Forget Me Not: Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Hello! Thank you all for the kind reviews! I don't own The Phantom of the Opera :( Unless you count the book and DVD……..

Erik was, to say the least, confused. This woman…what was her name? Daae, or Chagny….both of these sounded familiar….and her first name…Christine! He knew that name, Christine Daae…Christine Chagny, not as well, but it all sounded familiar…

Erik swore he didn't know her. And why should he? No woman had ever tried to make contact with him before. Just by putting his Punjab around her neck was the most physical contact he'd made with a woman in years. But her words kept coming back to him…

"You're my angel of music, my tutor, my friend! Why do you act as if you do not know me when deep in your heart you know you do!"

He climbed off the gondola carefully. Still lost in thought, he made his way to his desk. Angel of Music? He was no angel…in fact, he thought himself quite the opposite. The Devil's Boy, he'd been since he was a child at the circus. No one had ever cared for him in any way except for Madeline Giry…

But this woman…she spoke of friendship…that was something that was alien to Erik. His only friend was Madeline. Even her daughter couldn't bear to look at him.

Sitting down, he picked up his quill. He began to sketch the outline of a face…the woman had been beautiful, there was no denying. He tried to think back to her face. Chocolate eyes, mahogany spiral curls, porcelain skin…

He stared at his creation in disbelief. He had seen something like this, not exactly, but something like this, before. And what's more, he swore that he had drawn it.

Christine lay on her bed, crying once more. Why did he not remember her? Her maid came to her, stroking her curls, fixing her tea.

"My dear, it will all be alright," she said, trying to make her feel better. She knew not why she cried, but knew that she had not sobbed like this since Raoul and her had gotten in their biggest fight…but that had been years ago….

"Christine, I never want you seeing him again!" Raoul had screamed, holding her at arms length.

"But Raoul!" Christine had protested, tears staining her cheeks. "I don't love him! You can trust me! I don't even know if he's alive!"

"My dear…" Raoul had said, trying to comfort her. "It is not you that I distrust, but him. How am I to be sure that he won't take you as he has in the past?"

"Raoul, I need to say goodbye."

"Well then you should have said that when we were leaving!" Raoul had chuckled. Christine glared at him.

"How can you make light of this? Raoul, I broke his heart-"

"He had no heart!"

Christine had slapped him. Her fury was growing stronger. Raoul rubbed at his cheek. As quick as he could, he grabbed her wrists as tight as he could.

"Christine," he had said, trying to be calm. "I am your husband and you are my wife. If you have any respect for us at all, you will let me help you make the right decisions. This man will only bring you harm, Christine. Let me guide you from that! Two years ago you were begging for me to free you, and now you're venturing into the same trap. Now I'll ask you to kindly never raise your hand to me again. Do you understand?"

"Raoul," Christine breathed in deeply, trying to stay calm herself. "I fear that you are not trying to help me make my decisions so much as making them for me. Are you really banning me from the Opera House?"

"Why do you want to go? The place is desolate and destroyed now, the only person left that you desire to see is that murderer!"

"Do not call him a that, Raoul! Erik was just confused, he needed to learn!"
"That does not pardon his sins!"

"Perhaps not, but if you will remember, husband, you were quite willing to kill him as he was you. You could have become just as guilty as he if I had not stopped you!"

"I do not believe the killing of that monster is a crime, it's more of a tribute to society!"

Christine had broken away from him and ran into their bedroom, shutting him out for the next three days.

The maid patted Christine's back as she shuddered at the memory. Never had she seen any two people who loved each other so mad at each other! And who was this 'Erik' that they spoke of? Was he the reason Christine cried today?

Erik sat at his organ, thinking. He began to play. But his mind kept drifting to that damn woman! Why was he thinking of her so? She was just a woman. She merely was confusing him with someone else.

But who else? Erik was a hard man to confuse with someone. Not many of the people from above wore a mask…his hand went to his face immediately. Pulling off his white half mask, he covered his face with his hands. His elbows hit the organ keys, making a horrible sound. His fingers ran over his deformed skin. The Devil Child, indeed! He could be no human. No human was ever shunned to live beneath an opera house purely for the exterior of his face! No, he could not be human. If he were, he would be above the ground like every one else, watching the opera with his wife, or better yet, composing operas!

He pulled a yellowed parchment from his desk. He had written this long ago. If only it could be played for all to hear! He could bring the world to it's knees with this opera, purely because of its dramatic nature. He began to strike the chords, playing his opera. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend he was being cheered for, admired, loved. Loved.

He stopped playing. Cursing the world, he shoved his music notes off the ledge of the organ. If no one could hear it but himself, was it worth playing? He slowly put on his mask. He felt better this way. Even he was disgusted when he looked upon his face. He would never be loved.

Christine lay awake on her bed. All her tears had been cried, and now it was time for her to think. Somehow, she had to get him to remember her! Suddenly, she shot up, causing her head to throb in pain.

Madame Giry!

She got in the carriage as quickly as she could. Erik had adored her, he wouldn't have forgotten her without a cause. And if anyone knew that cause, it would be her! Madame Giry and Meg, she knew, lived in a little house near the opera house ruins. She had to speak with her!

"Oh, Christine!" Madame Giry cried, hugging her tight. "You've finally returned! Meg!" The pale blond girl came dashing to the door. Her eyes widened as she saw her best friend.

"Christine! She cried happily.

"Madame Giry…" Christine asked, unable to mask her smile. "I need to ask you something…about Erik."

Madame Giry was silent.

"Christine, did you, by any chance, go to see him?"

"Yes."

Madame Giry buried her face in her hands.

"Come, come child, get warm. I'll tell you everything."

"It started when you left him, Christine," Madame Giry said, handing her a cup of tea. "He was heart broken, as you can imagine. Twice he attempted suicide, and twice I found him before he could finally end it, thank God." Christine covered her mouth in shock, tears welling up in her eyes.

"My Lord…I can't believe I brought him to it…I can't believe he almost…" she began to sob. Meg patted her back, trying to cheer her up. Madame Giry continued.

"He destroyed everything that reminded him of you, my dear. The drawings, the mannequin, the dresses, even the ring. The only thing he couldn't part with was Don Juan. But everything else, gone." Christine still sobbed. Madame Giry patted her hand.

"Little by little, he began to force himself to forget you. He'd beg me to tell him stories just so his mind would be too busy to think of you. He began to forget the little details. The colour of your eyes, the name of your favourite song to sing. He began to convince himself that you were just his imagination…" she paused. Christine was trying her best to stop her tears, but every time she heard something new, she cried a little more. Meg stroked her hair.

"And it worked. But it wasn't enough. Christine, he needed to forget you entirely. He wrote more music than he'd ever written before. Dark, horrible music, not the beautiful, love songs he used to write for you. And eventually, all memory of you was gone. I'm sorry, my dear." Madame Giry stared at her, hoping she was alright.

"So he won't remember me? No matter what?" she asked finally, in a small voice.

"He might, if you really try. But Christine, I have never seen him so happy as he was without you, I'm sorry, love. But without you, he was content. By pushing him to remember, he probably will. But even if he does, he'll go back to being miserable. Without you, he sinks into a scary depression. He needs you." Madame Giry stroked her hand, tears in her small eyes. Christine let out a sigh.

"I need him to remember me. No matter what."

I know that's an awful place to leave it, but more will come soon! Please review!