Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own Phantom of the Opera. Someday, perhaps, I will, but until then I am making no profit from this. Author's Note: Contrary to the beliefs of a certain phan who shall go unnamed ::looks at Estella:: I really don't want to denigrate this phanphic with a smutty chapter here. I've kept it fairly clean, because I really don't think this is the proper vehicle for smut. That said, here's chapter 15! Much love and many thanks to my reviewers; keep up the good work people! :) *Raoul's POV* I had never noticed it before, but the streets of Paris were a cold and unforgiving place. Still, I fled deeper into the dark side of the city: the place most aristocrats speak of rarely and then only in hushed, mocking tones. The place was frightful even in the light of midday, ragged little waifs running about with their dirty faces, broken women selling themselves soullessly on street corners, shattered windows looking out with terrible consternation to the world that had let them be ruined so insensitively. Somehow, it did not bother me in the least. Somehow, I felt at home in this haven of the condemned. My life was wildly out of control; I knew that plainly, yet I clung to the hope that had drug me from my home. I knew that if I were to ever see Christine again, I would have to do it on my own accord. I doubted strongly that I was a match for her Phantom, but, then again, I always had my gun. It was a gentleman's art, shooting was, or at least so my brother always said. He would take me out into the woods on certain fine summer mornings, and we would hunt small game as he taught me about life, love and everything that fell in between. I felt an eternity removed from my memories, it was as if Raoul de Chagny was dead, and I had simply taken his place in a dreary, restless world. I pulled my coat tightly around me, I suddenly felt chilled even as the sun shone upon me and the buildings blocked the breeze. It took me a long moment to realize that the coldness was radiating from within and not from without. I felt numbed; I had lost my soul, and I had not even realized it was happening to me. I passed by a storefront, and I paused before the window. I did not know the reflection staring back at me. I knew myself as a man who loved Christine enough to die for her happiness. I saw myself suddenly as a man willing to kill for his own . My hair was wild and unkempt, my eyes lifeless and cold. My clothes were still in the best of sorts, but the man within them looked poor in the most tragic of ways. I walked away from the glass, dejected and disillusioned. I found an alleyway that had some lighting, and I slithered into it. I sank down against a dingy brick wall, grasping my head in my hands. I could not, would not, go back. Instead, I would remain in the city of the damned until the streets killed me, or turned me into someone beyond all reason and morality. With resignation, I accepted my fate. *Christine's POV* I got up from the couch and walked over to Erik. My husband, Erik. Oh, that sounded marvelous to me, the word cementing my dreams to my fate. I slipped my arms stealthily around his waist, and he embraced me back with all his strength. I felt so warm, so safe, in that moment that it was impossible for me to belief that there was anything but joy and love in the world. "Mon amour," I whispered softly, laying my head against his chest so that I could hear his heartbeat, "my husband." He softly kissed the top of my head, and in a voice so clouded with emotion I barely recognized it, he whispered, "My angel; my wife." I turned my head upwards, and I found myself, instantaneously caught up in the most passionate kiss I had ever known; it was as if he was desperately trying to show me how strongly he felt in that one, unbelievably powerful gesture. When finally he broke the kiss, he whispered, "We shall leave this place when darkness comes, Christine. Nadir has found us a safe place in the summer home of an old friend of his. Yes, we shall go, and we shall leave all the ghastly business of the past behind us." "Good," I said ardently, taking his face in my hands, and pulling off the mask he had put on for the sake of the priest, "that gives us the whole rest of the day to ourselves." "Indeed," he said with a smile, picking me up like a child in his arms, "we are truly alone at long last." "Oh, but Erik," I sighed happily as he carried me across the threshold of our borrowed room, "don't you understand that neither of us shall ever be alone again?" "I do," he whispered in my ear as he shut the door behind him, "and you will never know how grateful I am to you for making my dreams so wonderfully real." I kissed him softly, letting my actions respond to his words. He pulled me tightly to him as if he would never let me go, which, of course, I knew was more than an illusion on my part. I knew he would never let our love die, and it was in that moment, that indelible moment, that I became truly his, and he became truly mine forever. To be continued. . .(and soon!) |
| Light in the Darkness |