A/N: Thank you so much for the lovely reviews, and I'll thank L2C, and Apolloslyre..(I just know I spelled that wrong) For bearing with me through these nasty non-publishing days... You guys are awesome, it's a miracle I was even able to publish this today... amazingly, I was able to swim through that pile of homework sitting on my desk. :p. I hope you enjoy this chapter... though I just know you're all going to kill me by the time you reach the ending paragraph... MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Disclaimer: If I owned the Phantom of the Opera, do you think I'd be sitting here at my pathetic little Window's 95? No way man! I'd be writing from a theatre sized screen withover sizedkeys or... something (God I'm pathetic!)
"I don't understand it. You come back here, quite content with helping the Giry's, and the Populaire, and now you're crying as if things have never changed. Christine, you have to let me be here for you" Raoul pleaded with his wife, as she sat on the edge of their bed, shielding her anguished face with her hands, and quietly sobbing.
She said nothing, and her silence only stirred within him a growing panic. "If you will not explain your worry, then I shall seek it out myself!" With that, he stood and began to move toward the door, when Christine stormed to her feet.
"No Roaul! You mustn't go out there!" She warned. Raoul frowned and rotated to face her.
"Oh? And why not?"
What was she going to say? What could she say? There was no truthful explanation that would spare any kind of hardship.
"You know," Raoul began, "That friend of yours is quite rude."
"Meg?" Christine asked.
"No, the other one... what's her name?"
"Kristen... Kristen Verlaine." She answered.
"How did she get those ghastly marks on her face?" He asked.
She shook her head, "There was a fire... or something. I don't know, Raoul, but please, promise me you will not go looking for anything. This place is still so full of dangers, even though Erik... is dead. I'm sure they have not disassembled all of his tortures, all of his traps and lours, please promise me you will stay with me, don't leave me alone, please."
Raoul was at her side immediately, when he realized the poor frightened woman was shaking somewhat. She certainly looked as if she were still trapped within that nightmare which had plagued them only months before,
"I knew this would be a bad idea, to come back here." He said, "Perhaps we should leave. Yes! that is what we are going to do. Get you're bags Christine, we're going back to the estate."
"NO!" Christine thundered, and caught Raoul completely off guard with her sharp volume. "We must stay... for Meg and Madame Giry's sake!"
Raoul sighed, "You are torturing yourself by staying here. Can you not see how bad this place is for you?"
"I don't care!" Christine stated firmly, "I won't let the Populaire fall to ruin! We must stay!"
He sighed once more, "Fine, Christine, my love, but you will tell me what Meg told you. When the sun rises, you will tell me."
...(Scene shift)...
"Oh excellent!" M. Armande stated, staring down at the most recent letter received from a construction company.
"What is it?" Firmin requested, walking into the messy manager's office. Business papers were scattered endlessly around the room, one could barely see the floor!
"They're going to start rebuilding within the week! They're on their way from the south, and they'll be here by Thursday."
"Well, thatis good news" Firmin returned, looking somewhat drowsy.
"Firmin, are you quite all right?" Armande asked.
"Oh, yes, yes, fine." He said, then fell cold to the floor as if dead. Armande quickly scurried over and knelt down beside this very passed out manager.
"FIRMIN!" Armande yelled, and strongly shook his business partner, "You drunken oaf!"
"What is going on in here?" Came a strong male voice at the door. Armande quickly shot up to his feet, and faced the young man, who was Raoul, with a very startled expression.
"I'm sorry, just some... temporary issues, is there something I can help you with?" Armande asked. Raoul didn't ask for permission to enter the office, he simply barged in as if he were welcome. Armande was somewhat intimidated... this man was rich, and his strength of power, being a count and all... well, that wasn't so appealing either to this poor old manager.
"How did that happen?" Raoul demanded. Armande frowned, did he think it washis fault?
"He came in, he appeared to be perfectly fine, and then he passed out, dead as a door knob!"
"DEAD!" Raoul shouted.
"No no sir, he is not dead! he is simply... passed out."
Raoul walked further into the office, passed Armande, and began to gaze around at things, as if he were a detective, carefully hunting for clues. He knew something strange was going on in the Opera house... and somehow, he had the strongest feeling it had something to do with Monsieur le Fantome.
"I say... what do you think you are doing? These things are none of your business! Get out!"
"And what are these?" Raoul asked, picking up several rolls of paper, and opening them. Upon seeing the contents of the paper, his expression grew alarmed. "Where did you get these blueprints M. Armande? Who created these?"
"That is none of your business either! Now give me those before I notify the police of this intrusive behaviour!"
"What are you hiding from me?" Raoul demanded harshly. "What? He still lives, doesn't he! The Phantom of the Opera still lives in this very theatre! DOESN'T HE! Now it all makes sense!" He threw the papers down onto the floor and stormed out of the office. That was why Christine was crying! That was why Armande had choked on his wine at the mention of the Phantom. The murderer was still alive! Oh he'd waited to hear news like this! and now he could feel his blood sweltering.
...(Scene Shift)...
Kristen chuckled somewhat, "Meg, what time is it?" she asked curiously. She hadn't thought about the time since... well, long before her rather romantic escapades.
"I think it's a little past three in the morning. I haven't been up this late in such a long while. Why?" she asked
"I'm starving... Meg, please tell me you have something here to eat."
"Doesn't he feed you?" She asked.
"Well, there isn't exactly food to behad around here. I don't know where we're going to get our hands on provisions... and I can't remember the last time I saw him eat. I swear, it's like the man isn't fuelled by food at all!"
"That's impossible" Meg said, "Come, We'll go to my mother's room, she has food there. She's kept an effort to keepsome resources available for us." Kristen smiled thankfully. After hours on end without food, she thought she would die, but she was so glad that her nutritional drought was coming to it's finale.
"Shhhh, we don't want to wake her, she may be asleep. It is, after all, early" Meg whispered very quietly, as she tip toed through her mother's quarters. Kristen followed, as silently as a ghost. Meg even turned around a few times to see if she was still there. To her amazement, she was.
"We've got bread, there's never a shortage of bread, although, I'm sure it's gone a bit stale since..."
"It will be fine" Kristen said, and gratefully took the handful which Meg so generously handed over. In no time at all, it was vanished.
"You must be very hungry." Meg guessed, handing her a glass of water, "You should really make an effort to eat more than once every few days, especially since there may be a child on the way."
They both laughed silently at this notion, but their merriment didn't last very long.
"A child?" Meg jumped and whirled around to find her mother standing in the darkened kitchen doorway. "And just who will be having the child?" She asked, as if she thought it were her own daughter in the shoes of the supposed pregnant woman. Kristen took one very large gulp of water, and gently wiped her mouth,
"Madame Giry!" She said, and slightly coughed.
"Madame Giry! indeed." The elderly woman repeated, "Meg, I think you should run along to bed now, it's quite late for a ballerina to be up and about."
"Yes Maman," Meg hung her head low as she left the two.
"Kristen, do you care to tell me why you are here so early in the morning, and why you are putting a dent in our ration of food?"
"Oh, Madame Giry, I am so dreadfully sorry, I'm just so, so hungry, and Meg made it sound as if you had plenty to spare..."
"Don't worry child" Antoinette said calmly, "By all means, eat until you are full, I should have known that allowing you to live with the Phantom would dwindle you somewhat."
Kristen frowned, "I appreciate your concern, Madame, but you do not need to insult me."
The ballet instructor shook her head, "Kristen, I am not insulting you." She said, "I am merely in disbelief concerning this whole situation." Then, she walked right up to Kristen, and looked her dead in the eye, "My friend, what was Meg whispering about, when she mentioned the word child" she inquired, her voice a low and suspicious one. Kristen guzzled down the rest of her water, and thought deeply on the subject. Meg always had a way of letting people know things, when they were not meant to be known. And now look! this woman was on the verge of knowing a secret, that might not even need to be kept yet.
"She was only joking Madame, I assure you, everything is fine."
Kristen was worried that Madame Giry wouldn't buy her lies, but was extremely relieved when she received a sigh, and a pat on the shoulder, "Good heavens child, you nearly frightened me half to death."
"Why would that frighten you?"
"Erik, a father? Kristen, I don't think you know him well enough to realize just what kind of a father he would be."
She frowned, "No, I don't,enlighten me" She said, on a certain level she was offended by this woman's criticism. Erik would be a perfect father... Kristen was sure of it.
"Those are things I myself cannot tell you. My dear, you will have to find them out on your own."
"Madame Giry, please! What are you hiding from me" Kristen seemed to beg. It hadn't occurred to her until now that perhaps she didn't know Erik as well as she thought she had. Up until now she had only known that he was her rescuer, and that she loved him dearly... Oh, and that he once kidnapped Christine Daae, and... other than that she was clueless. "Never mind Madame," She said stubbornly, "I don't know why you look down at Erik, nor do I wish to know. He's perfect..." With that she nodded, "Thank you for the food, and tell Meg thank you, as well. I'll be going to bed now." She said, but truthfully, how would she sleep? First of all, she'd already slept a good... God only knows how many hours, and secondly, she had a few doors to unlock. "Goodnight Madame." She said, and made her exit.
Madame Giry shook her head, "Good heavens child, what have you got yourself into?"
All the way back down into the underground domain, Kristen could not get her mind off Madame Giry's words. What kind of a father would he make? If he was half as good to his child as he was to her, then he would be an excellent father. She could see him now, teaching their son or daughter to play the organ... Kristen would have a million bed time stories written out. GOD DAMN IT! She mentally yelled to herself. Three or four months had already passed, and she hadn't authored a single word! She stopped in the middle of the dark, damp tunnel, and leaned against the filthy wall. More and more she was beginning to love the foul confines of these hidden hallways, with their gothic, creepy nature. If only she could get her hands on a diary, or a journal... She'd have it full within days, spending hours on end just filling it's pages with the contents of the past few months, and her newly found source of love.
She then watched a few rats run by, as if chasing each other happily in a game of tag. They squeaked in the distance, and were gone. So strange, this place was just crawling with rodents and not one could be found above ground. Slowly she began to walk again, taking her time to see everything... every cob web, every crack in the stone wall. Home, she thought, and smiled rather darkly to herself.
She wondered what Erik would be up to, she had been gone no longer than an hour... he couldn't have done much within that time frame. Could he really change his whole realm? For a man who put so much care into everything he did, the odds of him changing the place entirety were quite low.
She threw open the mirror passage and walked into her home with pride, as if half influenced by alcohol. Things were in a bigger mess than they were before she left...
"ERIK?" She called. Her heart began to race as she perceived that wooden door, which had remained closed to her since her arrival there, was open.
"Erik?" She walked towards the door cautiously. She almost didn't want to go inside, she knew he would not have wanted her to be there. Just as she stood before it, he came out, and quickly closed the door behind him. She nearly sighed in frustration, but did not, at the sight of him... once again wearing that dreadful mask.
"Back so soon?" He asked, hoping to good God that she would forget her longing to view the contents of that room.
"Yes," she answered guardedly, but her eyes betrayed her, moving towards the door he stood blocking. "Why will you not show me what is in there?" She asked, walking forward until they were close enough to kiss, she gently pushed him against the door with her form, resting against his. "Is it really so horrible?"
"You don't want to see it," He told her quietly.
"Whatever it is... It really can't be good, can it? if you are so determined to obscure it from me."
"Some things are better left in the dark."
"Like us?" She asked, cloaking him with her embrace, she looked up at him, "I should burn that mask." She muttered sensually, lightly kissing him, keeping her face distanced just enough to prevent from touching that loathsome piece of plastic.
"And endure the sight of what lies beneath?" he whispered hauntingly at her.
"If you haven't noticed by now that I love to look at you, then you ARE one of the most brain dead men I've ever met!"
He snorted, "How many men have you met?"
"Enough to know that not one of them even compares to you in my strange and twisted heart..."
"Yes, you would have to be twisted to look upon me with fond eyes."
She exhaled in frustration, "You're impossible!" she told him,
"And you are not?" he replied.
There was an uneasy silence as they both stared at each other. She longed to rip the mask away from him... but more than that, she longed to throw him out of her way and enter that mysterious room which he kept so secreted from her. He could feel her breath warming his skin as she gazed up at him, despite the mask... She was so close.
"Is it where you keep the bodies?" She asked, her voice betraying signs of amusement. She couldn't tell herself that it was unthinkable, but it was a rather hilarious belief, that he would go to the surface, murder some unfortunate people and drag their lifeless carcasses into the depths of hell, only to store them in a room, behind no more than a wooden door.
"Yes Kristen, it's where I keep the bodies!" he replied sarcastically, looking down at her with eyes of mock insanity, drawing from her a glorious laughter. She pressed herself against him,
"I thought you were going to surprise me" She said, resting her head on his shoulder.
"I thought you'd be gone longer."
"Please show me what's in the room"
"No,"
She closed her eyes, his denial was becoming painful. "I wish you would not hide so many things from me."
"I only hide what I know will harm you." He told her. She glared up at him with a frown, growing in it's fury,
"Harm me? So whatever is behind that door will harm me? I find that hard to believe."
"No Kristen, I don't want you to know."
She looked away from him. "We can't have secrets like this, if we're going to be together this way."
"If you knew my past, you would change your mind about me." He told her, and began to caress her delicate features.
"You murdered, right? Murdered, and kidnapped, and did all sorts of nasty things..."
He closed his eyes, "It is so much more complicated than that."
"I think you are fascinating... everything about you fascinates me... Haven't we already been through this?" She reached around him, and lightly took the doorknob in her hands, "It's time Erik, everything we hide should be known to each other."
He was about to stop her, but realized that by the look in her eyes, she was dead serious, and perhaps she was right... It was time. She turned the knob, and swung the door open to reveal nothing more than a room, consumed by darkness. She could hear his breathing escalate in a sort of nervous air... whatwas within the shadows of this room? The air was colder, much colder, and this is where he slept? She thought to herself as she entered the blurs of dimness. She saw him walk into the blackness, and she heard the sound of metal, probably a candle stick, clank against what sounded like wood... perhaps a desk.
"I just know I'm going to regret this" He told her, as he brought light into the very room he thought would forever remain in shade.
Her breath was caught in her throat. Her eyes were fixed wide, and she knew they would stay glued open until forced shut. Never, had she ever seen anything like it before.
