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Three Spirits	By : BellaLaura Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Crossovers Views: 3412 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera, Halloween, or A Christmas Carol. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
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- 7
My delay is inexcusable I know, yet the past week...has it only been a week since I awoke? That a week ago it was the opening of my eyes saving me from the depths of hell...bringing me back to the blessed awareness of my cold bedchamber. But the echo was there...still resounding in my ears- no not that last maniacal sob of my daughter as I fell into the depths...but the echo of my own admission.

I love Erik.

There is only him...he owns me, a willing slave...there is only him.

Oh where was I? My humblest apologies for my ramblings. As I said the past week has been tumultuous both in events and emotions....still I know it is no excuse for not relating what has occurred.

You may not believe me, my dear, the events that led up to my decision. Most people would call it madness to terminate an engagement the day of the wedding, to leave with only the clothes upon her back, and the few coins in her possession. But I did it...and I am not mad.

I left Raoul standing there in the foyer, utterly dumbfounded. He could not understand how I knew that I was originally intended to only be a mistress. Perhaps he can now go to Italy, it is not my concern any longer..

It is obvious since I am writing to you that I have found him, but this reunion...I cannot say what I expected, but simply tell you what has happened.

I will not rewrite the details of the reasons that made me leave....you would surely think me insane if I told you those. There have been moments that I have wondered if it was all real, or a product of my own desperate heart, which seemed to know far better than my mind what I truly wanted.

Wanted.

It is a wonderful thing to be wanted, to be treasured above anyone and anything. That is all he ever wanted you know, all any of us ever want. To share with, believe in, hold and love someone who does the same for you. That I nearly condemned myself to a living hell is almost beyond my belief, for how can you exist without that...knowing it was once in your reach?.

I am rambling again aren’t I? Truthfully if you can read any of this and understand my meanderings than you do know me so well. Well I promised the details of my journey and now you shall have them.

I left the de Chagney house, my clothes hastily donned and hair in utter disarray. I had no desire to stay there one moment longer, and not because I knew what Raoul had intended me to become but because my heart was seven floors below the Opera and I could bare the separation from it no longer.

I may sound sure of myself now as I write this, but truthfully I had no idea if Erik was still there. I had heard the reports of course, that they had found his home, but no trace of the “ghost” who had occupied it. Would he have stayed there in his formerly beloved opera, or made an attempt to escape the Populaire, Paris, and all the horrid memories contained within? I would not have blamed Erik for wanting to do the later, but I had no other choice but to hope that he was still there, and still alive, within the damaged marble and mortar.

The journey across Paris takes much longer when you are no longer in the accoutrement of the aristocracy. I walked a good portion of the way, no carriage believing that I carried any coin of worth. Here I was not the celebrated ingenue of the Opera, nor the fiancee of a son belonging to one of the oldest surviving aristocratic families in France. No here I was another common woman, disheveled and unchaperoned. I can assure you, my dear, my bravery was want to wane as I traveled as quickly as possible through the less desirable areas of the city. Perhaps there were angels watching over my passage, knowing the desperation in my journey. For whatever reason I finally reached the steps of the once beautiful Opera Populaire.

I had not seen this place since the night Raoul and I fled, but even then we had left through the side entrance, this was the first time I had seen the damage caused by the fire. It, the fire I refer to, is perhaps as much my fault as Erik’s. Would he have done this if I had not unmasked him before everyone? Would we have simply made an escape together if I had been able to tell him the truth that night on the stage as he had bared his soul to me? It is to late for these answers I know, but I beg your forgiveness as well for my lack in judgement. Perhaps the rebuilt Opera (for I did see the signs of the contractors hired to renovate) can heal this past wound.

I walked around to the same side entrance that I had left by, unwilling to journey through the foyer and its lingering memories of the Masquerade. Yes I have even examined that event numerous times, my friend. I should have seen it so much sooner, for if I had truly loved Raoul why would I want to return to the Opera? The answer is so simple now, and it is the same reason I returned to this place.

So many months, so much time...yet I was sure that I could remember the paths down below. The dressing room mirror was broken, the exposed passageway covered with boards, as though a few pieces of lumber could have stopped Erik from doing anything. I found it almost amusing...almost...that someone had taken the time to write a curse against the Opera Ghost. I looked around the messy room in an attempt to find anything to dislodge them, succeeding as a I wielded a candelabra with what I thought was an impressive show of strength. The damp air flowed freely as I pulled the last barrier away and stepped into the passage.

It had not changed, dank and moldy, cobwebs everywhere. The twists and turns were much harder to navigate without his presence, but in having no where to turn back to, one is sometimes forced to journey into the darkness. I had no candle, torch, or lantern to illuminate my way, my hands glided along the stone walls as I strained my ears for the sound of lapping water signaling that I had finally reached the lake.

My lack of vision extended to the dilemma I now found myself in, for I having safely reached the lake I now had no means or ways by which to cross it. I felt blindly around in the dark, hoping that perhaps the boat had been docked here, yet knowing if that were the case it meant in all probability that Erik was gone from this place. My search became frantic, a sob escaped as my hands found only empty air upon the shore. I could not...would not give up.

My next sob was silenced as the cold leather covered my mouth, the heat from the skin encased within burning against my lips. The voice, still a dark sinister velvet, hissed against my ear, “What the hell are you doing here, Madame?”

I had found him. Or to be more precise Erik had found me.

My reply was muffled by the weight of his gloved hand against my mouth. Erik released me roughly, so much so that when I stumbled away both feet met the icy water of the lake. I backed out as quickly as possible, turning in the encompassing darkness in an effort to relocate him. Erik was still near, I could feel his presence more than hear him, and certainly there was no light to let me know exactly where he was.

There was a scrape, a flicker of light and then the small lantern upon the stone floor released its poor glow. I forced a shiver away as I followed the feeble light upwards ( I swear it was from the cold mind you, not any fear I felt...once you have felt the flames of hell there are few things you truly fear, and my Erik was not one of those...no never again would I fear him.), but it was too late...he backed into the shadows.

“I asked you a question, Madame.”

“I..I was looking for you.”

“Indeed?” His voice took the cold, hard timbre I remembered so well. “And should I be expecting the gendarmes at any moment? I am surprised they did not think to use you sooner.”

“There is no one Erik...I am alone...I swear it.”

“Ah yes...and I above anyone should be well aware of the worth of your sworn word.”

His words cut, I would be lying if I said they did not, but I could not retort harshly, for in God’s truth knowing the pain I had caused him I was willing to endure anything for this opportunity.

“I know you are angry and..”

“Angry Madame? You know nothing...” He stepped into the light then, his eyes flashing fire only a fraction before his hands grabbed my shoulders and yanked me to him. He was unmasked, but each side of his face, both the perfect and the marred, radiated the pain in his voice as he continued.

“You, you spoiled little bitch...did you not sheathe your dagger far enough into my heart the last time?”

“Erik I am sorry! You frightened me...”

“Yes I did, didn’t I?” His grip tightened on my shoulders as he pulled me even closer. “Monsieur le Fantome is famous for that didn’t you know? Or do I dare assume you were a totally ignorant fool about the opera ghost...that the tales of his infamous face weren’t true?”

“No it wasn’t that..”

“Enough with your lies. That is what you are best at is it not, Madame? One can imagine the tale you told your husband to come here...or is he perhaps lurking around the corner waiting for your signal to shoot?” He gave a dramatic turn, dragging me with him as he searched for other intruders.

“I told you...I am alone.”

“And why is that Madame? Did you lose some trinket on your last visit to my home? Something your precious Viscount couldn’t replace?”

“There is.”

“And what is that Madame?”

“You.”

“Don’t mock me Madame, I no longer have the patience for your childish games.”

“Stop calling me Madame!” My temper flared at hearing the term yet again. “I am not married, and I am not playing games!”

Although obviously shocked by my outburst, Erik stood as a stone. The pain in his eyes was almost more than I could bear, and my mind racked itself for the fastest way to explain everything. My arms throbbed as the blood rushed back to the areas released from his harsh grip, yet I refused to either glance or step away from him. He would believe nothing I said.

Would he?

“I love you.” The look of disbelief melted as I closed the space between us and met his lips with mine.

This kiss was utterly different from the last we had shared. Last time the tension of life and death hung in the air, the doubt of my reasons for kissing him, the hurt of being sent away...even if it was for my own safety

This time there was freedom, hope and a numbing passion. Inexperience melted away as the warmth of his lips fell upon mine. My hands held his face much the same as the last time, but his hands, those beautiful musicians hands changed. The last time they hung limply by his side in disbelief, now they pulled me hard against his body, no space left between us at all.

I felt his hands move from my rear, sliding roughly up my sides until they cupped my breasts through the fabric of my gown. His touch, hot enough to burn through the cloth, caused me to arch and gasp harder against him. Our tongues, tentative at first, grew bold as the moments passed, moving from gentle exploration to hungered, impassioned mating. Our bodies reflected the same desire, his hard frame pressing and moving against my own. Instinct drove me to respond in mind, wanting more with each moment.

Suddenly Erik’s mouth froze on mine as his body stiffened, and a harsh groan sounded deep in his throat. With a harshness I was well familiar with he pushed me back, the cold air rushing into the space where his warmth had just been.

“What?” My fingers moved up to lips that were now swollen from his kiss.

“Leave me.”
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Three Spirits