Yep, it's that time again. A new chapter! Yes, I love Four! That last one was a bit of a doozy, eh? Well, I hope you enjoy it and all. And, I don't own any of the characters, yadda, yadda, yadda and so on and so forth. So take that.
Loss
Christine continued to run blindly through the dark passages, never giving way to the thought that she could become lost. Her mind began to recover from blind panic, and she stopped abruptly. There, to her right, she again heard the sound which had made her pause; soft breathing, close by. She froze in fear, hoping it would pass her by. She heard an echoing clop, then another, and suddenly she was nudged forward from behind. She turned slowly, relieved and petted the soft black muzzle offered to her by the magnificent black Friesian stallion who had gone missing from the opera's stables a few months earlier.
"Othello," she crooned softly, "what are you doing down here, love? I've been worried. We all thought you had been stolen. You were, though. By Erik, I suppose." She sighed wistfully. "How can he live through so much suffering? How can the world be so cruel? Obviously he's a kind man, as he let me go freely." She glanced at the horses gently protruding sides, then looked into his placid, liquid brown eyes. "And you haven't exactly been mistreated either." Othello shook his head vigorously, and she laughed softly. The horse nudged her again with his nose. She giggled, and petted his quivering nostrils. "What, you want me to come with you? Oh, all right, let's go." She laid a hand against his velvety neck, and they walked into the dark.
Meandering through the halls deep beneath the sage she knew so well, Christine suddenly felt drained of all energy after her earlier escapades. She stopped, swaying slightly, and the horse stopped with her. She leaned her weight into him, and he turned his head and nudged her against his side. She looked bewildered, then understood that the horse wanted her to ride.
"Okay, for a little while," she sighed, stepping onto a brick slightly jutted out from the wall and swinging astride. She moved with ease, displaying the years she had spent learning how to ride, after pestering the stable master mercilessly until he let her take lessons. Othello had been purchased shortly after she had arrived at the opera house, and she had fallen in love with the gorgeous stallion. There had never been a day when she had not at least visited the horse, despite her hectic schedule, and she found time to ride at least once a week, until he disappeared. She had missed his noncommittal attitude and gentle nature he so lovingly displayed as she sat between his massive hooves, telling him all her worries as he nuzzled her hair. And mostly, she had missed riding the horse, feeling the pent-up power of tensed muscles sliding under silky skin beneath her. She felt it again now, sitting astride the huge creature. He waited for her to settle on, then continued his journey, his gentle rocking gait lulling Christine into long awaited sleep.
She awoke suddenly when the fluid motion stopped abruptly and Othello nipped her leg. Looking around, dazed for a moment, she realized she was back in the passage behind her room. The mirror, she saw, looked straight into her domain. She was astounded by the thought that Erik could have been watching her always, when she slept, when she ate... when she changed clothing. She blushed crimson, then remembered the kindness with which he had treated her for so long, and how he had opened himself to the quick to her, and quickly dismissed these misgivings as childish. She dismounted, giving her faithful companion a long, fierce hug around his thick neck, and kissed his finely tapered head. She'd forgotten the quiet, strange beauty the horse possessed, and wished she had something to give him.
"Wait," she told him, and slipped across the threshold back into her room. The lamp had gone out, so she lit it, sending warm golden light flooding into every dark corner. She hurried to her armoire and retrieved a tin full of cookies from one of her admirers, and returned to the patient horse.
"Here, these are for you, my rescuer," she said to him, holding out a handful of the sweet biscuits. He nibbled them from her hand, and she fed him more, until the tin was empty. Othello nuzzled her once, then turned and walked away, retreating into the darkness.
Christine watched him fade out of sight, then entered her room quietly, emotions vying for attention in her mind. She was truly frightened of Erik, and lonely with no one to comfort her. She was utterly at a loss; Erik had never been so... difficult before. Above all, Christine felt love for her mysterious Phantom, deep, passionate, and true. Sadness swept over her as she realized the full implications of what had just transpired. Erik thought that she had rejected him; she would probably never see him again. Tears welled in her eyes as she lay on her bed, too exhausted and emotionally drained to sleep. She lay for a long time, weeping silently, until sleep did finally overtake her, covering all thoughts of love and loss in a blessed veil of unconsciousness.
Somewhere deep down below, Erik stalked the vacant corridors, conversing with the impassive, silent walls. "How could she do this to me!" he cried. "Damn it, I love her! Why can't she see past this repulsive carcass which burns in Hell!" he slammed a fist into the bricks, then leaned against them, slowly sliding down the wall until he sat, head cradled in his knees, shaking with silent sobs. Erik spent the remainder of the night this way, thinking of everything he had sacrificed, of how little any of it mattered to anyone, and of the woman who had so recently fled with what remained of his shattered heart.
