a/n: I'm so sorry I couldn't get this out sooner like I promised! My computer got extremely messed up and ruined all my files. The next chapter will come much more quickly!(I swear!) Black roses with red ribbons around them to my reviewers. enjoy
Chapter 6
Almost a week. Christine thought looking out her window with a soft look on her face. Since the day Christine had tried her fate with suicide and had been saved by her angel, she had almost never left Erik's side. Except when she knew Raoul was going to be home, than she was forced to stay at home, locked in her cage with no where to run. Although she loved her fiancé very much, Christine felt overbearing guilt every time she saw Raoul smile boyishly and wink at her with admiration.
Is this what he feels when he looks at me? Remorse? Self hatred perhaps? Christine thought bitterly, a knot twisting in her gut.
Every time we see each other, it's always so unnerving and awkward, I feel as if this was the deep breath before the plunge, waiting until one of us bursts in to a screaming tirade. I wish things could be like they were in the old days, back at the opera, when we were both innocent, sharing one love. She heaved a great sigh and watched as Raoul's carriage sped away into the setting sun. A deep longing pain slid it's black blade into a weak part in her heart, unleashing a tear from her heavy eyes. Another ran from the other eye, only this one not of love, but of a fierce hate. She loathed him for leaving her constantly to be with Meg, to enjoy her time while abandoning Christine to the dark dungeons of his vast, yet suffocating manor
You are sickening bastard Raoul De Changy! Imbécile! Of course, I'm not much better. I'm actually twice as worse.. After finding out he's with another woman, I go and find myself someone to cheat back with! A small tear slid from the corner of her eyes before she closed them and brought her knees to her chest, not caring that if she moved any more to the right, she would teeter off the edge of the balcony falling to her doom. She wasn't afraid of heights anymore, well not much.
The battle of self hatred, love, and desperate longing began waging a violent battle inside her chest, fighting brutally to see who could take over and lead her down the unbeaten road. Biting her lip in frustration, Christine clawed at her wrists. Searing pain shot through her arm, waking her up from her tormenting daydreams.
At least I didn't sleep with Erik, makes me seem somewhat better.. She shook her head, humored at her foolishness.
I'm acting as if Meg and Erik weren't living people. Like they were dolls or something you could dress up and show off. She rolled her eyes, pictures of herself and Raoul parading with Meg and Erik tucked under their arms, dressed wildly in extravagant finery and ribbons. "Lord." She whispered finding a slight sense of peace among the madness of her life.
Erik is much more than a person I've taken a liking into, I love him. A warmth settled over her small form, a smile playing on her lips.
My ange de musique, without you, I'd probably be here, dying of loneliness… Either that or I'd be six feet under. The wind whistled through her dark curls, sending a shiver through her body. She tilted her head towards the full moon that just began to poke out it's shadowy head. Feeling the blissful darkness take her under it's sweet enticing spell, she began to sing a soft melody,
"Past the point of no return,
The final threshold,
The bridge is crossed so stand and watch it burn,
We've past the point of no return."
Something cool and light was pressed to her lips and she jumped from her perch, fear flooding her body. Christine faltered and lost her balance, falling to the rocky ground below. Her eyes flew open, watching helplessly as a black figure slid his hands around her waist, her deathbed vanishing from view.
"Erik!" She nearly screamed, enveloping him in a huge hug. Christine's sudden movements forced the Phantom backwards onto one of the Persian rugs.
"Monsieur, don't you know how to use a door knob?" she teased sweetly, rolling on top of her angel to give him a tender kiss on the lips. "Why mademoiselle, than I wouldn't have had the pleasure of sneaking up on you and shocking you to the core, sweet ange." He returned her kiss, slipping a hand under her chin.
"Haven't we been in this same position before?" he asked twirling a curl around one of his fingers.
"Dee-ja-voo." She got off him, pushing out a hand to lift him from the ground. Ignoring it, he shot to his feet.
Erik and his pride. Christine thought sarcastically taking his hand in hers and leading him to her bedroom.
"I welcome you Erik, to my prison cell!" she called mockingly, waving her arms in flourishing waves. He smirked, raising an eyebrow. Looking around the room, his eyes adjusting to the pale glow from the candle light, he glared disgusted at the miss-matching finery. The walls were a pale green wall paper with dark purple flowers etched into it, along the walls were magnificent, yet out of place oil paintings with some of the finest details portraying pictures of lilies t pictures of old De Changy family members. There were also several of the most grotesque fur rugs he had ever seen. He noticed Christine avoiding them as she walked to the room and sensed her obvious discomfort about the poor animals remains lying about the floor. Butchering animals for their fur was inhumane, even in Erik's eyes it was sickly.
The bed was a rather magnificent piece among the priceless collections of junk however. It was a tall black bed with tiny carvings of smooth angels fluttering about the vast marble bed. Dark magenta outlined the faces of the gloss immortals that climbed to the top of the black heaven, which draped white silk about it's velvety confines gracefully. Crimson laced pillows softened the sharp edges of it, creating an almost peaceful atmosphere about it. It was so inviting, Erik had to almost control himself not to go and grace his hands upon the realistic immortals. His thoughts were lost in the amazing art work of the bed, that he almost didn't notice that his angel was asking him a question. Blushing furiously under his mask, he approached her.
"What was that you said Christine? I couldn't here you clearly." Liar.
"Sont vous assoiffé?(Are you thirsty?) I can swipe a bottle of wine before the maid notices it's gone. Or if she catches me, I'll just tell it had been a bad day.." She closed her eyes slightly, fading into a blissful state. The fact that her Phantom was so close delighted her and sent tiny shivers of emotion down her spine.
"Non, non. I'm fine, but you seem a little parched by the slight rasp at the end of your sentences. Allow me to get you something." Gesturing a little towards the door, Christine nodded, not paying full attention to his movements. Like the whisper of a shadow, he slipped out the door way and into the dark hallway.
Who knew the Vicomte, always dressed in his 'finest', could have such bad taste? He told himself smiling maliciously. Portraits of sullen De Changy's starred gloomily at him as he slid by. Coming to a great marble stair case, he marveled in dismay at how sloppily the architect had achieved in making the probably intricet details seem pointless and unnatural. Vulgar paintings of the ancient Roman gods lay at the bottom of the stair case, along with some more fur rugs scattered about the polished hardwood floors.
How can Christine bare to live inside such an ugly monstrosity! No wonder she spends all her time on that balcony. If it were I, I think I would have burned this place to the ground! Damnez Raoul! How could he lock up such an exotic bird that yearns to be free in such a vile cage. My poor mon cheire.
Christine flopped back on to the bed, the last thing from graceful. She literally sunk into the great folds of crushed velvet, sighing with joy as the silky cloth brushed against her softer skin. A memory of some of her first days in the opera house sprung to her mind.
It was just a little after bedtime, and Meg had snuck into Christine's room to warn her of the dreaded Phantom of the Opera.
"Meg! What took you so long?" asked Christine tiredly, letting the little blonde sneak into the room, very pale.
"Maman had almost caught me! I had just barely made it, I swear she knew it was me though, she had that look on her face, like she does when she tells me to mind my own business." Meg whispered exasperated at her mother's 'noisiness'. Christine laughed softly and motioned for Meg to take a seat at the end of her bed. She gracefully settled herself along her pillow while Meg flopped down like a dying animal.
"You wanted to know about the phantom of the opera did you not?" Meg asked dramatically, trying desperately to seem mysterious. Christine suppressed a laugh and playing along, trembled the words"Yes! Who is he?" Amusement filled her voice and Meg glared.
"Alright, the Phantom of the Opera is no laughing matter Christine. He actually exists, I've seen him myself! He lives somewhere in the opera house, hiding." Her eyes lit up as fear tingled down her arms.
"He plays nasty tricks on people and can curse them with horrible luck. He's so menacing, that he can control the managers like puppets! So maman has said.. He sometimes decides on which players to cast in the plays, and is paid 20,000 francs a month! He wears a deaths head and a fedora and a long black cape and…"
"MEG GIRY! What are you doing in mademoiselle Daae's room! Christine, what are you doing up so late, go to bed now! Meg, come you fille folle(foolish girl), we wouldn't want the opera ghost to be learning of your disobedience, now would we?" Madame Giry whispered furiously at the girls. Meg's mouth dropped in horror and sped out of Christine's room with a rash, "Bon Nuit!" Madame Giry closed the door to her room with a swift "Bon niut." and left her in the darkness. She shuddered beneath her blankets, the terrifying picture of the Phantom of the Opera flashing under her eyelids.
"Father, I wish you were here, I miss you so! I'm frightened of the Ghost papa, he sounds horrid." Tears fell from her cheeks as she waited and hoped in the silence, that there would be a response from someone, anyone, but no one called back reassuring words. Nothing. More tears fell as the feeling of complete emptiness took over. Than, she heard it. That was the first night she had met her ange de musique.
A cool breath slid down her neck, sparkinga rich flame of heat in her. Erik's cold calloused palm slid down the side of her face, relishing her soft features in his mind. The graceful down sweep of her neck, her chocolate brown eyes burning holes of desire in his head, the elegant curve of her lips, the pink flush in her cheeks, it was almost too much for him. Almost.
The fire of his love burned brightly in his rising chest, sending small waves of warmth through his normally icily numb body. Before he could stop himself, he had lowered his lips to her neck, slowly kissing her, taking in her flavor of roses and ripe citrus. His mouth had never tasted something so exotic, so smooth yet tangy. Trailing a trembling hand down her curves, entranced in her beauty, he pulled away abruptly.
Idiot! She's trembling, she's terrified. I've seen this far too many times. His heart sank, the fire dying slowly, to just a candle's size.Christine, just noticing his uneasiness, the shivers of pleasure vanishing, caught his hand and laid a soothing kiss on it. The turmoil that raged in her heart only an hour ago disappeared, the victor-love.
He watched, mezmerized, her lips meeting his skeletal flesh without hesitation or regret. The flame burst into bloom, sending deluging emotion throughout his body, his heart mending and revealing his innocence.
"Mon amour, would you sing to me?" Erik jerked from his trance like state to stare dumbly at her.
Quick, she asked you to sing, répondez plus vite! He told himself hurriedly, trying to say something intelligent.
Silence.
Anything will do, just say a word, any word will do.
Awkward silence.
Oh I'm such an idiot. Tellement pour le génie!(so much for genius) He could feel her large brown eyes on him, a giggle escaped her lips, damaging his pride slightly. He closed his eyes, not caring what non coherent word came from his mouth as long as he said something.
A long unearthly word escaped his lips sending his face into wild shades of deep crimson. Christine coughed, trying madly to cover her laughter so not to hurt his pride any more than it already was.
Why the hell must 'mon amour' bring out such strange actions! She laughs at me! Speak, Erik, chanter?(sing)! Just do something!
Opening his mouth , anger flashing in his eyes, he began to sing another nonsense word. Loudly. Two fingers were suddenly pressed against his mouth, shutting up his strange song. A fit of giggles erupted from her mouth sending a surge of fire through Erik's already tense body.
"I'm sorry Erik, but if you continued to sing like that, as beautiful as that sounded," She said sarcastically, making him flush even deeper with annoyance. "You would have brought about the maid and this would have been a bit hard to explain." Motioning her arms about Erik's body, he sighed exasperated.
"Désolé.. I…err… lost it. Again." His head hung, a look of defeated pride playing across his face.
"Would you like it if I sang for you? I've been practicing more lately, being shut up in this house doesn't leave much else to do." Her little hand ran through his hair, playing with edges of his mask. His breath caught in his throat. He jerked his head away from her touch, sitting up quickly. A cold wall of porcelain rose up between them, separating their feelings once again. Frowning in discomfort at his sudden stiffness, she out perhaps the only thing that could melt the wall of ice between them.
A long unwavering note clouded the air with it's triumphant glory, her angelic voice bouncing about the room. Closing her eyes and leaning against the bed post, she sang,
"Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation,
Darkness stirs and wakes the imagination,
Silently the senses, abandon their defenses,"
She paused, breathing in deeply as Erik's eyes widened in utmost amazement. How can she have remembered? It has been so long since I had sang it to her. And yet… Falling into the spell of her voice, his head slowly fell to the bed, the musik taking over his senses.
"Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor.
Grasp it, sense it tremulous and tender.
Turn your face away from the garish light of day,
Turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light -
and listen to the music of the night …
Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams!
Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before!
Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar!
And you'll live as you've never lived before,"
Christine pulled herself closer to Erik's body, feeling no warmth coming off of him, yet feeling heat blossom in her chest. Adjusting her head so that her mouth lay by his ear, she let her hand glide across the unmasked part of his face.
"Softly, deftly, music shall caress you
Hear it, feel it, secretly possess you
Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind,
in this darkness that you know you cannot fight
the darkness of the music of the night!"
Stroking the black hair out of his eyes, Christine gave way to a pool of reserved emotion, letting her voice soar through out the room like a powerful wave.
"Let your mind start a journey through a strange, new world!
Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before!
Let your soul take you where you long to be!
Only then can you belong to me,"
Drawing her hand down his chest and than back over his face, she closed her eyes, relishing his cool skin. If there was ever a moment that I wished could last eternity, this would be it…
"Floating, falling, sweet intoxication!
Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation!
Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in
To the power of the music that I write
The power of the music of the night"
Erik's voice echoed around the room as well, the final lyrics gaining complete power as it rose to it's fullest extent. Than, as if their godly power never existed, they dropped their voices to a whisper for only their ears to hear.
"You alone can make my song take flight
Help me make the music of the night"
They ended, drawing their lips together in a passionate clash of love and longing. She moved closer to him, her hands streaming through his slicked back hair, heart racing. Erik's powerful arm encircled her waist, pressing her tightly to his chest. Never before had Christine ever wanted to give in to desire so badly, even with Raoul there was no such heat, no uncontrollable fierce desire to never let go and live eternally in the arms of each other. Not now Raoul… She thought agitatedly, but quickly forgetting him in her mad thirst for Erik's love. Her hand slid smoothly to Erik's mask, toying with the edges, threatening to rip it off.
Sensing this, Erik brought his skeletal hand to hers, pulling it away gently. His hands felt free among her rich curves and soft skin. With out thinking, Erik bit Christine's lip ever so softly. Almost shocked, Christine let a slight moan. Mistaking her moan of pleasure for pain, he released her lip, pulling away deeper into the fabrics of the pillow.
"D-Désolé Christine. I did not mean to hurt you.. Forgive me." Looking curiously at him, Christine gave a weak smile and pinned him to the bed, mischief brewing behind her glossy eyes. He's almost as bad I was when I was first learning the language of love.
"What is there to forgive when no wrong has been committed?" Tenderly, she bit his ear with her teeth, feeling him relax again, there lips meeting mid-way and merging passionately. Her hand slipped from her slippery perch and she lowered all her weight on to Erik clumsily.
"Désolé mon amour." she whispered in to his mouth. Her apology went unnoticed as the two kissed even more passionately, Christine's small body now resting on top him fully for support. The new contact she accidentally stumbled upon, caused excited tremors to flow down his back, he loved her tiny form on his body. Longed for more, but knew he had to restrain himself, he could never take Christine that far. He had to stay in his blissfully tormenting dream, getting only close enough to kiss and touch her. Nothing more. She was Raoul's and always would be. No matter how badly he hated it, she could never fully belong to him.
Icy cold air sprang across his right cheek suddenly. No, Christine, how could you! Prying Pandora! Pushing Christine to the bed he jumped off furious with her actions.
"Why must insist on seeing the face of a demon! Is it amusing to you to watch me suffer while you gawk at me? Speak mademoiselle! Your horror glistens fresh in your eyes and it pains me to be betrayed so. Beware the wrath of this 'beautiful angel', for he does not like his immortally 'blessed' face to be starred at with such hatred." He hissed sarcastically, glaring at her behind steely eyes, the porcelain walls which had been melted by musik returned, sealing them both off from each others passions.
Fury surged through Christine, flushing her hot cheeks.
"Oh lord in heaven, bring mercy upon the thick headed man in front of me! For although he seems to be that of a genius, remembering even the slightest of details of the most anonymous objects from decades past, he can not remember the words I spoke to him only a year ago!" She retorted angrily, bringing herself to knees, chest heaving with rage and fear. What is wrong with me! Who knows what I might have urged Erik to do just now! My pride is as bad as his..
"Do you remember monsieur? Do you remember that night when I told you of my feelings toward your face?" The indignation of Christine's haughty attitude shocked him, yet enraged him more. His lips were furled into a deep scowl, his eyes flashing malice.
This haunted face holds no horror for me now… Her words echoed through his mind. Anger ebbing, he loosened his tight fist, starring at Christine with the same malice he has shown her moments before. Their eyes met and Erik almost gasped at the glossy surface of her eyes. She cries in fear of my temper. You scare the only thing that is pure in your life, she does not need such violence to be used against her.
It's in your soul that the true distortion lies…
His eyes threatened to leak over, but he held they back with dam made of fading anger.
"I told you that I didn't care what you looked like. In fact, I think you look better without this vain mask on. That just doesn't seem to be getting through to your self conscious head!" Spat Christine, her usually calm appearance, now gravely pale. Trying to hide her trembling hands, she stuffed them in the blankets of the bed, unable to hide the fact that she herself was shaking.
Now you've done it, you've really crossed the line this time! Look how furious he is… You can't keep your mouth shut for your life sometimes. Don't turn away now though, I must hold my ground!
Silence.
God damn you, speak! With no response to her insults, she began to worry. The acrid salty taste of blood sprang from her lips, teeth embedded into the fleshy insides with insane nervousness. Minutes passed with the two in complete silence.
Why did I say those things! Every where he goes he's insulted, yet here I am, hurting him, the one he loves. Erik's green eyes were locked with Christine's brown ones in a silent death match of who would last the longest.
With stand the pressure! With stand… Oh hell! I've had enough! Sighing into herself, she crumpled to the bed. Lifting an eyebrow in surprise, he watched his angel admit defeat
"Forgive me. I did not mean to upset you. I… just wanted to see mon ange in his true form.." Guilt flared in Erik's heart, his scowl vanishing to a frown. His shoulders drooped, "Christine, stop." He whispered.
His eyes grazed her frame, her auburn locks swaying in front of her face, masking her loss, her fists clenched tightly in front of her. Looking up from her apology, he stared, startled at the tear that dripped from her cheek. Guilt smacked him in the face, almost knocking him off balance.
"Don't cry, you know how much I hate it when you cry." He stammered, focusing on a rather interesting piece of fabric on his shoe.
"It is not your place to apologize for something you did not do. Forgive me… No one has ever cared for me as much as you and looked upon my naked face with love. I did not mean to upset you…" Two fingers pressed themselves against his lips, silencing him in to shock.
"I love you." She slid her warm palm over the bumps and ridges of Erik's face. Any anger that swelled in him before vanished, only his love for her remained. Closing his tear stained eyes, Erik let his head fall into her hands. Softly, she pressed her lips to his forehead.
"Come, I shall not have you collapsing on to the carpet in your state." Grabbing his hand, she led him to her bed, letting him sink gracefully into it's feathery confines. She mistakes my anxious hope for exhaustion. Silly child… Sleep was something Erik could do without, but for his angel's satisfaction, he would drift and seem like he was sleeping.
Holding back a grin, Erik let his eye lids droop farther and farther until it seemed that sleep had taken him. Ever so tenderly, she moved closer to her Phantom, wrapping a small arm around his shoulders. He thought he would explode when she kissed his lips.
"Sleep my ange de musique, dream to your hearts content." Resting her head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth radiate from her chest straight to his, she let her mind wonder..
A week… The best week of my life! No I can't say that. If I wasn't in love and engaged to Raoul, this might have been the best week f my life. Alas, this won't be able to last long. Burning guilt can only be pushed off for a limited time. I don't want to do it, but I know I have to. This can't go on when we're are married! Meaning sometime soon, I will have to confront Raoul. Ice descended upon her heart that night, chilling her to the bone.