Wow. Shocking, wasn't it? Chapter Six, I mean. I wonder if I should just stop the story there. That'd be so cruel, wouldn't it. Okay, I'll keep it going. Just read and review, okay? Or at least read. I don't really care whether you like it or not. I like it. And if you're reading this far, you obviously like it too. Anyway, no owning of the characters, blah, blah, on with the show.
Passion
Christine awoke hours later, disoriented, feeling hot tears running down her face. She touched one gently and watched, fascinated, as it rolled down her slim finger, wondering what had made her cry. In a flash, like lightening searing her mind, like a mental thunderclap, she remembered the terrible scene from the previous night. Gasping, she looked around frantically; she realized she was in her own room.
"Oh, God, it was just a dream," she whispered as she sobbed with relief. She curled up and let herself weep for a while. Suddenly, she sat up. "But if I don't do something, someday it might not be."
She stood and dressed quickly for the day, entirely ready to search out Erik, to speak with him. The moment she opened her door, however, she realized life didn't always care what previous plans she had made.
"Christine, I was wondering when you'd get out of bed," said Meg Giry, Christine's best friend of ten years. "Come on, we've got rehearsal," she prodded, grabbing the girl bu the wrist and pulling her down the hall.
"I - I was going to - I mean, I need..." She sighed, and resigned herself to search for the man she loved later, after she had performed her duties for the day.
The rest of the morning and afternoon passed slowly, despite all the work the young soprano had to complete, as though time were playing a cruel trick on her. By late evening, all of Christine's instructors had given up on her due to her distraction; so, she was excused early and told to try to refocus, though her dismissal merited her a few sullen glares from other weary students. She rushed into her dressing room, changed into a comfortable, silky evening gown, and pried open the mirror that faced her every day, reminding her of what opportunity lay behind its deceptive reflection. She paused for a second at the threshold, then stepped forward into the embracing darkness, letting it enfold her as she unconsciously made a decision which would alter her life forever.
The long black corridors loomed in front of the girl, as if determined to keep her from reaching Erik. She thought she remembered the gloomy passages, though, recalling this lantern and that stone formation from her previous journey. She turned yet another corner, and stopped short as a massive black shape loomed in the darkness in front of her. She took a step backward, ready to flee, when the form nickered gently at her.
"Oh, Othello!" she cried, rushing forward to hug him around his soft, arched neck. "How do you always find me when I need you the most?" The big horse nudged her, and she laughed and held out her empty hands, palms up.
"I don't have any cookies today," she told him. He pushed her again, and she bumped into a large rock in the hallway. "Oh, I see," she said. "All right, I'm getting on." She stepped on the rock and slid onto his broad back. She leaned forward, her long brown curls falling across his silky black mane, and whispered, "Take me to him." Othello tossed his head, and stepped sharply off into the eternal night.
Though it could not have been longer than twenty minutes, the journey seemed to take hours for Christine's troubled mind. She could think of nothing but Erik, hoping he was still there and praying he still cared for her. When the horse finally stopped, she slipped off his side and patted his soft shoulder. The muscles twitched beneath his skin, and Christine kissed his black, velvety nose.
"I love you, you great beauty," she whispered as he turned and walked back into the darkness. Within seconds, he had been swallowed by the blackness of the corridor. She turned and walked in the opposite direction, down a hallway that led to the mouth of Erik's lair. The horse had brought her to the entrance on the opposite side of the sprawling lake, so she didn't need to cross it in the boat like last time. Praising his brilliance once again, Christine went in search of her Phantom.
She found him seated at his pipe organ, mumbling to himself and writing hurriedly on a few pieces of parchment. His back was turned, and he did not see her enter. She walked softly up to him, careful not to let him hear her approaching, and brushed her hand gently across his shoulder. He froze for an instant, then whirled to face her, eyes ablaze behind the porcelain mask. As his gaze rested upon her face, his expression softened for a moment, filled with hope, and a longing that she couldn't quite put a name to; but the fire returned, his glare full of hatred and betrayal, burning into her heart.
"How dare you come here, to my sanctuary, my home? How dare you return to mock me after what you have done?" He whispered low and menacingly, his deep voice reverberating through his chest, carrying the passion of loathing in it.
She stared at him for a moment, silently. When she did not respond, Erik turned away from her and walked across the room. Christine never moved, never took her eyes off the figure of the man whom she cared for so deeply. She was entirely unsure how to handle this situation, after receiving his fiery welcome.
"I thought I loved you," she called after a few moments of oppressive silence. His shoulders stiffened visibly, and he turned his head slightly, as if trying to catch her words. "I thought I did, coming down here to find you a short time ago," she began, crossing the room, moving steadily toward him. " More than anything, I wanted to find you, to speak with Erik, the man who once taught me to listen to the darkness inside rather than shun it. I came here looking for that man, the one I loved, but I found a monster, full of hatred and rage, in his place." She was standing directly behind him now, but he never moved. "Tell me, dark Phantom, what have you done with Erik?"
He turned slowly to look at her, his eyes now cold and unfathomable. "How dare you ridicule me? What right do you have to call me a monster! I rescued you, I nurtured you, I gave you your voice! You betrayed me, spurned my kindness, broke my trust and defiled my love! And you come here to call me a monster? You will never know how much I wanted you - no. How much I needed you, Christine! I broke into pieces that night I watched you run from me! You cannot comprehend the depths of my sorrow."
Her eyes softened as she looked into his own, deep and filled with pain and loss. He could bear her pitying look no longer and began to turn away again. Her hand reached out faster than he could react, and she grabbed his wrist. Without hesitation, she pulled him back around toward her. Softly, tenderly, as if afraid he would pull away, she traced her trembling fingertips up his arms. He tensed, but relaxed slowly under her loving gaze. He sighed almost imperceptibly, then tilted her chin up to take her mouth in his. His kiss was so longing, so passionate and desperate, that Christine realized, startled, that she was the first woman he had ever been with. She wound her fingers through his soft black hair, savoring the moment. Erik broke away, with boundless love reflected in his golden eyes. This time, he sighed deeply, softly kissing her eyelids, and resting his head upon her dark brown curls.
"I love you," he said softly, and the girl could hear the years of loneliness and despair in his voice. She pulled away from him, startled, and said, "Still? After I left you for so long?"
"Christine, forever. I'll love you forever. Nothing will ever change that."
"Good," she whispered, and leaned her head against his chest, "because I can't stop loving you."
He smiled gently, and claimed her mouth again. This kiss was unlike anything Christine had ever known; deep and sweet, full of pain, joy, and seductive promise. His tongue slipped between her parted lips, and she sighed again. He broke away again and looked at her desperately.
"Christine, would you... that is, with me, do you want to...?" He trailed off, looking lost. She seemed confused for a moment, then understood his awkward invitation.
"Yes, Erik, I've wanted it more than you know."
"I doubt that," he said, picking her up as he had twice before, and carrying her to his bed. He lay her down gently, lowered himself next to her, and silently drew the curtains.
