Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera… happy now? You've reduced me to tears!

Erik took his seat next to Madame Giry, eyeing the quilt at the end of her bed like it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen in his entire life. Christine stifled a laugh and tried to stop her eyes from straying to his porcelain mask. Thoughts kept on rushing through her head, some pleading with her to go and profess, she was not sure what, but something similar to what she felt before. Another part was telling her to run from him as fast as she could, to go any where else. Any place but where he was. The turmoil inside made her almost completely unaware of the conversation unraveling before her.

"Your husband, sorry -- fiancé -- how is he?" Madame Giry said in her thick French accent. She swayed slightly in her position before resting her head on the pillows behind her. Doing her best to act natural, Christine leaned back in her chair, the Parisian smile crossing her features. Casting a quick gaze to Erik, she continued casually.

"Raoul, this last week has been absolutely terrible for him! Not to long ago, he was bit by an poisonous spider and became deathly ill. We were all scared out of our wits!"

Was it just her, or was Erik grinning? Glancing over again, she saw a glint of vengeful laughter in his eyes. His mouth remained a thin line, but she could easily see the muscles in his jaw working hard to prevent him from just outright grinning. Little flashes of anger lit her own eyes as she straightened in her chair.

"Luckily, I was able get a doctor to operate on him before the wound became even more infected." She said slowly, watching carefully for Erik's reaction.

"Oh Lord! Goodness child, how is he now?" Madame Giry asked, her stern voice full of worry. Erik did not stir; he barely even blinked as she glanced again. Only in his deep green eyes did she find her answer: he was quite disappointed. She sighed inwardly, before brushing a renegade curl away from her suddenly hot cheek.

"He is very well now, Madame. In a few days his will have almost completely healed! He heals fast, so he should be as good as new the day we wed." There it was! In his eyes, she saw the flicker of sorrow that sent the burst of emotion throughout her body.

No! But it was too late, the unwanted feeling seeped into the very tips of her fingers, the toxin mixing with hot blood that pulsed madly through her veins. She saw her angel in a whole different view, not from the old lover and friend, but something more….

"Well, that's lovely, my dear. Wouldn't want a little spider affecting your happiness." Erik's fingers balled up in to trembling fists. How he wished he could run from the vixens trap! To flee this tomb in which he thought he could burry her memory, back to the drug induced sleep he'd wished would take him already. Whatever hell had in store for him, he was ready to face it. As long as his angel's presence left him, he would be at peace. Every time his eyes grazed her flawless features, he would swoon with the urge to reach over and burry his head into her thick chocolate locks.

Control, Control, Control. He remained stone and his hands relaxed.

But Mlle. Giry, what if the spider is what's bearing my happiness?

"Y-yes… that would be terrible." she said in something louder than a whisper. Regret bit at her gut, take back my words, I don't think that's what I truly wanted… needed to say! Remorse slid over Erik's grim face. A flicker of pride sparked in his malevolent eyes, a cold smirk drawn on his lips.

I'm not prey for this Pandora's box, and I will emit no key to open the lid to my eternity of loathing in self pity. Only in her eyes, do I cast myself lower than the most scathing creature alive… Christine, Christine, Christine. (he shivered slightly) Your era in my life will never end, that I am sure, but the strings of my heart you will puppeteer no longer. That I can promise myself.

"Oh yes, Mum. Will you be able to make it to the…erm…"

"Wedding?" asked Erik, his face bitter stone. Christine nodded, her fingers trembling under the safety of her skirts. Mme. Giry eyed both the obviously uncomfortable guests warily before closing her eyes on both of them. Christine brightened up immediately at this, her palms had started to sweat with eagerness and she had to get out of there.

"Mme.! You look terribly tired, I shall leave you to rest. Au rev…"

"Non! Don't go running off now, girl. I'm not like one of the little dancers I teach, whining and bawling at the slightest pain. Veinir maintenant. All I have is Erik to talk to otherwise and all he does is argue about things. And wins the argument for that matter."

The smirk morphed into a grin, "Complaining about me again Mme.? And, well, we do not always fight. We do have passive chats,"

"That consist of 'Bonjour' and 'Comment allez-vous?'" Christine grinned, the tension in the air fading. She sat back down and listened to the two's conversation, adding in here and there, always making a smile come to one or the others face. Every time Erik did smile, it sent little title waves of joy over her. With those waves, came the drops of poison. Leading her slowly to a dreadful conclusion, in which, she had yet to learn.

"No, no, no. You've got it all wrong. Persia is not a place for a delicate lady like yourself, Mlle. Although as flamboyant luxurious it may seem, Persia is a dangerous place with men trying to entice young women like yourself into unsightly traps around every corner." Erik said, in a matter of fact tone. Christine gave Erik a quizzical look, her eye brow rising slightly in interest.

"And, how, may I ask, do you come across this information. You've never mentioned a visit to Persia when I knew you." A steady drip of perspiration ran slick under the masked side of his face. Never had he brought up those years in Persia, too anyone other than Nadir, who moved back to his home land after hearing of the death of the Shah, a fierce ruler who would have done anything to see Erik's head served to him on a sliver platter. Dare he share it with these two and expose himself more than was necessary? To bring him closer to Mlle. Daae and possibly ruin the fragile friendly relationship they had began to build upon was a chance he wasn't willing to take.

"I had visited there once, as a hired architect to help build the late Shah's… private domain." He didn't mention that it's true use was to fulfill the twisted mind of the Shah, in torturing his victims in sick and gory ways, even Erik shuddered to think of.

"Erik? Are you all right?" Mme. Asked, placing a comforting hand on his sleeve. Christine watched his face go slightly pale and his hand quiver under Mme,'s. Her heart flew out to him though she knew she couldn't try to ease his pain, without falling into the path of her silly heart. Erik nodded, green orbs focusing on the end of the quilted bed.

"You would not wish to travel to Persia, it's much too humid there... I would suggest Venice, it is like no other experience, it's lovely."

This was part of the past he hates so dearly. Pauvre Erik. If only I could reach out and help, without loosing control. He turned his head wearily and met her wide sympathetic eyes.

You alone could make my song take flight… He thought wistfully, butterflies eating his stomach inside out.

"Very well than, I know you've been dying for me to ask you this Erik," Erik's thoughts came back to earth and a malicious grin toyed with the edges of his lips. "How are your opera's coming along? You told me just the other day about…"

Oh no. A bomb dropped in Christine's chest, I have to get out of here.. "If you'll excuse me, I need to check on Clover." Mme. Giry whisked her hand to the door and continued to ramble on about his current master piece. Erik's eye brows knit together as he watched Christine fly from the room.

"What was…"

"It's that time of the month Erik." The white mask on his face did no good to cover up the ruby hue of his hot cheeks, only causing it a reflective glow.

"Well, what is this one about? Something morbid that all of society would reject passionately for it's truths and beauty?"

He laughed, "Is that what you think of all my operas?"

"No, no… Yes, it's fair hard not to. Except for a few, they all fit the description." His green eyes rolled mockingly,

"I can't argue with that…"

"Exactly, now go on." She snapped, neatening the blankets so they lie flat around her sides.

"If you would have let me finish…"

"Come now Erik, we haven't all day." Musical fingers wove in and out of the sleeve cuff, fingering the silver button anxiously.

"Shouldn't we wait for…"

"Erik, knowing Christine, it will be a long time before Christine comes back," The ruby was fading into a darker crimson now, his face glowing with edgy discomfort. There are some things he'd rather not know about Christine and this was an example of one of them.

"Oh.. Yes. Ok, it's a dark romance about a young woman, so lost in her life that she resorts to suicide only to be saved by someone she never thought she'd ever meet…" A crystalline drop rolled off her porcelain doll cheek. She knew the story like the back of her hand, it was her own…and it still hurt to hear it. While she and Erik were together, she had come across a few sheets of music, describing their previous engagements.

Her body quivered outside the door, her breath coming to quickly. She felt faint, but fought it off by leaning up against the wall, biting her lip fiercely. A tender finger traced the scars on her wrists. They remained hidden, heavily coated in pale powders. Although, she could still see each rip into her delicate flesh, each drip of rose red blood. Another tear descended from mocha eyes, splashing down on the shaking fists.

How can I forget you when you're etched into my flesh? How can I forget your love, when I still yearn for yours? She glared viciously at her palms, hot tears streaking her flawless façade. One little scratch wouldn't harm anyone. Or a few for that matter. Raoul wouldn't see them, he's too blind to issues like these and, though she hated to do it, she'd lie to get away with it. 'It was the rose bushes fault, I fell.' Her finger nails dug into the skin under her palm as if beneath the thin layer of skin, lay gold. Tiny droplets of blood blossomed on her wrists through jagged slits. I can't do this… but it's not suicide… just freedom.

"Shh… Mon petite." Muscled arms enfolded around her, catching her in a mid-way fall. "It's ok, I'm here, you're safe." She gasped, looking up in to the sad eyes of Erik. Before he could say another word, she threw her arms around him, embracing him tightly. He looked down on her curly head, trembling slightly, put his arms around her a little tighter.

"Erik, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Please…" Her tears stopped and she froze. "No!" She pushed away fiercely, running to the stairs and bounding down them, two at a time like a mad woman. He stood there dumbstruck, unsure of what to do.

"Erik, mon dieu! What did you do!" She was there in his arms, the living image of Christine, nestled in his arms. She wasn't about to escape from him so easily! He bounded down the stairs, in hot pursuit of Christine, still trying aimlessly to catch his breath. Tears tickled the corners of her cheeks, her pallor undecided on whether or not to be colored misty white or crimson red.

"Mlle.?" Jonathan questioned, fear in his eyes. She pushed past the shaking servant and exploded out in to the court yard. "Mr. Lesaurus! What in…" Jonathan shut up again as the man was helplessly thrown aside like a rag doll.

"Christine! Wait! Please, speak to me!" She bit her tongue, suppressing a sob. Looking around, she finally spotted Clover, feasting upon a little patch of grass.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" She whispered helplessly to no one in particularly, her hands groping at Clover's saddle. Erik never imagined she could run so fast, even in his nightmares, when he saw her run from him in fear, he always seemed to catch up to her.

"Christine, please! Stop this and…" He reached the stable doors and burst backwards as Christine charged out on Clover's back.

In the wake of determination, Erik took a chance and lunged in front of the rampaging mare.

"No!" The frantic horse reeled, it's master nearly flying from her back. His hands shot out and caught the frightened animal's reigns, cooing gently at the horse until she calmed. Christine watched, spell bound to his shifting hands, trembling. Her breath came fast when at last she whispered, "No."

Another tear bit at the corner of her eye. The lid fluttered shut, along with it's companion.

"Christine, mon petite, look at me." He reached out a large hand to whisper across the cheek of his beloved.

"Oh no…" She pulled her face away from his touch that burned, though his fingers were ice. "Don't crucify me to a dream that could never exist Erik. I'm engaged! I do not love you any more." She said, barely audible in the sudden deafening silence. Two chocolate eyes flickered open and fixated their glossy gaze on the mare's black mane. He closed his eyes, his vision blurred by uncontrollable tears.

Fight it, he told himself plaintively. She can't be able to bring you down with a few metaphorical words! But… she can.

"A dream? Is that all I will ever be to you? A dream? All this time, I've been chasing a dream, just a beautiful dream that haunts and has hurt for what seems like a life time. Is that it, Christine?" His fists shook with unfathomable rage spun delicately into a wheel of misery.

"Not every tale ends happily, Erik, just… let me pass!"

" You cannot brush this matter of so easily! This jovial behavior cannot persist in…"

"Just stop it! You've done enough damage in this part of my life! And I'm sorry I've had the same effect on you, but the best thing to do now is just… move on." They both froze, those fateful words hanging in mid-air like a threatening storm cloud. The hands controlling Clover's reigns fell away, limp to his sides. His eyes went blank as he stumbled backwards.

"You've no idea how this dream keeps on twisting into a nightmare." She murmured under her breath, her eyes raining tears. She gave Clover a swift kick in the side, before turning around to see the form of the phantom drift into nothing. "How when this nightmare ends, I wish it was you there in the end." She focused her eyes on the road ahead before breathing, "I love you."

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Meanwhile…

"Don't look at me like that Raoul, you know why I am here." Barked the small hooded figure at the De Changy door.

His heart raced with fear as he whispered in one of the servant's ears, "Do not let her come in, she may not, under any circumstances, come in to this house!" Meg stood in the front door, looking over a babbling servants head and at the tall Raoul.

"Why, monsieur? Isn't she the mademoiselle's friend?"

"Yes, but…"

"Raoul De Changy!" She bulldozed the whimpering maid and trudged over to Raoul, face bright red and sour. "How dare you ignore me monsieur! After all those nights pleading…"

"Shh! Hush, silent, come in here! Don't let the servants find out!" He clamped a hand over her mouth and half dragged her in to a dimly lit study. Maria chuckled from her dish washing stance, a silver plate in her hand. "Oh Monsieur, you have no idea…"

"Raoul, why wouldn't you answer my letters? I thought you were dying or something less dangerous. What happened?" She demanded, crossing her arms over her chest moodily. Raoul bit his lip, he looked at her soft purple dress, cut off at the shoulders. She shivered and Raoul ran to start a fire. Pink lips quivered above a stubborn chin.

"Meg, I told you this before, we can't be together and…"

"That doesn't mean we can't be friends like before!"

"Meg, we weren't friends before. We never really were." The pink lips quivered more violently.

"Raoul, why can't you…"

"Are you asking to cheat on my fiancé…again!" He sighed sadly. He still loved her, just not as much as Christine. How he wished than he could move to Persia and marry them both! Give up Catholicism for love? Naw, the almighty wouldn't like that. He thought dubiously, motioning for her to take a seat.

"Well… I mean…" She fidgeted with the ends of her shawl. "Can you blame me?" She gave a weak smile before gracefully falling into the cushiony chair.

"No… I guess I can't. No one can choose… these things just happen." He sat behind his desk, starring critically at her left earlobe.

"I know," She sighed defeated. Raoul woke up out of his daze, shocked.

"Wh-what!" Never in all the time had he known her had she ever gave in so simply.

"You heard me. I was a fool for trying to come here and persuade you in to coming back to me. I just wish love wasn't so damned… hard!" He nodded, worried about her easy defeat. A little tear welled up in her eye, "I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't of come here, Christine wouldn't like it. And Maman always told me I was too persistent, it's just, well you know. I love you and everything and I don't want to hurt Christine again. We've been friends for soo long! I just wish she wouldn't have found out about you know, us! Either that or I have been your childhood sweetheart. We would have still been together and, and… things would be good again." She found his eyes, her honey ones boring in to his sky blues. He swallowed, clearing the lump in his throat.

"Meg I can't… we can't. We can't hurt her again."

"I know." Tiny fingers rubbed chilled arms, sadness penetrating her usual chipper nature. A tiny tear trickled down her cheek, her hand flying up instantly to meet the approaching invader.

"Here," Raoul was by her side in an instant, a blue handkerchief in his hand. "Don't cry my dear. This feelings.. You have will fade." He caught himself, she cringed tighter into a little ball.

"Thank you.. I know…but what if…"

"They will cheire. I promise." She dabbed at her eyes, like her Maman showed her, not like a whore after she did her job, she remembered and handed the sopping fabric back to him.

"Thank you." She jumped to her feet, bouncing on the balls of her shoes. "Raoul, I must be leaving now so…" She raised her hand, poised to slap him and pat his cheek. 'I love you Meg', 'I love you too.' Was the conversation he wished to have, but settled for their pert goodbyes. Something told him, that this situation, wasn't about to get any easier.

"This couple just keeps on getting interesting and interesting…" Shot Maria to another, younger maid, Aliana. She giggled nodding along with Maria.

"If I know De Changy, something very unexpected will happen. Praise God, it will be for the better."

A/N: ok, I added a lyric from HIM into this, 'cause it fit so exceptionally well. I decided to give you R/M fans something to go on… there will be more of them in the story too.