Christine's thoughts
Erik's thoughts
Raoul's thoughts
Disclaimer: Since I cannot own my dear, dear phantom, I will strive to make his life happier in the following chapters to come.
One month later………
Erik raised a sleepy eye lid and cast his gaze about the Louise Philippe room warily. Dark, gloomy, well kept, same old, same old. Nothing had changed since the last night, except… Something was not right. He shot up from the bed, alarmed and shouted, panic curdling his beautiful voice.
"Christine!"
No answer.
Oh god no, not yet, not again. The blood ran cold in his veins, freezing his heart and dropping it in to the pit of his stomach, the endless black hole of misery. He shot from the room like a maniac, losing all his cat like grace for the look of a drunken idiot. With the speed of mercury, Erik flew from the room, his mind racing with images of Raoul, kissing his sweet Christine, touching her, running his undeserving hands through her hair. He shuddered, bile rising in his throat.
"Christine! Christine, amour, CHRISTINE!"
Tears slid down his cheek now, falling in between his screaming lips. A clash of bitter salty tears and chocolate from the night before stormed in his mouth. His heart raced in his chest, beating at an uncontrollable pace, louder, louder, thundering in his ears. Still shouting her name, he tore the place down, shredding curtains, trampling artistic works, bringing his once elegant lair of harmonious morbidity to a dump.
Not now Christine, you still have so much time before you wed that bastard! His eyes blurred as the tears continued to spill over.
"Mon dieu Christine! Where are you, please! Christine…" His knees gave way to the ground as the anger hit him. With a roar of anger, he slammed his fist in to the stone floor. The pain of his broken heart over ruled the pain that blossomed on his still clenched fist.
How could she… How dare she! I gave her my undying love, my music, everything that ever meant something to her, and what does she do? Throws it all away for that fucking teenage boy with an intelligence lower than a resin's! This, this is preposterous, this.. She is truly a demon! Whore! All she did when she left was release me from her fiendish hold, I don't need her. She meant… nothing.
His heart shattered and he knew he lied to himself. She was his evening star, the one that you wished upon, that guided you through the darkest of nights. He was nothing but an empty shell without her and he knew it.
He closed his eyes, trying to will away the memory of her very existence. Just as they shut, they flew open again. Trembling, he picked up the piece of folded parchment. He held the note to his lips. Midnight lilac and rosemary met his senses, it was Christine, no doubt about it. Unfolding the letter, he read aloud to his broken soul:
Fantôme de mon Coeur, (Phantom of my heart)
Désolé mon amour, but the time has come. I can not toy with the strings to your heart so carelessly as I did these past few weeks. It's not fair to you, nor Raoul. ( Since when was it ever, and since when would that damné bâtard care, what with the little Giry by his side?) You will always have a piece of my heart, for no matter how hard I might try, I'll always love you. No matter the circumstance. S'il vous plaît(please) forget me, move on! Come out of the darkness and bring true music back to Paris! Enlighten them with your genius, lord knows they need it!(he would have laughed if not for the current circumstances) I will bring you the wedding invitation as promised, a week from the wedding. ( a/-ok, ok, ok! I added a little Kay to it, couldn't help myself)I can understand if you could never forgive me, just please understand that I'm extremely sorry. Forgive me,
Si long et bonne nuit,(so long and good night-mcr baby!)
Christine
When he finished reading the note he began to slowly tear it into agonizing pieces. A malevolent grin crossed his face as he totally murdered the neatly written letter. Wild crazes for blood lust crashed down upon his desires for his ange, smothering them for now.
His whole life he had searched for love, for someone to hold and savor the harsh years with and finally, out of the darkness of chaos, Christine had appeared to him, shinning with a light so great and powerful, it sent him to his knees, yet brought him the joys of heaven.
To have that light stolen from his grasp by an insolent rich boy was completely unnerving. A lasso appeared in his mind, taunting him with the delighting, yet mysterious temptations of death. Suicide, a blissfully haunting action. Peace through pain, something Erik thought of everyday.
One jump, two slits, a sip, all could easily end his misery on this god forsaken planet. No one would care, he was the phantom of the opera, not a person. A myth to frighten the corpse de ballet and the rest of the opera in to total submission to complete power over his musical domain, now charred to the ground.
Bitter, heart raking memories returned to him, it was only a few days ago, he held Christine in his arms, oh how she fit so well! So petite! Who knew such a tiny person could bring down such a powerful man as the Phantom of the Opera. She had held his calloused hand in her small pale ones, kissing the tips of his fingers. She had forced him to swear to her that he would never commit suicide. He had foolishly agreed before releasing the true beauty in taking ones own life.
His fingers shook violently as, like a dose of morphine, his body began to relax, numb with ideas of killing himself. His anger ebbed away, pain dissolving for another day. Morbid ideas twisted his thoughts into damnable death sentences.
A swing from the ropes, a bloody fate from a gun shot. His once green eyes that dance with fire, glazed over with a sick passion for the afterlife. With a quick jerk of his wrist, he tore the last shred of paper, without a care in the world.
The pieces of my heart, doomed to never love again.
What the brilliant shadow like figure did not notice, were the tear stains permanently embedded into the now disemboweled letter, the tears of mourning love, that of the most exquisite of kinds. The tears of a love so deep, the victim of such a haunting despair, could never be rid of it, even beyond death.
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Christine paced nervously throughout fashionably dysfunctional room. Her eyes were red and blood shot from tears and whiskey. Alcohol seemed to be the only way the to get the opera ghost out of her head. Her insides rolled, creating turmoil in her lower abdomen. The liquor was wearing off and the horrid emotions began to deluge her senses. A tear escaped from the brown prisons in which it was held captive and rolled in a desperate attempt for freedom down her cheek. It reached the tip of chin before being furiously wiped away.
No more tears, the time for grief has come and pass. That which to come will surely be violence, anguish, and a broken relationship. Oh joy… She thought sarcastically. It had only been a few hours since she had left Erik's lair.
People must think me mentally insane, I looked like a mad woman coming back to this dungeon of a manor. Indeed she had, the minute she had crept through the opera house, she had burst out of the place howling like a maniac. Tears, sobs, and all. Clover galloped all the way home and she frightened the stable boy with her incoherent ramblings of fallen angels and desperate fiancés. She heaved a sigh, a nerve racking sigh that was not really a sigh at all, but half a sob, half a growl of excruciating anger/pain
You've really done it this time fool… She expected to feel annoyed with herself, maybe another fit of tears even, but this time there was nothing. Except.. The feeling of maturity. The pitiful, witless child had evolved. Fear and self pity were not a factor for her any more. Spreading her wings, she realized, she could fly.
Please say he believed the note, say he forgets me. Mon Dieu, help me through this! Grant me valor and wisdom so that I might find the right pathway to happiness. Help us all… Christine wrote her letter, hoping it would seem cold, wanting him to hate her for what she did.
It's easier to forget the ones you hate. I shouldn't have left the note, I should of told him face to face! But than… Who knows what he would have done, follow me home, kill Raoul, kill me. Her head dropped into the palm of her hands.
"Dieu…" Make him believe I'm no better than any other whore, than it's much more easier to forget about me. I felt no love for him anyways, just extreme amounts of lust and pity.
If her heart would speak, it would have sworn the whole alphabet of swear words, in every language at her lying self. Despair arouse in her gut, but she pushed the feelings of tormented love away. Raoul's carriage pulled up to the front gates, sending Christine to her feet and to the balcony.
"It's time." she murmured to herself, bile rising to her throat once more. Tremors of terror sped up and down her spine sending little tornadoes of dizzy spells through her head. Fear is a deadly poison. It can turn the fiercest of men into screeching cowards. Force one's will, stop wars, even bring oneself to face suicide. That is what flowed through mademoiselle Daae's veins. She wasn't frightened of the harsh words they would be using against each other, nor the lies, the hatred rendered, but of Raoul's self restraint level.I've seen him angry, but this war of hearts might get the better of him. He showed no restraint once before when he hit me for my ignorance, but this… Full blown betrayal still partially in bloom! I fear there might be blood shed. With that, she ran to the mantel and ripped the musket off the wall hastily, stuffing it in her drawer. Thinking the coast was clear, she stared in horror at the silver pocket knife at the side of the bed as the door creaked open suddenly.
With a running bound, she dove at the nightstand, knocking over the bottle of ink and stack of parchment. Raoul watched, extremely bewildered as his bride to be threw a small glittering object out the gaping window.
"What was that Christine?" he asked worriedly, rushing to her side. He put a soothing hand on her back which she instantly pulled away from. Raoul's blue eyes nearly popped out of his head at the temperature of her skin. It was felt like touching ice for minutes, before your fingers fall off from frostbite.
Gasping slightly, he took in full view of his Lotte. She was paler than normally, the usually smiling mouth was set in a grim pose, her eyes were blood shot with a haunted expression of sorrow etching them slightly causing him to tremble with something like fear. She looked like she had seen a specter, or had become one. The only thing separating her from the realms of darkness, were the luxurious auburn locks.
"Christine, your freezing! Come, take this blanket. Are you all right? You seem a bit woozy, sort of like a ghost!" He tried lightening the mood with a little joke, it had always worked before. He waited for her charming smile and little girlish blush to come back and save her complexion from the corpse world, but she merely raised a brow, making her look like a sarcastic apparition.
He offered her the small blanket from the bottom of the bed.
No reaction.
She just stood there, letting the silence soak into them.
"I have a confession to make." Her whisper was barely audible in the thick silence that lay over them like a blanket. Worry shot through his mind,
Does she know? She can't know, I've hidden my tracks to well. He felt like grinning at all his clever precautions, but decided against it, seeing as it was not the moment.
"What is it mon cher?"
Too late for what ifs and never minds. You've passed the point of no return. A dull aching grew in the pit of her stomach.
"You've been gone so long these past couple of months, so distant and unfamiliar, that I.. grew lonely. I felt caged, suffocated in this majestic asylum, waiting for something, anything to change. I grew empty, so empty that.."
"You didn't." Raoul took a step back, his blue eyes widening in horror. Rage burned the edges of his heart, charring them to a fine ash.
"I reached out for someone to help me in my slow decay."
"Who?" He shot out coldly.
How dare that little whore! The question shocked Christine momentarily. A knot twisted in her gut, forcefully. To involve Erik in to their cruel debate was like a sin, she not only endangered him, but ridiculed him as the pitiful creature he strove not to be.
"It does not matter who.."
"It does damnit! Who shamelessly took your innocence? Who?" He roared, the volcano of madness erupting and spewing over. Rage took a stab at Christine, along with shame.
"I did not give myself to him like that! To insult my faith so openly without further evidence is low, even for you." His hand whipped out and met Christine's cheek forcefully. Her cheek fell to the side as tears stung her eyes. She refused to let them fall, to admit weakness to him was an automatic defeat. It wouldn't happen.
With a small shout of anger, she let her hand fly and smash into his face with a loud crack that stunned even her. She shook violently as Raoul let out a string of curses. A bubble of anger burst from within her, sending caution to the winds, Christine exploded in full power.
"How dare you insult me after what you have done! Don't think that I don't know about you and Meg, I can see now! The lip stick on your collar, I'm no fool Raoul De Changy. I know what you've been up to." He froze, his and flying to his collar.
Silence.
"How long?" He rasped, finding his voice through the fogs of shock.
"I've known a few months now." Her voice was soft, but firm. The new morbid confidence that arose out of no where in his Little Lotte, frightened and astounded him. The little naïve ballet brat had ceased to exist and her replacment, still had yet to be studied.
"Oh."
Silence.
"Listen to me, if we are ever going to make this marriage work, you need to learn to forgive and trust each other. That is, if you still have the desire to marry me and not Meg." Christine's tone was icy, a reminder that their relationship was at stake. He shook himself a little, before coming back to his senses.
"Of course mon petite! Even if I did…what I did, I've always loved you. That I can assure you." Anxiety and a slight pain surged in her mind.
"And in a marriage, the two must learn honesty. You heart might have desired me , but that love was shared with Meg. I don't want to fight for your affection with Meg…"
"You won't have to, I love you! I don't want to marry Meg!" A tear slid down his cheek and he caught and held Christine's gaze. Two brown stone carvings stared back at him, encasing him in a thick blanket of unseen pain.
Her gaze was barren, like a lonely desert that lived only for the break of the sun, the only warmth it would ever receive without buildings and life to keep it alive. Blood seeped onto the tip of his tongue from biting back a gasp for so long. Everything about his Lotte was different.
"Doux Lotte, please forgive me, lets start all over! No more Paris, no more bad memories, lets both turn over a new leaf! Please Christine." Another tear escaped their blue encasings and dribbled effortlessly down his clean shaven cheek. The solid barrier of betrayal broke, releasing a fresh deluge of emotions.Do not give in! Do not let him get off so easily, you can't you…
"I will forgive you, if you find it in yourself to forgive me!" she chocked back a sob.
"You've already been forgiven, Lotte."
"Please don't call me that." Raoul halted in his tracks to hold Christine.
"What?"
"Little Lotte died with my father, so please be kind and leave the deceased in peace." An appalled and almost hurt look crossed Raoul's face just for a moment, than with ease filled the space between them to give her a chastise kiss on the lips. She felt breathless as their lips met, but not from his lips that pressed against hers, but from the ease of the turmoil.He passed it on as if it were just a mere flaw in his perfect life, a nosy fly easily taken care of. He just… Gave up, barely a fight! Did he even feel anything? The urge to push Raoul away was over looked as he himself took off for his closet.
"I never meant to hurt you my love, I really didn't." He removed a blue night shirt from the closet as though it were glass and hummed a catchy tune. Rage fumed in Christine as she recognized the song. The song she and Erik first sang when they had first met was clumsily being hummed by her fiancé. And off key too.
"Than why the hell did you do it!" Raoul spun awe struck as his little wife bubbled over with fierce anger.
"Madame Giry simply needed comfort at a time when her mother was ill! Things just got a little out of hand, Meg persuaded me to continue and…"
"Meg has been my friend for years! She would never steal the man I love away from me!" A new feeling was brought out in Raoul. Concern. It shadowed his face, shown in his eyes.
That wasn't a horrible fight moments ago, just was just the drizzle before the storm!
"It wasn't Meg who provoked you to stay with her, it was the other way around! I've read the letters, Raoul! I've seen how you've fallen in love with her." Christine breathed in quickly, the colors in Raoul's face changing to dark red.
"Excuse Me, but what right have you to throw around my heart like that!"
"You love her."
"I do…"
"You love her and you know it." Christine's fists clenched and unclenched in frustration.
Silence.
"Yes. I do." Christine bit her lip, dull dismay sinking into her heart.
"At least I loved her Christine, you went to him out of spite!" Christine shot out of her sudden depression. Her voice was cold and dark.
"That is non of your business whether or not I loved him! You…"
"Too late mon cheire, who was it? TELL ME!" He ragged, throwing down his precious night shirt. Another knife struck her heart, a direct hit.
"Leave him out of this! He need not be part of our damned tirade!" Her hard words softened at the end, leaving Raoul and her both a bit puzzled.
"Too late! Who took you Christine? Who or I swear I'll…"
"You'll kill him if I tell you! I'm no fool Raoul." Like you could ever bring Erik any harm! His I.Q is about a 100 points higher than yours. Her tone was grim and hurt. Tears smashed against the back of her eyes, demanding to be released, but with no progress. He sighed dejectedly.
"I would never… I won't kill him. I'm no barbaric monster. I promise you that." He wants to! I can see it in his eyes… But he would never go back upon his word. Erik forgive me…
"His name is…"
"Yes?" His 'yes' was too polite, no way in hell was she going to tell him now.
"Raoul, he.."
"God forbid! He was probably some lazy bum looking for a nice young girl to get close to.."
"IT WAS ERIK, GOD DAMN YOU!" She heard the air exit Raoul's lungs. It abandoned her own, leaving her with a dull aching feeling.
"Who?" he said weakly, blood draining from his face.
"Erik, do you not remember him mon doux(sweet)?"she hissed bitterly.
"You went to that monster!" A purple vein pulsed viciously on his forehead, threatening to pop at any moment. Christine concentrated on it, seeing on how long till it burst. Anything to distract the horrid aching deep in her gut.
"Yes Raoul, I went and fell in l…"
Fucking Imbecile! Both their pallor's paled immensely, leaving two corpses standing in the room.
"What was that last thing you said?" he shot sharply at her now quivering form
"I… fell in love with him." She chocked, drawing courage from thin air. Raoul's fist flew through the air, colliding in to the wall with a loud wham!
a/n- this will be an eventual e/c. sorry I couldn't get this out earlier, recent tragedies stood in my way of it's completion, this time I promise the next chapter will come much more quickly. Thank you for the kind reviews. Christine does love Raoul, I just have to bring that in to further detail for the few who didn't understand. My apologies.