Phantom of the Opera 1. Chapter 1

A Letter of Realisation

Dropping the quill Christine gave a long, deep sigh and was distracted by the ticking of the large grandfather clock behind her. She shifted on the wooden chair to view the clock's face and saw that it was almost fifteen minutes past midnight and that she had been in the same position for over an hour. Yet in her heart she had been in a much more difficult situation for so much longer.

_Love…_

She thought….like Religion….pointless from causing so much pain and holding nothing of what it promises….no joy, no euphoric happiness, and no angel….

Christine had to think this way for she feared that she would go quite insane. She feared once again becoming a quivering mass of guilt, sorrow, and pain, which she had stopped being and blocked out with these thoughts; condemning _Love._ To her it had brought nothing but pain like a pestilence, a curse. But Christine knew that in the end, and every second until the end, each pulse her heart gave would be filled with what she had tried so hard to mentally bury. That was what held her so strongly in this mental position and in this dimly lit room. Christine was trying to start the task that would save her sanity and, as she hoped, her soul. Above other things Christine knew that in doing so she would have to unbury what for so long she had tried to force from her mind and that she would have to look to the past to move forward. Christine had to dig into her past and wade into her own emotions.

Christine picked up the quill with determination and dipped it into the ink well with a force resulting only in ink blots across the parchment. In frustration she threw the quill down again as though it would burn a hole through her hand.

"Where…to begin"

She exhaled and the flame of the half burned candle moved with her breath. Looking at it as though it were a demon, Christine slowly seized the quill in her shaking grasp and putting it to the parchment she closed her eyes willing the words to flow onto the paper….willing she the words to flow to the parchment….Yet instead of words the images came. The Opera, the Corps De Ballet with their swirling skirts of every colour, the music, Joseph Bouquet's prying eyes and then his garrotted corpse with eyes bulging, Raouls embrace, Erik, his mask, the murders, the choice, the lov-

"Christine…" Raoul whispered, putting a hand on Christine's shoulder. He was taken aback at how she jumped under her husbands touch so quickly, until she turned and smiled up at him. Raoul leaned down and kissed her forehead.

Christine's breath caught in her throat as the memories, shattered by his touch, ebbed away in front of her.

"Christine" Raoul repeated. "It is very late love, please, come to bed. You will be exhausted tomorrow if you do not sleep now."

"I will join you very soon Raoul, go change for bed"

Christine smiled once more before turning away from him…_he would only see the open book and assume I have been reading again. . _Raoul lingered a few more seconds before turning to leave her. He thought of stealing another kiss from his wife but decided against it, knowing it would be better to leave her for now until she came to him. He paced in their room, shedding his clothes until he was only in trousers and shirtsleeves. Raoul sighed, running a hand though his hair as he sat on their bed. He knew Christine would not hasten to join him, why would she after all that had happened in the six months of their marriage? It had been more eventful, most likely, than that of a couple celebrating their silver wedding anniversary. Once Raoul had finally sunk into bed, waiting for sleep to claim him, it never came and neither did Christine. Anger started to seethe within him, and he knew this night he would gain very little sleep. He wanted his wife beside him and knew that she would not come.

"I do not blame you."

_When Christine Daee had arrived on the de Chagny estate with her future husband in the hansom cab, he was amazed by Christine's reaction to the size and décor of his home and was glad that his fiancé was in awe of what would become in part hers. Unfortunately, Raoul had been a fool to have thought that his family would welcome her with open arms_.

_His mother, although utterly formal in their meeting, was cold and paid no great attention to her son's incessant chirping about this woman, who was barely a woman, but instead a child who would love her sons doting and run back to the opera when she had a chance. Christine had tried her best, although always shying away at formal gatherings, staying by Raoul's side. She accepted all the introductions to those of the aristocracy, trying to remember all the names and the short bursts of information to go along with each person she met. Yet Christine was never comfortable at gatherings and she would always notice how she was looked at by others. This she had tried to ignore for Raouls sake until the night Raoul had found Christine missing from the ballroom, and discovered her in her room, sobbing at a remark the Comptess had made of her to another guest._

" _I heard her say it and it was not directly said to me…but oh Raoul…it was meant for me to hear! She does not want me to be with you, she wants me out of your life. How can I marry you, when your own mother despises me so? 'Ah…the little dancer girl that has caught Raouls eye...'" Christine mimicked._

_Raoul had comforted her, assuring her that his family would see in time the girl Christine was and that they would love her as much as he did, even if he doubted it. The wedding would go on with or without his mothers blessing.  
_

_It was a smaller ceremony than any de Chagny would have usually held, but the wedding transpired nonetheless. There were rumours that this had come about from the Comptess's disapproval of the marriage, but her feelings could not stop what was to be. Christine was not at all fazed that the ceremony was going to be a small one, as she had not grown up in such lavish surroundings._

_Christine started to mould to her new life as Raoul's wife and Viscomtess, although she was still not fully accustomed to the regime of the aristocracy. She made faux pas regularly and was learning from them on a trial and error basis. The family's scrutinising had settled and they started to accept Christine into the de Chagny family, although there were always small hints reminding her that she was only married into a higher class. But after Raoul announced that he was to be a father, which meant he may have an heir, there seemed to be nothing more to do but to accept Christine, for she was giving him a child...she was giving them all a child. _

_Christine took to pregnancy well. She seemed to glow because she loved how it felt to carry her husband's child and although her pregnancy was still in its early months, Christine still felt the gentle movements within her. The infant, visible through her dresses, it was a sharp but beautiful contrast to her small feminine frame. All of this she adored, but once again the rigmarole of the aristocracy took its toll on her. When Raoul had told her that being seen in public while pregnant was not done, her heart sank to her stomach realising all she would loose, for what would seem such a long time. Christine loved Paris; she loved being around people and her culture, walking in the parks with Raoul and being seen with him in the gardens. Christine had grown accustomed to the many social gatherings Raoul's mother so often arranged, and having Raoul to guide her had made the occasions almost enjoyable._

_After months of deprival of public company, Christine did not know if it was sheer ignorance or stubbornness from being whisked away from the pubic eye for so long because of her pregnancy, she went to her wardrobe. Christine shuffled through all of the dresses Raoul had bought her, wading through a mass of colour and material. Her mind was made up, even if Raoul's words rang in her head from earlier in the day, thwarting her protest of wanting to attend this evening's activity. _

_Christine descended the staircase and walked to the ballroom. She had donned a red lace gown, gold trimmed with a heavy bustle and her coffee coloured curls cascaded around her shoulders and chest. She knew she looked breathtaking. The guests dancing in the ballroom noticed the woman standing at the entrance, some guests were rendered speechless, while others were captivated by torrents of whispers to one another. Taking no notice of the beautiful dress Christine wore, but of what was beneath it…_

_Raoul had noticed a change in the atmosphere in the room and he looked up to see Christine. Her appearance waved over his senses and for an instant he completely forgot why the stares were aimed at his wife. An urge possessed him to take her by the hand and tell all there that the beautiful angel of a woman who had merely blessed them all with her presence was his, but he caught his mother boring holes through him with her eyes. Raoul cringed under his mothers glare and he was sure he had reddened after he heard his sisters snort and tut disapprovingly at the sight of Christine bearing her condition, for all to see. He swiftly took through the crowd to his wife and apologetically took her by the hand while leading her from the ball room._

_Christine's gaze fell to the floor, knowing that she would be scolded by her husband for her disobedience and sheer stubbornness. _

"_Christin-"_

"_I am your wife Raoul! We are married! This is not a bastard child , yet you stow me away from life as I grow, as our child grows within me! I am sick of this rigmarole…this…this ridiculous farcical way you and those around you act and the way they live!"_

"_'Christine now you are being ridiculous! You are acting like a child trying to cause a scene! Now come up stairs and change, I think I have seen enough dramatics from you for tonight. You are no longer a child Christine and this is not the opera. This home is where you are now, you are a de Chagny we have respect. We earned it and must keep it!" _

_Raoul placed his arm around his wife's waist and led her up the stairs. The whispers in the ball room had ceased after a few icy glances from Raoul's mother and dancing had soon commenced. The events only moments before were forgotten by most, until a sound was heard over the small orchestra band, a sound like a wounded animal and then a shrill "Christine!" from the Viscomte._

Raouls eyes stung as he remembered that night, it was too much to bear he would not think of what happened he would _NOT! _Raoul sobbed dryly alone closing his eyes tightly to stop the tears from falling.

_When the news came that Christine had lost the child when she had fallen down the marble staircase Christine was devastated and instead of being lavished with sympathy and affection from the family, they did not come near. _

"_I do not want to interfere in such a sensitive issue perhaps she will feel better without people constantly asking it is only a reminder of what happened, I only wish to spare her the pain of reliving the ordeal." The Comptess had retorted when confronted by her son._

_The explanation from Raouls mother had sufficed enough, he found her explanation acceptable although to him it still felt wrong. He spent most of his time with Christine he wept while she remained numb he waited for the realisation to sink itself into Christine, but it never came instead she became distant from him wishing her own company. Raoul saw this as his wife's way of dealing with her loss and dared not push her he__out of what he saw as her constant period of mourning had heard too many stories of woman who threw themselves to their death after the loss of an infant. He used to hear her singing to the infant when she thought she was alone, soft, haunting melodies he had never heard before but he had seen from afar her spread her hands across her stomach and seem to sing her unborn child to sleep. _

_So he was forced to let her deal with things in her way as he did in his and he felt empty and so, so unbearably guilty…_

_Raoul had been walking to the drawing room when he heard the all to familiar whispers of his sisters from within the room with their mother he stopped and decided to listen before entering although he didn't know why he chose to do so. And what he heard from within the room caused all anger all guilt all emotion he had felt over the past six months explode from his person._

"_Mother you cannot seriously think that it was not an accident?" Émile asked the Comptess, her voice held disbelief but a sly tone of excitement was evident. _

"_Probably a trick she learnt from her days dancing at the opera." The Comptess stated simply. _

_Joceline looked up at her mother, she could see the Comptess was enjoying this conversation because it slated her new sister. She felt she should say something in defence of Christine but before she could even think what Raoul burst through the doors of the drawing room, she only had to see the look on her brothers face to know he had heard the conversation and she mentally prepared herself for the onslaught that would come. Raoul charged towards his mother, inside his stomach was in knots with the pain at how his family had spoken of Christine's loss but the anger washed over him like a red mist. _

"_You are nothing, but a sad old woman who has passed her prime taking pleasure in undermining and harming those around you. I should have damn well eloped and I would have in a heartbeat had I known this was to be what I would be brining my wife into, a nest of vipers! She is a De Chagney now, you reject your own kind? You cut off your nose to spite your face mother and I assure you the look does not become you. Christine has been to hell and back with no one, you treat her like a leper. Now hear me and take heed for this is my first and final warning, stop this ill treatment of my wife or I will take every franc father left me and leave here with Christine and that shall be the last you see or hear of me. The death of father makes you grow old and bitter, remember it is he who is dead, not you!"_

_The Comptess had remained silent shock reeling through her body as the words of her son sank in knowing he had heard, her pride had been mortally wounded and she knew it. Although knowing she would have to obey her sons wishes she could not help but bite back to regain some of her shredded pride._

"_Very well, but Raoul if it was not her fault, what did happen that night?" Raoul did not turn to listen but he had stopped and after her final words he turned to give her a last burning look and marched away throwing the doors shut. Émile jumped as the door crashed shut and a smile played on the Comptess's lips knowing she had touched a nerve._

Raoul had sobbed till he was exhausted he had almost made himself sick in doing so and had fallen asleep that way, when he awoke Christine did not lie beside him. He knew she would not have been there but she would be still in the library and that she would not have moved from there, and that she would most likely not have slept at all. He longed for her to be as she were for everything to be as it were but he knew that was not possible so much had changed she had changed so much everything had changed so much.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Erik gazed at the broken and splintered chair leg he held in his hand. He ran his fingers over the beautiful carvings running over its form and grimaced when they hit the sharp contrast of the, split wood. Tossing the wood away, Erik stood in the corner, observing the destruction that had rained down on what was once his home. He laughed inwardly, thinking now about how he was in more danger than he had first thought from the mob. More danger than he could have known. Walking alongside the walls of the room it was as if he were tracing it with his person. Erik had returned only to see if there was anything worth salvaging although he did not know what, he had everything he needed, but followed the urge to return here. Closure perhaps.

Walking towards the room that had once been hers, he stopped suddenly at a sound…and he knew it was not rats. Erik disappeared back into the corner, into the shadows where he had been moulding, into the darkness.

_A ballet brat, perhaps._

Nothing was left here that would interest an angry mob now. There was nothing to take, nothing to destroy, so the prying eyes of a curious ballet brat was an obvious guess.

Erik watched the soft glow of candle light come across the lake. As the boat approached, he was puzzled as to why it was still in one piece, but realised it was not here when the mob arrived. Raoul and Christine had taken the little craft when they left, so it had most likely been on the opposite shore since. Erik gritted his teeth at the thought of the boy, yet the memory was fleeting as he again concentrated on seeing who had come to his former home. The small boat halted at the bank of the lake and he heard a sharp intake of breath as his guest met with the sight of destruction. He could see only the form of a figure hooded in a dark cloak, until the figure sat the lantern on the ground and turned to walk the banks of the lake. It was then the hood of the cloak fell to her shoulders, and Erik saw who had come.

_An ex Ballet brat then, close enough. _

A smile almost touched the corners of his mouth at the irony of it all. He felt he must have had a strange epiphany, because now the celestial spirit filled him and Erik had no doubt that there was a God, since He seemed to have no greater pleasure than to torture him. It _almost_ made him feel like singing a holy requiem. He watched as she unfastened her cloak and after a brief search, took something from the cloak. Erik could see it was paper, a letter. She let the cloak fall behind her and then stepped forward to the very edge of the lake. Watching the rise and fall of her chest quicken, he did not know if it was the cold or fear….or something else. He noticed as the light from the lantern shone around her, illuminating her body. She appeared softer somehow, and it was definitely Christine, but she seemed different. Lowering and raising his head to gaze at her again, Erik realised how she was a woman now, and not the adolescent he had taught and loved.

She stepped further forward to the very edge of the bank and took the letter in her hand. Christine looked at it and the held it close to her chest. She whispered something incoherent to Erik's hearing due to his position. But he was close enough to see tears rolling down her cheeks as she tossed the letter into the lake. Her heavy breathing began to calm and she turned, while pulling on her cloak, to enter the boat again. Erik watched half amazed and half dumbstruck at what had just happened as she and the glowing light from the lamp faded away. He snapped back to reality when he remembered that she had thrown a letter into the lake and he knew that it would not be too deep for him to see where it had landed. Erik rose again and walked to the water. He saw the letter through the mist and it was still sinking. Without realisation or self control, he waded into the lake toward the object, grasping it just before it sank out of sight. It was only when Erik was out of the water and looking at the letter in his hand that he noticed how he had abandoned all he had gained in the past months. He had waded into the water fully clothed for what she had left behind and he cursed himself for it.

Erik stared in disbelief at the letter. His mind had been made up the moment he saw it. Against his better judgement, he knew he would read it and after allowing it to dry he opened the envelope. Relieved that the ink had not run too terribly, he began to read.

_Dearest Erik,_

_In writing you this letter I know your eyes will never glance upon it, but I assure you that makes writing it no less difficult._

_I have not forgotten about you. Since the night of Don Juan, so much was left undone…unsaid…I know it is now too late for either of us to say anything that may make things better for the both of us. Yet what was done was done, and it cannot be ignored or forgotten. I left you with nothing but the ring. Please, please realise how much the ring means, how much it holds. It was the only thing left of myself to give you, and in that, a part of me will belong to you forever._

_You amazed me…but you terrified me at the same time. Erik, your black moods, your blind rage…you were mad, and I was afraid, so very afraid. I saw your face, yes, but I also saw your soul and like every part of you, it is dark, twisted, beautiful, and that is you. _

_But you left me with this burden of unknowing guilt which keeps me from feeling human at the best of times. Your hold over me still weighs strong and now I cry, not knowing whether to beg for you to release me from it. You asked me to make a choice, you asked me! You made me choose_! _Were I to refuse a man gone insane. I am punished still. I chose you and you refused me. Now I am trying to justify my childish ways by being more childish and blaming you. I am not a woman at all, look now I pity myself. If I ask to know if you hated me for leaving with Raoul, I will in truth only be asking myself. _

_I hoped to write to justify my actions, and now only see and realise I do not know myself. I see now I am trying to justify my own decisions. So much has changed. I see you now for what you are, we are both broken, and I love you still. A madman, musician, murderer and……a man. _

_I remain yours Christine._

Erik gazed at the parchment with bemusement wishing the ink had simply ran. _What in the hell. _He thought he did not understand the half of it to him she was speaking like a woman gone mad. Then the feeling of bemusement faded and in its place washed over a seething anger., and questioning.

_My name…how did she know my name? _He questioned himself spinning on heel away from the lake raising his hand to his head spreading his fingers through his hair in disbelief, he felt the sweat that had formed there since reading the letter the chills from the lake long forgotten.

His movements stopped and he slowly turned to face the lake once more stepping towards it he tore the letter into as many pieces as it would become. This started slowly until the emotion swept over him and it became a frantic desperate frenzy destroying the letter and letting the paper silently fall all around him into the lake from whence it came.

_How dar…how could she even possibly come to even think she knew me enough to have the complete blind ignorance to think, to tell me how could she knows or knew me at all she knows nothing. This is a mess a mess I simply do not understand, this was not meant for me to see yet it was intended for me I saw it I read it and understand absolutely nothing. _Erik stopped from his moment of emotional upheaval realisation slowly seeping through his veins.

_I need to know, and she is still here and I **will **find out, Madame De Chagny what the meaning of this is! _ Erik turned for the boat realising it was not there and thought of what was the quickest way to get to Christine.

_I can cut her off before she reaches the mirror. _At that Erik turned and melted into the shadows to find her and the answers.

As he quickly stalked through the passage ways thoughts questions and anger flew through his mind.

_Why?_

_Why now?_

_What of your life surely, surely nothing tragic could have befallen your beloved Roaul. _Erik bitterly laughed inwardly.

_How did you know my name or think you had the right to address me by it?_

_And what? What is it that you want from me I have nothing for you you already took my soul or what was left of it I have nothing you would want and certainly nothing that I would want to give to you. _Erik wanted to take her by the hair and drag her down once more for what she was attempting to bring on him again, he wanted to hurt her as she had hurt him. Erik could hear her footsteps as his pace quickened to meet hers he turned up the passage leading straight to her and stopped dead as he saw once more from behind the mirror, what was once her dressing room door click shut taking her and all of the light that open door held with it.


End file.

Phantom of the Opera, Drama, Romance