A/N: Oookaaay, here you go. You will hate me, I guarentee it. But I hate you, for not reviewing. That would be one reason why this is so late in coming. If you want the other, go look at "All The World".
POLL: Which do you guys want first, a prequal or sequal? I have both partially written, and I want to know which you want, future or past? It's mostly...actually, so far it's all Christine's past, but if you REVIEW then I will put little Erik in it as well...and so far the tally is all for a prequal.
Chapter 16—Give Me The Strength To Try
Taking no chances, the three travelers had disguised themselves again and taken a different route. Because of their evasive trail, it took them nearly twice as long to get back to France. In Perros, where they stopped to get supplies, Christine urged Mame Giry to go on without them. She expressed her gratefulness to the woman, and eventually convinced her that it was for the best. She and Erik took a room in a lowly inn for a night, to rest properly and recover from the long, hard journey. She despaired, because their belongings had been left at the daroga's house, but Erik comforted her.
"At least we still have each other," he told her.
They lay in bed, and it was late. Christine needed to sleep, she knew, but she kept awakening, tense. Finally, Erik held her close and sang to her.
"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."
He felt her relax and her breathing become even. He kissed her gently, stroking her back. He had his own thoughts to be preoccupied with, however, and slept only fitfully. Finally, around dawn, they both awoke, still tired.
"I can't sleep like this anymore," he breathed to her.
"I cannot either," she replied, shaking her head.
"Christine?" Erik said tentatively. She looked up at him mildly and he continued, "Today marks the anniversary of my mother's death. She was buried here, in Perros."
"Would you like to go see her?"
"Yes. You'll come?"
"Of course." She kissed him lovingly before she rose from the bed. "Let's go now," she said, "right away."
It seemed not long at all before they were exiting their borrowed carriage and walking through the gates of the mausoleum. Erik's hand in Christine's trembled, and she put her other hand on his arm comfortingly.
"In sleep she sang to me, in dreams she came,
That voice which calls to me, and speaks my name…"
She could hear the sadness in his song. Somehow she didn't think he was singing of her anymore. She walked silently at his side and listened to his soft voice.
"Little Erik thought of everything and nothing.
His mother promised him she would send him the Angel of Music.
His mother promised him…his mother promised him…
You were once my one companion, you were all that mattered.
You were once a friend and mother, then my world was shattered.
Wishing you were somehow here again—wishing you were somehow near.
Sometimes it seemed, if I just dreamed, somehow you would be here!
Wishing I could hear your voice again, knowing that I never would.
Dreaming of you won't help me to do all that you dreamed I could!
Passing bells and sculpted angels, cold and monumental,
Seem, for you, the wrong companions—you were warm and gentle."
Erik had told Christine much of his mother. She felt that she had known her as well. Now, she could hear his voice weakening with his tears, and joined in, supporting him, encouraging him.
"Too many years, fighting back tears! Why can't the past just die?
Wishing you were somehow here again, knowing we must say goodbye.
Try to forgive, teach me to live, give me the strength to try!
No more memories, no more silent tears!
No more gazing across the wasted years!"
She faded out for the last, dying lines of the song as they reached the tomb that was emblazoned, "DAAÉ."
"Help me say goodbye…
Help me say goodbye…"
Christine stood next to Erik on the cold stone steps of the tomb, staying as near to him as she could. His shoulders shook, and she felt a tear making a trail through the makeup on her cheek. She could not pray—she did not believe in prayer—but she sent her respectful requiem silently to the spirit of Madame Daaé. When her love's legs gave out and he collapsed to the ground in emotion, she was there to catch him and hold him until he slowly stopped shaking enough to stand again. He gazed up at his mother's sepulcher, leaning heavily on Christine's shoulder. Neither of them spoke or moved—the cemetery was silent. Then, a sudden, powerful, murderous voice filled the air.
"Beneath the Opera House, I know she's there!
She hides above the stage—she's everywhere!
And when my suitor's gone, I always find,
The Phantom of the Opera is now his mastermind!"
Erik was instantly alert and afraid. He knew that voice…he knew what it wanted. Christine did as well. She tugged on his hand.
"Erik, we have to get out of here!"
Oooh...you all hate me now! I love cliffys...go ahead, flame me, Punjab me, do whatever. As long as I get my reviews.
