A/N: Thanks for all the reviews guys.
Disclamer: Erik does not belong to me. However, in the case that anyone would choose to sue me, I assure you, my entire possesions consist of two balls of lint, a toothpick, and a pack of peanut M&M's. Thank you, and enjoy your reading.
The next day she returned, and called Erik with her singing. Again he went to the mirror, but this time he only watched her. He refused to speak, even when she began to cry. Eventually she left, promising to come back the again. The next day she did return and the day after that. Each time he spoke not a word. She continued coming every day, and as each day passed Erik realized it was becoming harder and harder to control his emotions. After about two weeks he stopped going to her, instead he would play his piano, trying to block out her voice. He played, but with no emotion. The music that once filled his soul disappeared the night she left.
Finally one day she stopped coming, or so he thought. In reality she was searching for a way to enter his home. He continued playing every day though, for even though she wasn't singing aloud, he heard her voice in his head. He hoped with all his heart that she would stay away from him. Even though two years had passed since he let her go, the wounds were still fresh. Seeing her again had made them worse than ever. He only found peace in sleep, for she haunted his dreams. Waking up on the other hand was anguish. It was like losing her all over again. Nothing brought comfort to him. He rarely left his house, and knew inside he was dying.
A few weeks later Christine found him like this, lost as if in a trance in his music. Quietly she walked up behind him. "Hello Erik."
He quickly twisted around, unsure of what was happening. His eyes filled with pain and anger. Trying to collect his emotions he stood up, his body ridged. "How did you get here Christine?" He spoke quietly, but forcefully.
Christine smiled; unaware of how close Erik was to his breaking point. "The mirror," she replied, "I've been searching it for a month trying to find a way through. Then yesterday I finally opened it, and went as far as the lake. Today I swam across it."
He glanced at her clothes, and saw that they were indeed wet, and sticking around her legs. He closed his eyes a moment trying to control his ragging emotions. When he spoke his voice was filled with bitterness. "What are you doing here Christine?"
Christine didn't know what to say, she didn't know why she was here. "I miss you," she simply said. As soon as she said it, she knew it was true.
For a second his eyes filled with pain and longing, but he quickly erased it. "Don't play games," he replied dangerously.
She looked at him astonished. Innocently she said, "I'm not. I really do miss you."
He looked into her eyes trying to read her. Then he said quietly, "I think it's best if you leave." He turned around and strode towards his bedroom door.
"Erik wait." She caught up to him and placed a hand on his arm. "Why do you keep running away from me?"
He flinched away from her touch, and when he spoke he didn't bother to hide his pain. "I think, my dear, it is normally you who runs from me." And with that he closed the door and locked it.
Christine stood there for a moment, shocked, then whispered "Good bye." She walked to the lake and stepped into the cool water. Thinking over what Erik had said, she swam to the opposite side of the lake. He was right. It was usually she who ran, but as she said that fate full night, she was no longer afraid of him. He would never consciously hurt her, but now she feared she had hurt him. His music was emotionless, and when she had briefly touched his arm, she felt his bones sticking out. For the first time she wondered if she had made the wrong choice picking Raoul. Yes she loved Raoul, but Erik needed her, more than she ever imagined. He seemed to be drowning in himself, and his pain, yet now she couldn't save him. She was married. She saw clearly now what it meant to be past the point of no return. Stepping out of the lake, she put on the dry cloths she had left there, and walked home.
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Sitting in a chair in his bedroom, Erik wondered what had possessed Christine to come. Did she think she could just come back, and act like nothing had changed between them? Act like he wasn't hurt? He ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated. Couldn't she tell he didn't want to see her? He suffered enough as it was, imagining her, yet trying to forget her.
Even seeing her for a few minutes he could tell that she hadn't changed that much. She was still the child inside that he remembered. The only thing different was that she seemed to have lost all the joy and innocence she used to have. She seemed more serious, and sober, probably due to the maturity that comes with marriage. He sighed wishing for the thousandth time since she left, that she had chosen him. Deep inside though, he hoped she was happy, for that's all he ever wanted. Standing up, he grabbed his cloak, and prepared to take a walk. For once his home felt like a prison.
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Walking back to the Opera House, he wondered why he did it. For a while he had wandered around with out a purpose, yet his feet seemed to know where they were going. Suddenly they stopped in front of a big pale yellow house. Then it hit him. This was Raoul's house. Cautiously he walked around to the back, where he knew their bedroom was. He had come here a few times to spy on Christine right after their marriage, but had stopped, because it was too painful to see them together. Those times had been for him, but this time was for Christine. He had to see if she was happy.
Silently he climbed a tree close enough to their bedroom balcony to see inside, but hidden from their view. By this time it was dark, and while he waited for them to appear he looked at the grounds. He had to admit he was impressed. Behind him was a lavish garden, filled with many different types of flowers. The house wasn't that bad either. Though it wasn't his taste at all.
As he sat in the tree, scent of the flowers floated up to him, making him drowsy. He quickly shook himself awake, when he heard the door in their bedroom opening. They didn't speak much as they went about their nighttime routines, but Erik watched each of them closely. Christine was very quiet and seemed to be lost in her own thoughts. Raoul didn't notice anything wrong with Christine, or if he did he didn't say anything. He looked happy, smiling and gently brushing against her now and then. As he would do this she would smile, but Erik saw that her heart wasn't into it.
Finally Christine sat in front of her vanity and began brushing her hair. In the Opera House she would do this every night, and he would always watch her. Her long, brown curls looked so soft, and so alive. They bounced and swayed, as if they had a mind of their own. When she put the brush down he sighed. He had always wanted to brush her hair, and he wondered if Raoul ever did. Carefully he changed position in the tree to get a better view of their bed. The few times he had spied on her, he had left after she had finished brushing her hair, not wanting to see Christine and Raoul make love. Tonight though he stayed, but turned around so he could not see them. His heart could not bear it.
After about an hour he turned around, and saw that Raoul was a sleep. Christine however, was not. She was gazing out the window, looking at the stars. Again Erik shifted positions, but this time not so carefully. The tree shook, and one of the branches taped the window of the French doors. Christine's head jerked up, and she gently eased her self out of bed. Erik cursed himself and scampered down the tree. He slipped behind it, and into its shadow, just as Christine opened the doors, and stepped out on to the balcony. She suspiciously studied the grounds, and her eyes stopped where Erik was hiding. Shaking herself, for her stupidity of thinking she saw a person there, she walked back into her room and closed the door. As soon as she was gone, he swiftly left her grounds, and started the long walk home. He could tell that she was content with her life, but he still didn't know if she was happy.