I haven't updated this in FOREVER! I know, I'm sorry, I'm horrible, don't remind me. I don't know how up I'll keep this story, but I promise I'm not abandoning it. I'll try to update sooner next time.
Anyway, some of you may not remember the last few chapters, because it has been FOREVER. So I'll remind you. Once upon a time, Christine came to live at the opera house. She knew Erik through notes and singing lessons, but has never ever seen him. She gets kidnapped, if you haven't guessed by now, by the Shah of Persia. Erik comes to save her, but ends up getting trapped as well. The Shah hurts Christine, in turn hurting Erik. Got it? Good. Any questions, PM me or reread.
On with the show
I held Christine's crying shaking form in my arms. What happened to her was entirely my fault. I shouldn't have let this happen. She didn't deserve anything that that horrid man did to her.
I kept telling her it was okay and that we would get out, but I knew those were only empty words. There was no telling if we would. The Shah is a clever man. Cruel indeed, but he has more of a brain than most I've seen in my days. He would know my tricks, but I would also know his tricks. Quickly, Christine's cries dulled to whimpers and then stopped altogether when she fell asleep.
Gently, and careful not to touch her marred back, I turned her over so that I could see the extent of her wounds. The first few had been less harsh than the last, leaving an angry red marks across her back. The last had been hard, and in quick succession, leaving behind a gash down her back that would heal, but likely leave a scar. Gritting my teeth against the anger that her damaged back inflicted, I started to remove the top of Christine's dress. My cheeks burned as I pulled it away completely and I was sure to avoid looking at her front to save her any embarrassment later. Pulling off my cloak, I tore a large piece away and wrapped it around her torso, serving it as a bandage as well as a cover for now.
Tossing the bloodied, torn material of her dress aside, I pulled Christine to me so that she no longer lay on the cold floor. After brushing a few strands of hair away, I could see her face. The corners of her lips were set slightly upward and I absently wondered what she was dreaming about. Her eyes fluttered under their lids as she dreamed and she sighed. I couldn't help but chuckle a bit when she did.
Hours later, Christine's eyes fluttered open. She gasped and struggled to get off of my lap, fear present in her eyes. I held her so that she wouldn't hurt her back again. "Christine it's me." I whispered soothingly. Her eyes flashed up to my face and her body relaxed.
"I thought it was someone else." She looked down and saw what she wore. Her face turned to a bright pink. She pulled her arms across her chest, flinching when her shoulder blades stretched. "Where is my dress?" She asked, not looking up to me.
"It was torn and bloodstained. Had you worn it any longer you could have gotten an infection." I explained as gently as I could, hoping she would understand her situation. With much hesitation, she nodded and removed her arms from their position over her chest. She glanced at me quickly and blushed when she saw me looking at her, swiftly looking away.
"Yes?" I arched a brow.
"Nothing. I just… wanted to try it out. Your name. I've never had a face to put with it."
I laughed. "You still haven't one. I have no face." She looked confused and reached out her hand to the side of my face uncovered by the mask. She eyes flickered to mine, asking silently for permission. I nodded, in consent. She ran the tips of her fingers along my cheekbones, over my eyebrow and my eyelid, before resting on my lips, memorizing my untarnished features. I closed my eyes and sighed lightly at her soft touch.
Moving away from my lips slowly, I felt her fingers slip under the edge of the mask. Only then did I catch her wrist in my own and pull her hand away from my face. I could see in her eyes that she wanted to know what lie beneath the porcelain, but she didn't fight me on the matter.
"Please, Christine. I don't want to ruin anything."
Christine opened her mouth to protest, but she closed it soon after, knowing arguing would do nothing. She looked down and, noticing she was still seated in my lap, moved away. She blushed, turning her head away slightly. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize –"
"It's quite alright." I chuckled, grasping her chin gently to turn her face to me. She kept her eyes down, afraid to meet my eyes. "Christine." I said her name firmly. She looked out through her dark lashes, blue eyes meeting gold. "You've no need to be embarrassed with me. I promise you, we did nothing improper."
Christine nodded and placed her head on my chest. The moment felt so intimate, yet it was so simple. I could surely stay this way forever. I moved a hand to her hair, letting my fingers run through the locks and weave around her chocolate curls. She sighed and let her body relax against mine.
"I feel heavy. Like a weight is on me." She whispered.
"You need to sleep. That's your injury's toll on your body." I played my fingers over her makeshift bandage and was grateful that no blood was seeping through.
"Will you sing for me?" She sleepily asked.
"Of course. What would you like to hear?"
"The sun on the meadow is summery warm. The stag in the forest runs free, but gather together to greet the storm. Tomorrow belongs to me. The branch of the linden is leafy and green. The Rhine gives its gold to the sea. But somewhere a glory awaits unseen. Tomorrow belongs to me."
Christine's breathing slowed and became a steady pattern while I sang. I gingerly pulled her away from me and lay her head on what was left of my cloak. I quietly moved to the door and found it locked. The only doorknob appeared to be on the outside of the little cabin, leaving only the polished wood of the door staring back mockingly.
I went to the door on the opposite end of the room, hoping for an exit, but knowing there would be none. The door opened into a small washroom. Barely big enough for one person to navigate without hitting anything. No windows adorned the walls, leaving the room in darkness except for the moonlight screaming through the crack of the open door in a ribbon.
The windows in the larger room were not to be disturbed. They were locked with a key and made of thick sturdy glass. Glass not meant to be pretty, but instead, effective for keeping heat, or people in this case, inside. Any attempts to bread the thick window would end in injury or the possibility of being heard from any guard nearby.
My eyes trailed to the door where the distinctive click of a key being turned in a lock sounded. The door opened inward and I watched the stagehand from earlier stumble in, clearly inebriated. His eyes fell on Christine in her less than there clothing. I looked in disgust as his lustful gaze took its time racking over her body. I stood in front of her, blocking her form from his vision.
He smirked and dropped a canvas bag on the ground in front of him in the doorway. "I was told to bring this." He said before slamming the door and locking it behind him.
I swiped the bag from the floor and took my spot next to Christine. Opening the bag, I found a few slices of hard, stale bread and a small canister of water. Neither would last very long between two people, no matter how little I needed to eat.
I watched Christine sleep and the thought came suddenly. What if I hadn't been awake when the man came? I shivered to think what he could have and most likely would have done to her. I lifted her body so that it lay across my lap and hummed through the night.
When the sun came up and hit Christine's face through the window, she scrunched her nose up and squinted against the light. She moved a hand so that it covered her eyes and sat up slowly, flinching at the pain in her back. I said nothing as she woke up. Her fingers lightly rubbed the sleep away from her eyes and she leaned back on her palms, breathing deeply before opening her eyes.
When her eyes found mine, she smiled slightly. Just the corners of her mouth tipped up in a melancholy way. "Good morning."
"Hmm. That's debatable." I said. She chuckled humorlessly. I watched her turn her gaze to the window in tragic hope. The sun made everything look so serene, casting a bright green glow across the ground as the rays are filtered through the trees' leaves. How unfair for the sun to glow on such a day as this.
Christine moved weakly so that her back was against the wall with the window. She stared stoically at the wall across from her, all traces of hope fading away. I grimaced at her broken expression.
"Here." I placed a slice of the bread in her limp palm. Her tired eyes found the food and she brought it to her mouth. The corners of her eyes crinkled as she attempted to hold back a face, most likely because of the taste of the stale morsel. She took a sip of the water, making an equally disgusted expression. When half of the slice was gone, she placed the bread on the canvas sac and pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her chin upon them.
"Do you think we'll escape?" She whispered. I looked at her, struggling to find the right answer. After a few moments of silence, a tear slipped down her cheek and a whimper quickly followed.
I enveloped her now-shaking frame in my arms. She sobbed into my chest, soaking the fabric of my shirt. After a minute or so of tears, she attempted to speak through the broken cries. "What- What if we- we're here forever? E-Erik, p-please." She wrapped her arms around my neck, her face against my shoulder. "I can't st-stand it he-here. They're so horrid and- and-"
"Hush, Christine. We mustn't think such things." I cradled her to me. "You'll get out of here. I promise. If it kills me, you'll be free."
Poor Erik and Christine! I hope they get out soon!
So, good, bad, love it, hate it, ship it, rip it, want Raoul POV, Erik POV, or Christine POV, how should they escape, should Raoul help them escape. Should there be a full-fledged love triangle? Tell me in a review or PM!
Once again, thanks for all who still care to stick with this story! YOU ROCK!
Song: Tomorrow Belongs To Me from Cabaret