The Crystal Rainbow

An Alternate Universe – Phantom of the Opera Story

Nyasia A. Maire

© 2007

DISCLAIMER: I do not hold the rights nor did I create any characters found in The Phantom of the Opera or Phantom, nor have I received monetary compensation for writing this story.

Dreams transport one each night to the places needed by the soul
to heal the battering it endures during each day.

A Fool's Book of Wisdom

Chapter Eight – Dreams

Helen nonchalantly observed the two young people as they at first verbally jousted with one another and then her eyes widened slightly as they collapsed into fits of laughter.

"Merde! This is becoming much more serious than I originally thought. I sense that they feel close to one another. It is almost as if they have met before, but that is not possible. Is it?"

"At last! At first, I thought the bloody train would never arrive and then I began to think it would never leave. You can tell that no member of the aristocracy is a passenger on this train by the fact that it is running two and one-quarter hours late. Well, I suppose I should not grumble too loudly. At least we were able to use the time to procure sustenance for our famished bodies. Speaking of which, Erik, pass the bottle here or at the very least be a good lad and refill my cup."

Helen grumbled. Erik and Christine's eyes met over the old woman's head and they exchanged an indulgent smile over her belligerent behavior.

"If this is the way people act once they have lifted one too many mugs, I do believe I shall stick to tea." Christine muttered.

"Hear! Hear!" Erik quietly intoned before he added. "I do believe that the expression is 'being too deep in one's cups,' but the gist of both statements boils down to the same sentiment."

Christine could not suppress a giggle and Helen shot her an indignant glance before extending her hand to Erik.

"Come now, garçon! Pass the bottle! I earned a drink or two after that walk."

The young man lifted the bottle from the basket and handed it to Helen. The old woman promptly tipped the bottle into her mug and its contents noisily sloshed out.

"Fuck!"

Helen's normally lovely voice lowered into a snarl as drops of the burgundy splattered on her shirtsleeve. Christine gasped and Erik winced at her choice of words, but the old woman ignored the two young people. She held the bottle out to Erik and he swiftly returned it to the basket.

Christine tried unsuccessfully to hide her yawn, but was too tired to try and fight off the call of slumber.

"I think I will try to take a nap." Christine announced.

Erik smiled at her and nodded.

"That sounds like an excellent idea to me as well. Helen, if you need anything, just give me a little shake. Otherwise, I am fairly certain I shall sleep for the entire trip. Is that all right with you?"

"I do not need a bleeding nanny, Erik! You know how I detest it when you hover. I just need to take off these bloody shoes and rest my feet for a bit. You two go to sleep! I will be just fine!"

Helen lifted her hand and waggled it dismissively at the pair as she lifted her cup with the other to take a sip. She failed to notice the light, which glinted off the bracelet around her wrist. The merest of twinkling sparkles, the flash caught Erik and Christine's eyes and burrowed deep into their minds and souls. Then, as if placed under an enchantment, in an instant, the young man and woman fell into a deep sleep. Their bodies fell limply, rested in boneless heaps propped up by the firm benches and walls of the train compartment. Helen struggled forward and wrestled one-handed with the laces of her shoes for a moment, before acknowledging defeat. She slumped back into her seat, clutching the cup between her ample bosoms and closed her eyes. Soon, a soft snore began to issue from the slit of her mouth.

Except for the quiet whistling of the old woman's breath and the clacking of the train's wheels upon the tracks, silence reigned in the compartment.

It was at that moment when a delicate stream of glittering light moved from the bracelet. It swept through the air, encasing first Christine and then Erik in its insubstantial cocoon. The soft radiance remained and pulsed in time with the rise and fall of each breath brought to the two dreamers held in its embrace.

She sat upon a large carpet. The intricate design as familiar to her as the sight of her own hands. She relished the softness of it and cherished the beauty of the maroon swirls, the crème spots, the powder blue lines, the pink roses and the midnight blue of its border. She marveled in the knowledge that such a seemingly sturdy rug could be made of such a delicate fiber as silk, but she knew it was true. She sat and she waited. She waited. She waited for him to come to her. And, as she always did when she waited for him, she sang. The songs were always different, yet, always the same in that they always spoke of love lost or unrequited love. Tears burned beneath her eyelids. It had been such a long time since she last sat and waited for him. So long a time since she last looked upon him and sang for him.

"Mon Dieu! How I have missed him! Even though he irritates me to no end, I have longed to see him, craved to hear the sound of his voice and yearned for the touch of his hands upon my flesh. I miss his amber eyes burning into mine …. I wonder if he has missed me or thought of me at all."

And then, she felt him. He was with her. She knew that he stood in the doorway of the room behind her. The tall, lanky boy with the tear-streaked face and lonely eyes. The boy that possessed the voice of an angel and the temper of a demon. He was her gentle playmate one moment and a harsh taskmaster the next. She turned her head, so she could catch a glimpse of him in the periphery of her vision. She wished to fulfill a need to allow her eyes to fully explore the boy, but instead, found a man standing in the boy's place. A man with the same glowing amber eyes and twisted face as the boy she once knew. The unexpected change of the boy into a man caused her eyes to drop involuntarily to her lap and she let out a small shriek of surprise and shock. Her body was no longer hers, but belonged to a woman. She leapt to her feet, her hands running over the firm high mounds of her breasts and down over the flat expanse of her stomach. Her hands slid out to the sides of her tiny waist before moving down and out over the gentle swell of her hips. Her hands froze as she realized that the man watched her, as she silently explored her body. The heat of his gaze penetrated her shock and brought a corresponding flush to her cheeks, which rapidly spread down her neck, across her chest, ending at the tips of her hardened nipples. The two nubs poked noticeably outward from her simple silk shift and her blush deepened further. Her eyes slipped to the floor and her head lowered in shame and embarrassment.

"He must think me a wanton creature to touch my body in such a manner. It was just such a shock! I am a woman now and he is a man. Is he still my Erik? Oh, please …."

And, then a gentle hand touched her chin and raised her head. Amber eyes met hers and she knew they were falling. Their minds plummeting and twisting, diving and turning together like two motes floating through the air on a lazy summer's afternoon. After a moment, he surprised her as he withdrew from the spiraling vortex created when their eyes met. She fell alone, but could see him watching her from far above. His amber eyes burned gold allowing her easily to read the fear in their depths. The whirling ceased and she once again felt the solid floor beneath her feet.

"What could he possibly have to fear?"

He stood before the girl that was and stared intently into the eyes of the woman that is. His gaze broke from hers and moved lower. Erik marveled as he took in the lovely curves and swells of her womanly form and he inwardly rejoiced at the complete trust he read in her eyes. And when her hands began to move over her body, he had to remind himself to breathe.

"I want … no, I need her!"

And then, he watched as her hands suddenly pulled away from her body and ceased their intimate examination. A blush suffused her cheeks and then ran down the graceful arch of her throat. The wave of color continued its downward journey to vanish beneath the silk of her smooth shift. Her eyes widened and she lowered her head to stare intently at the floor, the delicate, light pink flush, which colored her skin deepened into a burning crimson. He felt her confusion become his as he suddenly recognized her shame.

"Why is she ashamed? She has nothing of which she need be ashamed. She is beautiful. No, she is more than beautiful. She is perfect. Perhaps, she feels her actions were inappropriate, too wanton, but how can an angel commit a sin? It cannot. It is a simple impossibility for this angel to fall into the trap of earthly weaknesses."

As if from somewhere outside of his body, he watched as he raised his hand to cup her chin and lift her head, so he could gaze deep into her eyes. He trembled slightly, a wave of fear crashing over him.

"What if it is not shame I saw in her eyes? I am not infallible, nor am I well-versed in the ways of women. What if the emotion I read in her eyes is fear? Perhaps, this angel fears me. She knows what lies beneath my mask and I could not fault her for finding me hideous. Indeed, I find my own face repugnant. How shall I live knowing that the sight of my face sickens her? Could the child that once accepted me so completely, grow into a woman that finds me utterly repulsive? Do I really wish to hear an answer to that question? Oh, no!"

His body jerked in sudden shock.

"No! Oh gods, no! My face. My face! Is it? Mon Dieu! It is …."

His hand quickly lifted to touch the right side of his face. A small, despairing wail escaped his lips as his hand landed on mangled flesh and not the smooth surface of his mask. He frantically whipped about, turning his back to her to shield his angel from the sight of his horror. He desperately wished he could rend the offensive parody, which masqueraded as his face, from his body, but knew he could not subject his angel to a fit of his madness. He fell to his knees, closed his eyes and raised his arms before his face. He sat there his mind drowning in the pain of his self-loathing waiting for the sound of the words he knew would come. The words, which would banish him forever from the presence of his angel. He waited, but the words did not come. Instead, the touch of gentle hands came, first on his shoulders and then ran down the length of his arms. As the hands touched his wrists, the descent ended and they slowly began to retrace their path upwards. Up and down, tracing a soft, yet fiery trail along the sides of his arms. His ragged breathing began to calm, allowing him to realize that the room was no longer quiet.

His angel was singing to him.

He lowered his arms and lifted his head to find her face so close to his that he could feel her soft exhalations upon the flesh of his ruined cheek. He spoke without thinking.

"Oh! Mon Dieu! I want …."

Christine refused to allow her body to give into its almost overpowering urge to quiver and quake at the unexpected nearness of Erik's face to her own. His burning eyes drew her as if she were a moth and he the flame. And when he lifted his tortured gaze to hers and spoke of his desire, she surrendered to the urgent tug of gravity and secretly rejoiced as her mouth crashed downwards onto his. The deep connection she felt, combined with her undeniable attraction to the man caused her lips to move desperately against his still mouth. She felt him resist and attempt to draw away, but her hands moved upwards and caught in his hair. Feeling as if she had nothing to lose and the possibility of everything to gain, the inexperienced young woman followed the call of her heart, and the pounding desire of her blood as her tongue darted across his lips. Erik moaned against the rasp of her tongue. Christine seized the opportunity and deepened their kiss. And still, he did not respond to her invasion of his mouth. He simply allowed her to explore him with her tongue, until a whimper of desire escaped from deep inside her. As his ears heard and then his mind understood, the walls he had built around his heart collapsed. Erik's arms wrapped tightly about the waist of his angel. He allowed his mouth to move against hers and his tongue erotically dueled with hers. The two became lost within the music pounding its beat in time to the rhythm of their hearts. Christine's need for oxygen soon required her to release her lips from the man's, but she did not withdraw completely. She leaned her forehead upon his, her mouth rested lightly against his, as she gasped. Hearing Erik's labored breathing, caused her heart to soar and a thought passed through both of their minds at the same time.

"He wants me!"

"She wants me!"

As their bodies calmed, the desire began to rise once more and the two sets of lips locked together again. Two sets of arms began to draw the body they held, closer. Two sets of hands began their urgent exploration of the unknown.

And, then a voice intruded into their passion.

"Erik! Christine! Wake up!"

They held each other tighter, but the voice became more and more insistent and an outside force began to drive a wedge between them. A moan of frustration escaped both their mouths at the same moment.

"Wake up! What is wrong? Christine! Erik! Really! Wake up! Do I need to fetch a pail of cold water and throw it on the two of you? What on earth is going on here?"

Author's Note: Well, the story just got a little hot. Please realize that I added chapters like this for the enjoyment of your prurient pleasure! I definitely did not originally create this story to contain a romance, but I think it works. What do you think? Fondest wishes, --ny