Remembering the Angel

By Phangirl1905

27.8K 1.2K 639

What if the curtain never fell? What if that bullet had never killed Christine? Could it be too good to be t... More

Note to Reader
Waking after the kiss
Through the Mirror
He Heard Her Sing Once More
The Mask and Moonlight
An unexpected {highly expected} Return
A lesson in the Aerie
Madame & Miss Giry
A story Retold
Shattering Glass
Little Chorus Girls
The Corpse who Loved
& I Loved You.
Cooking with Fire
The Point of a Return
Tale as Old as Time
The Night Before
Letter to Readers
What was lost now found
As the Outcast Heard
Remembering her Angel
A Final Bow
Epilogue Part I: It's Over Now
Epilogue Part II: Descendants of the Opera

The New Phantom

921 51 17
By Phangirl1905

Chirstine's POV

Taking a deep breath, Christine addressed Gustave.

"Gustave, your father and I, we -"

There was a knock at the door.

At least I remembered to lock it, Christine applauded herself.

Gustave walked over to the door and opened it.

Madame Giry walked in, followed by Raoul who was guiding Meg in by the small of her back.

"Time for lessons." Madame Giry said, holding the door open.

"He still has lessons?" Christine questioned.

"Miss Daae. Ame Relancé opens in just under two weeks. If the boy is to perform in the master's show, he will need practice."

"Of course, of course, I just didn't know if he still wanted Gustave to come after..." she trailed off.

"After?" Madame Giry pressed.

"Nothing." She turned to Gustave, "Go ahead and practice, but please Gustave," she whispered, "don't question him about my memory. He knows."

"Ok Mother." Gustave grabbed his music sheets and exited the room with Madame Giry.

She was now left with Raoul and Meg.

"Raoul, would you give Meg and I a moment please."

Raoul nervously looked at Meg, who just nodded simply and gestured her hand to the door for him.

Erik's POV

The Phantom couldn't look himself in the mirror. He abandoned Christine before sunrise, again.

Last night, when he returned for his mask, Christine had been clutching it to her chest. Her face red and paths of dried tears shimmered in the moonlight.

Erik had needed to draw his breath at the sight.

She held his ivory mask as he once held her ivory veil.

Never would he have imagined seeing Christine in such a state. He had broken her. Returning just made it that much worse. At least, during that other time, he did not have to see her. He had convinced himself she would have woken up relieved the following morning.

The Phantom had been wrong. On both accounts.

He had assumed that if she fell back asleep, her mind would put together the pieces her soul so desperately wanted to separate. She would wake up, ashamed of their love, ashamed of his actions. He no longer dreaded her reaction to his face, but his deeds, she would never love him again once Christine knew him for a murderer.

The Phantom was no longer a face. The Phantom was a past he never wanted recovered.

Seeing her, his angel, so shattered, and he knew exactly how she felt. It had been him, the night she left his lair. It had been him, crying into the night.

Now he was indebted to her.

Then when she addressed the mirror. He had not been watching her, he couldn't bring himself to look at her. But he could hear her pleading voice., from the corner he sat in cursing himself that morning. He heard her. Heard her tears. Heard her pain. He had cried with her.

"I gave you my music, You made my song take wing. And now, how I've repaid you. Denied you and deserted you," The Phantom sang with a broken heart, "I will always love you, but now how can we be?

Oh Christine."

Erik walked to the center of the stage, and took his place at the piano. He played the piece he had Christine sing the night they practiced.

 If he closed his eyes, he could hear her in the notes.

"Father?" a quiet voice broke his spell.

Composing himself, he looked up to see Gustave, coming to the stage.

"Gustave, I didn't expect to see you today."

"We always have lessons at this hour." he stared at him with a confused look.

Erik looked down at his hands that rested on the keys, finally, he decided to be honest with his son.

"I didn't anticipate your mother letting you see me."

"She didn't expect you to want me to come." he said simply.

Oh, Christine. His sweet, broken Christine. She was blaming herself for his leaving. She thought that somehow, he could blame her for an injustice. No.

But how could he fix this?

"Gustave. I have caused your mother great pain." Was Erik really going to confide in his child? How could the boy understand?

But Erik had no one else to confide in.

"I know. We talked this morning." Was all the small boy would reveal.

"To what extent?" Erik pressed.

"She told me not to say." He said as he walked over to the piano.

Erik almost laughed to himself. Is this how it would be if they were a family? Gustave choosing his mother's wishes over Erik's?

He could imagine, one evening, Gustave getting a chocolate bar from the cupboard after Erik had told him otherwise. Then simply by saying, "Mother said I could." Would his authority be outbeat.

Of course it would be. Erik would chose Christine's wishes over his own every time.

There was the answer.

Christine's wish was to be with him. Why deny her that wish while she still wanted him? Even if his days were numbered, he would never leave her side until she remembered her Angel who once burned in Hell.

"Come Gustave, let us rehearse. We will both go to visit your mother after practice."

And with that, they began to play.

********

Note to Reader,

Very short I know! But the next part is just all about Christine and Meg and I just wanted to separate these two parts.

I haven't slept in 3 days...lol I'm so dead tired. My parents are getting on me more and more about choosing a college and I just can't. It's not that I don't want to choose one, its just my way and their way are...very different.

But at least I find comfort in writing & sharing with you guys!

Hope everyone is having a great week!

Comments, critiques, etc. are encouraged!

Instagram: @ Sing_Angel_of_Music

Your Humble Servant,

W.G.

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