I know, I know, I know, but hey, I'm not dead! I've had loads to do and little time or will to write, plus my inspiration was on freezing point. This is the end of this phic, it was actually half-written months ago, but I never had the energy to finish it. I hope it's realistic and doesn't drag on. Kudos!

X X X

Chapter X

X X X X

It sounded as if an important wall of the house went crushing down on its own accord, but Christine, even in her sleepy and unaware state, knew better than the rest of the estate. Unable to escape her prison, she could only sit and wait for any kinds of hushed voices behind the door. And hasty steps came, and her door was flung open, two guards entering briskly. Without a word, the two soldiers seized her by the arms and raised her from her wooden chair, dragging her through the mansion to the main ball room, where she had spent the last moments of tranquil life, masquerading as a lady of rank and station. The room was crowded now, maidservants with brooms and sacks everywhere, a few valets organizing the cleaning up.

In the midst of this chaos stood the Comte de Chagny, with a deep frown on his slightly aging face, which deepened as he spotted Christine being led in. And once the sun outside resurfaced from behind the clouds, Christine finally saw what was wrong. The ground seemed to be covered with tiny diamonds, sparkling, and the metallic construction and candles in the middle of the ballroom showed that it was in fact so.

The giant chandelier, a pride of the estate, that hung from the ceiling perhaps moments before, was now lying unceremoniously on the ground, shattered to a zillion pieces. It was fortunate that no one had been hit by it, otherwise they would have certainly gotten killed. However, the expression n the Comte´s face signified that if it would have saved the expensive chandelier, he wouldn't give a damn as to who would get killed.

Within the next few moments, Christine, despite her shock, was able to deduce what had happened.

"It's him." She whispered, looking at the fragments of glass, as if it were obvious to her.

The moment she reached down to touch or pick up a piece of the shattered chandelier, a majordomos entered the room, leading in a priest and a few black-clad women, clearly nuns. The one that seemed eldest was clearly the Mother Superior the Comte had mentioned to her earlier, but she, like the other nuns, didn't seem to be as approving and as benevolent as the Comte had described them. It seemed they looked at Christine as if they were looking at a pile of dung, which, in her mind, was somewhat unfounded. Held captive she might be, but she was quite clean and her dress was properly put on. Even her hair was clipped correctly.

After the Comte bowed to the priest and the nuns, the situation was explained to them. Apparently, the chambermaids were cleaning to room when suddenly, the gigantic chandelier dropped on its own accord, for no particular reason. The servants had already inspected it and there seemed really no reason why it misplaced its equilibrium all of a sudden. The servants were muttering among themselves now, edging away from Christine.

"This is the girl I have been telling you about." The Comte continued, still calmly. "We believe she is or, at the very least, was possessed by the Devil, who made her attempt to bring evil to our household. We have kept her in isolation for the past few days, hoping that you would counsel us and hopefully rid her body of the evil spirit. The incident that occurred today shows, in my opinion, that the demon is struggling to regain his control of her."

"The Devil is a cunning being, Monsieur le Comte, but as merciless to his own servants as he is to us." The Mother Superior said, the nuns and the priest nodding. She turned her attention to Christine, studying her face and the visible parts of her skin carefully, clearly searching for any marks or markings. "If this is the first time the possession occurred, we may be able to do something for the girl."

"You said your brother has been jinxed by this woman, made to fall in love with her - or rather, to be infatuated with her - and run away. Has the hex lifted, now that he is out of her reach, or at least lessened?" the priest inquired.

"I have locked him in his room for the time being, but he is proving difficult." The Comte said with a deep sigh. "I won't lie to you, Father, I am afraid for his health. I know he is young and rash, but I had hoped that in time, he would have understood that I know better than he does what woman he should marry now, due to that youth that clouds his vision on the long run. But this is too… unnatural."

Frowning, the priest took a step towards Christine, carefully examining her face. after a minute, he proclaimed: "A troubling situation, this is. Those who fight off the devil are in more danger than those possessed and those that surround them need to trust in the Lord and not be tempted themselves."

"Child," the Mother Superior addressed Christine directly this time. "you are supposedly to be under the influence of the Devil. What did he promise you to make you fall into his service?"

But Christine remained silent. She understood why they assumed she was in league with the Devil, but she couldn't understand why she was to play the role of the possessed. No demon, lost soul or spirit had claimed her body of mind. The former was depending on the latter, and the latter had long-since been claimed by one she knew was no mystical force. And she knew he was close. Somehow, the eerie sensation of his presence, whether it was her imagination or not, lingered.

"She isn't a mute, I take it?" the priest asked. The Comte shook his head. "It might be that we come too late… that the Demon has already exacted his revenge on the girl."

"Speak, child." The Mother Superior said, "We must see that there is yet hope for you before agreeing to accept you among us."

But the other two nuns seemed to find the fact that Christine was supposed to be possessed frightening, if not outright terrifying. They whispered prayers to each other and crossed themselves when Christine gave them a blank look. How strange that she be the one to realize that the wheels of fortune had been set in motion and that nothing said or done here would change it.

She realized, finally, that Raoul would never be free to be with her. It had been a dream squashed by circumstances. Death was the only alternative. She saw it in the face of the two nuns, slowly, in the priest's as well, who seemed to begin to believe that Raoul would still be under the indirect influence of the aftermath of the "enchantment" and in those of the Comte as well, who was, in a way, blameless – he simply wanted his brother to be happy. But in a proper marriage to a properly rich lady.

There was no hope.

"Perhaps we are too late." the priest said, slightly uneasily. "She may have had her soul taken away by the Beast already. If the soul was sent down into the depths of Hell, justly or not, it will be much too easy for a demon to take possession of the body."

But Christine would not speak, no matter how they prodded. The convent… she wouldn't find any peace there. He would follow her until the end of the world. Not even the so-called holy walls would be able to keep him away. And, feeling a wave of resignation pass through her, engulf her, she accepted that. Somehow, suddenly, she understood that even if she wanted to return to the life she had led previously, there was no way to do so. Existence without Raoul, she could survive, because she now understood that that existence had been taken out of her reach the moment they had been caught. Now, she had nothing left… save for him.

Subconsciously, she acknowledged that the Comte and his holy companions were arguing about her fate. The priest seemed to have come to the solution that she was to be burned, like the witch she was, and perhaps then the demon would be driven out of her body and her soul would find salvation. The Mother Superior was shocked, but Christine saw that she seemed to have thought of such a solution as well. As for the Comte, he looked doubtful of such practices and certainly unwilling to execute her in such a violent manner, no matter what her faults.

As if their choice mattered.

X X X

Of course he had been watching the entire proceedings; from the moment the chandelier crashed to the second Christine seemed to have lost focus or the will to defend herself. But it had been the only way to give her a chance to escape her prison. And the longer and closer he watched her, the more he noticed the sudden change in her. Ever since she had understood that he had been telling her the truth, she seemed to have lost a certain spark. Ah, young love – and a forbidden one at that. For once, he was more than glad that de Chagny was an aristocrat.

And the young man was nowhere in sight, even as Christine's hands were bound, even as she was forced to watch as a stake was prepared for the burning, for the priest insisted that it had to be done instantly, to prevent the demon from creating another plan and perhaps slipping into the body of another innocent, which would render their exorcism useless. The poor fools; they had no idea that there was only one demon in their house, one who had no desire for anyone but Christine and that demon would certainly not stand for the burning of the only creature who had shown the clemency of viewing him as a human being. Angels belonged in heaven, but they shouldn't be sent there through the fire.

Mere hours later, a white-clad Christine, though her dress shared nothing with a bridal gown save the color, was led to the stake and tied to it. She didn't resist at all. Some of the servants looked sad and a black-haired girl that he knew to be Christine's friend was crying and protesting that Christine was innocent. To no avail, of course. But he would grant the girl the wish to free Christine. Slowly, unseen by anyone, he moved to where Christine was being kept. The skills he had unwillingly gained during his years of reclusive life had proved very useful that day.

Christine… she heard the voice in her head, knowing it wasn't her own. He was here. Eyes widening slightly, Christine looked around to see where he was, but couldn't see him. What was he planning? She prayed to God that he wouldn't slaughter everyone present, though she knew that if circumstances would force him into doing it, he wouldn't hesitate.

Just as the priest finished his speech about hoping that her soul would reach the heavens, if it was still pure, a high-pitched scream rang through the estate. Sorelli, the head chambermaid, came running out of the building, almost shrieking her head off.

"The Vicomte is dead!" she screamed, "The Vicomte has killed himself!" Sobbing, she almost collapsed as some of the servants rushed into the building, only to bring confirmation to what she was saying. A rope, a letter… and a body that was now covered in a blanket. Momentarily, Christine was forgotten and everyone rushed to the body, the Comte and the priest first among them.

The Comte de Chagny took the letter intended for him with trembling hands and carefully read it. The ink was fresh, the writing shaky, and the words sincere. Raoul had written that before hanging himself. It was a confession that he loved Christine, but that she was innocent of any crime they accused her of, that it had been his own choice to convince her to flee, and that, if he couldn't be with her in life, he would be with her in heaven.

Forgive me, brother, the letter said, for I am guilty of the greatest sin in this sad, grey world – of love.

Grief and hatred spread through the Comte´s mind… but before he could even think of finally agreeing to the burning of Christine, several women screamed. The stake was alit with flames; the hay that had been placed around it was spitting sparks. Servants rushed to fetch water, as the Comte made no motion to stop them. He simply stared into the flames, ignoring the priest, who was shouting about devils and demons and God only knew what else, and the nuns that were crossing themselves wildly. All that he understood was that his brother had chosen death over life. If it was Christine's fault, then damn her to hell, but he had no way of finding out what was the truth now. All he could do was help put out the fire and hope that God wasn't punishing him without reason.

X X X

She woke up.

Had it been minutes, hours, days? She didn't remember. Fire… she remembered it. It had blinded her and sometime later, she had fainted. But otherwise, she had no idea where she was, though she filled out the blanks within moments. She was still dressed in the white rags they were to burn her in, but there was another stunning dress and accessories lying on the seat next to her.

Her face had been washed, she realized as she looked through the window. It was night, as black as the carriage she was in, and she was probably safe. They stopped in a few hours, during which she tried to remember what had happened after she had fainted. This wasn't afterlife, certainly. Neither heaven nor hell gave presents to their occupants. The carriage slowed down, entering what seemed to be the ruins of a medieval castle. Christine only vaguely realized that a few months ago, she would have been terrified of it. Right now, she didn't really give it much thought.

The door on her left opened and she accepted the offered hand without hesitation. There stood Erik – no one else would have been dressed in black from head to toe and still regarding her with an admiration that bordered with obsession. The irony of fate was that she was glad to see him. Right now, he was the only certainty in her life and there was no guarantee that her mind could handle much more of the cruelty of the world before cracking. Though he tensed immediately when she almost hurled herself at him, her hands locking around him like manacles, he couldn't disguise the slight satisfaction that he obviously felt.

Christine said nothing, because there was nothing to be said. Words would only complicate matters. But what she wanted to express was obvious. There was no other path than the one leading into darkness. And it had never seemed as safe as it did after what she had witnessed in the light. There would be fear, sacrifices, dangers. Perhaps even deaths. Moments when one of them might question their own sanity. But after that which had almost transpired, there would certainly never be the point when they would break. After all, neither had anything but the other now. She wouldn't survive otherwise. And, though for different reasons, he probably wouldn't, either.

Bound in life, by death, through music.