A/N: And here is chapter 6! This story has me really excited! I plan on updating soon. This is actually my most popular story this month! There is a major cliffhanger at the end, and I will be updating as soon as possible, which will be within the next few days, perhaps even tonight if I am motivated enough - so please to not complain about this. In this chapter, we begin to get a sense of Meg's insane-ness. Please review and tell me what you think! Critiques are always welcome.
Disclaimer: The song Meg sings belong the Andrew Lloyd Webber, from his newest musical 'Love Never Dies'. And also the song that Erik sings called 'Music of the Night' is from Andrew Lloyd Webber's 'Phantom of the Opera' - neither of which I own.
{Rose Diamund}
Eternally Yours
6. Breathless
It was early morning. A pale pink colored the sky, tinted with the sun's bland yellow rays. The half moon was still barely visible. Raoul lay in his bed on his back, staring up at the white marble ceiling. He thought of Christine, smiling. She was beautiful, with her tumbling dark brown curls. And shimmering, beautiful brown eyes. Her willowy, slender figure and her angelic voice. And she was still only a girl of seventeen.
When he had seen her yesterday, the youthful gleam in her eyes, the pureness of her smile… he had realized in that moment that his feelings hadn't changed for her since they were children. No, they hadn't changed. In fact, they'd grown. Perhaps a bit too strong, since he had only seen her once. But still, she enchanted him, with her youthful zeal and beauty. He was only four years her elder, a respectable age difference. Raoul's smile broadened, thinking of having Christine for his bride. She was a pretty little thing, so innocent. So pure. So ignorant of all the horrors and shadows of the world.
But… perhaps too pure. Too innocent. Much too easy to bewitch.
To pushed his doubts away. Christine was his old sweetheart - his future wife.
Meg awoke with a start. She knew it was early morning just by looking out the window. She sat up and yawned tiredly, looking about at all the sleeping chorus girls around her. She slipped quietly out of bed and quickly got dressed into a little white dress and her white ballet shoes, tying her hair back with a pale blue bow.
She walked slowly toward the door, and pulled it open just enough for her to slip out. She glanced back behind her just before she shut the door to be sure none of the girls had been woken. And then she headed down the hallways, her shoes only making a light brushing sound on the corridor's wooden floor.
Soon, she reached the front doors of the Opera, and just after peering behind her to be sure the coast was clear, Meg opened the door and exited the large white stone building, making her way down the streets of Paris.
At this time, the streets were mostly deserted. Only in the distant could you hear the faint sound of the carriage wheels on the pavement, or quietly echoing footsteps. Meg made her way to a lake. The lake was not too big, but certainly not small. The deep turquoise water shone dimly in the growing sunlight, waves gently lolling about.
Meg slipped off her shoes and pulled her dress over her head. Now all she wore was her underskirt and bodice. She let her hair loose, and set the bow on her neatly folded clothes. She stared out over the lake, her own quiet, serene lake, which she had gone to almost every morning for years now.
She took a small step into the water, instantly shuddering with cold, as the water wrapped around her ankles, soaking her in. Another step, then another until she was waist deep, the frigid water greeting her welcomingly. The feel of the cool water against her skin felt good, and Meg took in a deep, long breath before submerging herself under the water, feeling her hair loose its weight and float in the water, some blonde strands sticking her neck.
She stayed under for a few moments, before feeling her lungs begin to burn, screaming for air. She came up, the crisp, cold morning air breaking the lovely silence. She took a gasping breath, feeling as if her ears would freeze off. Winter was coming quickly, and soon the whole lake would be frozen over.
Meg rolled onto her back, her face just above the water, but her ears submerged so she couldn't hear anything. She closed her eyes, simply floating, allowing all the pain and hurt to wash away in the cold, fresh water.
And then she began to sing. A slow, frightening song. Her eyes were open and they seemed hollow as she sang, but she kept her ears beneath the water, hearing only her muffled voice.
"This town is coarse and cold and mean
It's hard to keep your conscience clean
Faceless in the crowd… Anything's allowed…
And so, I come at dawn each day… Come to wash it all away…
Sink into the sea, blue and cool and kind…
Let it set me free… Let the past unwind…
Leave… the… hurt… behind…"
Her eyes seemed almost lifeless, and you could see no soul within them. Her mind was blank. And she sang again.
"The world is hard, the world is mean
It's hard to keep your conscience clean…
The sea is came, the sea is grey
It washes everything… away…
Sink into the deep… Blue and cool and kind…
Then drift off to sleep…
Let the past unwind…
Leave… the… hurt… be… hind…"
Meg only stared at the sky, occasionally paddling her arms a bit to get herself moving. Soon, she felt her lips turning blue and she began to swim back to shore. When she got there, she took of all her clothes, and squeezed out the water until it was partially dry. She put her clothes back on, and began to walk back to the Opera.
Christine awoke to a man's voice. It was Erik's voice. He was singing.
"I am your Angel of Music… come to me Angel of music…"
"Erik?" She whispered, glancing around the room. "Erik, is that you?"
"I am your Angel of music… come to me Angel of Music…"
Her eyes darted around the room, and finally came to rest on the mirror. She held her gaze there, "Erik? Erik, where are you?"
And he was there. Standing in the mirror, looking almost exactly as he had the day before. His hand was extended, and he held it out, waiting for her to take it. Immediately, Christine slipped out of bed and began to make her way to the mirror. She took Erik's hand.
"Erik – "
Erik put his finger to his lips, silencing her. And then they began to go down into his lair. Christine could do nothing but watch him. He still fascinated her, in every move he made. This man… he had such a power over her. She could not understand it. Her only instinct was to obey it. He had protected her, guided her. Loved her. She could not resist him. How he mystified her. His voice, his music. Everything about him was bewitching. His eyes. Those deep, murky green eyes. How she longed to see a soul beneath their pain. How she yearned to find something in him. What it was – she had yet to find out. But something… She was searching for something in him. A part of him she knew was missing.
And even as she watched him, a part of her wanted to run. Wanted to hide from him, and all he was. She hardly knew him! She did not know what he was capable of, what he was thinking. And yet…
She could connect to him, in a way she had never felt with anybody else. They shared a passion, a fire, somewhere deep inside them. He was lodged somewhere deep in her heart, somewhere secret. Her mind beat against him, screaming for her to run. And she knew she would be wise to listen. But perhaps, she wasn't wise. Or perhaps it was just the power this man had over. This consuming passion. Whatever it was, she stayed with him, his hand in hers, walking down in silence to his lair.
Finally, they reached the lair. She stepped onto the stone floor, the slight dampness soaking through her cloth ballet shoes. But she didn't care. Not now.
Erik just watched her for the longest time, his eyes seeming to see straight through her, into her head, her heart. Looking deep within her soul. He seemed to be searching for something in her face, something… perhaps just as she was searching for something in him.
And then, he began to sing. His voice that of a true Angel, as she had always called him. She felt her eyes almost immediately flutter shut at the calming sound of his voice.
"Nighttime sharpens… Heightens each sensation…
Darkness stirs… and wakes imagination…
Silently the senses… abandon their defenses…"
He moved around her, mocking her silently. Daring her to move, to breathe.
"Slowly, gently… night unfurls its splendor
Grasp it, sense it… tremulous and tender…
Turn your thought away, from the garish light of day… Turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light…
And listen to the music of the night…"
Erik watched Christine intently, her eyes closed lightly. God, she was so beautiful. He sang to her, knowing how it enchanted her. Wanting desperation to take her in his arms.
"Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams,
Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before…
Close you eyes, let your spirit start… to soar…
And you'll live… as you've never lived… before…
Softly, deftly, music shall caress you…
Hear it, feel it… secretly possess you…
Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind… in this darkness, which you know… you cannot fight… The darkness of the music of the night…"
Her eyes opened as he took her hand and led her up the few steps, just past his organ, surrounded by all the beautiful burning candles.
"Let your mind start a journey through a strange new world…
Leave all thoughts of the life you new before…
Let your soul… take you where you long… to be!"
He stepped toward her, his gloved fingertips brushing against either of her cheeks, as he caressed her face gently.
"Only then… can you belong… to me…"
He turned her slowly, until her back was against his chest. And slowly, tenderly he ran his hand across her torso, downwards… running gently over her thigh.
"Floating… falling… sweet intoxication…"
His hand slightly brushed in between her thighs, and he heard Christine gasp and her eyes popped open. He hissed in her ear:
"Touch me… trust me… Savor each sensation…"
He felt her relax a bit, her eyes closing again. He pulled away from her, leaving her with the pleasurable sting of his warmth.
"Let the dream begin! Let your darker side give in!
To the power of the music… that I write… The power of the music of the night…"
His voice softened, and he looked at her with gentle eyes. Almost… pleading…
"You alone, can make my song… take flight…
Help me make… The music of the…
…Night…"
Christine just stared at him, his gentle, low voice still ringing through her ears. She felt serenity set in, and a peaceful quietness followed.
Meg sprinted whole-heartedly down the windy, cold stone stairs. Soon finding the boat and then rowing as quickly as she could to the lair. Her thoughts were all on Erik. She needed to see him.
No.
She needed him.
She mind raced, as she thought of what she would say to him. He had been the man she had loved for so many years. Someone to smile at her, and make her feel beautiful… Unlike all the other men…
She was just about to run into the lair when she realized the gate was open. Then she saw her. Christine. With Erik. He was holding her, caressing her hips. Singing to her. It was in the moment, Meg's heart tore to shreds. Watching them together.
When he had finished singing, the two stared at one another for a long time. Meg had hidden herself on the stone wall, just beside the gate. She peered in on them, trying to hide herself in the shadows; to not be seen.
"Christine…" Erik said, his eyes darting across her face. God, why did she stare at him like that? Like she could see deep inside him… "Christine. I can't… I needed…" God Almighty! What was happening to him? He had never felt so flustered, staring into her eyes. So beautiful, so pure. But much too beautiful. Not fitting for a beast as himself. A monster, condemned to the shadows forever. Not worthy of such an Angel. He took a deep breath, "I love you."
"I… I know…" Christine stuttered. "And I –" She stopped short, not allowing those three words to escape her lips. But why not? She found herself asking. Why couldn't she love him in return? No. She realized. There was too much unturned. Too much I don't know. He was keeping something from her… And suddenly, her focus was on his mask. What had he been hiding from? Why was he hidden in the shadows?
Why?
She advanced toward him slowly, breathing slowly. Who was that man in the shadows? Whose is the face in the mask?
And then, curiosity overpowered her. Questions filled her mind. Questions she would have answered. Now. And in one breathless moment, Christine lifted her hands to Erik's face, digging her fingers beneath the edges of his mask – and she ripped the mask from his face.