I deeply apologize for the wait. Things have been busy around here and it didn't help that I had a band trip to go to in CA...(grrr) ANYWAYS...That and my internet connection has been stupid again and turns off often. Luckily it was on and I am able to bring you the next chappy! WOO!
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Phantom of the Opera...but I own my story so for that I am happy!
Part Fifty-four:
"Christine…!" Erik gasped, the air seemingly disappearing from his lungs as though he had received a sharp blow to the chest. His hand clasped over his heart as it sped through its frantic beats, trying to get his hot blood through his body. He felt extremely hot, yet amazingly cold as he stared and stared at his Angel. Christine. She smiled faintly as she stared at him. "I thought…you were dead." She confessed suddenly. Erik's legs felt like jelly as he grasped a chair for support. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening! "So Madame Giry did put the ad in the L'Epoque's obituary," he mused, blank minded, "I shall have to thank her…." Christine's eyes suddenly filled with tears. "Why?" she asked him. "Why would you put that in if you aren't dead?" Pain slashed through his gut as he stared at her coldly, frantically trying to recover himself. He would not be seen as a babbling, hurting idiot begging for what he wanted. What he needed. "You wish me dead?" he spat, his shock and pain numbing away as anger soared once more through his veins. This was more like him. He would let this cold, indifferent side talk.
"You honestly think I would die so easily?" He stared at her with apathetic eyes as his heart continued to pound. Christine's hand covered her mouth as her jaw dropped. "No, Erik!" she cried in defense. "I thought you were dead!" Erik started to open his mouth before the sound of footsteps far off cut him off. Wide eyed he pointed an accusing finger at Christine. "Who have you brought?" he demanded wildly, "The police?" She shook her head frenetically. "I brought no one!" Erik's fists clenched. "You are foolish to come alone, then." He took a menacing step towards her but stopped when a figure burst through the door. "Christine!" A harassed looking Raoul came forward into the light, jumping as he saw Erik. "You!" they both gasped in unison. Raoul dashed for his sword at his belt while Erik stood, gawking at them both. Why? Why were they here? Surely this must be another punishment from God to pay for an unspoken crime. Out loud, though, Erik spoke quite menacingly. "Slash at me with that sword, boy, and I shall personally gut you." Christine looked at him with pure fear that embedded itself in his heart. Raoul observed the ominous figure with a look of loathing but kept his hand at ready.
"Erik…" Christine pleaded, "No violence, please. I couldn't bear if-.." Erik cut her off. "If your perfect husband got injured," He finished nastily. Raoul glared at him, placing a protective hand on his wife's shoulder. "At least I protect her!" he hissed. Erik smirked. "You're not doing a very good job, are you?" Christine looked back and forth between the two men, wringing her hands together. "Stop it!" she cried out loudly. "Stop, Erik! Raoul!" Raoul fell silent but glared at Erik whose chest was heaving with vehemence. "Why?" he demanded of both of them. "Why did you come down here? How did you know I was even here?" He stared desperately at Christine. "What could you possibly want?" Raoul glanced down at his wife with an odd expression. "Why did you come down here, Christine? You could have been hurt!"
"I saw you, Erik," she began hesitantly, "upstairs in the ball room. I couldn't believe it was you!" She looked up at Raoul with pained eyes. "I had to know if he was real. If he was still alive down here."
Lark slept restlessly for merely a few minutes but she tossed and turned in her bed, nightmares marring her usually pleasant dreams into beacons of fear and loneliness. She was racing down a tunnel in one, but the light at the end got farther and farther while the tunnel closed in on her. Next, she was with Erik and Mama, but then Mama disappeared. Frantic she turned to Erik. 'We must find her!' she cried, but to her horror, Erik just looked at her and disappeared as well. Darkness came forward like the oceans harsh, wild waves and strangled her. Pulling her down….down…. "Nooooo!" Lark sat up suddenly, drenched with sweat and shivering all over. She squinted around the familiar room and laid back with a trembling sigh. She was still here…and Erik was, too. But Mama…tears formed at the corners of the child's eyes. Mama was gone forever, and all she had was her mask to remind her of her mother. Absently, Lark reached under her pillow to grasp the silky porcelain mask, in hope it would give her comfort. But her hand touched nothing but the smooth, cool sheets. Lark's eyes widened with shock and she gave out a startled cry. "No!" she gasped, sitting up and throwing her pillow off the bed.
The dove white under sheet was the only thing that met her weakened eyes and she ran a hand over the sheets with a shaky hand. "Mama…" she whispered as her mouth went dry. "Mama, where are you?" Lark poked her head under the bed and sat back up to remove the sheets. The black mask was no where to be found. Wavering slightly, she swung her legs over the bed onto the thick carpet, holding the pole for balance as she almost tipped over. "Mama!" she half whispered, half screamed. Racing to the closet, she wrenched open the doors and started to dig with a fevered cadence. Not here…not here….Mama was not here…was she ever here? "I must stop and think!" she said feverishly, trying to calm herself down. "If I think of where I've been today, I'll find Mama!" Quickly her brain racked through the day scene by scene. "When did I last have Mama?" she asked herself. Then it hit her. She had taken the mask off at the Masquerade and had left it on her seat! With a cry, Lark raced for the door and threw it open, planning to run upstairs and fetch Mama without delay!
Voices stopped her at her door, though, and she grasped the doorframe hard. There were people in here…
"Why?" Erik yelled, tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. "Why can't you leave me alone?" So much pain! So much pain and agony as he looked up at Christine with imploring eyes. When she had explained that she had seen him, and recognized him, he was horrified and yet…strangely pleased. But it all came crashing down when she uttered coldly. "I wanted to make sure you weren't down here, running the Opera under a threatening, unfeeling fist. You can't continue those ways any longer!" Raoul had released her as she had stepped forward and had taken a step back closer to the door. Erik, in shock, asked her numbly if that is what she thought of him…as a cruel man who wanted only the power and money of the Opera. "I cannot think of you that way," Christine said slowly, "But I also cannot have you continuing to live under the Opera's house, ready to take over when the time comes!" Here, Erik fell to his knees. He could never live normally, yet she says she will send police down here if he should continue to live down under the cellars. "What do you want me to do?" he yelled. "What do you want me to do?"
"Not live where you can harm people anymore." She said, and with those words, Erik felt that he could have laid down and died. He hunched over on his hands and knees, gasping for the air he could not get into his lungs. A small creak of a door came through the room and Raoul and Christine whirled around, Christine hiding a muffled yelp of horror. "Oh no, Erik…." She gasped. With fear waterlogged in his heart, Erik raised his head and also stared with a mixture of horror and pain. "Erik..?" Little Lark peered through the door and stared at the newcomers. "Erik, who are they…?" Erik's throat clogged with horrified alarm as the child squeezed into the room, her nightshift ruffled and hanging loose, almost off one bare shoulder. She peered with frightened, squinted eyes at the Vicomte and his wife. Christine's voice sounded dull and hollow as she turned to Erik.
"What have you done?"
Tell me what you think and I'll see if the reviews help Erik along in this tough time, right Erik? (Gets Punjabbed)
Erik: (smirks) Right, authoress. (puts Punjab away)