Hey everyone! Several of you responded quickly to the last chapter (awww, thanks so much! you guys make me want to keep posting) and so when 13 people reviewed on the thirteenth chapter I figured 'what the heck' and thought I'd update. Well that and a healthy session with my muse meant I had something ready to post. And I was bored. And I'm really excited about what I have planned. Hope you don't mind :)
A thousand hugs to reviewers!
DragonheartRAB: actually, Hallmark makes a teddy bear set like that so I can't claim any patents (hey, originality is the art of concealing your sources j/k). Thank you!
gavvie: hee hee, little more Philippe today too. and yes, you'll just have to wait and see if Christine's 'mortality status' changes -:grin:- Thank you!
I am the Angel of Music: He's gone, sorry. I've always wanted to see the 1925 version but I haven't been able to find it. Does your story make more sense if you've seen it? I'll have to go find out...Thank you!
VictorianDream: Gotta love the plushies. :) Thank You!
Killer Veggies: Aww shucks. Glad you like it! Thank you!
Kitty Felone: Yep, I killed him. More Philippe ahead! (btw, still working on it, misplaced my file for a bit and it's hard to look something over when you can't find it but yeah, problem solved now). Thank you!
Emmanuelle Lisselle Grey: I suppose you're right, not a lot really happened in the last one, just some info. I hope this chapter has a little more zing to it! Thank you!
cm1000: the plushies are yours, my friend. yeah, a few people seemed to like our goodbuddy the Persian. Thank You!
phantomgoddess34: yeah, I think Raoul just gets the short end of the stick, poor guy. Philippe's just got a way about him, doesn't he? ;) Thank You!
Midnight Tango: Yay for obsessions! They lead to things like this story! Btw, the fishing idea helped (sugar cookies seem to be my muse's favorite). Thank you!
Elizabeth: yummy cyber-cookies...Aww shucks. Thank you so much!
lazy.kender: yeah, Nadir's death drew quite a few comments. I never realized his fan base was quite so large. :) Thank You!
Thereinsidemymind: Hi there! Heh heh, glad to have caught your attention and thank you very much! (hope this was a soon enough update!)
Sorry this section is a little shorter but it seemed a logical place to break it (that and the next part just isn't out of my head yet).
Take care, everyone.
Christine met her gaze in the mirror and stared back into her own red eyes. No matter how many times she searched the mirror, it was still empty. Was she finally going crazy? Seeing things in the mirror, least of all the Phantom of the Opera, was not a promising sign. After finally eradicating the constant pangs of depression in favor for short private moments, she was not willing to step back into that world. It was a joy to see Erik again but, just as she had told him, it was harder once he'd left.
He looked exactly as Christine remembered: the mask was obviously unchanged, same fierce blue eyes, same well-groomed jet black hair, same rich voice that still spoke in her dreams… Despite how he had died, his spirit still held his same lithe and muscular form, seemingly unmarred. His disposition hadn't exactly changed much either. And what had she expected after leaving him in the dank orifices of the opera house, broken and bleeding?
Christine sighed lightly. Perhaps she was being selfish, trying to wish Erik back again. He was still dead after all; seeing him in a mirror had failed to change that. But she couldn't help but guiltily admit that she wanted to see him again, just for a little while longer.
Sighing yet again, Christine flopped unceremoniously on her bed, ignoring the complaints of the metal springs. Covering her eyes with a free hand, she tried to digest all the new information she'd received. It seemed impossible for one person to have lived such a lonely life; if anyone deserved eternal peace, it was Erik.
Pulling her mind away from discursive thoughts, Christine leaned over and lifted the cover from the tray Ella had brought earlier. Picking absently at a piece of cold chicken, she couldn't help but guiltily blame Ella; had she not chosen that moment to bring her gift, perhaps Erik would still be there. She berated herself once more for selfish thoughts then pulled the covers over her head to fall into a restless sleep.
Eventually succumbing to truth that she could not remain in bed forever, she pulled off the covers and readied herself for a new day. Pulling her cloak closer around face, she braved the fierce winds of the chilly Parisian streets and set about her task.
∞†∞
The afternoon passed slowly for Erik and it seemed no volume in his library could reduce the ennui that threatened to smother his mind. No matter how he tired to convince himself otherwise, his thoughts drifted all too often to Christine who was again proving to be that which he could never entirely forget. And the clock was indeed functioning properly, albeit too slow for his tastes.
"You know, pocket watches don't run any faster if you check them more frequently. The easiest way to speed up time is to twist that little knob on the side and move the hands yourself." Erik rolled his eyes at Philippe's suggestion but didn't falter in his pacing.
It wasn't difficult for Philippe to pinpoint the source of Erik's restlessness and what he intended when the hands of the clock did reach an acceptable hour. "Relax Erik. I assume she'll return to the same room she stayed in last night, I mean all of her stuff is already there and believe me, the gentry enjoy convenience." Philippe watched as Erik continued to march to and fro, sighing at the other man's anxiety. "Sit down. I'm tired just from watching you. Oh, I have an idea: while we're waiting you could fill me in on the details of your last encounter that you've been so reluctant to talk about." His efforts were rewarded with a significant look from under the notorious mask but nothing more. "Fine, fine. Just find something else to occupy yourself. Time will move on eventually."
Philippe returned his attention to his book when Erik again refused to reply though he did seat himself in front of his organ to leaf through several pages…until the thunder of a multitude of hammers provoked his agitation further. After uttering something between a sigh and an angry grunt, Erik stood and seized his lasso as he made his way toward the dark catacombs.
"Wait! You're not going to wreak some havoc without me, are you?" Philippe called as he chased after him.
"I'm feeling nostalgic, a good old fashioned scare I think," Erik threw over his shoulder in a casual tone.
In mock awe, Philippe followed, "You mean I'll have the opportunity to see the Phantom at work?"
"The Phantom of the Opera is dead but ghosts come in many forms. Come."
Philippe quickened his step and nearly lost his footing several times on the clammy stone before light suffused into the tunnel once more. He was nearly out of breath by the time Erik halted long enough in his twisting and climbing route to allow for any sort of rest or conversation.
"So how is it done?" Philippe asked in a stage whisper, still panting slightly.
The corners of Erik's mouth quirked, "You'll see."
Moments later, the frightened screams of men echoed across the acoustically built walls as the workers scrambled over each other, madly racing for the door. Amidst the chaos, two unfortunate men were assumed trampled to death when their comrades finally dared to return and identify their bodies.
Philippe was still laughing merrily when they had returned to the lair, delighted with the scene of pandemonium he had just witnessed. "Ha, I've never seen such superstitious fools and they were grown men! It doesn't take much to send a chill of terror down their spines, now does it?"
"No, I suppose not."
"And look, another hour gone, see? All you had to do was find a worthwhile hobby. I might have to look more into this one myself."
Erik rolled his eyes at Philippe's boyish enthusiasm but would not deny that he rather enjoyed the sport.
After an agonizingly slow afternoon, the sky finally darkened to a bearable level and Erik immediately drew his cloak across his shoulders.
"Don't worry, I won't wait up for you," Philippe called over his book. "Honestly, I don't know why you don't just bring her back here. I'll kidnap a priest and save you the trouble. He can be Christine's first meal after the ceremony."
Erik said nothing, though he had secretly wished it could be so. With a swish of his cape, he shifted into the form of a bat and took off soundlessly into the sky.
After a brief but enjoyable flight, Erik soon found himself in front of Christine's inn as his anxiety returned tenfold. Melting into a shadow in front of her window, Erik slid under the broken frame and, after assuring himself that the room was empty, solidified into human form again.
His sharp ears detected a mighty ruckus in the hallway and he calmly stepped into the mirror. The tip of his cape had just swished in behind him as the door burst open. Seconds later, two men struggled with the great mass of the finest marble money could buy and set down their heavy burden where Christine had directed them, a few feet from the mirror. The men wiped their brows and stretched strained muscles while Christine thanked the two of them profusely and paid them what looked a well-deserved amount before dismissing them.
Christine struggled with the piece briefly, angling it so she could read the inscription better. Erik glanced over her shoulder and read Philippe's name etched in the stone along with a few endearing words. Christine stood and glanced at the mirror as she walked by; her face instantly brightened.
"Erik! You came back!"
"I wanted to see you again," he replied honestly as he hid his smile at her obvious delight.
She faced the mirror fully; her soft eyes glimmered with restrained tears stemmed from her relief. "I was afraid you'd left me for good. I don't want to lose you again, Erik. I missed you. I love you."
Erik froze in place; this meeting was moving more differently than he could have ever guessed. Surely his ears were deceiving him; such an elegant woman as Christine, a child who walked in the light of day, could not have said such words to a man condemned to live as an unearthly demon. He must have heard wrong, though he could not deny the hope that swelled in his chest that perhaps his dreams were not so impossible as he'd forced himself to believe. "W-what did you say?" Erik asked in a quiet tone, slightly disgusted that he could not maintain a mask of nonchalance nor rid his voice of tremors.
Christine's face shifted from a content smile to an expression of concern. "What's wrong, Erik?"
"Nothing's wrong," he assured her hastily, though with his voice more controlled. "What did you say?"
"I said I love you, Erik," she replied in a soft voice. "I only wish that I could have told you when you were alive. It's too late now." Tears accumulated in her eyes once more but she made no movement to impede the gentle flow down her smooth cheeks. "I should have told you. I was just so confused…" Christine broke off and averted her gaze to the tombstone once more.
Attempting to allow his reeling mind a moment to regain itself and further fight the temptation to leave the mirror in order to consol her or just to hold her, Erik changed the subject: "Was that stone the reason you came to town?"
She nodded and closed her eyes, not trusting her voice nor finding anything worth saying.
"Does that mean you'll be leaving?"
Christine shook her head. "I don't see why I'd have to leave yet. Raoul," Erik grimaced slightly at the name, "doesn't expect me back for another few days. I can enjoy Paris for a little while longer." She quieted again before hesitantly asking a question: "Erik, is it possible for you to visit with me at the de Chagny estate?"
"I doubt that your fiancé would welcome my presence there."
"I suppose you're right. It was silly to ask."
A thick layer of silence settled over the room once more as both mulled over several thoughts, broken only by an ungainly THUD as the gravestone succumbed to gravity and toppled over. Christine knelt down and struggled to right the cumbersome rock and succeeded after smashing a few delicate fingers. When she turned back to the mirror, her gaze fell upon a red rose fitted with a black ribbon—a prize he'd kept safely in his jacket pocket, seemingly no worse for the wear—now sitting on the table.
"Erik, how did you do that?" she asked automatically.
"Christine, do you really love me?" War raged with Erik, reason versus hope.
"Yes, Erik. I do," she answered seriously, though confused.
He said nothing for a moment until hope won out and he made a rash decision. "Perhaps it is not too late, Christine."
∞†∞
The endless plodding of hoof-beats finally slowed as Raoul neared the city of Paris, speckled by the fires of hundreds of streetlamps. It was still early evening and he reasoned that perhaps he could surprise Christine then discuss his new resolution over dinner. She would be so proud that he was improving; the thought created a grin across his face as he urged the driver to hurry to the inn Christine had written of in her letter upon arrival in the city. In minutes, he would be with his fiancée again.
∞†∞
Dun dun duh!
Oh, by the way, support group meeting for Nadir's death will be held next Thursday for those of you that need it. ;)
I sorta doubt I can keep up an updating speed like this but hey I'll put up the next part once I get it written. I just hope that my muse will hold out here. -:readies another offering of sweets:-
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Love it or hate it, please let me know what you think! (just a minute with that little square down at the bottom there to make me eternally happy for now)