In Waking

Christine drifted to consciousness slowly, awaking from a deep dreamless sleep. She was only vaguely aware of a chill spreading over her flesh, and she shivered. The memories of the previous night flooded her mind and a soft smile curved her lips. Her eyes slowly drifted open as she reached for Erik, but her hand encountered only emptiness. Her heart suddenly tripped and her eyes sharpened into focus at the realization that she was alone in the bed.

No, not a bed…the settee in her dressing room!

She sat up quickly, her eyes frantically roaming the empty room.

Oh, God…oh, God…another dream…?

A wounded cry of despair escaped her lips.

It had been so beautifully real.

As she dropped her feet onto the floor, she felt an unfamiliar ache in a most intimate place, and she became suddenly aware that she wore only a robe. Her breath caught as her body remembered…last night had not been a dream. Her eyes searched the room again to find her clothes neatly folded and placed upon a chair. Then she saw it…on the dresser by the mirror. A single, perfect red rose tied in a black ribbon…and a note with her name scrawled in elegant red ink.

Time stopped. No breath would pass her lips. No beat would move her shattered heart. For she knew even before she stood and reached for the parchment with a trembling hand, what it would say.

Erik was gone.

xXx

Erik collapsed against a cold, stone wall, deep into the tunnels. His body shook with pain and rage. Pain at having once again been forced to sacrifice what he wanted most in the world. Rage at himself for the crime he had committed against his angel.

I have ruined her.

What madness brought her back to this place?

The same madness you are afflicted with, Erik.

Her words of love had been such happy daggers to his cold heart. Even after all of the evil he had done in her name, the wrongs he had committed against her, her soul had drawn her back to him. He should not have answered her calls, but as he'd watched her from the shadows in helpless fascination, he had been wholly unable to ignore the pain in her voice...the tears she wept...for him. How could he have been expected to resist her?

But Christine had not asked him to resist, indeed, she had tempted him beyond reason. Erik had been powerless against the warmth of her lips, her body, and her love. Too long had he imagined possessing her to walk away from her passionate offering, and his Christine had not bid him to stop.

She had allowed him to lay her bare; to gaze upon every flawless inch of her exposed flesh...to touch her. And she had welcomed his touch...welcomed him. His mad dreams of love had become real and they two had become one.

My innocent angel is innocent no more.

Erik trembled now at the memory, such a night as he'd never known before, and would never know again. They'd made love and he'd held her as she had fallen into a sated sleep. Only then had reality intruded upon his perfect dream. He had remembered who and what he was…and all that he had done.

Murderer…phantom…fiend.

He had truly known what a monster he was to have taken his angel in such a way...when he knew they could not have a future. He could give Christine nothing but the darkness that permeated his own existence. To keep her with him would condemn her to a life of hiding in shadows, and he knew that it would not be long before the darkness would surely contaminate her. He could not bear to see her slowly lose the light that he so loved.

Damn her!

She had possessed him...captivated him and obsessed him. Erik could never trust himself to be near her for fear of what he might do…what he had already done. He had killed in her name. Christine could never be happy living a life of fear and uncertainty, always glancing over shoulders and peering behind corners, waiting to be discovered. And he would be waiting, as well…waiting for her precious Vicomte to come and take her away again. Waiting for her to wake up and look at him again in horror…run from him in fear...betray him once again. His jealousy and anger would destroy them both.

So Erik had torn himself away from her arms, gathered her clothes together and gone searching the remains of his home for a way to ensure that he could return Christine above without a struggle. The potion had been quite minimal…a few herbs spread over her lips to keep her in a deep sleep. Taking her back had been simple, really, but letting her go…writing the words to sever their ties…the words that had ripped away what little was left of his soul…that had been nearly impossible.

Christine would surely hate him for forcing her freedom on her now, but in time she would come to understand. She would return to the boy and he would give her everything that Erik never could. She would be happy again…and this would all be but a dream.

xXx

It was Meg Giry who first made the discovery of Christine's absence from the Marseille Boarding House. She sought out her friend at an early hour, thinking certainly she must be awake. Her soft knock had gone unanswered, and Meg reached down to try the doorknob. She opened it carefully, feeling a strange dread building within her, and saw an empty chamber and Christine's bag sitting atop the untouched bed. Fear assaulted her, and she raced to alert her mother. She knocked hastily upon her mother's door, even as she turned the knob.

"Maman!"

Madame Giry was still pinning her hair when her daughter rushed in on her. "Meg, child, whatever is the matter?"

"It is Christine, Maman! She is not in her room…he has taken her again, I know it."

Antoinette shook her head in vehement denial, but her eyes clearly reflected uncertainty. "Calm down, child. He would not have done such a thing. He…is a broken creature now."

Meg's eyes widened. "You have seen him again!"

Ever since she had been a young child growing up in the Opera House, Meg had known her mother had more to do with the Opera Ghost than she would ever admit to. Yet all of Meg's curious questions had been met with stony resistance and the reprimand that they must not speak of him. Only after the fire had Madame Giry broken down and confessed to her daughter some of the part she had played in the tragedy.

Meg had felt a surge of annoyance at having been kept in the dark for so long, but she understood that all her mother's actions had been done in a strange mix of concern and fear…for the Phantom…for Christine. Now another tingle of anger spread through her at the realization that her mother had secretly seen him again after that horrible night…and not warned Christine of the danger she was in.

Guilt turned her mother's gaze away a moment. "I have seen him only once." Antoinette leveled her gaze back on her daughter. "I…do not believe Christine is in any danger from him."

Meg's eyes flashed. "But she is gone, Maman! And I do not think she slept here last night. If the Phantom hasn't taken her again, then where is she?"

Her mother shot a stern look to her. "Hush, child! Keep your voice down." Then she sighed, speaking more to herself than to Meg. "She is just foolish enough to have sought him out on her own."

Meg started, her mind denying the possibility, even as her heart told her it was likely true. "No! How could she have?"

Antoinette shook her head slightly. "Perhaps we are worried for nothing, Meg. Christine may only be out walking at an early hour. We must not panic until we can be certain."

"But how...?" Just then, there was a knock at Madame Giry's door, startling both women. Meg gasped, her eyes growing suddenly hopeful. "Christine?"

Antoinette moved cautiously to the door, opening to reveal Madame Marseille. "Madame Giry, there is a gentleman here to call on Mademoiselle Daae. Might she be visiting with you?"

"She is…gone for a morning walk. Pray, tell me what gentleman is calling." Though Antoinette knew with a sinking feeling of despair what the answer would be.

Madame Marseille grinned rather proudly. "Monsieur le Vicomte de Chagny."

Meg gasped from behind her mother, and Antoinette quickly thanked Madame Marseille and told her she would be down shortly to speak with the Vicomte.

"My God, Maman! We must tell him."

"No! He and Erik would surely kill one another this time."

Meg's blue eyes clouded in confusion. "Erik?" Then the light of understanding dawned. "Maman, who is it you are most trying to protect in this?"

Antoinette gave her daughter a harsh look. "At this moment, child, I seek to protect Christine. We must not alert le Vicomte to the situation until it is absolutely necessary. I will look for Christine myself."

"And if you…cannot find her?"

"Then God help us all."

xXx

Christine had been crying for hours, and now it felt as if she had no tears left at all. Erik had left her. He had left Her! How wonderfully ironic, after all the months she had spent running away from him, that when she finally returned he would cast her out. The note he had written her was crumpled in her fist. It spoke of impossibility…spoke of his sorrow, his wish for her happiness, and his love.

His love, suddenly so selfless!

He had left her so that she might be free from the darkness he would drag her into if he tried to keep her with him, as if she was not already drowning in darkness.

She had raged at him, screamed her precious voice raw for him to come back. Tugged in vain at the clasp behind the mirror...locked, or jammed, she knew not which, only that Erik had somehow barred her return. She had nearly thrown a vase through the damned contraption, stopped only by the agonizing realization that he still would not come.

He no longer wants you, Christine.

And why should he now, when she had given him all that he'd craved in one foolish night of passion. A beautiful dream, he had written. A nightmare for her now…to have known such overwhelming splendor and then be deprived of it.

Oh, God, what have I done?

She dressed in a daze, leaving only her corset abandoned on the chair. She stumbled slowly through the Paris streets, certain that anyone who might look upon her would see her shame. For a few blissful hours, Christine had forgotten the outside world and all of the reasons why she and Erik could never be together. Every word he had written had been truth, and now another truth was forced back upon her. For as she entered the foyer, she was met with strong arms and concerned blue eyes of the man she had just betrayed.

A/N: Thanks for reading.