I've gotten reviews from you people saying that I should keep writing Red Rose Thorns. Well, guess what people? You're getting your wish! I'm going to write this story, granted it may not be full blown, but you guys have been nagging me and I've been nagging at myself to write more of this. So, read and enjoy!
Red Rose Thorns
Christine sat in the carriage that sat right in front of the De Chagny manor, waiting for her driver to take her and her baby girl to the once grand Paris Opera House. Worries and doubts plagued the young soprano's mind: would Erik accept her back? Would he look upon his daughter with as much love as she did? Would Erik toss them out into the streets, not wanting her back after the way she had treated him? Well, Christine couldn't blame him for that one; what she had done that night below the opera house was unforgivable! Erik wasn't the monster that night, she was. She was the one who deserved to live in the damp cellars, not her Erik.
"Madame de Chagny, are you ready to depart?" the driver asked, tapping the roof of the carriage to get the young woman's attention. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something wrong with his mistress: why would she be sneaking away from her husband in the dead of night? The old man had seen the Vicomte always treat his wife with the utmost respect, but then again, he never went inside and he had heard gossip from the maids that he would regularly beat his wife and the supposed "bastard" child.
"Oui, Monsieur. To the opera house, please." Christine sighed. Looking down at her sleeping daughter, she smiled slightly and pushed a strand of curly brown hair from her face. Her child was the most precious thing to her; if Erik were to turn them out into the streets, Christine would do everything in her power to make sure that she would grow up knowing and loving her father, despite what he had done.
But that wasn't something Christine wanted to dwell on. She wanted to think about the happier times when it was just her and her angel of music. There were so many memories of just them and everything was running so smoothly until Raoul had become the opera's newest patron. Christine fell in love immediately, wanting nothing more than her childhood sweetheart, but that was also the night she had met Erik. Christine still didn't understand why Erik revealed himself to her on that particular night; perhaps he was tired of hiding behind her mirror or maybe he was afraid that Raoul was going to steal her away from him… "Oh, Little One, I hope your father is at the opera house; I don't know where else to find him."
It took about two hours to get from the manor to Paris; Raoul wanted to make sure that Erik couldn't find Christine so he had bought a monstrous house in the middle of nowhere! She had been so excited at first, thanking her husband over and over again for being so thoughtful and keeping her safe, but during those long months of pregnancy, it had become a prison of tacky decorations and nightly beatings. "We're here, Madame. Do you want me to wait here and take you back once you're finished here?"
Christine jumped at the sound of the old driver's voice; she didn't even notice that they had even entered the city. "Oui, Monsieur, but if I'm not out within an hour, I give you full permission to leave." She smiled and climbed out of the carriage. Grabbing the only suitcase she brought and a cloth bag that held all of her trinkets and silently walked over to the Rue Scribe entrance. Setting down her belongings, except for her child, Christine fished out the key that she had kept throughout her stay with Raoul and unlocked the hidden door, making sure that the driver couldn't see her opening it. Grabbing her things once again, she slipped quietly into the dark whole in the wall and closed it quickly.
Christine could barely see three feet in front of her; she knew better than to enter the catacombs without some form of light, but it was pointless wishing now. She had to find her way through the darkness on her own now. No Erik. No candles. Just her and her memories of how she had gotten down in the first place.
^.^
Erik closed the lid to his last trunk, sighing as he locked it. He had waited nine months, almost ten, waiting for his love to come back to him; it was a pathetic notion that she would come back, but he couldn't help it! The night she had given herself to him, in body and spirit, Erik thought he finally knew what it meant to be loved, yet, the night of Buquet's death, she had run to the fop for comfort instead of him!
He should have told her the truth that night: that it wasn't he who had killed Buquet, but that Buquet had killed himself. Still, Erik had helped with his suicide; he had asked the ghost to hang him, since he always carried around his Punjab lasso and Erik agreed out of sheer stupidity, that and he had busted into Andre's liquor cabinet, trying to drown his fears of Christine and that boy together with expensive brandy. Erik could understand why everyone thought he had killed Buquet. He had killed before, but he never flashed his handiwork in front of anyone.
But…the look of fear and utter horror in his beloved's eyes pulled him out of his drunken stupor and he felt his already broken heart shatter to pieces as he followed her and her boy up to the roof; she describing the horror of what he really was and the fop reassuring her that he was nothing more than a dream. When they had proclaimed their love for each other, Erik was sure he would die right then and there on the roof and what twisted the knife even more was that she had abandoned his rose in the cold, unforgiving snow, just like she had with him.
Erik couldn't understand why she would tell him that she loved him and then run off to another man, saying that he was a monster and that the other was her knight in shining armor. Erik had tried his hardest to be kind and loving, even when she pulled off his mask he didn't raise a hand at her, but that didn't matter in her eyes. Looks and charm seemed to capture her heart and it appeared that Erik had neither. All he had to offer was his love and music and never ending darkness. She would have never been able to survive in his darkness though; she was an angel, a creature of light, and he was a demon, a creature of nothing, a creature of pure evil.
Sitting down on the swan bed that was meant for the two of them, Erik sighed and placed his deformed head in his hands. He was leaving for America in a couple of hours. He decided that after waiting as long as he had, he deserved to live outside of his cellar and perhaps starting completely over would be a good thing; nobody would know him, his past, his shattered love, and maybe he could find another woman. One who could look beyond his face and see him for who he really was. A man. Sighing, Erik took in his lair, or whatever was left of it after what the mob had done, and swore he heard a voice that he hadn't heard in over nine months.
No, it couldn't possibly be her! Why would she be here after all these weeks? No, it must have been his wishful imagination. It had to be. Then, he heard it again; her precious voice crying out for help. Jumping up from the bed, Erik felt his heart stop at what he saw; his angel was standing in knee deep water, a squirming bundle in her goose bump arms.
"E-Erik?" she whispered, her expressive brown eyes wide with hope. He hadn't left the cellars! He was still there!
"Christine?" he breathed. What was she doing here? She should be sitting in front of a fire with her Vicomte, cooing over the bundle that she held so securely. Was she back to tell him that they were leaving France? That she was expecting child number two soon?
"Erik, take your daughter and then help me out?" Christine said, her eyes widening that she had let her secret slip. She had wanted to make the moment special between the two of them, but, as usual, she screwed it up.
Daughter? Did she just say that he had a daughter? That couldn't be true! He had only laid with her once! There was no way she could have become pregnant from that! It had to have been the Vicomte's child; there was no other explanation. "Christine…what?"
"Just take her and I'll explain everything, I promise." Christine begged. Her baby was starting to fuss and if she dropped her in the freezing lake water, Christine would never forgive herself.
Erik hesitantly walked into his lake and scooped his angel up in his arms bridal style. He heard her give a small squeak at the sudden loss of ground beneath her feet, but he ignored it; he stood in shock when his golden eyes clashed with the little girl's…and her deformity.
"What's wrong, Angel?"
"She…She's…like me." He finally choked out. This was his daughter; the Vicomte was too handsome to spawn such a child. Not that he cared that she was deformed, but her life wasn't going to be an easy one.
"Is that a bad thing?" Christine practically growled. She knew she was too overprotective of her child, but after all that Raoul had done to the innocent baby, she naturally became protective or offended.
"No! Oh, Christine, I don't care what she looks like, but…the Vicomte?" he asked helplessly.
Christine's pretty face fell at the mention of her husband's title. Why did he have to mention that man's name right now? "Erik, she's your daughter...Raoul never acknowledged her and he would beat her regularly, as you can see by her bruise."
Erik waded through the water, watching the tears roll down his love's cheeks. The Vicomte would beat his child because she was deformed? What else had he done to the poor baby? "Has he hurt you in anyway?" he growled. If that fop had touched her even once, there would be hell to pay.
Christine kept silent as they made their way back to shore; she didn't know how she was going to tell Erik about the nights when Raoul would get drunk, beat her, force himself, and usually beat her again if he wasn't tired. Perhaps she could tell him that later. Right now, Christine just savored the feeling of being cradled in her angel's arms. She felt safe, secure and…loved. Christine hadn't felt the sensation since the night Erik brought her down for the first time; she had forgotten how good it felt.
Erik could tell that she was staying purposefully silent and maybe it was a good thing too; he just got his angel back, he was wary on that fact though, and he didn't want to be separated from her again by being arrested for killing the boy or scaring Christine off again.
"You should change out of your clothes, my dear. You might catch a chill and I don't want that to happen."
Now that he had mentioned it, Christine had completely forgotten that she was soaking wet up to her knees; if she got sick, she wouldn't be able to take care of her baby girl, but Erik could take care of the little one, couldn't he?
"I guess I should. Will you hold your daughter? She gets rather fussy if she's not held." Christine instructed as Erik gently put her on the bed, taking his daughter from her grasp.
"We'll be right outside if you need anything." Erik said, shutting the door and walking over to his piano bench. Sitting down, he was finally able to get a good look at the little girl: she had her mother's brown curls, his golden eyes, Christine's round face, and his deformed cheek. How could such an angel be so dreadfully cursed? True, it wasn't as severe as his, but she was just an innocent girl and she didn't deserve to have such a fate put onto her tiny shoulders. Would the world be cruel to her, as it was to her father? Would she grow to hate him because of what she had inherited from him?
Hold on, why were they referring to their daughter as she and her? Didn't Christine name the girl? Maybe she was going to dump the baby on him, since they looked so much alike, and then she would go skipping back to her Vicomte! How dare she do such a thing to him? Erik should have known better than to let the woman who had broken his tattered heart more times than he could count back into his life! He should have known better!
Looking back down at her tiny face, Erik came up with the most perfect name for her, "Alyssandra Filicia Destler. Do you like your new name, Alyssandra?" he cooed at the infant. Staring up at her father, Alyssandra gave a small yawn and nuzzled her face into his thin chest, a sigh escaping her perfect lips as she fell asleep, happy with her new name.
Christine wanted to cry at the moment between father and daughter; Erik seemed so careful and gentle with their child, their Alyssandra-what a unique name-and her falling asleep in his arms! They looked so perfect together! As much as she hated to interrupt, she wanted to find out where Erik came up with the name Alyssandra Filicia. Was it French? Or something foreign?
"You seem to be fitting into the father role pretty fast." She said, placing a delicate hand on her Erik's shoulder. He seemed to tense at her touch, but she just passed it off that he wasn't used to being touched in such a way.
"Why did you come here, Christine?" Erik whispered, trying his best to keep a level head so he wouldn't wake up his daughter.
"What do you mean? I'm here to stay with you, Erik." She replied, confused at his behavior. Just before she changed her clothes, he was quiet, but he was kind. Why the sudden change in attitude? Fear began to coil in the pit of her stomach; she never thought that Erik would only accept his daughter back and throw her out!
Erik released a bitter chuckle, standing up and going to the bedroom Christine had just exited. Setting his Alyssandra down on the soft silk, he turned back to look at a concerned Christine. Practically pushing her over, Erik gestured for her to sit as he shut the door to the room. There was going to be arguing, yelling, and maybe some tears and he didn't want the girl to waken to such anger.
"Don't lie to me, Christine. Admit it, you're only here to give me our daughter and run back to your precious Vicomte."
"How dare you? I would never do such a thing! I have every intention of leaving my husband and raising my daughter with you and only you!" Christine nearly shouted, "I know I've realized this all too late, but I want to change everything, Angel; I want to start over with you and Alyssandra!"
Erik couldn't believe what he was hearing; Christine wanted to have a family with him? Was she completely desperate to leave her loving husband and crawl back to him, a monster? "Whatever you think your life with me will be, Christine, its pure fantasy. I can't provide like your boy can, I'm not rich, I'm not handsome, and I'm definitely not social. So, tell me, why do you want me?"
Throwing her hands up in the air, Christine gave a frustrated cry before answering, "Because I love you, you thick headed man! I love you and Alyssandra and not that abusive son of a bitch!"
"Abusive? What did the Vicomte do to you? And I want an answer this time, Christine; I don't want you to shrug it off and pretend that its nothing."
Sighing, Christine knew that she had no choice now but to tell Erik about the terror and pain filled nights, "After we had slept together, I became pregnant with Alyssandra. I was excited to say the least, but then you killed Joseph Buquet and I was frightened, Erik. The first thought that crossed my mind was where had my loving angel gone. So, I ran to Raoul because he offered me safety and comfort. I was a fool to go to him; once we got married, he began to drink. I thought it was harmless, really. What was wrong with a hard working man having a few drinks after dinner? His drinking soon spiraled out of control and one night it got so bad that he beat me. He beat me until I was nearly unconscious and when I refused to move my hands from my stomach, he knew I was hiding something. Raoul pretended to be sorry, begging for my forgiveness and I slipped up; I revealed that I was pregnant. I thought for a moment that he would just automatically jump to the fact that it was his child, but I could see him counting back the months in his head and he could see the development, since I had stopped wearing my corset. He knew that it wasn't his child and he beat me again. Throughout my pregnancy, it became routine for him to get drunk, beat me, force himself upon me, then beat me again." By this point Christine was shaking with suppressed sobs. Just thinking of it just made her want to burst with anger and sadness.
Erik could see Christine's obvious distress and regretted his earlier outburst, but he still kept his guard up. What if it was just a ploy to get close to him and then tear his heart out again and laugh at him? "How can I trust that this is all real, Christine? I had once put every ounce of trust in you and then you broke it. How do I know you won't break it again?"
"I can understand your lack of trust, but you must believe me! If you don't then the bruise on Alyssandra's forehead should be proof enough! Raoul had hit her on the head with his cane, telling me to kill her!" she shouted. Muffled crying was coming from her old room, but she had to ignore it, even though motherly instinct was telling her to go in there and never come out, but Christine knew that in order to get through to Erik, she must stand her ground and show him that she was telling the truth.
"How can I be sure you didn't put that bruise there? After all, she resembles me, a demon unfit for human life." Erik spat. He knew the cruelties of women; his own mother used to hit him and lock him in his room if he misbehaved. Maybe his daughter had suffered the same fate at her young age.
"Alyssandra has been my main reason of living these nine months, Erik! When Raoul found out she was your child, I was the one who protected her! She would be dead if it wasn't for me! I took those nightly beatings just for her and after two weeks of being unsure if he would steal her and finish her off himself, I ran away, back to you! I thought that you would welcome us with open arms, but I see that it is the exact opposite! I'll take Alyssandra and myself Madame Giry's flat; I'm sure she'd be more than happy to have us, unlike you!"
Erik had never seen Christine so fierce; where had the calm, docile girl who he had tutored gone to? Letting her words fully sink in, he caught her wrist as she walked towards the bedroom door, where the whimpers had turned into full blown screams. Erik had grown attached to his child in the short amount of time that he held her and he couldn't bear it if he lost both of them due to his lack of trusting others.
"Don't go, Christine. I-I don't think I could handle losing you again and I know for a fact that if you take away my daughter, I will surely die."
Looking at him, Christine gave a watery smile; his plea sounded so much like a child asking for his mother to go get his favorite toy back from the neighborhood bully. "I won't leave, Angel, but you must believe me when I say that I would never hurt our daughter in any way. Alyssandra is my world and I hope she can be apart of yours too."
Releasing her wrist, Erik could only blink as he watched the most perfect woman and mother open the door and walk inside, saying sweet words to their child.
"Maman is sorry for the loud noises, Alyssandra. We never meant to wake you up, sweet one." Christine cooed, picking up the crying baby. She must have had sensitive hearing like her father and it made everything extra loud for her.
"Can I see her?" Erik asked timidly, holding his arms out just incase she said yes.
"Of course," Christine replied, setting the still crying baby in her Erik's arms, "you can hold her anytime you want."
Erik didn't hear what Christine had told him nor did he care what it was; he was holding his child. The living, breathing miracle that came from his and his angel's love.
Alyssandra wriggled within the foreign grasp, wanting to be back in the familiar arms of the woman who had taken care of her in her short time of being in the bright world around her. Looking back up at him, she could see that he had strange, but comforting eyes that she recognized.
Giving his Alyssandra a soft grin, Erik took a deep breath and began a lullaby he had first sang to her when she had come to the opera house; it was a song meant for children younger than six, but it still fit perfectly for her.
Baby mine, don't you cry
Baby mine, dry your eyes
Rest your head close to my heart
Never to part, baby of mine.
Little one when you play
Don't you mind what you say
Let those eyes sparkle and shine
Never a tear, baby of mine.
Christine remembered the song immediately and felt her own brown eyes swell up with tears. How could she have left this man? Erik was already a remarkable father: he made sure that she was comfortable, safe, and loved.
If they knew sweet little you
They'd end up loving you too
All those same people who scold you
What they'd give just for
The chance to hold you.
Erik's voice rang softly throughout his lair, singing as softly as he possibly could so that his daughter would calm down and it seemed to have worked. Alyssandra's eyelids were beginning to droop and her cries had become nothing but gentle, almost musical, gurgles. Tearing his eyes away from the tiny child, Erik saw Christine wiping her eyes, her eyes telling him to continue.
From your head to your toes
Your not much, goodness knows
But your so precious to me
Cute as can be, baby of mine.
Her voice joining in the last verse, Christine smiled as Erik set their Alyssandra in the swan bed, kissing both her deformed cheek and perfect one.
"Bonne nuit, Ange. Nous aimons vous." She whispered, yawning at the same time. "Erik, I'm tired."
"Are you ready to go to bed, my dear? I have a pair of pajamas for you to wear since I'm guessing you have left your belongings on the other side of the lake."
"You must be psychic. Oui, my suitcase is on the other side of the lake, but there isn't much there; only a couple of dresses, some undergarments, and a cloth bag that I have some of my most treasured objects in."
"Well, I'll get that for you tomorrow. You've had a rough day and you deserve some rest." Erik said, going to one of his trunks and grabbing two pairs of silk pajamas. Christine hadn't noticed the trunks when she had first entered the room; she had been too transfixed on the lullaby Erik had been singing, but now that she was free from his voice, she had time to observe the room.
"Were you leaving to go somewhere?" she asked. Picking up one of the tags, Christine read America on it. Why was he leaving for America? Did he have family over there? Or was it for another purpose?
"I…I was going to America. I had waited for so many months for you to return and I was finally done waiting. My boat is supposed to leave within the next hour." Erik replied, looking at his pocket watch to confirm his answer. Christine held tightly onto the pajamas in shock; she had nearly lost her Erik! There would have been no way for her to have known that he would be in America and she would have never been able to reunite with him.
"But don't worry, mon amour, I'm staying right here; I won't leave you and Alyssandra." Erik reassured, kissing her cheek before turning around to change into the black pajamas. Sighing with relief, Christine stripped off her dress, corset, stockings, and chemise, and slipped into the cool and comfortable silk. The clothes Erik bought were always so expensive and glamorous; it was a mystery where he got all of his money!
The exhausted couple crawled onto the welcoming bed, one on either side of their daughter. Christine reached over, her arm landing on her lover's waist, loving the feeling of not being beaten. Not having to cry herself to sleep.
"Je t'aime, mon coeur." Both whispered sleepily in unison before falling asleep, joining their Alyssandra in the world of dreams and make believe.
I love Mt. Dew! There is so much caffeine and sugar in that pop to keep me wired for hours! I'm still awake and it's almost 2 AM. The ending to this kinda sucked, but when caffeine, sugar, late, or early, hours combined with the knowledge that I have to work tomorrow didn't motivate me very much. I have a part time job that, unfortunately, falls on the weekends and on some weekdays, depending on the job, but at least I get paid! I have to pay for my own car insurance! I'm done rambling now and I think I might have enough energy in me to post one more story tonight…or would this count as morning…? But in the grand scheme of things, does it matter?
Erik: I think you should lay off the soda for now, my dear.
Me: You're not the boss of me!
Erik: Yes I am! I'm giving you full permission to write about me.
Me: I would actually need the full permission of Leroux to write about you.
Erik:…*pulls out flaming baseball bat*
Me: And that is my cue to shut up and go to bed! Remember everyone, review and Erik will give you a rose!
Erik: Or a hit in the face with a flaming baseball bat!
Me: We don't want to scare them! Okay, maybe scaring them would work, but I just want them to review!
Christine: Erik, stop threatening people!
Erik: Yes, Christine. *puts out baseball bat*
Me: Good night!