Forget Me Not: Chapter 12

'Tis me again! Thank you for all your lovely reviews, it really makes my day I've decided to rush out this next chapter, as I have some ideas in this head of mine which, like everything else in this head of mine, are jumbled and need to be put on paper. Or Microsoft Word.

I hate to say this, but I have to tell you what's going to happen in this chapter, as it might make people mad if I don't this will be the chapter that is T rated, as there is some EC…stuff in it. It's nothing graphic, I swear it's not, but just so your aware.

I do not own The Phantom of the Opera. Yet.

When Erik awoke, the doubts he had been expecting flooded his mind. He hadn't slept well, he was awoken by dreams of Christine kissing him, them throwing him to the ground and running to the Victome…

He walked out of his bedroom, sleepy, but maintaining grace. He stared at the closed door where she slept, and he couldn't help but wonder what she was dreaming about. Good things, perhaps? He shook his head, a small smile on his face. Most likely not- he doubted she meant anything she'd said.

And yet, she had kissed him…

He sat down at the organ, and lightly placed his fingers on the keys. The one cure to his tormented nights was his music…

--

Christine awoke, a small smile on her face. At the sound of Erik's beautiful music, however, she sank back down lazily into her pillows and allowed it to fill her senses. Her euphoria was interrupted, however, by a sour note and Erik's voice, cursing loudly. She couldn't help but smile as she extracted herself from the bedspread and began to remake her bed. She stared at her rumpled gown- Erik had destroyed all of her gowns, and she had brought none of her own, forcing her to sleep in less than modest attire. She began to dress, then opened the door softly.

He sat at his organ, his back turned away from her. He didn't notice her, or if he did, he chose to say nothing. She tried to be soundless as she walked towards him. He continued to play the wrong note, and shi shoulders continued to tense. She softly placed a hand on one, and he turned to face her.

"I know how I want it to sound, but I can not seem to make it sound that way!" he cried, his voice frustrated.

"Good morning to you, too," she grinned, kissing his cheek. He spun around to his music, and Christine simply sat down on a chair near him. A thought occurred to her, suddenly, making her heart beat wildly.

"Erik?"

"Hmm?"

"What time is it?"

Erik looked around, as if he was looking for a clock. Finally, he said, "No idea."

Christine's heart beat faster. Raoul would be waking up. He'd find her letter. He'd go looking for her, and yet, he wouldn't find her…would he?

She shook the thought from her mind and once again became lost in Erik's music.

--

Dear Raoul,

I'm sorry. But I can't do this any longer. Please know, even though I don't love you enough to be your wife, I love you very much as a friend. I will always think of you as my brother, my old playmate. Forgive me.

Love always,

Christine

Your Little Lotte

Raoul re-read the note several times, not sure whether the note he was reading was real. It looked like Christine's hand-writing, sure- but she would never leave him! Would she?

He tried to figure out where she could have gone. He still didn't quite believe she was serious, didn't really believe that she had left. Where did she go?

Erik.

The name rang into his head, and he shook it wildly. No. She would NOT do that. How could she betray his trust like that? No, it couldn't be true.

And yet, it might be…

Raoul re-read the letter again, trying to find some hidden clue as to where she was. He came up empty, and he dropped the letter in anguish. She'd most likely gone to the monster, there was hardly a doubt…even after their marriage, Raoul was never really sure that they'd stopped corresponding…and that was the reason he was so reluctant to go away on business.

There was only one person he could think of who would give him answers.

--

Madeline Giry and her daughter, Meg, resided in a small house in France, near the ruins of the Opera Populaire. The Madame had become the ballet mistress for another local, but vastly smaller, opera house, and Meg had become a dancer there. Their income was severely reduced, but the two of them managed all the same.

The Victome stared at the tiny house. It really did pale in comparison to his own, but he went up the dirty cobblestone pathway all the same. He hesitated before knocking on the door- did he know what to say? He nodded, then knocked. The short Meg Giry answered, eyes wide.

"Victome…" she bowed clumsily, unsure of how to treat him. Raoul just smiled and waved his hand.

"Miss Giry, there is no need for such formality…tell me, is your mother in?"

Meg nodded.

"Maman, the Victome…"

Madeline ran as fast as her cane would allow to the door. She, as well, bowed, her long braid nearly touching the ground. She quickly stepped back and allowed him entrance.

"Madame…" he said, once she had put on the tea and seated him comfortably. "Christine…" he paused, biting his lower lip. "Is gone…"

Madeline's eyes widened, then closed as she rested her head in her hands. Meg stared at him.

"She's gone?" she cried, forgetting she was in the presence of a noble. She quickly realized this, and averted her eyes, mumbling apologies.

"Madame…I believe she is with…" Raoul swallowed, forcing himself to use his real name. "Erik…"

"I see," was Madeline's only response.

"Madame Giry, if you have anything at all…if you can tell me anything at all…."

Madame Giry looked up. The man before her, this noble man, was pleading with her, only wanting the return of his wife…

She should have known something like this was bound to happen. She knew they were in love…she knew Christine was unhappy at home, and she did nothing…She felt a pang of guilt as she realized she actually encouraged her to go to him…in a sense, she had broken up their marriage! Madeline sighed.

She had to be loyal to Erik. As bad as she felt, she was Erik's one friend…

"I'm sorry, monsieur. I know nothing."

--

Erik's fist pounded onto the keys, making an awful sound. His beautiful tenor let loose a string of obscenities, at which Christine cringed.

"Why can't I get this bloody piece RIGHT?" he screamed, throwing the notes he had off the stand. Christine sighed as she stared at his back. Hours had passed, and he had barely said a word to her. He had barely spoken at all, unless it was to curse his piece to "bloody hell!".

Unsure of what to do, she stood up and placed a hand on his back.

"Maybe you need to leave it alone for a few hours…"

"Not until I get it right," he said through clenched teeth. She sighed and removed her hand, sitting back down. It was an awfully selfish thing to think, she knew, but…she simply wished he would pay her a bit more attention. She knew that music was probably his number one priority, but she couldn't help but wish that it was she he devoted all his time to…

"Damn it!" Erik bellowed, interrupting her thoughts.

"Is there any way at all I can help you?" she asked, hoping he remembered that she was actually there.

Erik sighed, then shook his head. "Not unless you, my dear, know how to make this sound fluid…"

"Well, may I see?" Christine asked. Truth be told, she would likely have no idea how to make Erik's music right, but she had to at least try…

She sat down beside him on the bench, peering at his work. Erik sighed and leaned back, his long fingers on the back of the bench.

"I don't…" Christine started, and Erik sighed. Christine read it over again, trying to be of some use to him. Having really no idea, she tried her best. "Try changing the C minor to a D minor, Erik…" she saw him give her a skeptical look. "Maybe…"

"Alright, then," he played the piece, substituting the C minor for a D minor. To his surprise, and to hers, the piece finally sounded the way he wanted. He stared at her in disbelief.

"I suppose that was your problem," she said, a small smile forming on her lips. She saw that he was also smiling, a rare occurrence with Erik.

"You've been well taught," he said, reading the notes over again and changing the C to a D.

"I have a wonderful teacher," she grinned. She caught his eyes for just a moment, and they glowed with pride.

He then stood up, stretching his tense muscles.

"Thank you for your help," he said simply, picking up his notebook. She stood up and followed him.

"Erik," she started, unsure of what she was going to say. The tall man turned around to face her. "I was just…you haven't really…mentioned last night at all, and-"

"Nor have you," Erik replied curtly.

"Well, no, but…I was waiting for you to say something-"

"As was I, of you," he said simply. Christine bit her lip.

"Well, the fact is…" she sighed, furrowing her brow. This was harder than she thought! "I meant every word,"

Erik was silent. Christine began to grow uncomfortable again, and she, for the hundredth time since she'd met him, felt as though he had the ability to read her thoughts.

Unfortunately, had no such ability, and as he watched her, he struggled to think of what might be going on in that head of hers. Was it a trick? A plot, a ploy? Or was it because she felt sympathetic towards him, wanting to make him feel better. Or, was it -dare he say- the truth?

Oh, Erik wanted so to believe the latter. He wanted so for the latter to be true. He studied her face carefully. Slightly pink cheeked, a fingerin her hair, teasing a curl, eyes to the ground.

"I love you," she whispered, and Erik's heart nearly stopped.

He willed himself to believe her. She looked up at him, a smile on her face.

"Do you love me?" she asked, and the innocence of her words almost broke his heart. Of course he did! He could never, ever feel anything different for her…no matter how hard he may try…

"Yes," he replied finally, his voice broken with emotion. Christine stared at him, her eyes wide, happy…happy? Happy that he loved her?

"Then, Erik," she whispered, coming near him. "I suppose that things are alright…"

"For now," Erik put in, a small smile gracing his full lips.

"For now," she agreed, standing inches away from him.

She kissed him, and he knew it was the truth. Unable to stop himself, he lifted her up, taking her to her bedroom.

For one night, all of the pain went away.

Poor Erik and Christine. They really think their problems are over, don't they? Little do they know… This is not the end, folks, in fact, I foresee maybe even ten more chapters.

I'm really displeased with the way this chapter turned out. I didn't want to make it really smutty, as that would ruin the whole thing. But the way I did it, I just don't think is that good. Sorry if I disappointed anyone.

Next chapter will be better, promise!