Author's Caution:
Dear Faithfuls: This is a most odd chapter indeed. It may be difficult to interpret at first, but if read as though you were Erik, fading in and out of consciousness from the exposure to the elements, it may help your perception. It is my hope that this will provide some missing information from parts of Erik's life, and his first encounters with Christine, though I've no doubt it will raise as many questions as it answers. Enjoy
Erik looked out through his frozen eyes. The lashes that surrounded those intense spheres of fiery green and blue were encrusted with tiny crystals of saline ice. He no longer had control over the muscles in his face. His thought process had slowed like a glacier passing over his conscious mind. He was not entirely certain that what he thought he saw in the distance wasn't a mirage, akin to the kind one would see in the dessert after too long an exposure to the elements. A merciful reprieve from the present agony that would undeniably do you in, lead to your unavoidable demise.
Erik's every movement had become excruciating slow. They were almost not motion at all. As he stood at the crest of the frozen temporal mountain that rose from the surface of the earth, he looked down at the figures that seemed to be journeying toward him. His chest rose and fell inconspicuously, as though his movements had nearly come to a dead still. He could feel the woman in his arms, though they felt as if they were no longer attached to his torso. They were rigidly frozen in place, neither releasing nor fully embracing even that which they held.
Erik's mind wandered off to a place far from where he was. His mind was trying to distance him from the present horrors…..it had traveled this way so many times before…trying to block out the present with the past, and it had been a recent development that this was the lesser of the two evils.
Erik found himself wandering in his mind to the place where he'd last been with her. Scrolling before him flashes from when he was a boy in the clutches of a woman he could barely remember, being pushed inside, let out only when it was dark, being kept away from every other child he could hear and see. The gypsies, the cages, the filth, the beatings, the pain. The pitiful face of the young girl who helped him escape after his most impulsive grievous act of the self-defense. The kindness, the first blanket, the first bed from the dormitories, the first set of clothing from the props of the Opera House, the food she would bring, the conversations through the wall in the chapel, the music she'd given him, the books, the candlesticks.
Erik blinked. The lashes surrounding his eyes layered heavily with frost and crystals of ice felt like sharp jagged rakes being dragged across the surface of his tender eyes. The figures were getting larger though they seemed yet so far away. His formidable figure standing, motionless at the top of the drift as the winds blew his cape up, flapping behind him in the wind like a great black sail of a sea going vessel on its maiden voyage.
He blinked again. His mind took him back to the Opera House. The first room he'd fashioned stone by stone in the grotto beyond the lake. The first time he'd watched a production from the rafters far above the stage after witnessing the hours and hours of practice. The first note he'd left in critique of a performance. The first time he was referred to as a ghost when he'd removed something from a set replacing it with something else he'd suggested but they'd failed to do. The first time he'd demanded a salary because Madame Giry needed something her salary could not provide. The first man he'd terrified in order to protect himself. His flight from the Opera House when his friend left to marry. The first time he laid eyes on Nadir when he'd rescued him from the hands of that mob.
Erik blinked again. His mind easily making the transition from past dreams to present pains. Yes there were most decidedly two of them moving in his direction, though it were dark, he could tell it was two.
His mind was again reeling back to the warmth of the sun in Persia where he and Nadir first met THEM… The deal they'd made, the deception, the imprisonment, the torture.
Erik blinked again. His face turning precipitously to a painful scorn. He thought he could feel tears of hate forming in his eyes though he knew it shan't be possible, he could feel next to nothing.
His mind scrolled to when Nadir had rescued him from the certain fate of death for refusing her. They'd parted ways never knowing if they'd see one another again. Nadir's painful goodbye…his admonishing Erik to forget, to go back to the Opera House, that he would come for him when it was safe to return and wage their revenge. He saw Madame Giry again, now pregnant with her first child, and how he'd marveled at the change in his compassionate friend. He saw Meg as a baby as Madame Giry brought her in for him to see under the cloak of night. How he'd held her, the first innocent life he'd ever been allowed to touch. His mind scrolled through Meg walking for the first time, her first words.
He blinked, his eye twitching as he recalled Meg and Madame Giry crying after the loss of their father and husband. How Madame Giry had returned to the Opera House when Meg was but a small girl, for she'd no way to support her without a husband. He remembered the feeling of both happiness and anguish as he welcomed her with open arms back to the Opera House. The subsequent years as he grew in power and myth, from specter to legend.
He blinked once more, he could see it was two small figures…children? No. Women? Yes….most decidedly two woman. His chest rose and fell, a frosty breath rising as the weight of the sleet covered his cloak now, lowering it in the wind. An icy glaze was forming on his frame from crown to pediment…he'd become part of the landscape if left to the hands of mother nature.
His mind flowed to Christine. The first night she'd come to the Opera House. He could hear her crying as she knelt beside her bed, he above her in the rafters watching with curious eyes at the deep pain of such a tender soul. Listening with intent ears as she rose her prayers to the heavens….revealing what she needed most….an angel…. He remembered the first time he'd spoken to her…the terror in her eyes…then his soothing words…his comforting explanation that he was indeed the very angel her father had spoken of…come to be her guardian…her guide. The years as they grew together…the stories he'd tell her to quiet her fears…her sorrows…how she'd listen looking out in the darkness believing him to be her angel of music.
He inhaled, the icy air adding to the chill deep within his lungs. His eyes searching the dark night sky that hovered above them. He closed his eyes….was there no mercy left in this world for them?
His mind reeled yet again. He remembered the night she first raised her voice with his….that small beautiful voice as pure and true as a mountain stream babbling over virgin stone. It was among the precious memories, emblazoned forever in the most sacred part of his heart. His mind wandered from lesson to lesson as her voice grew and his heart swelled.
He blinked again, a breath escaping him once more, his arms felt heavy as though they could barely hold the load in them. He looked down, the large lump beneath the cloak was a woman he barely knew, but a life…a life worth saving.
He raised his head, watching the forms struggling over the snow. He couldn't move, he couldn't speak, he did what he only could….wait for them to reach him, take her from his arms…rescue her…before it was too late.
He blinked again. He saw Christine as a young girl, running back and forth with Meg in the gardens behind the Opera House playing hide and seek as the sun was setting, he watching from the roof. His mind leaped through years, whirling to the night he'd taken her through the mirror, when he was no longer an illusion. Oh the look…that precious look on her face as she beheld him for the first time…man of flesh and bone, not specter, not ghost, not apparition…a man. Their first embrace. The titillating sensation of his hands finally being able to touch her; it was as potent as if she were oxygen and he was breathing for the very first time. The depths of the Opera House when he'd taken her there…to his lair…the grotto where he'd hoped she'd want to stay with him forever.
Erik blinked again. The painful present would not release him…and he would not release the past that was moving through his mind…it was far too sweet a memory to abandon.
The figures had reached the top of the drift across from him, they were making the slow, precarious descent down the side of the perilous drift. His mind wandered back to lying her down in the swan bed…the one he'd carved lovingly with his own hands. It had taken him a year's time. It had been a labor of love, of hope, of wanting. He could see in his mind when she'd woke in it. Oh how he'd wanted to believe she would love him without question. A lump grew in his throat. The memory was so painfully bittersweet.
The memory of her removing the mask from his face, when he'd thrown her to the ground… Erik felt a sob rise to his throat, how was it possible that he'd done this to such a precious creature? He saw her face as he took her back to the surface, placing a kiss on her cheek, promising to be with her always, to be her guard, her guide, her teacher, her friend. Inwardly he was dying…he wanted to love her…he thought all hope was lost. He remembered the look on her face as she promised to visit him, to not be afraid, that he'd always be her angel. A gasp rose to Erik's mouth, he closed his eyes. Oh how he'd thought it would be the same, but it wasn't, he couldn't go back to angel…he'd revealed himself…he could never go back.
His mind raced to the roof of the Opera House, to Raoul's proposal, Christine's confession of horrors unknown by others, what she'd seen…oh the betrayal he'd felt that night! His vengeance boiling to the very surface of his being….that old hatred, blood-thirst he'd thought he'd left behind him in Persia, rising to the top of his soul until it had spilled over that night in the cemetery…he'd been so close to bringing Christine home with him then. How she'd left with that boy.
Erik could feel his knees shaking, they felt like splintering timbers. He knew his body was slowly succumbing to the cold, there was nothing to be done. His mind rushed to the production of Don Juan, to the final confession of love from her lips…her choice…the cave…the first meal they shared, the sweet peaches, the biscuits, the new dress, their journey to her father's grave, the acceptance of his flawed flesh as her husband, their final release as they loved one another as they had always longed to…their flight from Paris…that night at the Candlelight Inn….
Erik exhaled. A tear, it formed inside though it could not find the surface of his eye. Those months she'd been alone without him, as he slept. His mind was full of dreams only of conversations he'd heard, though his mind was devoid of images to accompany the memory of them. The first flutterings of the curtains above his bed at Courtland Manor. The first glimpse he had of her when he realized he was alive. The words she had carefully chosen to tell him he would be a father…oh how his heart had soared that night! He though he could feel himself smiling, though he knew he could not be. The joy they shared as she laid in his arms for the first time in so very long…the discovery of his altered flesh. His anger…his impatience with those that had cared for him that long while. Their departure to the winter house…..
His mind whirled to Meg…the horror of the events that took place there flashing so quickly by his mind. Sara's death at the hands of that boy….the trip to Chauesser, the night he'd first seen the woman he now held in his arms…Nicole….her pleading eyes asking him not to be angry….Christine telling him not to be afraid….his flight back to the winter house when he'd thought Christine to be in danger….the news of their children….their first tender night together alone in that house….his love song for her as the storm raged….the man at the door…the dog sled…the window….
Erik blinked heavily, there were two figures now climbing the very mountain of snow he stood on. Soon they would reach him…then he would know if it was his mind playing cruel tricks on him, or if there really was hope for them. He closed his eyes…it would all be over soon.
XXXX
"Mother…" Nicole pulled on her mother's cloak. Her mother's face was covered with frozen tears. The biting wind, and stinging sleet had not deterred any of them from doing what they knew they must. "Mother…." Nicole came along side her. She too was delirious, and entirely disappointed. "Mother!" Nicole grabbed her mother's shoulder.
"What if he's not seen her….I think it's the man mother, but it is so dark…I cannot tell, but I do not see her…mother…why is he just standing there…why doesn't he move?"
Her mother turned around, handling Nicole as gruffly as she'd ever in her life. "Nicole, I do not know…I do not know why he stands motionless, why he doesn't call out…why he stands there if he's not found her…" Her mother gasped.. "perhaps he does know something…perhaps he's found her…" Her mother brought her frost covered hand to her mouth, a pitiful moan coming from deep within her.
Nicole grabbed her mother, taking her shoulders into hers as they pulled themselves up the side of the drift. There he stood, motionless, cape fluttering just slightly…it was like he was frozen as stone, unable to move…
As they came within the last few yards of him, he turned his head down toward them, watching with his penetrating eyes. The wind was whirling around them, the sleet fell with such great force it felt like steely knives piercing any exposed flesh.
Nicole and her mother closed the distance between them and the man that stood looking down rather ominously. Once they'd reached him, Nicole's mother threw herself at his feet.
It was then that Erik realized in the pain of the movement from her actions that it had not been his imagination, they were there, they were real. Nicole pulled herself up behind her mother, looking pleadingly up into Erik's eyes. Her eyes as chilled and bleary as his felt.
He looked at this poor grieving young woman, and his heart felt warmth for the first time since he'd left home that morning. In her eyes he saw the love that she felt for her grandmother. Though she said nothing, Erik knew what she longed to see.
He closed his eyes, dropping to his knees. Now looking up at her, he inhaled and exhaled slowly, the heat from his lungs rising in a frosty breath towards the heavens. He looked down at his cloak and then back up at Nicole. She glanced at his cloak, and he nodded. She leaned down, reaching out, lifting the corner of it. Underneath she saw several tattered, moth eaten blankets. Her heart raced. She grasped her mother's shoulder that now shook from the wretched fit of sobs that had taken over her.
Her mother looked up to the point that Nicole had exposed. She gasped, lifting the other side of his cloak. She began digging feverishly under the blankets until she'd uncovered, that which she sought. Her face lit with both agony and relief. She leaned down kissing her mother's forehead, reaching out to grab her hand…it was cold. She shrieked, falling back onto her hands in the snow.
Nicole looked at Erik, "Monsieur?" Erik managed to bring his voice forth, "do not cry woman…she lives." Erik fell further down until his knees buckled beneath him and he lurched back into the snow, the old woman splayed out onto his chest.
Nicole gasped. She saw the blood she'd not seen before, but she couldn't tell where it had come from. There was much of it, and it was soaked into both of their clothing. She yelled, "Mother, we must bring them inside, bring them where it is warm lest they both perish."
Her mother had been rocking back and forth on her knees crying. "How Nicole….how are we going to bring them anywhere….we've no way to even carry ourselves back to warmth…we shall all die out here, stranded in the snow in a city that had been in the full bloom of spring not three days ago…they will find us frozen forms, dead, all of us…every one."
Her mother was hysterical, and though she'd come to regret it, Nicole did the only thing she could, she reached out slapping her mother across the face. The woman lurched forward on top of the man and her grandmother.
Nicole sat back on her haunches, looking down at the pile of limbs and flesh that was in front of her. Then she looked around, there was nothing to be done, she'd might as well throw herself in with the heap relinquishing her life to her fate. Lying down along with them on the frozen ground, she sighed. And there was silence.
XXXXX
Christine sat straight up on the divan. "No, no…" Her mind was playing tricks…cruel horrible tricks on her. In the sleep she'd just been in she saw Erik laying on his back, a crumpled pile of black cloaks laying around him in the freshly falling snow. "No," she shook her head resolutely, he'd promised he'd come back to her….and she knew that he would…he'd promised.
Christine moved over next to the fire, wrapping the robe more tightly about her middle.
As she sat herself on the floor in front of the divan, she rubbed her hand over her stomach. He'd be a good father one day very soon…he was a good husband…he'd come back to her. She closed her head leaning it forward as she raised a simple prayer. "Protect him, help him…bring him back to me….to us. Amen." It was in God's hands now.
She pulled down the blanket from the cushion. She nestled her head into the folds of it as she laid down curled into a little ball in front of the fire. It had his scent, and suddenly she felt close to him…closer on the floor in a ball than sitting on a divan….One hand protectively over her stomach, the other a handful of blanket pulled up beneath her head. She'd rest there for now…it just felt right.
XXXX
The bitter winds ravaged the small heap of flesh that lay on the crest of that drift. Off in the distance could be heard the crack of a whip, and the shouts of a half-dozen men. They'd come looking…it had been too long.
Author's Notes:
Dear Faithfuls: It is entirely possible that I will be out of town a few days next week on assignment, and won't be able to update. I don't know for certain which days though Monday and Tuesday are the strongest candidates at this point. But I will let you know with Friday's chapter. I don't like to leave anyone hanging out there!
Phantomsrogue: Yes, I am a bit reticent, but I'd like to agree to, as you suggest, a cooperative effort to fashion the story as you suggested. I hesitate only because I know it might be some time before this story is finished, there is still so much ground to cover. Although I think a bit of preliminary brainstorming wouldn't be all that bad. No, I'd not forgotten the Bohemian revolution at all…there was so much going on in Paris at the time, so very much, it will be difficult to weave it all together…and it will indeed be a dark tale, one of much mystery and intrigue! We shall talk further of this! But I must leave this subject with one final detail…what if Lestat HAD been able to catch the Phantom unaware, and in a moment of utter insanity that they'd later both come to regret, Lestat did indeed "infect" the Phantom, but in turn had been weakened in an odd way by Erik's own blood…perhaps what was mortal would be immortal, and what had been immortal would be once again vulnerable to the ultimate fate of mortals…. hmmmm…makes one think a bit doesn't it! Laughs nefariously!
Yes, Raoul's rash blurting of his emotions! He didn't propose exactly, there was a subtle, o.k., not so subtle nuance there. Yes, I would imagine that there would be a family bauble lurking about….but that could be…let us just say….rather difficult to explain just now…hmmmm….I can hear the cogs of your inquisitive mind working already! Yes, angst to come…really….have you come to expect anything less from me? LOL
WriterMuseoftheNight: My goodness another inquisitive mind! No, our dear handsome Erik shall not be robbed of his handsomeness…he's waited far too long for it…although that doesn't mean there won't be complications…for every warning not heeded, leads to an eventual consequence. I rather like Erik as the handsome man we all know him to be…oh…he is the stuff that dreams are made of! Yes, the water on the desk, I perhaps tried to emphasize that a bit too much, but I wanted it to stick in the mind of the readers…it too has a purpose…. I am glad you are liking the development of Erik and Raoul. No doubt you've caught on to some of the similarities that I've tried to tuck in there…both romantic…both quite without a mother now…both longing for a father, though in different ways. Yet I am playing the opposites, those things that polarize them. In real life siblings can be as different as night and day….hmm…I shall say no more.
Now, as the explanation of your tag name…I shall open the floor to you…it sounds like there might be more to the "story" than what you'd first told us. So…if you'd like to elaborate, please feel free.
Foreverphantoms: Sorry for the angst…no doubt you could do without any additional stress in your life right now! I had to laugh (I hope that doesn't offend you) when I read about how you've listened to your POTO CD…I've done the same thing. I have honestly listened to it every, yes…every day since I first bought it the second night I watched the movie in the theaters and that was months ago. I still get goosebumps during 'The Music of The Night'… My sisters and brothers, along with their spouses think I am quite mad…oh if they only knew the half of it! Not one of them know that I am penning this fic, and would likely have me committed if they knew how much time I spent immersed in the world of POTO! So, that to say, I understand what you mean! Oh…your own little Erik…too bad your husband wouldn't let you name him Erik…maybe it can be your private "pet" name for him! I am so very happy for you and your husband. To have found the love of your life…and to have such a wonderful family….that is far better than any fairytale. Perhaps your husband doesn't understand that POTO awakens the deepest, most passionate side of women…it just makes us feel more alive…not that it makes you love the man in your life any less…in fact it may make you love him more! Sounds crazy doesn't it? Too bad he's not willing to share your passion of the movie with you…I wish I could encourage him for you!
Oh how I smiled when you mentioned that your husband is making a CD for your new son! You might recall from a previous chapter, that our dear Erik is writing an entire set of lullabies for each of his children…at least that is his plan! It is good to hear that your little one is doing o.k. Preemies are pretty resilient, and you mentioned he was feisty…a very good sign!
Yes, hopelessly addicted to Gerard as the Phantom…yes, you've delved into the world of my obsession! If you want a treat go on the internet to a sight called Rapid Share and look for the free video that one of his fans did…its set to the song 'Addicted' by Kelly Clarkson. If you can't find it, let me know, and I'll try to get the exact address for you. But be warned, you'll need at least an hour, because though it is only several minutes long, you'll want to watch it, and watch it, and watch it again! I'm sorry, I know time is precious for you…but if you want a mini-escape, this might be the ticket!
Thank you for your words of encouragement. I really do revel in what reviewers mention. If this story has helped anyone in any way, provided a distraction from current worries, or entertainment, lightened anyone's heart or day…then I feel so very blessed to have been able to do it. Yes, it has consumed a good portion of my free-time these last months, but it feels so very good for my heart. I always knew they should be together…but I never imagined when I'd penned the first chapter that I would find myself where I am now…or that anyone would share the journey with me. I am more grateful than anyone would ever imagine. So, thank you…
Batteredchild: You are most welcome for the welcome! Thank you for your compliment on the chapter. Yes, I am a fan of foreshadowing, though this was much more blatant than I am normally…I needed it to be obvious…I cannot say why just now. Yes, poor Erik. He is finding out the hard way that living on the surface of the world is a bit more difficult than he'd thought…it might leave him longing for some solitude…..hmmmm. Your name from a song…it is funny how music move us isn't it?
Draegon-fire: I am glad to hear that I did not offend you with my ramblings. I do think single moms are very special. Our beloved Gerard was raised by a single mom, and I think you'll find that there are many great actors, poets, scientists, etc. who were all raised by single moms. Not that we all wouldn't want there to be a complete family, but there is something special about growing up in those situations that can really make a life stronger as long as it is channeled for the positive instead of the negative. I've a bit of poetry that I'd written about single moms in fact. I'd be happy to share it with you if you'd like.
Yes, the characters are on their journey toward their purpose, as are we all. There is much to be accomplished yet, and I've no idea how many more chapters it will take to get them there. Just when things seem to be headed in one direction, they take a precipitous detour in another! Yes, I too am curious as to what Erik might be hiding in that drawer!