To Those Without Pity

"We turned at a dozen paces, for love is a duel, and looked up at each other for the last time." -Jack Kerouac

I thought I would die that night.

I would tell you how it all started, but I don't believe I could pinpoint a definitive moment. All I know is that my youth passed in a dream, and somewhere between deception and bliss, I surrendered my mind to an angel. I could tell you about my dalliance, as Erik would call it, with Raoul; yet in truth I cannot, for I've resolved not to think about such things, lest they break my heart. I could tell you about my father's death, but even that seems remote and somehow unimportant, God rest his soul. I could recount my relationships with Meg and Madame Giry and the countless others, but they had no bearing on how that night transpired.

Erik was the catalyst.

I could no longer keep track of the bewildering web of deception and deceit that had plagued our lives over the past months, but I could see how it was escalating. Erik was no longer my angel, and I had begun telling lie after lie in order to keep my relationship with Raoul a secret. As I look back, I have no doubt that he knew everything that was occurring. Nevertheless, he allowed me to delude myself, letting me believe that I somehow had the upper hand. As if I could truly outsmart him.

I digress. The real heart of the night was Erik's masterpiece, Don Juan Triumphant. I had spent what felt like an eternity working on the inhumanly difficult score, all the while plotting my mentor's demise. With every meeting I had with Erik, even on the night of the performance, I feared he would confront me. I feared for my life, yet he never said a word.

I was in a trance as I prepared for opening night, and my mind was filled with what the evening would hold. I remember thinking that a mere twelve hours from then, my teacher would be nothing but a memory, and I would be travelling as far from Paris as I could with my fiancée. I wanted the thought to comfort me, but it just terrified me more. And not for fear of failure.

My reverie did not cease as I went on stage, and I seemed to watch myself from afar as I went through the motions of the scene. I did not feel the knob of the onstage door as I turned it, and I could not feel the stage beneath my feet as I walked. That is, until I heard his voice resounding across the stage. I thought at first that I was imagining it, and that the fog that enveloped me was playing tricks on my ears. But when I saw his figure, I knew that it was indeed Erik. Nobody else in the world moved like him; nobody's hands held so much fluidity.

Suddenly, everything sharpened. I became hypersensitive as I felt his hand touch my neck, and I could feel not only my heartbeat, but his too. We sang, and yet as I looked in his eyes, I could hear his very thoughts. I know the truth, he seemed to say. I know what you've done. I know what you're planning. Yet his signature temper wasn't evident in those eyes. I could feel the curiosity that laced my own features as I examined him, trying to read into the future and understand a man who could never be understood. Whether it was a flicker in his eye or an imperceptible squeeze of his hand, I remember the precise moment when I knew he was planning something out of my control. Regret plagues me as I think of those moments, and I can't fathom what motivated me to do what I did.

Panic was not what motivated my decision to strip him of his mask for all to see; it was a moment of stoic resolution. Little did I know that this action would seal my fate and the fates of those I loved so irrevocably. Almost immediately, the stage went black and I was falling. My first instinct was to cling to Erik, but he was already holding me securely. We fell into something soft, but it didn't stop my knees from buckling painfully, nor did it stop my body from lurching forward as I collapsed to my hands and knees. It was still dark, but he somehow pulled me up roughly and began to drag me through a passageway I could not see.

I did not plead as we trekked through the dank earth, nor did he speak. There was no reprimanding or condemning of my actions, though I could feel the sense of betrayal in his fingers as he clutched my arm. The only words I heard from him echoed against the stone walls as I tripped on the hem of my dress and fell forward, tearing open the palm of my hands on the rocky ground. I gave out a small cry of pain, but all I heard were his livid mutters as he called me a silly girl before he yanked me back into a standing position.

Light finally came when we reached the familiar shore of the underground lake. I did not need coercing to get into the boat, and he followed me silently and began to push us slowly across the still water. As I sat in that boat, my mind began to travel back to the opera—to the audience, and to Raoul, and to all of those policemen who were waiting to capture the elusive Opera Ghost. And then my mind wandered to what exactly was going to happen when we reached Erik's home. Surely he could not be planning to stay long for fear that they would find him. Unless we weren't meant to leave his home alive.

Thoughts raced as I recalled the people he had killed and the lives he had jeopardized since I knew him. His fury blinded him, and alarm coursed through my body as I speculated what he had in store. My pleas would fall on deaf ears if his wrath was heightened enough—after all, how could I forget the day I had torn his mask away in the privacy of his home. How would he punish me for what I had just subjected him to?

"Should I drown myself?" I said suddenly before I knew what I was doing. I was surprised at the steadiness of my own voice, but I did everything I could not to show it.

"Why would you say something like that?" he asked simply, inquisitiveness evident in his tone.

"What are you planning on doing to me?" My voice faltered momentarily, but I swallowed and tried to ignore my apprehension. I was not ready to face death, and he knew it.

"I haven't a clue what you mean," he said, his characteristic cynicism seeping into his demeanor.

"Erik, please," I begged suddenly, turning abruptly to look back at him. I had forgotten that he no longer had his mask on, and I tried to quell my revulsion. If he was going to respond, he chose not to when he read the disgust that I was trying to conceal.

"Think of the consequences of a rash decision," I beseeched him, but the resentment that flashed in his eyes made it clear that these were not the right words.

"The consequences! I don't think you have the right to tell me of consequences."

We had reached the shore, and he dropped the pole into water as he pulled me out of the boat. I craned my neck to watch the pole sink into the lake and my stomach lurched painfully. He was not planning on crossing the lake ever again…

"Erik, I'm sorry," I murmured as I felt tears prick my eyes.

He did not seem to hear, though, as he pulled me by my wrist into his home. He was bent on some unknown goal, and waves of terror rushed over me as I wracked my brain for what it might be. An unrestrained sob escaped my lips when he slammed the front door behind us, and yet he still wouldn't look back at me.

"Please look at me! Please listen—…" I began, and he finally let go of me and spun around, venom written in every inch of his face.

"You have no right to make demands of me! You, who have lied to me and betrayed me! I owe you no cordialities and no niceties. I will treat you like the false little girl you are!" he roared, his body looming over my own as I struggled not to collapse in fear.

"You tricked me all of my childhood, Erik. You cannot accuse me of deceit when you—…" I stuttered, forcing my eyes to meet is, no matter how fiercely they flashed.

"I can accuse you of whatever I want," he countered in a declaration of indifference, squaring his shoulders as he looked down at me, menacing as ever. "After all, it appears I have the upper hand here. As always."

"What are you going to do to me?" I repeated, my breath caught high in my throat as I stared wide-eyed at him.

For a moment, I thought I saw his eyes soften. "I would never hurt you, my dear," he began, and I felt the breath drain out of me in some semblance of relief. That was, until his eyes focused behind me on the door, the muscles under his eyes tightening in vehemence. "Your young man, on the other hand…"

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion until a few seconds later when I heard the doorknob turn forcibly. My heart jumped in sorrow and I turned just in time to see Raoul throw the door open. He was drenched in water—I can only imagine that he swam across the lake—and his face had distressed fortitude written on it.

"Christine, thank God," he breathed through his gasps for air.

"Raoul!" I cried out, and without thinking I began to run towards him until I saw his eyes move to the figure behind me in utter dread. I turned and felt my heart stop as I saw Erik with his arm extended, a gun poised in his hand.

My first thoughts upon seeing this still puzzle me. I couldn't help but think that this was not Erik's way—that he would never deliver death with such a crude weapon. But as soon as the thought crossed my mind, I realized the gravity of what was before me. Death was going to be delivered, and what difference did the weapon really make? And who was I to say that I knew Erik? I knew what he wanted me to know, and who was I to call that the truth?

Before I could think more about it, I felt Raoul's body move roughly in front of mine. I tried to protest, but he stood firmly and kept his eyes unblinkingly on the barrel a few feet away.

"So the lovers shall die together?" Erik mused, and my eyes moved to Raoul as tears began rolling unnoticed down my cheeks.

I studied him in those moments, memorizing his features. He began to speak to Erik fiercely, but my ears did not receive the words. It struck me in that moment just how selfless this man in front of me was, and how much I loved him. It was a different love than I felt for Erik, for I did love Erik too, but something in Raoul's heroism hit me. This was a man who could not die tonight—he was such an innately good person, and God knew the world needed another good person. And yet if I did nothing, Erik would kill him. I could see it in his gruesome face as he spat insults back at Raoul.

Without knowing what I was doing, I felt my feet begin to move my body in the gun's way. Both the men stopped talking, and Raoul grabbed my arm to stop me. I wrenched it out of his grasp, though, and met Erik's eyes with as much braveness as I could muster.

"Put the gun away. I will stay." It was a murmur of complacency. I ignored Raoul's sound of protest, and searched in Erik's eyes for some acquiescence. They remained as hard as ever, though, and my uneasiness mounted.

"You selfish girl. You think your infidelity can be so easily erased? No, it is too late for apologies and promises." He cocked the gun, and my mouth went dry as I felt movement behind me. "Come closer and I'll shoot." Raoul stopped dead, but I wouldn't look back.

As I maintained eye contact with Erik, I tried to remind myself over and over that he wouldn't harm me. He loved me, and I knew that. It would kill him if I died. Nevertheless, a nagging voice in the back of mind pointed out that death might not be such a punishment for him now, but I pushed the thought aside.

I closed the gap between Erik and me, wincing as I got nearer and nearer to the barrel before finally moving past it. "I will stay with you forever. Please." The serenity in my voice shocked me, for my heart was beating at an absurd speed. Raoul made a sound behind me, but I couldn't bear to react to it. And so, with a sense of finality, I lifted a hand to his marred cheek and let my lips gently touch his.

Time stopped in that moment. Pleasure and regret encompassed me wholly, and there was no escaping the cold and thrilling reality that stood before me. But then again, perhaps I say that now with full knowledge of what happened next.

When I heard the shot, I thought that I was dead. My whole body stopped for longer than should be possible, and my mind went blank. It wasn't until I heard the body drop behind me that I opened my eyes, only to see Erik's eyes, already so close, trained on me. There was no apology in that gaze, but rather a sense of dull finality. I truly didn't believe it was true until I turned around and saw Raoul's body lying on the ground, blood seeping from the bullet wound directly over his heart. In an instant, the most inhuman cry came out of my mouth as my body collapsed to the ground in utter grief.

I felt his hand grab my arm as I tried to crawl towards the body, but I yanked it away with strength that I did not know I had. I could feel Erik watching me as I tentatively touched Raoul's face and searched his eyes for life that no longer existed. I felt Eternity in those moments as I gaped dumbly into death's face, not knowing how time could ever go on.

"Get up, Christine," Erik's voice echoed with invulnerable solemnity behind me, but I did not move from Raoul's side. I could not possibly abandon this former being that I loved with all my senses.

"Come. It's time to keep your promise." When he dragged me to my feet, the words I had uttered came back to my mind. I will stay. I will stay with you forever.

I wish I had died that night.

I am so happy to be writing another Phantom story, and I hope you enjoyed the first installment. The story will be most heavily influenced by Susan Kay's Phantom, but it is not necessary to have read it to understand the story. Please let me know what you think, and thanks so much for reading!

Until next time,

Christine