Disclaimer: I am neither Andrew Lloyd Webber nor Gaston Leroux.
Author Note: So the angst continues. But with light at the end of the tunnel.
I am in serious need of something E/C. Especially after writing the last chapter!
The lines at the end of the chapter are taken from one of my favourite poems. It's 'Stars' by Emily Brontë and I think the theme is perfect for Erik and Christine. I love it.
We have a few more chapters to go after this, but we are nearing the end. Many thanks to anyone still reading this and putting up with my atrocious update schedule!
Thirty Four- Slow Burning Flames
No-one moved from their respective positons whilst Nadir took the body of the beaten and bloody drunkard back into the inn, muttering under his breath post that outburst of fury- Raoul would have helped him to carry the man, for he was huge and definitely a struggle for Nadir to shift, but Christine's hand was still tightly attached to his arm and she was trembling again. He was scared to leave her, undeniably shaken by the ferocity and insanity Erik had displayed but also because he didn't know how Christine was going to react to all of this. It was a fact of life these days that she had a temper, and a volatile one at that, and the thought of her leaping at Erik and trying to attack him in a moment of fury was not a pleasant one. Erik would never hurt her intentionally- but who knew what either was capable of in such circumstances?
Raoul realised then what a mess had been made of everything. How damaged they all were- how all their hopes had been resting on something so fragile, that they had been almost promised failure and insanity. Raoul felt the drips of water on his bare hand and thought for a moment that Christine was crying, but then his awareness of the surroundings came back and he saw again the rain, saw that they were all soaked to the skin, standing oblivious in the downpour.
Erik's shoulders had finally stopped quivering and the slow burn of his eyes had dulled back to normality, but there was still something tight and tense about him that made both Raoul and Christine wary of approaching him- Christine especially, having never seen him like this before. She had been able to accept and love Erik, hearing all the stories and hearing about the atrocities he had committed, knowing in her heart that he was broken and simply needed love, but seeing him like this had shaken that resolve. She had not ever truly thought of him as being capable of such acts and now… seeing him standing there, trembling like a madman and splattered with the blood of a stranger, she could not ignore the truth. She wanted to run over to him, to clutch him to her chest, to rock him and soothe him and cry with him, to tell him that everything was alright that they were together now and nothing would shake them again. But she could not bring herself to do it.
Raoul too could not force himself to go to Erik, shaken by what they had witnessed- he knew that the outburst was spontaneous, reacting badly to the sight of Christine in danger, being so ill treated by what was essentially a common thug, but the reaction of dragging him out and almost killing him was beyond even Erik's normal temper. There was something wrong, very badly wrong, and that became ever more apparent when Nadir returned to the courtyard with that same furious expression on his face- his anger darkened when he turned to Raoul.
"Well, Vicomte, isn't this a surprise." He said coldly, and Raoul merely looked confusedly back at him. "I suppose I ought to be grateful that you at least left a note telling me of your intentions- given your attitude and your arrogant assumptions of knowing better than any of the rest of us, I am surprised you did not simply leave me to guess what yours and Christine's absence meant!"
The Persian sounded scarily like Erik, and this was enough to make Raoul realise that the scowl was indicating real anger- Nadir was honestly furious with him. Swallowing hard and trying to remember that he too had thought this idea stupid, and had only agreed for the sake of Christine and her ever depleting sanity, Raoul forced a half-hearted laugh, which only served to darken Nadir's expression.
"Nadir, I see the rain hasn't damped your wit! Christine and I had intended to tell you- in fact we wanted you to come along, but we were at the other side of the city and there was little point in…in wasting yet more time…and…" Raoul's voice trailed off as he realised how pathetic the lies and feeble excuses sounded. He coughed, clearing his throat, and felt Christine shrink a little closer- Erik had still not responded to anyone; Raoul could have sworn he were an ornate statue or something lifeless, if it weren't for the slightly shaking motion of his breathing. His silent, ominous presence made Raoul's hairs stand on end and he hated that, for he and Erik had truly reached a point of friendship over the last months. He refused to regress and return to that relationship of fear and competition- he refused to be scared of him. "I think there's little point in fussing over this- we've found each other, by a stroke of luck, and without too much aggravation I'm sure-" he regretted that last comment when he saw Erik's fists clench, his knuckles white and bursting. "Why don't we all go inside and have a drink?"
"There is merit in your suggestion Vicomte, but that does not redeem you. Before we go inside and get out of this damned rain I want to make it known that- that your idiocy has been second to none." Nadir snapped, and Raoul felt first hurt, then a little angry, his gentle temper prodded and aggravated by Nadir's unfair reproach. He did not want to yet again be the verbal punch-bag who took the blame for every disaster that occurred between them. Especially when this was not his fault. "Why you thought that taking Christine on a wild goose chase was intelligent, or helpful, or what was best for her is completely beyond me! What on earth did you expect to achieve from such stupidity?!"
Raoul gaped at him.
"I didn't expect anything!" He felt Christine's hand tighten on his arm, and that small gesture made him all the more willing to defend her naïve request- and his stupidity for agreeing to it. "Christine came to me and asked me if I would go with her and of course I agreed. I knew it was foolish and I knew that it would never come to anything but perhaps that was not why I agreed to it- perhaps I was just trying to do what she wanted, because I tell you both this, she looked the happiest I have seen her in weeks when I said I would go with her! That has got to be worth something!"
"God's teeth man, grow a backbone!" Nadir said, perhaps seeming crueller than he intended. "I know you cannot say a single thing against the woman but I had hoped that your common sense might prevail and force you to do what was right, at least in this case! You have only made things worse-"
Raoul's temper ignited.
"Worse? Worse?! Explain to me how things could have possibly been any worse than they were?!" he snapped, and the words unleashed from somewhere within him. Suddenly, they were no longer directed at Nadir- they were intended entirely for Erik. "You did not have to stand and watch her turn mad with self-loathing and confusion as she attacked and smashed her own reflection! You did not hear her screaming and crying and begging for you to return in the night, and you did not have to lay there in the dark and know that you could do nothing to help her! You did not surrender the claims to the woman you love and have loved since childhood only to then be the only one left when the man who claimed to love her left her because he was too scared and too SELFISH to face up to the consequences of yet another STUPID MISTAKE! You may be angry because I agreed to something foolish and caused you some discomfort but by God am I glad I did! Because at least I did SOMETHING to help her! At least I did not just run away and leave her!"
Raoul felt his anger begin to ebb away as soon as the words were out, but one look towards Erik made it perfectly clear that he was not going to accept Raoul's messy retort- his eyes burned with guilt but also with fury and again Raoul had to remind himself that he did not want to be scared of Erik, he did not want to return to that old sensation of needing to fight him.
"You think this constitutes a valid attempt to restore her happiness?" Erik asked, his voice dangerously soft. "Need I remind you of the last time she was in your care? If something had happened to her- if you had gotten yourself intoxicated and sold her to the highest bidder- I need not tell you what I would do! I thought you claimed to understand me- for someone who understands, you have made an irredeemable error! Is it truly so hard to comprehend that I did not want you to come chasing after me like some knight in shining armour?!"
"It isn't about what you want, Erik- this is and always has been about Christine!" Raoul dared to argue back. Nadir made an attempt to cut in, clearly seeing where this was headed and not wanting to witness Erik almost kill yet another person tonight, but for once Raoul could not stomach Erik's tireless angst and emotional drama. He did not want to be quiet like the stupid little boy he had once been- he had changed far too much for that. "You don't understand- she was so unhappy without you! If you had stayed and faced the consequences of your actions perhaps you might be able to comprehend that!"
Erik stormed up to Raoul and Raoul found that he was flinching, ready for whatever violent onslaught befell him. But Erik did not throttle him senseless as both he and Nadir were clearly expecting- his anger was cold and scornful and crushing. Christine made a noise, something between a gasp of protest and a sigh of exasperation, and Erik- whose entire being was always tuned to her, who would always respond to her every move- turned in a flash to look at her. For a moment, his burning yellow eyes met her own and he seemed to calm- she found the courage to reach her hand out towards him, her eyes still locked onto his own, pleading with him to stop. But as soon as her fingers brushed against his skin, he tore his arm away and refocused onto Raoul, relentless and burning with fury- Christine felt the sting of his rejection wash over her and cradled the hand that had dared to reach for him to her chest, as if it might betray her and gravitate towards him again.
"You are pathetic, Vicomte. You simply want to appease her, to always be the yes man, to never dare taint your perfect image in her eyes, securing your own favour at her expense." His voice was cold and dripping with disgust. "If this were truly about her then why would you endanger her so? What sort of idiot takes a woman on a mad trek around France? Did you failure last time not deter you? Have you not yet learned that you are UTTERLY incapable? Need I remind you that your interfering lead to Pali's death, or that your childish behaviour caused this problem in the first place, when little Raoul tried to play at being a man and then couldn't handle a glass of wine so sold his own fiancée to gypsies?!"
"So we are to play at that old game, are we Erik? Smearing the others reputation to better our own?" Raoul demanded, shaking Christine's grip so that he could fling his arms wide and point right into Erik's face, humiliating him as much as humanly possible. "You forget that I did not stalk her and terrify her and murder several people in some deluded attempt to force her to love me! How dare you say these things and remain so blind to your own failures?! You left her- you made her feel unwanted and hated and worthless! And Christine Daae does not deserve that! I love her, I would never do that to her! Perhaps I shall not be so noble- perhaps this farce of a friendship of ours is over because I refuse to let you ruin Christine as you have ruined yourself and everyone else who dares reach out to you!"
"Ah, intending to control her again and manhandle the situation again, are we, little fop?! Do you not recall how your last dabble in megalomania ended?!"
"Me, control her? That is rich coming from you, O.G., lying to her and pretending to be a complete stranger simply to cover up your dirty history!"
"At least I have greater self-respect than to give in to her as if she were a spoilt child in order to win cheap favour! I would sacrifice any favour for her sake, her wellbeing- but sacrifice has never been your forte, has it Raoul?! You could never bear to lose, could you? Tell me again how it felt to see her chose me, Vicomte! Tell me how your pride was slashed to pieces, because you lost to the angel in hell!"
"STOP!" Christine screamed at them, breaking between them and their awful words, pushing them apart- she was surprisingly strong and they both stumbled. "If you don't stop, I'll go mad!"
She turned to Raoul, seeing his cheeks dusted pink with the exertion of the argument, seeing that old light in his eyes that she had always disliked- the glee that came with conflict and competition. She remembered, how she had always felt repulsed by his delight at the thought of fighting for her, of slaying the Phantom, and seeing that now she felt as if she had been flung back into the days of the opera, as if she was once again that helpless soprano, stranded between two separate worlds colliding. And Erik- he looked nothing like the Erik she knew, but rather the angel and ghost she had known, in the past, in days of terror and fear and darkness. She did not want to return to those days- her heart refused to submit to it- she refused to be that helpless little girl ever again!
So, she turned again to Raoul and gently ushered him backwards, telling him with her eyes that she had to fight this battle herself this time. That the idolised image of Erik as being this perfect, wonderful man whom she adored could not continue- she had to face the truth. That he was not perfect.
"Don't speak to Raoul like that, Erik." She whispered, the words hard and cold. She did not move any closer to him, but simply turned to face him, needing the space and the distance to make him see that she was stood on her own two feet this time- that she was going to challenge him, and that he had to challenge her. He looked down at her, his expression blank, but something stirring in the depths of his eyes. "You have no right to criticise anything he has done- he has tried to do what he could to make me happy. And considering that you left me- that you abandoned me- I don't think you have the right to stand here and accuse him like this."
"These are not accusations, they are fact." Erik had never been spoken to in such a way before, not from Christine, and it made him feel uneasy- the spark of temper had returned, and whilst his heart resisted all thought of fighting with her, he found that he could not soften his words- that he didn't want to. "Your perfect fiancée whom you defend so readily has just as much to answer for as I- his jealousy, his meddling, his complete incompetence-"
"Erik, I don't care about that!" Christine exclaimed, bringing her hands to her temples and resisting the urge to scream at his ignorance. Still, he was fixated on the past- couldn't he see that she was sick of the past, that she wanted nothing more than to leave it behind completely?! "That was the past! What I care about is now and currently you are accusing Raoul of these things when it is you who is at fault! I don't care about the Vicomte and the Opera Ghost and the Opera Populaire and the soprano! I don't care about any of it! What I care about is who we are now!" she exploded. Erik looked genuinely taken aback by her words, as if they were the last thing he had been expecting to hear from her, and she took triumph from that- she would argue her point, make him understand, and then she would finally return to what was important; being by his side.
But then it dawned upon her just what he had said, the words replaying through her head, and she felt her face drain to white, that deep nagging paranoia which Raoul had managed to calm into nothing suddenly reignited, and roaring-
"Fiancée?" she echoed in a hollow voice. Raoul seemed to realise what had happened, and he turned in an instant to face Erik, trying to make him realise that with one thoughtless comment he had succeeded in completely destroying the fragile confidence Christine had managed to reconstruct after he had left her. "Fiancée?! After everything that has happened- after everything we have been through, after everything I have done and said and tried to show you- you would dare to say something so- so cheap?!" she doubled in on herself, squeezing her eyes shut. "You doubt me. After everything, you still doubt me and my feelings! You- you honestly think that I would renounce all I feel for you and- and simply go back to Raoul, go back to how things were? You honestly think that I am that HIDEOUS?! You think that my feelings for you are- are so easily forgotten, so meaningless?!"
Now she did move closer to him, staring up at him and willing him to speak, willing him to retaliate. She could barely even begin to comprehend this situation- she was consumed by the screaming voice in her head, the voice that shattered her confidence and her strength and threw her back to that dark and lonely place as the seven year old child, holding on to her dead fathers hand and screaming at him, begging him to not leave, to come back-
"Have you ever believed me, Erik? Have you ever trusted me?!" she screamed at him, all sense lost to the pain and confusion and the hurt of knowing that he hadn't ever believed her- that her demonstrations and words were never enough. "How can you ever claim to have loved me if you think that my feelings are so worthless?!"
The sanity was lost- Erik snapped.
"There is no point in screaming at me, Christine Daae!" he yelled, the words a torrent, vicious and trying to hurt, reaching out and gripping onto her shoulders, forcing her to look up at him, forcing her to see the madness in his eyes and hoping that it deterred her, willing her to recoil and scream. "Of course I doubt you! You, the shallow soprano, the stupid child, so taken with make believe and fantasy that if anything dared to threaten your perfect vision of the world you would not stand for it! No one has ever hurt me as you have! No one has ever made me hate myself as you have! I was never enough for you! The thought of loving me was so repulsive to you that you would not accept it, you physically refused to accept it, until Raoul tried to kill me and forced a reaction from you! So don't you dare to stand there, indignant and proud! You have given me every possible reason to doubt you!"
"What girl wouldn't struggle to accept that she was in love with a murdering psychopath?!" she screamed back at him, beating her fist against his chest and refusing to look at him even when he bent her backwards. At that point, Raoul reached for her and dragged her backwards, now sobbing. "Oh God, oh dear God, I hate you! I hate you! I gave you EVERYTHING! And it is still not enough! I will never be enough!"
Raoul had managed to pull her free of Erik's grip and now she writhed out of his hold as well, turning and running into the inn. Raoul did not need to be prompted- he ran after her, not even looking back towards Erik, who fell to his knees and began to sob, raw and ugly and choking as he realised that everything he had been so scared of, the very thing that had driven his stupid actions and made him half mad with fear of it, had happened- she hated him. He had taken her fragile emotions, her essence, her soul and he had crushed it, crushed her!
Nadir said nothing. He had thought that an argument between the two of them would have finally cleared the darkness, even been good for them, but this escalation he had not foreseen- when Raoul returned, he instantly looked towards him, his eyes asking the questions that his voice could not.
"She's locked herself in one of the rooms. She won't speak to me- she's completely hysterical, I have no idea what I can do-" He rounded on Erik then, grabbing him by the shoulders and dragging him up from the cobbles, shaking him, shouting at him, hoping to drive some sense into that mutilated skull of his. "Are you insane?! Do you want her to hate you?! She has been driving herself mad these past weeks, thinking that you didn't love her, thinking that if she could prove herself to you that you might accept her and come back to her. She shouldn't have to prove herself to you Erik! Why can't you realise that all you ever do is hurt her with your- your distrust?! You have crushed her!"
"I don't want her to prove herself! I don't want her to do anything, I am just- I am just so afraid of what I do to her!" He whispered the anger blown from him completely now. He shook Raoul off and moved away from both him and Nadir, removing his mask and tipping his head back in the rain, letting the droplets wash over every warped and twisted crevice and ugly mutilated piece of skin, all the while playing her words over and over through his head and realising- never had his ugliness come up in her words.
She hadn't asked him how she was supposed to love a man with a mutilated face, only how she was supposed to love a man who was evil. This hideous deformity, the thing he had always known to be the stain, the evil, the infernal ruin of everything good, was for once irrelevant- it made no difference in her eyes. But that meant something worse- it meant that her hatred was inspired by him, his actions, his ways. That it was actually his fault- that he couldn't simply hide behind a mask this time.
She truly had grown up. And he- he was as twisted as ever.
"It seems that everything I ever do, always results in her pain- my presence seems to bring disaster and destruction. Her memory loss was due to her association, her choice, to be with me- I want her, dear God I want her, but I am gunpowder and she is the flame, always the flame, always burning and putting my darkness to shame with her light. I love her- you know that I love her. But my love, it is like a disease! She deserves so much more. And she is right- I do doubt her. I doubt her every day. For why would she choose me? The past refuses to be silent- I cannot stop the echoes distorting everything, they refuse to be silenced!"
She was on the floor, recoiling from him, crying in terror and disgust with the mask intending to protect her held firm in her trembling grip. He couldn't control the fire that ripped through every vein, the emotion that was pouring from him- he was the gunpowder, she the flame, and he could not control the explosion. He could not stop himself from hurting her. He was a monster, a monster-!
"Erik." Raoul's voice pulled him sharply out of the rant and the trance and the thoughts that were so dark and confusing they threatened to engulf him. "You need to stop making choices for her. You need to accept that she loves you- you know that she does. Fail to believe her now and you will lose her forever. I promise you that. Your love for her is not a disease, or destined to bring misery upon you both- it is your constant belief that letting her go is the right thing to do that will destroy you both. You need her, and she needs you- you belong to one another, Erik. Those echoes will never stop. Your past will haunt you. But that should never stop you from living."
He saw her as he emerged from the edge of the stage, concealed in the cape of Don Juan, but his presence was unmistakable and she turned and looked towards him, her eyes wide and full of relief and acceptance and love- but that could not be, she must just be acting, she must simply be playing that part, being Aminta.
But when she sang, the disguise melted, and he knew it- he knew it from every soaring note that came from her, that she was Christine, singing to him, Erik. And every evil thought melted away- her light pierced the darkness. He was no longer stumbling blind- he could see. Only her, only Christine, always Christine-
"She- she didn't mention my face." He choked out, tears coming hot and fast, and turning to Raoul and Nadir, full ugly deformity exposed. Neither flinched, nor turned away. Neither seemed surprised, either. "She didn't care about that, it was- it was me that she hated. My actions, my words, me! Not my face-"
"And you really still doubt that she loves you?" Nadir asked softy. Erik's face looked that of a blind man seeing the sun breaking on the horizon for the first time, and he was weeping, weeping tears that for once were not sad in their origin, but were tears of joy. Pure joy. "Go to her. Go to her right now and break down that door if you have to- explain yourself, you stupid, stupid man and make her see that you love her."
Erik almost left the mask behind, laying in the dirt of the cobbles, but he knew that if he tried to go through the crowded inn with his face uncovered he would likely be killed. He ran across the yard and back into the inn, and Nadir turned away and looked up towards the sky, the rain calming and the clouds shifting to expose the gentle light of the moon and thousands of stars. He felt Raoul grip onto his shoulder and in a sudden and unashamed display of emotion, he suddenly embraced the stupid boy, slapping him on the back and knowing that Raoul understood this warped and pathetic apology that came from both himself and Erik.
"Do you think he will get through to her?" Raoul asked in a murmur, too full of emotion to speak properly. Nadir nodded once, curt and controlled again, embarrassed that he had not been able to contain his emotions.
"Yes. They love each other far too much. Which is part of the problem, Raoul, but is also a guarantee that whatever argument unfolds up there will end in acceptance." He sighed and let his shoulders sag, relieved that everything seemed to finally be coming to a close. "Come on. I am in dire need of a drink and I think that you are too, by the look on your face."
As Nadir and Raoul drowned their sorrows and exhaustion in the cheap house wine (which tasted more of vinegar than anything) Erik went flying up the backstairs of the inn, only needing to listen in silence for a moment before he identified the room where Christine had bolted herself in and shut everyone out- her crying was clearly audible from the corridor, making his heart ache for her and his own stupidity. He himself was hysterical, tearing down the corridor and hammering on her door with his fists, hearing her sobs only intensify.
"Christine!" he implored, voice cracking, just as it had when he lay on the floor next to the lake and watched her fall, watched her be carried away as he lay helpless. "Christine open the door!"
"Go AWAY Erik!" she choked the words out, on her knees against her own side of the door, hands splayed against the wood as if she were kneeling before him and begging him- the subservience seemed so stinging now, so degrading and worthless. "Do what you have always done, always wanted- just go now and leave me!"
"I won't leave you. I always try to, you are right, but I never can- Christine I cannot lose you again!" he begged her, placing his palms against the wood, not knowing that on the other side of the door she was doing the very same- it was just as if they were back in her old dressing room, gazing with either side of a mirror, so close yet so far away that it made them feel lonelier than ever.
"You already have!" she sobbed, getting up from the door and stumbling over to the bed- her legs were trembling far too much for her to be able to stand. She knocked a ceramic jug on the stand beside the bed and the sound of the crash from outside the room made Erik panic and begin to scrabble at the door handle, a madman, possessed by the need to get into that room. He found he had tears streaking down his cheeks.
"Christine, open the door!"
There was no response, just crying and choking, and Erik reached the end of his patience with the door handle- in one swift movement, he brought his foot against the wood and broke the lock, booting it open and storming straight into the room, the force making the door crash shut again behind him, frantic to see if she was alright. His eyes took in the broken jug, swept over her to see if there was any damage or blood, and then he moved towards her- she sprang up and stood her ground, staring up at him with anguished, furious eyes, so taut and tense that even every curl on her head seemed to stand on end, crackling with energy.
"Christine." Erik said, all the words mashing together and refusing to make sense- now that he had the chance to say it, he was stumbling and incapable and likely to completely ruin things! "Christine you have to let me explain, everything- you don't understand-!"
"No, no, for once don't make this about me! Because I do understand, perfectly well! It is you who does not understand- you!" she sobbed, shoving him so that he stumbled back a little. "I understand you and- and your complete lack of trust, or- or belief and how you feel about me! You have never trusted me, never believed me, never held my feelings as valuable or desirable and it is clear, Erik, that I am not good enough for you! You do not WANT me! So stop making this worse than it needs to be and leave me alone!"
"How can you say that?!" he demanded, seizing her shoulders and forcing her to look at him. "Of course I want you, of course- I could have died for wanting you! You don't understand Christine-"
"Stop saying that!" she screamed at him, writhing and flailing in his grip to be free. "I do understand! I do understand because I want you, Erik, I have wanted you since before I can remember! My entire body gravitates towards you- I have driven myself mad with wanting for you, chasing after you, hoping to find you simply because I cannot be without you! But you do not believe me- you think that my feelings aren't true, that they are nothing! How can you think that?!"
"I am an ugly monster from hell, always shunned, always forgotten, and you ask me how I can doubt your love?!" he shouted in return, temper lost again to the fire that came with arguing with her. "My own mother was too disgusted to embrace me, to kiss me- even you screamed in my face, cowered in terror, fled into the arms of your beautiful Vicomte and left me there to rot in the dark and you wonder why I doubt you, Christine?! Everything I have done- all this deceit, and cruelty, and lies- has been out of sheer terror, at the thought of losing you again!"
"Because you do not trust me!" she was beyond the point of reason now, the words coming uncontrollably, falling from her lips. "You held such little faith in my feelings that you felt the need to lie to me and pretend to be someone else- you held such little trust in me, such little belief! When I told you I loved you, did you believe me? When I kissed you, did you think I was tricking you somehow?!"
She managed to get free of his grip but stayed there, looking up at him, wanting him to see it all play out in her eyes and see him realise what he had done to her- what he had destroyed.
"You really think that I am still that shallow soprano, Erik. You don't trust me at all. You don't know me at all. And what has become clear these last few weeks, is that you don't want me. Not really. Because you keep pushing me away and- and that is not love, Erik! Love is trust, and sharing, and- and believing that someone can love your imperfections. And you don't!"
"You know nothing- these fanciful notions would not spring to your lips now if you knew me, knew my past, and knew what I am capable of!" Now it was his turn to be angry and he did so in spectacular fashion, his eyes burning with the ferocity of the past self that he now described. "How can I believe that you might love a man who haunted you, controlled you, terrified you? How can I believe that you would love a villain like me, a monster, whose face is merely the prelude to the full warped darkness that lies beneath?!"
"Because I told you that I love you!" she exploded. "That should be enough Erik! THAT SHOULD BE ENOUGH!"
The air and silence crackled between them, and Christine began a mad pace across the floor, her skirts tangling round her trembling legs and forcing her to stop and stand still, before returning to that first position, before Erik, staring up at him. The words were not raging and uncontrolled this time- they were sure and certain and even more heart breaking for it.
"I was told about the Phantom, the Opera Ghost. I have even recalled some of it myself. I went to your home beneath the opera and I uncovered so much, so many things- I pieced together your life. And what I took from that was not a graphic account of every man you have ever killed or even the justification for it. What I found from that moment is that I love you. That whatever form you take, whether you are man, or angel, or even monster, it is simple fact that I love you. That understanding made me realise so much, made me certain that you and I could be happy, that if we fought for our happiness it would be worth so much more, but you have crushed that. You have crushed that hope and with it, you have crushed me." She turned her head away from him, the line drawn and the point made- he had lost her. "Because you know, Erik, that I have tried. I have tried so very much to stop being that stupid soprano, and to become someone that might be worthy of you. I've tried and tried so hard and- and it isn't enough. I can't make you accept me or my love. I can't make you love me."
There was a roaring sound in Erik's ears, the realisation that she was slipping through his fingers, the thought that it was true- he really was losing her. He reached out to try and bring her back- his fingers pulled her face back towards his own, barely centimetres apart, breath kissing his skin and making him dizzy and stumbling and fighting for air-
"You- you honestly think that I don't love you." He repeated, his voice soft and disbelieving. "Oh, Christine, you- you truly are the most ridiculous-"
She was so close to him, the flame teasing the fuse of the gunpowder, and for a moment the words ran dry and he stood frozen, staring at her. Then it lit.
Erik seized her face in his hands and brought his lips firmly onto her own, clasping her beauty between his fingertips, slipping deeper into the wild mane of her curls, tasting the sweetness and the salt of her tears. He could feel her writhing, feel her fighting to get free, and she broke away from him with a wild gasp, her cheeks dusted with colour, her eyes bright with confusion and yet that inescapable joy-
"I always used to think of Faust- Holy Angel in Heaven blessed, my spirit longs with thee to rest-" he was murmuring, his voice thick and full of emotion, the words crazed, and his eyes- his eyes were burning! "But, oh God, how wrong to think of dying! To always think of the end-! I do not want to die with you Christine- I want to live!"
Half mad, half hysterical, he took her face in his hands again and kissed her but this time those soft rose petal lips did not resist him- she responded, her mouth warm and sweet, and he gave a cry and seized her in his arms, fisting her hair, stepping into her and her arms and her presence and falling- falling against the bed and all the while not letting go of her, never letting go.
Where once his resolve had been to never go into these uncharted waters, now that burn had consumed him and he found he could not stop- hungrily, his lips moved from her lips to her cheek, her jawline, her neck, and then lower, brushing the still damp material of her dress aside to expose the never-ending bliss of that creamy skin, which still felt warm and smelt of roses, no matter that she was drenched from the rain. The sensation of her wet curls brushing against his skin was heavenly.
All Christine could think was that this was the furthest thing from those animalistic and intrusive activities of the gypsy clan- where Emilian had made her freeze and shrink away, Erik's touch left fire in its wake. It was beautiful- not ugly. And so was he.
She pushed the mask from his face, wanting to be as close to him as possible, caressing those mutilated and warped twists of skin, sitting up slightly so that she could press her lips to every scar and crevice and mass of deformed tissue. She brushed his wet shirt from his shoulders, needing the contact of skin against skin, shivering as Erik's hands- always delicate, always gentle and precise- gave up with the ties of her dress and simply ripped the material away from her skin-
Their eyes met, their ragged breaths almost in synchrony, and Christine reached up from where she lay, hair splayed out around her, cheeks hectic and pink, to touch his marred cheek again. And before he could press his lips again to hers, before the slow burning flame of their love and their passion could at last be ignited into that roaring inferno and consume them entirely, she spoke-
"Never leave me again." The whisper barely broke through the shimmering darkness between them, but to Erik it was the spark- he moved over her and took her again in his arms-
"Never."
Oh, stars, and dreams, and gentle night; Oh, night and stars return!
And hide me from the hostile light, That does not warm, but burn;
That drains the blood of suffering men; Drinks tears, instead of dew;
Let me sleep through his blinding reign, And only wake with you!