Hi, guys. Sorry for the delay. I hope that I still have readers left. I'm almost done with school and about to begin the job hunt. Hopefully, you'll see another update within the next few weeks.

This vignette is appropriate for everyone and will hopefully leave you in a good mood. A big thanks to everyone who is continuing to read. Thanks to MadLizzy for her editing.

Read and Review!

The metal scissors glinted off the glow of the dim kitchen lights. Placing his bony fingers into the two holes, he separated the blades. Slowly, he slid them over the boy's neck, positioning the sharp edges to slice downward and sever the head. He glared as the pair of blue eyes innocently stared up at him. I have always wanted to do this, boy.

He hesitated, wondering how angry his beloved wife would become by this act. But how he longed to hear that gentle clipping sound as the scissors cut into the crisp material!

But it might upset Christine.

Damned photographs!

It had all began innocently enough. As usual, he had been left alone when his sweet wife departed for work. For several hours, he had attempted to focus on his music but remained uninspired and unable to concentrate. The notes did not flow from his fingers as they once had, leaving him frustrated. As he had paced around the small apartment with his hands folded behind his back, he'd noticed one of her old photo albums stashed away in a box. It was navy blue and bulky, with a sky-blue ribbon placed decoratively on the front. Naturally, he'd been rather curious. And she had never told him not to look.

There were pictures of Christine during holidays and birthdays. He was especially pleased by those of her timidly standing behind a microphone at her earliest recitals. She really was born to sing. There were a few pictures of her mother—that was where Christine had gotten her eyes—and many of her father.

But he'd suddenly come upon several pictures where she was with Chagny in youth. Until that point, he'd swept Chagny from his mind and pretended that the boy did not exist. And now that he'd discovered the joys that came with the nighttime, he felt even more possessive of Christine.

He did not bother to consider why she kept the pictures, only desiring to destroy them for intruding into his life. They could not be in his house. So he'd found a pair of new scissors inside a kitchen drawer and aimed to shred the photographs, or at least the parts that had Chagny in them.

He cut a small slit into one of the pictures, feeling something unpleasant tug at the back of his mind. He could practically hear Nadir chastising him.

Shut up, you foul Iranian!

After a second of hesitance, he set the photograph and scissors upon the kitchen table. A growl escaped the back of his throat as he encountered the dilemma. Why had she kept them in the first place? Unless she had forgotten about their existence? His love was occasionally forgetful at times. Yes, that was it.

He sat there and waited for her to come home. Perhaps they could destroy the pictures together! Jumping up from the chair, he found a pair of purple scissors and placed them upon the table for her to use.

About a half an hour later, the front door opened and closed with a soft squeak. "Hello?" she asked, likely used to him greeting her at the entrance.

"I am in the kitchen, my love."

"Oh, okay!" He heard a jingle as she put her car keys on the table. "I think it's going to rain soon. We'll have to make sure that spot in the laundry room doesn't leak." Her voice became louder as she walked closer. "What did you want to do for…?" Christine arrived in the kitchen and looked at him. "What are you doing?"And then she stared downward, bending slightly for closer inspection. "Erik! What…" Her eyes widened. "What in the world are you doing?"

He sat up straight in the chair. "You forgot to dispose of these. I was merely assisting you."

"I don't want to destroy those!"

His eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Because they're a part of my childhood," she replied, quickly reaching over and gathering them up.

"But it is him!"

"And he was my friend when I was like six or seven. We had fun together as kids."

"But he is irritating. And he cannot have you."

She shook her head in exasperation. "He doesn't have me!"

"But I do not want him in my house. It has been so good to forget him. Forever. He no longer exists."

"For the love of-Fine, Erik!" She sat down at the table, pushed the pictures back toward him, and crossed her arms. "If it makes you feel better, then destroy the pictures. If it really hurts you that much, then go ahead and cut them up."

He looked down at the pictures and then back at her. Then down at the pictures and back to her again.

Christine was angry.

"Perhaps you should destroy them," he stated, shifting uncomfortably. "I retrieved scissors for you."

"I'm not going to cut up the pictures. They're no different than the other ones I kept where I was with my friends. " He said nothing, merely watching her. She spoke again, her voice softer. "I did get rid of the ones where Raoul and I were older and engaged, though."

He pushed the pictures back to her, suddenly feeling as though the last several hours had been completely ridiculous. Shame descended upon him. Christine stacked the pictures together and turned them face-down. He wondered if she would take his scissors away.

His mother had taken his scissors away once. He'd been trying to cut colored paper during some childish artistic endeavor, but she hadn't wanted him to make a mess. She'd yanked away the scissors and sent him to his room.

But Christine didn't take his scissors away.

An amused smile suddenly formed on her lips, as though she were trying not to laugh. Christine stood and walked up behind him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and kissing the top of his head. "Who did I marry?"

He closed his eyes. "You married Erik."

"I did," she agreed. "Because I love him."

"I still despise the boy."

"Well, that's fine…as long as you two remain separated." Christine left him and retrieved the photo album before returning and putting the pictures in their proper places. She then flipped to the end and stared at the blank pages. "We should have a picture together."

He shuddered. "But it is…grotesque."

"It is not. We're married, and I want a photograph of us."

"Perhaps merely a photograph of you."

Her hand slipped into his. "But I want one of us together."

He hesitated, watching as their wedding rings sparkled side-by-side. "We will see."

At her request, they went out that evening. The skies were delightfully covered with grey, puffy clouds, and the fresh ocean air seemed to calm his mind and bring clarity. Fortunately, there were not too many other souls out because of the light rain. They took a short walk around a plaza, and he enjoyed watching her as she looked into shop windows. She remained in a pet shop for nearly ten minutes and played with the animals. He kept his distance in a shadowed corner because the dogs tended to bark and growl at him. And Christine would not appreciate it if he permanently silenced the beasts. Instead, he stayed near the reptiles; the speckled snakes and turtles did not seem to mind his presence.

When she emerged, Christine immediately took his hand. "That was fun! They had the cutest Collie puppy."

He wondered briefly how Christine could enjoy tiny, fuzzy creatures and still look upon his face with love. Perhaps he would never have the answer to that. He merely contented himself with the pressure of her cheek resting against his arm.

When they arrived home, he noticed a blinking message on their answering machine. He was eager to take his wife to bed and delight her, though, so he said nothing. His evening plans were altogether successful.

Of course, she noticed it the following morning.

"We have a message, Erik! I didn't even see it last night."

"Ah."

She pushed play, and a familiar voice spoke from the recording.

"Hey, Christine. Erik. It's Gavin. It's been awhile since I've seen you both. Um…anyway, my wife went to see her family this weekend. I was wondering if you'd want to visit for a little bit. Let me know. Bye."

He felt mildly irked. It'd been some time since he'd been near anyone outside of Christine.

She looked up at him. "Oh. Erik, we should invite him over. Just for a little while." Her eyes questioned him, letting him make the final decision.

"You want to invite him here?"

She shrugged. "I was thinking that. I mean, I could meet him somewhere else. But he might like to see you."

"I am sure the thought of seeing me thrills him." He hesitated as she continued to wait for his answer. At least he was fairly sure that Mr. Lewis had no romantic interest in Christine. "Do what makes you happy," he said without malice. "So long as he tells no one of our whereabouts."

Her face brightened, and she kissed his cheek before leaving to return the phone call. Mr. Lewis came over the following day, knocking twice at the front door. Christine welcomed him and led him into their living area.

"This is nice," Mr. Lewis said. "Kind of…cozy."

"Thanks," Christine replied. "I'd like to add a little more furniture."

He was standing in a corner of the kitchen, growing tense at the idea of someone entering his domain. Christine came in and grabbed his hand. "Come out here, Erik." She led him to the couch and pulled him down beside her. He made sure his mask was properly in place.

Mr. Lewis shifted. "Erik. How are you?"

"Well."

"Great!"

Christine looked between them as a silence settled over the room. She finally spoke again. "So…what have you been up to? When does your baby come?"

Mr. Lewis smiled. "In about two months. Did I tell you we're having a girl?"

"No. That's great! How's Marisol?"

"She's well. She's at her mother's house right now. I…uh…try to avoid her parents." He chuckled.

Christine laughed, but there was a glint of sadness in her eyes. "Yeah. I guess in-laws are one thing that Erik and I don't have to worry about."

He shifted, suddenly picturing his own mother asking Christine why in God's name she had married her monstrous son. And he somehow doubted that Christine's father would have approved of his daughter's choice.

Mr. Lewis asked Christine what they had been 'up to,' and the two of them chatted for awhile. He stayed silent, only cringing when Mr. Lewis asked her about work.

"Work is fine," she replied with a shrug. "Not that exciting. But I'm lucky to have a job. How's your work?"

"I'm part-time right now. I'm still trying to make a decision about a permanent position. There's a lot of travel in some of the better jobs…and Marisol doesn't like that." His expression darkened slightly, and he glanced down and cleared his throat. "But we'll see."

They changed topics to entertainment that could be found in the city, and he began to think that the visit would end with his sanity intact. Mr. Lewis stood about a half an hour later and stretched. "Well, I guess I'd better head off. Did you want me to…?" He looked between them and started to reach for a small black case on the table.

Christine's eyes widened as though she'd forgotten something. "Oh! Yes! Just a minute."

He felt himself tense as Christine led him toward the kitchen, wondering what sort of horror was to be visited upon him.

"Erik?" she asked in a quiet voice.

"Yes?"

"I um…I asked Gavin to take our picture."

"What?"

She winced. "He brought his old Polaroid camera. No one will ever see the pictures. Please, Erik."

"It will be very ugly. Or half of it will be."

"No, it won't," she whispered. "You don't even have to see it. But I want it."

"I am not removing my mask for it."

"I wouldn't make you do that," she replied, placing a hand on his arm.

"Fine." He stiffly returned to the living room with her, fingers curled. Christine stood close to him so that their shoulders were touching. Mr. Lewis slowly held up an older camera, giving him an uneasy glance.

"Be done with it," he commanded.

"Right," Mr. Lewis replied. The young man was not stupid enough to tell them to smile. He took the first picture and laid it out to dry. He then started to ready the camera for a second one.

"Wait a second," murmured Christine. She turned slightly to the side and wrapped an arm around his narrow back. He clumsily put an arm around her shoulders, feeling disoriented. It was the first time in his life that he'd willingly had his picture taken, and it was...disconcerting. The camera flashed a second time, and the picture developed. He stood back as Mr. Lewis and Christine huddled over the photographs.

"Aw. They turned out great," said Christine after a minute. "Thanks, Gavin."

"No problem. You guys have a good day."

Christine followed Mr. Lewis outside as he departed. They talked for several minutes beside the young man's car, and he discreetly watched them from the window. Jealousy tugged at him. He hated her attention on anyone else, even though it was likely that she dealt with other males during work. The idea of complete isolation was still appealing.

Still, she was not his hostage now. He could never make her stay. Well, technically he could take her somewhere and tie her up; then she would stay. In the past, he would have seriously considered the idea. But now he wanted her to stay because she was happy with him.

He finally glanced at the pictures. As expected, he was a giant, black…thing. She was smiling, though. And it didn't appear to be a fake smile for the camera. He stared at the picture; he didn't hate it.

Oh, he didn't like himself. But he liked that she was beside him. It was tangible, visual proof of his current life. The world would see it and have to accept it as the truth.

The world could see it? No.

The world could hear it….

With a quick scoop of his hand, he grabbed the pictures and dashed into their bedroom, shutting and locking the door. He did not care that she was still outside with Mr. Lewis. After all she had been through for his sake, she would not easily abandon him now. In his heart, he knew this.

After removing his mask, he picked up a red ink pen and his expensive paper. He stood against the wall, closed his eyes, and tilted his head back against the white plaster. Little black and red notes jumped and swirled around in his head like a deck of cards fluttering to the ground.

As he began to transcribe the first few notes, there was a knock at the bedroom door. "Erik?" His wife sounded rather confused. "Are you in there?"

"Yes," he replied, his mind still half in his music.

"Are you…okay?"

"I believe so."

All was silent for a moment, and he started to compose again. "Erik!" she suddenly yelled. "Where are the pictures of us?"

"I have them," he replied.

"You're not cutting them up, are you?" She sounded panicked.

"No, my dear."

"If you hurt those pictures, I swear that I'll…I'll…."

He chuckled. "Surely after spending so much time with me, you can make a proper threat."

"If you hurt those pictures, I'll kill you!" she exclaimed. He could hear humor seep into her voice, rendering her threat void. Plus, to hear his Christine say that she would kill anyone was amusing in itself.

He opened the door and looked down at her.

She stared up at him with wide eyes. "What are you doing?"

He held up the intact photographs. "It is my new inspiration," he stated. "I will not destroy them, but I must have them if you wish me to compose anything of value."

"Oh. Well, that's…that's good. I'm glad you like them." She glanced behind him and into the room, perhaps checking to make sure all was normal. Her eyes were slightly troubled as she looked back at him.

He touched her cheek. "What is wrong?"

She suddenly reached out and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "Nothing really," she murmured. "But…I think that by asking Gavin to come out to London, I confused him. He doesn't know what he wants now."

"He had better not want you." He tightened his hold on her. Despite his earlier introspection, old habits seemed to die hard.

"No. He definitely doesn't want me. I think he wants to travel, though."

"Oh."

She was silent for a moment. "I…sort of feel bad for Marisol. I hope nothing happens to them."

"Ah. That is…yes." He was not sure as to how he should respond to her admission of pitying another man's wife. As with most matters involving human interaction, it was a bit beyond him at that point. He could, however, sense that she did not want to be alone. So he gently took her hand and said, "You may stay with me as I compose." He left the door to their bedroom opened, and she followed him inside. "I must warn you that your husband is a bit insane right now, my dear. But it is a better sort of madness. I am mad with love! And no one will die as a result of it."

She sat on the bed with a curious smile and stayed with him throughout the afternoon and evening. Even as he crazily paced around the room and muttered to himself while gesticulating, she stayed with him. Even as he raised his fist into the air with a cry of triumph, she stayed. Perhaps he even accomplished more with her there; he would stare at her whenever he became stuck on a particular measure, and it would come to him.

He finally collapsed beside her on the bed, drained from his sudden bout of inspiration. He barely moved as her hands removed his black jacket and began to gently massage his bony back and shoulders. A soft sigh escaped his mouth, and he stared at her with adoration. She leaned in once to touch her lips to his.

The new music in his mind, her loving touch, and the immense appreciation in her eyes for him alone—if Mr. Lewis' visits always produced such things, perhaps he would invite the young man over more often.


His bitterness had faded to a sort of passiveness. Raoul had rested on the coastline of Florida for days on end, letting the sun tan his skin and allowing the sounds of the waves and vacationers to take over his mind. Some days he was fairly content and relaxed, feeling that he couldn't care less about anything else. Occasionally, he would still become depressed and angry over what the last year had done to his life. Either way, he felt as though he were trapped in limbo.

He met Hailey Walsh during his third week in Miami. They'd stayed together for six weeks, which was a new record since Christine. She was only twenty and majoring in English at a state school. As she was from Florida, Hailey had shown him around and taken him to some of the main tourist attractions over the last few weeks. (In Orlando, he'd taken comfort out of a hug from Minnie Mouse.) Although she knew who he was, most of the people in the state were less interested in him than they had been in London. To the retirees, vacationers, and other beach bums, Falcon was merely 'something that had been on the news.'

Raoul sat in the plush armchair of his hotel suite, watching as Hailey put her strawberry blonde hair into a bun. She started to change out of a white t-shirt that had the name of her sorority on the front and into a turquoise sundress. They were going out to dinner at a seafood restaurant and maybe to a rock concert if they felt like it.

"So how long do you think you'll stay in Florida?" she asked, putting on a little blush.

"I don't know," he replied. "Until whenever. I've got to head back to Chicago one of these days."

"Hm. I've never been there."

"Maybe you can come back with me." He frowned. "Oh, but you're going back to school soon."

"Meh." She shrugged. "I'll just take a semester off."

It probably would have been right of him to tell her to stay in school. But his moral compass had been spinning since London, and he didn't really care at the moment.

"You've been to England, too, right?" she asked.

"Yep."

"Wow. You've done all kinds of cool things. I've been stuck here my whole life."

Raoul gave a somber laugh. Yes, he'd done things. "It's not so bad here. I'd stay here."

"Yeah. I think I've spent half my life on the beach. At least all of high school, right?" Hailey laughed, a nice light laugh. He'd gone so far as to tickle her to hear it.

Raoul enjoyed her company. Or at least he didn't have to think too hard when he was with her. Hailey wasn't the most interesting girl he'd ever met, but she was friendly. And he wanted someone uncomplicated for the time being.

Christine had been complicated in a strange way. She was far from being an intellectual, but there were parts of her that he never quite understood. Maybe that had separated them in the end?

"We should go to the concert tonight," said Hailey, interrupting his thoughts.

He rubbed his eyes. "Who's playing?"

"I dunno. Local bands." She ruffled his hair. "You always have the saddest look on your face."

"I do not," he half-heartedly retorted.

"You do," she replied. "But it's cute."

Raoul grunted, wondering how he'd reached this state. "I guess we should get going," he said, standing up. "Where's my wallet?"

"Over here," she chirped, plucking if off the desk to hand to him. As she did, several items fell out of the pockets. "Whoops." She bent down to pick up a crumpled five dollar bill and business card. Hailey turned over the third item, and, to his dismay, it was a photograph he'd kept of Christine. He'd taken it when they'd first started dating.

Raoul bent down to quickly take the items back. Naturally, Hailey's green eyes stayed on the photograph. "Is…was that your fiancée?" she asked.

"Yep," he replied, avoiding her gaze.

"Oh."

He shoved everything back into his wallet and momentarily turned away from her, gathering himself. It hurt. But he realized that it no longer hurt as much as it once had. There was a sting of pain, and then the ache slowly dulled. Raoul turned back around and took her hand. "Ready to go?"

She smiled. "Yeah! I've heard this place is good."

They went out, and he had a decent time. Every so often, he thought of Christine and some of their dates, but she didn't completely consume his thoughts. The horrors of the last year were still present in his mind, but he realized that they didn't have to destroy him. He was young, wealthy, and in good health. The events involving Falcon were slowly fading into the past. Why should he spend the rest of his life being miserable?

A week later, Hailey left for a school orientation. He'd finally told her to go back for the semester, and she'd agreed. As he sat by himself in the hotel suite, he decided to make one last phone call to ease his mind. And, assuming all was well, he would let it go forever.

Swallowing, he dialed the number. It had taken him awhile to look it up. "Hello?" a familiar voice answered.

"Hey," he cautiously replied. "It's Raoul Chagny. How's it going?"

"Hey!" Gavin exclaimed. "You're the last person I expected to hear from. What's up?"

"Not much. I'm in Miami right now. Taking some time off."

"Great. You probably needed it."

"Yeah. It's been nice." They engaged in a few more words of small talk. A silence then passed as Gavin likely waited for him to state his reason for calling. Raoul hesitated. "So…uh…I was wondering…have you seen her at all? Are you in contact with…them?"

"Yeah." Gavin's voice became softer. "I saw them about a week ago."

Raoul's heart skipped a beat. "How is she?"

"She's doing good…seemed pretty happy…."

A lump formed in his throat. "Married?"

"Yeah."

"But you're sure she was doing well? She's safe?"

"Yeah. She's good. She's working, and they're living pretty quietly."

"Is she back in school?" Raoul asked.

"No," said Gavin. "I think they're still settling in and trying to make a living. But they're happy."

Strangely, Raoul felt a sense of peace come over him. In the past, a shameful part of him would have wished Christine to be miserable so that he could go rescue her from the fiend. But that feeling was gone now. He was happy that she was safe. "Will you do me a favor?" he asked.

"Uh…maybe." Gavin's voice was cautious.

"I'm not going to interfere," Raoul quickly said. "But I think this is something that's been a long time coming. Tell me if you don't agree. But I think I need to do it and move on."

"All right. What is it?"

Their conversation lasted another twenty-five minutes. Raoul hung up feeling better than he had in some time.

He broke up with Hailey a few weeks later. Well, those weren't the right words. He'd needed to go back to Chicago and told her to give him a call if she ever wanted to talk. They quickly lost touch. Other women came along, though, each one with her own desirable traits and flaws.

Finally, the right one appeared.