A/N: -deep, heavy sigh- Well… you knew it was coming. I tried to be nice about it (-snorts- Yeah right! I'm out to make you cry!) and stick all of the Erik suffering pieces into one chapter, and NO, this does not excuse you from reading and reviewing it! –winks- Just please, PLEASE, and I KNOW this is very hard for some of you, but don't bash Raoul TOO hard; sympathize with poor widdle Erik all you want, fondle him, cuddle him, offer him a cookie (though the last one's already taken care of), but leave Raoul alone. I don't even care if you beat up on Christine, but Raoulie doesn't even think the Phantom EXISTS, let alone that he might be stealing Christine from him.
Disclaimer: No. Phantom is not mine. THE Phantom is mine –snuggles Erik- but the story is not. Sorry, folks— I know that probably broke some hearts, but we'll get through this together. ;)
When my mind stopped finally buzzing long enough to form a comprehensible thought, my mind drifted immediately to Christine. It hadn't even occurred to me that I might have ruined her chances at playing the Countess with my little act of violence against the drunken stagehand. Buquet's murder had, in my mind, been an unfortunate but necessary measure taken to preserve my own sacred privacy; the man had come after me with a knife, for God's sake! Had I been thinking instead of responding instinctively (and I will never cease to berate myself for not pausing to consider the consequences of those fateful moments), I would have realized that my beloved, beautiful, radiant Christine would be terrified and aghast and stricken by my brash, adrenaline-spurred actions.
Oh, what a damned, arrogant fool I was!
I suddenly burst into a full-out sprint, dashing madly through the dark, abandoned tunnels, my heart throbbing in my chest. The cries of the audience still echoed from the main auditorium, haunting me no matter how far or how fast I ran.
But all I could think about was reaching Christine. I had to explain… apologize, beg, something, anything…
Finally, I heard her voice directly below me. To my utter horror, it was choked with tears, and even worse… she was accompanied by that damned vicomte! I dropped down onto my stomach, peering desperately through a tiny crack in the floorboards. She clutched my signature rose in one hand and de Chagny's wrist in the other, pulling him through the crowds, away from the auditorium. I leapt to my feet again, following along just above their heads.
Raoul glanced back and forth from the auditorium to the hysterical Christine, his brow furrowed in concern.
Why have you brought me here? He demanded. We must return…
Christine's eyes were trained on the winding staircase ahead, her brown eyes wide and flooded with tears. We can't go back there, she insisted. He'll kill you… I stiffened, closing my eyes painfully. Now even she believed me to be a ruthless killer. His eyes will find us there… those eyes that burn!
I felt my chest collapse, my breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. "No," I breathed around the lump that had taken residence in the back of my throat. "No, Christine, you don't understand…"
Christine, don't say that. Don't even think it. Now even the vicomte himself sounded petrified, though not of me; he worried for Christine's sanity.
She finally reached the staircase, and began to run up it, tugging relentlessly on Raoul's hand. If he has to kill a thousand men, the Phantom of the Opera will kill and kill again!
Hot tears stung the backs of my eyes, but I blinked them away furiously. If I could only reach her… only explain… surely she would listen to her friend, her teacher, her angel…
Forget this waking nightmare! This Phantom is a fable, believe me! There is no Phantom of the Opera! Raoul insisted, oblivious to how preposterous his claim was. I suppose he believed the managers' ridiculous story that Buquet had "accidentally" fallen from the rafters, a noose around his neck, and the rope just so happened to break of its own accord… anything to convince himself that another man did not possess the soul of his beloved (which, even in those moments of ensuing chaos and pain, I did).
My God, who is this man? Christine sobbed, her eyes flashing with anger and hurt and betrayal; soon, my own expression came to mirror hers. Who hunts to kill? I can't escape from him; I never will!
My breath hitched in my chest, but I held back my tears. She was confused… simply confused… she needed her angel to comfort and guide her, not the contrary, blubbering rich boy who trailed huffily at her heels.
My God, who is this man? This mask of death? Whose is this voice you hear with every breath? Raoul looked upon Christine with concern etched into his young brow; he did not know what else to do except follow her blindly in a seemingly endless spiral upwards through level after level of the Opera Populaire. He had no business accompanying my student in her time of need, but for my part, I could do nothing but wait; by killing the vicomte, I would only prove Christine's theory, and I could not attempt to console or apologize to her until Raoul left her side. I longed desperately to take the poor child into my arms and sing her to sleep, to rid her of this waking nightmare, as the vicomte had so aptly put it. She deserved to know the truth, and the only thing this boy could do was encourage and stir up her fit of rage and despair.
Their voices melded as Christine led him up one final staircase and out onto the open balcony on the roof of the Opera.
And in this labyrinth, where night is blind,
The Phantom of the Opera is here/there
Inside my/your mind…
I shuddered, my blood coming to a boil in rage. My fists clenched, my eyes rolling back into my head as I repeated silently to myself that under no circumstances was I to kill the vicomte in front of Christine…that she could never love the murder of her childhood friend…
Raoul seemed to suddenly realize what he was singing, and whipped around to face Christine. There is no Phantom of the Opera! He insisted again, more gently this time, realizing that Christine's emotional stability was on the borderline. Meanwhile, I ducked silently up through a hole in the base in one of the statues— a gargoyle, as it were. I trembled in the frigid night air, pressing myself up against the statue as Christine began to sing again.
Raoul, I've been there! To his world of unending night,
To a world where the daylight dissolves into darkness,
Darkness—
Raoul, I've seen him! Can I ever forget that sight?
Can I ever escape from that face, so distorted, deformed,
It was hardly a face in the darkness,
Darkness—
I felt that same wretched, abhorrent face twist in agony, tears streaming down my face and behind my mask, freezing into little rivulets of ice on my cheeks. I leaned heavily against the statue, my legs giving up their strength. I squeezed my eyes shut painfully as the first few snowflakes fluttered lightly down from the heavens that seemed to take endless joy in my suffering.
And then, suddenly, my angel's voice and song changed entirely, reverting back to the loving, adoring tone I had grown to cherish and worship. It was our lullaby… our sweet, gentle lullaby…
But his voice filled my spirit with a strange, sweet sound
In the night there was music in my mind
And through music, my soul began to soar—
Another stream of tears, this time of hope and pure, unconditional love, trickled down my cheek. No matter what she did or said, I was irreversibly in love with Christine Daaé, and that single truth shattered my heart, for I knew in my soul of souls that she could never fully return that love.
And I heard as I've never heard before…
Raoul stepped forward, shaking his head. What you heard was a dream, and nothing more. I shook my head in a combination of sadness and disgust; if Christine had to leave me for another man, she could at least have the decency to choose one who didn't dismiss the past ten years as an extended daydream or stretch of her imagination or an unexplainable series of "accidents."
But Christine brushed past him, dismissing his comment as if he wasn't even present, her eyes trained on my rose.
Yet in his eyes, all the sadness of the world,
Those pleading eyes that both threaten and adore…
I loved her so much my heart physically ached. Had Raoul not interrupted her, had she continued singing, I would have flung myself at her feet and begged for forgiveness, allowed that ignorant fool to drive his blade through my heart so long as Christine promised not to hate me…promised to remember me always as her angel and teacher, not as a murder…
But Raoul did interrupt, in a painful twist of fate that I would never forget.
Christine, Christine… He sang gently, walking slowly towards her as if approaching a spooked horse.
Christine, I echoed, my voice trembling, in a half-whisper. At the sound of my voice, her eyes suddenly widened in terror. Her breath came in visibly hitched gasps as her gaze roamed the rooftop restlessly, searching in vain for any sign of me. Was she truly that naïve, after all these years, to believe that she could escape my all-seeing, all-hearing senses within this Opera House? Even on the roof, I prided myself in knowing the goings-on of the Opera Populaire, especially when they involved Christine.
I seethed inwardly as Raoul moved to stand directly behind her, wrapping his filthy arms around her slender shoulders. Christine did not, however, melt into his embrace; she still glanced feverishly into the shadows, searching for any physical sign of my presence. Hoping to divert her attention back to himself, Raoul took her by the hands and led her in a wide, gentle arc across the rooftop to prove that he was not afraid of darkness nor the monster that supposedly inhabited it. I altered my position around the gargoyle to make sure no matter what their angle, they wouldn't spot me.
Suddenly, my rose slipped from Christine's loosening grasp. She did not look back as it fluttered to the ground, its red petals starkly resembling pools of crimson blood against the white snow.
And as if this nightmare needed to be worsened, it suddenly was. Raoul began to serenade her, in a sickeningly sweet, pretty-boy voice to match his looks.
No more talk of darkness,
Forget these wide-eyed fears!
I'm here; nothing can harm you.
My words will warm and calm you.
I shuddered. He was putting thoughts into her head again; who ever said anything about anyone harming her? And the only one who should have been warming and calming sweet, terrified little Christine Daaé was me, her teacher and her angel!
Let me be your freedom,
Let daylight dry your tears!
I'm here, with you, beside you,
To guard you and to guide you.
I shook my head, squeezing my eyes firmly shut. She wouldn't buy into it; she couldn't! She knew better… knew I would never hurt her…
Apparently, my confidence in her trust was overzealous. In a moment that shattered the remains of my already broken soul, she responded with her own angelic voice, her betrayal complete.
Say you love me every waking moment,
Turn my head with talk of summertime;
Say you need me with you now and always,
Promise me that all you say is true—
That's all I ask of you
I could not stop the onslaught of tears that caught in my chest and throat. I doubled over in pain; I wanted to leave that God-forsaken rooftop, slink back into the sacred depths of my lair, alone, away from this sickening display… but it was true what they said: whenever Christine Daaé sang, the Angel of Music was sure to be there, listening. And listen I would, no matter how much it tormented me to do so.
Raoul enveloped her in his embrace, singing into her hair. I closed my eyes, recalling the heavenly scent of those chestnut tresses… the unique smell of rosebuds and sunshine and soap that I loved so dearly…
Let me be your shelter;
Let me be your light!
You're safe, no one will find you
Your fears are far behind you
Christine pulled gently out of his arms, walking slowly away from him, her eyes glazed over in painful memories. I could almost see into her mind, pictures of my horrendous face, of me screaming at her, cursing her… of Joseph Buquet, dangling like a worm on a hook while her beautiful eyes went wide in horror…
"Oh, what have I done?" I breathed, burying my head in my hands.
All I want is freedom,
A world with no more night,
And you, always beside me,
To hold me and to hide me!
I was sure, in that moment, I would collapse to the snow-dusted ground, writhing in pain, taking my last precious gasps of air before departing this wretched world forever.
"Christine," I begged hoarsely, but she could not hear, and she was too far lost in the charming glint of the vicomte's eyes to pay me any heed even if she could.
Then say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime,
Let me lead you from your solitude
Say you need me with you, here, beside you,
Anywhere you go let me go, too,
Christine, that's all I ask of you!
He held her lightly from behind, his cheek resting against hers. The position was so painfully familiar; I remembered vividly the night she had so willingly fallen into my own embrace as we shared a different love song… remembered the way her body fit so perfectly against mine as I introduced her gently to the music of the night…
That night seemed an eternity ago as I gazed longingly upon the happy couple.
Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime
Say the word and I will follow you…
The two sang together, their voices melding as ours once had…
Share each day with me,
Each night, each morning…
Christine glanced down at their hands, which were entwined gently in front of them.
Say you love me…
You know I do, Raoul replied gently.
"Christine," I sobbed one last time, but the cold, unforgiving winter wind carried my whispered plea far from her impervious ears.
Love me, that's all I ask of you!
I turned my head away, unable to look as she brought her lips up to meet his. Shuddering sobs racked my weak, trembling form, cold and alone, as the love of my life offered her mind, heart, body, and life to another man. I looked instead at the rose which she had carelessly discarded in the snow, mesmerized by all it represented.
After an eternity, Christine broke the kiss, and I dared to look up at her as her voice melded with Raoul's one last time.
Anywhere you go, let me go too!
Love me, that's all I ask of you.
I could not tear my eyes away as they kissed for a second time. Each subtle movement of her perfect lips was a dagger of ice, heaved into my heart and twisted for good measure. I clutched to the statue for fear of collapse as Christine broke the kiss again, glancing quickly back at the Opera House.
I must go— they'll wonder where I am.
Come with me, Raoul.
He followed her a few steps toward the building, his face set in a content smile. Christine, I love you, he sang gently. Christine smiled, moving in for another kiss, thankfully briefer than the previous two. She took his hand, leading him quickly into the Opera.
Order your fine horses,
Be with them at the door!
Raoul beamed at her, following at her heels. And soon, you'll be beside me…
You'll guard me and you'll guide me! Christine's voice finished adoringly before the two lovers disappeared from my sight.
I waited breathlessly for a few moments until I was sure they were truly gone, then stepped out into the open moonlight. I approached the spot where her rose had fallen, and suddenly my legs gave out from underneath me; collapsing to my knees, I began to sob, holding the smooth velvet petals to my lips.
I gave you my music,
Made your song take wing,
And now, how you've repaid me,
Denied me and betrayed me!
He was bound to love you
When he heard you sing,
Christine…
My lips would no longer form the words; my heart could no longer stand the pain. I doubled over, clutching the rose as if it would save my fallen soul. Echoes of that fateful love song plagued my broken mind, and I could do nothing but listen and sob out my pain uncontrollably.
Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime,
Say the word and I will follow you.
Share each day with me, each night, each morning…
Suddenly my entire body began to tremble violently… not with tears, but unbridled fury.
How dare he try and take Christine from me? ME, the infamous Phantom of the Opera? That loathsome little… fop ((A/N: -sobs- I'm sorry, Raoul! I didn't mean it!) would not have the last laugh if my life depended on it!
No, I would win Christine back. My music…my opera… surely she would return to her Angel if he had the proper materials with which to fight that damned pretty-boy vicomte…
I crushed the rose between my gloved fingertips, watching as the petals crumpled and fell to the ground. Then, suddenly, I lurched to my feet, racing over to the statue on the very farthest corner of the rooftop, overlooking all of Paris. My voice swelled with power, my cloak whipping madly in the wind behind me, as I cried out defiantly to the heavens and earth:
You will curse the day you did not do
All that the Phantom asked of you!
A/N: -peeks in, waving meekly- Please don't throw objects at me! Read the disclaimers! I'm not responsible for Erik's suffering, the poor baby! Blame Gaston! Blame Andy! –points fingers accusingly- Have I mentioned lately that I love you guys? –smiles-
Venus725: -sigh- Yeah, sorry about that. I don't like to see him suffer either… Glad you liked my last chappies, though:) Thanks for the well-wishes, too! Hot and heavy E/C romance on its way, though; be happy! Rating's going up! Woot woot!
Inkie pinkie: Funny is good! I like being funny. :) LOL…glad you liked the lyrics. They were just a fun little spur of the moment thing, but maybe I'll do it again sometime.
Sakume: Ooh! Can it be an Erik plushie stuffed animal? I've always wanted one! Parents… meh! Who needs em? I sympathize; mine can be a pain, too. –note to self- Do a review song again!
Peggy-Kun: I swear, I'm going to make a happy "I got a new reviewer" dance! Yes, that was one of my favorite chappies… I love doing humor when I can. LOL! And the "bullfrog in matin' season" was another spur of the moment ideas, and it wound up being the tagline type thing for that chappie. Who'da thunk?
Sorry I didn't leave much of a gap for review time— I figured you guys would rather have an update or two. Go back and review later, please:)