Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom of the Opera or Wicked.
Remember: Keep your hand at the level of your eyes, and nothing matters but knowing nothing matters.
Chapter III: Atheistic Existentialism
Erik had given Elphie the Louis-Philippe room to sleep in, but she was too restless to do anything of the sort. She paced back and forth so much that by the time she looked at the clock it was nearly midnight. Curious and inquisitive as always, Elphie decided to peek in on Erik.
She pressed a finger lightly to his closed door, bracing herself for the customary creak. However, the door swung silently open and she was able to slip inside without a sound. Unlike the Louis-Philippe room, lit with candles, Erik's room was pitch black. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, and her first instinct was that she was in the wrong room. The organ had been built into the wall, and his violin lay on a chaise lounge near the door. Elphaba saw no bed of any sort.
There was, however, a seven-foot-long box in the center of the room. She wondered if this was simply a music or storage room; she didn't remember the box from when they were in here earlier.
She edged closer to it, wondering what could be inside. It wasn't very ornate, except for a silver border. Elphie deftly slid her fingers along the edges, trying to find a way to open it. Her fingernails found a seam and she wrenched the obsidian lid open.
What Elphie saw threw her into utter shock. Snug against a blood red satin lining was Erik's body.
Elphie didn't know how long she stood simply staring down. Finally her brain roused itself enough to check his pulse, but she still didn't want to move. Had he died in the night? And how did the coffin get here?
"Erik?" she whispered. "Erik, are you… dead?"
He didn't move.
Elphie looked his body over. If he was breathing, it definitely wasn't showing. She steeled herself to take his wrist and check for a pulse, knowing it would be cold whether he was dead or not.
Just as she grasped his hand, however, his eyes snapped open.
They glowed amber in the darkness, and she gasped, backing away.
He seemed to rise up out of the coffin like some undead spirit, coming toward her with an eerie slowness.
Elphie raised a hand against him, beginning a spell that lapsed into English.
"—the will of God will smite you—"
Erik reached out and covered her mouth with a smirk.
"Sorry dear," he breathed, "I'm an atheist."
Elphie screamed and bit down against his hand.
Erik spun away from her with a curse, snatched the mask, and turned back around.
She stood watching him in incredulous terror.
"You're alive?"
"Merde. I was hoping to be dead by now."
"I thought… the coffin… and you weren't breathing. How?"
He glanced back at it. "I know it's morbid, but that's what I always sleep in. And when I sleep, I barely breathe at all."
Elphie nodded as he turned to face her. "What were you doing in here?"
She shrugged. "I couldn't sleep."
They walked down to sit by the lake.
"So… what made you become an atheist?" Elphaba asked. "Or were you born that way too?"
Erik shook his head. "I was raised Catholic as a child, but I eventually realized there couldn't be a God in this world. If there is a God, why has he made me a genius, but driven people away so I have no way to show them? Why has he given me the greatest voice, but no one to sing to? Why has he given me hands that can build anything, but no one to hire me? When I was a child, I could sketch so many different types of buildings, bridges, anything, and have them labeled in seconds. I designed and built this opera house, years ago."
Elphie smiled. "Well, you sang to Christine, you sing to me. Your sketches of her are all over the walls. And you said you built this opera. I think that covers everything. What are you still looking for?"
He stared at her, hating the optimism in her eyes. "We've had this conversation before, and you're getting the same answer. I will not stop looking until I find Christine."
She met his cool gaze. "Determination. Always a good thing."
He raised an eyebrow. "What are you, then?"
Elphie shrugged. "My father was a minister, always preaching about the Unnamed God. I'm not sure what religion that translates into here. Anyway, I dropped out of it when I heard Fiyero had died. I didn't see any need for it if the one man I loved was gone."
Erik nodded, understanding. "So we're the same, in that respect. I've been driven further and further from God without Christine."
Elphie yawned. "As engaging as this conversation is, I think I'll be able to go to sleep now."
Erik chuckled. "You may. I usually stay awake for weeks at a time, and those few hours before you woke me up were all I needed."
Elphie shivered, gazing out at the lake. "How do you stay awake when it's so cold out here?"
He shrugged. "I don't question that part of myself."
She laughed. "Do you question any part of yourself?"
"Not really."
"Good night then."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
A/N: I loved writing the beginning of this chapter – Erik rising up out of the coffin. Dracula 2000-esque. If you haven't seen it, do! I used the part when he comes up out of the water behind the news reporter. SQUEE
And the title comes from a line in Godspell (our school musical this year), from a guy named Jean-Paul Sartre. Love it!
You guys know the drill: Drop a review me happy more updates.
Phantomfreak07
