This chapter takes place in three situations simultaniously, to allow you to garner what is happening presently. I hope it is not confusing, and perchance it causes you to think about the possibilities here. I also attempt some free verse poetry, to attempt to explore Eriks feeling of double entende here with regard to the way he finds Populaire and their life together. I beg your indulgence and patience as poetry is not my forte. With gratitude, your indentured writer, Marykate.

Chapter 16

Return to hell

They rounded the corner and left the obscurity of their journey to Populaire behind them. As they glimpsed the ruins and remains of the exquisite opera house, they were taken aback by the fact that there were only a reported 35 deaths associated with this mess. Erik felt a stab of guilt run through him. He stood still and said a silent prayer for those whom he had needlessly harmed, as well as for his own soul. This made the whole idea of returning to his lair even more difficult for him. He would once again feel the hell he thought he was leaving behind forever. There were maniacal things happening in his mind at this moment, torment and tortured thoughts of what if's and recriminations.

He didn't know how to handle it and stifled an anguished cry. He turned away in shame and fell to his knees, burying his face in his hands. Bitterly he wept for the grave mistake the chandelier was to his soul as well as to the innocent people he had harmed. At the same time he felt that they somehow all deserved it for believing and fuelling the cruel Opera Ghost and Phantom of the Opera as they had for so long. One could not live feared for so long without wanting to strike back at those cowards fearing and creating fear of a mere mortal such as himself. Look at how mortal he was; he could not even rise about his intense love for Christine. He was damned near destroyed by it. How powerful was that? Then he realized how very powerful love was, it was all he lived for, and now that he had it he would kill to keep it. Christine was his one conscience listened to, he knew without her; he would be insane with anger and revenge. There would be nothing stopping him other than death itself.

Erik raised his head and sought Christine who was facing her own recriminations at the same time. Funny how much this had become home to her. She felt similar to how she felt the night, so long ago, when she lost her father. The overwhelming sadness threatened to engulf her again. Erik could see this on her face, he recognized this and knew that he needed to go to her now and ease her pain; just as he had eased her pain when Mme. Giry brought Christine to the opera house so many years ago. Funny, how time disappeared for people, when memories were destroyed.

Erik remembered how he felt when he went to his mothers' house so long ago and saw her body. He felt the same feelings of despair and longing for a mother's gentle touch even as an adult. He was angry and sad and filled with unfulfilled needs a child has for their parent. It was poignant and he still glimpsed that feeling when he entered his mothers home, it would never be his, which is why he gave it to Mme. Giry and Meg when Mme Giry's husband died. He had to do something to thank her for her great kindnesses.

"Christine, I am here." Erik said simply.

"Erik, I didn't expect to feel this way, it is so overwhelming. I feel as if I have lost another part of my father through this. I am feeling so bereft at this loss now. I never expected it to affect me this way." Christine let her tears fall as she stood there looking in gaping horror at the exposed and damaged theater she had celebrated her triumph and tragedy in.

Erik came up to her and held her gently, they both gazed at the once towering figure of the Opera Populaire until the reality meshed with their memories to a point that they could accept what lay before them.

"Erik, I can't keep looking at this mess, I have to just go forward, it is too much to bear this tragic end to such a grand place. Let's try to enter and see where we can go to get to the lair."

"Yes, Christine, I agree. We have to get below before anyone notices us out here. I am sure that even the cover of night is not going to keep people away from this sight for long. Let us try to get through the side door over here…" Erik guided Christine to the door, the area looking pretty intact except for some charring of the masonry. Christine remembered leaving this way when she went to the cemetery the day Erik and Raoul fought face to face for her the first time. Erik remembered, too, and looking over where he had grabbed some roses for Christine, he saw some old dried up roses, the stab to his soul being jabbed once more thus.

"Oh love, though I weep, they are tears of joy. For thou art great and fine and my memory such, that I shall go on living for all time. Here is the hour of my grand and final need, deep and rendering it shall ride the banal waves of ardor and assault the senses. Lust has no hold here, it is shallow and small, this is the place of great passion and greater needs, it must be, so there shall be one winner. Loves the prize, loyalty the triumph, lest we lose all, let us go assail they who should hope to keep us apart. This is my vow to you, my love, my Christine. I do all for you, I lose all for you, I sacrifice all for you!" With that Erik grabbed Christine and kissed her passionately, for his emotions at all that he had given up yet taken up for happiness had overwhelmed him and he ceased to think of anything but reaffirming his feeling for Christine. Proceeding was unthinkable until he felt the response she offered at this sight, this test of their love.

"Erik, that was so beautiful and poignant, I am beside myself with rapture of it all. This opera house shall always bring out the best and worst in us, shall it not?"

They walked through the doors to the Populaire, hand in hand, hoping to find their future and bury their past once and for all.

"Christine, don't worry, I will find you… You are there, I feel it. Come back, noooo…"

Phillippe rushed over to where Raoul lay, the third day in a feverish frenzy obsessed with thoughts and dreams of Christine. Each time he ends up screaming her name, his hell complete through the tortured, feverish mind he dreams with. Phillippe grabs the basin and the cloth and goes over to once more attempt to draw out some of the fever his brother is plagued with.

"Raoul, little brother, I wish Christine was here to help minister to your tortured thoughts. I am all you have, however, as they grow convinced with each passing day, of her death in the catacombs below the Populaire. I know you do not register what I am saying, but maybe if you hear it on some level you will grow quiet and stop yelling for her."

Miserably, Phillippe began to wring the cloth out and placed it on Raoul's feverish brow. Raoul shivered at the sudden chill and opened his eyes. Lucidity was brief, though he smiled a weak smile at his brother and tried to ask him what had happened, where he was. The words would not come from his parched throat, so he closed his eyes and listened for the remainder of his brief intelligibility.

Suddenly the bell rang, Phillippe left the cloth in the basin by the bed and went to answer it. The servants left when Phillippe returned home with Raoul. They all feared the fever, they lost everything to save their miserable lives.

"Ahh Meg, how are you this evening?"

"May I come in, Phillippe? I have to talk to you."

"Meg, Raoul is ill with the fever, are you sure that you want to come in while this is in our home?"

"I have no news of Christine yet, I fear that they may be right, Phillippe, I fear that maybe, after almost a month of her absence, she is gone. Mother and I are so distraught. We are not sure what to do, shall we wait for Raoul's recovery…" Meg's words trailed off as Phillippe gave her a grave look,

"His fever keeps spiking upwards, the physician is becoming alarmed at the length of time he is in delirium. I am glad to see you are so confident of his return to health, I hold less hope of that nature, I have begun to accept what may come to pass."

"Oh Phillippe, I cannot bear to hear the heart wrenching words from your lips. I don't believe that God would take all away from us like this. Raoul is tormented thus already over the loss of Christine so tragically, surely he has suffered enough! We must pull Raoul through. Let me go to him and see him. Maybe I would be allowed to minister some aide to his recovery, if you would permit me, good Phillippe?"

"I worry not for Raoul, I worry rather, Mademoiselle, for your safety. No words would express my distress should you become ill. Enough have been claimed by this fever, it would not be right to see you suffer in consequence for your good and gracious heart."

"Phillippe, I daresay there are no others as magnificent as you when it comes to courtesy, compassion and consideration for others. Raoul is blessed to have you for a brother to care for him. I worry not to my constitution as there is no opera house in which I may perform presently. Mother and I are of strong disposition anyway, Christine was always the one whom was sickly." With the utterance of her name, Meg became silent, realization that Christine was not there hitting her once more.

"How is your mother taking the disappearance and subsequently determined death of Christine?" Phillippe asked, trying to lighten the tension growing in the room. He desired Meg for many a fortnight, though he never intended to act upon this burgeoning desire he felt for her. It would be folly, brought on by the circumstances at hand, nothing more. He was certain she was ignorant of his desires and wished to keep it that way. Nothing good came of unions wrought of disastrous circumstances. If they ever explored their feelings, it would have to be after things were resolved. He looked away, over towards the doorway to Raoul's bedroom. "If you wish to follow me, I shall take you in to Raoul now."

"Yes, please. Mother is taking the decision as mother takes everything; things are not always what they seem is all she says when I grow melancholy. Mother always finds a way to convince you things are not what people say they are. I fear she is a great skeptic."

"That can be a strength if you use it wisely, Meg. Don't think for a moment, though, that she is not tormented as well by this whole affair."

"Kind of you to say that, Phillippe. Ah, Raoul…."

"Madame Giry, there is a red rose at your doorstep, do you wish me to bring it in to you?"

"Yes, Gina, if you would, dear child. Where has Meg gone?"

"She went to see Raoul and Phillippe." Gina replied as she brought the red rose with the black ribbon tied around the stem in to a now rather pale Mme. Giry.

"Where did you say, Gina, you found this rose?"

"At your door step."

"Was there a note with it?"

"No, Madame Giry, there was not. Would you like me to go to the door and see if there was one, and perhaps I missed it?"

"Oui, Gina, I would be grateful to you if you would."

Gina went to the door and checked for any note, there was not one, so she returned to report to Mme Giry that no note was found on second examination.

Mme Giry gave Gina the job at their house when the Populaire burned down mainly to give Meg someone who may replace the hole left by Christines' disappearance as well as to help her further her studies in the ballet company. In case the Populaire is ever resurrected. She had a feeling that would happen eventually. The Populaire was too big an event to go unressurected.

This was quite a discovery regardless the appearance of a note. Though it was not like Erik to merely leave a rose. Unless…