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Save Me From My Solitude	By : Pasque Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Het Views: 2589 -:- 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.

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CHRISTINE

It took me much longer than I thought it would to cross the village and make my way up through Erik’s estate to his house. It had appeared deceptively close through my bedroom window yet it took me an hour to walk there, when I finally arrived I was wet through from rain and freezing. No sooner had I arrived but I had realised that I had no idea what to do, I couldn’t exactly just knock on his door could I? So for some insane reason I took it upon myself to climb through a window, my theory being that he couldn’t slam the door in my face if I was already inside.

I had pulled the heavy window up with much effort and managed to swing one leg over the sill and into the room when much to my dismay the window had slid down just a fraction but enough to trap my body half in and half out of the room, with one leg either side! I was half inclined to laugh at myself as I imagined how ridiculous I must look, but that inclination fled as I heard footsteps. I closed my eyes in a grimace expecting shouting, recriminations and quite possibly threats but when his voice came it was cool with just a hint of amusement beneath the surface.

“Christine, why are you straddling my window?”

“Ah…well, um. Erik, I know this doesn’t look good,” I began.

“On the contrary my dear, it looks exceedingly good to the window I imagine,” he relaxed sinking into an armchair apparently contend to watch me wriggling in my futile attempts to escape.

“Oh Erik really!” I exclaimed. “Must you joke at a time like this?”

“Yes I must,” he shot back and for the first time I noticed his appearance. He was rather more dishevelled than I ever remember seeing him, his thick black hair was slightly mussed, his shirt although clean, well pressed and in the traditional wrap over style was hanging open quite widely at his chest and in his hand was clenched a half empty bottle. I can’t recall ever having seen him drink before and although he didn’t sound particularly intoxicated I noticed that his movements were slightly slower and less graceful that normal.

“Erik have you been drinking?” I asked seriously.

He burst out laughing much to my chagrin, “Vicomtess de Chagny are you attempting to lecture me whilst stuck half in, half out of my window in a very… compromising position?”

“Oh just stop laughing and help me will you?” I said exasperated.

“No.”

“What? What on earth do you mean no?” I demanded. “You can’t just leave me here.”

“And why not? You are not exactly my favourite person at the moment Vicomtess, you hurt my feelings, and don’t you know that even monster’s have feelings?”

“Please don’t call yourself that.” I told him quietly. I was still working to free myself from the window, spurred on by that fact that I had realised that in my precarious position my dress had ridden up and was exposing the complete length of my leg, even the top of my stockings was visible and I felt my cheeks begin to burn.

Erik was watching me closely and I knew he took in the sight of my blushing face; he must have noticed the reason for my shame and stood, albeit a little shakily, put the bottle on the floor and walked over to me. I was relieved, convinced that he was going to release me from my window-prison, but in fact all he did was carefully take the hem of my dress between his long pianist’s fingers and lower it so that it fell to my calves, leaving me decent. I noticed that he deliberately averted his eyes from my legs, instead gazing, slightly unfocussed, at the wedding right that adorned my left hand. He also took cares not to touch the skin of my thigh, and in fact he looked thoroughly embarrassed himself.

“Thank you,” I said softly.

He was silent, gazing down at me, still pinned to the window sill. “Erik, please, it’s starting to hurt,” I whimpered.

The second he realised that I was not just embarrassed at being stuck like this, but in actual pain, the situation ceased to be funny to him and he lifted up the window effortlessly and extended his hands to help me fully enter the room.

“Thank you,” I repeated as I stood, finally in the warmth of his house.

“You shouldn’t be here,” was all he replied, releasing my hands and lurching uncertainly away from me. He retrieved his bottle and then indicated that meant I should follow him. I did so and found myself in a beautiful lounge full of rich, passionate colours and fascinating objects that reminded me of Erik’s former home by the lake. He threw himself heavily into a chair by the fire and gestured for me to do the same. Grateful for the warmth of the roaring blaze I neglected a chair in favour of sitting directly in front of the flames on a thick Persian rug. We sat in a surprisingly comfortable silence for a few minutes as he drank and I fanned out my hair, waiting for the heat to dispel the dampness.

“Why are you here?” he finally asked in a resigned tone.

“You know why.”

“Perhaps you’ve thought of something even more hurtful to say?” he said with mock seriousness.

“Please don’t, you know I have come to apologise and beg your forgiveness. I am truly so, so sorry.” I said miserably.

But he seemed uninterested in apologies and brushed mine aside, “Why would you be sorry, you only spoke the truth?” With that he took another great gulp of what, by the smell, I now judged to be brandy.

“Erik please stop drinking,” I requested softly.

“Why?”

“It frightens me.”

He paused for a moment, staring long and hard into my eyes before jumping up and flinging the bottle with such sudden violence that I screamed as it smashed into the fire with a small explosion. I scurried quickly away as he roared, “Now are you frightened?”

“You should not have come here,” he continued angrily. “You have said your piece, now just leave me alone.”

No Erik, I can’t,” I cried, tears falling now. “I can’t because what I said was untrue, I was ashamed to tell you the truth, please listen to me.”

“Speak,” he granted before sinking back into the chair as if his sudden eruption had exhausted him.

“I… I said the most cruel things to you I know… but that is because you were so close to the truth when you guessed the source of my unhappiness. Raoul does not beat me, he would never do that I assure you. More to the point I promise that I would never stand for it, I would break my marriage vows and leave him before I ever allowed myself to submit to that. But, nonetheless he is the one that makes me miserable, and I him.”

I stopped, watching as Erik absorbed this information. “Christine…” he breathed. “Why?”

“God I don’t know,” I sighed heavily, still crying. “I just, I don’t think I am what he thought I was. And I am certain that I did not know him as well as I ought to have when I agreed to marry him. I underestimated how important his family were to him… or rather, how much more important to him than me they are.”

“Poor, miserable Christine,” Erik said sadly, and I was shocked to realise that he wasn’t being cruel, he wasn’t being sarcastic, he was being sincere.

“Erik,” I started slowly. “I know I was cruel, I said wicked, terrible things and I assure you that I knew them to be lies even as I spoke them, but please can you bring yourself to forgive me?”

“Yes mon ange,” he said heavily. He stood and walked over to where I was still partially crouched on the floor in fear, he offered me his hand and led me to a chair where I sat down opposite him. “Of course I can forgive you. I did not realise just how unhappy you are. But I admit I still cannot comprehend why. What I mean is, I saw how much the boy lo-, how much you meant to him… why would his affection for you wane?” I caught the catch in his voice, he was unable to acknowledge the fact that Raoul loved me. I fought hard against the tears as I tried to answer his probing questions this time with honesty, no matter how much it hurt me.

“Well,” I said dryly. “It appears that I am not so perfect as you and my husband once believed as you both fought so ardently for me.”

“What do you mean?” he asked warily.

“I… I am incomplete,” I choked out. “As it were… “unable to fulfil the duties of my sex”, as my mother in law once put it when she thought I was out of earshot. Completely unable to provide my husband with the heir he so craves, and it seems that without that ability… I am useless to him.”

Well there ya go, sorry for the delay in post I had big comp problems. I just wanted to clarify that my Erik is not specifically Leroux, ALW or Kay based, rather a mixture of the two. I like the 2004 movie image of the Phantom (yummy Gerard Butler), the anger and volatile nature of the original Leroux, but I like softer nature of Erik we see in Kay’s book and so she is my main inspiration for this. Hope you’re enjoying it, please please let me know, I love reviews!

Pasque
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Save Me From My Solitude