One heart's darkness

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue.

Erik: Are you okay? You look a little whiter than usual. (quote from "Matrix")

Me: I'm sick. It sucks, big time!

Erik: Aww... you need anything?

Me: Hmm... you could make me some tea... and sing some more!

Erik: Ok! (goes to the kitchen, humming Music of the Night)

THANKS to my reviewers, keep on reviewing, you make my day (although I'm really sick!)

I think I have been misunderstood when I said that I was surprised at the way this fic is turning. I have it planned out, people. Uh-huh! I have outlined every chapter (there will be 20, in total) and I know how this story is going to end! All that's twisting without my help is the way of getting to the point in each chapter. I was going to have Christine and Madeleine be snapping at each other, but I didn't plan on that much open hostility. Well, anyway, no plot bunnies are needed, nightbug08, I'm fine, thanks anyway. :)

Also, I have been told -quite a few times now, so there's no need to say it one more time :) - that this fic is very rushed in the beginning. YES! You are right, totally, and I'm sorry, but I just had no plans for her childhood, yet I didn't want to throw everyone into the situation: Well, here she is, 18 years old, imagine how she got there by yourselves, will ya?
But ok, I see it was still much much much too rushed. I'm not the biggest fan of flash-backs, mainly because I somehow don't use them correctly. So, what I will do is, I'll write this story, just as I planned, and then I'll write a prequel, for those of you who want to know more about why Madeleine turned into the girl she is in this story. Sound ok? Let me know!

And now, have fun with...

Chapter Seven

The opera had to suffer under Madeleine's anger during the next few weeks. Props disappeared, the corps de ballet had many more stories to tell about disembodied voices and the stagehands refused to climb up onto the catwalks alone.

Richard and Moncharmin were waiting anxiously for another black-bordered note that would tell them how they had disappointed the Ghost, but none came.

Suzette Des Cars was now always picked up by her brother Jean after rehearsal, as she was too scared to leave the opera by herself.

The leading soprano had burst into tears numerous times during rehearsal, for some female voice that came from nowhere and everywhere at once, always interrupted her, singing her part in a much more beautiful variation, but always in a mocking tone.

Christine was not to be kept away, however. Indeed, she even came daily, to talk to the ballet mistress Meg Giry or visit some other old friends that were still working there.

Erik watched his daughter's behaviour with worry, but he didn't interfere until he received a note from Meg Giry in which she informed him that the managers were so concerned about the continued disturbances that they were thinking about cancelling that night's performance.

As he sat in the comfortably dark interior of Box Five, tapping the armrest of the red velvet chair with one long finger and absentmindedly crumpling the note in his other hand, he decided that something had to be done about it. He decided to speak to his daughter at the first opportunity, which presented itself later that day, shortly after he had successfully finished an aria for what might become his second opera.

Madeleine had just returned to the underground house and gone straight to her room.

Erik went after her. The door was closed and it took her a little longer than usual to answer to his knock.

He entered to find her sitting on the bed and braiding her hair.

"We need to talk," he announced seriously and sat down in an armchair in front of her. "I have been aware of your behaviour lately and I want to know what is possessing you to act that way! I know I have probably done much worse, but that was during a time in my life… in a situation I don't wish on anybody."

Madeleine's hands fell from her hair. Her eyes were filling with tears.

"Don't be angry with me, papa, please! You are the only one I have! If I lost you… I'd be all alone."

Erik's voice was calm as he replied, "So that is why. You're afraid Christine would steal me and an d so you are trying to scare her away?"

Madeleine's tears and the fact that she could not meet his eyes were answer enough. Erik stood. His expression was stern and the gaze from his sunken eyes held not pity for the crying girl. He knew the insane fear she felt very well, and coddling her would only make it worse. Severity was the only thing that would help.

"You will stay in this room, Madeleine, and think about what you have done."

He left and closed the door behind him, ignoring the growing sobs that marked his departure.

Back at the Chagny mansion, life had settled into a routine, albeit an uncomfortable one. Christine no longer shared a room with Raoul, she had moved into one of the guest rooms.

They rarely spoke, mostly it was Julie who attempted to hold a conversation at the table.

The past day had been particularly bad. In the morning, Christine had found a red rose on the doorstep. The delicate flower, obviously a gift from Erik, had made her smile in a way none of Raoul's opulent presents ever had.

Dusk found the Vicomte in the library. There he sat in front of the fireplace, staring into the dancing flames and looking desperately for answers to the many questions that plagued his mind.

The door to the salon was open. He could see Christine coming down the sweeping staircase and sighed.

She noticed him and came into the library.

Her smile was soft but sad and his own mirrored hers. He tried to memorize her face. The warm, cinnamon eyes, the sweet oval face with the cute nose and the graceful mouth, as red as a rose in bloom, the mass of unruly curls the colour of dark chocolate that poured down her back. Her figure was slender, yet soft. She looked younger than her thirty-eight years and not like the mother of two almost-grown daughters.

"You, ah…," he cleared his throat, "you should know that I asked our lawyer to begin setting up the divorce papers!"

She nodded calmly.

"Thank you. That can't have been easy. I hope you know that I'm sorry to be hurting you, Raoul."

He took her small hand in his.

"Don't be. As long as I know you're happy, I will be."

She nodded again, extracted her hand from his grasp and sat down in a leather wing chair.

"Anyway," Raoul smiled, "the public would be disappointed if they didn't get a nice little scandal from our family now and again."

He picked up his cognac snifter and took a sip.

Christine smoothed a few folds in her plum coloured velvet dress.

"Have you… uh, talked to Julie?" he asked uncertainly. She nodded.

"She wants to stay with you. And I am fine with that, as long as I see her still," Christine reassured her husband. "She has always been your daughter much more than mine. I have often lamented that, but maybe it was to prepare me for this. It certainly makes it… not as hard to accept the fact that I will not always be around her."

Raoul felt the muscles in his jaw twitch as he fought back a sudden rush of tears. He succeeded, and asked, "So, your decision is final then. I never knew I was doing you so much wrong, you have to believe me. When I took you away from him, I thought that it was for your own good. I thought you loved me."

She placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I do love you. Of course I do, I just… I'm not in love with you. I'm in love with Erik, I have always been and I think you have always known!"

He nodded, but he didn't answer, determined not to let the possible tremor in his voice give away how close he was to tears. So far, he had seen everyone cry, his wife and daughter numerous times, the mysterious Madeleine and even Erik, but he hadn't let himself go so far.

Whatever tears he might shed, they would be selfish, for his loss only, and he didn't want to be anymore selfish than he had already been in keeping Christine by his side and away from her true love for so long.

His wife patted his shoulder one last time before she stood up and said,

"I will always be your Little Lotte."

She left and closed the door behind her.
That sound broke his resolve. Tears spilled out of his eyes and down his cheeks, he buried his face in his hands and sobs shook his shoulders.

Christine heard him from outside the library, but she did not go back in.

She wouldn't have stayed with Erik out of pity, so she wouldn't remain with Raoul for that reason, either.

Her heart felt lighter somehow, having made that decision.

Fate, it seemed, had given her a second chance at happiness.

As for Madeleine…

Christine still hadn't got used to the fact that she had another daughter, but she was aware of how dangerous Madeleine could be if she was anything like Erik had been those years ago.

She took her warning very seriously, having witnessed the disturbances at the opera herself.

Something had to be done. With an idea forming in her head, she went back to her room, sat down at her desk and started to write a letter.

"Dear Erik…," how good it felt to write those words. She smiled.

The note was finished quickly. She would have Meg deliver it in the morning.

A/N: Alright, chapter seven is done. It's painfully short, I know, but I don't have that much energy today. Keep reviewing, and you'll get a Phantom cookie! Sound like a deal? I have drawn some pictures, of Madeleine, Christine, Erik and Julie. If you're interested, I can scan them and send them to you, if you give me your e-mail address.

By the way, ILuvSnuffles805, be careful. Be very careful! Erik is SO TOTALLY MINE!(Gerry, too) :) (But if you ask nicely, I might let you borrow them now and again) lol

P.F.A.