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Forget Me Not	By : spikesbint Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > AU/AR Views: 12354 -:- 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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Help me say goodbye

Christine slept the whole night away. It had been the most peaceful rest she had had in months and she felt the better for it. She opened her eyes slowly and looked around the room. From the grey light that penetrated through the drapes, she would guess that it was almost dawn. Smiling sleepily, she lent back into the strong arms that held her close to him.

“Raoul.” She sighed before gasping. The memories of the night before came back to her in one cruel rush. Christine turned her head to meet the mocking greyish blue eyes of Erik.

Before she had awoken, he had been watching her sleep. He had even been so bold as to stroke the outline of her face, but drawing away as she had stirred. The smile on her face had warmed him…until she had muttered that one word…Raoul. It had struck him more fiercely than any physical blow ever could. Now he knew he was glad that their lovemaking of before had not been allowed to reach its natural conclusion.

The next time he held her in his arms, and there would be a next time, he would make sure that there would be no doubt in her mind as to whose arms she lay in.

“Sorry to disappoint my dear,” he replied coldly as he moved away. Fully anticipating her reaction before she could protest at his embrace.

Christine instantly felt colder, having been deprived of his nearness. She studied him in silence, drawn to his piercing eyes as she had always been. Beneath the studied cold indifference, she thought she perceived a flicker of pain, which she knew she must have caused by calling out her dead husband’s name. About to open her mouth to explain, her eyes widened in shock at the sound of some unknown woman screaming down the hallway.

Christine looked at Erik, but he showed no surprise. She scrambled off the bed and left the room. Erik got up from the bed, but at a more leisurely pace, only sorry that their little interlude was over. He already knew the reason for the commotion out in the hallway. What was done was done and haste was not going to change that.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Christine was confused as she saw Madame Giry standing next to the top of the grand staircase, apparently comforting a young maid in her arms as she sobbed hysterically.

“Don’t come any closer Christine,” Madame Giry warned her.

“Why?” asked Christine. “What has happened?”

The young girl chose to look up at Christine with a tearstained face. “H-he’s dead,”

Christine felt coldness penetrate her mind and heart as a latent fear gripped her. “Who is dead?” she demanded as she advanced on them both. She was filled with a morbid curiosity to know the truth.

Madame Giry knew it was pointless to keep Christine as bay as she glanced towards the banister. Christine took a steadying breath and looked over the edge. She pressed her hand to her mouth to suppress the scream that threatened to escape.

Rene De Chagny looked up at her with empty dead bloodshot eyes. Christine gripped the railing, sure, that she would have fallen to the floor if she had not. Erik chose at that moment to arrive. He stood beside her and looked down at the dead man dispassionately before looking at Christine defiantly. Inside he was begging her not to believe the worst of him, although she had full right, considering his violent past.

“How inconvenient,” drawled Erik before walking away. He had always found indifference as a useful cloak to mask his real feelings.

Christine watched his retreating form for several seconds before coming to her senses. Her legs finally decided to work as she followed him down the hallway, taking his sleeve, she steered him back into her bedroom and closed the door behind them.

“What do you mean inconvenient?” She demanded. “You knew he was dead…when you came back to me and I asked where he was…you knew he was hanging on that banister…like…like…” she stammered.

“Like the dog he was?” Erik finished for her. “Yes I knew. He got what he deserved. Please spare me the charade of telling me that you actually care he is dead Christine.”

She fell silent and looked at the rug.

“I thought not.” he replied.

Christine looked at up at him again. “Did you kill Rene?” she asked quietly.

“I wondered when you would get around to that Christine. The answer is no I did not, although I was not exactly quick to help him when he found himself in his current predicament either,”

“So you just left him there to die?” she asked.

“I did not say that either…Christine do you intend to be my judge, jury and executioner?” he asked.

“No, I just need to know the truth that is all. Do you think there are any witnesses to what occurred?” she asked. “There will be an investigation…two Vicomte’s dead in a matter of two weeks…”

“Yes, it is rather careless of the De Chagny’s isn’t it?” he asked.

“I cannot see the humour in this situation. You have the right of it, I will not mourn for Rene, but I will not make light of his death as if it were some big escapade as you are doing,”

“But I would? Because I kill without a thought and murder all that’s good?” he enquired.

Christine flinched. “Where did you hear those words?”

“Surely you remember where you spoke them…in the little chapel at the opera house while you and your Prince Charming plotted my downfall. Memories are all I have had to sustain me these long empty years Christine,”

She stiffened, looking at him hardly. “I will not apologise for the truth,” she replied, her voice raising an octave. “You killed to get to me…Piangi, what did he ever do to you?”

Erik sighed. “That was most regrettable, but guilty as charged…I misjudged the pressure on the rope and I broke his neck. I never meant to kill him…but the others…people that pried their noses in where they didn’t belong they knew the risks they were taking. Ubaldo Piangi was far from innocent…did you know that he and Carlotta were lovers?”

“N-no…I…” Christine was shocked; she walked over to a chair and sat down in it.

“And that Piangi was married with several little Piangi’s? He left a wife and children in poverty to become that woman’s lapdog! Now tell me he is innocent Christine.” Erik looked at her white face, but felt no pity, he was too angry at her inquisition.

“Please try to see it from my point of view Erik. You are asking me to believe that you did not kill Rene, you are back but a day and already people are dying around me.”

“Death is a part of life Christine…no matter how it visits us, it visits us all in the end,” he replied, walking over to the window and looking out across the expansive park.

Erik was so lost in his thoughts, that he did not feel the feather light touch of her fingers as they covered his hand. He turned to look at her in surprise.

“Tell me Erik…tell me you did not kill Rene and I will believe you,” she whispered.

Erik turned to look at her, still holding her hand in his. His gaze was unwavering, as he looked deep into her eyes. “Rene slipped, he was choking. I made a move to help him after he promised to leave this place and never return. I was about to assist when his neck broke. I left him there, as it would have looked more incriminating to anyone that found him. They will say it was an accident, from the smell of him he had been drinking enough to fill the Seine,”

“Thank you, “she sighed with relief. “That is all I wanted to know,”

He smiled down at her. She watched his lips curve up at the corner, becoming rather conscious of those strong lips. She knew how they tasted and felt against her own. Erik became aware of where her eyes rested, her own rosebud mouth was slightly parted, and he saw the flick of her tongue and felt a fierce tug of desire for her. He let her hand fall from his grasp, to curve his free hand around her neck. His fingers stroking the sensitive flesh, causing goose bumps to rise across her skin.

“Christine…I lo…”

Both of their attentions turned to the doorway as Madame Giry stood there observing them both. Her expression was stern, but indecipherable as she regarded them. Christine flushed guiltily and moved away.

“I thought you may like to know that the local magistrate has been sent for,” She informed them before leaving with a rustle of her black taffeta skirts.

Christine bit her lip as she looked at Erik. “I don’t think you should be here. You are still a wanted man,” she reminded him.

“Why do you keep pushing me away Christine? I know you want me too,” he asked.

“Its wrong Erik…I am a good Catholic…to lie with you would be a sin,” she replied.

“The only sin is denying what you feel,” he whispered seductively in her ear.

Christine looked into his eyes, anger flared in them briefly before he mastered it. His anger had always frightened her and aroused her at the same time. Before she knew what he was about, he lowered his lips and kissed her, hardly and passionately. Christine groaned into his mouth, wrapping her arms involuntarily around his neck, returning his kisses with equal ardour. Erik pulled away, leaving her wanting more.

“Sleeping beauty…” he mused, as he looked down at her face, her eyes still closed.

She opened them slowly in confusion. “Wha-at?” she asked, through the haze of her passion addled brain.

“You have been asleep in a dream….all these years…waiting for my touch,”

Christine came to her senses. “Why you arrogant…swi…”

Erik placed a finger on her lips. “There, there I wouldn’t want to see those lips sullied with anything other than my kisses,” he smiled at her. “There will be a reckoning between you and I. You know it, and I know it…it’s just a matter of when,”

Christine’s hands clenched at her sides as she glared at him in mute rage.

“The cat got your tongue Christine? Or should I say…the Phantom,” he smirked before turning on his heel and walking from the room, leaving her in a state of frustrated desire and anger at his impertinence.

Sleeping beauty indeed! Raoul had been a very tender lover…but…she closed her mind off to the but…however; it crept back in to haunt her. Raoul had never caused her to burn from want of touching him. There she had thought it, and confession was several days away. Christine slumped on the bed in, her emotions in a maelstrom of contradictions.

* * * * * * *

When Erik left Christine’s room and walked out into the hallway, he was not surprised to see Madame Giry waiting for him.

He held up a hand. “I know what you are going to say before you say it, so please spare us the time of debating the matter. I did not kill Rene De Chagny,”

“Then you are wrong. I was simply going to say that cannot stay here,”

“Thank you Madame Giry, I have already had that pointed out to me by Christine. Although I am innocent in this matter, I feel I should acquaint you with Rene De Chagny’s favoured nighttime activities. He was about to violate Christine. I stumbled upon him in the act, Christine can fill you in on the details. I am to go to Paris and await your arrivals there,”

“I will see about having you a carriage ordered,” she replied.

“Thank you,” Erik replied as he went to his room.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

He had barely even bothered to unpack on his arrival. Therefore, it was no surprise that he was ready to leave within half an hour. Christine could hear him moving about in the next room. So he was leaving as she had asked, but where would he go?

Madame Giry entered the room unannounced. Christine sat up on the bed and looked at her with mournful eyes.

“What you walked in on…it is not what you think,”

Madame Giry smiled a mirthless smile. “Christine, I am old but I am not stupid. I know he spent the night in your room, or at least he came from it when the alarm was raised about Rene. You do not have to tell me anything. You are a grown woman. It is no ones business but your own. I did not come here to talk about that…Erik is leaving…do not look so concerned, he will await us in Paris,” Madame Giry informed her.

Christine sighed with relief, before looking up at Madame Giry. “He tried to rape me you know…Rene…”

Madame Giry made a sound of distress. “Erik told me. Had he tried to harm you before last night?”

Christine looked away.

“You have to stop carrying around the weight of the world on your shoulders. When will you realise there are people here that love and care for you and are willing to share the burden?” asked Madame Giry, a note of anger creeping into her voice.

“I am sorry,” she said quietly. “All those months of taking care of Raoul alone just made me more self reliant…that has to be a good thing,”

“But it has also made you boneheaded at the same time,” replied the older woman, taking her in her arms, to soften her words.

There was a knock at the door before it opened. Erik stood there in his travelling cape. Even with his face half covered, he was breathtaking to her. From the white collar of his shirt that was peeking from beneath the cape, right down to his black shiny shoes. Christine had to swallow a couple of times before she could trust herself to speak. It was then that it hit her…every arrogant word he had spoken to her less than half an hour ago was true. She had been asleep these past thirteen years. Now that he was here, she was as awake and alive as she had been when she was a green girl at the opera populaire. She felt such a hunger for life, which it threatened to consume her.

Her heart already ached at the prospect of his leaving, but she would not give him the satisfaction of showing it to him. She needed to keep some small part of herself for her, or she feared that she would become engulfed by the emotions he aroused in her, sometimes just by a single look. It frightened her a little in the same way it had frightened her all those years ago.

Aware of Madame Giry’s presence in the room, Erik walked towards Christine and took her hand and kissed, it. His lips lingered on her flesh for a moment. Although it had been meant as a chaste form of farewell, it had burned through Christine like the most intimate of kisses they had shared. A slow blush coloured her cheeks. Erik smiled at her and nodded at Madame Giry before he left.

He turned around to look at Christine once more. All pretence had slipped from his face as he allowed her to see the raw emotions that glittered in his eyes. Christine felt a sharp pain in her chest, the agony in his eyes reminded her of that goodbye so many years ago.

“Until Paris,” he said shakily.

“Paris,” was all she could respond.

Tears moistened her eyelashes as she struggled to maintain control of herself. She wanted nothing more than to run to his arms and beg him to never leave her again. At that moment, her eyes rested on the silver framed photograph of her husband that sat on her bedside table. It was like a dash of icy cold water to her senses as the shame crept in once more.

Erik saw what had caught her attention; he turned on his heel angrily and left the room. Madame Giry had watched the couple and their reactions with interest. Whatever Erik had done in her room last night, he had not made love to her. He still had the look of a man, hungry for love and for the touch of the woman, he desired more than life itself.

Christine watched from the window of her bedroom as the carriage rolled by, taking with it her heart. A heart that was troubled with the love for a man who had loved her and cared for her for almost thirteen years and had been taken from her and a man whom she had thought dead, but now lived. Why couldn’t life be simpler? She asked herself angrily as she awaited the magistrate.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

One week later….

“Is that everything? I do not wish to return to this place ever,” Christine said with feeling.

Madame Giry squeezed Christine’s arm in understanding. Rene’s death had been of very little inconvenience to the members of the De Chagny family. They seemed to be as the hydra in Greek mythology…cut one of their heads off and another sprouted in its place. A rather young and unassuming man by the name of Etienne had arrived to take over the estate. He was gentle and kind in his manner and had offered to let Christine stay as long as she liked. However, she had refused him, eager to make her own way in life.

She had sent a letter to the managers of the Opera Populaire and they had received her request with great alacrity. Christine settled against the cushions of the carriage. The future looked much brighter than it had a few days ago.

She took one last look at the house, before she turned away. “Goodbye Raoul,” she whispered before she glanced at Meg, who looked at her with a little smile, before taking her hand in hers. “Thank you for being here,” Christine smiled.

“What are friends for?” asked Meg.

“No, not friends…sisters,” Christine replied firmly.

The last few days had been filled with questions about Rene and the manner of his death. Fortunately, several servants had been able to attest to Rene’s love of strong drink. Although the magistrate had been very interested to find that, the key, which Rene had worn around his neck, had been the key to Christine’s bedroom. He had finally ruled that it had been an unfortunate accident and there was no crime. Christine had been relieved that he had shown little interest in her short-term guest that had left before his arrival.

The plan was to go Meg’s apartment and freshen up, before paying a visit to Monsieur’s Andre and Firmin to arrange an audition. Christine hoped that Erik would pay them a visit and would be willing to coach her voice. She knew it was presumptive of her, but he had taken such pleasure in teaching her once, maybe he would again. She knew her voice was still good, but it could be better, having grown sadly rusty from little use. She and Raoul had rarely entertained and he had tried to play down her roots in the performing arts.

Her heart raced within her chest. They were on their way to Paris…Erik was there and she had missed him with an agony, she had never imagined possible.

TBC
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Forget Me Not