One heart's darkness

Disclaimer: I own only my OCs. It has been established enough times that I do NOT own Erik, POTO, etc.

Erik: You know, you're getting more and more sarcastic.

Me: Yes, well, I learned from the best.

Erik: See?

Me: Oh well, you're right! By the way, I'm supposed to give you this! (kisses him on the cheek)

Erik: Malori! Not in front of the kids!

THANKS to my reviewers, keep on reviewing, you make my day. And I'm healthy again, yay!

I know I'm taking a little longer to update these day, but more reviews would make me do that faster. Really:) So, you know what to do...

There are a lot of notes/letters in this chapter. It's mail time!

Chapter Eight

Madeleine didn't sleep well that night. Her dreams were unsettling, but she never managed to wake from them. Her mother's face appeared constantly, changing first into Julie's, telling her that she would never be normal, then into Erik's, reminding her that she should learn to be lonely, and finally into her own, amber eyes full of fire, a horrible face that was laughing at her, taunting her. "Curious people, aren't they, Madeleine? They scream when they see us, think they are unfortunate… but we, we have to live with it, don't we? This is OUR face…"

She awoke with a gasp. Her hands were pleasantly cool and she placed them over her sleep-heavy eyes. Sleep wasn't an option anymore, and a glance at the clock told her that it was morning anyway, so she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and got up.

Not bothering to get dressed yet, she simply pulled on her velvet robe again and left her room, tiredly running a hand through her tousled curls.

Her father was in the kitchen when she entered, sitting at the small table and staring at a sheet of paper.

"Good morning, papa," she greeted him as she poured herself a cup of tea and added a slice of lemon.

When he didn't return her greeting, she turned around to look at him.

His sunken eyes appeared, if possible, even darker and the way his deformed lips were set informed Madeleine that she was in trouble.

"What is it?" she asked, her voice shaking a little. Her father normally only looked like that when she had done something very wrong and he was exceptionally angry with her. His fury was terrible, and although he had never hit her in her life, his voice alone was enough to reduce her to tears. It was one of the reasons she hardly ever disobeyed him.

After a moment of continued silence, he spoke, without looking at her.

"Where did I go wrong as a father?" he asked, his voice devoid of emotion. "Where did I fail? I know these aren't the perfect circumstances for a child to grow up, but I thought you were happy, for the most part. What made you hate me so, that you want to hurt me in such a way?"

Madeleine gasped and dropped her teacup. It shattered at her feet, the hot liquid scalding her bare feet, but she didn't even notice.

"I would never hurt you, papa! Never!"

"Then how do you explain this?" he asked and handed her the letter he had been staring at.

Madeleine took it and read it quickly.

Dear Erik,

I am writing for one part to let you know that I still love you.
Now that I know you're still alive, I can hardly bear to be one
day without you. Raoul and I are preparing our divorce and I
will move in with Meg for the time being.
I have tried to find you these past days, but the opera is not
exactly the safest place at the moment.
I realise that it is our daughter's handiwork, in an attempt to
keep me away and I have you all to herself, which is something
I can understand. Don't be too angry with her and let her know
that I am still her mother and that I still want her as my daughter.
Misguided love can be dangerous, my dear Erik, we both know
that, but I can't be another week without seeing you. Meet me
on Saturday on the roof of the opera, after the performance.
Please, I just have to see you. Until then, my love.
I remain

Eternally yours,

Christine Daée

Madeleine felt numb all over. When she had declared war on Christine, it had seemed the only way to get her life back the way it had been.

She had expected the Vicomtess to admit defeat and crawl back to her husband, but apparently, she was not to be thrown off.

"You yourself said you would give her a chance," Erik reminded her sadly, "what changed?"

The girls fists trembled and she suddenly whished for her mask to hide her tears behind.

"I'm scared," she burst out, "I have known nothing but hatred from anyone outside this house, and now I suddenly have to accept new people into my family? I'm only trying to protect what I know!"

Erik stood up so quickly that Madeleine gave a small shriek. He grabbed her shoulders.

"How could you be so ignorant, girl? To think that I would give you up, that I would leave you! Yes, I love Christine, I want her in my life, but I would never leave you! I don't trust in this peace entirely myself, but," he fought for words, "I am fifty-three years old, child. I want this peace. I want to wake up next to the woman I love and I want to see my daughter grow up and become the wonderful woman you are destined to become!"

He let go off her and pulled out his pocket watch.

"I will go and meet with Christine. I want you to stay here and write a letter of apology." His gaze softened. "My dear, I'm sorry for the turmoil this must be causing you. But she is your mother and, finally, you can be with her. Isn't that something you wished for?"

The performance of that night's opera had been abysmal, but the Opera Ghost had taken a break from criticizing the managers and cast for a while.

All Erik had waited for was the final curtain before he hurried up the many stairs to the roof of the opera.

How well he remembered the scene he had witnessed there once, almost two decades ago, when Christine had planned to run away with Raoul… it had been the beginning of the end. This time, it might be the beginning of happiness in his life, although he didn't dare to dream of it yet.

Christine was waiting for him and flung herself in his arms when he approached her. He held her, but didn't return any of her kisses. She pulled away a little.

"What is it?" she asked, fear evident in her voice, "What's wrong?"

He smiled down at her a little. "It's been so long. I'm almost afraid to hold you any closer or touch you any more, because you might turn out to have been a dream. Besides," he sighed, "this isn't quite as easy as I hoped it would be."

She took a step away from him, but grasped his hand instead. She shivered slightly, the grey dress she wore did not exactly provide warmth, so Erik used his free hand to drape his warm and cosy cloak over them both.

"You are talking about Madeleine, I presume?" she asked.

"Yes, who else? My… our daughter is reluctant to let her guard down, and I can't really blame her. She has experienced worse things than I have, I think."

"What will you do?"

He shrugged. "I will talk to her and listen to what she has to say…and I hope I can convince her to take a chance with this. I will never give up my daughter, Christine, you know that! Not even for you!"

She nodded. "There is not much I can do at the moment, it seems." She snuggled closer to him. "For now, I just want to remember what it felt like to be in your embrace."

When Erik returned to the dressing room, still smiling happily after his meeting with Christine, he was surprised to find Julie standing in front of the mirror, running her small hands over it and obviously looking for an entrance.

His approach had been silent, as usual, so she didn't notice him until he spoke.

"Mademoiselle Julie, may I help you?"
She shrieked and turned around. Then she recognised him and her stance softened a little.

"Monsieur Erik, I'm glad to meet you! You just met with my mother?"

Erik nodded. He was curious as to what this girl was doing there. She seemed to have inherited her mother's curiosity. It still remained to be seen if she was as meddlesome as her father.

"I am a little late then… was Madeleine with you?"

Erik folded his arms across his chest.

"No, she wasn't. Might I ask why you are being so inquisitive, Mademoiselle de Chagny?"

The expressionless mask unnerved Julie, but she fought her uneasiness bravely.

Shaking fingers withdrew a folded sheet of paper from her pocket, which she held out to Erik.

He took it, unfolded it and his eyes widened behind the mask as he recognised his daughter's handwriting.

Dear Julie,

I am writing in order to apologise for my ghastly behaviour.
I had no right to attack you and I am deeply sorry. You know
now why I wear the mask, and you can probably guess what
hides under my father's. Our faces are the reason why we
chose to hide ourselves from the world. Mankind has little
patience for those who are different. I have met many hardships
in my life, my father as well, so our distrust for strangers has
become a habit which at least I am unable to shake off.
Still, I wanted you to know that I probably would have liked
having you as my sister. We will most likely never know, now
that I am sure our mother told you that I threatened her and said
I would hurt you if she didn't give up on my father. I would
never harm you and that's something I wanted you to know.
Do not forget me, even if we do not meet again. I remain

your sister,

Madeleine

Erik was more than surprised about this letter. He looked up at Julie again.

"So what was your purpose in coming here? Do you want to talk to Madeleine?"

Julie gave something in between a nod and a shrug.

"That, and I wanted to show this to my mother and you before you become angry at her for something she would never do!"

Erik had to smile at the girl. She hadn't even known her sister for more than a couple of weeks and had only spent about an hour in her presence, yet she was already sticking up for her. What side of the family did that come from?

He brushed a stray strand of hair out of his face before crossing over to the mirror and opening it with ease.

"Christine has already gone home," he explained, "but of course you can come with me and speak to your sister!"

He extended his gloved hand to her which she took after only a short moment of hesitation.

Together, they climbed down the many stairs, crossed the lake and entered the underground house. Julie was talking most of the time, about her fruitless efforts to sing as well as her mother, about her love for the opera and Erik listened to her, occasionally making a small comment.

However, when he entered his home, something immediately felt wrong to him.

The door to Madeleine's room stood open; that in itself was an unusual occurrence.

"Madeleine?" Erik called. No answer came, so he entered the room and found two sheets of paper on her desk. One was the letter to Christine, short and to the point, the other one, however, shook him to the core. It began with the words, "Farewell, papa."

A/N: (hugs an Erik plushie) Oh, I wish I could be nice to him for a while, but he just has a tough life, doesn't he? Oh, I almost forgot. (throws Phantom cookies to reviewers) You'll get more if you review more, so hit that nice little button right down there.
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P.F.A.