the chandelier in place, effectively silencing the screams that surfaced at his hideous appearance. He could give them something far more significant to scream at. The lever that opened the trapdoor beneath him was nearby as well. Not only could he silence the screams and divert the attention of the audience, he could make his escape with Christine, dragging her into his lair.
But she was already gone.
He might be able to imprison her against her will, to slowly make himself believe that she loved him, but the truth of the matter was that he had already lost her. Erik had been able to captivate her by his mystery, his beautiful music. Yet the moment she had seen the man beneath the mask, she had recoiled. She had run to the arms of another. She would never love Erik, and he could never have what was standing mere inches from him. No. He would not harm her spirit by dragging her down into his darkness. As much as she had effectively destroyed any glimmer of light inside him, he could not bring himself to inflict a similar pain upon his angel. So Erik did the only thing he could think to do.
He began to sing.
Too late for turning back
Too late for useless pity
You dreamed of love and now you see the truth
This is the man
This is the point of No Return
Christine took a hesitant step away from him, fear clearly registering upon her face as the anger boiled in Erik's voice. He would not be stilled. If the audience was made to believe that the grotesque face he possessed was merely part of the Opera, part of the show, he might still have a chance at survival.
You've seen beyond the mask
This face that burns
You know I'm not the man
You hoped I'd be
You have revealed me as I am
The monster that burns inside the soul
His voice trailed off as he saw the confusion and uncertainty battle across Christine's face. His stormy eyes flicked to see the movement of the police officials in the shadows offstage, and he knew that her confusion was echoed by all in attendance. Monsieur Reyer, the true professional that he was, had continued to instruct the orchestra to play. The notes were no longer in the script, the words completely unexpected. But the music played on, and Erik's furious gaze bore into the very center of the woman standing before him. He saw her take several uneven breaths, and she slowly realized that he meant for her to sing, to continue performing in this bizarre ad-libbed opera.
Christine's mind had gone hazy the moment she realized it was her Angel of Music standing on the stage with her. Part of her had expected such action, but she still reacted with fear and uncertainty. She had only been able to begin her aria with a look to her dear Raoul, who was seated in box five directly above her. He had nodded to her, silently encouraging her to go on. As the Phantom of the Opera took the stage, Christine had realized that only Raoul and herself understood exactly who it was singing the part assigned to Piangi. She had been seized with an unbearable feeling of wretchedness as he sang those sensual words to her.
She was only here to betray him.
It would have been so easy to call out, to change the slightest thing, and the police would understand that he was the Opera Ghost they were there to hunt down and kill. Her mind pressed at her wildly to do so, to end the twisted affair of the Phantom of the Opera once and for all. He was a murderer. He was a monster. Raoul had spent endless hours trying to convince her of these things, to make her understand how necessary her actions this night would be. And yet, he knew it was the Phantom on stage with her. Why did he not act? How could he possibly be placing this kind of responsibility upon her? He was going to leave her with the responsibility of being the sole cause of her Angel's demise.
She could do no such thing.
She had slowly allowed herself to fall into the trance of his voice, to hear the sincerity in his words. She knew he had seen the guards posted, and she realized that he fully understood he was risking his very life. For what? For her. He loved her, and this Opera was his last desperate attempt to win her heart. Her insides had twisted in repulsion at the very thought. How could she love a monster such as him? He thought only of himself. He held no value for human life. He believed she was a mere possession to be owned. So why was she singing in response to him? Why did she feel as though following through with the wishes of her fiancée would be pure madness?
It had not taken long for Christine to fall under the dark wing of her Angel once more. The pulsating light of flames surrounded her, and they seemed to overtake her entire being. The contact between Erik and herself sent terrifying electricity through her blood. When he touched her, sang to her, all thoughts of the audience fled her clouded mind. Her heart knew its own intentions. When he had spun her, held her against his chest, she knew. Feeling his breath against her, his soft touch on her hair, she knew. There had never been a moment she shared with Raoul that brought her such intensity, such desire, such fire. Nothing he said or did could possibly compare to the way she felt in the arms of this man, this Phantom. She knew her draw to him went far beyond mere sentimental guilt, as Raoul had tried to convince her of. It even went beyond the flames he sent burning through her soul with his touch. Her draw to him was deep, soulful, and eternal. Her eyes had shot open when the true realization of her situation overcame her.
She loved him.
Christine had pulled away from his embrace, staring at him with mingling emotions. How could this be? She loved Raoul. She loved Raoul. She… her heart stopped beating when he began to declare his love for her, right then and there. Her blood ran cold when she recognized exactly what he was saying to her. Erik was singing the very words Raoul had sang for her what seemed like ages ago upon that snowy rooftop. He had been there. The Phantom had been there. He had seen Christine kiss another, pledge her heart to the Viscount de Chagny. He had witnessed it, and still he was before her now, openly and honestly professing his love for her.
Her will gave out. How could this be happening? How could this truly be transpiring before her? And more importantly, what could she possibly do? He cared nothing of the world surrounding them, cared nothing for his own wellbeing. She wilted under his gaze, so full of love and adoration. Her hand drifted to his face of its own accord, and the contact with him unhinged her soul. She loved him. She would fight the entire word for him. She would deny everything in her previous life for him. She would become his wife, stay with him always, bring light to his darkness. She would save him from his solitude…
NO!
No, this was all wrong. This wasn't what was supposed to happen. She had to be loyal to Raoul. She had to stay true to the plan. She had to act, to do something… All the while her heart fell to pieces in front of him, the Phantom's black mask mocked her. He was powerful now, ensnaring her heart with his radiance. There had to be a way to break his spell. He was not who he appeared to be, not simply a man who loved her more than life itself. She had seen the rage beneath the mask, seen the true darkness in his soul. Her hand shot forward and she flipped the mask to the floor in one shocking, fluid motion.
It was all she could think of to put an end to things.
His love for her was what had complicated everything. If he didn't love her, then she could pretend she wasn't drawn deeply to his every move. She could pretend that she was the perfect fiancée to Raoul. He could never love her now, not after she had just unmasked him before the entire audience. He could never love someone as wicked as she, as horridly wicked as she. Pain wracked her soul as she gazed up at him apologetically. How had this happened? She had been furiously thinking just moments before that she could not possibly love him. Now she was past all denying that truth, not even attempting to fight it. She loved him, and nothing would change that. But he could not possibly accept someone who had betrayed him, hurt him so. She had to force herself away from true beauty, away from his world of darkness. All the lies she had told herself to this point withered away completely. There was nothing to be done. She had betrayed Raoul long ago by accepting to be his wife without loving him with all her heart. And now she betrayed the man she truly adored, the man who she never wished to escape from. She had chosen the light, the pretty tales Raoul had told her so long ago. She had chosen what she was well aware was a fantasy, and she knew deep in her soul that her heart would forever belong to the man she had destroyed on stage.
He looked like a wild animal, standing before her with raw emotions on his face. She could see the thoughts raging through his mind, and the pure fury set his jaw stiffly as he merely breathed. She had not expected what came next. She had not expected him to raise his angelic voice in song once more. His words were now harsh, etched with the unspeakable pain in his shattered heart. Christine backed away from him in fear. What had she done? Her body froze when he stopped singing, when she realized that he intended for her to take over in the song. What could she do?
Twisted every way
What answer can I give?
Was I to risk my life
To win the chance to live?
I have betrayed the man
Who now captures my heart
You are not who you claimed to be
You lied right from the start
Did you think I wouldn't know
You hid behind a mask?
I care not for your facades
I want to see the truth
'Who now captures my heart'? Erik wildly replayed her words in his mind. What was she saying? Surely she did not still attempt to speak calming words to him, in an attempt to sedate his anger. And was she daring to defend her actions just now? Was she trying to justify what she had just done to him, for all to see? Despite the raging fury within him, Erik remained motionless, watching her uncertain actions. He found himself captivated by the fact that she continued to sing, continued to hold the pretense of the opera progressing. She took an unsteady breath, and began to sing again.
Night time sharpens
Heightens each sensation
Darkness stirs
And wakes imagination
Erik's blood ran cold. What was this? What could she possibly be thinking by singing his song, his song for her, right now? He visibly stiffened, turning his head to watch her as she slowly began to circle him. She was clearly in a state of distress: her face had gone quite pale and she was trembling. What on earth was going through her mind? His emotions battled inside him. Fury was the easiest feeling to deal with, although just below the surface, he was truly trying to hide the deep hurt in his soul that his hope had been crushed, that his beloved had betrayed him after all. At the same time, the faintest flicker of hope gained life within him, clinging to the desperate, impossible notion that not all was lost.
Silently the senses
Abandon their defenses
A tear slid down her cheek as she saw his look of utter confusion and apprehension. He had stiffened in much the same way she had when he began to sing the words Raoul had once spoken to her. What was she doing? She knew exactly what she ought to do, but could bring herself to do none of it. The thoughts passing through her mind were of a night that seemed years ago, the first time she had heard the song she was now singing. She had been utterly enchanted that her Angel was a man, and now she understood. The moment she first saw him was the moment Christine had fallen deeply, irrevocably in love. Now she had destroyed any chance of happiness in that love; she had literally ripped away all hope with a single, desperate motion. Tears streaming down her face, Christine did the only thing she could thing to do.
She sang.
Slowly, gently
Night unfurls its splendor
Grasp it, sense it
Tremulous and tender
Erik's heart thudded painfully within the confines of his chest. She had already unmasked him before all. She had already made her intentions clear. What more was there she could possibly do to unravel him? Why this? Why was she singing 'The Music of the Night' for him now, on this stage? Tears were streaking down her face, and he could not begin to guess at their source. What was she crying for? The childhood dream of an angel, lost? Had something in whatever scheme she had concocted with her fiancée to ensure his demise upon the stage failed? Did she see herself trapped now, at the Phantom's mercy? Bitterness surged within him, and his face hardened as she drifted around him, slowly.
Turn your face away
From the garish light of day
Turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light
And listen to the music of the night
She placed a hand over her heart, unable to hold the intense gaze of the man standing before her. She knew he was furious. She knew he was hurt. And she knew it was all her fault. Fear and doubt throbbed through Christine's veins with every beat of her heart as she fought to keep her voice loud and steady. Now it was her turn. She found herself trying to communicate her love for this man through music, just as he had done moments before. Christine felt the searing pangs of anxiety as she could only wonder if this song would end the way his had, with utter rejection. How could she expect him to understand? That she had acted out of confusion? That in truth, she loved him? At last, she raised her eyes to his, wishing only to communicate her soul to him.
Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams
Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before
Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar
And you'll live as you've never lived before…
Erik felt as though he was shattering from the inside out. The fiery red of the stage they were standing upon grew hazy as his own eyes blurred with the unfamiliar sting of tears. He furiously blinked them away, at last able to meet the gaze of the woman singing before him. The look she gave him seized his very soul. She looked intensely apologetic. For what? Betraying him? Ripping his mask from him? But there was something deeper to her expressions, her movements. There was something urgent in the way she sang, something desperate. Feeling his fury slowly fall to the crushing sensation of defeat, Erik's face at last softened. The energy drained out of him as he joined his voice to hers, no longer able to resist.
Softly, deftly
Music shall caress you
Hear it, feel it
Secretly possess you
The unmistakable exhilaration of hope breathed new life into Christine when she heard his voice join hers. The song was more powerful than she had ever dreamed it could be as the two of them sang in unison. Her hand once more drifted to his face, seemingly of its own accord, and she gently grazed the marred side of his face just as he turned away from her. He closed his eyes to her, shaking his head in a defeated gesture. Boldly, she moved forward, running both of her arms down his sleeve, grasping his hand and holding it as though her life depended on it. His stormy blue eyes rose to meet hers, a tidal wave of confusion and emotion clearly registering upon his face.
Open up your mind
Let your fantasies unwind
In this darkness that you know you cannot fight
The darkness of the music of the night
Erik felt the familiar warmth spark to life at the contact with her flesh. She grasped his hand tightly; her expression seemed so lost, so honest, so open. He felt his bleeding heart go out to her, against all possible shreds of logic. His power of reasoning fled him. Whatever Christine was planning, he no longer cared. His resolve iced over within him, and he dismissed his earlier thoughts of letting her go. No. Not now. It was a dangerous game she was playing, and now she would live with the consequences. He felt the frayed edges of his mind stumbling over the verge of desperation as he quite suddenly raised his other hand to cover one of Christine's. She was pretending to reach out to him? He was reached. She thought she understood the games she played? She would one day. She was offering herself to the darkness, and he would be all too happy to cater to her wishes.
Let your mind start a journey through a strange, new world
Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before
Let your soul take you where you long to be
Only then can you belong to me
Erik's voice had regained its momentum, its soul. The opera house resonated with the power of his song, and every individual present had been completely enraptured by the scene unfolding upon the fiery stage. The police were no longer on guard for any sort of apparition, the audience no longer shocked by the grotesque face the character on stage possessed. Raoul de Chagny felt as though his breath had been sucked from his lungs. Pain, outrage, terror, heartache, and love all poured through his racing mind. He had risen out of his seat when the monster had begun to sing the words he himself had sang for Christine on the night they proclaimed their love for one another. All strength had flooded from Raoul when Christine had begun to sing a new song, when he had seen the way she looked at the Phantom, and he had slowly sunk back to his seat.
The last line Erik had sang for Christine held the echo of a pleading question, an honest request. Christine's heart soared at the emotion she heard in his voice, and a smile ghosted across her face. Had he understood her meaning, then? She quietly surrendered to his movements, not resisting when he mimicked the actions he had taken upon first singing this song for her so long ago. He turned her around with her back pressed up against his chest once more, trailing his hands down her stomach. He splayed his fingers out across her abdomen, feeling her rapid intake of breath. She desperately wished she could go back in time, that she could undo the damage she had done. What she wouldn't give to change her reactions that night in his lair, that night on the rooftop, or even moments ago when she had torn his mask away from him.
Floating, falling
Sweet intoxication
Touch me, trust me
Savor each sensation
He guided her hand up to his face once more. Her heart jumped in confusion when she felt that his skin was clammy to the touch. Christine slowly turned to face him as he moved away, giving her a cold look. He looked almost like a cornered animal, only able to know he was alive by the next bout of pain he was required to endure. Her heart fell. He didn't understand her meaning at all, and he must still be suspicious of her, resigned to the thought of her betrayal. His arms dropped to his sides in a silent sign of defeat, although she did not miss the glimpse of fire in his eyes. There was more to this than she could see. Suddenly his eyes locked with hers; burning with a fury she had never before seen. The power radiated from his being as he moved towards her again, grasping her by the shoulders and never breaking their eye contact.
Let the dream begin
Let your darker side give in
To the power of the music that I write
The power of the music of the night
Erik knew that he had somehow abandoned the safe shores of reason; that his actions bordered on the edge of madness. He understood that what he was doing now was utterly and entirely self-destructive. He understood, and yet he could not bring himself to stop. Whatever actions he took now, Christine had brought upon herself. He trailed his hands upward, along her smooth neck, and held her perfect face within his hands. She stared up at him with the open, honest trust of a child, unmoving, unchanging. Why wasn't she pulling away? Why wasn't she staring intently at his grotesque face? His breathing grew erratic as he finished the song, the words she had never heard.
You alone can make my song take flight
Help me make the music of the night
Christine's heart instantly froze within her, and it seemed that the only sound in the vast auditorium was her own ragged breathing. The rest of the world blurred into a reddish smear as only the man standing before her came into sharp focus. She did not see deformity. She did not see a murderer. She only saw her Angel, someone who had been her friend through so many years of her life. She slowly moved forward, feeling as though her mind was on fire. In an action just as shocking as her removal of his mask, Christine placed her hands on either side of his face, and kissed him.
Now he was certain all reason had fled him. Erik had, not a moment before, managed to chill his entire soul towards Christine. He had fully intended to take her away forever, to force her to stay with him. He was willing to face down any sort of pleas she would offer. And in a single instant, all the coldness in his soul evaporated with the heat of her lips upon his. He had never before felt the touch of another in this way, never before been kissed. And he had never truly imagined that Christine Daae would kiss him of her own accord. All thoughts of rage, fury, and betrayal lifted from his mind, and all he could do was loose himself to the power of her kiss.
A/N: Yeah, it's probably not a good idea to be writing this fanfiction while my other one is in progress. But it begged me to write it, to write out another scenario to the PoNR scene. That scene in particular fascinates me, which is why I've explored it in such a way. I'm not sure if I ought to continue this or not.
Disclaimer: I have no ownership over the Phantom of the Opera. This disclaimer applies to any chapters that follow hereafter.