Chapter Seven : Loss Of
Hope
Erik paced
back and forth in his drawing room with long, angry strides. What a fool he'd been! What on earth had possessed him to ever get
involved with Meg? He should've known
that sooner or later she'd see his face!
It never failed! Whether through
accident or on-purpose, they always saw his face and left without a backwards
glance! Curse all humankind for being
so facade-oriented! Why did everyone
see only his accursed face and not the man who wore it?! Why was he doomed for all time to never
learn what it felt like to be loved... truly loved? What had he done that was so bad?
Oh,
stop moping about, the practical, cold part of his mind scoffed. Are you a man or a sniveling brat? What is the matter with you? If the little chit doesn't want you... it's
her loss!
"Sure it is..." he whispered aloud, bitterly
laughing at himself. "And maybe
Carlotta will really turn in to a toad with a wink of my eye."
Forlornly,
he ceased his pacing and wandered to the bench of his pipe organ, sitting down
wearily. With a sigh, his long fingers
sank onto the keys, producing a quiet, mournful melody. Well, for one thing, he wasn't going to make
the same mistake with Meg as he had with Christine; there would be no threats
to make her stay with him. Perhaps he
had matured (a faintly amusing thought at the age of at least fifty!), or merely
learned his lesson after Christine... but he knew that rather than seek out his
own desires, he would seek out Meg's instead.
He stopped
playing abruptly. God, could he do
that? If she decided that she would
rather not ever see him again, could he keep it that way? If she asked for her wings, would he give
them to her? Even at the risk of her
flying away without a backwards glance at him?
Could he let her go without making her feel guilty for leaving him? Even if it meant that he would be utterly destroyed?
He sighed
deeply, he would just have to. He loved
the girl, much as he'd tried to deny it... and with this love came the equal
desire to see her happy, be it within his arms, or another man's. It would kill him to let her go, but he
would go quietly, without any pleading or undignified begging.
@>----,-----'-----------------------
Meg sat up
her bed with a start, her mind still terrified of that face despite the bright
sunlight that streamed into her room.
Dear Lord would she ever be able to sleep without nightmares again? Even in broad daylight, they plagued
her! These past three weeks since
Delacroix's attack had been awful. She
couldn't sleep because of her terrifying nightmares and she dared not go to the
Opera at all. Erik would kill her now
that she'd seen his face, of this she was reasonably certain. And even if he didn't kill her, he was
undoubtedly furious at her for seeing it in the first place.
Still
shivering with fright, Meg rose and slipped into a full-length robe of pale
blue cotton. It had been forever since
she'd even been able to even think clearly, let alone suffer through
rehearsals at the Opera and, luckily, her mother had told the management that
she was ill to excuse her absence.
How
long can that last, though? she
wondered, wandering into the kitchen where her mother sat.
"Feeling
any better, Meg?" Madame Giry asked, sliding a cup of weak herbal tea
towards her.
"Not
really, mother... I'm still having those nightmares." Meg sat down,
holding her head in her hands. "I
don't think I can ever go back to the Opera... if I do, he'll-"
"He'll
what?" Madame Giry demanded.
"Good God, Meg, don't tell me that you're frightened of Erik!"
"Of
course I am! He kills anyone who's seen
his face! You know that!" Meg cried
back.
"Margaret
Anne Giry, you know very well that those tales are nonsense! If Erik wanted to kill you, he could easily
do it here and not wait for you to return.
Or do you really take him for the monster that the rest of the girls
do?" Madame Giry seethed.
"For Heaven's sake, Meg... that man saved your virtue and quite
possibly your life, then carried you here at least two miles in the
freezing rain! Surely, you don't think
he'd do that if he wanted you harmed?"
Meg shook
her head in dismay. "I don't know
what to think anymore, mother... I really don't. I thought I loved Erik, but... that face... how can I bear to
ever look at him again? Knowing what
lurks beneath his mask?"
"Meg,
dear... you loved him before you saw his face.
It is not so terrible to destroy that love, is it? If it is, then... it was never true
love." Madame Giry said
softly. "That man would never harm
you, you know that as well as I do. He
loves you... so much that he chanced discovery to make sure that you were safe
and cared for... so much that the thought of you seeing his face sent him
flying for the door."
"What?"
Meg lifted her head.
"When
I told him that his mask was gone, he surmised that it was the reason for you
fainting. Rather than have you see him
upon awaking, he fled into the night." Madame Giry said.
"Didn't
he say anything?" Meg asked.
"He
did... he said, 'the choice is yours'." Madame Giry repeated Erik's phrase
darkly.
"The
choice is mine? What choice?" Meg
pondered.
"Obviously,
the choice of whether or not to see him again.
You've spent a substantial amount of time with him, Meg... you've both
grown to cherish that time. Now,
suddenly he's faced with the very real prospect of having that ripped
away. And rather than come chasing
after you, he's letting that choice be left entirely up to you, without any
influence from him." Madame Giry explained. "Don't you see what he's sacrificing for you?"
"I
never asked him to! Why should I feel
guiltily for being frightened? I can't
help what I find scary, you know!" Meg shot back, her cheeks flushing with
both anger and embarrassment. The
memory of nearly drowning in Erik's underground lake came unbidden into her
thoughts, as well as the feel of Delacroix's body being lifted from her as if
by an avenging angel.
Madame
Giry sensed her daughter's conflicting emotions and simply sat in silence,
waiting for Meg to sort things out mentally.
With a sigh, Meg leaned over the table again. "I don't know... I still care about Erik, of course...
but... I just can't get over that sight.
I wish I could but every time I close my eyes, I see it... that death's
dead, the eyes that burn like the fires of hell... it scares me so much."
Rising
from her own chair, Madame Giry held her frightened and confused daughter,
gently rocking her and rubbing her back.
"Perhaps you just need a little more time, dear... but don't dally
too long. There has been no sign of
Erik in the Opera at all these past weeks and I fear for him. It's not like him to just disappear like this."
"No
one's heard anything? Do you think he's
all right?" Meg asked with sudden concern.
"He's
a grown man, Meg... I'm sure he can take care of himself." Madame Giry
assured her daughter. I hope, she
added silently.
@>-----,-----'-----------------
Erik
managed to rouse himself from his apathetic state for the first time in weeks,
for the first time since it had become apparent that Meg was not going to come
back to him. The urge to go to her home
and see her, even if it was only through the window, had become a desire like a
cancer, eating away at him with relentless pain. But he refused to give in and break his vow; he would not trouble
the child or risk being seen. He simply
wouldn't, but it was getting more and more difficult.
Tonight,
he thought as he pulled on his cloak and made his way slowly out of the house, tonight,
I'll put an end to it. No more pain, I cannot tolerate any more pain or
longing... tonight, I will find peace.
Up and up he went, passing by the stage, the dressing
rooms, the grand foyer, even the high catwalks. His final destination was the highest point in all of Paris, the
roof of the Opera... from where, he could see everything and at night, it was
particularly stunning; the lights of Paris below and the starlit sky above. A perfect place to be the minutes and hours
before one's death.
@>-----,-----'-------------------
It was
so dark... and cold, so very cold... above her, there were a million pinpoints
of light... diamond-bright stars in a black satin sky. She would have found it breath-taking if it
hadn't been so blasted cold. She
shivered violently, pulling her threadbare shawl about her tighter to ward off
the chill.
Suddenly,
a huge shadow loomed in front of her, it's edges flapping in the wind like the
wings of a cloak. Much like... Erik's
cloak...
At that
point, he turned, affording her a look at his masked face. Meg was shocked by the pain and suffering
she saw; years and years of rejection and yearning. He'd never been touched and never expected to be. All hope for him was gone... and it was
reflected in his painfully beautiful eyes.
How could
she? How could she have forgotten what
those eyes looked like? What stories
they told? Good God, she had
purposefully made them glow with desire on more than one occasion... she had seen them fill with tears when he'd received
Christine's letter... and she'd seen them glow with fury when he'd killed
Delacroix. Those eyes revealed his very
soul and she hadn't seen it!
Tears
began to spill over her eyes at the pain she had caused this gentle, loving
man. This man had never shown her
anything but care and consideration and she had repaid him with abandoning
him. She reached for him and was
startled when he stepped away, avoiding her offered embrace.
"Erik?"
she asked softly, taking a step forward, trying to close the distance between
them. He kept shying away, eventually
coming to the edge of whatever they were standing on. Below them, Meg could see the distant glow of streetlights...
they were on the roof of the Opera.
"Erik,
please... come away from there." Meg tried to keep her voice steady,
despite the trembling of her heart that had nothing to do with the bitter cold.
"I
love you, Meg... but I'll never have you." he spoke finally, his voice so
soft and velvety that she almost thought she'd imagined it.
"That's
not true, Erik-" she began.
"Hush."
he cut her off with a quick, slashing gesture of his hand.
His
brashness hurt her enough, but it was his next sentence that truly made her
heart die.
"It's
time... tonight, I die."
Before Meg
could voice a protest or even react to stop him, Erik hurled himself over the
edge... falling that dizzying height with incredible speed.
"Erik!!!" Meg sat bolt upright in her bed panting
heavily. A dream, dear God, it had only
been a dream. But her dreams had never
been so clear before... was it some sort of warning? Warning or no, it had proved to Meg that she no longer cared
about Erik's deformity. She loved him
and could waste no time in telling him.
A strange premonition had grabbed her; something was terribly wrong.
Without a
thought as to the utter bizarre nature of her actions, Meg quickly dressed in
the dark. Without waking her mother,
Meg slipped out into the streets, tucking her shawl about her tightly. Oh no, it was windy and bitter cold
outside... just as it had been in her dream.
Dear ,sweet, Lord... no, please don't let it be too late!
She took off running, caring not a whit that someone might
see her with her hair loose and flying with the breeze, her little face
streaking with tears of terror. It
can't be too late! It just can't! I won't let it be too late! She finally arrived at the Opera House,
winded and panting for breath, but denying her exhaustion and climbing up the
thousands of stair to the roof. She had
to get up there! Even if it was only to
convince herself that it was merely a dream... that Erik was safe. If she went up and found no one, then she
would go down to Erik's lair and make double sure.
After an
eternity of winding stairwells and dizzying heights above catwalks, Meg made it
to the roof. The door was heavy and Meg
had too use what little remained of her strength to open it enough to slip
through. The darkness of the Opera's
interior has prepared her eyes for the night... but even her dream couldn't
have prepared her for the sight that met her...
A trillion
stars twinkled above like heavenly jewels of white light and a full moon shone
brilliantly on the city. Erik stood at
the very edge of the roof, his cape flapping in the wind like the wings of some
medieval monster; his hands out-stretched and his head thrown back, as if
offering himself to some sacrifice.
Dimly, above the howling wind that lamented this scene, Meg became aware
of a sound that pulled and nearly snapped her tender heart-strings... from the
depths of Erik's throat, indeed his very soul, came the most terrible
sobs. His entire body shook with them,
heart breaking in intensity and somehow beautiful when emitted by Erik's
exquisite voice.
"Erik...
my poor Erik..." Meg found herself whispering, even as tears streamed down
her own face.
Erik shook
his head slightly, as if he'd heard her but had decided that it was merely his
imagination. "No..." he said,
still believing that he was alone.
"It's over now... I cannot go on anymore."
It took
Meg only a second to realize what he intended and another to react. "Erik, no!" she screamed, running
to the dangerous precipice and yanking him from that perilous perch by his
cloak. He fell, completely dumb-founded
that he had been snuck up on, only to find Meg all but throwing herself on top
of him and hugging him with all of her might.
"You
idiot!" she declared even as she pressed her cheek to his chest. "Don't you ever scare me like that
again!"
"Meg? What-?
How-?" was all he could manage in his utter bewilderment.
"Do
you think I'd let you throw yourself off of the roof?" she demanded,
letting him rise to his feet, but not letting him out of her determined hold.
"Why
on earth didn't you?" he muttered darkly, his surprise having ebbed. "I'm tired of being alone."
"Oh,
Erik... you're not alone." she insisted, molding her body to his easily.
With
despair, Erik pushed her away, a vicious snarl escaping his lips. "Don't, Meg... just don't."
"Don't
what?" Meg asked in confusion, her body acutely cold where it had once
touched Erik's.
"Don't
tempt me with what can never be mine.
You know it... and I know it." Erik breathed harshly, turning on
his heel with a swift pivot. "Go
home, Giry... safe to your maman, forget the monster that lurks in the
night."
"Erik! Wait!" she called after him, daring to
follow him down into the darkness of his domain. "I don't understand!
Why are you so angry?"
"I'm
not alone, you say..." his voice rang loud and clear inside her head. "Meg... there has never been one so
alone as I. Please... don't cry... I am
not angry at you, sweet... only myself and this accursed face. You know of my feelings for you, I'm
sure. But you deserve better than
me..." The voice stopped abruptly,
as if breaking off on a sob. "It's
better... for the both of us... if you leave here and never speak of me
again."
"Never!"
Meg's denial was quick and fervent, making Erik's dark shape turn to look back
at her with surprise. Taking advantage
of his temporary stop, Meg ran to him, once again holding him tight.
"Meg...
please!" he whispered hoarsely, his voice betraying his sudden
desire. "I can't take much
more."
She
refused to budge, laying her head on his shoulder, her lips almost kissing his
neck. "Neither can I, Erik."
she said softly.
The feel
of her breath at his neck, the soft allure of her voice, the memory of their
embraces, they all served to render Erik nearly incapable of coherent thought
or speech. As a result, he needed a
minute to comprehend what she had said.
"I very much doubt that we are speaking of the same thing, my
dear." he managed to say, gently disentangling himself from her intimate
grasp.
"Are
we?" she said cryptically, letting him push her away only a few inches, her
hands remaining on his broad shoulders.
"I think not, love."
"Love?"
Erik repeated, only to be cut off by Meg's quick fingers slipping his mask off
and tossing it aside. He shied away
immediately, hiding his face behind his arm and retreating several steps into
the shadows.
"Please! For God's sake, Meg! Don't do this!" he yelled, his voice
echoing in the nearby caverns eerily.
"Erik."
was all she said, as she drew near to him.
The poor man was terrified, she knew... of her reaction, of her running
away from him... but she would do no such thing.
Once she was close enough, she placed a gentle hand on the arm Erik used to hide his face and exerted just enough pressure to lower it to his side. Beneath his fine dress coat and shirt, she could feel him shaking with fright and a pang of sympathy ran through her. He continued shrink against the stone wall, out of escape options. Tears were dripping down his sunken cheeks as he prepared himself for a scream, a faint, or a horrified gasp... he couldn't bear to look up.
Meg could
feel a bit of the color drain from her face as she took in the sight of Erik's
deformity. But now that she was calmer
and he was not glaring about with that awful look of pure hatred, she admitted
to herself that it wasn't as bad as she had originally thought. His skin, though an admittedly sickly color,
was rough, but still pliant and human like any other skin. His eyes refused to focus on her, but she
could still make out that ghostly blue color that had first attracted her to
him. On his face and in his eyes, she
could she all the evidence of cruelty and suffering that this gentle man had
gone through, all the rejection and pain, all of the agony and despair.
Before she
even thought it, Meg leaned towards him and pressed her soft lips against his
in a tender, soul-searching kiss.