A/N: I am so sorry to have kept you guys waiting... I had six tests in the past two weeks... yeah yeah, i know... excuses excuses. lol. I promise that I won't leave you guys hanging for another two weeks... I will update tomorow probably, and then again a few times on the weekend, since I've got so much spare time now... if everything goes according to plan, that is. I hope the chapter isn't too eventless, lol, I'm sure you'll LOVE some stuff. Please Review, you readers are the most amazing reviewers!
Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, or any of it's characters (yay, I had a dream about Gerard Butler last night, woohoo!)
It was certainly coincidental that the funeral just happened to land on a day of such gloom. As it turned out, Raoul's body was laid to rest right next to the Daae mausoleum, in the pouring rain. Kristen watched as poor Christine cried uncontrollably, her gloved hands covering her eyes, her sobbing obvious. Meg was also in tears, standing beside her mother, as the priest spoke those ominous words from the Holy Bible.
Kristen herself shed not one tear, and neither did Madame Giry. This she noticed without delay. But why would they bury him here? In a place which already held such sorrow for poor Ms. Daae. The world was sick, no doubt it would soon fall from it's illness. Still, she felt guilty for her other selfish thoughts. Kristen had begged Erik to attend the funeral, she begged continuously, and failed.
The priest's words seemed to blur into inaudible murmurs as Kristen's thoughts strayed from what was truly occurring. At first she cursed herself for being so self-centred, but as the sadness continued, she could no longer bare to watch. She recalled the words which Erik had said to her upon request of his attendance.
People are already daunted by the fact that the count is dead, they do not need the added turmoil of seeing my face, mask or no mask.
It greatly dispirited her that no matter how much she loved him, he still refused to be seen. If he were here now, she knew she would be able to focuss more on the actual funeral, rather than mourning over the fact that he was probably down there in the depths of their lovely hell, composing some truly terrifying piece of music, or recalling his empty past.
She wanted to go to him, but leaving would prove distasteful. She couldn't believe that she was so attached to him. She never knew that their brief parting would be this painful.
Kristen nearly cried when she saw poor Christine fall to her knees as Raoul's coffin began it's descent into the earth. The young widow hid her screams of agony with the palms of her hand. In her eyes was the most horrifying fear a woman could ever show. Meg was already crying, clutching to her mother for support. Nearly everyone was crying. And she couldn't believe the gall of the press... men snapping pictures, trying for interviews! The woman's husband was dead for heaven's sake, and they were asking her how she felt!
The crowd eventually deserted the grave yard, some in tears, some with their head's bowed... with some it was clear that their sadness was merely a mask hiding their indifference. Christine, however, could not budge from her place in the dirt, her beautiful black gown becoming filthy with the soil and the mud.
"Come Christine, we must go now, the carriage is waiting." Kristen gently beckoned. How could she ever feel hatred towards the girl again? After all of this... There was nothing left but pity.
Christine said nothing. She moved naught but her head, in signal of refusal.
"Oh Christine," Meg sobbed, kneeling to the ground, and embracing warmly her severely distraught friend.
"You don't know how this hurts" Christine finally uttered in her pain, and continued crying. At this, Kristen could not hold back tears of her own. She knew that if circumstances had been different in the lair that night, she would never survive Erik's death. How would Christine find the strength to live after the death of Raoul?
Before the funeral, Christine had been collected, she did not know that the finality of this ritual would weigh so heavily on her heart. Kristen knew well the horror of finality, for the memory remained quite monstrously with her, of the day she thought she would never see again.
"Christine, listen, I know that what you must be going through is awful, but we cannot stay out here in this cold and this rain. You will get sick." Kristen offered, but quickly gave up as the young woman yet again refused.
"Christine, come with me, we will go back to the Populaire, and... I will show you the wonderful work they've done with the restoration! The stained glass is almost complete! I saw it this morning." Meg deserved credit. She too had been tremendously melancholic over the whole ordeal, but her words eventually got Christine up off the ground, and to the carriage. Strangely, it was not their friendship which brought Christine to stand, but the Populaire instead.
The whole lot of them were soaked from head to toe when they reached the safety of their transportation. The driver shot the three of them disturbing glances as they sat upon the very clean cushion seats. Madame Giry's strong authoritative stare was enough to force his eyes towards the road ahead, he did not give a backward glance again.
The ride back to the Populaire was a silent one, but words would have been inappropriate. Christine's gaze landed upon nothing else but the floor, Meg looked simply depressed from the inside out. Her bruises had healed some what, but their marks still burdened her face considerably.
Christine would not see the glass which graced the newly restored windows of the theatre. Upon entering the building, she ran straight to her room... herold room, and sat in the corner, frightened. Since the fire, everything from these old quarters of her's had been removed, and she saw that the mirror, though it remained, had been tampered with, and would probably never open again.
As Madame Giry departed from them to go and speak with the managers, Kristen slowly trailed her way through the labyrinth, taking her time to get home.
...(Scene Shift)...
As she travelled through the tunnels, deeper and deeper into the darkness, the music grew louder and louder in it's sorrow. What must he be feeling? She thought, growing exceedingly worried for her fiancé. She almost never heard him play, and certainly she'd never heard this piece in her life. It must have been his own, original score.
She passed through the mirror passage, still soaked was her funeral gown, which Erik had made for her especially. How odd it was that he was so capable with a needle and thread. He apparently did not acknowledge her entry, for he did not stop playing, he did not turn around to see who the intruder was. To her disappointment, she saw that he wore the hideous mask, along with the same formal black attire, but the music he played was breathtaking. She could scarcely think straight to even ask him to remove it. Perhaps right now she thought it best not to.
Moving towards him, as he passionately struck the ivory keys with his ingenious finger tips, she gently put her hands to his shoulders, then softly wrapped them around to his chest, embracing him from behind, her front to his back. She saw his eyes close in reaction to her affection, but mazingly he continued to play, knowing that it was her... perhaps he knew she had returned all along but refused to end his musical brilliance. Her hold on him did not limit the use of his arms however, he still managed to continue the magnificence.
"Erik?" She whispered softly, kissing his cheek... the side which was not covered in that ghastly plastic. "You are troubled, please tell me what has you so?" she kissed him again. Quite shockingly he stopped playing, right in the middle of whatever he was performing.
"You were gone longer than expected." He said darkly, but she could hear the lamentation in his voice... he had missed her greatly.
"I know, Erik." She said, moving closer to him, strengthening her arms around him. "It was all so horrible."
"Did she cry?" He asked.
"Yes, she did" She answered honestly. There it was, his never ending concern for her. Could she blame him? She could not... right now, after the terrible experience of that funeral, she felt more than willing to accept that he would always love Daae in some form.
"What has you so troubled?" She asked again, letting go of him and walking around to sit beside him on the bench. He said nothing, and it only worried her more.
"Has something happened while I was away?" She asked. Her stomach nearly flipped over in her abdomen, with the fear of her own assumptions. As she looked to him now, all she could see was the mask, with the angle she was seeing him from. She looked away, she had too... it had been quite a long while since she saw him wear it, but she still had not the heart right now to tell him not to, though she greatly wished she had the courage.
"No... nothing." He said, putting his hands back to the organ, and continuing. All she could do was listen. She listened to the pain which came from the music. This inner pain which was more often than not reflected in his own eyes. She closed her lids, and just sat there... would he never find peace from his horrid past?
...(Scene Shift)...
Meg was greatly troubled as she walked these hallways which were once the scene of horror stories and fright. Oh how disturbing it was for her to walk them aimlessly, knowing that there was no real ghost. How dull the place would be now that Kristen was going to marry the ghost.
Would the Phantom agree to an open wedding? Or would they wed in solitude where no one could bare witness to the masked groom?Meg sighed quietly. It could be worse, she thought. Erik could be taking her away... but he's not. It then occurred to her that Erik had not been at the funeral. Had Kristen told him not to come? No... she would never be that heartless. She imagined that Erik had probably refused her eager invitation. Come to think of it... Nadir was not there either... but then again... why on earth would he go to the funeral?
She painful slammed her fist against the wall. She couldn't think about him! As a rule she would not think of him. He had been too kind... too awfully kind. She knew the feelings which were forming within her heart... she knew she was growing fond of him. She also knew that a man like him would have no interest in a common ballet rat, no matter how flattering his words may have been, she was just a dancer, one of many, as her mother liked to say.
Nadir... how unusual his name was. He was Persian right? She'd heard of Persia... almost instantly her curiosity towards the place began to grow. It was dooming. He would never escape her thoughts now... not now... not ev-
"OH! Goodness I'm so s... sorry." She hadn't seen who it was that she had slammed right into until she opened her saddened eyes and found that she looked right into the very eyes of Nadir himself. What was he still doing here? By now shouldn't he have been half way back to his mysterious country?
"Meg?" He asked, the tiniest smile lifting the corners of his lips. She was utterly speechless. No one had ever looked at her that way before. It was fear more than anything now that filled her young heart. "Why are you lurking about? Should you not be in bed, you are not fully healed of your injuries." He said. Oh his voice, she knew now that she would never forget that sound.
"It doesn't matter" She said. "My room is hardly a place of comfort to me, and I am not very tired."
"You are soaking wet." She looked down at her drenched gown, she could not disagree.
She wanted to say something... anything, but every word she yurned to speak became launched in her throat, nearly blocking her breath. "Meg, why are you sad?"
She nearly turned and walked away. She could not do this... she could not open her mind to this man, this man who was slowly destroying her beating heart. But something inspired her to stay, something she could not describe.
"You know why I am sad." She told him, swallowing whatever pride she had stored within herself. She knew he remembered their conversation, did he really possess such short term memory loss? or was he doing this on purpose?
She became confused by his silence, but she lacked the courage to look up at him.
He could not believe the girl. She reminded him of Erik with the way she lurked about in darkness, the way her voice betrayed her sorrow, her eyes constantly threatening to cry. Her life could not have been so miserable that she would feel so alone. He'd seen many women, Meg was not like them. She couldn't see her own beauty? God, he was sure everyone else could.
Her heart jumped within her chest when he took her hand, and beckoned her foward, "Come with me, I'm sure that if you get out of these shadows you will feel better." he told her, guiding her from the corridors towards the grand entrance...only the very scene of that brutal incident with those heartless navy men. She would have stayed in the shadows, had it been any one else trying to rip her from them.
"You know this place well..." She said, allowing her grip to tighten somewhat.
"There was a time, not so long ago, that I, along with the Phantom, lurked behind the walls of this theatre. Erik is quite good at what he does, but not even the trap door lover himself can pull off living five storeys below the Populaire without some sort of assistance."
"You were his assistant?"
"More of a servant." he returned quietly, continuing down the hall, "He could have got along without me, but for some strange reason he saved my life... saved me from the strange sirens which occupy that mystifying lake."
"So you knew of everything? You knew he was the one causing such turmoil amongst the managers and performers?"
"I knew..." he replied, "There was not much I could do to stop him. No one stops Erik."
"What stopped him from having Christine?" She then asked, much more quietly than she had spoken before. This question truly startled him. Why would she be concerned with that when it was Kristen who now occupied the man's heart.
"It is complicated." Nadir said, as they entered the large space of the more recently restored rotunda. "Christine agreed to marry him."
Meg knew some of the story, but she had not been present that night until after Erik had fled from the apparent scene of tragedy... neither had anyone else. The only one who hinted about the events of that night was Christine, in her sorrow towards Raoul's lust for revenge, and even those words had been vague to her, when there had been so much at stake.
"I know" Meg said, "But why did he not marry her? Why would he allow her to go off with that..." She didn't want to insult the dead... so she simply did not describe him.
"With Raoul?"
She nodded.
"My dear," Nadir began, sitting on a set of steps situated to the left of the front doors. Meg sat as well, intent on listening. "Erik has lived on this earth as a ghost. You've seen his face, have you not?"
"He is not so frightening..." she said.
"No... not to you, who knows that he means to cause you no harm. People are ignorant, love, they live with the belief that anyone who is not born perfect must be straight from the fires of hell. No one loved him... No one would touch him, or go near him. Apparently, Christine kissed him that night. To live your whole life knowing that you will never be loved, then be shown love by the one person your whole heart desires, is enough to kill you. He couldn't hold her prisoner, not after that."
Meg listened with a heavy heart. Her eyes were glued to the marble floor as she tried to imagine everything he had just described. "He has Kristen now." She whispered. Any louder, and she knew she would be crying.
"Meg?" he asked. She would not look to him. He brought his hand to her chin to move her to face him. "Do you honestly feel so lonely?"
Suddenly she had to concentrate on breathing. Honestly she did feel so lonely, and the more she felt this way, the more she began to believe that there was no cure for it. She tried to imagine what he must think of her, after knowing Erik for so many years, a man who could rightfully say he was lonely. She bore no horrid deformity, even so, her heart was at serious risk of breaking. Her beautiful eyes began to moisten as she looked up to him, "I wish I could say no" She softly whispered.
Nadir couldn't quite put his finger on the last time he'd felt such sadness for another, but this was certainly a moment. He saw it in her eyes that she wasn't lying. He hadn't seen such empty despair in anyone, except Erik himself. "No... Meg, please don't cry." he said,
She didn't sob, though she shed tears. "Nadir, how well do you know my mother?" She asked.
Sudden confusion swept over him. Why would she want to know that? "I used to know your mother, but I haven'treally spoken with her since before the accident."
She decided to herself to waste no time. He was crushing her inside, treating her with such kindness... she knew that hopeless was the right word for this situation. "Will you answer me honestly, though my words may be less than polite."
"Of course." He replied.
"Why are you here? Why are you staying in the theatre? Raoul is dead, Erik and Kristen are safe, the Opera will be up and running within a few short months, why do you stay? And why do you spend time with me?" She had never been so bold, but she knew that these words would either send him away or answer her curiosities, and she was not willing to pretend that he felt anything for her when he showed her such care.
Silence persisted for a few moments before Nadir took the liberty of standing from his spot beside her. He walked out into the centre of the large rotunda, his footsteps causing echoes throughout the entire area . She watched him, her tears beginning to dry. There was no better way to cure pain than to be numb to it all together. If she had to be so mean as to question his motives... oh she hated herself already.
She, in turn, stood from the cold stone steps, and approached him slowly, her voice was soft and gentle when saying "Nadir, will you please answer me before I completely lose my mind? Is it truly the past kindness of my mother which keeps you here?"
He turned to face her, "Of course it isn't your mother's past kindness." He blurted out before he had the chance to contemplate the possible stupidity of his comment. It would not be better left unsaid though. The young lady wished to know? So she would. "That woman has a glare colder than ice."
She froze. What was he saying?
"Meg... For the past five days I've been trying to put this into words... but I am not as poetic nor romantic as a man should be. Meg, you're spectacular... I've always thought so. All the while I was the Phantom's assistant I've watched you. I've watched you dance... I've heard you sing on occasion, and now that I've met you... I cannot understand how a woman like you could not have been called on yet. Men in France are the most idiotic human beings I've ever laid eyes on."
Still she stood frozen. This must have been a dream, a simple illusion that would fade away at morning's first light.
"I would understand it completely if you wish me gone for revealing this... I adore you Meg," He took her hand in his, "I have missed Persia, but I was never sad in being here... recently I have wished not to leave."
Had Meg ever been paralysed before? She didn't know, but she was now. Why? was the only question she could think of. This was happening too fast... much too fast, she could barely think clearly. Moments ago this could not have been predicted by even the greatest fortune teller.
"N..." She wanted to say his name, but still she could not speak. She looked up into his dark mysterious eyes and wished she had the courage to say the same things back to him. She allowed her eyes to close as he brought his hand to warm her cheek,
"Please tell me my heart does not seek disappointment." He said gently.
The anticipation was murder. She was never flirtatious, he knew that. She was quite lady like, with all gratitude paid to her mother.
"It does not." She whispered. God only knew how hard it was for her to manage those three words.
Had anyone been close enough to see them, surely their first kiss would not have been kept secret for long.
