Chapt 13

Christine stood before the window, staring out at the grasslands beyond the grounds of the mansion facing west. The sun was setting, a beautiful orange fire that lit the gardens below. A breeze flew over the grasses making them change shades of gentle amber in waves. The beauty did not lift her heavy heart. She did not go to tea that day, making the excuse that she was tired from today's excursion and needed some rest. Raoul seemed a little distant after his foray into the square, when he had tried to catch the man she thought was the Phantom.

The De Chaney clan treated had her well, and the staff acted as if she was already their countess. They were extremely accepting when Raoul brought her to live with them, despite her tear stained face and half soaked wedding gown beneath a blanket. No questions asked. All they needed to know was she was Raoul's choice, his fiancée. Her room was fit for a princess; she was given lovely clothes to wear and a maid to attend to her. Patience and generosity was abundant here, and they respected her silence over the first week with matched silence. She did overhear Raoul talking with them softly in the living room, telling the tale of their misadventures when he thought she was not around. There was an abundance of "poor, poor dear", "that must have been awful", and her favorite "what a terrible man."

They knew nothing about the man they called terrible, nothing, she had thought, feeling defensive. I am not so innocent either.

She had eventually grown closer to the DeChaney's, joining in their delightful conversations about what she felt was minimally interesting. Acting appropriate was important; smiling at the right times, laughing at the proper things and saying the correct responses on cue. Everything seemed plain and contrived.

But there was excitement, danger and mystery in the opera house. She actually missed it.

The urge to sing was not in her since leaving the opera house, save a few half hearted scales. Practice would have to start in earnest soon if she wanted to maintain the instrument the Phantom so painstakingly built within her.

Oh, so that is what is on my mind. No, Christine, do not think about him. She warned herself.

Her attempts to forget the episode in the lair had been largely unsuccessful. She wanted desperately to strike it from her brain, because it confused her immensely. It muddled up the perfect little world she was trying to build for her and Raoul. How could she feel betrayal, hatred, distain in one moment, then a host of completely different feelings the next?

Being so young and naïve, she did not understand how fine a line there was between love and hate, until she experienced it herself. She closed her eyes tight and covered her face, allowing herself to remember, letting herself picture the maniacal man who screamed at her in their trip back down to the lair, hoping that the awful memory would purge him from her consciousness.

He was so angry. The coldness and hatred poured out of the Phantom, as he dragged her down to the lair. She remembered how she saw a sick sense of satisfaction in his face as he put the noose around Raoul's neck.

It was a diabolically good plan. Of course she was left with no other choice. She would go with the Phantom, to save Raoul's life. She had mouthed "I love you" to Raoul, her way of saying goodbye. The Phantom had won everything; he was undeniably in control for that minute. In the end, he could not do it, however.

She remembered walking up to her fallen angel, the lunatic in the water, having made her decision. Just as he demanded, she would go with him, be with him. Life with that scarred face, imprisoned in that lonely place must have been unbearable. She drew upon her pity for him, the lust for her Angel of music, and her feelings of compassion for his tortured soul until her anger and hatred decreased. After all, he was the man who lit her desires on fire with his music and words.

Living a life in fear and hate was not an option for her. She would rather die. Instead, she promised herself she would fill the Phantom's world with love, if she could. Their passion would turn into flame together. She walked up to him, a changed woman in total surrender, sliding on the ring

I will give you a love like you have never known, Christine remembered thinking, just before she kissed him.

As she came closer to him, his tone and features changed. His eyes revealed the desperate adoration she had seen minutes before up on the bridge, during their performance of Don Juan Triumphant. Before she could loose her resolve, she quickly leaned into him and kissed him. His lips and mouth were cold, his skin damp. They warmed up instantly with her touch. The kiss was so intense that she had to back away for a second. She could not believe it; all she knew was how right it felt.

His eyes were then incredulous deep pools of pale green filling with tears, after their first kiss. Even the scarred side of his face softened. She did not see in his face the happiness, the satisfaction that she expected. Her arms wrapped around him in a lovers embrace, and she kissed him again, deeper now, their mouths moving instinctively together. She felt the passion awakening like a wave within her, and she sent those feelings all his way. She touched his face lovingly, in full acceptance of her fate.

Can't he feel it? Can't he see it? He will never be alone ever again...

She still did not believe what happened next. When she pulled away from him to look at him again he appeared devastated. An immense sadness poured out of his defiant, strong frame which was now bent over as if in pain. He sobbed deeply as he stumbled away from her. She did not know what to do next.

He told Raoul to take her away, commanded that she forget about him and all that happened between them.

How am I going to forget him? Obviously, I can't. He told me to go. I showed him love and he freed me. I guess he really did love me.

As she thought more about it in the weeks to come she understood why. Even in his rage, the Phantom knew she was only staying with him to save Raoul's life. He wanted her love, not just her obedience. She would have stayed with him as a hostage. His deep love for her destroyed his own plan.

Somewhere in his desperate mind, she believed, he could not bear to be subject to her forced affection. His feelings for her were too genuine to subject her to a lifetime of suffering the same dark, dismal fate, the fate of a monster, an outcast, a murderer. With all the love in his shattering heart, he had let her go. She silently thanked him for it then and many times since. Under those set of circumstances, he was right. She would not have been happy staying with him. If only things could have been different.

She still felt immense sorrow and regret, leaving him there in the cold, lonely lair, minutes after she promised to show him that he was not alone. Despite everything that happened, she actually felt guilty for abandoning him. She reached up and touched her lips, longing for that intense passion once again.

"Christine? May I come in?" Raoul beckoned, in a soft voice from outside her door.

"Yes, yes, one minute." She mopped up the tears she had let form below her eyes and put on her best face. Sweet, charming, handsome Raoul. Little did he know that his Little Lottie was thinking of another man, one not as handsome, or charming, or sweet. She needed to talk to Raoul. She opened the door and greeted him with a smile.

In an instant, Raoul saw right through her false smile. Raoul had spent a lot of time watching his quiet, brooding Christine; constantly and painfully silent. It gave him the time to learn how she felt by looking at her expressions, her body language. He touched her face near her eye, the moisture betraying her.

"What's the matter, darling?" He said as she backed away and walked towards the window, looking lost and forlorn. He followed her for a few steps, then paused, waiting for her to speak. She would talk when she wanted to.

What is troubling you tonight, precious one. You are not yourself. He thought.

She had been though so much in her young life; the death of her parents, living in the opera house with a stern ballet mistress as her foster mother, being stalked by a phantom. He handled her with care and respect at all times.

Raoul was still mad at Madame Giry, because, in his eyes, she had betrayed Christine. She had allowed, actually encouraged, that madman manipulate and mesmerize her. Even with the beautiful gift he gave her, her voice, he felt that it came at too steep a price. Christine's freedom. The Phantom wanted to posses her.

No, that madman would not have harmed her physically, but the mental scars he has inflicted are plain enough to see.

"Raoul, when we promised ourselves to each other, we promised that we would always, always be honest." She looked down at her wringing hands. Raoul felt a lump form in his throat.

Did she know of my half truth today? But how? He thought.

"Well, I must be honest with you. I have been thinking about that night, that night in the basement of the opera house. I was thinking about him," Christine continued.

Raoul sighed briefly but he knew he was not off the hook yet. He had to tell her about the Phantom's death, and soon. He walked up behind her and stroked her shoulders. He took her actions as being worried for her safety.

Little does she know, she has nothing to worry about.

"After today's events, I am not surprised. Do not worry, darling, you are safe here. He cannot haunt you anymore." Raoul choked on the words that he needed to tell her.

All I need say is 'because he is dead'. She will understand then, she is not in any danger anymore. Why am I so hesitant to tell her?

"No, Raoul, that is not it. I am not scared of him coming to abduct me or the like. He will not come for me here or anywhere. He gave me up, for my own good. I know it hurt him terribly to do it," she said, holding his hand on her shoulder.

"Then, what is it?" Raoul asked.

"Sit down, please." Christine walked away from him. Raoul backed up and sat on the edge of her bed, hands clasped in front of him, listening intently.

"That night, I felt, strange, strong, probably misplaced feelings for the man. Feelings I just don't understand. I don't even know how to talk about it with you."

"Don't be afraid, Christine. Just tell me what is on your mind. I welcome your honesty." He was ready to hear whatever she would say, even if he would not like it.

"His voice, his music, they had filled my head for so long. His voice stirred me deeply." She looked down and played with her nails.

Yes, I know. I saw that during the Don Juan performance, Raoul thought with a pang of jealousy.

"It was filled with such feeling. But then I hated him for what he did to the opera house, for what he was planning to do to you." She started to cry with frustration.

"How could he be so cold and cruel? How could someone capable of such beauty be capable of such evil? The murder, the destruction? I just don't understand it! And after all that, after all he put us through, how can there still be a part of me that wonders how he is. Raoul, he was my companion and my teacher long before he became the Phantom to me, my father's ghost and my jailer all rolled up into one man. But the last time I saw him, he was not a terrifying killer. The last time I saw him all I saw was a lonely, devastated, lost soul." She regained her composure, but still could not say what she was thinking next.

And he has successfully stolen a piece of my heart.

"Yes, I remember. I remember his hate, Christine. He hated everyone but you, yet he still was willing to do things to hurt you and me. Yes, he hated people. Why wouldn't he, after society was so cruel to him… all the terrible things that were done to him."

She spun around to face him, her lovely brows knitted. "What do you mean?"

"Don't you know? His time with the gypsies, his travels around the world, how he helped to build the opera house. Didn't Madame Giry ever tell you?" He said, incredulous. She shook her head no and sat down next to him.

"Tell me, I need to know." She said, pleading.

He turned to her and related Madame Giry's tale, sparing no details. Christine sat listening, wide eyed, her pity and compassion for her Angel growing.

"Oh that poor man! How lonely he must have been. What rage he must have felt." she said, tears coming to her eyes. "Now I understand him better."

Oh, why didn't he just trust me enough to open up to me.

"His horrible past is not an excuse for his horrible deeds." Said Raoul, not wanting to wallow too deeply in pity for the man who tried to kill him not once, not twice…

"No, it doesn't justify it Raoul. It just explains it," she said, strangely distant, staring out the window. Raoul looked down.

Now is as good a time as any.

"Christine, now it is I who must be honest with you." He reached out for her hand. She looked at him, wondering what was troubling him so.

"Today, at the square, the man I found, he was not the Phantom, but he was wearing the Phantom's cloak. You were right. The man said that he had taken the cloak, stolen the cloak off the body of a dead freak, as he put it. He had found his dead body in a ditch by the side of a road. I can only assume he meant…"

"Please, say no more." She said, cutting Raoul off, reeling from the shock of hearing that the Phantom, her angel was now dead. Somehow, she managed to speak clearly and calmly, temporarily quieting the volcano of sadness rumbling inside her.

"Thank you for telling me everything, Raoul. We must send word to Madame Giry. she would probably be the only other person who would care that he is…" her voice cracked. "Please leave me alone now. I need to be by myself tonight." She looked out the window, barely able to hold herself together. She desperately wanted Raoul to go, she wanted to mourn for her dead angel by herself. Raoul hesitated.

"But, Christine…" he started. She swung around, angry now.

"Raoul, I have the rest of my life to spend with you. If you truly love me, you will give me this night. I owe him that much," she said, standing strong.

"You owe him nothing." he countered. She shot him a glare through misty eyes, welling up with tears.

"Raoul, would you deny a dead man some love? Would you deny me the chance to mourn him? He is no longer any concern to you."

Raoul nodded and left the room. The door closed and the flood began. A part of him ached to hold her as her sobbing began. He stayed outside, knowing she would find not find any comfort in his presence tonight.

Christine fell to the floor on her knees, shaking and sobbing "Oh God, oh God, no! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" She prayed that somehow, the Phantom could sense her pain, the pain of knowing he was gone.

Later that night, her cries finally slowed down enough for Christine to breathe. She had fallen down on the floor of her room and had not moved an inch. Standing up and wiping away the tears, she walked over to her wardrobe. Ceremoniously, she changed into a dark dress and placed a lacy black scarf over her head. Sitting in front of her mirror, the woman she saw looked the part, like a widow.

The times she and the Phantom had actually spent together were so few, precious like gold, but intense like the heat of the sun. He had been her betrothed, if only for a short while. She had worn his ring. She felt that it would be right to mourn him as a lover would. A little bit of kindness given as tribute to her Angel of Music. A private funeral procession.

She opened her door slowly. It was late, everyone in the manor house was either asleep or holed up in their rooms. Slowly, she walked down the stairs and tiptoed out to the rose garden, her black slippers allowing the cold dampness to chill her feet. She walked among the red roses, picking a particularly beautiful bud. She tied a black ribbon around it, just as he had done in the past, barely able to hold back tears. Holding the rose close to her heart, she walked around the garden to where the statue of an angel stood.

Before the angel, she kneeled down, the tears starting to run again. She started to pray softly for him, begging God to have mercy on his tortured soul, to forgive him for his misdeeds. The heartfelt tears ran from her, unfettered. She cried for his pain, his loneliness, guilty for never soothing him. She cried for the man who died as he had always been: alone

I was the only light in his darkness, and I betrayed him too.

Her raven locks became wet with her tears, her body shaking with her silent sobs. Once she could control her breathing, she softly sang a song, a lullaby, for all the lullabies he never heard as a child.

Finally, she walked back to her room, exhausted, her vision cloudy from the tears. She changed into a dark nightgown and held the rose she had picked in her hand. Kissing the fragrant bud, she then placed it down on a pillow on her bed. She crawled into bed, curling her body around the pillow with the rose.

"Goodbye, my angel." she said softly, as sleep quieted her cries. Her impassioned cries echoed out the window, headed westward on a zephyr, to a quiet manor house in Capellen.

In a quiet bedroom in Capellen manor, Erik tossed and turned in his sleep. Hazy in his dream state, he felt aware of a presence and thought he smelled the scent of a woman. He felt the sensation of an icy cold kiss on his cheek and a faint heaviness against his arm. He smiled as he imagined the slight tickle of soft hair moving against his skin, warming his shoulder. He felt the distinct, ghostly sensation of a body next to him.

Oh, no, not again. Why can't my visions, my demons let me sleep? At least, this time my dream specter's sensations are pleasant, not just some masked man laughing at me. This time, it feels so real…

He turned his head to the right and opened his eyes lazily only to blink them repeatedly. He could not believe what he was seeing….