b A/N: HIIIII! Hee hee hee...thank you to I Kill Stupid Fops for the best review in the world...gives u plushies You all hate me, I know, so here is your reward for the lovely reviews! HINT: check out the title. It will a) confuse the hell out of you, b) make you say wtf, or c) give away the ending...shuts up and smiles R&R! /b
Chapter 15—The Corset
i "Here the sire may serve the dam…here the mistress takes her meat…
Here the sacrificial lamb…utters one despairing bleat…" /i
Christine laid her head on her knees as she sang to herself quietly. She felt like a complete and total failure. She had been chained to the cement wall of the daroga's deepest cellar—a dungeon. She couldn't believe her old rescuer had deceived her so. Her song changed.
i "Curse you, you little lying betrayer, you little viper!
Now you cannot ever be free!
Damn you…curse you…" /i
"Damn this heart that beats!" she cursed herself quietly. "Why, God, do you make i him /i suffer?" She looked over to where she could see Erik, still unconscious, on the other side of the dungeons. "Take my life, but let him go!" She jerked her head back so it hit the wall with a sharp pain.
i "Masquerade! Paper faces on parade! Masquerade!
Hide your face, so the world will never find you!" /i
"Christine?"
His voice was faint, but it gave her hope. "I am here, Erik!" His face turned toward her, and she saw a black bruise around one of his eyes, but he was alive.
"Christine, he betrayed us."
"I know," she said, close to tears. "I know he did."
"Please, love…don't kill him."
She blinked, startled. He knew her innermost emotions better than she did. "Why? Tell me why."
"You're already a murderer, Christine."
"It is rather difficult to be called a murderer if one does not kill a man now and again."
"Shut up."
Had that sharp, biting voice been Erik's? She had seen his mouth move, but it sounded so unlike him. Her mouth opened slightly, and he said again, "Shut up."
"Why?"
"Because," he said in the same tone, "you are always making jokes about matters like that. You laugh when the police are after you. If given the chance, I don't doubt that you would insult someone who had a gun at your throat. Why do you take things so lightly? What is there that is important to you?"
There was a slight pause of shock before she said, "Our love, Erik."
His look hardly changed. "Then why do you upset me with such things?"
"Because you never asked me to stop. If it bothers you, I shall not make my morbid jokes anymore. I would do anything to keep you loving me." She meant it with all her heart, and he knew it. He trusted Christine's word—she had only lied to him once, after all, about being an angel, and he could forgive her. The look she was giving him now told him that what she was saying was true. He nodded, and she spoke again.
"I've simply never expressed myself like other people, my love. I have crude humor—it is true. I feel that it can help. But I will restrain myself around you, unless absolutely necessary. I'm sorry."
His hand went out toward her in forgiveness, but the clanking manacles stopped him. She watched this and bit her lip, thinking.
"Any ideas, trap-door lover?" he asked listlessly.
She rested her head back on the stone, her breathing restricted by her position and her corset… i the corset! /i
Erik saw a sudden gleam in Christine's eyes as she sat up straight and reached around behind her. He watched her straining against the chains, and wondered what in the hell she thought she was doing. In a few minutes, she reached inside her dress and pulled out her corset. Now he was i very /i confused.
"What the…?"
"Watch!" With a strong movement, she tore one of the seams and extracted a wire. She twisted it into a sufficient shape and began to pick the locks that encased her.
"You bloody genius!" he breathed. Who would have thought?
"There's always something," she replied as the last manacle dropped to the floor. She swiftly freed Erik, and he seized her into a passionate, grateful kiss. She pulled away after only a moment.
"There is no time! We must escape!"
"What about Madame Giry?"
"I know! We have to find her, then get out of here!"
"So let's go!"
With the aid of her corset wire, the two made their way through each of the cellars. They found the woozy, but awake, woman in one of them, then proceeded to search for a way out.
The daroga, never figuring that he would have a genius imprisoned in his dungeons, had left one secret passage, just in case. Christine, of course, found it, and it led directly to the stables. Madame Giry's driver was asleep, but they soon roused him, and fled desperately.
k
The Vicomtess slammed her fist down on the table. They had escaped her yet again! Damnation! She heaved an exasperated sigh. There was one last plan, but she hated it. This meant she would have to face that whore herself. She hated the thought of getting such dirt on her hands, and wondered if the reward was even worth it.
She decided she'd try this one last time. If she lost them yet again, she would go off and move somewhere far away to forget the whole thing. If she succeeded in taking Erik back, then she would make sure the Phantom suffered before she was killed. If Meg herself died…enough said. The bitch and her slave would walk off into the sunset together, and Meg's remains would rot alone.
She didn't care so much about Madame Giry anymore. She could be used, at best, against her will, to attract the Opera Ghost's attention. Meg didn't need that—she had spies following them, and would soon know where to meet them with her blade drawn.
"Little Erik thought of everything and nothing. His mother promised him she would send him the Angel of Music." She laughed dryly. He had gotten his wish. Now all she had to do was take his Angel away.
