78ABOUT THE STORY - This is a little something filling in some "missing" chapters from the end of Susan Kay's Phantom. It goes without saying that this contains some MAJOR SPOILERS. If you haven't read Phantom, then get on it! If, like me, once you're done you find yourself wanting to have more to read regarding Erik and Christine's final time together, you know where to come. I completely understand the importance of less being more, and leaving things up to the imagination of the reader and all that, but...what can I say? I'm a glutton for this story, and I wanted to see it all written out, even if it meant I had to do the writing myself. Really, I'm writing this for me (this is my first fic!), and if there's one or two other people out there who would enjoy it as well, I'm happy to share.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. They belong to Gaston Leroux by way of Susan Kay. The basic idea? Also not mine. Like I said, I'm fleshing out what happened "off screen", so to speak, and so for that, credit goes to Susan Kay.
Christine 1881
The scraps of paper swirled and danced in the draft created by the slamming of the door. They hung in the air for a moment, and then fell lifeless back onto the tiled grate of the fireplace. It wasn't until I became lightheaded that I realized I'd been holding my breath, not daring to move even an inch as I listened to Raoul's furious steps retreat down the hall. I took a long, shuddering breath, but remained otherwise still and silent as I strained my ears to hear orders barked to the carriage driver, followed by the sharp snap of the carriage door. The ticking of the clock on the mantle echoed around the room, and with each tick, my wretchedness increased. How much longer would he wait for me? Did he sit, imagining me rushing out to him, arms outstretched, admitting my foolishness and begging to be forgiven? That he waited, clinging to the hope that our love and commitment would overcome a rash, foolish promise shamed me. It shamed me, but it did not cause me to stir from my seat.
Mercifully, the carriage began to lurch forward with a long, low creak which sounded to my ears like a groan. The wheels clacked against the cobblestones, grew quieter and then were gone.
With a sigh born of equal parts anxiety and relief, I arose and strode across the room to my writing desk. I'd promised Erik that I would return to him with a wedding invitation, and nothing would stop me from fulfilling that promise. Not even a cancelled wedding.
Oh, Raoul! You believe me to be held to Erik by fear, by pity, when in actuality it is by a connection which I doubt you would comprehend, had I words to explain it. Perhaps you wouldn't want to. Yet, increasingly there have been moments where a darkness comes into your clear eyes, and I feel you must be close to guessing at it. It would be better that you didn't. My dearest wish is that you'd stay always that simple, uncomplicated man that I fell so effortlessly in love with. Part of me mourns for that unburdened future we might have shared, but there is no choice for me. I have come to realize in the past few weeks that there is but one path before me, and I must take it, though when I reach the end I may never earn your forgiveness.
I drew a fresh gilt-edged card from the desk drawer, once again took up my pen, and scratched out a new invitation. The ink not yet dry, I gathered it up along with the two keys I'd set out on the table and hurried from the room. A thought detained me, one hand on the door frame, and I returned to stand before the fireplace. Reaching up to remove a burning candle from beside the clock on the mantle, I tipped it down to touch an edge of the invitation that Raoul had shredded in frustration. The flame licked at the paper for a moment before it caught, curling and blackening the pieces until all that remained were ashes.
It was time to start headlong down the path which lay before me, which could only lead to the house beside the underground lake, and to my Angel, who waited for me within it.