OK, here's your new chappie. Please review it!
BTW, this story is more based on the musical, but I have thrown in some aspects from the book. However, I haven't read the whole book yet, so if some info's inaccuarate, please don't flame me...
I know Erik might have been acting a little out of character in that last chappie, but I promise he isn't going to do anything else that bad!
Oh, and there will be no sex in this fic. Sorry, guys. I refuse to ruin a good fic by making it all sex and fondling. What you got in that last chappie is all you're gonna get! Try not to be too disappointed...
On that note, new chappie!
XxXxX
He watched them from the window. Christine stood there, mercilessly crushing the poor child's dreams. Hypocrite! Christine once shared those dreams. She should know! She should know how important music was to that child.
He moved to the far side of the house and peered inside the sitting room window. Christine was pacing around the room nervously. He noted how old she appeared. Her monotonous life had drained her. That lovely face that had once entranced him was now pale and drawn. Very sad.
Raoul entered the room. He noted that the former Vicomte was looking rather haggard too, much to his amusement. The handsome man now owned several grey hairs, and a few creases around the corners of his eyes. Of course, he really wasn't one to laugh. His own ebony hair had its fair share of silver streaks as well. And his face… well, it had known better days.
He watched as Raoul put a comforting arm around Christine's shoulders, concern etched on his face. He heard muffled voices through the closed window. Christine sounded distressed. Raoul took her hand and led her away to their bedroom, pausing first to turn out the lamp, and then the house was dark.
The stranger stole around to Marie-Eve's window again and crouched in the bushes. He glanced down at the object he held in his hand. A single red rose. A gift he had brought for Marie-Eve.
Christine and her family had no idea that Erik had been stalking them for all these years. He had watched her from a hidden place when she went into the church on her wedding day. He saw her come out with Raoul, her new husband. He followed them to this small town, where they lived out their own masquerade – none of their neighbours would ever guess that this simple couple were once a nobleman and an opera star.
Then he saw her tummy start to grow. And it was impossible to fail to notice that Marie-Eve was born exactly nine months after… after what he did…
Erik saw a reflection of himself as Marie-Eve grew up. She was like him in every way. He knew that it must be. He knew that Marie-Eve was his child. Not the Vicomte's. His!
Erik lifted Marie-Eve's window a crack and peered in. She was lying on her bed with her back to him. Ever since she was young, this had been Erik's routine… to crawl up to her window… and sing to her. He never failed to this, not even once. He almost felt it was his obligation as her rightful father to do so. After all, Christine would never sing lullabies to Marie-Eve. Not even when she was a crying babe in arms…
"Hush-a-bye, mon ange," he sang. "You'll be alright. Hush-a-bye, mon ange, sleep through the night…"
Suddenly, Marie-Eve sat right up in bed. Erik stopped singing immediately. She had never done this before. Normally, she allowed his voice to lull her to sleep. But now she was wide-awake.
"Angel of Music?" she ventured softly. "Please, let me go with you! Let me go to your world of unending song! I can't stay here anymore!"
Erik's heart swelled. She wanted to go with him! She wanted to be with him! But he had to consider… even after all these years, Christine would know that it was he who had taken Marie-Eve. No doubt she would call upon the entire French army to track him down and retrieve her…
But looking at the desperate expression on the child's face, he knew he couldn't leave her. Not in this silent, musicless world where she was rejected and shunned. She had to come with him.
They had to go back to Paris…
Erik gently set the rose down on the windowsill and silently lifted the window the rest of the way. Marie-Eve turned and stared at him in awe.
"Flatteuse enfant, tu sauras tout," he sang softly. "Vois, c'est dans l'ombre que j'erre. Dans le miroir, contemple-toi… Je suis là, derrière!"
Marie-Eve didn't move. She simply stared.
"Je suis ton Ange de Musique," he continued, enticingly. "Suis-moi, mon Ange de Musique…"
He held up his hands, gesturing for her to come closer to him. Marie-Eve moved slowly towards the window. Erik continued to sing, his voice becoming more and more hypnotic.
"I am your Angel of Music. Come to me, Angel of Music."
At last, Marie-Eve was within arms' reach. He reached in and lifted her out through the window. Fortunately, she was small like her mother, and was practically weightless in his arms.
He hurried with her to the edge of the property where he kept a black stallion tied up. Swiftly, he hoisted himself into the saddle and placed her in front of him. He urged the horse with his heels and soon the small cottage dwindled in the distance.
He took them to the edge of town, to his own cottage, where he had lived for the past ten years. They couldn't stay here anymore. He grabbed some provisions for their trip, some money, and a blanket, which he wrapped around Marie-Eve's shoulders. After this quick stop, they were off again. Back to Paris…
Back to the Opera Populaire.
XxXxX
Just in case you guys didn't catch that, Erik was singing "Angel of Music" in French.
Please review!
'K I'm done!