Chapter Sixteen - The Kiss of Life
"Philippe!" Angelique shouted. "Get out of here, now!"
He was closer than she had expected for him to be, and this frightened her. Erik would not be pleased, and at such a crucial moment, he would be willing to murder the next idiot who came his way.
"Are you hurt?!" the Comte called to her, getting closer, and closer still.
"I'm fine, but you need to-!"
"Where's my brother?" he demanded to know.
Checking over her shoulder, she bit her lip anxiously. Erik had not emerged, at least not to her knowledge, so she would have to work fast. "He's in trouble – they, no, we are all in trouble here!"
The boat was not even a foot within reach when he lunged out, tumbling onto the pavement. Angelique knelt down beside him and helped him up, letting him grasp her shoulders for support. "Listen to me, Philippe, you need to get back on that boat and get out," she insisted, her voice low and firm. "If he finds you here-"
"Ah, so Angelique is entertaining a guest for Erik, is she?!"
Erik's arm magically appeared, striking out and separating the two before his magical lasso slipped over the Comte's neck. "What a pity the Siren could not greet you, monsieur, but then, she was occupied," he chuckled grotesquely.
Angelique shuddered, remembering how he had told her once about his "siren" that plagued the lake. "Erik, please! Let him go!" she demanded, latching onto his arm.
"Erik cannot, for the good Comte de Changy has trespassed," he snarled, tightening his hold while Philippe gasped and twisted his body in vain.
"Erik, I beg of you, if you think even the slightest bit of me, don't kill him!" she pleaded, her eyes burning as she spoke fiercely.
These words struck his mind, making his hold on the man slacken just a bit. He glanced at her, taking in her countenance. His jaw stiffened as he slipped the noose off and let the man fall to his knees, choking for air. "…go into the house," he ordered her quietly, the sternness in his voice making her shiver. "Release Christine and keep her company, won't you?" Kneeling down, he grabbed the weakened Comte and began to lead him away.
"Erik-!" she called out, fear filling her chest.
"Go!" he demanded, both he and his prisoner vanishing into the shadows and mist.
She stood there, forlorn and hurting, her eyes searching the darkness. Admitting defeat, she bowed her head and walked back inside, moving slowly until she was in the Louis-Philippe room once more.
"Angelique!" Christine gasped, looking over her shoulder as she watched her enter. "Heavens, what happened?! What did he do-?!"
"He's got Philippe," she stated flatly, grabbing a letter opener from a little desk that had always been locked and was now opened to reveal a set of shining knobs in the shapes of insects – the left being a scorpion, the right being a grasshopper.
"Philippe? The Comte de Chagny?!" she gasped, waiting until Angelique had cut her bonds before leaping to her feet. "This is madness – utter madness!" she wept. "What are we to do?!...wait, Angelique!" She grabbed her arm, falling to her knees, startling the seamstress. "Angelique, I beg of you, do something! He listens to you-!"
"Ha!" Angelique spat, her eyes stinging with fresh tears. "He never listens." "Not when it has to do with my heart."
"But he does! He listens to you more than he does to me!" she insisted. "Please, Angelique, talk some sense into him! I can't marry him, I don't love him, not that way!"
"I've been trying to show that stubborn man that I love him since we met, but he only wants you, Christine, and I'm not you!" Angelique cried, covering her face as she pulled away.
Christine gawked at her, stunned by the news. "…you…truly do-?"
"Truly do what?" Erik's voice asked smoothly, entering through his room.
The two girls yelped in surprise, shocked by his entrance. "E-Erik? But, but you had gone-" Christine stammered, pointing towards the front door.
"Erik had to drop the Comte off to see his brother," he smirked, his eyes wandering towards the slot that showed the torture chamber.
Both Christine and Angelique stared in horror as they realized what he had done. Rising to her feet, Christine ran to the wall, gasping as her fingers touched it. It was extremely warm, causing her stomach to twist uncomfortably within her. Peeping through the hole, she cried in terror as she saw the Persian, Raoul, and now Philippe, all delirious from the heat. "Erik," she choked, hopping off of the stool and extending her arms to him. "Please, let them go-!"
"You have a choice, Christine," Erik snarled. "Choose the Scorpion – you marry me and save the gentlemen within. Choose the Grasshopper and the opera house goes in flames. There is enough gunpowder to take out a quarter of Paris, all beneath our feet!"
"He's insane!" they heard Raoul shout out. "Don't touch them, Christine!"
"Silence, boy!" he shouted at the wall. "If you do not choose in two minutes, Christine, I shall turn the Grasshopper!"
"Erik, don't do this!" Angelique shouted, running over to them. Gripping his arm, to which he hissed in pain, she pleaded, "Don't make her choose, Erik – she doesn't love you!"
"She must!" he cried, yanking his arm free from her hold. He moaned wearily, touching his masked face. "If she cannot love Erik, then who-?"
"I love you, Erik!" Angelique blurted, the tears never stopping as she confessed. "I'll stay with you always, I swear it, just let them go!"
He laughed cruelly, pain shooting through her heart. "Of course, you say anything to appease, Erik…Angelique?" Panic consumed him as she fell to her knees, her face contorted in agony as she wept silently, her head bowed once more in defeat. "A-Angelique…?" That was when it hit him – she had said "I love you", she swore she would stay with him. He had rejected her and now she was brokenhearted at his feet. Trembling, he knelt down before her. "D-Did…Do you truly mean that, Angelique?" he asked, his shaking hand reaching for her.
"Erik, I choose the Scorpion!" Christine cried, giving the knob a violent turn.
Both Angelique and Erik's heads jerked upon hearing the news when another sound from within the torture chamber erupted. Something was gushing inside, the three men shouting out for help. Confused, Christine checked the slot in the wall, a horrified gasp escaping her. "Oh, no! Erik, make it stop! Please!"
"What happened?" Angelique asked, wiping her face as she heard the roaring sound of water.
"They're drowning! Mon Dieu, I've set off some trap mechanism!" Christine screeched, falling to her knees in utter despair.
Rising to his feet, Erik calmly walked to the desk and switched the knob back to its original position, smoothing his hair back in place. "If you wanted to turn it off, Christine, all you had to do was twist it back."
She gaped at him, unable to believe what he was saying. He was eerily cool and collected, as if he had straightened a painting upon the wall. He motioned for them to follow him, guiding them into his room. Christine winced as she entered, uncomfortable in this dank, death-like setting. Angelique pressed on, her face flushing as she realized she had probably made a huge mistake in telling him about her feelings. As she opened her mouth to speak, he jaw dropped as Erik revealed yet another hidden door in his room, leading to a stairwell that arose before them. Taking the lead, he guided them in the darkness until they arrived at a slab, another door before them. Reaching for it, he tugged the handle on the right until it slid open, the branches of the iron gibbet coming into view.
"The torture chamber," Angelique whispered, causing Christine to push past her to peek down.
"Raoul!" she cried, cupping her hand over her mouth as she sobbed.
The three men were soaked and unconscious, lying on the floor of the mirrored room.
"Erik…?" Angelique started.
"They are alive," he answered quietly, pulling his Punjab lasso from his belt and looping it over a hook that was placed above their heads. Using the rope, he swung himself down and grabbed the first man closest to him – Raoul de Chagny. Slipping the young man's torso through the widened loop, he tugged the rope until the limp man's body arrived at the doorway.
"Christine, help me," Angelique ordered, receiving immediate compliance from the frantic singer. She grasped his clothes and tugged him into the entrance as Angelique released him of the noose and sent it back down to Erik. The process was repeated for the two other gentlemen, with the exception that Christine remained by Raoul's side, fussing over him and mumbling her concerns for the unconscious wretch. At last, once the Persian had been pulled up, Erik used his lasso to climb back up, reaching for the edge when another hand grabbed his. His eyes soon met with Angelique's, filled with longing and despair, as she tugged him back into the passage. They stood before one another, silent, unable to speak, until Angelique turned away and walked towards Christine, instructing her to pick Raoul up by the legs while she slipped her arms under his and held him hp by the chest. "Let's get them into the drawing room," she suggested.
~OG~
It was several hours later when they all finally awoke, all three men stunned at the sight of being in a rather pleasant room with two ladies and a masked man caring for them.
"Chr-Chris-tine?" Raoul moaned, accepting her embrace though he gawked uncertainly at Erik's form.
"Oh, Raoul! Thank Heaven you're all right!" she sighed, kissing his brow.
"Mon Dieu…Erik?" the Daroga blinked, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What happened?"
"Angelique?" Philippe asked the moment his eyes opened. "Angelique! Thank God you're not hurt-!"
"I'm fine, but you're-" she started, freezing as she felt him wrap his arms around her.
Erik watched them all, silent and pensive, waiting until they felt the weight of his gaze upon them. With all sets of five eyes on him, he spoke at last. "Erik…apologizes…for the trouble you have all endured…" He swallowed hard, his throat tightening as he began to say the next part of his message. "…you are all free to leave."
No one moved. Not an eyelid blinked at his news, all of them utterly stunned by his words. "…Erik-?" Christine spoke up.
"Christine," he cut her off, pulling the gold ring from his pocket and walking to her. "Erik had hoped that you would wear this if…if you chose to be his…but he sees now that you would truly be unhappy with him. It was never meant to be." He offered her the ring in his palm nevertheless, his eyes full of calm and apology. "But he still hopes you will take this and think of him kindly every so often…"
"Oh Erik," she whispered, tears in her eyes as she took the ring from him. "Do you mean-?!"
"Go, marry your Vicomte," he urged her with a small smile. "Be happy." He stood perfectly still as she embraced him, kissing his masked face. He shivered, though it was not the same pleasant sensation he felt when Angelique had done so. Pulling away from her, he swept his gaze to the three men and Angelique, his tone firm and mournful. "Go, all of you. Leave this place and never return. Tell no one."
The group glanced at one another, uncertain what to think. Slowly, the men got to their feet, a little unstable as they began to walk. Philippe moved first, placing his hand upon Angelique's shoulder when, suddenly, she slipped away and moved in the opposite direction.
"Angelique?" Philippe asked, watching her in confusion as she picked up an abandoned teacup upon the mantle. "Angelique, what in Heaven's name are you doing?"
"Tidying the place, obviously," she answered with a shrug. "It's what I always do at home, Philippe. In fact, if I'm not mistaken, I've been asleep for nearly a whole day – I have quite a bit of work ahead of me."
"She's gone mad," Raoul whispered, earning a frown from Christine.
"You're not coming?" the Persian asked, a smile twitching onto his lips as he glanced over at Erik.
"No, I'm not going anywhere, thank you," she answered politely.
"W-Why?"
All heads turned to Erik, bent forward towards Angelique in disbelief as he clutched his hand over his heart, his eyes large and filled with tears, his lips parted and trembling as he waited for an answer. "Angelique…why-?"
"I thought I told you, Erik," she said softly, blush appearing on her cheeks as she repeated her words. "I love you…I fell in love with you when you apologized to me after the first day we met…I never want to leave you, or your home. There's nowhere for me to go, no one to turn to, and it would break my heart to leave."
"Y-Your uncle," Erik stammered, taking a step towards her, testing her further. "The Comte de Changy-!"
"You must be the most stubborn man I know, Erik," she shook her head. "I mean what I say. I love you, Erik. I just…" Her voice quivered, failing for a moment before returning, weak and broken. "…I just never thought you would love me back…because you want Chris-"
"Prove it!" Erik demanded, lunging forward so viciously that it startled everyone. His hands grabbed her shoulders firmly as he begged, "Prove that it's true! Since we met, I've fought so hard, trying to decide what these feelings were, what Christine was to me, what you were…I started to care more about wanting you than her, but I thought that Christine would complete me, and…and then you came and-" His eyes widened in horror as she snatched the mask from his face, everyone gaping at his hideousness, when she leaned forth and did the unspeakable.
She kissed him…
Spark shot through him as he felt her lips press against his, soft and eager, salty from her tears. Shock and delight danced in harmony through his veins while her hands went to his head, running her fingers through his hair, her body pressed to his. He was shaking, so badly that he grabbed onto her tightly, afraid that he would topple over, in essence creating a more intimate kiss. His eyes closed as tears began to flow, her heart beating rapidly against his own. He caressed her cheeks and hair, touching her the whole time, as if to make sure that this was not a dream and he would not be awakening any time soon. Regrettably, she pulled her head away from his, leaving his speechless.
"I love you, Erik," she murmured, pressing her forehead to his.
A sob escaped him as he felt his knees go weak, wrapping his arms around her once more. "…I love you, Angelique," he confessed in a whisper, his heart bursting with joy. He shook his head, remembering all the times he had fought her, abandoned her, all in pursuit of his pupil. "Oh, Angelique, forgive me!" he begged, falling to his knees and hiding his face in her skirts. "Forgive me – Erik is not worthy or your love!"
"Erik," she breathed, lowering herself so that they were eye to eye. Tucking her hand under his chin, she gently forced him to look up at her, a teary smile on her face. "You know I cannot stay mad at you."
A weak smile grew on his lips as he heard these words, embracing her once more, shivering in delight at the feel of her cheek pressed to his neck. They remained that way for moments until he forced himself to pull away, grabbing his mask and placing it over his face before turning to the bewildered group, helping Angelique up to her feet.
"An-…Angelique," Philippe started, shocked that he had seen such a thing. "…you're absolutely serious about…this?"
"Yes, Philippe," she nodded, taking Erik's hand in hers. "I love him, and I'm not leaving. I can't and won't leave Erik…not now, and not ever." The Opera Ghost took her hand up to his lips and pressed a fervent kiss to it, enjoying the blush that formed on her cheeks.
The Comte nodded, his eyes cast downward in defeat. "…very well. As you wish…Miss Archambault." Bowing to them, he exited the room, never once looking back.
"Goodbye Erik, Angelique," Christine whispered, her eyes glistening with bittersweet tears of happiness. "I wish you both well."
"As we do to you," Erik answered, nodding at the Vicomte, who returned the gesture though he was quite perplexed.
The Persian waited until the couple had followed in Philippe's steps before walking towards them, one eyebrow raised in amusement. "…so, it is absolutely true. You're in love with the Ghost?"
"He's not a ghost, he's a man," she smirked, linking her arm with Erik's. "A flawed man, but a good one…the man I love." Erik squeezed her hand at this, the two of them sharing a shy smile.
The Daroga chuckled, shaking his head. "…what a change you've undergone, Erik…truly, the beauty has tamed the beast."
"Bah," Erik scoffed, trying to frown though the corner of his mouth twitched upward in a grin.
"You shall not be rid of me so easily, you realize," the Persian stated. "I shall return to see if you are both still alive and behaving in a few days time."
"Of course," Erik rolled his eyes. "Now get out of Erik's home before he changes his mind and brings out the lasso once more."
Casting a wink at Angelique, the man bowed to them, adjusted his cap, and walked away, shutting the door after him. The two waited, listening to the silence as they faced one another once more, weariness and excitement intermingled in their blood as they gazed into each other's eyes.
"…shall I make us some tea?" she offered at last, earning a chuckle out of him.
"Erik would like that very much, mon cher," he answered, loving the way she shivered and blushed as he spoke those words. "It has been a most interesting evening, to say the least…shall Erik play his violin?"
"Yes, please," she nodded, leaning her head against his shoulder as they walked towards the kitchen. "Something from your 'Don Juan' if possible."
"As you wish, Angelique," he whispered, daring to press his lips to her head. "As you wish…"