Chapter Eighteen

Wounded Nightingale

Christine stared out of the window at the dark sky as she laid in Erik's arms. She could hear his even breathing behind her and it gave her peace to know he was sleeping so soundly because she was with him. Earlier, when he had come to her to make love, it had been a moment she knew she was not going to forget for as long as she lived.

When she had first come here she had feared him as the Phantom who had made life miserable at the opera. She would never have imagined that she would come to love him this much. It almost did not seem natural. How could anything this strong be natural?

She believed that now she knew how much he loved her all this time because she felt the same. Growing up as a child she had always imagined that she would be married to a man like Raoul, handsome and charming. Well her husband was completely opposite of that and yet she loved him more then she could have ever loved Raoul.

But perhaps she had known that she would always belong to Erik in some way. She had loved her Angel of Music with all her heart and had always imagined him as a real man. Well now she had a living breathing Angel and she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.

With a trembling hand she laid her palm against her stomach. Perhaps in time she would become pregnant with his child. Imagining a baby with dark hair and beautiful eyes Christine smiled. He would be brilliant, just like his father. And he would have an appreciation for music from a young age. She smiled at the idea of the infamous Phantom of the Opera a father.

She had a feeling he would be a good father. When he loved something he loved it completely and without reservation, that was one of many reasons why she loved him so much. But she got ahead of herself, first she would have to get pregnant before she thought about Erik as a father.

She turned in his arms so their faces were mere inches apart and she could feel his breath on her face. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to drift into sleep.

xXx

Erik, even in sleep, pulled Christine closer to him. It had become natural to have her in his arms, because now that she was there he could not bear the thought of losing her. She was the only thing keeping him from the constant madness that seemed to be so much apart of him. Her acceptance of him had truly made him a man. And for the first time in his life he felt like one.

"I love you, Christine," he whispered into the darkness.

xXx

Christine screamed. The sound echoed in the silent room and Erik's eyes opened to stare in absolute horror as Christine clutched the dagger that was protruding from her chest. For as long as Erik lived he would never forget the sight of all that blood on Christine's perfect body. His eyes snapped to the woman standing above his wife.

"Anita!" he growled. She backed away, making a dash for the door. Erik was off the bed faster then she could blink. He wrapped his arms around her neck in a grip that stopped the air in her throat.

"Why? Why?" he demanded her, shaking her roughly by the neck. Her eyes began rolling back in her head and he loosened his grip enough for her to draw breath and answer him. He could hear Christine whimpering behind him and knew he had to get to her soon.

"S-she m-m-means everything to you!" she spat. Erik felt his finger nails digging into the tender skin of her neck, drawing blood.

"And you would kill her because of that!" he screamed.

"You killed my brother!" she gasped. Erik's eyes rounded slightly in surprise.

"Your brother?" he demanded.

"Joseph Bouquet," she said, right before Erik's hands took her last breath. He dropped her to the floor, staring down at her in disbelief. Her brother had been that drunkard he had killed in the rafters?

"E-Erik!" Christine whispered. Erik was shaken from his thoughts from Christine's plea. He ran to her. The blade was lodged deeply into her right shoulder and she had already lost a sufficient amount of blood. She was trying to remove the blade and her tears ran freely down her cheeks.

"No, mon amour! You must not do that, you will only hurt yourself!" he said.

"I-it hurts...Erik," she whispered, her eyes fluttering as she began to slip into unconciousness.

"No! Christine, stay with me, please!" Erik said. Bracing his hand on her left shoulder he firmly grasped the hilt of the dagger and pulled. Christine's scream was blood curdling before everything became deathly quiet.

A/N: I know it was a short chapter but better an update then none at all. I hope you guys enjoy it none the less, sorry once more. DonJuan