Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom of the Opera. . .*sob*. Author's Note: I am beginning to realize that this is most likely going to be a fairly long phanphic. Anyway, this is one of those midnight inspiration chapters (my muse is a night owl, I think), so there might be time for one more chapter tomorrow before my 'big trip' to college. Thanks to my reviewers, and I hope you all enjoy this, and be sure to let me know if you do (or if you don't, for that matter). Feedback: Feedback is addictive. If there were a twelve-step group for review junkies, I would join it. Sadly, there isn't, so you'll just have to review! :) To Midasgirl ~ I think you're right about the 'okay' thing. I'm going to start using the French version, 'D'accord' where needed. I think it's more palpable in this context. Thanks! *Raoul's POV* Her house loomed before me like the promise of Heaven; blissfully sweet and completely fulfilling. Walking towards it, I felt transcendent; like a general about to claim the spoils of war. War, indeed. It had been a war, a tumultuous conflict for the greatest prize of all. . . "Christine. . ." I whispered to myself, smiling. Her name spread through me like a panacea to my weary soul; it effaced the memories of the Phantom, the pain he had caused us, the trouble he had caused me, the blood he had left on my hands. When I spoke her name, I realized it had all been a small price to pay for Christine and her freedom from that fiend. Yes, she was free. Free to follow her heart - to me. She had never loved the monster. It wasn't possible, she could never love him over me. No, she took pity on him, and he had used her. He was like a virus; he had infected her and poisoned her as he possessed her. I had cured her, and now she was mine. Mine. Forever and always mine. I reached the steps to her door, and ascended them rapidly. I knocked loudly, urgently. No reply came. I stood there for a moment, shunned at the gates of paradise. Surely, I thought, surely she was simply out. Shopping perhaps, maybe taking a walk. Not wanting to face the other possibility, I opened the door, and found her house empty, devoid of life and her grace. I closed the door behind me, and sank to the floor. "Christine?" I called, "Christine!" No reply came except silence, silence that mocked me as my eyes closed against reality. Damned gloating silence. I knew, I could feel it, she was with him. It was always him. . . Something inside me gave way as I sat in the heart of a broken dream. In that moment, in that terrible moment, Little Lotte and the boy I had been so long ago disappeared; my past and present became irrelevant, my hopes and aspirations came crashing down. Only one thing still mattered. . . She would be mine. No matter what it took, no matter who I had to destroy, she would be mine. I stood up, and left her house; closing the door on my life and happiness, and turning my focus exclusively to the hunt. *Erik's POV* My sensibilities returned to me slowly as I awakened; not that I really wanted to. In that blissful state between dreams and reality, I lay entranced by some sweet dream I had had. Christine had come back to me, and. . . "Christine," I whispered, feeling her curled up against me. She shifted, laying her head on my chest, and I opened my eyes. She smiled at me, and softly said, "Good morning." "Good morning, my angel" I said, kissing the top of her head. Suddenly, she propped herself up on her elbows and looked at me intently. After a long moment, she said, "Do you trust me, Erik?" I looked at her; shocked. After everything she and I had been through, she still doubted me and it perplexed me. "Of course I do, you know that," I said gently. She sighed, and quietly placed her hand on my mask. I could feel her touch through it, and it sent chills down my spine. It all made sense. . .the mask was the last wall between us, the last remnant of my long isolation from humanity. I hadn't even considered it; it was second nature to me. Besides, the last time she has seen me unmasked, the results had been less then pleasant. But, times change. . . People change. "If you truly trust me," she said, sounding surprisingly self- confident, "you wouldn't hide from me." I couldn't think of what to do or what to say. My mask was the one thing that had never spurned me, it had been with me - a part of me - since before my memories began, since before I realized why I needed it. It was the only consideration my Mother had ever given me; the only consideration anyone had ever given me. Until now. . .until her. I looked at her, and she gave me a look that beckoned to me, called to me through years of pain and exile. She took the first of the laces, and glanced at me, as if asking permission. I closed my eyes, and hoarsely, I said, "Do it." She lightly pulled at the first lace, and it came loose in her hand. One lace, many doubts. Would she run from me again? She moved to the second lace, it too came undone. Would her love turn to revulsion? I felt the third lace, the final lace, give way and I felt a lifetime of rejection come crashing down on me. Would she leave me once more to die in her absence? Could she. . . My eyes still closed, I felt her slowly remove the mask, and lay it by my side. She didn't move, she didn't run. Perhaps, she was too terrified to run, I thought morbidly. Adrift in that silent eternity, I took a deep breath. Then, I felt her hand brush against my cheek. . .my deformed cheek. I felt her soft breath against my ear, I heard her whisper, "Oh, Erik. . ." I opened my eyes, relieved and liberated, her face pressed against mine. She turned to me, her lips coming to rest against the twisted maze of scars I had tried so hard to protect her from. She pressed a kiss against my face, and I felt tears forming in my eyes. For so long I had dreamed of this moment. . . "I love you, Erik," she said, turning my head so that I faced her, "I love you, so much." I felt numbed, inundated with raw emotion. Somehow, I managed to say, "You mean. . ." "I mean," she said picking up the mask and throwing it across the room, "that you won't be needing that terrible thing any longer." Overwhelmed, I found myself in complete awe of her. All the faith I had in her, her voice, her spirit; it was all vindicated. I took her face in my hands, and kissed her softly, "You'll never know how much I love you," I whispered against her lips. "I know," she said, running her fingers through my hair, "but, Erik, you have to understand that that feeling is completely mutual." I smiled broadly, finally feeling complete, as she kissed me once more. . . To be continued. . . |
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