Author's Note: WARNING! This is a tear-jerker. I love all of you who have made this the best story it could possibly be. You all have stuck with me through thick and thin and I am so appreciative for that. I want to thank CassieXSesshie4ever, Alvkard Vognir, Why Fireflies Flash, Niikkii95, xandi412 and RedDeathLvr for reviewing this story. It has meant the world to me that ya'll followed it for so long. Thank you. Now, on with the final show.
Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah... I don't own Phantom of the Opera... Blah, blah, blah
Chapter Eight: Healing a Broken Heart
His hand held the cold blade against her warm throat; his thumb slightly rubbing the soft skin right above where the thick vein lay underneath the tender and delicate skin. Her fingers frighteningly curled around his forearms, his hot skin burning her fingers. Her blue eyes filled with tears. The tears were acting as a raging flood barreling towards the small flimsy wooden structure meant to hold it back. The wooden structure was screaming, trying to run away from the devastation hurdling towards it. Though, bound together, they were forced to stand before the thunderous waters. Together they stood, together they fell.
The tears broke through the black eyelashes coated with mascara. The ink-coated tears fell down her cheeks, staining the porcelain skin. They dripped onto his hand, falling down until they hung from his hand, waiting to spill onto the white bosoms held high from the corset binding itself to her body.
"P-Please..." She sobbed, her voice the thing making a sound in the auditorium, every other person was silent, engrossed in the opera before them. Yet, this was no opera. The opera ended once the blade touched her soft neck. She was begging for her life now.
"Please what?" He hissed in her ear, his fiery breath traveling down her body, his tongue licking his lips. He brought his parted lips to her ear, his nose burying itself into her hair taking in the sweet aroma of vanilla.
Her lips began quivering, her eyes looking up into the rafters up above, looking for something that was nowhere to be seen. She choked on another sob, causing the sharp steel to press harder into her neck. The heavy dress began to pull her down, the weight making her sink down towards the dark-wooden floors.
"Stand, Nightingale. I want the whole world to see the beauty before them." He whispered, pulling her back up against his hard body so that she was back on her feet again.
"Stop calling me that," she cried out, her voice almost singing as she shouted. "Where is he?" She blurted out, her heart racing faster as he chuckled in her ear.
"He's long gone. You're all mine. You promised you'd always be mine." He whispered, the audience unable to hear him.
The audience began to talk, their questions going unanswered, the opera not following anything they had ever seen before.
Nathalie's eyes looked down to the conductor in the orchestra pit, her eyes begging him to run to get help.
"Monsieur Reé, get the police. Hurry." The conductor whispered to his priority Violinist.
The young man nodded, placing his violin on his chair as he stood, walking out of the orchestra pit and running quietly towards the doors for help.
A single gunshot rang out, the audience began to scream as the spray of blood coated a few by-standers. The young Violinists' fell hard to the carpeted flooring. Markus walked out from behind a seat and lay the young kid down.
"Thank you, my friend." Klaudios shouted from the stage, his lips pulled into a large smile.
The audience began to panic and scream; ladies were screaming at the husbands or escorts to take them away from the horror. The men were doing all they could to protect the ones they loved while trying to figure out a way that wasn't blocked by the violent gunslinger standing at the doors.
The extra gun Markus held a a powerful punch once you pulled the trigger and Markus loved it. "Finally killed something like a real man." He smirked as the men stood watching him with anger as the ladies held tears and fear in their eyes. "Get out, all of you." Markus said, watching as everyone bolted for the doors, giving no one a second look as they toppled over each other, trying to escape the mad man that had killed an innocent young man.
…
"How much longer until we get there?" Edio shouted as they rode the horses bareback, the cobblestone streets were being beaten by the horses hooves.
"We're here," Erik said as the Palais Garnier appeared from behind a few buildings.
…
"Now, Nightingale, where were we? Oh yes, Act 3, Scene 6. Do you remember what that title was called?" His voice tickled her ear, making her body cringe under the mysterious and foreign presence.
She said not a word, her body shaking so violently she couldn't breathe.
"NATHALIE!" A woman screamed from the dark audience, her voice bouncing off the walls of the large auditorium.
Nathalie's eyes darted back and forth, trying to decipher where the woman was.
"Let my daughter go!" The woman shouted again, footsteps now sounding on the wood flooring of the stage.
As Klaudios turned Nathalie in the direction of the voice, the elder woman stood tall for her microscopic size. Her fading auburn hair was held tightly in a bun sitting almost on the top of her head. Her golden dress was pristine, her green eyes dull as sickness took over her aging body.
"Well, if it isn't the infamous Bridgette André herself, gracing us with her presence. Bridgette, I don't believe you've met my dear future wife, Nathalie." Klaudios gave a soft smile as his traced Nathalie's neck, taking in her scent.
"Leave her alone, Klaudios. Let my daughter go," the older woman said, stepping closer to the deranged prince, her sweaty palms pressed tightly into her gown.
A gun cocked behind the head of the woman, stopping her in her attempt to take her daughter away.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, whore." Markus snickered, his revolver inches from the back of her skull. His trigger finger held tight against the movable metal, ready to send the woman into the next world with a bang, so to speak.
"No, mother, just leave." Nathalie cried out. Even though hating her mother more than the world itself five months ago, she couldn't bear to see her mother die in front of her. Though she was the worlds most distant parent and immoral disease carrier, she provided for her children and wouldn't stand for anyone hurting her flesh and blood.
"Yes, mother, leave before something drastic happens." Klaudios smiled, his free hand traveling down Nathalie's dress, moving his hand down the porcelain breasts held high and tight together from the corset.
"Leave her alone!" Bridgette shouted, her right foot moving forward.
The gun shot was followed by the blood-curdling scream belonging to Nathalie.
The woman dropped sideways, her forehead the canvas for the bullet's exit wound. Her bun was still intact, hiding the portion of skull that was blown off. Blood flooded the small area of the stage, the golden dress of the woman soaking up the thick liquid, changing it's beautiful colour to something that came out of a Gothic romance novel.
"MOTHER!" Nathalie screamed, her finger nails digging deep into the skin of her captor, tearing the tough skin and allowing ten small trickle's of blood to flow down his tanned skin.
"God damn it!" Klaudios shouted, pulling the knife away from Nathalie's throat, throwing her body to the hard and unforgiving floor. Klaudios rubbed his forearms, smearing the blood into the three quarter sleeves.
Nathalie looked up, her mother's face in complete shock. Nathalie crawled over, her hand reaching out for the old woman's face. As her fingertips grazed the lightly wrinkled skin, the head turned a little, the older woman's lips slightly kissing the floor.
Tears streamed from Nathalie's eyes as she looked at her mother's dead body. 'Is this how it's supposed to happen? You hold my brother's head and I hold yours? Is this all my fault?' She thought, her body mimicking the symptoms of a seizure. Her bottom lip quivered with tremendous fury, her body shaking as if someone had her by her shoulders and was beating the life out of her.
"Dear Mommy, shouldn't have moved." Markus chuckled, his gun to his side now. Klaudios' eyes watched as Nathalie crawled towards her mother, her hands gripping onto the dead woman's shoulders.
"Get up!" Klaudios shouted, his hand reaching for Nathalie, hauling her up and onto her feet. With both hands held tight on her arms, he picked her up until she was eye level with him, her mascara bleeding down her face. "You can never escape! You will never be free! You are mine!" Klaudios shouted, a hand letting her go to back hand her face.
"Do you understand, sweet Nightingale, that not even your precious Opera Ghost can save you now?"
"You said he would be here!" Nathalie shouted, her voice raspy as the tears moved down her throat, burning alone the way.
"I lied. You should have remembered. Do you not remember? Do you not remember me?" He shouted again, his hand slapping her across the face for a second time.
Nathalie cried out, her cheek stinging as she shook her head. "I'd never remember a monster like you." She hissed, her fear now gone and the hatred now burning up inside her.
"You should. You're the one who made me this way."
"I've never even met you! I don't remember you!"
"Greece, 1864, your birthplace, your home until you fucking mother stole you from me!" Klaudios shouted, his face inches from Nathalie's.
Nathalie's anger faded, her memories flooding back with a dam breaking. She searched his angered face with her blue eyes, placing the pieces together. Her eyebrows scrunched up, her lips pulled into a deathly sneer.
"You!"
"You remember, finally. Markus, prepare the carriage, the woman remembers her promise." He hissed the last word, his face moving in closer to Nathalie's.
"I made no promise to you."
"Oh no? You never promised we would rule as King and Queen? You never promised you would never leave me? I think you better deliberate a little harder, Nightingale."
Nathalie's spit came flying out of her mouth, landing in the eyes of the man holding her. "I was four! You should have let it go! It was nothing but a play thing and you, you believed I really loved you when I never loved you! It was a game, it's time now for you to remember!" Nathalie shouted, kicking up and in between the legs of Klaudios.
His hands let her go, dropping her to the stage. Nathalie stood quickly, grabbing her skirt and beginning her run as she tried escaping. If Erik wasn't going to help her, then she'd need to do something on her own.
Hands grabbed her stomach, wrapping her up into a tight bind and pulling her high into the air as her screams and kicks pounded through the air.
"You're going nowhere, Nightingale!" Klaudios shouted, turning her screaming and kicking body around and walked her back to the center of the stage where Markus and the bloody corpse of her mother were.
"I swear to God above, I will kill you! I will rot in jail happily to see you die by my hands!" Nathalie screamed, cursing in French to the high heavens above and vowing to never let this go.
"Oh, shut up!" Klaudios shouted, throwing her to the ground, a sickening thud reverberated through-out the empty auditorium.
Another blood-curdling scream came from her raspy throat as she held onto her wrist. She writhed in pain and the tears were endless streams coming from under her eyelids. She turned over, her head resting on top of the woman's corpses' stomach.
A loud thud exploded on stage, the sound of boots colliding hard with the wooden stage held everyone's attention.
His hands were clenched tightly together, his nails digging into his soft palms and drawing blood. A low growl rumbled through his chest as he stepped forward, his brilliant green eyes on Markus and Klaudios. With his mask gone and his wig strewn across the stone floor of his lair, he wasn't a sight to behold. His face mixed with undisputed rage and scars were devastating enough to scare grown men, yet the two men who watched him appear from the shadows of stage only watched with no amusement.
Klaudios' sharp amber eyes burned into Markus. "Why is he here?" Klaudios seethed, his eyes leaving his friend and back at the deformed man.
"Edio," Markus whispered, his teeth grinding against each other as he thought of the young man.
The gun cocked itself behind his head. "Right you are, Markus."
The look on Markus' face could only be described as fear as his eyes grew wide, his hands sweating as the gun pressed against her bald head.
"Now, now, dear Edio, we wouldn't want to do anything drastic now, would we?" Klaudios watched as his former employee threaten the life of his old friend.
"No, I really think I want to do something drastic as you put it, Klaudios." Edio said, his eyes now looking as Erik walked forward towards the young woman laying on the ground. "Why don't you tell her why her family is really dead, Klaudios? Why don't you tell her you did it? And Markus, why don't you tell her you gave her those scars society cannot look beyond?" Edio seethed.
Nathalie stopped breathing as she watched Klaudios' reaction. His eyes narrowed to golden slits as he thought of something to say.
"Yes, I did it." Klaudios said softly, his sentence barely audible.
"So they can hear you!" Edio shouted.
"I did it! I killed them! I killed your beloved Andrew and all the others! It was me, Nightingale. I killed them all." He gave a roaring laughter as Markus chuckled, watching as the young woman cringed.
The gunshot broke the maniacal Greek's laughter as Markus' hard body dropped to the floor, joining the older woman.
Klaudios turned towards Edio, his breath caught in his throat as his eyes bulged from their sockets.
Edio stood shaking, looking down at the man's blood slowly escaping, mixing in with the cold blood of Bridgette.
"Oh, my God..." Edio whispered, dropping the gun to the floor, his hands pulled up to his mouth as he watched the blood soak his leather shoes. Edio fell to his knees, his dark chocolate eyes on the older man he had just killed. "W-What have I done?" The young man's bottom lip quivered as silent tears streamed down his face.
"You killed him, you bastard." Klaudios said as he walked over to the sulking man, the young man's face in his hands. "Why did you kill him? He was nothing but kind to you, Edio." Klaudios silently stalked over to Edio, his amber eyes glittering with something mischievous.
"I-I didn't mean to... He... He was going to kill her."
"And yet you killed him! Making you a murderer!" Klaudios shouted, his thick accent filling the air as he stood behind Edio, tightening the grip on the blade of the dagger.
"I didn't want to kill him! I-" the sound of his voice was cut off by the blood gurgling in his throat. Klaudios' swift hand sliced into the neck of the kneeling young man from behind. The blood spraying off in many different directions, sparkled in the gas lamps of the stage, emanating a soft bloody fountain.
Nathalie screamed as the blood spray all over her long white dress, speckling it in the crimson glory.
Erik walked forward, Nathalie almost in his reach.
"Make one more move and I swear to Zeus, you'll fall where you stand." Klaudios hissed, the fallen gun in his free hand.
Erik paused, not wanting to test the insane prince. As his eyebrows brought themselves down, Erik barred his teeth at the radical man.
"That's better. Now," Klaudios walked slowly towards Nathalie, picking her up by her hair and pulling her to her feet, wrapping her in his arms once again. "Dear Nightingale, if you would ever be so kind as to tell this man to leave us be, we can continue on with our lives as they were meant to me."
Nathalie's hard breath wheezed out of her, her eyes red from all the tears she shed and the black mascara falling in them. Nathalie watched Erik, her heart beating as her hands stuck by her sides, her shoulders held captive by Klaudios' arms wrapped around them.
"E-Erik?" She whispered, watching as he shook with fury.
"Don't do it, Nathalie. I will make you safe, I promise." He managed to say through his closed teeth, watching as Klaudios' eyebrow raised at the interaction.
"Tell him 'no', Nathalie. Tell him you never want to see him again. Tell him he's 'a monster', the Devil's own creation to be the laughing stock of all humanity." Klaudios whispered softly in her ear, watching as the deformed man held his gaze.
Nathalie couldn't breathe, her hand barely able to travel up to her stomach as she rubbed the hidden bump. Another slew of tears escaped her eyes as she gently caressed the unborn child. As she began to slowly shake her head, she looked only at Erik. Her blue eyes flooding with the tears and memories they created together. "I'm sorry," she whispered to him, choking on her sobs as her hand left her stomach.
"Sorry for what?" Klaudios seethed, waiting to hear the woman say all the horrible things about the man standing in front of them.
"I'm sorry for only loving you, Erik."
Klaudios' head snapped up as he looked at the side of Nathalie's tear-streaked face. Her body shook tremendously in his hold as she never looked away from him. He forced himself to look away and at the hideous man standing as his own eyes filled with tears.
"I'm sorry for only loving you, always being yours and I will never, ever be his, even if it kills me! I am not a toy to be thrown around!" She shouted, her eyes closing as she shook her head. "I'd rather die than love him!" She screamed at the end, her eyes squeezed shut as she shook her head fiercely.
"Exactly." Klaudios whispered.
She never saw the knife as it's tipped pointed towards her head, driving hard and fast into her porcelain skin, breaking through the hard sternum. The sharp blade pierced her heart, cut the nerves in two, split their world in half.
Everything was silent.
Everything played out in slow-motion.
Erik leapt over the three fallen bodies as Klaudios dropped Nathalie to the floor, dagger still in her heart as he began raising the gun as quickly as he could.
Erik grabbed hold of his rising wrist with ease, using his other hand to bend the wrist backwards until a sickening crack indicated it was completely broken and useless, the gun falling out of the Greek's fingers.
Erik reached for the falling gun, catching it quickly and placing the metal barrel against the frightened man's forehead. With a single muscle pulling the trigger, the prince known as Klaudios, was no more.
The bullet escaped from the backside of his head, the pieces of skull flying away into the vacant seats of the audience. The brain matter separated, leaving a perfect circle in the middle as it sent one last message to the body, ceasing all blood flow. His body fell slowly onto the gas lamps of the stage, his white and gold tuxedo coat catching fire as he rolled off the stage and into the abandoned orchestra pit below.
Erik watched as his body fell, throwing the gun into the consuming fire of the man's dead body.
He spun around hard, falling on his hands and knees as he looked at the tear-filled face of Nathalie. His hands reached out for her, his hands shaking as he watched the blood trickle out of the corners of her mouth. He hadn't even noticed her deafening screams as he pulled her in close to him.
As he held her slow-growing cold body into his warm chest, her screams were calming down into the wrongful cries. She looked at her blood-covered hands and at the dagger still in her chest, proudly displaying for all to see. As her chest heaved up and down, so did the dagger, never leaning side to side. It was held tight in the bone and heart, the blood pumping out of her body as well as through her cold limbs.
Erik's tears were falling on her face as he shushed her, calming her and shaking his head. His hands held her arms, his fingers relishing in the soft skin he knew he would be losing shortly.
"Get it out of me!" She screamed, her mouth wide open as she screamed again, pain exploding through her body as the tip of the knife scratched her insides as she breathed fast and heavily. Blood came up through her throat, muting the screams only a little as she coughed out the blood, swallowing most of it as if trying to keep it in her.
"I can't, it'll only kill you!" Erik cried back, his hand traveling to her face and stroking her mascara-stained cheeks. The black stains smeared under his thumb, leaving her looking like a ragged mess but, in Erik's eyes, she was the pinnacle of beauty. No more Christine, no more of her chocolate brown eyes that deceived him. He knew her life with that man was who she wanted and Erik accepted that once Nathalie came into his life.
Her bright blue eyes and raven black hair were only a thing a madman would create, something out of a Shakespeare play. She was submissive yet, she fought in the time of danger. She needed to fight now, she needed to hold on.
"Please hold on, please..." Erik cried out, choking on his tears and finally giving in as it took him in it's depressing hold.
Nathalie screamed again, hearing Erik's voice sound through her ears and realizing she'll never grow old with him. She'll never see their child be born; she knew her child was dying. Her body arched upwards, another deafening scream filling the auditorium. "I don't want to die!" She screamed over and over, her dress soaking up the slow-flowing blood. The lace corset filled with the liquid, soaking it up sweetly as it spread evenly through-out the dress.
Nathalie's fingers traveled into her chest, feeling the warm blade and the separation of skin. She pressed into the skin, feeling it's split and the thin muscle. As she pulled against the skin, Erik's hands grabbed hers, taking them away from the wound.
"I want it out! I don't care!"
"You don't care if you die on me?" Erik screamed back, his tears having fallen on her face.
Nathalie looked up into his eyes, her screams having stopped. The pain having ceased for only a short moment, she grabbed his face, pulling him down to her.
As their lips connected, Erik broke down, his lips parting to let out the angry and heart-breaking sobs. His fingers ran through her hair, taking out all the bobby pins and pulling the hair free of all restraints. As her hair fell down completely, she looked as beautiful as she did the first time ever saw her.
That sweet little girl and those gorgeous blue eyes in the middle of the snow-ridden night. Her remembered her and the night he saved her, catching her from falling as he held her in his arms, her face red from the Absinthe she flooded her body with.
"Don't leave me," Erik choked out, his tears falling on her face.
"I'll never..." blood began to pour out to of her mouth slowly, interrupting her. As she swallowed the thick liquid, her eyes watered, feeling the large lump go down her throat. "I'll never leave you," she breathed out, her breaths staggered as she brought her hand to his face.
His lips took hers once again; the taste of blood sweeping over his tongue like wildfire. His tears mixed in with hers as his lips moved passionately around in what could be their last and most real kiss they would ever share.
The sound of metal clanking on the floor brought Erik up and out of the kiss, looking down as the knife had disappeared from her chest and reappeared in her hand to her side.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, shivering as her heart started beating ferociously, the blood pulsing out of the large wound in her chest. As the blood fell down her gown, the red began showing on the white lace, making a small puddle where it could travel down no more and the material took it in like a dry sponge breathing in the water it so desperately needed.
"No, no!" Erik shouted, his hand pressing hard onto her chest, pushing as hard as he could to keep the blood in. "You promised you'll never leave me!" He shouted at her again, the blood traveling up his hand and staining the end of his white shirt. As he shook his head, her hand caressed his smooth features, tracing the wrinkles in his forehead as he stared at his hand and the blood covering it.
She was motionless.
She was cold.
He stopped breathing. His eyes frantically moving back and forth between her face as her lifeless eyes gazed into the dark rafters of the opera house.
His bloody hand left her chest, slowly moving towards her face. As his finger touched her chin, the blood coated her soft flesh, his screaming ensued. He ran his hand towards her cheek, blood smeared perfectly in the mascara that coated her cheeks.
As his screams filled the auditorium, the police ran in, the rifles held close to their bodies. The Commander held his arm high, stopping them from continuing on as a small fire raged on in the orchestra pit, catching fire to all sheet music and the wooden chairs. The old man commanding them looked up onto the stage, his dull gray eyes watching as the man sobbed and screamed on stage, holding the body of a woman. With his back facing the squad of police, the Commander motioned for his men to leave and let the man cry. The report of a large man killing another young man wasn't the one on stage, they let him be before they were to question him.
Erik listened intently as they left, hearing the doors close as he pulled Nathalie's dead body into his arms. With every ounce of strength he had left, he ran. He didn't care where he ran, but he needed to run from those men. As he pushed through the curtains of the stage, careful as to not hit Nathalie's head on anything, he burst through the backdoor, his feet crunching heavily in the snow.
…
"Stay low, soft dark and dreamless
Far beneath my nightmares and loneliness.
I hate me for not breathing without you
I don't want to feel anymore for you.
Grieving you, I'm not grieving for you
Nothing real love can't undo.
And though I may have lost my way
All paths lead straight to you.
I long to be like you.
Lie cold in the ground like you," he sang softly, his eyes only on the freshly upturned earth with the large marble headstone as the only marker as to where she lay.
He held himself high, his tuxedo coat lying in the cold grass somewhere near a tree. His vest was unbuttoned, his white shirt falling out of his black trousers as he stood calmly, the full moon lighting up the dark cemetery he stood quietly in.
"I miss you, Nathalie," he whispered, a single tear dropping from his thick eyelashes. He read the headstone, the headstone he bought for her.
A small sparrow was carved into the side as another sparrow was carved on the other side below it, it's wing and feathers destroyed as to his request. The eye of the second sparrow was gone, showing the deformity only he could understand. A picture of her was framed elegantly in the middle of the top, her name under it. 'Nathalie André Destler'. Another tear fell and he wiped it off with a swift motion of his gloved hand.
"Say you'll love me every waking moment
Turn my head with talk of summertime
Say you'll need me with you now and always..." Erik sang, his eyes watering with the memory of Chrstine singing and confessing her love to Raoul.
"Promise me that all you say is true..." His head snapped up, swearing Nathalie's voice whispered in his ear.
"Love me, that's all I ask of you..." He sang along with Nathalie's ghostly voice, his eyes closing as he pictured the two of them standing together, their fingers intertwined as they sang, their lips inches apart.
As he turned to leave, a light wind began to blow, the trees lightly swaying in the wind. A soft thud sounded and Erik turned, looking at the ground. A large red apple fell from the tree above yet, no other apples were hanging from it's branches. As he bent down to grab the apple, he looked towards her grave, catching a glimpse of something that stopped his heart.
There she sat, a little boy in her arms as they smiled at him. A soft ethereal glow outlined their figures. She held him as he smiled, his short arms reaching out for him. Erik stood up, the apple in his grasp. He softly walked towards them, as if some sudden noise would scare them off.
Her blue eyes met his and with a warm smile, she mouthed, 'I love you'. She looked away only for a second, the young boy in her arms jumping as Erik neared them, his heart pounding faster and faster in his chest.
The little boy smiled, his green eyes speckled with blue as he looked at Erik, a muted laugh coming from his pink lips. His black hair was tossed to the side and his white shirt buttoned almost to the top.
Erik was almost there. "Please don't leave," he whispered, his free hand reaching out for the two.
Her blue eyes looked up at him, placing the boy on the ground and standing now, facing Erik fully as he was only inches from her.
"I thought you'd never come back," she whispered, her voice echoing in his ears as she smiled up at him.
"I thought you had left me for good." He said back, tears falling out of his eyes as her hands took his face. Her touch felt as if she had never left; her warm hands proving to Erik that she was still here.
"Daddy!" A small voice shouted, shaking the attention away from the two standing.
Erik looked down as the boy reached up, his hands opening and closing as he signaled for him to take him. Erik looked to Nathalie, her soft smile and a nod assuring him it was okay. As he knelt down to pick the boy up, everything in Erik's life stopped. He smiled, his life felt complete. The boy wrapped his arms around his neck and Erik gasped. The child who just called him 'Daddy' was holding him. Erik hugged the boy back, his tears soaking the child's white shirt.
Nathalie placed her hand on his shoulder and Erik looked up, her eyes smiling up at him. Erik's arm wrapped around her, pulling her into a tight embrace as he held the boy.
"Did you get me that apple, Daddy?" The boy asked, Erik nodding as he held the large red apple up. The boy's face was one of delight, taking the apple and biting it with his small mouth, closing his eyes as he chewed the delicious fruit. "Thank you, Daddy!"
"You're welcome," Erik smiled back, looking as Nathalie rubbed the child's back.
"I've missed you," Nathalie said as her gaze turned towards Erik's, their eyes locking onto one another.
"You don't know how long I've missed you." He replied back. "Five years has been too long." He kissed her forehead, his eyes closing as she sighed against his chest.
"I never got to tell you that I loved you," she whispered as his lips kept kissing her forehead, taking her sadness away.
"You didn't need to; I've known it all along." Erik began to cry as Nathalie looked up into his eyes, taking his lips in hers.
As their tongues danced to their own private tune they knew so well, they began to fade. Erik's lips never letting go of her's as she wrapped her arms around his neck, keeping him close to her, never parting with him, no matter the price.
"I'll never let go," she whispered as she broke the kiss.
"I know,"
…
They laughed together as they listened to their friend's dirty joke, taking their morning route in the cemetery. The two old men smiled as they each bounced a joke off each other, laughing out loud as they stepped around the headstones of the cemetery.
"Oy, mate, d'you remember that lass I saw last night?" The tall one asked in his Irish accent.
"I do, go on." Replied the other as his pockets shoved deep into his pants.
"Well, that bonny lass there got me so hard, I-" the two stopped, their attention on the sight before them.
In the dense fog of that Spring morning, a cold and stiff body lay. His tuxedo coat in the cold grass in front of their feet next to the tree as they turned the corner of the new headstone just put in.
As they neared closer and the fog dispersing just a tad, a man lay against the headstone, his back towards them as they neared, his white shirt soaked in the new morning dew. His black vest was unbuttoned and his arm he lay on was under his head as his other arm fell in front of his stomach. His legs had a slight curl to them as he lay on the upturned earth.
The man on the left walked over, his hand grabbing the man's arm. "Mate, are ya there?" he asked, shaking the stiff body.
A mask covered the right side of his face, his tanned skin pale.
"Looks dead, Herman."
The man knelt down nodded, looking around the body until he found something red. As he picked it up, a small bite lay in it's side, the inside of the apple now brown from being exposed in the air.
"Poor fellow; must've died from a heart attack." The second man said as he fiddled with the grass with his shoe.
The first man shook his head. "No, it must've been from a broken heart."
Little did they know, his heart was healed, unbroken. His death was a sweet one and he would never would change it. A love tried and true, broken once by a death inevitable. Erik Destler felt no pain as he went away, his soul with his one true love and their child as they were once again reunited, healing a broken heart.
"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime
Say the word and I will follow you
Share each day with me, each night, each morning.
Say you love me, you know I do.
Love me, that's all I ask of you..." Their voices silently sounded through the cemetery, living on.
THE END.
A/N: Will anyone else tell me they cried? Oh, my gosh, I was just balling as I was writing, my fiancee' ran out and held me, asking me what was wrong. As soon as I told him, he just sighed and walked away, going back to sleep. Lmao! Perfect.
"Like You" by Evanescence and "All I Ask Of You" by Andrew Lloyd Webber. PLEASE REVIEW AND TELL ME IF YOU CRIED ALSO! TELL ME IF YOU LOVED IT OR HATED IT! THANK YOU ALL ONCE AGAIN. MY CAPS BUTTON IS BROKEN, LOL.
-Laania