Phantom belongs to Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Weber.
Are my chapters too short? Anyway here is number four!
"Do you?" he repeated, his sharpened tone slightly frightening her.
"Stand back, Christine." Whether she trusted him or not it was too late for her to change her mind. Many of his usual passages were engulfed in flames and there was no way he was going to let her take her chances with the mob. No, he would simply have to force her to join him once again and then release her... once again...
He sighed.
Please say yes.
He picked up the candelabrum he had carelessly dropped to the ground, this time in a completely different emotional place but panicked all the same.
"What... what are you doing? Won't they hear us?" She whispered.
"Yes." He looked at her. "I had meant to do it sooner... But we have no other option now. Besides, a noise like this could come from anywhere; the floors above are in flames by now."
With a nod from Christine, he stepped up to the threshold and smashed the final mirror; the last barrier between the outside world and himself, between his old and new life. The mirror shards fell to the floor, a brief but brilliant display of light as they fell. Christine jumped with surprise at the action. The alarm evident on her face as The Phantom turned to her once more.
"We haven't any time left." He said to her, trying to retain his calm, purposeful demeanor for her sake. He held out his hand a final time. His intense gaze shifted from Christine to the cavern behind her as silhouettes of the mob could now be seen littering the passageway. Their yells and torches promised violence as they approached.
Christine stared at The Phantom a moment longer before taking his hand. He allowed himself a small smile and before she could take a step he had seized her decision and whisked her up into his arms; remembering the glass and the fact that she had not been wearing shoes when he had dragged her down there...
Dragged her...
No time to think on that now.
She held tightly onto his neck as he stepped through the threshold, pulling a curtain to cover the doorway as he went. The shards of glass crunched under his boots. The mob had almost reached the portcullis by now.
It won't be long until they realize they can lift it.
The silence and darkness of the cavern seemed to swallow them whole as they entered it.
"This will be frightening for you." He said softly as he noticed her grip on him tighten. "Your eyes have not yet adjusted to the darkness as mine have. It will be a while before you are able to see. You must trust me."
"I do." She replied, holding onto the sound of his voice as if it were a life raft in the middle of the ocean. She had always done just that. His voice had been there for her during her darkest hour.
She had arrived The Opera as a child, shortly after her father had died. Her father had been everything to her; the loss was great and the chaotic atmosphere of the Opera only forced her to withdraw further within herself. Her Angel had been her savior then as he was now.
The Phantom smiled inwardly. If nothing else, it was all for this moment. He was physically closer to Christine than he ever had been or had ever hoped to be. He could feel her warm breath on his neck, her soft curls caressing the skin of his chest and at this moment his fondness for the darkness was more than it ever had been, for it hid the small smile which was beginning to outwardly show on his face.
"Will they find us?"She whimpered after a minute or so of walking, once she was sure their pursuers would not hear.
"Don't be afraid, Christine. I would die before I let anything befall you."
She remained silent.
"Perhaps you underestimate your company..." He added with a smirk which was of course, not visible.
Had she been better acquainted with him she would have laughed, for she was convinced that this had been his attempt at humor. She also refrained from speaking because what he had said had made her slightly uneasy. She did not underestimate him; sheknew what he was capable of. She had seen it for herself and it conjured up issues, memories and questions that she was not yet ready to face. Instead, she changed the subject.
"Thank you for carrying me." She said modestly.
"That's quite alright, Christine." He replied plainly. He was obviously not prepared to go any deeper than pleasantries either.
"You're not tired?"
"It's perfectly tolerable. I'd rather be a little uncomfortable than have you injure yourself."
"Yes." She said awkwardly. There was so much that needed to be spoken between them and they both knew it. It seemed an absurdly ordinary conversation for such a situation.
"At least let me take the cape." She offered, noticing that he had been holding both the cape and her for some time. He let go of it and she took it, holding it against them both.
His cape.
This piece of clothing had become much more than just a piece of clothing; it had become part of her image of him; the Angel, father, Phantom persona she had pieced together. It seemed surreal to be holding it in her hands but for what particular reason, she could not fathom.
After a few more twists and turns they came to a small room. The walls were that of the rest of the caverns save for a small amount of moss on the ground and cobwebs which littered most of the corners. Thankfully, Christine could not see this.
"We should be safe here, for now." He said.
The Phantom walked in and set Christine down.
"Wait... what do you mean?!" She asked, reluctant to let go of him. The floor was cold and she could not yet see. "Why can't we leave now? Just go?" She was getting more and more anxious with each word.
He held her shoulders gently, trying to calm her.
"Shh... We must stay here for a few hours. After that we can leave. I haven't travelled this way in some time; usually I exit on the Rue Scribe side, but the Opera is no doubt being surrounded by Gendarme as we speak. This way allows us to exit further away but I don't know these caverns as well as I used to. If we are ahead of them and hit a dead end we could be found." He reasoned.
"But..."
"We must wait for them either to get lost, give up or be satisfied with finding nothing. It is too dangerous at the moment. After we hear them leave, we can go."
To this she seemed to reluctantly acquiesce.
"I'm so scared." She whispered, her voice cracking up.
She started to cry.
Oh no.
Comforting was not something The Phantom was exactly accustomed to and he wasn't sure what to do.
Do people get used to this?
Thankfully, he had to do very little. She rested her head against his chest and cried. Slowly, like before his arms circled around her form and pulled her closer.
"Don't cry." He soothed. "I don't yet know why you came back but in my company you are safe, always... But we must keep our voices down..."
She looked up at him and while she could not make out much except for an outline, she could feel him and she felt safe... Safer than she had ever felt with Raoul.
"Come, let's sit down." He said.
"...Alright." She replied, sniffing and wiping her tears with her hands. He led her to one of the walls.
"Wait a moment." He let go of her hands and quickly brushed away a series of cobwebs that stretched out behind her.
"Alright." He said, holding her hands again as she sat down against the wall. She was cold but did not want to plague him with more worry.
Without speaking he sat down next to her and wrapped the cape she had been holding around her shoulders gently. She hadn't thought of actually wearing it...
"Thank you." She said gratefully and pulled it tightly around her.
He sat back with his arms resting on his knees and exhaled.
Now we wait.
Now we talk.
Now it begins.
"Aren't you cold?" She asked
"What?" He almost laughed. He had been expecting her first question to be more along the lines of 'How many people have you killed?' or even 'When can I leave?'
"You're only wearing a shirt and you're still wet?"Christine questioned, genuinely concerned.
"I have grown accustomed to the cold, my dear." He replied, his tone short.
If only she knew.
She wasn't convinced but his tone told her not to pursue his response. There seemed to be a lot of emotion attached to this statement and it didn't seem as if he was looking to expand on it. He seemed to go in and out of this 'Phantom' character at will...
There was silence. Now that they were finally alone together; had the time to speak to one another neither of them knew quite what to say, where to start. The awkward atmosphere was palpable, the tension; visible. So many questions and concerns lingered in the air.
Finally The Phantom voiced one of them; a question which had plagued him since she had returned. Why not start there?
"Why did you return?"
Christine froze. She wasn't prepared to answer this at all.
