As always, thanks for the reviews…Erik's Angel…I'm glad to see you back and reviewing! Your comments are always so sweet!
As for the spelling of Chagny…for some unknown reason my spell check likes to change it to Changy…lol. It also likes to change Daae to Daee. So sorry for these little issues.
Okay…on with the show…
-Nico
Mimi instantly wished she hadn't uttered his name.
It seemed to open the floodgates…images were swirling in front of her eyes…
A boat…a dark cavern illuminated only by candles…a rooftop…a chandelier…a choice…a kiss…
She brought her hands to her head, desperately trying to close off the emotions that were rising within her too quickly to prevent.
Erik watched as Mimi shoved past him further into her room, staggering around as if drunk.
A song was ebbing into Mimi's mind…a song she all at once recognized and feared…
"Past the point of no return…"She suddenly turned on him, tears brimming on her eyelashes. "What have you done to me," she rasped, sounding as if she were in pain.
Erik remained silent.
"What is happening to me?" Mimi demanded.
As she staggered, she found herself before a large mirror, framed in gold with only minor abrasions to the otherwise smooth surface.
She straightened, staring at her reflection.
Slowly, she allowed her fingertips to graze the surface, halting as they came to an otherwise unnoticeable separation between the glass and the frame.
Erik smiled as he watched her movements, quietly moving behind her.
"Erik," she breathed, turning to him and allowing her hand to rest upon the cold mask covering his face. "Can you ever forgive me?"
Erik's eyes darkened as memories suddenly resurfaced. His instant reaction to Christine's memory returning had been one of jubilation…yet now, now that she knew who she really was…the fact that she chose Raoul over him was painfully apparent.
"How much do you remember, Christine," Erik asked slowly, pulling her hand from his face.
Hearing him call her Christine nearly caused Mimi to collapse.
Pitiful creature of darkness…what kind of life have you known…God give me courage to show you…you are not alone…
The words she had spoken to him more than a hundred years ago seemed to hang just above their heads.
A sob hitched in Christine's throat.
"I remember everything," she said suddenly, tears now falling down her face.
Erik pushed the urge to embrace her away.
After all, she had not chosen him.
Pain…raw pain…consumed him.
Anger.
Despair.
"Christine," Erik murmured. "Why…why…"
She lowered her head. "It was safe," she said pathetically, her eyes fixed to the floor. "He was safe."
Erik made a sound of protest causing Christine to lift her eyes. "You were a murderer," she said suddenly. "You killed…time and again…you killed Joseph Buquet…Piangi…"
"For you!" Erik interrupted. "You couldn't see…you couldn't see all I did…"
"Stop…please stop," Christine said suddenly, once again placing her hands to her head.
She was crying freely now, her thin body shaking with her realizations…with the desperation she felt to control these feelings…
"You must leave," she said suddenly. "I am not who you think I am…this is a dream…this is all a horrible dream…"
"Christine…" Erik began.
"Stop calling me that!" She shrieked. "Please…stop…I am not her…she is dead…buried for more than sixty years…this is not happening!"
Erik felt as if he had been stabbed.
He grasped Christine's shoulders, his large, cold hands biting through her thin shirt. "You are her," he growled. "You have returned to me…"
"Please," Mimi pleaded.
"Do you think this is all just a coincidence, Christine?" He continued, shaking her lightly. "Do you think things like this happen all the time? You have been given a second chance…
"You're hurting me!" Mimi cried, trying to pull herself from his grasp.
"Do you realize the tremendous gift you have been given?" Erik demanded, his voice ethereal and frightening. "Will you allow history to repeat itself, now, after all this time?"
Rage began to boil within Mimi. She had not asked for this. She had been on the brink of true happiness…and then this…this man…had appeared in her life…disrupting the harmony she had worked so hard for…
"I am not who you think…" Mimi said, viciously freeing herself, finally finding the backbone that had melted along with Erik's kiss. "My name is Mimi De Chagny, I am Christine's great-granddaughter…and Christine herself is dead…"
"But you remember…you remember…" Erik yelled, matching her frenzied pitch.
"No, I do not," Mimi lied. "I have nothing to do with you, or Christine's choices. And I will not allow you to punish me for them!"
"They were your choices!" Erik roared. "And now you must lay to rest the ghosts of the past…"
"Conquer your own demons, Erik!" Mimi returned. "For I will not go to war on the grounds of insanity and impossibility!"
"You are lying to yourself," Erik said, his voice rumbling. "You are denying this miracle…this resurrection…you are denying me once again!"
"Leave!" Mimi demanded. "Leave this place and never return!"
"You can only suppress and deny for so long, Christine," Erik fumed. "Be warned; there will be no third chances."
He laid his hand on the doorknob and turned it…it was miraculously unlocked.
He turned to face her again.
Her hair was askew…her blouse had shifted…rage burned her cheeks.
She was as beautiful as ever, and it nearly broke his heart to leave her standing there.
The sun was rising, sweeping the winter sky with pinks and blues the like Mimi had never seen before.
The taxi Mimi rode in slowed outside of the cemetery gates, stopping just before the entrance.
"Strange place to visit on Christmas morning," the driver observed as Mimi fumbled in her purse for the fare. "Seems to me that today is better spent with the living."
"Keep the change," Mimi muttered, shoving bills into the driver's waiting hand.
"You want me to wait for you?" The driver asked suddenly. "It's pretty cold out…and it will be tough to get another cab all the way out here…"
"No," Mimi said quickly. "I don't need you to wait."
The driver nodded. "Merry Christmas," he said as Mimi slammed the door.
She had only been to the cemetery twice before…once as a very young child. Her parents had made the long journey from London to Paris when she was 5, determined to have Mimi connect with her family's legacy.
Since then, Mimi had gone only once more, on the same day she arrived in Paris as a member of the cast of the Paris Opera House. She had sat before the enormous De Chagny mausoleum, allowing her fingertips to trace the writing on the sides of the marble structure, desperately trying to connect with ancestors who had died long before she was born.
The ground was covered in a thick layer of snow. The cemetery caretaker had obviously already been busy, clearing out pathways in anticipation of visitors.
The De Chagny Mausoleum rested just south of the Daae tomb…a request Christine had made many years prior to her death. Her devotion to her father initiated the request; her love of Paris sealed the desire.
Mimi slowly climbed the angel-guarded walkway leading up to the Daae tomb. She laid a single tulip at the gated grave entrance. She lightly kissed her fingertips and pressed a cold hand to the deeply chiseled Daae name.
She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the icy cold winter air.
Slowly, she closed her eyes and walked around the platform surrounding the medium-sized structure that housed the remains of Charles Daae, resting her hand against the tomb for balance.
In a moment, she would be looking down the other side of the Daae Mausoleum, directly at the much larger, much more lavish final resting place of her great grandparents.
Mimi slowly opened her eyes.
Panic grasped her throat.
Her knees buckled, causing her land unceremoniously on the hard marble platform.
Instead of the gilded angels and stark-white marble was a patch of even, snow-covered unspoiled land.
The De Chagny grave no longer existed.
"You knew you would not find them here." A voice from behind Mimi said firmly.
Mimi did not have to turn around.
She knew who stood there, waiting for her to admit defeat.
"I didn't want to believe," she said softly, sobs breaking her voice.
"Some things are true whether or not we believe them, Christine," Erik said.
Christine Daae rose to her feet slowly, turning to face the man…
He stood rigidly, his long black coat swirling by his ankles, lifting and lowering in the stiff breeze.
His eyes were as blue as the overhead sky.
They pierced Christine's soul just as they had years ago.
"There is something you must have realized by now, Erik," Christine said. The pitch of her voice had changed slightly, taking on the nearly ancient accent of Paris at the turn of the century.
Erik cocked his head to one side, inviting her to continue.
"Mine is not the only grave that has vanished," she continued, her voice cold.
Erik's eyes widened with realization.
"For nearly sixty years he has lain beside me," she said, her eyes scanning the vacant space before her. "And it would appear that now, his sleep has been disturbed as well."
