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...My name	By : larch Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > AU/AR Views: 3899 -:- 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
- 1-...My name
- 2-Two
- 3-three
- 4-Four
- 5-five
- 6-six
- 7-seven
- 8-eight
- 9-nine
- 6
- 7
- 8
‘Megan’s right. It’s not my fault. Corset or pants, I wouldn’t have been able to save him. She’s right. I tried.
I loved him. I would have died with him, if it weren’t for… him.
I’ll always see it play in Raoul’s eyes, no matter how sweet he is. Full, pink lips on my throat won’t matter… I’ll always feel Erik’s twisted, warped, sweet mouth there, everywhere.’
* * * * *
And the past went on, before the present, as it always would.
Swords crashed. They clanged, barely catching each other. They crashed again, this time just above Hase’s hair
Despite his skills at blocking the other weapon, the fight was pushing Hase backwards at a steady pace. Fear gives feet wings, but anger is the one that turns weapons into exigency.
Hase’s heel landed at the edge of the stairs.
Thanking every possible Deity he knew the name of that fencing wasn’t the only thing he’d learned in school, Hase grabbed the edge of the stair railing and slid down.
Without breaking step of seemed only an infuriated dance, Dante charged down after him.
Sidhe watched as the two disappeared down the stairs and ducked back into he room.
"What the hell am I going to do?" Sidhe thought desperately, not aware that he was speaking out loud. "Call the police—no, they’d never buy it. Call an ambulance— even if I call now it’ll be too late. How the hell am I going to explain? How the hell am I going to survive? What the hell am I going to do?"
His heart pounding at a dizzying speed he frantically looked around the room, and spied the stupidest thing he could think of, and prayed it would work.
* * * * *
‘I went back up to the world through the mirror, returning to work, returning to Meg, returning to Raoul.
I hummed a song Erik had played, I could only remember bits and pieces and forgot what went between them, thinking nothing of it because I daydreamed I be back with Erik. I would lie with my head on his lap and he’d play his music as if he were breathing life into a god.
Raoul strode up to me as the managers were escorting me away from the chorus line, spewing banter at me about a new job andng fng fast learners. The rest of the women were complaining that I had no clue what was going on.
"He’s your monster!"
"How could you not know!"
"Poor Christine, sweet girl. She must be hiding it, how he hurt her to get her to go into the darkness with him."
Raoul’s pale blue eyes burned at me, his tight blonde curls bounced around his beautiful face as he angrily came towards me.
"Why?" he yelled, wrenching me from the managers, who sped off in fear. Raoul looked as if he were about to cry. Or break something, probably my arm. "How would you? There were so many other men who wanted you. You could have gone with them. You could have married me. Why not me? I love you!"
"Raoul. It’s improper to tell you so bluntly that I do not want you."
"Marry me," he shouted, frenziedly. "Marry me. I can take you away, I can leave you here. I can make you life free of harm, free of murder, free of darkness and demons and ghosts. Dear god, the thought of you… you’re beautiful white skin, those lips, touched by a ghost, the dead… Why?"
"Raoul, please," I said, trying to pull him off my arm.

He just grabbed my other one, saying "Marry me!" again.

"I’m… I’m already engaged." I heard people gasp and scream behind me, just before silence and choking as an iron collar fell over me.
I was shaking now. I was shivering in fear. What would they do to me? What would they do to Erik, dear God, they found out. Why did they have to find out? Why take everyone away from me?
"To my teacher," I said.
"To that damned monster! You sold you’re soul for your voice! It was always beautiful, Christine! You sold yourself to a murderer! A monster!"
"I have to find Meg!" I said, to the very air, turning from him, and forcing my arms from his grasp. I ran into the ballet dressing room. "Megan!"
I ran so fast it was hard to stop, she just barely caught me before I hit her straight on. I could see tears in her eyes. She was at someone’s funeral waiting for them to die and arrive. "They found him!"
"Found who? Erik?"
She shook her head. "Some stage hand… I believe. They found him dead. Just before everyone left for Christmas, the managers got a letter from the phantom. They were going to fire you, but they got a threat about firing you. They ignored it until last night, when they found him dead. Everyone knows now. The managers promoted you, telling everyone The Phantom liked you."
"They’ll kill him!" I said. I can’t remember if I yelled it or whispered it. I took off for my dressing room. The only place I had any hope of being alone. Of hiding. Of thinking.
I knocked someone away, I stepped on a hand of someone who smelled and looked horribly like the streets, but I made it into my room.
Damn.
Damn me for running there. Damn him for waiting for me. Damn him for not trying to stop me, but grabbing my wrist so I pulled him into the room. Damn him for blocking the door.
Damn him for being him!
"Where is he? How does he find you?" Raoul asked, ominously calm. "Christine, if I have to tear down the opera house to it’s foundation to protect you, I will. Tell me, now, before they take you away from me and put you away somewhere lonely."
I remember blinking at him, saying nothing, hating him. I remember opening my eyes, but not thinking about what I did next. Nothing even close to a thought entered my head before I struck him.
I stared at him, not my burning palm.
"Damn you! Damn you to hell! I love him! I live him Raoul! They can take me wherever they want, I’ll never—"
He didn’t respond. He didn’t think before acting either. He was possessed by his heart, not his mind, just as I was as he grabbed the vase of flowers off the poor desk and aimed it at my head.
I remember having my mind back, just barely, as I ducked the vase. I can’t be blamed for what the vase hit, Meg told me, but I wish he’d struck me.
The vase crashed against the mirror.
Lightlessness replaced what was once beautiful, shining glass, and invisible door for me, an innocent wall for others.
I refused to admit it was all over. Not yet. Not now. I had a chance. I thought.
I grabbed the chair in front of the desk and swung it into Raoul’s head, face on. I didn’t manage to scar him.
I didn’t manage to care.
I grabbed my skirts and sprinted into the darkness, this would be the last time I’d ever see it again.
Those cursed stairs. No end. No other way.
"Erik!" I shouted, cursing my corset for being so tight. I needed my breath now. I need to shout so loud the ends of the earth could hear me. "Erik! Erik, run!"
I tripped on the latairtair. Shaking the rocks away, I got up and ran, hearing footsteps behind me.
"Erik! He found out! He knows!"
He was already outside. He was on the bridge, his sword was out. Run, Erik! Run!
"Erik, run, damnit!" I yelled, catching up to him. He held me. Oh, he held me and I loved it, and for too long I was lost in what it was like for him to hold me because I had been scared I’d never touch him again.
"I can’t," he said.
"Erik—"
"Not in the daylight. I might have a chance to flee unnoticed if everyone was after me, they would distract themselves, but I can’t flee now."
"Erik, I’m sorry," I said, weeping and holding him close.
"Get on the shore, Christine."
"Erik—"
"I don’t want you hurt. Wait, for one of us."
I could see Raoul now, charging after us, roaring angrily. I never thought a real person could make such a bestial noise. I left Erik. I stayed a few feet from the bridge on the shore, praying, hoping, watching, crying.
I’d have gotten him killed if I stayed with him. I’d have only hindered him.
They started fighting. Crashing their swords together, like titans, built for battle out of seafoam. The swords were part of them in a dream.
Only… the swords didn’t bleed.
I watched as they threw their entire bodies into the fight. I watched as they tore at each other with those giant, metallic claws.
The bridge shook. Raoul held the sword above his head with both hands just long enough to catch the faint candlelight coming from Erik’s house before bringing it down.
Erik spun, he managed to stab Raoul in the leg before catching the other side of the bridge as Raoul’s sword sliced the rope on his side.
Raoul, slipped, fell.
Erik, held on, waited, his sword out for an attack.
Raoul caught a piece of rope between the slick boards and pulled himself up.
Erik backed away, refusing to let go, lest he wind up in the freezing waters or at Raoul’s mercy.
Raoul pulled himself up. I wished I could throw well enough to hit him and make him lose his grip. I wished my skirts weren’t so long, I’d have a hand to hold on while stomping on his hand.
Raoul got up, took one hasty breath, and focused on Erik. He got up and charged, screaming something, every word of his cursing said at once, making a horrible, cruel wordless scream.
He was too fast, to block effectively, he was too big to dodge, his aim was wrong to knock the sword away. Erik backed away, slamming himself against his house, miraculously saving his life, if only forew mew minutes.
They stood there, not even breathing, swords locked in flesh. Erik’s arm held straight down, pointing his sword upwards as much as possible, the point embedded in Raoul’s stomach.
Raoul looked as if he was about to vomit, the sword through his stomach surprising him and knocking him off just enough to miss Erik’s heart and stab his shoulder. I heard the tip hit wood.’
- 6
- 7
- 8
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...My name