Here it is, the long awaited wedding between the Phantom and Christine. Just an FYI, the rating on this story will go to an "M" with the next chapter. Enjoy, and please review!
You Set Me Free
Deeply shaken by Christine's deviant behavior, Raoul left the opera house. He couldn't find the strength to go home, though, and face his brother's scorn. Instead, he crossed the street to a café and ordered a shot of whiskey.
It took him until the third shot to finally calm down enough to think rationally about what had happened. He rubbed his cheek where Christine had slapped him. He had never thought her capable of violence, but he had the evidence to the contrary. His lip still throbbed and burned if he allowed the alcohol to come in contact with the cut from where she had bitten him two days ago.
He pushed his hair back behind his ears. Nothing was making sense anymore. Nothing had made sense from the night he had been reunited with Christine after the gala. She had whispered to him about her Angel of Music and he had mistakenly thought she was still playing their Little Lotte game. It had taken him months to discover the truth, that her Angel was real, was in fact the Phantom that had been terrorizing the opera house for years.
Downing the last of the liquid in his glass, he indicated to the barkeep to pour another. He toyed with the glass after the man left, remembering the night of the Bal Masqué and his foolish leap after the Phantom into his chamber of mirrors. His intentions had been noble, but would have ended tragically save for his rescue by Madame Giry.
He tossed back the shot, feeling the warmth spread through him. That woman was too secretive by far. Raoul was certain she still knew more than she was telling about the Phantom. If she had been the one to bring him to the opera house, been his only ally though the years, then she must have known of his malicious relationship with Christine. Hell, from the things she had said about their so-called "love" for one another, she probably encouraged him to take advantage of gentle, vulnerable Christine. The thought twisted his stomach.
Whatever could have possessed Madame Giry to force Christine to endure the attentions of such a monster? That the Phantom was a creature of evil, Raoul had no doubt even though he himself had never seen what lay beneath the mask. Christine's description had been vivid enough "...so distorted, deformed, it was hardly a face…"
Raoul shook his head. Thank God Christine was no longer under the demon's influence. At least he could be proud of that, that he had slain the dragon and freed the princess. The image of Christine kissing the tall man in the cloak the other night floated past his mind's eye. "Freed her so a different sort of evil could harm her," he muttered. "Some knight in shining armor you are."
The bartender returned, whiskey bottle at the ready, but Raoul waved him off. Any more to drink and he would be lucky to make it home tonight at all. He paid his tab and got wearily to his feet. He was out of ideas.
Despite the late hour, there was a boy still outside the café to fetch cabs for the patrons. Raoul handed him a coin. "Run across to the opera house and tell the cab there he has a fare."
The boy shook his head. "That one's taken, sir. I heard the gentleman tell the driver to wait when he pulled up. I'll run down to the corner and get you one."
"Very well," Raoul sighed. He leaned against the exterior wall of the café, wondering idly who would be visiting the opera house at this time of night. His question was answered when one of the theater's doors opened and a man in a top hat and formal wear came out. He held the door for the three women with him. They came down the steps and crossed to the cab. Raoul had a clear view as the man helped first Christine, then Meg into the carriage. As he gave his arm to Madame Giry, he leaned down and kissed her cheek.
What in the blazes? Who was this man, and where was he taking Christine? The man removed his hat before climbing into the cab, and Raoul finally recognized him as Dr. Jarred. But what was Christine doing with him? She hadn't appeared sick, in fact, she and Meg had been laughing and smiling as they got into the carriage. And when had Dr. Jarred become so familiar with Madame Giry? Nothing made sense. Nothing made sense at all, except—
The truth struck him like a bolt of lightning, and he yelled for the cab driver to stop, but the carriage was already rumbling down the street.
Who had told him that the Phantom was dead? Christine, and Dr. Jarred. He had never seen the body. Who had kept him away from Christine in the days following the Bal Masque'? Madame Giry and Dr. Jarred. He had never visited Christine while she had been ill. Who had always seemed to latch onto him every time he tried to see Christine? Meg Giry. She had always insisted on carrying a message to Christine, rather than taking him to her.
Raoul felt his insides twist in despair as he made a half-hearted attempt to chase after the cab. He came to a stop in the middle of the street, letting out a bellow of frustration. How could he have been so blind, so incredibly stupid? Christine was an actress, for God's sake! It had all been an act, the illness, the grief, the madness—a play for an audience of one. And there could only be a single reason for it. That fiend was still alive!
His cab drew up to the curb then, but it was too late. Christine and her band of merry players were long gone.
Seated in a chair close to the front of the Church of the Madeleine, the Phantom concentrated on keeping his breathing even, trying to calm his nerves. He felt as if a nest of vipers had made a wriggling, writhing home in his stomach.
He checked his pocket watch again. Quarter 'til eleven. She would be here; Christine would be here. He tried to ignore the taunting voice in his head that whispered he was dreaming, that the past month with Christine had all been a dream. He was dead and in hell and this was his punishment, to wait forever in a church for a woman who would never arrive.
The Phantom clasped his hands together, then hastily unclasped them when he realized it might make him appear to be praying. He didn't believe in God, or at least in a God who would have created him, a God who would turn a blind eye to all the suffering in the world. A wry smile twitched his lips. Strange then that he could believe in angels but not in God. Christine was his angel fallen to earth, the light guiding him from his world of darkness. If he could not have her in his life, he realized he would rather die than return to the blackness. The thought sent a shiver through him, the sudden rush of fear stirring up the snakes again.
Closing his eyes, he pressed his fingers to his temples. The door in the vestibule opened, the sound echoing loudly in the quiet church, but the Phantom dared not turn around and look. If he looked then Christine would disappear like Euridice, only he would be the one plunged back into Hades. Footsteps clicked on the stone floor, growing louder as they approached him. He still could not make himself turn around.
A hand dropped onto his shoulder and he jumped. "You can relax, Erik," Tristan's voice said in his ear. "Your bride is here."
The Phantom let out the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. He got to his feet a bit unsteadily. "The priest," he murmured.
"I'll get him," Tristan said, and left the Phantom alone once more. He somehow found the courage to turn toward the church entrance. He could see his love in the shadows, Meg and Cecilié helping her with her veil. He pinched himself, relieved when the pain let him know he wasn't dreaming after all.
Tristan returned with the priest, who took up a position in front of the altar, his Bible open in his hand. The Phantom moved to the end of the center aisle, Tristan standing to his right. Cecilié left the vestibule and came toward the front, stopping to hug the Phantom and kiss his cheek before taking a seat.
The Phantom turned to face the back of the church as Meg started down the aisle, moving with her dancer's grace to music only she could hear. He barely noticed her, his gaze hunting for his first glimpse of Christine. As Meg reached the front of the church, Christine stepped into the aisle and the Phantom felt his heart stop.
She was truly an angel in her ivory gown, her white shoulders bare, the slight swell of her breasts enhanced by the lace border along the low neckline, the veil covering her face but not hiding the joyous sparkle in her eyes as she met his gaze. She carried a single crimson rose tied with a black ribbon in her hands, and the smile on her face was the most beautiful he had ever seen. Meg's procession had been slow and measured; Christine fairly flew down the aisle toward him, the train of her dress flowing like water behind her.
Swallowing hard, the Phantom held out his hand to her, feeling her fingers wrap around his as she took her place at his side. She looked up at him, mouthing a silent "I love you" before she turned to face the priest. The good Father read a few passages from the scriptures, but the Phantom barely heard, his attention entirely focused on the woman beside him.
Despite the warmth of her hand in his, part of him felt as if he was moving through a fantasy. For so many years, he had imagined what it would feel like to be loved, to have someone look upon his face and smile instead of scream, to have someone want to be near him, to touch him, to kiss him, to make love to him. But all his dreams, his fantasies had never prepared him for the reality of Christine. She was so much more than he had hoped for. She loved him for who he was deep inside; she saw possibilities in him he never could imagine on his own. She turned the ghost into flesh and blood. She made him real.
A poke in his ribs from Tristan brought the Phantom's attention back to the priest, who was saying something about marriage vows.
Christine handed her rose to Meg and turned to face him as they joined hands. He looked into her dark eyes, seeing her love for him burning brightly. He could only hope she saw the same when she gazed at him.
"Angel Erik Noir, will you take Christine Jeanne Daaé here present, for your lawful wife according to the rite of our Holy Mother, the Catholic Church?"
Christine's eyes widened and she gave a little gasp as the priest spoke the name the Phantom had chosen to begin their new life together. He smiled at her and answered, "I will." Then he repeated his vows after the priest. "I, Angel Erik Noir, take you, Christine Jeanne Daaé, for my wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part." He saw tears starting in her eyes as he finished, and he squeezed her hands.
"Christine Jeanne Daaé, will you take Angel Erik Noir here present, for your lawful husband according to the rite of our Holy Mother, the Catholic Church?"
Her gaze never left his. "I will." As he had done, she said her vows, her fingers now tightly clutching his. "I, Christine Jeanne Daaé, take you, Angel Erik Noir, for my husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part."
Angel blinked back tears of his own, raising their joined hands and gently kissing the back of her fingers. "How many times have I called your name, wondered if you hear me, see me, know the things I'm feeling in my soul? You turned around and you answered me, you held out your arms to me, helped me when I needed you the most. You set me free, finally I see, you set me free. In you I can believe. You set me free. You're everything to me, you set me free."
Letting go of her hands, Angel lifted her veil, cupping Christine's face in his palms, his thumbs wiping away her tears. Reaching up, she gently removed his mask, passing it to Tristan, her hand curving around his cheek as she sang to him, her voice thick with emotion. I was alone when you came to me, saw that I was naked, broken. I couldn't find the strength to carry on. You lifted me up and you sheltered me, you opened up your heart to me. Loved me when I needed you the most. You set me free, finally I see. You set me free, in you I can believe. You set me free. You're the one who loved me. You're the one who opened up your heart to me. You set me free."
Tristan handed Angel the ring then, a simple gold band he placed on Christine's finger as he said, "With this ring I thee wed, and pledge thee my troth."
Christine's hands were shaking so badly he was afraid she would drop the ring Meg gave her, but she managed to slide it onto his finger. "With this ring I thee wed, and pledge thee my troth."
Together their voices rang through the empty church. "You give me strength to carry on, you give me faith. You give me love, you give me joy, you give me sunshine in my life. You set me free!"
As the last note faded away, the priest said, "You may kiss the bride", but Christine was already in Angel's arms. He bent his head down, his lips lightly brushing over hers. Christine wrapped her arm around his neck, drawing him closer, her mouth warm and tender against his. When they broke apart, he whispered, "I love you," in her ear.
"Angel," she sighed, "I love you." Then Tristan was shaking his hand, and Cecilié and Meg were hugging and kissing them both. The signing of the marriage license was a blur, and it wasn't until they were all inside the carriage on the way back to the opera house that he truly realized the woman tucked in against his side was now his to love forever.
It was a beautifully terrifying thought.