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Do I Dream Again?	By : LaurieBaker Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Het Views: 10050 -:- 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
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In the hidden corridor behind the dance rehearsal room mirror, Erik could hardly believe his ears. Christine had run away from the Vicomte! She had set off to London all by herself! There was to be no marriage!

His thoughts raced so that he barely heard Madame Giry and Meg scurry away.

The weather would be unpleasant in London, so foggy and damp, he mused. He was not sure that he would like it. It would be so unlike the cool evenings of Paris, the City of Light. Even though he spent much of his time in his underground lair, he had been partial to walks along the Seine in the wee hours of the night. And there was the matter of leaving his beloved Opera House which he had helped Monsieur Garnier build.

Stop it! He silently screamed at himself. It did not matter what the weather was like in England, the voice inside his head grumbled, for he had no intention of going there ever. And he should not have to miss his home for he would not leave it!

Christine had made her choice long ago.

So what if she had come to her senses at last and realized that the Vicomte was indeed a pompous bore? That was no reason for him to follow at her footsteps like a faithful puppy dog. Even a dog knows when he has been kicked!

Snorting in disgust, Erik realized he was in no mood to return to his home underground. He needed fresh air. The daylight was darkening into early evening. Perhaps it would be safe enough to retire to the roof of the Opera House where he could perch like a gargoyle and collect his thoughts.

Had the child gone mad setting off all alone on a journey to a foreign country? Did she not know how easily she could be taken advantage of? Did she even have any friends or family there to show her about? How could she? Her father was gone. She never knew of her mother who had died when she was just a babe. Her other guardian, Mamma Valerius, still resided in Paris as far as he knew. What could she be thinking going off like that?

Not that it was any of his concern. Why should he fret for her well being?

He should content himself with living out the rest of his days in stony stoicism, drowning in his bottles of wine and Elissa’s purchased flesh. He was too old to go running after a frivolous woman who obviously cared nothing for him.

Why, right here on this very rooftop, she had insulted and betrayed him viciously!

Oh, could he ever forget the agony of hearing her sing those sweet words of love to that boy? What he would not have given to hear her sing to him that way!

But she would have none of him.

No matter that he had made her the most popular prima donna of Paris! No matter that he had wooed her with all of the devotion he could muster in his heart, preparing to offer his hand in marriage to her!

And the way she had spoken of him to her lover…the way she had emasculated him before that handsome prince…right here on this very rooftop…

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Can I ever escape from that face, so distorted, deformed, it was hardly a face in that darkness?

Damn her for revealing his secrets to this man! It was not enough that she had to so rudely tear his mask off and humiliate him in the cruelest fashion. But now she had to tell her handsome boyfriend all about it. Damn her for her betrayal!

Yet his voice filled my spirit with a strange sweet sound. In that night, there was music in my mind. And with music, my soul began to soar and I heard as I’d never heard before…

Erik’s anger gave way to blind passion despite himself. He yearned to join her side, even if it meant hurling the handsome Vicomte to his death, and swear to her that he felt the same way. Nothing ever came as close to heaven as the sound of her voice when she sang the music that he had written for her. And that would only the beginning for them, if she would only give him a chance...

Yet in his eyes, all the sadness of the world…those pleading eyes that both threaten and adore…

“I never meant to scare you, Christine,” he whispered in the night air. “I only meant to love you.”

In her voice, he heard a sort of compassion that he was unfamiliar with. Even his own mother had never spoken about him with such tenderness. If she would only cast aside this young man, he would forgive her for her bout of weakness. He could forgive her anything.

Pleadingly, he called out to her but she only thought that it was her inflamed imagination.

Then that cursed boy began to make love to her, wooing her with his protection, promising her sunlight and daffodils. How skilled he was at playing the knight in shining armor! And how little he knew her, talking to her of daylight and freedom when Christine thrived on darkness and chains! How little she knew herself! What had she been before he had taken her under his wing? A sad-eyed chorus girl with no future, that’s what! And she, being the naïve creature she was, fell for the Vicomte’s act completely as she agreed to run off with him on his fancy horses to do God only knew what!

The thought of the blond hero and the brunette ingénue locked in each other’s naked embrace incensed Erik to the point where he saw red...red the exact color of blood.

Once the loving couple had left, he finally gave in to the pain that was shriveling at his heart, crying out with the sounds of a hurt animal, unable to help but to give in to the deepest despair. Then his grief hardened into the worse sort of violent anger.

Yes, he had killed Joseph Buquet! And he would do it again! The man was following him about, spreading all sorts of rumors about him, and being a general nuisance. When he followed him about on the catwalk during the performance of Il Muto, that had been the last straw. He had been warned! Madame Giry, on his own instructions, had warned him to hold his tongue or face certain death. But the drunken fool ignored all caution and paid the consequences.

But perhaps it had also been more than that. Perhaps what Erik could not attain in love, he would attain in death. No matter. He never considered his crimes very deeply, feeling he owed humanity nothing.

Buquet had not been the first man he had killed and most assuredly would not be the last. For now, he felt like murdering all of Paris. He wanted to tear the Vicomte de Chagny limb from limb. He wanted to choke Christine to death. And then he would kill himself and lie by her side, united with her in death, as if they were Shakespeare’s famous lovers, Romeo and Juliet.

If they wanted him to be a beast, he would be a beast! By God, he would show them all!

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As Madame Giry proceeded to enter her small makeshift dressing room and office, she was grasped around the throat by a gloved hand.

“Erik!” she rasped. “I’ve been expecting you.”

The masked face appeared out of the darkness.

“I want to know everything, Madame,” he said coolly. “You are to let Meg go to London to visit Christine. You are to have her write to you. And you are to let me know of her whereabouts. Is that understood?”

“Please, Erik, no…” she begged.

The choking grip tightened. He could see in her eyes that she understood that this was no game. Despite their friendship, he would kill her if she did not obey. This was too important to him.

“Very well, you win,” she whispered, barely able to breathe.

When he released her, Madame Giry hauled back and slapped him across the face repeatedly, knocking his mask across the room.

“You cur! I should never have rescued you!” she cursed. “I should have let you die in that gypsy cage like the dog that you are!”

“You may insult me all you like, Madame,” he responded coldly as he retrieved his mask, placing it back on with all of the dignity that he could muster. “It is of no matter to me. Do not act as if you have received no benefit from my friendship. You and Meg have lived quite comfortably off of the regular portion of my salary that I allot you. Much more than you would receive as a dance instructor, is it not?”

Madame Giry did not lower herself to answer him.

“Antoinette,” he coaxed in soft tones. “There is no need for our friendship to deteriorate over this matter. You know I would never harm Meg. She is a sweet little girl, destined to be an Empress!”

“It is not Meg that I am concerned about,” she answered sharply. “And you know it!”

“I shall await your news, Madame,” he responded, blithely ignoring her comments about Christine before kissing her hand with mocking chivalry.

Then he departed quickly, for he had many affairs to put in order before his trip.

Yes, he would go to London, despite all reason. No, he was not trying to win Christine back again. He would not force her to his will. He knew where he was not wanted. Yet he could not help himself but to watch over her. It was second nature to him now after having played her guardian angel for so long. That was all that he wanted, just to make sure that she was safe.

Perhaps if he told himself the lie enough times, he would believe it.

Erik met with Elissa one last time, not to engage in a lustful bout, but to say goodbye. She was awarded for her troubles with a large amount of money which would last her for several months until she could find a more suitable occupation. Thankfully, there were no tears or moaning at his departure on her part. While Elissa had been a sweet young girl who had made a man out of him, he preferred to pretend that she had never existed.

Nadir, on the other hand, was harder to deal with.

“Do you mean to tell me you are going to leave this opera house that you love so?” he asked incredulously. “And all for a woman?!”

“Nadir,” Erik shrugged with indifference. “My home is gone anyway. The best of my furnishings were torn apart by that mob. This place was designed to be my sanctuary from the cruelty of the human race. Now in this small bunker that I have eked out for myself, it is not better than a prison. My home here is no more.”

“But to leave Paris!”

“Paris is just another place to me,” he answered. “I have no great love of the city. Not any more.”

“If I had known you were going to react in such a dramatic fashion, I never would have told you about Raoul de Chagny at all! And all because I could not bear to see you committing slow suicide at the bottom of a bottle. But to pursue her to this extent,” Nadir shook his head. “She is bad for you, my friend.”

“Do I stick my nose into your love affairs, Nadir?”

“I have no love affairs,” Nadir answered wryly.

“Well, that is your misfortune. I would thank you to stay out of mine.”

“It’s your funeral,” his friend quipped.

“But I’m already dead, my friend! HA HA HA HA!!!!”

At Erik’s maniacal laughter, Nadir huddled down into a miserable mass. Apparently, this news of Christine had made his friend even more insane than he already was.

Yet despite everything, Erik felt a glimmer of hope arise. At least now, he had something to do when he would wake up. There was a purpose in life again.

All he had to do was wait.
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Do I Dream Again?