Alright, I didn't put a disclaimer on the last one cause I was bad. So here it goes.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of the Phantom, Raoul, Christine or any of the others. They belong to Gaston Leroux and also to Mr. Andrew Lloyd Webber (well, the songs anyway) So not mine, I only write through the patience, ignorance and benevolence of the above.
A/N: Thank you so much for all of the reviews. They were absolutely unexpected, although a blessing, and the feedback was encouraging. Sorry that I haven't written a bit sooner, but I've been in tech week and the first three opening nights of my show, so it has been a bit difficult. Anyway, I'm here now and so are you so thanks very much and enjoy.
Static and light filled my thoughts and nothing comprehensible could be heard coming from my mouth at that moment. Before I could fully grasp what was occurring around me, Christine had vanished and a deafening rumble could be heard. For one sparse moment I clung to the thought that the world would now collapse in on itself if she were forever with him and the clamor surrounding me must be a result of such a transaction. However, as light, voices, dreams and fears came tumbling down upon my eyes and mind, I was forcibly brought back into the Opera Populaire and the newest disaster its resident demon had brought forth. Panic and an explosion of feelings overtook the audience as fires immediately broke out among boxes only moments ago occupied by the elite of France. The feeling of broken glass entered my entire body through intense heat, scalding light and in immeasurable thought of deep loss. The Opera's prize chandelier, a symbol of grandeur, vibrancy and joy, catapulted itself towards the stage in a final gesture of the Phantom's vehemence.
Options narrowed in my mind as I saw a clear path to the main floor of the Opera and adrenaline alone dropped my body down from the delicate golden box. Outside stimulus seared every nerve as I could intensely feel the burning of my hands on the curtain rope, a sharp impact at my ankles and a sensation of freefall. As all of these assailed me, I could sense them so acutely that an analgesic effect was produced and nothing seemed real. I could not feel anything but panic, if that one word could even begin to encompass what was actually coursing through my body. Every fiber in me wished to go in opposite directions concomitantly, yet flesh was the only thing restraining such a movement. Figures rushed past me, both of smoke and form, not holding any more posture in my mind than one solitary crystal on the doomed chandelier. Memories, both antiquated and fresh solidified into a sharp, paralyzing fear for the one woman that could coerce me into so willing a hero.
I moved with a wild slackness reminiscent of only such unrestrained emotion as Mac Beth or Romeo could have possessed. Spiral stairs caught my vision and drew the eye upwards towards the towering warrens of the tiered Opera Populaire. Costumes, masks, paints and metal fabricated the guise which hid the dark underbelly of an intricately sinister theatre. They gave one the feeling of the absurd and capricious, and only months ago had gone unnoticed by both Christine and myself in our lofty grasp to ascend above the webs of deceit and entanglement which held her so tightly.
The cold remembrance of snow swirling around an icy red cloak filled my brain as I stumbled blindly towards the my last hope of recovering Christine. In the echoes of my mind, I could still hear the trepidation in her voice and see her shaking form standing frozen and alone on a rooftop in Paris. This rooftop. I had done my best to reach out to her amidst my own confusion and she let the words from my mouth fall to the ground like the swirling flakes of snow.
"Christine, Christine." I had meant to comfort her with what small reassurance I could muster, but her spoken name seemed to bring even further shudders of sightless panic. Her head turned delicately as dark eyes sought for something that was unseen to me. As much as I could not begin to understand what was plaguing her so deeply, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around her shaking form. Some resolution needed to be found among the dark shapes of the Opera House and its tantalizing draw. There had to be some way out.
Silently I led Christine closer to the comforting light of the roof's glass domes, never once letting my eyes leave hers or her hand slip from mine.
"No more talk of darkness, forget these wide eyed fears. I'm here. Nothing can harm you. My words will warm and calm you." Every word that left me was said with all possible truth. I did not know what had happened to her in the dark lair of this Phantom. Part of me questioned whether I truthfully wanted to partake in that knowledge or not. I did not know of what she had been subjected to or what had been asked of her. I did know, however, that a new fragility and fear had arisen that I had never seen before. I could not be aware of what he had asked of her. What I could do, though, was to ask less and infinitely more in a space of only words.
"Let me be your freedom. Let daylight dry your tears. I'm here. With you, beside you. To guard you and to guide you." Something began to become unburdened inside of me as her eyes lifted and a soft light shone in them again. A voice that had only moments ago been laden with the weight of a world was slowly becoming free and pure again.
"Say you'll love me every waking moment. Turn my head with talk of summertime. Say you'll need me with you now and always. Promise me that all you say is true. That's all I ask of you."
"Let me be your shelter, let me be your light. You're safe, no one will find you. Your fears are far behind you." When feelings run so deep, promises can only be matched with promises.
"All I want is freedom. A world with no more night." Her soft footsteps crushed the delicate snow as she turned from me and walked forwards; the show of a clandestine pain that I could not, and perhaps would never, know. Every movement of Christine's burdened body exemplified the words drifting wispily from her lips. She longed for the freedom that I hoped I could honestly offer. "And you, always beside me. To hold me and to hide me." A feeling of joy began to rise in me as her words ran concurrently with my own. I grasped her cold hands in my own as I spoke. I could no more easily hide the emotions in my voice than I could conceal one of the grand statues surrounding us with only the palm of my hand. The unrestrained joy that exuded from me felt as if it would cover every rooftop in Paris.
"Then say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Let me lead you from your solitude. Say you'll need me with you here, beside you." I turned Christine's back into me and let her gaze out upon all of the city, knowing that she would see all that I knew I felt. "Anywhere you go, let me go too. Christine, that's all I ask of you." She needed to comprehend that whatever weight had been placed upon her by the burdens of her Phantom, anything that I could ask of her would not laden her further.
"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Say the word and I will follow you." Despite the darkness and heaviness that fought to pervade us, a new hope was growing within me that the worst had passed.
"Share each day with me, each night, each morning."
"Say you love me."
"You know I do."
"Love me, that's all I ask of you."
All that I had known of good and evil in heaven and earth melted away as nothing seemed to exist but the two of us. The blackness surrounding her had been lifted for a brief moment in time and we were free to offer everything and ask for nothing but everything else that could be given. We were free. And for a brief flash of time, nothing could tie us to the earth and the wretchedness which permeates it. We were in love. And we let all of Paris see. I knew that I wanted to hold her like this, with all of Paris at our feet, and my arms safely protecting her for as long as we both would live out this life.
"Anywhere you go, let me go to. Love me, that's all I ask of you."
The feeling of frigid snow and crisp air was suddenly attacked by heat and force as a panicked body hit mine and sent me reeling slightly backwards. I had promised that anywhere she went, I would go too. And now I had to follow.
The burning in my limbs increased as I ran further and further into the towering inferno that had once been the Opera Populaire. Madame Giry was the only remaining hope that I could grasp onto, as mysterious as she was. I had promised Christine and I had to find her before it was too late.
"Where did her take her!" I quickly came up behind the slender woman and spun her around with a free arm. It seemed to me at that moment that she too understood the importance of speed, as neither of us ceased our frantic movements.
"Come with me monsieur, I will take you to him. But remember, keep your hand at the level of your eyes." Meg briefly tried to follow, but turned to block the running crowd as an obedient child.
"Come with me monsieur." As I ran towards the bleak unknown, I could not have even comprehended what would await me. A dull fear coursed in my head as bright shapes and people turned into dark shadows and forms. I would find her. No matter the personal consequences.
Well, that was a blast to write, actually. Hope it was enjoyed and believe it or not, reviews are kind of crucial to my desire to continue this. Being as it is now late at night and I am using up sleep time, I need to be assured that people are actually going to read this. Please comment negative and positive. Love ya Steph and thanks for all the ping-ponging.