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Still shaking from my discovery on the stage, I briskly strolled back into my room, slamming the door behind me. Is he trying to get himself caught? Does he want to be found? I rifled through my drawers, looking for that blasted note. I searched through the entire dresser, worried when I did not come across it. I know I put it here somewhere...
I started to panic, crawling around on the floor, moving aside random articles of clothing strewn about. As I was looking I bumped into something tall and stiff. "Ouch," I complained, gazing upwards to see the letter in a pale, long-fingered hand.
"Trying to find this?" A familar, musical voice asked.
- - -
"Erik!" I hissed once we'd sat on the bed together, hand in hand. "What is going on? Do you have the slightest idea of what-"
He seemed amused. "Hush, my darling Christine. I know what I'm doing. The opera managers are far too clueless and unintelligent to ever catch me. If this is the only way my desires will be respected, then it must be done."
"But," I interjected, "Erik, why? Must you threaten them? Everyone is terrified, you can't-"
"Yes." he said authoritively, "I can. Don't you see, Christine? This face which condemns me to be an outcast, it invokes fear. Why not cause people to fear me without ever showing my face?" He seemed triumphant. "This is the only way I can have status and respect in my opera house, ma cherie."
I took a deep breath, trying to calm down and put myself in his position. What would I do if I was him? Not this, a small voice in my mind told me, but I kicked that aside. I was not a musical genius like Erik.
He sighed heavily and looked at me with a tired and somewhat relieved expression. "Christine," he murmured, carressing my brown waves. "I've missed you so..." Trembling slightly, he kissed me.
I had almost forgotten what it felt like to kiss Erik, to feel his gentle and loving touch against my skin. It felt different from anything else and lovely in its alieness. I could detect his joy at my return and the bittersweet emotion in that kiss, and I realized that I couldn't bear to leave him so melancholy again.
"Dear Christine," he said softly when we had stopped for a moment. "did you not enjoy my surprise? Everything I've done has been for you. Does that not please you?"
I spoke with understanding and an acute pang of guilt. "Erik, I shouldn't have gone. I shouldn't have left you here. I missed you terribly." At that, he merely met his lips to mine.
Once we'd relunctantly broken apart, Erik stood and grasped my hand. "Come," he beckoned. "I have something to show you."
I smiled up at him, happier than I realized now that he was with me. "Alright." I began leading him to the door, but Erik held me back.
"Not that way, ma petite moineau," he laughed and pulled me the opposite direction towards an ornate gold-adorned mirror that covered most of the wall. Immediately, seemingly of its own accord, the mirror crept sideways to reveal a cold, dark tunnel that sloped down into the theater's depths.
My mouth popped open in shock. "How-"
He simply grinned. "This way, mademoiselle." He led me into the passagway, the mirror closing once again behind us. The air was damp and went straight through my thin cream-colored dress. I shivered involuntarily, clutching myself closer to Erik.
Automatically he shrugged off his wool overcoat and placed it around my trembling shoulders. "It's not far, Christine." And even though I wasn't all that afraid with Erik there, I still clung to his arm like a child, my chocolate eyes wide.
A faint flickering glow greeted us after a winding bend, and then the tunnel opened up into the most impressive and majestic place I had ever set foot in.
I hope you liked it, R&R once again, and I do not own Phantom of the Opera (But oh I wish I did!!!)