Chapter 8

Hey, glad y'all are enjoying. I have another nice long chapter for you (aren't I kind?). But first…. review replies!

Twinkle22-Oh God, I'm not doing very well, am I? I forgot you too! So, along with my deepest apologies, I dedicate this chapter to you, along with gerbear and Internet Ghost.

Internet Ghost-Kat, thanks for crapping up this chapter (private joke here, people-I won't explain, because if I do, this chapter will become even longer than it is already), I have therefore decided to dedicate this to you. And thank you for your lovely reviews.

Operatic-You know, I though exactly the same thing, only I couldn't think of a better word to put in. So I just stuck with that. Glad you're enjoying anyhoo.

gerbear-You still remain my most faithful reader, so this is dedicated to you once again. Please enjoy!

Before starting this chapter, can I just stress that this phic is PREDOMINANTLY 2004 ANDREW LLOYD-WEBBER FILM BASED. Although there are snippets of Leroux and Kay here and there. Just thought I'd stress that, I don't think I made that clear (or, in fact, even mentioned it at all) when I was beginning this phic.

So here it is…. Chapter 8 DUUUUUUUUN! DUN DUN DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! And that was so bloody pointless.

He grinned at her, issued a short, sharp nod in reply, and then continued to kiss her feverishly, drugged in her scent. He'd never felt so alive; never felt so full of purpose. He had no idea what he was doing-did it matter? All he knew was that he was doing what he felt was right. And she felt the same way. He knew. Because she'd told him so.

He began to sing to her, sensually and seductively, the notes rumbling from the very pit of his soul.

"What raging fire shall flood the soul?

What rich desire unlocks its door?

What sweet seduction lies before us?"

Christine thought she'd just about spontaneously combusted. By the time he'd finished the song, she was hot and trembling with lust. The song meant so much to her now, and she just knew that the words would be etched on her very soul forever. She gasped throatily as he continued to pepper her with kisses. She moved towards him and kissed him back. He gently prised open her teeth open and allowed his tongue to roam the deepest recesses of her mouth, running it along the roof of her mouth, sending shivers down her spine. As he pulled away gently, she could see the amber fire blazing in his eyes. She now knew exactly what he was after-and she wasn't one to deny it him. She breathed raggedly,

"You make Raoul seem like one of the marble statues in the opera lobby."

He burst out laughing, and swung her around. She laid a hand on his face-and he could tell that he was not going to like what was bound to come next.

"Take the mask off, Erik," she breathed, "Hide no longer."

He sighed.

"You know I can't do that, Christine."

"Oh, please!" she laughed, "That isn't an issue. I love you for you. I don't give a damn about some facial disfigurement. I can live with that," She paused, and then continued, "Maybe if you accepted it, then others would."

"I'm not taking it off."

"Why the hell not?"

He paused, and then shook his head.

"You wouldn't understand,"

"Try me."

He looked at her determined face, and sighed.

"Well…. it's just…. I've been discriminated against for this bloody disfigurement all my life. Do you have any idea how humiliating, how painful it is, knowing that your mother doesn't want you; is repulsed by the very sight of you? Do you know, she never even held me, Christine, she couldn't bear it. She couldn't handle it. She couldn't love me. I was just some little piece of shit that just happened to be the product of her womb. And I couldn't blame her for hating me. Any mother would-wouldn't they? So I ran away. Because I loved her so much. I couldn't bear to put her through the torture of seeing my putrid carcass every day. I ran away to join the gypsies.

"That…. that place…. being there was like living hell. Having to sit in a cage all day, constantly being laughed at, gasped at…. some children, brought in by their families, even burst into tears at the very sight of me. After the Giry woman saved me, I had to find another way to strike terror into people's hearts; to gain their respect. I had to be able to have some kind of power, after all those years of having none, and being vulnerable without it.

"And I found that power-through the Phantom. Being him allowed to have that respect that I'd longed for-yet I knew that some people, like the Buquet bastard, still laughed at me-still mocked me when they thought I wasn't there, watching and listening. But those people-they underestimated the Angel of Music-I see everything; I hear everything. And I wasn't going to let it slide, most definitely not. My Punjab rope was my only friend-the power pulsated through it, flowing into my fingertips. I killed those who wouldn't listen-those who had no respect for the Opera Ghost. It gave me more power-more respect.

"The mask has protected me for so long; I cannot bear to be without it. Do you remember, Christine, when I pushed you away when you removed my mask the night after we first met? I did it because you'd taken away my protection. I felt vulnerable without it; like a tortoise without its shell. Surely you can understand that? I cannot remove this mask. If I remove it, I will lose all that power I've gained. If I remove it, you'll see the monster I am. If I remove it, then you will see the fallen angel that I am."

The tears began to roll down his cheeks. Christine held him to her, stroking his hair like he was a young child. As she rocked him, she talked to him soothingly:

"Erik, you can put all that behind you now. You don't need this power. The Phantom of The Opera…. well, in the end, I had no respect for him. I hated him. But you're not the Phantom any longer. You are Erik, and I fell in love with you-the musical genius who nurtured me, and made me the soprano I am now. The Phantom of The Opera is a bloody idiot. That's not you, Erik. Leave that all behind now. Take off the mask, and live your life as Erik-the man who I want to spend the rest of my life with. You are not a fallen angel. Everybody makes mistakes-if you take the mask off, then you can shed all those mistakes, and be a good man. Please, Erik. Do it for me."

Suddenly, he had lost all energy to argue. She had a point. A very good one, in fact. Typical-just typical of these bloody women-they were just born to argue, and invariably win. He shrugged.

"Okay. You win." he said grudgingly. Haltingly, he raised his hand to the mask-and removed it.

She reached up and stroked the blemished side of his face-then kissed it lightly.

"You see? All you need to do is accept yourself for who you are." she whispered.

He had to admit, he felt a whole lot better without it on. Relieved, relaxed, and unbelievably calm. And he felt real. Like he was living a lie no longer.

He took her hand.

"Let me take you on a journey," he whispered silkily, "Past the point of no return."

He chuckled lightly.

"I trust you remember where the bed is?" he asked as her led her to the veiled corner of the lair….

Wahey! Christine and Erik, together once more! Le w00t! Ahem regains composure Hope y'all enjoyed, hopefully will get Chapter 9 up sometime soon, only once again the old writer's block has set in once again, plus I have a load of school crap on. I will try me best. See you all next time, darlings!

(private joke here, people-I won't explain, because if I do, this chapter will become even longer than it is already).