Author's notes: Only a few more chapters to go… the long-awaited Don Juan is here! And wish me luck, people... I might be singing Christine this Tuesday, if my vocal coach decides I'm ready for it – she said I'd be doing PotO soon, if I keep up. I'm singing With One Look from Sunset Boulevard, but I might get a new song to learn. And, less pleasant, I have major exams on Wednesday and Thursday...

EriksIngenue – (cannot answer that question) I liked the musical version of this scene far better, too. Yes, I liked the moment of hesitation as well!

All That Remains – indeed!

Morleigh– thank you, read on!

Enrinye– heh, I know you dislike WYWSHA. I didn't have time for it anyway, not in this story. Yes, PonR it is!

Maidenhair - 'Erik lives in teh underland with giant bats and stays behind the cursed grill of Jupiter'? (fit of laughter)

Twinkle22 – thank you, here's more!

X X X

Chapter 14 – Flesh and blood

X X X X

My thoughts remained uneasy as I prepared myself for the beginning of the next rehearsal. I don't want to do this, I don't! I am too afraid… and even Raoul´s words of comfort cannot grant me peace. I know better than he the dangers this plan involves. He can't imagine the wrath I will face if he captures me again.

The anger and anguish in his eyes when I snatched the mask still haunts me… as do his words of love that echo in my mind when I am awake, they invade my dreams. In sleep he sings to me… in dreams he comes… and I am defenseless against the power of his voice, the voice that makes me forget the horror of his face, the fear I feel whenever I think I sense his burning eyes on me.

Despite my fear, I know that I must go on. Raoul is right… I must perform in Don Juan, even though I dread the premiere. Other than dreading him, I dread the songs. I have never seen anything more complicated in my life. If I weren't terrified, I would be awed, probably. One does not compose such a work overnight. It must have taken months, years, perhaps.

Rehearsals are routine now. I know that he won't show himself, but I can feel those eyes that can threaten and adore at the same time, that seduce by fear, watching, unseen, somewhere close. Piangi might not be the image of Don Juan, but I dare not even repeat the blasphemous thoughts that enter my mind when I search for an answer to the question who would be ideal for the part.

I sing the songs dispassionately, as Monsieur Reyer constantly reminds me and tells me that I have to feel the role. Yet I cannot… the feeling of dread refuses to vanish… as does the echo of the cursed angel's voice singing in my head the lines that could have been composed by Lucifer himself, for all their meaning.

You have come here…

X X X

Letting Christine out of my sight during these days would be foolish, thus I come to every rehearsal. Painful as it is to hear her perfect voice afraid, we must continue. Nowadays, however, she seems to have accepted the fact that she has to perform in order for the plan to succeed.

I dare not admit to myself that we are using her as bait. I would never put Christine in danger, never. But out future and perhaps our lives depend on it. If we manage to end this now, it will be over. If not… as I told her, the Phantom would haunt us until the end of time.

The music, for all its beauty, is distinctively packed with emotions, not least of all, passion and anger. I believe I can guess how that music came to be, in the aftermath of Christine's departure from the Opera Populaire months ago. The lyrics were nothing short of vulgar to the civilized viewer. But then again, what about Don Juan wasn't vulgar? In that sense, the opera was indeed perfect.

Time and time again I listened to Christine singing, but I was always on the lookout for any sign of our clever hidden friend. Yet he didn't show himself once, notes came scarcely and then not at all, which could only mean one – he was satisfied with the way things were going.

The night of the performance, the managers and I personally sat in opposing boxes, those closest to the stage. The house was going to be full – they had advertised Don Juan Triumphant as the Phantom's opera, and it worked. All of the crème de la crème of Paris wanted to see it; they wanted to know more of the legendary Opera Ghost, of whom all who had at least once visited the theater knew.

There was no time to even give Christine words of comfort before the show started. The sets were lavishly decorated with props resembling fire, flames, and there was a whole ring of fire in the middle of the stage. A bridge above the stage with two spiral staircases was needed for the biggest aria of the whole production… in short, it cost a lot, but it was all worth it.

Everyone seemed tense before the show began. The fools. They probably all feared that the Phantom would show up. The only one that interested him enough to give a personal appearance was Christine, the managers and I knew that well enough. But the police arrived and took position. Box 5 was secured, in case the Phantom would want to show up there.

André nodded to Reyer once the audience fell silent, and the orchestra began playing the first tones of the overture. I nodded to the managers and sat down, slightly uneasy. Gripping my seat, I attempted to relax. It would soon be over.

X X X

A dream come true, that could be a way of describing tonight.

At last, Don Juan would be performed. Finished, perfected, it would now be presented to the world, sung by only the most accomplished of singers, my own student. I endured the rehearsals, watched the giant Italian blob that was Piangi butcher up the part that was never meant to be his, watched Carlotta try to make herself prominent among the chorus and make her role grander than it was.

The toad, I could endure. When she wasn't singing the main role and was only in the chorus, she was passable. However, if there was an utter opposite of Don Juan in the world, it was the fat pig that had been cast. Only because there were no other opinions, however. For now.

I didn't want to interrupt the premiere like this, but there was no other way. Of course, their laughable plan of my capture had been exposed long ago. I had had time to prepare my escape easily. And Christine, who they have so recklessly almost thrown into my arms, will at last be mine. The plan was full proof.

Twirling the stolen engagement ring a bit, I pocketed it. I was already dressed in costume. I made my own version of it, precise to the very last detail. I really hated to cut the fun short… but really, enough was enough. I had no interest in continuing this running around in circles.

The games we've played till now were at an end.

The finishing touches to my visage were added – the black mask was put in place as I observed my miniature model of the stage. All the figures were there. Don Juan, Aminta… Aminta caught my eye for a second as I smiled. Then, taking a lit candle, I lit the fire in the middle of the stage.

My opera was ready to begin.

X X X

I stood off-stage, waiting for my cue. Thus far, nothing out of the ordinary had happened. The scenes progressed according to the script, no intervention. Except the initial disgust of the audience, which had turned into shocked awe later on, nothing was unusual.

As Piangi vanished behind the curtain, I took my basket with roses and sang my first two lines in this scene, the biggest scene of the entire opera, where my character, Aminta, was going to be seduced by Don Juan. I only hoped that I would sound better than I did during the rehearsals.

No thoughts within her head but thoughts of joy!
No dreams within her heart but dreams of love!

I sat down and took out one of the roses. It reminded me unwillingly of the roses I found each day in my dressing room, the only difference being that this one lacked the signature black ribbon that identified the one who sent it. I didn't pay much attention to the events behind me – I wasn't required to sing in this part of the song.

I knew what lines would follow… maybe not by heart, but I knew what Don Juan was supposed to be singing, in general. And the lines began, but I almost punctured my fingers with the rose's thorns. The voice singing them was sweeter than honey, gentler than the wings of angels, yet more seductive than the temptation of a sin.

That voice had haunted me for so long, and now, I knew it wasn't a dream. He was here.

You have come here
in pursuit of your deepest urge
in pursuit of that wish
which till now has been silent
silent…

Don Juan, disguised as Passarino, emerged, but his physique was very different from Piangi´s. As was his voice, as I am certain the audience also noticed. I turned my head slowly, like a young gazelle that had sensed that a lion was watching her every move… and I was right. His mask was black, he was dressed to fit his role, but his eyes, his voice couldn't be mistaken.

Slowly, he placed a finger to his lips as he sang, with the most enigmatic and mysterious smile, and my nerves seemed to explode. Yet all the same, I forgot that I was on-stage, forgot that I was being watched by dozens of people… and slowly, became ensnared.

I have brought you,
that our passions may fuse and merge -
in your mind you've already
succumbed to me
dropped all defenses
completely succumbed to me -
now you are here with me
no second thoughts
you've decided
decided . . .

Gracefully twirling the long cape he was wearing out of the way, he approached me, his eyes glittering, as he sang, with the voice of an angel and the seduction of the devil. Don Juan was standing before me, Don Juan in flesh and blood, and I had no will to resist any longer, not as long as he was using weapons I could not defend myself against.

Past the point of no return -
no backward glances:
the games we've played till now are at an end
Past all thought of "if" or "when" -
no use resisting:
abandon thought, and let the dream descend...

Close to me at last, he almost jumped behind me and grabbed me by the waist, another hand sliding gently down my throat. I forgot the entire world. There was nothing else around us, no one there. And if my mind would have been clear, I would have fully comprehended that this song was meant for me, that he had written it to express all the feelings I had awoken within him.

What raging fire shall flood the soul?
What rich desire unlocks its door?
What sweet seduction lies before us ?

I felt his hands slide down my outstretched arm and for a moment, his hands gripped my weakened fingers, as he gazed upon me with an almost hungry look.

Past the point of no return,
the final threshold -
what warm, unspoken secrets will we learn?
Beyond the point of no return

Yet the spell was broken as soon as he let go. I found myself anxiously rearranging my dress, covering my shoulders, which had been exposed moments before. Suddenly, I felt uncomfortable, and my eyes traveled to Raoul in his box for a second as I began to sing.

X X X

All was going perfectly. She was alone, defenseless against my voice, my power over her… even looking at the boy didn't help. I also glanced up to his box, an almost mocking look in my eyes. It was my turn to sing to her of love, Monsieur. Of the love that had grown throughout the years, the love that would last beyond my death, for I swore to myself that even though I would be in Hell and Christine in Heaven, I would always be with her, at least in thought.

You have brought me
to that moment where words run dry
to that moment where speech disappears into silence
silence

Such perfection! She was Aminta… she was born to play the part. And her voice, slightly unsure at the beginning, grew powerful once she realized her own potential. Each time she opened her mouth, she took my breath away in ways she couldn't imagine. And she wasn't frightened any longer! She wasn't trying to escape…

I have come here,
hardly knowing the reason why
In my mind, I've already imagined our bodies entwining
defenseless and silent
now I am here with you
no second thoughts

I've decided
decided . . .

Taking a deep breath, I watched the fire in her eyes reignite itself. We began our ascent up the stairs, not taking a second to blink, watching each other all the time.

Past the point of no return
no going back now
our passion-play has now, at last, begun
Past all thought of right or wrong

one final question:
how long should we two wait, before we're one?

When will the blood begin to race

the sleeping bud burst into bloom?
When will the flames, at last, consume us?

Atop of the stairs, facing each other, there could be no doubts that the answer to the last question would be useless moments later.


Past the point of no return
the final threshold -
the bridge is crossed

so stand and watch it burn
We've passed the point of no return . ..

And, now with Christine in my tight embrace, I knew that there was indeed no turning back, no avoiding the inevitable, no other choice. I had presented all I am to her… now it was time for the final threshold.

Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime

It was the song the boy had sung to her… but I intended to do it justice this time. It was my plea, my desperate plea for her love.


Lead me, save me from my solitude

Only she had ever heard the music I heard. Only she could save me, since only she understood me.

Say you want me with you, here beside you

Christine slowly turned around, and her eyes glittered with tears. Her bottom lip was trembling slightly, her face at loss of what emotion to display first.


Anywhere you go let me go too

I gripped her small hand in my own, slipping the glamorous engagement ring on her finger. Her other hand rested on what was uncovered on my face in a soft caress-like gesture, but she remained silent.

Christine that's all I ask of...

A moment later, all words, all promises, all love… it was worthless. Once more, she had proven herself to be Delilah, Pandora, Eve… and mercilessly, though her eyes showed remorse, she snatched the mask and threw it away.