His hand was tightly in hers as she rushed him along the winding tunnels back to the boat on the lake. Dried tears stained her cheeks and new ones threatened to join the streaks within her makeup any time now.
"Christine—!" Raoul breathed behind her, coughing and rubbing at his neck still. "Slow down!"
She shook her head, curls flying around her and tickling her face. "I will show you the boat, then I must return and help!" She pulled him in front of her as they halted at the edge of the lake. "Go back, Raoul, don't let them find you."
He gripped at her arms, brows furrowed. "What the hell are you saying?" he muttered angrily. "He's going to kill you, are you mad!?"
She furiously shook her head, no time to explain. "I made my choice, Raoul. Now go, be free, please. The sooner you go, the quicker we can escape as well!" She quickly looked back at the tunnel they had come from, then pushed at Raoul to get him in the boat. "Go, for God's sake, go!"
He faltered. "You chose him?"
Sighing exasperatedly she handed him the paddle. "What wasn't obvious about the kiss?" she snapped, frowning.
He reached for her. "You are leaving me?"
"Raoul, I have no time to explain," she muttered, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it. "You were safe, and I thank you so much for that." She pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "But my heart lies with him, I am sorry. Now please go, I must help him."
He feebly touched at the paddle, all the while staring at her.
Huffing, she turned and ran straight back through the tunnels, behind her hearing the paddle clattering to the stone floor.
His chest rose with every heavy breath he took, golden eyes staring into nothingness as the monkey played its cymbals. She had kissed him, chosen him, and still he had let her go. How could he jail such beauty, keep her from the world, her favoured lover?
Another pathetic sob escaped him and he stifled it by biting into the side of his hand, a flash of pain shooting throughout him. Let it hurt! He had half a mind to reach for a knife and have his mental anguish manifest physically, to punish himself as he so sorely deserved for all his wretched actions. The only good thing he had done tonight was let Christine go with that fop, and even that whole ordeal had been instigated by himself. Loathsome creature of darkness, indeed!
He sensed a presence behind him, a quiet presence snuck up on him that stilled him. It hadn't come from the direction he had expected, but it mattered little now. His instincts shouted at him to move, to run, to hide, but all he did instead was turn to look at the presence, accepting whatever punishment the mob had for him.
Christine.
She nodded and rushed towards him, immediately tugging at his arms. "Let's go," she urged, trying to pull his dead weight up from the ground. "We should be able to leave before they come here." She did a quick glance around his home to ensure they were still alone, the urgency in her motions clear as day.
"What?" he breathed, blinking as he followed her to stand. "I told you to go!" Why the hell had she returned? If the people would find her with him they would think she was involved and may punish her as well!
She snapped back to him and met his eyes still glassy from crying, his cheeks streaked with his tears. Then, she took a breath and reached for the ring he had given her, pointedly showed it to him, and then shoved it on her ring finger.
He stared.
"Are you dumb as well?" She chuckled despite the exasperated tears in her eyes. "Did that kiss only mean something to me?" She reached for his hands and squeezed. "Listen, we can talk later, but we must go, okay? Pull yourself together for another bit."
Dumbfounded, he kept staring at her, glared at the ring on her finger. "But I- of course that kiss meant something to me!" He sounded almost offended at the notion she may not believe so. "Christine, I sent you away because of it," he breathed, desperately grasping at her arms, wanting to be closer now that she was here. "You do not deserve somebody like me—"
"Quite frankly," she interrupted, "I could not care less what anybody thinks I 'deserve'. I choose you and will do so every day. Now let's go, Erik, please."
He seemed to sober at his name, the name reserved only for her. He took a breath, swallowed. He wanted nothing more than to press her close and kiss her until they were both breathless now that he seemingly could, but angry shouting came ever closer, they had no time. Detaching from her, he kicked into gear at last and reached for a suitcase to gather some items.
"What are you—?"
He looked back, even as his hands still reached for some envelopes. "We will need money, I will need other masks." He grabbed at various coloured and shaped masks. "You think I burn through 20,000 francs a month on candles alone?" He clicked the suitcase shut and then hesitated, looking around his lair, his home. He met Christine here, taught her to sing, shared conversations and tea, and now he had to leave it. He wouldn't even be able to bring any of his sentimental clutter he had on display. All he could do was hope it would be untouched and he would be able to return to retrieve them.
Sloshing water echoed towards them and Christine's eyes snapped to where she had come from. "They're at the lake, where can we—"
Her hand was warm within his as he took it without hesitation and guided her towards his bedroom. Within it he put a candle on a small elevated platform and a large painting rolled aside, revealing a tunnel. He looked back at Christine, heart pounding. "This goes to the surface." He had half a heart to stay after all, to push her into the dank abyss and seal it before she could pull him with her—but she had chosen him a second time, and he could not bear rejecting her once more. "Do you have your belongings?"
"I can return for them another time." She nodded and looked into the tunnel. "I must admit I do not't know where we can go." Her eyes turned back to him to meet his bare face. She opened her mouth, hesitated.
He took a mask from the suitcase and glanced at it. It was akin to his skin colour, blended in more with a painted eyebrow and blushed cheeks. He made it a long time ago, for if he ever had to dwell between people, but he had always much preferred the mystery his ivory mask had given him. He glanced at the doorway towards his main quarters, to where his ivory mask was aimlessly on the ground. His heart tightened at the thought of leaving it, but perhaps with it he could abandon being the Phantom.
She touched his arm, warmth seeping through the fabric of his dress shirt. "Are you okay?"
He looked back at her and blinked. What a question to ask at this moment...
Footsteps echoed through his home and he cursed, ushering Christine through the passage and then following, sliding the painting back in front of the tunnel and locking it with a mechanism he had built in. The mask he stashed in a pocket. "That should keep them a while," he muttered, taking her hand again. "Let us go."
She followed him as always, hand tightly in his and ever comforting in its presence. The darkness blinded her and the path was treacherous, but she had never felt safer.
After a while of them walking in surprisingly comfortable silence, his velvet voice rang out. "Why did you return?" He halted his strides and turned to face Christine. "I have murdered, Christine. Least of all my face... I am a monster."
For a moment she turned back to look at where they had come from, happy to see the darkness still behind them. Comforted with knowing they weren't yet being followed, she took a breath and gently held his arms. "My dearest Erik..." She tried to meet his eyes in the dark, but instead settled on his heavy breathing. "I wish I could explain in depth all my feelings, but words would fail me long before I would ever finish." She chuckled softly and held a hand at his taut cheek, sweetly feeling at the rough skin and caressing it. "All I can tell you is that I wish for nothing more than to be with you, spend my life with you. You make my heart soar, fill my mind with music."
He gaped at her, momentarily ceasing breathing until he remembered he did need air. Her hand on his skin was like fire itself burning at him, igniting a flame within him with its very touch. Mindlessly he reached up and grabbed her wrist, feeling the soft skin beneath his fingers. "What— What of the boy? The Vicomte?"
"Erik..." she groaned exasperatedly.
"They won't find this passage, Christine, I just— I need to know," he breathed anxiously, hoping she could hear the desperation in his voice, his need. He idly stroked her wrist, feeling her goosebumps at his touch. "Please."
With another glance behind them and the assurance of still being hidden she stepped closer into Erik's personal space, breathed his very air. "My dear Phantom..." She shifted to take his hand in hers and squeezed the cold skin. "Your rage terrifies me, but I knew you before that vengeful fire consumed you, the you I fell in love with. You have never lost your patience with me, guided me and guarded me when I needed it more than anything." She pressed her lips to his knuckles, lingering at the dry skin and exhaling a warm chuckle. "Raoul was a fleeting crush, as he was in my childhood."
"But the— the engagement..." Erik forced himself to say it, the word foreign and sour on his lips. He barely managed not to snarl.
"Just me trying to escape that vengeful rage of yours. My heart was ever pulled in two this past year, but I see clearly now. I love Raoul, yes, but my love for you surpasses everything." She glanced up to where his eyes would be, could so easily see the gold glimmer of them. "My dear Erik, I beg you to believe me. I want a life of music with you, no matter what it may look like. As long as I have you and our music, nothing else matters."
"I am hardly fit to be—"
"Did I ask?" she interrupted coolly, then sighing once again. "As I said earlier, I care not whether you see yourself as desirable or not. I made my choice and it is long overdue for you to respect that for once!"
He blinked at her, stammered something, and then let out a half-delirious chuckle. "What is this, Christine Daaé..." He reached up to cup her cheek and caress the soft skin. "You defy your angel?" It was a teasing statement asked out of confusion of her defiance, though a fond warmth spread through him all the same.
"Shush." With a soft smile she leaned into his touch. "There is no defying, only love and communication. I am done being the naive girl, Erik. I want a life with you, not some phantasmal being. Give me your flaws and love and I will give you mine."
He faltered. "My rage…"
"It is a flaw, Erik, one we can work on."
At the defiant certainty in her voice he felt more tears prick at his eyes, so grateful and full of love for this wonderful human being before him. She loved and wanted him even now, even after all his despicable acts.
"By all accounts, it makes no sense," he bemused on a guilty whisper, chuckling airily and minutely shaking his head.
"Tell me about it," Christine sighed softly, and then they both laughed—quietly, intimately.
A loud bang from way back in the passage had them jump, and immediately Erik sobered, though a hint of a grin still tugged at his lips. "Come on, my dear. Let us leave this dreaded basement behind."
With practised ease she took his held out hand, revelling at the skin meeting skin. She would never tire of that. Then she looked up at Erik in front of her, barely seeing him but knowing he was there looking right back at her. Always with her.
"Right behind you."