A/N: Hello everyone. Here is another chapter. I'm sorry my updates are so spaced out lately, but work has heated up a bit plus the holidays!
Thank you so much to all those who reviewed! Reviews mean so much to me and keep me motivated like nothing else can! I address all you who reviewed individually below, but we are apparently not supposed to do that. So starting from this chapter, I'll respond to all signed reviews directly in the form provides. If you submit an unsigned review I don't have an 'approved' way to respond, but please know I really appreciate the time you take to tell me what you think!
nelygirl—I'm so happy you like the story despite the suspense!
The Whisper—I hope you don't mind the way the lair scene went. One of my goals with this story is to keep Andrew Lloyd Weber's version of the story intact because, frankly, it's perfect! So I didn't want Lucette crashing in throwing off the balance ALW managed to achieve. As you have probably guessed by how spread out the updates have been lately, I write the chapters one at a time. I do have a rather detailed plot summary already written, however, so that is a big help!
the black swan—I'm glad you are still enthusiastic about the story. I know I'm biased, but I'm enthusiastic too. It will be completed, just not so fast as it was at first.
chudesnaja—Thank you for your review. In my opinion there is no such thing as a "late review." It was such a pleasant surprise to receive your review after I thought that was it for the chapter! I'm glad you like the story!
Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera. If I did, I would have better things to be doing than writing about him.
The Choice
Erik's POV
"You try my patience—make your choice!"
As I said this, I had no doubt that I would kill the boy if she chose to leave. In fact, I would be hard pressed to spare him if she chose to stay. I was suddenly filled with awe as I realized that she could choose to stay.
I gave her music. Together we could be happy with our music. Without her there would be nothing. She would take my music with her when she left, and leave me alone in silence. I knew that she would not fare much better. She would be stifled by society—her true worth never properly appreciated. She must stay!
"Pitiful creature
of darkness…
What kind of life
have you known…?"
Damn it would she come to the point!
"God give me courage
to show you
you are not
alone…"
I watched her in wonder as she came towards me, adorned in her bridal white. She was choosing me! The next instant her soft lips were pressed to mine, and I have never known a greater bliss. No one had ever touched me like that before: with such love! I loved her and she chose me!
Only because you would kill the boy.
No! She chose me because she loved me!
Perhaps so; but she loves the boy as well, and it is with him that she wishes to spend her life.
No! I must dismiss these thoughts. Christine's lips had still not left my own and I wanted to enjoy it, not be plagued by sudden doubts.
I was able to quiet my own qualms, but in the same moment a well remembered voice surfaced in my memory: "Erik, if you really love her, you may have to let her go." Damn Lucette's interference! I was always plagued by her advice, and always when I least wanted to remember it! Now it had thrown my thoughts into uproar.
Christine pulled back slightly. She looked at me and I could see the tears gleaming in the back of her eyes. She would stay with me, I could see that; but in truth I could also see that she wanted to be with the boy.
I could not quiet my thoughts: things Lucette had said, things Christine had said, things I knew to be true but could not accept. I felt I would go mad if my thoughts did not slow down, and yet they continued to clamor one on top of the other:
She wants to be with the boy, but she will stay with me…
A face so distorted, deformed it was hardly a face in that darkness…
Touch me, trust me…
Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime…
The choice must be hers, or else it is no victory for you…
Yet his voice filled my spirit with a strange sweet sound…
Angel of Music you deceived me. I gave my mind blindly…
Past the Point of no return…
I love her…
If you really love her, you may have to let her go…
And then suddenly I was crying. I hated crying. I had not cried since early childhood until just recently when I heard Christine and the boy on the roof. Now she had me crying once again, and I could not stop. My choice had made itself, and I did not like it.
"Take her—forget me—forget all of this." I said this as I freed the hated young fop: Christine's true choice.
My already broken heart was shattered into smaller pieces as I saw with what joy Christine ran to the boy. I would die, and no one would care.
"Go now! Go now and leave me!" I shouted. And they left. That was all. I sat heavily on the ground, and tried to conquer the pain that stabbed through my very core. I knew it was useless.
Lucette's POV
As I drew nearer to Erik's home the voices grew louder. I heard Erik shout, I assumed at Christine, to make her choice.
When I finally rounded the outcropping I saw Christine's choice even though I had not caught all of her verbal reply. I felt a wave of nausea pass over me as I saw Christine kissing Erik. My heart experienced the same ache it had felt in the dreams only with greater intensity, and my body tensed, preparing itself to drown.
When Erik pulled away he was crying and my heart went out to him. For a moment I wished Christine would simply take him back into her arms just to sooth him. Then I saw what he was doing: he was making the right choice on his own! He did not need me to help him do it. He let the Vicomte and Christine go of his own volition.
I was so glad to see him make this choice on his own that for a moment I forgot what agony it must put him through. I had to get to him. He needed a friend right now. I waded through the lake the rest of the way to the portcullis.
It broke my heart to see him singing to a small monkey on a music box. He looked so lost and helpless. His mask was nowhere to be seen and his hair was utterly disheveled. The all-powerful Phantom of the Opera had disappeared; now there was only lonely, heart-broken Erik. My brow furrowed in love and pity.
I opened my mouth to call out to him, but before I could I saw Christine coming back towards him from the side tunnel. She chose him! I always thought that she should, but I never thought she had the courage. Yet, here she was. I saw him stand up, suddenly alive with hope, and move towards her. I saw Christine reach for his hand and I knew there was no reason for me to stay. I turned away, trying to be happy for Erik. And I was happy for him.
I began the seemingly long walk through the lake back to the far shore; and as I waded, I wept. Erik would be happy, but I never even had a chance.
As I approached the far shore, I heard the angry voices of the mob. In my distress I had completely forgotten about them! I was such a fool! I turned again and began splashing towards the house on the lake. I had to warn Erik, but the first of the angry members of the theater soon caught up with me. Fortunately people were straggling in from all sides in a completely disorganized fashion, and no one took notice of the fact that I appeared to have been there before any of them got there.
I decided, for the time being, to let them think that I was a part of the mob, and I went with everyone towards the house on the lake.
By this time, my muscles were aching from pulling myself and my numerous skirts through the lake, and I thought I would drop in the water. I was determined to keep going, however, to make sure that Erik and Christine got away. I would not let his happiness be cut short by the brutality of a mob, however much he might deserve it in blind justice. Justice had never been blind to him before, always condemning him for his face; I would not let Erik suffer now.
I caught a glimpse of Meg up ahead. I was glad there was another woman at the forefront of the mob (I heard female voices behind me, but I could not see these ladies) as it made my own presence there less suspicious. I avoided letting Meg see me, however. At first I thought she was leading them to Erik, and my blood boiled with anger; but then I saw how she anxiously tried to keep an eye on everyone at once and how she scanned the area with a look of concern. I thought that perhaps she meant to help Erik and Christine. I kept out of her sight nonetheless.
I struggled to keep up with ones who would enter Erik's house first, but I began to lag behind. I strained my ears, but could not make out any sound of a fight or angry words. There was nothing other than an eerie silence.
I finally rounded the outcropping for the third time that night. I gasped in surprise. There was no Erik, no Christine. I saw some of the others looking down the tunnel through which Raoul and Christine had left and Christine had returned. They turned away and continued to look through the rest of the house so I could only assume that they saw nothing there to cause them alarm. I should have guessed that Erik had multiple entrances and exits to his house, and most of them hidden.
I finally made it to land, and sat down heavily on the steps. The whole cavern was covered in broken glass, but there was no sign of anyone. They were safe. Erik was safe. That should be enough for me.
I would probably never hear from either of them again. They would need to start a completely new life in another place and sever all ties to the theater. Erik was now a wanted man, there was no other way.
I glanced over my shoulder and saw Meg lifting Erik's mask off the floor. They must have left in quite a hurry then, I thought, for Erik to leave his mask. "Of course they left in a hurry you dimwit," I berated myself. They must have heard the mob and ran for it.
As I engaged in my unpleasant thoughts I heard a crash behind me that made my heart jump into my throat. I turned, and what I saw changed all my sorrow and exhaustion to pure rage. Several of the drunker members of the mob were taking a sledgehammer to the organ.
I jumped up and with strength I did not know I possessed pulled the large hammer out of the hands of the man who was holding it. He had it held up over his shoulder right before taking another swing so the force of my pull brought the drunkard down with it.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I shouted.
He laughed up at me, and I felt the nearly overpowering urge to bring the hammer down on his ugly face.
"Lucette! You should not be down here," someone called from behind me.
I turned to the voice, and saw Marc Louis coming towards me. He had always been kind, and had shown me particular attention since Erik's entrance had cut short our dance at the masked ball, but I felt no inclination towards him now.
"None of us should be down here, least of all drunk idiots," was my retort.
By this time, the man I had knocked down had shakily risen to his feet. It seemed his initial amusement had turned to anger when the room would not stop spinning once he rose. He made a grab at the sledgehammer, but I threw it into the lake. He then released his anger on me.
"You stupid bitch!"
I was certain he was going to hit me and I prepared to hit him right back. I didn't care about anything any more, and the prospect of beating a worthless excuse of a man to a pulp sounded really good to me. I think I was so angry that it did not occur to me that he would probably down me before I did much of anything to him.
Looking back it was fortunate that Marc Louis intervened. With his dancer's reflexes (not to mention the fact that he was sober), he caught the angry man's arm midair.
"Come now, Lothair," Marc Louis said as he shoved the man's arm back to his side, "you will regret hitting a pretty young woman in the morning, almost as much as you will regret being drunk enough for that same pretty young woman to have disarmed you.
"Lucette," he continued turning to me, "I know how you feel about music and the instruments that create it, but these things belonged to a scoundrel and a murderer."
Suddenly a way to stop the ravaging of Erik's home came to me.
"You're right," I said, looking at Marc Louis with the most winning face I was able to produce at the time, "but they do not belong to him anymore. As of this evening they are evidence, and will probably eventually be transferred to the ownership of the theater or the government. If we destroy it we could be held libel."
He paused for a moment, and he seemed to hear the sense, for he shouted what I had said to the others. With in moments the vandalism had stopped. I am sure that many left that night with some of Erik's smaller possessions in their pockets, but at least his larger things were spared.
After Marc Louis had calmed the crowed, people began to leave. It seemed that Erik's house could not hold their interest once they were banned from destroying everything in sight.
Across the cavern I saw Meg looking at me oddly. I was not sure if I felt up to speaking with her or not, so I was grateful that Marc Louis was still talking to me, even though I was only catching bits and pieces through the numbness in my heart and the exhaustion of my body.
I was called back to reality when I felt Marc Louis wrap his arm around me. I pulled away from him, and he looked down at me questioningly.
"Lucette, please, let me take you back. I was not meaning to take a liberty, but you are soaking wet, shivering, and your lips have turned quite blue. I just want to try and get you back before you catch your death of cold."
I realized that I was cold; so cold in fact that my head had begun to pound with a ferocity I had seldom experienced. Yet, I did not want to go. I wanted to stay until all the others had gone and then search the place myself. I had to be sure that Erik was really out of danger.
"Look!" Marc Louis said, "Pillier found a little boat at the end of that tunnel. I could take you back now with out you having to get yourself soaked again."
I shook my head and was immediately rewarded with such a searing pain through my temples that I grabbed Marc Louis's arm for support.
"Lucette, there is nothing you can do here, and it is obvious you are not well," the concern was evident in his voice, "so, please, come."
With that he began to guide me down the steps to the landing where Pillier, whoever he was, had moored the boat. There was only one thing Marc Louis had said that stuck in my mind: 'there is nothing you can do here.' He was right. Erik was with his Christine. He could have no use for me. I might as well leave, and preferably in a boat rather than walking through the confounded lake yet again.
I was amazed at how much quicker the journey to the opposite shore was in a boat as compared to wading. Even in a boat clearly built for two or three at most carrying four, it seemed no time at all before we had docked. Meg and Pillier were with us: Meg to go back to the upper stories, and Pillier to pilot the dinghy back to the cavern for use by some of the others.
Marc Louis tried to make some conversation to cheer us up on the seemingly endless stairs (I had decided to keep my short cut to myself, especially as I had no creditable way to explain how I had come to know of it), but it was only Meg who responded to him. My mind was too befuddled with thoughts of Erik and Christine. As we approached the top, he and Meg also grew quiet.
It was their sudden silence that reminded me that we did not know what we were going to surface to. When we had gone down there was quite a conflagration, and we had no reason to believe it would be over. The question was would there be a way out?
We came up through the trap door into a smoky corridor. It was nearly choking, but by staying low we could breathe well enough. Marc Louis asked me and Meg to stand back as he first felt a door and then opened it.
"Come right through ladies," he said with noticeable relief in his voice, "the air is much clearer here."
We went through and could breathe normally. Marc Louis shut the door behind us, and we went swiftly through the next hall towards the kitchens. We began to hear voices shouting to one another and soon were in the café which looked quite as it always had; except now people were rushing back and forth with buckets of water.
I came to learn that the Paris Fire Brigade was considerably quicker in responding than they generally were. And it seemed that as soon as one of the lighting coordinators had finally got a hold of himself, he was able to turn off the gas main in the first cellar. This stopped some of the fires immediately, as they had not yet really taken hold of fuel other than the gas. The fire brigade had the fire in the auditorium and the stage put out quicker than they had hoped. Now they and those of the theater were gaining control of the countless little fires throughout the building. That was the reason for the buckets rather than the newer hoses.
Meg said something about finding her mother and left through the wide double doors of the kitchen. Marc Louis joined the line of men who were transferring buckets of water. It looked like he was trying to gather information from them as they worked.
I tried to decide whether to follow Meg or join in those running buckets of water through the theater. I felt ridiculous standing there by myself. I felt I would be worthless carrying water, I had hardly the strength to hold myself up, but I did not know what else to do.
I began to cross the few yards that separated me from the continually moving line of men when one of the Fire Brigade entered and caught sight of me.
"'Ere now," he said, "you can't be in 'ere, miss!"
"Oh, sorry," I said, stupidly thinking that he meant the Café.
I started towards the far door that would eventually lead my to my room, thinking that I could see how bad the damage was in that wing of the theater, but the man from the Fire Brigade stopped me again.
"Now where do you think you're going? Quickest way out is back there," he said pointing toward the kitchen doors.
"Oh yes, of course. I suppose some one will tell us when it is safe to come back in?"
"No doubt, but that wont be for a good while I'd wager."
He must have seen the dismay on my face for his next question was asked in a kinder tone of voice: "Are you one of them that lives 'ere?"
I dumbly nodded my head, which earned me a look of sympathy. I resented his pity: the fire in the theater was the least of my pain right now.
"Look, 'ere's what you should do," he continued, "you go outside and you find some of your friends as live 'ere too. You all go in on a little place together for a bit until the theater reopens or you find somethin' else."
There was little else I could do, I supposed, so I turned towards the kitchen doors. After just a few steps, though, I turned back to him.
"What about our things? Do you know if any section of the theater was spared?"
"Well, bits and pieces are badly damaged, but others only need the smoke cleared. I'm sure in a day or two the management 'll let people in to salvage what they can of their personal effects."
"Thank you."
He pulled at his cap and I left the building through the kitchen entrance.
It was pandemonium outside the building. The police were there keeping those who had left the building from reentering; also, I guessed, to make sure that no ne'er-do-wells took the opportunity to rob the theater and those who lived there.
The street was crowded with the carriages of the wealth audience members and those of some of the leading performers. The cast and crew of the opera were standing in tight groups that formed a huge crowed around the opera. There were man servants and physicians darting around everywhere trying to tend to all the wounded.
I felt utterly lost. I wanted nothing more than to sit on the opera steps and cry. I was so cold and so miserable that I did not want to have to deal with life.
Suddenly a thick blanket was wrapped around my shivering frame and I turned to see Mme Giry and Meg behind me.
"I'm so glad we found you!" Mme Giry said in an uncharacteristic display of emotion.
I tried to say something, but my voice caught as the tears I had been suppressing all night finally came.
"Don't worry, explanations will wait for tomorrow." Mme Giry said quietly. "Now come, both of you. We need to get you girls dry and warm."
I followed them to a hired carriage not even knowing where we were going, not caring where we were going. I just tried to comfort myself by saying that at last Erik was happy. But the thought of Erik and Christine right now at some inn in the countryside laughing and happy, doing God knows what did not steam the tide of silent tears streaming down my face.