To Live Again 13

Eh.. Sorry this took so long… Hey, I'm another year older now, and I've finally pierced my ears. Oh, and some of you might not like this chapter, but be patient; I'm building something important here! And, in any case, we all know Erik has a temper. Does anyone recognize some of the lines?

Days passed before the news of the jailbreak and Rojer's escape reached the papers, and when it reached the Manor, Joelle was not surprised; the man was damnably slippery.

However, the atmosphere around her home changed drastically: Raoul and Christine had begun to tail her, and Erik had began looming beside her every second like an overgrown bat, glaring at anyone he didn't recognize (and a few he did, but didn't trust.) . For awhile Joelle indulged them, but after her father's eighth panic attack and Raoul's third arbitrary lock-down, her patience was well and truly grated.

Walking down to the library, she heard three sets of feet following her. Finally snapping, she turned on her heel. "Alright. Enough! You know, I really do NOT need an escort everywhere I go!"

They stared at her, perfectly innocent looks on their faces, Erik even going so far as to tilt his head inquisitively.

Joelle sighed, "I know that you all mean well, but I do not need constant guarding. I am not afraid of Rojer…not now, in any case. He has a pattern, you see. After every thwarted strike, he goes into hiding for a bit, usually a month or longer. He's not the sort to strike twice in the same week. And in any case, now that he is no longer presumed dead, he's one of the most wanted men in France. He can't simply stroll in and take me as he tried before. And I am a grown woman; as much as I appreciate the sentiment, I need my space now and again."

At Erik's hurt look, she softened, cupping his cheek in her hand, "Darling, I love you, you know that." She kissed his lips lightly, tenderly, and continued, "But I grew up roaming the wild hills and running in the meadows. The forest was as much my home as the manor. For the past few years, necessity forced me into a well-meaning prison where I was attended by at least one person--usually more--and though it was sometimes pleasant, I needed my freedom! Please understand I need to be able to go where I will, visit friends around the manor and in the village, to ride Ula in the fields like I used to, to enjoy the burgeoning spring! I can't simply be cooped up under guard in a cage all day! If I can't live my life, the devil has won, now hasn't he?"

Erik sighed, "Be careful.?"

"Aren't I always, luv?"

A day later, morning dawned bright and lovely at the Etienne Manor. Joelle, dressed in riding clothes, stopped in front of her mare's stall, struggling with her bandaged hands to braid her unruly curls. Finding great difficulty with the encumbrance, she gave a small growl of frustration.

"Allow me." Haral's oddly crisp voice came from behind her. He guided her to a hay bale, where they sat down. He quickly and deftly finished the braid and tied it off, then moved to leave. Joelle caught his hand and he stopped, turning, and met her gaze with shameful ivy eyes. With a sigh, he obediently sank back down on the hay, but looked determinedly at the ground.

"How have you been, Haral? I haven't seen you for so long…" She began softly.

"Ah've seen yeh plenty. An' yehr man, too. Erik, was it?"

She nodded, "I've missed our talks very much, Haral." She admitted.

"'Ave yeh now?" He still didn't look at her.

"Please don't hate me, Haral." She murmured, "I never meant to hurt you."

"Was et really thaht hopeless?" He asked despairingly, "Ah know ah'm poor, but…"

"That was never it!" Joelle interrupted him quickly, "You're a good man, Haral, such a good man, and if I had never met Erik, I'd probably be yours."

He finally looked up at her, sad eyes burning into hers, "D'yeh know 'ow 'ard it is Elly? Ah still love yeh!"

Guilt flared inside her. "Oh Haral!" She hugged him and he rested his cheek on her shoulder. "I'm so sorry, my friend." She whispered.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Erik hurried to the stable; Joelle had mentioned going for a ride this morning and he wanted to steal a kiss before she left. When he reached his destination, he stopped dead.

There was Joelle, with the handsome stableman, Haral.

Their hands were joined.

Shock immobilized him, and he caught only snatches of their conversation:

".. Good man..Haral…I…never…Erik…I…yours." Snatches only, but what could be hiding in those empty spaces?

His heart dropped as Haral responded, "…. 'ard... Ah love yeh.."

"Oh Haral!"

Rage replaced shock and hurt as he saw them embrace, his Joelle whispering something to the other man.

Without a thought, he raced forward to confront his faithless lover and her lamentably handsome paramour.

Regret and guilt warred in Joelle's heart as she tried to soothe her heartbroken friend.

He no longer had that old tempting effect on her; only Erik could melt her of late. She wished she could have asked him for advice before this had happened. He knew of the situation, of course; she could hardly keep something so important from him, though she felt it might be better if she dealt with it herself.

"So this is why you wanted to be alone!" Erik's cold words hit her like a slap in the face and, shocked, Joelle drew herself out of Haral's desperate embrace.

"What? Oh Erik! No! You can't think I…"

"Curse you!" He cried, grabbing her wrist and forcing her closer, so that she could not look away from his livid, half-insane face, "You little lying Delilah! You little viper! How could you do this to me?"

"Erik I would never! I lov—"

Again, he cut her off, not even hearing her. "Damn you! You little demon! Why did I ever trust you? How could I think—even for a moment—that you ever really loved me? CURSE YOU! I should have never believed you! Why did you bother, if everything you said was a lie? WHY?"

Tears burned in her eyes, and his thin fingers dug into the flesh of her wrist. Her hand hurt, too. Joelle whimpered and tried to pull away. His rage was the most terrifying thing she'd ever seen. When did her tender lover turn into a madman? And still he yelled at her! His face began to peel at the corners, and his hand gripped her yet tighter. She gave an involuntary yelp.

"Erik! Please? Erik? you're hurting me!" She gasped, feeling the blood drain from her face.

In spite of his fury, her frightened, trembling little voice cut him off. Stopping dead, Erik stared at Joelle's pale, tearstreaked face, then glanced at the wrist he'd grasped. The bandages on her hand had blood seeping through, deep cuts reopened by the force of his furious grasp. New cuts were on her already scarred wrists from his careless nails and his hand was slick, sticky, covered with blood—Joelle's blood.

Joelle's blood was on his hand!

Horrified, he let go immediately, staring at his hand in shock.

WHAM! A large fist connected with his face.

"Haral! No!" Joelle's voice screamed.

When the world stopped shaking and he opened his eyes, he saw her; little Joelle doing her best to restrain the massive, furious Scotsman.

"Will? She cried, "Willem, help?

Erik felt his face?the mask, sliding off. Frantically, he held it on as her ran to Cesar, mounted, and rode like hell.

"ERIK!" An anguished cry filled his ears, "Don't leave me! I lov—" The voice faded as he got farther away.

Why would she call to him still? Unless? What if he'd been wrong?

Oh god? She'd told him before her regret; hurting her friend, breaking Haral's heart, and her desire to save the friendship!

He'd acted on suspicion, hurt sweet Joelle, his Angel in the heat of fury!

His mask had been slipping off, as well… what if she'd seen?

Not that it mattered.

He could never see her again.

Why did love always turn him into a madman?

At this point, he reflected, it was a good thing he didn't have much of a nose, for surely now it would be broken.

As it was, his face throbbed painfully.

Raoul heard his cousin scream and took off at a dead run to the stable. A man was restraining an identical man who looked furious. Joelle was collapsed on the ground, bleeding from her left hand and wrist and sobbing as though her heart was broken. "Come back, my love…" She whimpered, "Please don't leave me…"

"What the hell happened here?"

That night, beneath the Paris Opera House, Erik scrubbed at his hand continuously. "Damn you! Why won't you come off? Why won't the stain leave me?"

Why did the blood of one woman, who was still alive, stain him so much worse than past murders?

'because she was an innocent.' Said a small annoying voice. 'Her only crime was in her compassionate heart. Ironically, that was what you loved most about her, wasn't it?'

"The irony is not lost on me."

He glared at his reflection.

Hideous, he thought.

Made only more so by the awful bruise.

"Now I know how Raoul felt.?

'Yet again.'

"Go away.?

'Hasn't everyone else already done that?'

"I'd like to reserve Box five for the next two weeks, please." Joelle said.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Asked one of the managers. Andre, she remembered.

"Yes," The other man agreed, "Madmoiselle, nobody has used that box since the…incident."

"You yourself saw the body." Joelle reminded him, "The Opera Ghost is dead."

"Yes, but superstition…"

"Is for fools." She said lightly.

"Very well. Here is your card."

"Mademoiselle," Andre said, "Are you sure you wish to sit there alone? You have been in considerable danger recently, and as we said…"

"I thank you for your concern, gentlemen, but I think it might be an adventure to meet the Opera Ghost. In fact, it is part of my reason for choosing that section."

They looked at her as if she were mad, "Very well… We will send someone to check up on you occasionally, though. Mme. Giry may be able to tell you more of him if you truly wish to know."

"Thank you. You know, I'm surprised you gentlemen stuck around." She remarked, "Many would have left."

"And admit defeat? Never!" Firmin looked outraged at the thought.

She smiled, "And whatever became of Carlotta?"

"She sings very little. Apparently she loved Signor Piangi very much and his death changed her drastically. Most of her parts are silent, and she rarely speaks to anyone. She stays because the Opera is all she knows."

"Perhaps I may speak to her later?"

"Certainly, Lady Etienne. And we are honored that you attend once again, but we must be going."

Alone in Box Five, Joelle sat and looked around, "Please, Erik, come back to me." She whispered.

"I'll always love you. God.. Why don't you trust me?"

Wait for it, the next chapter should be good, and if I can get on the computer (My little brother is hogging it for 'Runscape' whatever that is!) it should be soon!