A/N: sorry for the delay, but here it is. this was originally planned to be two chapters but since i made you wait so long i figured i might as well make it one. my apologies to the PFN'ers that hoped i would get this posted an hour ago. i'm really sorry, i know not everyones a night owl like myself. thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews, i can believe how many my last chapter got! i love you all and don't mind at all to get critical reviews. now i really like melodrama, i know it's not everybodys thing but i love the stuff so this chapter is by all means a testament to that, just a little warning.
The next few days passed by in a daze. Christine kept to her room as much as possible and only left to fetch a book or sit by the fire to warm her dead blood. On occasion that other occupant of this stone burrow would cross her path, giving her only so much as a hateful glance to her direction before ignoring her presence all together; Christine was only too happy to return that glare of distain before carrying on with her business.
Yes, she thought to herself with bitter contempt, she hated him.
She sat in front of the hot flames and listened as he slowing passed by behind her. She would not even meet those condemning eyes if she could avoid it.
She hated him for being there, a reminder of her past. She hated him for letting her stay when she had nowhere else to go; she hated him for making her stay. She hated him for his patience while she refused to give him her truth, for his belief that she would eventually confide in him. For his cold indifference that was so obviously a lie that neither was inclined to call on the other. For his song, his self-portrait, which so chillingly called to her, warming her completely.
Christine watched the back of his cloak as he entered the music room.
She hated him for making her feel safe when she knew it was only a matter of time. She hated him for making her forget the world that existed out side these walls and giving her some semblance of peace.
Music began to drift in from the other room, slowly sweeping around her cold flesh, piercing every pore with its rhythmic intoxication.
She hated him for still, and forever being, her Angel of Music. For being the only source of light in her life when it seemed she would only drown in anonymity. She hated him for taking her innocence and manipulating her so completely, for knowing her so well, for knowing exactly what she needed and then becoming that. She hated him for saving her.
Christine slowly stood and trailed vacantly to the door of the music room, watching in silence as the man lost himself to his art.
She hated him for always being there, always lingering in the back of her mind with his promise.
She could not stay here watching him play. Besides, it was time to feed.
"I have been reported to and there is no news of Christine within the city," said Aiden lazily as he entered Catherine's study.
The woman did not look up from her chair in front of the fire. Instead she continued to gaze intently into the glowing flames. "I am not surprise. It is still early and she is a clever girl, if somewhat misguided."
"Do you really believe that? It has been days and yet nothing; perhaps you went about things the wrong way?"
Catherine raised an eyebrow. "No, I don't think I did. The girl is merely confused and needs time. She will come around. They always do."
Tired of being ignored, Aiden stalked around to stand by the mantel, forcing himself into Catherine's view. "You should not have killed the Vicomte. She will not forgive so easily for that, it was a reckless move."
She merely gave him a bored glance before returning her stare to the flames. "Reckless? Oh no, I don't think so. It was perfectly logical. He was in the way, in the long run, his life will hold no meaning. She is young, that is all."
Aiden chuckled; only Catherine could come up with such logic. One would think she had never lived as a mortal, thought as a mortal. But then that was a long time ago, and this only further affirmed his suspicions that the woman needed Christine more than she was willing to let on. Of course her foolishness had probably seen to the end of that chance.
"Long run? Where is your heart Catherine? Christine will not forget her husband so easily, and will most likely forever hold it against you. How can you possibly believe she will forgive you?"
"Christine is a killer," the woman snapped back, annoyance clearly flowing through her voice. "As am I. As are you. To hold such a thing against me is senseless. The girl kills to survive. Does she believe that those whose life she takes do not also have loved ones? Friends, family, children, those who depend upon them for support? How is her husband's life any different from those whom she hunts? She would be a hypocrite to hold such a thing against me."
"Yes, she hunts to live. But what was your purpose in killing the boy? It was not to survive. You did it out of jealousy, pure and simple." Catherine glared at him. "Why should she forgive that? You gained nothing from it but the satisfaction that the one thing holding her to a mortal life was gone."
"Yes, I suppose I should have fed on him, is that it?" she replied while rising from her seat. "That way I could insure I had every right to take his life? I'm sorry but when he was in my arms, the thoughts that came to me were not, drink from him for then Christine could forgive you.
"It is a pointless and redundant argument. She is a killer and so am I. The girl will need to face this fact, else go insane with guilt. She is not that stupid and she'll need us for help when she does realizes she is not so much better than the rest of us. Survival is what we do; it is how we are forced to live. No longer can we compare ourselves to humanity or bend to its laws and hypocritical morals. We are simply no longer a part of that."
He caught her eye for a moment but she simply turned back to the fire. "If your faith is so strong then I suppose there is nothing more I can say."
Laura stumbled once more along the cold stone floor. The darkness was near blinding while the cold caused her to shiver uncontrollably. She could hear no noise as she made her way around another corridor, which was seemingly identical to the one she just passed.
Why did she have to wander down so far, just to prove her bravery to the other girls, she thought irritably. Well she had done her task, but also managed to get completely lost in the process! It seemed her only hope was for one of them to have enough courage to go looking for her when she didn't return, but it would appear that that would be hoping for too much. The other girls were nothing but senseless children, they would never admit that they had managed to get one of there fellow dancers lost in the opera house's cellars and then did nothing. No she would just have to find the way out herself.
She felt as though a draft swept past, causing her hair to stand on end and heightening her senses. Fear was a curious thing, she thought darkly to herself. It could bring your senses to their full potential and in the process, cause your nerves to near a state of collapse as every little change in atmosphere made your heart skip a beat!
"Are you lost, child?"
Laura felt as though she had jumped a foot in the air when she heard that voice, but let out a shuddering breath of relief as she turned to see a petite young woman standing by her. The girl frowned inwardly at the thought of being called a child by a woman only a few years older than herself but she was not about to complain at the sight of another human being.
"Yes. I don't know what happened. I knew where I was but then must have taken a wrong turn, and so many of these stairs look the same… I'm sorry. I'm rambling, but I'm just so relieved to see someone. Please tell me you know how to get out of here." The girl spoke rapidly, barely noticing the thin smile curling on her companion's lips, which was not at all echoed by her cold stony eyes, eyes that never wavered for an instant from the girls clear blue ones.
Christine approached the girl with slow graceful steps.
"Shh," she breathed as she brought a single, slim finger up to rest upon the panicked girl's trembling lips. "It's all right. I can help you. Come with me."
Laura felt another shiver run through her form while Christine lightly took the girl's hand in her own with a firm yet soft grasp.
"It is not safe," Christine began, giving only the smallest of glances back to her. "To be wandering about the basements. Especially alone."
"I know. I'm sorry. I really hadn't intended to go down so far." Laura didn't know what was compelling her to explain herself to this odd stranger, but Christine's very presence made her feel small, young even, like she wanted nothing more than this woman's approval.
She continued to speak in a humble yet hurried manner, explaining about her friends and why they had sent her down there and how they were probably too scared to go looking for her themselves. Vaguely as she spoke, did her mind register that they were going further into the cellars depths, not the other way around. The cold became ever more unbearable while the dark consumed her completely to the point that she was sure this woman could not see her way.
"I… I don't wish to sound rude but… do you know where we are going? I'm not sure this is the right way." Though she could not tell, she felt rather than saw the woman smiling at her.
"Don't worry, we're almost there."
"Almost where, exactly?" Christine's grip tightened ever so slightly, but the girl did not have the intention of pulling back. In fact she welcomed that protective hand, her one source of comfort in this deep labyrinth.
"Trust me," Christine said. And she did.
A few minutes later Laura came stumbling to a halt at Christine's side. Her breathing quickened and sweat began to form on her brow as Christine let her hand slip, leaving the girl alone in the thick blanket of darkness with not even the slightest sound to ground her.
"Hello? Where are you? Are you still there? Hello!" Her voice rose in panic with every second of unanswered silence. Only once she thought she would scream in desperation, she felt the soothing sensation of Christine's hand upon her cheek.
"It's alright child. Everything will be fine."
The woman's hot breath against her ear was the last thing Laura felt before the sharp piercing pain in her neck, followed closely by blinding pleasure and then, darkness.
Erik felt, rather then heard Christine enter the room and sit down on the couch against the far wall. He ignored her, as he did all the other times when she would hover by the door to listen to him play, not wishing to draw attention to herself.
"Erik. May I ask you something?" came her voice unexpectedly.
"I daresay you can," he replied emotionlessly, his concentration still seemingly solely for his music.
"What is it like to kill somebody?"
There was a break in his piece and the sudden silence they were both plunged into echoed around them. "Why do you ask me such a thing?" he asked roughly without facing her.
"Morbid curiosity?" she replied with an empty voice.
"Some curiosities are best left unsated."
"Perhaps." Christine paused, allowing her self to gather the courage needed to push on. She needed to say this, to know this, it seemed her vary sanity depended upon it. "Do you ever hear them when you think you're alone? See them when you close your eyes?"
"Christine." Usually the sound of her name on his lips could fill her body with euphoria but this time only filled her with guilt. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath she continued.
"Do they ever haunt you with their final cries for mercy? Do you still remember that look in their eyes when they realize their final thread of hope is gone, when you see that dawning moment of fear, when they know that they are about to die and that you are death's messenger?" She breathed out before asking quietly, "Do you enjoy it?"
Erik's hands clenched instinctively, his entire body had gone rigid. "Stop."
But Christine did not waver; instead her voice only grew in strength and volume. "Do you enjoy that feeling of power, knowing that this individual, whose life is meaningless to you, is now at your complete mercy; that you have total control, total power? Does it satisfy you, knowing that you are forever set apart from these other mortals, that you have never been and will never be an equal in their eyes? Do you even remember all the faces, names, locations of these acts? The most important thing to ever occur to these people and you the person to bring it about, does it mean anything to you? Should it?"
"Christine, please stop this." What was she thinking? "Perhaps you need one of your walks?" But he knew that wasn't it. Still he did not face her, could not face her, not with these words of accusation and truth spilling from her beautiful mouth.
"I just had one of my walks," she replied stiffly.
"Well these are not questions I care to answer, nor are they questions that you should be asking."
Christine's eyes narrowed. "Have you ever wanted to kill me?"
Erik swept around on the bench to face her, shock clearly showing through his eyes.
"Has there ever been a moment where your barely controlled passion nearly snapped and the vision of me helpless beneath your powerful grip clouded your eyes? The thought that you could rid yourself of this baneful child, who torments you so thoroughly, could very easily be removed from existence?"
"Stop this madness Christine. Why are you doing this?" He was breathing deeply, eyes ever poised on Christine's, while she stared back, her face a hard mask and expressionless.
"I've wanted to kill you, you know. If I could, I'm not sure I wouldn't have done it. You had Raoul's life in the palm of your hand, how can I forgive you for that?" Christine took a deep breath and looked away. "But I have… If I couldn't, then how could I forgive myself?"
"What are you saying?" Erik stood from the bench and came around to the girl's side, hovering just above her. "Christine, leave these thoughts. Angels shouldn't think such things."
"Not all Angels reside in heaven and I am forever damned. There is nothing but fire in my future Erik, I daresay that that is a truth for the both of us." Her voice came as a soft whisper as she sat with her head stooped. Erik could just see the stream of tears slowly tracing down the girls face when he understood.
"No," he whispered in disbelief, an idea slowly forming in the back of his mind.
Christine dared a glance in his direction before returning her focus to her hands.
"No, Christine. Tell me no. They did not, could not make you." But Christine remained silent. She could not bear to look at him, wouldn't meet those condemning eyes that always saw her as the one white light in his world of darkness.
It was only when she felt the movement of the cushion beside her that she let her tears fall freely. She then her him take a deep breath, as though struggling to find his words.
He knew what he had to say, if his suspicions were correct. What it was she needed to hear, that she could only hear from him. "It does get better, with time. They never do leave you, not really, but they do fade, in a way."
Christine looked up at him, barely comprehending what it was she was hearing.
"The first time you never forget and there are some, here and there, that will never leave you, never let you leave them... In time they fade but never leave, and you don't want them to leave. It would be far too easy if they did.
"And yes, I do enjoy it. Not always, but there are times when I do, and I do not regret it either. And yes, I have thought about killing you. Only small moments, flashes of insanity where it just made perfect sense, but nothing more than a thought, a mild consideration, you have no idea what you do to me Christine… Oh Christine." His voice died on his lips.
Erik closed his eyes, waiting for the words of condemnation to fall, waiting for her to tell him that he assumed wrong and that he was truly the monster she always saw him as. But instead he felt hands slowly slink over his neck and her face bury tightly to his shoulder while violent sobs raked through the girl's entire body.
"Oh Christine," he again echoed, tentatively bringing his arms up to protectively encircle her trembling body and savor its warmth. Lightly his hand made its way through her hair, running its long, skeletal fingers through her strands as he held her there, utterly lost. So he just held her.
It seemed like hours had passed when only about a minute slipped away with the two in this state, but finally Christine's rough sobs began to slow, and her shaking subsided. Erik's grip instinctively loosened, thinking once she returned to her senses she would no longer wish to be in such close proximity to such a creature. But as his arms loosened she only ever more tightly held on.
"Don't leave me," came her muffled voice. Her body shifted slightly, only to become closer.
Christine's mind raced. There was so much more she needed to say, so much still that he didn't know or understand and could never know; not and still care for her. No, he doesn't understand and this outburst of emotion on her part will soon be dearly regretted. What was she thinking? Essentially telling him that yes, she too was a killer. What was the point? Was she looking for compassion or just needed someone that understoodto tell her it would be all right?
He must hate her, she thought ruefully. How could he not? She was nothing of the girl he once knew. She had the blood on her hand from her own murder. A suicide would have been better! She had killed his Christine and now he was holding a ghost.
Christine's thoughts were interrupted by the light sensation of Erik's lips brushing carefully against her forehead and then hearing a loud sigh as his arms pulled away. Christine looked up at him curiously, almost disbelieving what she had just felt.
"I'm sorry Christine. I shouldn't have. I didn't mean…"
Never before had she seen such a pair of sad, adoring eyes, looking anywhere but into her own. Without a thought as to why, Christine raised her head and brought her lips to his, kissing him slowly while her body shook in trepidation.
Unable to think, unable to breathe, Erik sat motionless as those soft, beautiful, crimson lips dared to touch his own twisted ones. What god in heaven would allow such a thing to occur? How is such a thing even possible? Then something in his mind snapped, Christine was kissing him!
With that moment of realization, Erik brought his arms back around her, only lightly touching her skin, and kissed her back, obviously unsure of himself. Did God really allow you to kiss an angel twice in one lifetime?
But then reality came crashing back into Christine's focus and memory wrought its own vengeance. With a cry, the girl pulled away and flung herself from the couch. "Oh God, Erik I'm sorry."
Tears again traced her cheeks while her body went numb with fear and confusion. "I didn't mean… I shouldn't have… Oh God, Raoul. I can't do this. I'm sorry."
Unable to bare his sight any longer, watching as every ill chosen word struck him like a dagger, Christine ran from the room and didn't stop till she was curling against the far wall of her bed.
Please R&R!
10000 vampire points to anyone who can guess where i got Laura's name.
spoiler: Erik finds out, next chapter