Okay, if anyone is reading this who was reading POTO: A series of Outtakes and Plot holes... what can I say, it was removed and I was banned from the site for a few days.
Chapter Six: Three words
Your part is SILENT!
Little Toad...
"Raoul..." Christine asked. "Am I gaining weight?" she asked with a hint of concern as she looked into her vanity mirror.
It had been two months since the visit from Dr. Leblanc, and though Raoul assured her that she was in perfect health, the sickness had not gone away. This was not the only problem that had been occurring, for her restlessness increased, and she started to become rather moody sometimes.
When she did sleep, her dreams were vivid memories, and fantasies she could not reveal to Raoul even on her deathbed. She stood there, looking at the flush in her cheeks and the swell of her breast remembering her most current nightmare.
She had just broken a trinket that was sitting on the desk in Erik's home. She had gotten used to his sudden rages, but it had been quite some time since she had seen him this bad.
"Erik please! For heaven's sake it was a mistake!" She cried, terror in her eyes. He had thrown her against the wall and pinned her there with his strong arms.
"A mistake? Mistake Christine? Why must it always be a mistake with you, my mask, my private things, your promises, and even my heart? You never MEAN to break them!" He snarled and held her shoulders against the wall.
There was no pain, standing there with his hateful, gleaming eyes boring deep into her. She stood there, staring deeply into them, wondering if the heat in her face would ever leave, or if she would just die of embarrassment. Her heart was pounding furiously, and her breath coming in short ragged gasps. She vaguely noticed his was doing the same. Instead of cooling down, she felt the heat slowly burn a path down her body, leaving her breasts and lower stomach tingling. Her skin ached with a longing she knew all to well as a fever of wanton desire. Hopelessly, she looked up into his eyes trying to convey how much she needed him to just crush his body to hers and press his lush mouth to her in a demanding kiss.
Her knees went weak when she knew he had seen her desire, and his own eyes began to cloud in the familiar look of need and he did just as she craved, he crushed her between the wall and himself. She allowed him to pry open her mouth with his, his tongue discovering her. When they pulled apart, she could not tell if she was dizzy from the heat she was emanating, or if it were because she was in dire need of air. Either way, she did not care as his mouth began to trail her jaw line and nip her pulse. She gasped in delight and closed her eyes as he trailed his kisses down her breast…
Christine's eyes watered with the thought of the memory. Oh how cruel her dreams were! How disgusted she was to wake up longing for the caress of another man other than her Raoul. Her guilt ate at her until she could no longer allow his intimate caresses. Which in turn, weren't that much, ever since the Doctor's visit. Yes, ever since the doctor promised her that nothing was wrong, Raoul had just been coddling her, but in no way touching her in anyway intimately. Now she was gaining weight and she was sure that Raoul was loosing interest in her now that she was his. He had even suggested she return to her room that was hers before their marriage so she may sleep with more ease.
This left her bitter, and over time, a temper no one had ever seen emanated from her. Though Christine was appalled by her actions, Raoul seemed quite all right with them.
She remembered a fortnight ago when she was working on her needlepoint. Raoul had been in his chair by the fire while she sat beside him in hers. He had been reading while she had been staring numbly into the fire.
"OUW!" She yipped when she stabbed herself for the second time with the sharp needle. A drop of blood fell onto her white dress, and she lost all control.
"Damn you!" She yelled at the embroidery, and before she new what she was doing; she threw it into the fire.
"What a pathetic attempt at nothing!" She snarled and got up to storm off.
"Christine!" Raoul said rather taken back, as she had been about to walk away. All of a sudden, she felt embarrassment and guilt seep into her and knew she had lost the color in her face. Quickly she dropped to her knees and laid her head in Raoul's lap.
"Oh dearest, please forgive, me, I don't know what has come over me!" She said in between sobs.
Raoul had simply stroked her hair and hushed her cries. It surprised her he understood her outbursts, when in fact, she had no clue as to why she couldn't control herself. She had expected him to be disgusted with her. Her temper was becoming as fierce as Erik's had been.
That had been the only a fortnight ago, and now they were getting ready to go to Faust at the Opera Garnier.
"Well?" She asked rather annoyed by his silence. She turned to look and see what was taking him so long. When she saw he was simply smiling at her, she was even more upset.
"Well are you going to stand there all night with that rather silly grin or are you going to tell me if I have turned into a fat toad like Carlotta or not!" She fumed.
Once the words were out her mouth she clasped her hand to it.
"Where in heaven's name is this hostility coming from!" She cried inside her head. "Never in my life have I ever talked so rudely, and now I find it comes rather easily!"
Raoul laughed and approached his wife who was dressed in the finest silks of Paris. She had put the majority of her long, curly hair up with beautiful sterling silver combs.
"You look more radiant than ever, my dear. Do not worry about your little outbursts, all will be explained tomorrow on the arrival of Dr. Leblanc." he said touching her cheek, making her smile.
My Raoul, she thought, my dearest, loving husband. What was the surprise he was keeping from her? She didn't like surprises or secrets. They had been spoiled. Too many men kept secrets from her then blamed her when she didn't know what they were talking about.
"Come dear, we should be off! The opera awaits!"
(' ) '
-
Down once more
to the dungeon
of my black despair!
Erik stood by the entrance to his palace of sins in Rue Scribe. The sand bags had been taken away, and now he was free to enter back into the dismal world he had left behind.
Why did he come back here? The music. He needed to make peace with the only thing in his life that had never betrayed him. Music had been there with him through it all, and when Christine had left, he had given up on it.
He betrayed music, he realized as guilt seeped into his heart. He had traded sound for flesh, and even though his deepest, and newest love did not return it, he could not return to his first.
But she COULD! His heart screamed.
"I never explained myself… I loved you and now you are dead."
His chest constricted in pain as he clenched and unclenched his fists. If she had really loved him, she would have never left him as she had. She wouldn't have ran away with that fool of a husband and allowed herself to be tamed. Now look at her, she was attending opera's more these days than performing in them. She had not only betrayed him, but herself.
Suddenly a wave of calmness swept over him, just as sudden as the wave of hate and anger. He knew Christine had only fled from the mob, not himself. He had seen what mobs could do in his time, and they usually had trouble stopping for innocent bystanders. She would have been killed just as he had if they had stumbled upon the scene, whether they meant to or not. Rage does that to men, and when several are enraged, there's no telling what a good man might do.
It had been him to practically throw her into the arms of her other lover, Raoul. He had been the one who had let go, and now he was left with nothing. His life was void of music.
It would be near impossible bringing the large organ up to his cabin, and even if he did, she would undoubtedly hear its dark chords, revealing his secret. No, all he had now was the untouched violin that sat in the corner of his home. He felt no inspiration to play; no muse came to him since he found Christine was with child.
It was as if at that very moment, he knew she would never return to him, reality had set in and sent him into the world of day. Night was a world long forgotten, and how could he return to the passion of pain when he had felt the passions of love?
No, he thought, as he walked through the catacombs underneath the Paris opera house. I have to make peace with my daemons; I have to watch another opera, just for the sake of music.
(' ) '
-
No more memories,
no more silent tears . . .
No more gazing across
the wasted years . . .
Help me say goodbye.
Christine looked out the carriage window terrified of returning to what felt like home. The chateau she lived in with her husband did not feel like it belonged to her as well, and she realized that she would never feel that way. She would forever be a guest who was treated with every privilege, including everything served to her on a silver platter.
No matter how much she tried to touch it up so that the house was more of a home, it was cold, sterile, and too bright. She had come to terms that it would never feel like home the way Erik's did. She was use to the darkness of the opera house. The house she had began to live in more than her own small room inside the opera house.
Why do I have to be sick? She thought sadly. It had been three months since she had sung for the Opera Populaire, but when she had stopped sleeping properly, she noticed she could no longer sing the aria's that were required.
She told no one, and loathed the fact her teacher was not there to instruct her on how to keep her instrument in tune. One day, during rehearsal, she had felt a pain in her abdomen. Later that night she risked confiding in her husband, and when she had told Raoul, he begged her to take leave of absence for a year. She was astonished he would ask of such a thing! Her singing would be even more poorly out of tune by then at the rate she was going. Therefore, when she refused him, requesting that he do not concern himself, he went above her head to the managers.
She, to that day, never found out what he said to them, but when both Firmin and Andre approached her, they were not unhappy or angry with her, why they were beaming.
"Vicomtess de Chagny, please understand that this isn't a decision we want to make, but you must take a leave of absence until, you are better." Andre said in a smooth voice.
Christine felt tears well in her eyes and looked around at all the people around her on the stage. She felt small, and that those eyes of her friends and family were mocking her. Andre and Firmin were laughing, laughing at her as though they had planned for her to come back only to tell her to leave. She remembered thinking with a hate so pure it frightened her, how much Raoul had paid them to let her go.
This is a sick game, she thought bitterly, running out of the rehearsal to her old dressing room.
"Christine!" Raoul had called out to her behind the locked door as she had fallen down on her divan.
"Go away Raoul! You just don't want me to sing anymore! You don't want you wife to be an opera rat! You want me to change who I am!" She said angrily through her tears.
"No Christine, that is not at all, I would have never told you to come back if I really felt that way… Please forgive me darling, please forgive me, it is all for the best..."
Christine remembered that night as though it were only last. It was the first time she had ever been upset with Raoul. Enough to silently whisper "I wish Erik were here."
Erik was not there however; a paper had declared him dead. She had been secretly having Michelle go out and buy the newspaper for her. Michelle was then to remove only the obituaries and bring them directly to Christine without the Vicomte's knowledge. Of course, the dear maid found this a little strange, but never asked the Vicomtess any questions. Christine had given up all hope of seeing Erik's message, three simple words he promised her when it was time for his death. Therefore, when it happened, she clearly didn't believe it right away. "Erik is dead." Had been printed neatly in the bottom left hand corner of the page about a week before the incident.
"Erik!" she cried, whilst waking from a terrible dream. She was in the underground home, and they had practice her lessons late into the night. It usually was about a half an hour venture up to her dressing room, and usually when it was this late she preferred to just stay in the room that he had made just for her. Getting out of the bed, she hurried out the door of her room to find him.
There he was, sitting at the chess table, along with the Persian man she only knew as Nadir.
"Oh… I apologize for interrupting…" Christine mumbled, suddenly embarrassed. Nadir always made her remember that the situation that she and Erik were in was not proper. His presence always had her feeling as though she did not belong down here, a Persephone to her Hades.
"While hello Mademoiselle Daaé." Nadir said quietly and looked at Erik sternly. She watched as Erik smiled crookedly at his friend, as if to say 'it could not be helped!' he then turned to Christine and rose to meet her half way.
"What is wrong my dear?" he asked her pushing curls that had fallen into her eyes back from her face.
"I had the most horrible dream… we were out… out in a park, merely picnicking and men were staring hatefully. Suddenly, before I knew it, I was behind a wall that I could see through, they beat you down in front of me… When I finally figured out that I had to imagine the wall away, they were gone and your blood formed a river I was swept away in!"
Erik chuckled. "My, you are quite imaginative, aren't you Christine?"
"Erik! It is not funny! You were killed because men did not understand you!" she cried, allowing tears to fall from her eyes.
"Trust me, angel… I know how to defend myself against the evils of mankind." Erik throatily replied.
Christine furrowed her brow, confused by his cryptic words. She worried so much about him these days. Wondered what he really planned for Il Muto, which would be preformed soon. Although the managers had cast her as the pageboy, Erik was hell bent on her learning the words and song of the Comtess.
She heard Nadir clear his throat, waking them from their moment.
"I think… that Mlle. Daaé is right to fear for you Erik, I have seen what some men have done to survivors of the Franco Prussian war… They are scarred as well and men treat them…"
"Nadir!" Erik interrupted; Christine and he had not stopped gazing into each other's eyes yet. She felt herself wanting to wrap her arms around him and hold his head to her chest. Why must men be so cruel? She wondered. Why would they want to hurt her dear friend, her teacher?
If Erik hadn't had his arms on her arms, she would of done just that.
"Christine… what can I do to rest your mind?" he asked her.
"I just… what if I'm not here? What if I may be away, for whatever reason… and you were to die? I couldn't bare not knowing." She wept, finally breaking from his grasp, and placing a hand on his chest, over his heart.
Such a dear man, Christine thought, who would ever hate him so much as to hurt him?
"I'll make you a promise Christine… if, you are gone, for whatever reason… and I were to, die… for whatever reason. Nadir would know… I would either call on him before my death, or he would find me. Then, he will write to paper, and ask that a simple obituary be placed in it, something only you and I will recognize."
"What, though Erik? What would be simple but only we would understand?" She asked confused, she did not like this plan, for whatever reason, but it was all that was being offered to her.
"Something simple… How about 'Erik is dead'? I find that many things can be summed up in a few words, some of the most important things, in three."
"Erik…" Nadir said with warning in his voice, which Christine could not imagine.
They both were so confusing, her Erik and his Nadir. Why was everything so hidden?
"Go back to bed Christine." I shall come to you in a few moments, to say goodnight.
She returned to her room, only to lie back in the bed and close her eyes… sometime later, when she was half asleep, she heard her door open and Erik enter the room. She did not know the reason why that she did it at the time, but she pretended to be asleep when he came into the room.
She couldn't hear his footsteps, as she strained to hear him.
Suddenly, she felt his breath on her face, warm and touched with a hint of brandy.
"Oh Christine, why must you always mock me?" he asked her sleeping form. She felt him stroke her face with his hand, and tuck her curls behind her ear.
Then his hand was gone and his lips were on her temple, tracing chastely to her ear.
"You will NEVER be away so that you do not know if I'm dead… NEVER" he whispered in her ear.
Before she could respond to his threat, he was out of the room, never knowing she had been awake to hear his eerie words.
Slowly she began to weep, not because she was scared for Erik, but because she was, for the first time, afraid for herself.
That had been the first time Christine had realized, there was more to her angel of music than just the sweet and charming side he had been showing her. When he had killed Bouquet the night of Il Muto, those words kept repeating themselves in her head. "You will NEVER be away so that you do not know if I'm dead…. NEVER." She realized in those few moments, as she watched the body hanging from the stage… all those moments under the opera house, all those mysterious words were really about his love for her. Her teacher was in love with her, though he had never told her directly. He was in love, and he would do anything for her to be happy and return his feelings. Suddenly she had felt sick to her stomach, and saw Raoul dashing towards her wondering if she was all right.
Oh Erik, why did you have to kill Bouquet? Christine thought, as the cab continue to move closer to her old home.
Would I have stayed for you, learnt to love you, if you hadn't been a cruel murderer? Would you still have been alive? Why must I still love you when I knew you to be wretched?
She remembered how she had carefully ripped out the tiny article and hid it in her corset until later that night. That night, she placed it in a drawer of her vanity. It was all she had left of him. She had no petals from his first rose, no sheets from the score of Don Juan, not even his simple ring, this small parchment that would fade and eventually be to old to read was all she had left of her beautiful Angel. You were the real beauty, and I the beast. At that realization, she began to weep, and did not stop until she fell into blissful oblivion.
She was afraid of the things that the large building did to her. It made her wish, made her regret, and most of all, made her bitterly angry at Raoul and the world.
As though, he were on cue, Raoul spoke. "I'm sorry I made you quit, Christine, but all will be explained tomorrow when Dr. Leblanc arrives."
"Tomorrow this, tomorrow that Raoul! Why leave the mess to the good Doctor, Why not tell me yourself what is so terribly wrong with me that I had to quit my passion!" She said fiercely.
Raoul did not say anything or look at her, after she finished and Christine didn't apologize this time for her outburst. This time she meant it.