Chapter 4—Those Eyes That Burn

"Poor fool,s he makes me laugh!

Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!"

Christine grimaced at Piangi's voice. He was cast in her student's role, of course, and she stood on the ledge reserved for those in charge of the lighting of the big chandelier. She had to put a stop to this, now, or it would completely sicken her.

"Did I not instruct that Box Five was to be kept empty? Did I not tell you to cast Monsieur Daaé in the role of the Prince?"

At the sound of her voice, everyone in the theatre turned to stare up at her black form, so visible against the white of the ceiling. She disappeared through the door that was behind her, and heard frantic shouts and the orchestra trying to start again. She dashed through another secret passage, Punjab lasso ready in her hand. As she reached the area above the stage, Joseph Buquet turned the corner just ahead of her. He caught sight of Christine and opened his mouth to yell, but the rope darted like a snake out of her hand, cutting off his air.

Tying the other end to a wooden beam, she pushed him off the edge so he dangled in the midst of those onstage. There were fresh screams, and Christine waited a moment before cutting the rope and letting the dead bastard fall. Erik saw her, and she saw him, staring up at her fearfully. Amidst the chaos onstage, the Vicomtess Meg deChagny made her way to him. Christine hid in the shadows, following their every movement with her eyes.

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"Meg, we're not safe here!" Erik began to pull the Vicomtess through the myriad of people, running to get away from the Phantom's eyes.

"Erik, where are we going?"

"She'll kill you!"

Their voices overlapped each other, desperately, as they climbed the stairs, higher and higher, running away.

"Her eyes will find us there…"

"Erik, don't say that!"

"Those eyes that burn…"

"Don't even think it!"

"And if she has to kill a thousand men…"

"Forget this waking nightmare!"

"The Phantom of the Opera will kill and kill again!"

Christine followed them, dodging through the House, melting into shadows as though she were one of them.

"This Phantom is a fable," Meg said to Erik. "Believe me, there is no Phantom of the Opera!"

"My God, who is this one…"

"My God, who is this one?"

"…who hunts to kill?"

"This mask of death!"

"I can't escape from her—"

"Whose is this voice you hear?"

"I never will!"

"With every breath…"

Erik couldn't stop running. His voice combined with Meg's as he pulled her, higher and higher, to the very roof of the Opera.

"And in this labyrinth where night is blind,

The Phantom of the Opera is here, inside my/your mind!"

"There is no Phantom of the Opera!"

They emerged into the cold. Christine was but a few yards behind them, but Erik moved swiftly to the edge of the roof, trembling, and Meg's attention was on him entirely. Christine moved swiftly to the statue of Apollo's Lyre and hid behind it, watching the two of them in isolated disbelief.

"Meg, I've been there, to her world of unending night,

To a world where the daylight dissolves into darkness, darkness…

Meg, I've seen her! Can I ever forget that sight?

Can I ever escape from that face? So distorted, deformed,

It was hardly a face, in that darkness, darkness…

But her voice filled my spirit with a strange, sweet sound!

In that night, there was music in my mind!

And through music, my soul began to soar…

And I heard as I've never heard before!"

Christine could hardly believe what she had heard. She knew there was utter terror in his voice, but his words encased a validity that she hardly dared think of. Meg stood next to the young man, her hands on his arms.

"What you heard was a dream, and nothing more!"

Erik shivered. He knew that it had not been a dream, but he couldn't tell Meg, somehow. The words would not come. He still felt the Phantom's eyes on him, although he did not know exactly how close she was.

"Yet in her eyes, all the sadness of the world

Those pleading eyes that both threatened and adored…"

Meg turned him gently to face her, and pulled him into her. Christine watched in complete desperation as the two embraced, Meg calling softly.

"Erik...Erik..."

"Erik..."

Christine swiftly brought a hand to her mouth as she ducked behind the statue. She hadn't meant to echo Meg aloud, but her voice had different ideas. She crouched out of sight, and continued listening, saddened beyond her own belief.

"No more talk of darkness. Forget these wide-eyed fears!

I'm here—nothing can harm you. My words will warm and calm you.

Let me be your freedom! Let daylight dry your tears.

I'm here, with you, beside you to guard you and to guide you!"

Christine had to look now, as her Angel answered the woman. She could do no more than watch—she really didn't want to. She knew what was coming.

"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!"

"Let me be your freedom, let me be your light!

You're safe—no one will find you. Your fears are far behind you!"

"All I want is freedom, a world with no more night,

And you, always beside me, to hold me and to hide me!"

"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!

Erik, that's all I ask of you!"

They were much too close to each other. A tear caught on Christine's eyelash and froze in the chill night air. Erik sang almost eagerly.

"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime!

Say the word and I will follow you."

And their voices combined, strong and young.

"Share each day with me,

Each night, each morning!"

"Say you love me!"

"You know I do!"

Meg tilted her head upward toward the singer who now held her so tightly, so lovingly. She could hardly believe that, a moment ago, he had been terrified of an invisible pair of burning eyes.

"Love me! That's all I ask of you!"

Christine turned away as they kissed. She was heartbroken. She could bear to watch nothing else. She silently wept, letting her cloak fall away from her bare arms, sinking to her knees on the snow-covered rooftop. She felt no physical cold. It was all inside her, every bit, and nothing could ever warm her now.

"Anywhere you go, let me go too!

Love me, that's all I ask of you!"

She never noticed exactly when they left. All she knew was that suddenly she was alone on the rooftop. She ventured out into the open, and saw, lying there, abandoned in the snow, her rose. She knelt again and picked it up.

"I gave you my music, made your song take wing,

And now, how you've repaid me—denied me and betrayed me!

She was bound to love you when she heard you sing!

Erik!"

From the street below, their united voices floated up to her.

"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!"

Christine had subconsciously crushed the rose in her gloved fingers. Her breaths were short, quick, and angry. She stood swiftly and scaled Apollo's Lyre in a mere second. She let her voice carry to the very sky above.

"You will curse the day you did not do

All that the Phantom asked of you!"