The Phantom's Lullaby c3 (Demons)

[gallifreyireland]

The Phantom's Lullaby Chapter 3- Demons

synopsis: "With his past, how could the future be any less than agonizing? And yet, she had kissed him. Twice. In that moment, it had almost seemed like she wanted to stay..." Alternate ending to ALW's PoTO, but with references to Susan Kay's Phantom. E/C
disclaimer: I don't own Phantom of the Opera or its characters. Nor do I own any songs quoted in this fic.
in this chapter: Erik has an epiphany, Raoul is desperate, the Girys make an appearance, Christine is surprised. Once again, lyrics from the song “Lullaby” by Emmy Rossum are used.

Demons

All throughout their small breakfast, Erik was dreading bringing up his plans for the day.

They had been discussing the merits of the cello vs. the violin; with Christine opining that while the violin’s bright tone was beautiful, it simply couldn’t surpass the cello’s warm, emotional timbre.

“Although…I do love the violin as well. I’ll never forget the sound of my father playing late at night when he thought I was asleep.” Erik almost suggested that she only preferred the cello now because its sound was so similar to his voice, but that might have been wishful thinking on his part.

Everything was so calm and serene in this house, the world and its troubles seemed so very far away with Christine smiling and talking with him. Just ordinary chitchat about trivial matters. It was heavenly.
 But it wasn’t meant to last. If Christine sincerely wanted to marry him (as she had insisted several times throughout the morning), there were things that would have to be taken care of first. Not the least of which would be finding a priest willing to marry them. He allowed his mind to wander, no longer as absorbed in whatever subject Christine had moved onto.

With a sigh, he finally opened his mouth to explain his musings.

“Christine--”

“Is everything all right, Erik? You’re pacing again.”

Am I? He forced himself to stop and breathe. Usually being interrupted was a great annoyance to him, but hearing her speak his name in that caressing tone again…

His mouth briefly twitched into a grin until the delicacy of the subject before him sobered his features once more.

“Yes, Christine. Everything is fine. There is just something I would like to discuss with you...”

Her raised eyebrows and captive expression told him to get on with it before he chickened out.

“I need to go back to the Opera.”

Surprise. Concern. Hurt. These emotions and others he couldn’t identify passed over her features, before she settled on confusion.

“But…why?” There was a slight tremor in her voice.

Ah…I should have said that differently. He hurried to correct the misunderstanding.

“I’m not leaving you, at least not in the way you are afraid of. I just need to visit my lair and retrieve some of my belongings.” When they had left, he hadn’t been expecting to be in Christine’s presence for very long, much less in Paris. He grudgingly admitted to himself that having Christine willingly come back to him had muffled his normally-racing mind.

He had been planning on leaving everything behind, hoping time and distance would wash that portion of his existence from memory.

Of course, fate was a tricky thing. It had messed with his entire life and now seemed bent on allowing him this happiness. All of those years of isolation and bitterness… he wasn’t used to such good fortune. But if this was to be his lot, he would not squander it.

One may tolerate a world of demons for the sake of an angel.

XxxX

Her heart had regained its normal rhythm, but Christine was still worried about Erik’s plan to revisit the smoldering remains of the Opera House.

“What of the gendarmes? They will surely be on the lookout. Not to mention the building could collapse and crush you inside! And what about…” Her face went white.

“The Vicomte?” Erik finished with a sneer. His face was suddenly dark.

Raoul. How did she forget him so quickly? Her childhood friend who braved the rough waters in Perros to fetch her scarf…It seemed a lifetime ago. She didn’t feel anything for him except a loss of friendship. Her mind finally understood what true love felt like.

“Well, yes. I left rather abruptly with no real explanation. He will still be trying to find us, I know it.” She bit her lip and fidgeted in her seat. We were having such a nice conversation…how does Raoul continue to get between us like this?

“I would assume that your former suitor thinks us long gone by now. And why shouldn’t he? Fleeing usually implies a leaving of the country.” He had returned to his previous tone: no barely concealed anger, just a stating of the facts. “And he knows me as the Phantom- all but invisible. Really, if I had tried, we could have been in Italy by now!” He chuckled and the slight tension in the air dissipated.

Christine smiled, glad that his good humor had returned. “Well…alright. You won’t be gone long, will you? It makes me anxious when you are not here with me.”

Erik joined her on the settee and wrapped his long arms around her. She felt safe in his arms. Something she hadn’t really experienced since childhood, with her father.

Has Erik always been this…solid? Christine found herself preoccupied with the feeling of his body so close to her. He was always tall and thin, but is that…muscle? Her cheeks burned as she thought of why he would have wanted to make himself stronger.

For me. He wanted to be strong so that I would find him attractive. He must have been subconsciously competing with Raoul long before their open rivalry began. She almost asked him about this, but decided better of it.

He continued on, unaware of her musings.

“I’ll be fine Christine. I promise to be careful and hurry back. I just want to get my music and perhaps a change of clothes. And if he hasn’t run off, I’ll bring Cesar. He’ll be invaluable. I don’t know how I managed to forget him…” He trailed off and glanced down at her with an unreadable emotion on his face.

Christine had a sneaking suspicion that she was the reason for his forgetfulness. She looked away again, embarrassed but slightly proud that her very presence had such an effect on him.

He cleared his throat and continued. “Was there anything you wanted me to get for you? Something might have survived the fire…I can check your old dressing room if you like?”

My old room…she  imagined the rosy walls and the lovely old dressing table, the large mirror where she had seem her angel for the first time- when she still hadn’t realized that he was a mortal man. She honestly thought the Angel of Music had simply projected an image of himself on her mirror. But then it had opened, and her whole life had changed.

“There’s not much, really. Just my hairbrush. It belonged to my mother…it’s the only thing I have of her.”

Erik’s voice softened in response to her shift in mood. “Of course.”

She suddenly gasped. “My father’s picture! It was in the chapel. It was probably safe from the fire there.” Her eyes were bright, happy that she would have a piece of both her parents when she started her new life.

The emotion in his voice when he replied was evident.

“I’ll find it, I promise.”

XxxX

Erik felt awful. Even as he bade goodbye to his beautiful companion, promising a swift return, his heart broke for everything he had done to her. Before he left he had forced a smile and kissed her forehead, then disappeared into the forest before she could see the darkness swirling in his eyes.

As he jogged back toward town, dodging trees and trying to keep as silent as possible, he let his mind wander through the past.

At first, his intentions had been innocent. Noble, even. He had heard her cries in the small Opera chapel, calling out to her “Papa” and someone called the “Angel of Music”, and for the first time in years he felt something. A stirring deep inside him. Pity, compassion, caring for another human being. Not really something he had ever expected to feel.

So he had reached out to the poor child. Became the Angel she wished for and helped her to find her voice, her calling.

But even that had been selfish, he now realized.

He had lied to her. Claimed to be an angel when he was anything but. Pushed her to become a singer, taken her sweet voice into his soul and made it a part of him. He had become enthralled by its beauty, enchanted at the music that this young girl brought into his life. She had given him a purpose again and become the only inspiration for his music.

And then she had grown up.

He tried to ignore it. Told himself he was just imagining it. Hoped that it would pass…

But no, the wonderful child who filled his life with music and laughter had become a young woman whose every word was like a breath a fresh air in his stifling life. Every moment he spent with her made his heart swell and filled him with hope for an impossible future.

And he slowly became captive to her, losing all semblance of sanity in his desire to be everything in her life.

Became jealous, possessive, controlling, and if it were possible, more impulsive than ever before.

And after everything, when he finally realized what he had become and let her go, it was too late. He had burned her home to the ground, along with its memories and the only life she had ever known.

He wasn’t a monster, he was a demon. Those gypsies were right- he truly was the Devil’s child.

The trees gave way to buildings and streets as he reached the outskirts of Paris. He returned to the alleys and did what he did best- vanish.

XxxX

Meg Giry heard a knock at the door.

“I’ll see who it is, Mama.”

“Thank you, dear. If you need me I’m in the kitchen.”

Meg had a feeling she knew who was waiting behind the door, and she wasn’t too happy to see him again. The man had been pestering her mother for days.

With a sigh, she opened the door and stared blankly at the man before her. “Vicomte.”

“Hello again, Mademoiselle. May I speak with your mother?”  Raoul de Chagny’s calm tone was betrayed by his slightly unkempt hair and the wild look in his eyes. But a man of his upbringing would never allow his distress to affect his manners. They had been ground into him from a young age, she knew.

Meg had a strong urge to shut the door in his face, but that would be an unbelievable breach of courtesy. Her mother would scold her for being rude and insist she pay the Vicomte a visit to apologize. It wasn’t a good idea to be on bad terms with an influential family like Raoul’s.

Besides, she didn’t really hate him. Quite the opposite, in fact. She thought he was very polite and handsome. It was just her loyalty to Christine that caused her resentment. She had known from the beginning that Christine was in love with her tutor. Even when she had thought Christine mad for believing in the Angel of Music, there was no denying the connection she seemed to have with him. And Raoul’s involvement only increased the stress around the Opera House, for the Phantom’s mood affected every part of the performances.

“I’ll see if she’s available.” She motioned toward the sitting room. De Chagny nodded in thanks and went to take his seat.

Her mother spoke before she had even fully entered the kitchen.

“It’s that boy again, isn’t it?”

“Of course. I don’t think he can stand to sit at home with his smug older brother. From what I’ve heard, Phillipe has an extreme case of the ‘I-told-you-so’s.” Meg rolled her eyes.

“Well, that attitude certainly won’t help anyone. I’ll go see what he wants this time.”

XxxX

Erik had reached the Opera without incident, finding his way inside the same way he had left with Christine.

His first venture was upstairs to his protégé’s dressing room. To his surprise and delight, the room had been barely touched by the flames’ destruction. The walls around the door were warped and blackened, but otherwise it seemed untouched. He quickly found the brush in the drawer of Christine’s vanity. It handle was worn with age and use, the paint barely visible. But there was no denying the subtle grace of its design. It was carved from a single piece of thick wood, engraved and decorated simply but beautifully. Perfect for his Christine. He placed it carefully inside the sack he had brought and decided to check the armoire for any dresses still intact.

His next stop was the Opera chapel downstairs. He wasn’t surprised to find it in perfect condition. The stone walls were all but invincible against the heat and flames.

He knelt beside the small altar Christine had made for her father, feeling a sudden reverence for the man. The similarities were obvious- the same dark eyes and hair, a slight smirk playing about his mouth in the photograph. Erik smiled when he thought of the love Christine had for this man. He knew she missed him terribly, and that her childhood with him had been precious to her.

“Gustave Daaé…what would you think if you could see her now?” He was feeling quite sentimental for a man he had never met. Erik respected him greatly, for he had brought Christine up with love, happiness, and music. Setting her up for success so early in her life, laying the foundation for the great triumph her voice became…

Once again Erik was assaulted with guilt. He had poisoned the gift Gustave had given Christine. She had loved to sing with her Papa, that much he knew from her stories. But that had been casual, a shared love for music, something special between father and daughter. Nothing forced upon her, no pressure to become some great diva.

His vision blurred as his eyes filled with moisture, the drops there threatening to fall in torrents unless he could hold them back.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” He didn’t know if he was apologizing to Gustave, Christine, the Girys, even Raoul, or the world in general. He was simply overwhelmed with everything  he had done wrong in his life. The regret for those wasted years of running, killing, ruining lives…what kind of man was he?

No twisted face was excuse enough for that. Christine was right earlier, his very soul was distorted.

He had collapsed to the hard floor, the cold stone freezing the tears against his face as he sobbed. Never before had he felt so much remorse and crushing grief…

When your heart's too sore to beat, and you fear it might never heal,
 and you feel not even beggars want you……I do.

And then, somehow it started to lighten.

Close your eyes, don’t you cry, let the sorrow within you subside…

The memory of those words gave him a small glimmer of hope.

Don’t despair, have no fear…

Somehow Christine had been able to forgive him. It was completely baffling, an utter mystery that she would be able to do that after what he put her through.

Maybe she saw something in him…

What is that?! Erik heard a voice…or maybe he felt it. It was quiet, but it was there.

“She loves you, you ridiculous, foolheaded, man. Just how thick are you? She loves you, she really does. Despite your past, despite your face, despite society’s prejudices…despite everything.
 Against all the odds.

Christine has a very big heart; she is capable of so much love and forgiveness. That is just who she is. I wish I could say I had a part in that, but I wasn’t always there for her…maybe you had a small part in that. Regardless, she has grown into a strong and beautiful young woman, and I’m so proud of her.

And no matter what you think of yourself…you’ve proven yourself worthy in Christine’s eyes. And I would be remiss if I didn’t appreciate how happy you’ve made her…”

Gustave?! This is madness…my mind is playing tricks on me again. Even if it was an illusion, the voice of Christine’s lost father, Erik didn’t mind it. The words calmed him instantly.

“Be at peace, Erik. Don’t let your past ruin your future. Take care of her, cherish her,
 and never take her for granted, my son…”

The words faded into nothing and Erik was left with a rush of warmth, acceptance, love, and forgiveness. He wasn’t sure where it came from, but his soul finally felt a release from everything that had been holding it down, chaining it to guilt and bitterness. He felt lighter, like he could float right through the floors of the Opera House above him, right into the clouds. He felt like laughing, the joy was so great.

He was free.

He finally realized that the past couldn’t hold him any longer. He needed to let it go if he wanted to move on with his life. And really, he wasn’t that man any more. Christine had healed the resentment and anger inside him with her love, and now he had the approval of her father…?

He picked himself off the floor, retrieving the photograph of Gustave Daaé, and turned to go to the cellars of the Opera House.  He still wasn’t quite sure what had just happened…but he was never more ready to begin his new life with Christine.

Even as the shadows of the tunnel swallowed him up, he couldn’t keep the smile off of his face.

XxxX

The sound of footsteps outside made her jump up from her perch on the settee and fly to the door. In her excitement, she didn’t even check who it was approaching before flinging open the door; much to the surprise of the man whose hand was raised to knock.

It was not Erik.

The surprise on the man’s face changed to delight when he saw who had opened the door.

“Ah, it seems Madame Giry was correct after all. Good afternoon…”


Chapter 4---->