Safe in His Arms Ch. 6
I was surprised to find that it was still relatively light out when we finally exited the opera house. We must have looked like ghosts to those around us; terribly silent, dirty, and bruised. Our little clan stood at the gate of the opera house's courtyard, waiting patiently for Raoul's carriage to arrive.

In our silence, the wind seemed to carry every possible emotion in human existence. Meg stood with her head hung low in shame, arms crossed tightly in front of her chest. Madame Giry was frighteningly still, her facial expression bearing no scars of the recent events; and yet, her hands fiddled with each other restlessly. Raoul held me close to him in an embrace, every now and then kissing the top of my head. When he would lift a hand to stroke my hair, his hands would shake. His lips were parted and almost invisibly quivering, as though he were talking to himself. Meanwhile, I clung to him with all I had and shut my eyes in an attempt to wash away my fears.

I was unsuccessful.

We stood there for a long moment, in silence, before the sound of hooves and wheels on cobblestone met our ears. Raoul's driver gave us a few estranged looks as we silently boarded the vehicle. Once more, I sat next to my fiancé and Meg sat next to her mother. It seemed we all took a deep breath at the same time, and then all at once, the events of the day struck us.

I leaned my head back against the headrest and pursed my lips as the tears were now unstoppable. Raoul leaned forward to rest his head on his hands, grasping his hair in his fingers. Meg leaned into Madame Giry's welcoming arm as they both released their pent-up emotions. Meg's small sobs filled the thick air of the carriage.

"My God…" Raoul whispered a prayer.

It was a short while before we all somewhat regained our composure; now a mass of final sniffles echoed throughout. Once more, Raoul spoke.

"Do you have a flat in this area that we could take you to?"

Madame Giry wiped a handkerchief across her nose quickly while shaking her head.

"The opera house dormitories were our home."

I looked at Raoul, wordlessly proposing an idea. He returned my gaze, and replied with a pensive expression.

"I would invite you to stay at my flat but unfortunately I only have one chaise that one of you could sleep on," he said. Meg sniffed before replying.

"I wouldn't mind sleeping on the floor," she said. "The dormitory beds weren't much better." The whole carriage let out a small chuckle at the remark. Leave it to Meg to lighten the mood. I smiled at her warmly as Raoul gently held my hand in his.

"If you wouldn't mind hosting us until we can find a flat, it would be very much appreciated," said Madame Giry, clearly accepting our proposal. Maybe now the flat wouldn't feel as empty with those two there. They were good friends, after all.

Us three ladies prepared a meal while Raoul read through one of his nautical books. He had offered to help, but we all agreed that it was best if he didn't. Poor man wouldn't know sugar from salt if they had labels over them! Meg proceeded to slice the loaf of bread, while I prepared the vegetables to be placed in the pot of soup. As was her nature, Madame Giry was hovering over our shoulders making sure that we were slicing correctly, perhaps so that we wouldn't end up fingerless. The smell that came from the boiling pot as Madame Giry stirred it was so deliciously fragrant as I realized that none of us had eaten for a long while.

"Ah, that's hot!" Meg cried out as she attempted to carry one of the porcelain bowls of soup into the dining area. Madame Giry smoothly handed her a dishtowel as she continued to pour the soup into the four bowls in front of her. Meg then covered her hands with the dishtowel and carried the bowl to its proper place in front of one of the chairs. Carefully, she removed the towel from under the bowl as she came back to deposit another bowl.

"I'll take the last two, dear," said Madame Giry as she carefully picked up one bowl for each hand. While Meg was still placing her bowl, her mother's gaze connected with mine.

"Thank you for coming for me. You were very brave," she said, a tiny smile curling the edge of her mouth. I returned the smile.

"Now if you wouldn't mind finding the cutlery and bringing it to the table?" she said. I nodded. "Raoul! Dinner is ready!" she called out to the upper floor. I laughed to myself as I reached for the drawer that contained the cutlery, but my smile instantly dropped to a terrified frown as I noticed something out of place in the drawer: a note with a very familiar stamp. Too familiar.

Quickly, I tore the red skull seal and yanked the paper out of its envelope. Suddenly a black realization swarmed over me as the Phantom's plan unraveled before my eyes. The note read:

Dearest Christine,

If it was you who found this note, then all is well and has gone along with my plan perfectly. If it is not Christine that is reading this, I would advise you not to continue doing so.

Christine, I request a meeting with you tonight. Do not come accompanied, for there will be grave consequences should you do so. At four o' clock in the morning, when the rest of your crew are asleep, make your way to the doorway of Notre Dame cathedral. I will meet you there and we will discuss further my intentions.

My dearest ingénue, I know you will follow my commands. I shall see you tonight.

-Erik

Erik… the Opera Ghost had a name! My heart fell as I was reminded that the Phantom was truly just a man and every man has a name. I almost felt ashamed for thinking of him just as a ghost, a phantom; though he brought it upon himself. He loved to dance around from place to place, scaring the wits out of people as a phantom would. He had shown no signs of being human except for his deep obsession with my voice and I. Now, the transformation was complete: he could love, he could hate, and now he had a name. No longer was he a ghost in my mind but a pitiful human begging for my attention. Yes, I would follow his commands tonight.

"Christine, the soup looks delicious but, darling, a spoon would be useful!" called out a joking Raoul, now sitting comfortably at the table. I snapped back to the world outside of the note and crammed it back into the cutlery drawer. I proceeded to draw out four spoons and rushed them to the table.

"I'm very sorry, I had a little difficulty finding the cutlery drawer!" I lied. I lied to those I loved, but they couldn't know about the Phantom's plan. Though, it seemed, as always, Madame Giry knew that I was lying. She was a smart woman who always seemed to know the workings of the Opera Ghost, of Erik. She had most certainly seen the note.

The evening passed, and I now found myself pretending to be asleep in Raoul's arms. He would feel betrayed tomorrow, when he finds out, but I had to protect him. I had to go alone and leave no word with him of where I was to go. I felt shameful as I gently, carefully, peeled myself from his arms. He looked so peaceful with his eyes shut, acting as curtains to the dreams that occurred behind them. For a moment, I simply watched his chest rise and fall, knowing that after this he would be all right.

Delicately, I floated down the stairs to the door of the flat where I lifted my navy cloak off of its hanger. I turned my head to look at the now sleeping Meg and Madame Giry. It was an amusing sight; Madame on the chaise with her hair down and tossed all around her, Meg on the blanketed floor next to her with a thick duvet up to her chin. I could have sworn I saw Madame Giry's eyes open for a moment and smile at me as I made my way towards the door. It was a comforting gesture.

The streets of Paris were doubly chilly with the night wind and me being in a nightgown and cloak. The silence was broken by the odd sound from the beggars' fires in the alleys. I made sure to make my trip to Notre Dame quick and sure, so as not to become a victim of one of the night hawks who desired a good bedding partner.

As I approached the glorious building, I noticed that one of the grand doors was partially open. The moon's light reflected off of a dark mask, which I instantly recognized. He waited for me. I sped up a little to escape from an approaching man dressed in tattered clothes and a whiskey bottle in hand.

"Come give us a kiss!" he slobbered out. He was definitely drunk, and I had no intention of making acquaintances with a drunken man. It wasn't long before he stumbled over his own feet and knocked himself out on the cobblestone. I was almost at the door of the cathedral, and clearly at arm's reach because Erik- the Phantom- reached out and pulled me inside, shutting the door.

"Besides your little friend out there, has anyone followed you here?" he spoke. His voice was so enchanting and yet demonic… I had to gather myself before I could answer.

"No. Raoul does not know. Madame Giry would not follow me," I replied. He took a step towards me, a wild look in his eyes.

"Madame Giry read the note? I had thought I made it clear that no one but you was to do so!" he barked.

"She… she didn't read the note. She saw the note, but you know better than I that she would never read any of your notes that you do not intend for her to read," I worked out of my throat. As he always did, he terrified me. And yet, I had no desire to run away. Whatever business he had with me, he could do no more than he did that one dark night just a few nights ago.

He turned away from me and took a few steps. He gestured for me to sit in the nearest pew, and I did. I took a few breaths to compose myself, but all that composure was lost when I suddenly felt his gloved hand on my cheek.

"You love the Vicomte," he breathed, almost as a question. In part, it was also him admitting it to himself.

"Yes," I said, taking a deep breath and shutting my eyes as he now brought both hands to cradle my head.

"Did you ever love me?" he asked, his voice low and lightly aggressive as he drew his hands down my shoulders. Now, he pulled one hand just under my chin, caressing my neck. My breathing became labored as I slowly succumbed to his touch.

"Answer the question, Miss Daae," he urged, his voice becoming even more aggressive and yet seductive.

"N…No…" I spoke through short breaths. His hands were wandering dangerously down from my collarbone now. The dancing colors of the stained glass window from the moonlight highlighted the black of his leather gloves. They reached the curve of my breast, and suddenly I shot my eyes open and swatted his hands away. I stood, frustrated, and walked up the aisle towards the pulpit at the front of the chapel. I crossed my arms in front of my chest, catching my angry breath.

"It seems my little ingénue has grown a little stronger than I remember," I could hear his voice resound from the back of the chapel. Such a glorious cathedral, and in the most sacred room of it, he desired sin. I would not flatter him with that. Suddenly his footsteps drew very close indeed, until they were right next to me.

"Ah, Mother Mary, a beautiful woman she was," he commented on the statue before us. "Even she had her most sacred son with an angel, not her husband."

My eyes widened as I realized what he was meaning. He wanted me to abandon Raoul and live forever in darkness as his wife… the wife of my so-called Angel of Music.

"You are not my Angel. You never were!" I spit as I turned to face him. "I love Raoul and I do not desire a life with you!" Sharply he gripped my face with his broad hand, and for a moment, I almost regretted my words.

"Is that why you kissed me just two nights ago? Is that why you behaved so unladylike in front of a whole opera audience? Is that why you followed me to my lair when I asked?" His voice was so fierce and sharp that it seemed to pierce me with every word. Tears streaming, I weakly spoke the only answer I could muster.

"I'm… sorry…"

His face contorted into a devastated expression of lost hope and broken dreams. And was that…was that a tear that I spotted being born in his eye? It was, and I watched it fall coldly down his cheek. His grip weakened around my face as I felt myself shrinking back down to my normal height. He choked on sobs that tore at my heart as he walked away and slowly moved his hand to where his mask lay.

"Damn this bloody piece of cloth! Damn what lies behind it!" he roared as he viciously tore it off and threw it violently towards the statue of Mary. If only he could understand that it was not his face that so repulsed me, but his soul that frightened me away, petrified me! But I had tried so hard to explain on that previous night, I knew now that it was useless to try again.

"I'm sorry…" I whispered as I picked up the bottom of my dress and hurried out of that now desecrated building. My sobs echoed all throughout Paris as the sound of his own flooded my mind. I had to go back to Raoul, my safe place. I couldn't take this torture of overwhelming compassion. It was simply too much for me to bear…