This would have been posted this mornin, but I'm having trouble uploading...anyone else experiencing this?
Hope you guys like this one...
-Nico
The bowels of the Opera Populaire were just that…stinking, dirty, narrow passageways slicked in the grime and muck fitting of an underworld labyrinth.
Christine Daae had been lucky enough to live a live of moderate luxury...
A life that did not include traipsing around dangerous territory in the middle of the night.
But although she heard (and felt once or twice) the scurry of rats near her feet, she pressed on, the image of Erik desperately begging for her to meet him etched in her memory.
What she was doing was positively scandalous, that much she knew. Not once during her three year courtship with Raoul did she meet with him much past sundown...
let along sneak out of her modest bedroom in Madame Giry's house to meet him in the middle of the night.
Yet, Erik need only ask…with those pleading eyes and that desperate tone…and here she was.
She muttered a curse as her gown caught on a particularly jutting piece of stone, ripping the thin fabric up to her hip, nearly causing her to fall onto the damp stones. Her right handtightened aroundthe torch she held…her only source of light as she tried to remember a familiar turn or crook in the wall.
Her shoes were discarded after a second stumble. Next came her white stockings as they became heavy with the puddles she walked through.
Damn modestly, she told herself mentally. She had already tarnished it by agreeing to this venture in the first place.
Finally, she caught the sound of water lapping lightly at a shore.
The lake.
She rounded one final corner and stopped in her tracks.
He was already there.
ONE HOUR EARLIER
Erik paced the floor of the chapel, running his hands through his hair with occasional anxiousness.
After fifteen minutes like this, the person…or rather the spirit...he was waiting for finally materialized.
"You're treading on dangerous waters, Erik," Charles said.
"Hello Charles," Erik replied coolly, even though inwardly he was relieved to see the man.
"Why are you risking not only Christine's reputation but her life by asking her to meet you here?" Charles demanded. Until now, he had not seen the man agitated.
"She will be careful," Erik assured the frazzled entity.
"Regardless, these midnight meeting must cease, immediately," Charles said. "I will not have my only child parading the streets at night like some common…"
"I intend to reveal my intentions to Christine tonight," Erik interrupted.
Charles raised an eyebrow. "And what intentions might there be, Erik?"
"I intend for her to leave this place at once," Erik replied, straightening his fashionable collar. "With me."
Charles laughed sardonically. "And you are certain it will be that easy, are you?"
Erik stared back at the man. "If it isn't, I plan to fight for her until I win."
"You haven't yet begun to fight, Erik," Charles said tiredly.
"I have been doing nothing but fighting my entire life!" Erik suddenly roared, his voice painfully bouncing off the chapel walls. "Besides the rare moment I find myself in your daughter's arms, I have known nothing but struggle. Nothing but hatred and contempt! And for years, Charles, I thought that the unhappiness I experienced was the direct result of my face…but no…that was only a small fraction of the problem…because without Christine…scars or no…I am disconsolate."
He took a deep breath, the effort of his emotion leaving him reddened and sweaty.
"You of all people know this, Charles," he continued. "Because if you didn't, you wouldn't have offered me a second chance."
Charles stood speechless, his vapid eyes swirling with the semblance of tears.
Then he moved closer to Erik. "You won't give up until you have her, will you?"
Erik shook his head. "No," he replied simply. "I won't."
Charles smiled. "Then go to her Erik," he said, a bit sadly. "Go and fight for her."
Erik remained silent for a moment, watching the ghostly figure as it turned to leave.
"It isn'tgoing to be easy, is it Charles?" He asked. The spirit turned, his eyes dark but his lips smiling.
"No," he replied. "Although at first it might seem so."
"I don't suppose you could give me a little more detail here," Erik asked.
Charles shook his head. "I've said too much as it is."
Erik nodded and watched as the swirling mist before him evaporated.
Then, without further hesitation, and with the blessing of Christine's father, he headed towards the lake.
"Have you been waiting long?"
Christine's bell-like voice made Erik turn around sharply.
Her breath caught in her throat as she caught sight of him. Dressed entirely in black, he appeared imposing…impossibly strong…and slightly frightening.
How a man who possessed such unbridled power could create such delicate music was beyond her.
"No," Erik replied. "I only arrived moments ago."
Christine stayed at the entrance of the lake, knowing that the more distance she placed between she and Erik, the more she would remain in control of the situation.
Something about being close to him…about touching him…destroyed her sensibility.
Erik noted her tattered skirt and the absence of stockings…the fact that her hair had escaped the confines of proper conformity and was not tumbling down her back in torrential curls…all indicating that her trip underground had been challenging...and she had no doubt encountered many an opportunity to turn around.
Yet she had come.
"What's all this about, Erik," she asked suddenly, interrupting his thoughts. "You're effectively ruining my reputation."
Erik lowered his eyes in a hidden smirk, marveling for a moment how alike father and daughter really were.
He raised his gaze back to her. "There are things in this life that are meant to happen, Christine," he said cryptically, stepping closer to her. "Events we experience...grief we suffer…happiness we celebrate," he stopped about six feet from her, "people we meet."
He moved again, this time only halting when moving forward would have meant knocking Christine over.
From here, he could see her frantic breath coming in tight inhales and short exhales. He could see the flush of her cheeks that was brought on merely by his presence. He noted the way she subconsciously licked her lips, preparing herself fora kiss she wasn'tcertain would come.
Gently, he placed a finger under her chin, "I was meant to come into your life, Christine," he whispered. "You were meant to be in mine."
Christine's eyes shimmered with the inevitable tear.
Erik smoothed her hair from her forehead, taking time to caress each cheek. "I do not want to be your teacher," he said, causing her brow to furrow. "Nor do I wish to be patron of that ridiculous Opera House." Then quietly, he added, "Nor do I wish to be married to Athena."
Christine hitched on a sob.
"I would sacrifice my world," Erik continued. "I would give it all up and then do it all over again," he placed his hands on either side of her face, "all for you."
Christine placed her own hands over his. "What are you saying, Erik?" She managed, now fully crying. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying I love you," he said, stubborn tears forming in his own eyes. "I love you and need you…with only me…forever."
Christine closed her eyes in equal parts elation and depression. "You're married," she sobbed. "You're married…and Raoul! I'm engaged to Raoul!"
"Then run away with me," Erik replied intensely. "Tonight…leave with me tonight!"
Christine pulled his hands from her and turned her back to him. "I…I can't," she stammered. "I can't."
Erik ran his hands through his hair and then moved behind her, placing his strong hands on her shoulders. "Do you love me, Christine?" He whispered into her ear. When she didn't immediately answer, he repeated the question.
"Do you love me?"
Christine allowed herself to be turned around by him. She lifted her eyes to see his face, which was creased in desperation.
She took a deep breath.
"Yes," she shuddered. "With all my heart."
Erik moved to embrace her, to kiss her in pure jubilation.
He was stopped by Christine's hand. "I love you," she repeated, "but I cannot leave with you."
Erik's face fell. "Why?"
Christine inhaled deeply, a rasping, sobbing breath. "Because Erik," she said. "Think of the terriblescandal! And it wouldn't just be our own names sullied! Think of everyone involved! Even the Opera itself stands to suffer!"
"Damn the scandal!" Erik roared. "Damn Athena, damn Raoul…damn everything! It doesn't matter…nothing matters except for this!"
With that, he crushed her into his arms, kissing her feverishly, reveling in the enthusiasm with which his affection was returned.
When he pulled away, Christine's eyes had glazed over with longing and sadness. "Give me one night," she said quietly. "One night to think."
Erik moved away, leaving her cold, suddenly feeling extremely uncomfortable. He had honestly expected her to leave with him, even with Charles' warnings.
He nodded, the lump in his throat making it difficult to speak. "If you decide to come with me, meet me at the chapel tomorrow after supper," he said, sounding uncomfortably formal.
And then, slightly dejected, he turned down a previously unseen passageway, leaving Christine to crumple under the weight of her choice.