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Portrait of the Soul	By : sirenofsaturn Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Het Views: 2723 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 23
- 24
- 25
Happy Holidays to all! I just hope your holiday is going better than mine has so far. So due to this evenings events I turn to writing for release. This chapter in particular is a nice one to let the stress flow out into. Thank you very much for reviewing, we have successfully passed 180. Thank you all for your continuous support. I own nothing except any original characters and this fiction based plot. Please do not sue or steal.
Chapter twenty-four
“…Was Christine your mother’s name?”
Erik suddenly could not even begin to make since of anything in the world. Mother? What about mother? She was miserable and unhappy from the day he was born, until the day she died. Christine? What of Christine? She was most likely living in an expensive mansion with her fop and many fop like children. What did this have to do with him right now?
All Erik seemed to care for right now was to know which arm began to tingle before a heart attack. ‘Please don’t be the left.’ Erik begged. His left limb was tingling! Not again, he didn’t want to die now. Not without giving Mia an explanation first!
Maybe he did want to die. What would Mia think after he explained what had transpired merely a month or two before their meeting? What would she think of him? What would she think of him? Suddenly the tingling in his left arm was turning into numbness. His head was beginning to spin, and the lump in his stomach was beginning to make him ill.
“Erik?”
The said magician snapped out of his daze.
“…I should never have pried. I would have been ecstatic going about not knowing this name. I would be fine assuming the female garments in these closets once belonged to your mother. I guess I was ignorant…” Mia laughed bitterly, tossing the handkerchief at Erik’s feet. “But I am not blind.”
Bending down to pick up the handkerchief, Erik’s thumb traced the embroidered name. He still remembered the one evening when Christine had asked him for a handkerchief. He had a tendency to reduce her to tears during any event regarding the poor care she gave her voice. She had asked him, who did not even poses a nose, for a handkerchief.
“Oh, Erik! I didn’t think, I’m so sorry!”
Oh she did think. Just not before she bothered to speak. Sighing Erik brought a chair from the corner; placing it beside Mia he sat trying his best to face her. Her gaze seemed to stay transfixed on her lap. It was now or never, Erik told himself.
“Christine Daae…” He began. At first Erik did not even know were to begin. He recalled all the way back to when he first heard her speak, when he was waiting for the manager to arrive.
“She was gossiping with the little Giry girl? You have seen her?” Mia did not give any sort of response.
The conversation was still etched in Erik’s mind. All he had overheard was that this Christine had lost her father, not uncommon in this day and age, and now was waiting for the angel of music. An angel that was suppose to give her the gift of song. Taking in a listen Erik’s ears had been all but bleeding as a result. Oh, she had pitch. Perfect pitch! What the girl lacked was strength. Her voice had been so weak; Erik could hear it drowning out on the stage.
A part of him had yearned to teach such a voice from the very beginning, but he decided against it for better reasons. Taking a quick look at the girl, so he could not make the mistake of hearing her twice, was the downfall. She looked just like his mother! A younger happier mother that Erik had never personally met, but knew existed before his cursed birth.
“…It baffled me. Truly baffled me. Seeing an almost exact version of her, so young and innocent…”
At first it had been only look with no touch. Perhaps even truer phrases; to look without it being known you were looking. Then he had taken on the role of her angel of music. That had led him to the position of look, while she thought somebody else was looking at her. Erik was content; Christine was a triumph by his teachings alone. She was all he needed in his life, and the angel was all Christine ever wanted.
“Raoul De Chagny…”
This young upstart had been the reason things had started to demise. This young chap had brought out Erik’s jealousy. Jealousy was a very dangerous thing to bring out in Erik. He truly believed that it was his jealousy, his anger towards the Viscount, which had caused him to bring Christine down to his home in the first place.
Oh it was a splendid evening, Christine locked in a trance by his voice. She was not even aware of Erik’s mortality until she awoke. She awoke only to rip off his mask. He had almost strangled her that very night. He was sure he would have if his sick heart had not betrayed him.
“The very first person I ever entertained in my home. Up until then Mia, I had lived six years in solitude. On the very first visit I had an attack and almost died.”
Unfortunately for him he lived, he endured being stricken to a sofa. Not that Christine minded, he knew she felt safe while he was unable to move about. She just made herself at home, playing nurse to an old fool.
From that point on in Erik’s retelling, things began to speed up. He couldn’t help but rush the tale and speak out the details into the blurs they had become. In his mind, things had seemed to go down hill at this point. The two musicians possessed too many secrets. Erik with his drug addiction, and blood coated past. Christine also had secrets, which Erik had known about. Her relationship with the Viscount seemed to grow as theirs dwindle into argument after argument.
Oh how he loathed, when he heard of their escape plans. They would simply vanish. Christine was going to leave him without even a goodbye. Erik knew he had snapped at that point.
The chandelier had fallen, he had spirited Christine away to his home. All was going perfect in his mind. Nadir and the fop were in the torture chamber burning away like lost men in an African jungle.
“…I can not tell you what Christine exactly said to me. I myself cannot recall a lot from that time. I was not all there you might say…When she agreed to marry me, I realized then that it was out of pity. I did not want a wife out of pity Mia…I wanted someone to love me because they did…I let Raoul and the Daroga out of the torture chamber…I gave her away like a father would a daughter, to her new husband…I believe that is all I was to her…the father she could no longer have…after they left I laid down ready to die…Just as I was when Nadir brought you down here. You remember? …That Persian dolt, saved me again…a few months passed when I was up exploring the theatre again…I accidentally caused the back drop of the new set to fall down…that night, you remember? From then on, I swear on my talent Mia…my heart has had nothing but you…”
Erik’s swallowed waiting for Mia’s verdict. Instead of the cold sentence he had been expecting all he received were her sobs. These were not the gentle sobs he had seen before, the ones she desperately tried to hide. Her entire body seemed to shake as each tear fell down her face. The hand covering her mouth muffled her words, but Erik’s gifted ears could hear perfectly what she was saying.
“She hurt you…The first time in so many years you trust someone…and she betrayed you…”
“My dear,” Erik interrupted. “I have made peace with that. Do not harvest any anger, on my behalf.”
“No…but I have betrayed you…”
Erik felt his heart sink. “How?”
“…I betrayed your trust…Your relationship with Christine is over…I…I thought…”
Erik could not help but laugh in relief. “You thought I was keeping her on the side? Oh my dear!” Erik laughed, bringing Mia into an embrace.
“No! I am horrible! How could I not trust you?"
“Natural human curiosity, my dear. You made a clever assumption…deep down, you knew I was hiding something…I have not seen Christine since that day, I do not think I will again…I do not want to…” Erik admitted.
Mia’s breathing slowly evened out, as she continued to rest in Erik’s embrace. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“…Erik?”
“Yes.”
“You and Christine…you said you only touched her…just during the kiss goodbye…”Mia mumbled.
“My dear,” Erik sighed, “I never slept with Christine…You were my first.”
“Oh.” Mia breathed, burying her head into Erik’s chest.
“I can assure you that this simple embrace that we are sharing now is something I would not dare to have ever attempted with Christine.”
“I’m sorry for pestering you like this.” Mia apologized. “I know the last thing you desire is me comparing things between myself and a woman I never met.”
“It is natural for humans to be curious…and a tad paranoid.” Erik replied teasingly. “…But if you really care to my dear…I will be overjoyed to show you some of the actions that never transpired between Christine and myself…”
Okay, my stress level just went down…gods bless writing.
Erik/Ahem/

Of course you help me a lot to, Monsieur muse! Thank you so much for the reviews! If the chapter was to your likening then I’m sure you reviewers wont mind sending me another one! Please remember the disclaimer from above. Also if you guys missed the memo is doing an upgrade on the 30th. So it could delay my update a little. Also my grandmother is having surgery, and I’m the nearest relative…so I’ll try to get the next chapter in as soon as possible. Please read and review, and have a Happy Holiday!
Erik: Happy New Year, as well!

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Portrait of the Soul