Adult-FanFiction.org : Books

Emptiness	By : Josephine1881 Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Slash Views: 8257 -:- 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
- 35
- 36
- 37
Author's Note: I wish all my readers a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! I hope you'll find some nice Phantom-y presents under your tree!

Disclaimer: See Chapter One!

Chapter Thirty-Six

This time, it was I who reacted quickly. Without pausing to think about what I was doing, I stepped between Erik and the door.

He threw me an irritated glance.

“What are you doing there, Raoul?” he asked.

“I’m... stopping you,” I replied hesitantly, not sure whether he meant the question seriously. “I... I don’t want you to murder Philippe,” I added, in case it wasn’t obvious enough.

“You know as well as I do that if I wanted to leave this room, I could do so in an instant,” Erik remarked coolly. “You can’t stop me. But if you insist, we can talk about it first.” He gave a little sigh. “I should have known you’d want to talk. You always do.”

I smiled tentatively. It was not so much the reminder of our first romantic encounter that made me smile. I didn’t feel like thinking about them just now. No, it was more the fact that Erik was willing to talk at all, willing to listen to me. The cold fury had vanished from his eyes, at least for the moment.

Reluctantly, Erik put the Punjab Lasso back under his cloak.

“Talk, then,” he said, leaning against the wall next to the door. “Tell me why I shouldn’t murder your brother.”

“Because... because it wouldn’t be right,” I answered. It wasn’t the best of answers, but it was the only one I could come up with. My mind was still numb with shock that he considered doing such a thing at all.

Erik raised an eyebrow.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” he told me. “You should have understood by now that my definition of right and wrong is not the same as most people’s. I make my own definitions. And according to them, murdering your brother would be perfectly acceptable.”

I bit my lip. He was right, of course. As far as I could tell, his version of right and wrong lacked something important, something other people had: the general knowledge that murder, for whichever reason, was wrong. To him, some actions were so terrible that they could only be punished with death.

“I know that in your world, killing is wrong,” Erik remarked, almost as if he had read my mind. “But that’s only a matter of your upbringing, your religion and your moral standards.” He gave a short, humourless laugh. “I’m different,” he went on. “I think your brother has hurt you enough.”

He moved forwards and cupped my face with his strong hands. A shiver ran down my spine.

“I’ve heard the way he talks about you,” he said gently. “I’ve heard it in the corridors of the opera. That man is despicable, Raoul. Do you want him to hurt you again and again, until one day, he’ll hurt you so badly that you’ll see no other way than taking your own life, just to make it stop?”

I stared at him in surprise. How did he do it? How could he know that more than once, I had sat in my room, wondering whether I really was as useless and hopeless as Philippe made it sound and considering the final option? Only the thought of Christine and the knowledge that taking my life would be a sin had always held me back.

“Raoul,” Erik breathed, running his fingers over my face. The feather-like touch was strangely consoling. “Raoul, it is all right. I know that the thought of me taking a life upsets you, but it needn’t. You won’t see it or hear it or have anything to do with it. It won’t be difficult. I’ll lure your brother out into the street, into a dark corner, and do it there. If you want me to, I’ll pretend that it wasn’t I who did it. I won’t use the Punjab Lasso, but something else, and make it look as if a thief had tried to steal his money. It happens every day in the streets of Paris. It is no problem.”

I turned away from him, feeling rather sick. How could he talk of murder in such a cool, detached way, as if it were no more difficult than staging a scene in a play?

“You’ve grown pale,” Erik observed. “You should sit down.”

“No...” I protested. “I don’t want to.”

“Oh, don’t be foolish,” Erik said briskly. “Would you rather pass out on the floor?”

I allowed him to lead me to the sofa by the fireplace, on which I sank down gratefully. My legs had indeed been shaking.

Erik disappeared from my side for a moment, then returned with a glass of water, which I knew he had filled from the jug on the table. He pressed the glass into my hand. I took a tentative sip and felt the nausea vanish slowly.

“Better?” Erik asked.

I nodded weakly.

“I’m sorry,” I began, but he interrupted me.

“It is all right,” he assured me. “I’ve seen it happen before. People who are not used to such topics of conversation often find them disturbing.”

Again, I nodded. Disturbing was the right word.

“May I?” Erik asked, indicating the spot on the sofa next to me.

“Sure,” I replied. I knew that the conversation was not over yet.

He sat down. For a while, we didn’t speak. I drank a little more water, and Erik watched me in silence.

“I can understand that the situation is difficult for you,” he said when I had put the glass down again. “Worthless as he may be, Philippe is your brother. It is natural that you are... attached to him.”

His voice was a little too matter-of-fact for my taste. He sounded like someone who had only ever read about that kind of feeling in books. But then, could I blame him? I knew that he didn’t have any brothers or sisters himself. Perhaps it was asked too much that he should fully understand my situation.

I tried to imagine how I’d feel if Philippe was no longer there, if he was... killed in an accident, for instance, something that didn’t involve Erik. There would be no sarcastic remarks anymore, no cruel little comments on my love life. It would be very peaceful. But still... Philippe had always been part of my life. He was my only brother. Even though I sometimes hated what he did to me, I loved him. I could very well imagine not seeing him for a while, maybe even for a long time, but knowing that he wasn’t there at all... no. No.

“I don’t want Philippe to die,” I told Erik flatly. “And I don’t want you to murder him. I don’t want you to murder anyone... ever again.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“You know I have killed before,” he reminded me, not unkindly. “It is part of my history.”

I nodded. Yes, I knew that he had killed before, but I preferred not to think about it.
Again, Erik seemed to read my mind.

“You can’t close your eyes and pretend it has never happened,” he said. “I have killed, Raoul. You know about two occasions, and there have been more. I’m not proud of it, but I can’t deny that it has happened, and neither can you. If you truly love me, you have to accept it. Do you think you can do that?”

I didn’t reply straight away. Staring into space, I forced myself to think about the topic I had always avoided. I saw it all before my mind’s eye: I saw Erik and his victim, a nameless, faceless man who had done nothing wrong except being in Erik’s way, just like Signor Piangi and who knew how many others. I saw the Punjab Lasso fly through the air, landing right around the man’s neck. I almost felt the pain as Erik pulled it more and more tightly.

Did he enjoy the act of killing? No, not in such a case, I decided. It was only a way of achieving his goals. But wasn’t that even worse? Moreover, he had killed for revenge, too. Would the murder of Philippe have been something like revenge for how cruelly he had treated me?

In a twisted way that I couldn’t quite grasp myself, I almost felt a little proud that Erik would kill for me. I didn’t want him to do it at all, of course, but the thought that he wanted to help me was nice. Murder just wasn’t the right way of helping me.

Perhaps Erik hadn’t had someone like me in the past, someone to tell him that it wasn’t the right thing to do. Erik was right: I could not go on pretending that this part of him didn’t exist, just because I didn’t like it. I couldn’t change the past either. But now that I was part of Erik’s life, I could try to influence his future actions.

“I can accept it,” I replied at last. “At least, I think I can. But only if you promise me one thing: You must never kill again.”

This time, it was Erik who didn’t speak for a long time. I brought the glass to my lips again, but it was empty. I had just put it on the floor next to the sofa, when Erik cleared his throat. Quickly, I straightened up again.

“There are situations which you cannot imagine,” he began slowly. “Situations of life and death... situations in which killing the other is the only way of surviving. But... I know how much it upsets you, Raoul, and I don’t want to hurt you. I will try not to kill again. That is the best answer I can give you.”

I gave him a little smile. Instinctively, I knew that it was indeed the best answer I could hope for. Erik was so very different from me. I knew that there were situations which I, with my sheltered upbringing, could not begin to imagine, situations in which Erik would have to make difficult decisions. All I could hope was that it would be decisions that I could live with.

“So,” Erik said after a moment. “I will not kill that brother of yours then. It’s a pity because I was planning to stay for the night...”

“You can still do that,” I told him, to my own surprise. “You’ll stay here. And if we meet Philippe... I’ll tell him where to go! He can bring his hundreds of girls, so I can bring the man I love.”

I leaned over and gave Erik a kiss.

“I won’t be afraid of him any longer,” I promised. “Not now that I’ve got you.”
- 35
- 36
- 37
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Emptiness