Author's note: After reading Punjabchild's phics and watching my recently acquired Robert Englund Phantom tape a thousand times, I decided to listen to my muse and write this sequel. My muse had been itching to write this for a while, but that was before I had the movie. I made her wait, but I've nearly memorized the whole thing, so I'm comfortable with to starting this. Anyway, updates will be slow coming probably, because I have a lot of other stories I'm working on. But I promise, I will finish it. Please be kind, this is only my second phic based on this particular version. Please review, I'm an addict!!!!
Disclaimer: I do not own Erik Dessler, Christine Day, or anything else you recognize. Any original characters are mine, but there aren't many I here. Please do not sue me. Besides, if the planned sequel had been made and released, I might not be writing this!! So there.
LOVE OR MUSIC
CHAPTER ONE: DREAMS OF WHAT IF
Christine stared at Erik's outstretched hand. She was so weary of this, of fighting him. Perhaps she should give in, just drop the gun and surrender. He wouldn't kill her, she knew that much. But there were things worse than death, and his eyes seemed to promise those things.
He approached her. His hand getting closer and closer. If he got closer, he'd simply grab her. But how could she give up, surrender to this man, this murderer.
Too late, he had her in his grasp. She struggled, but he was far too strong. She remembered the gun and raised it. Then dropped it. It wouldn't kill him, she knew that. Why even try? He had her, and he wasn't going to let her go.
So why didn't that bother her right now?
Come with me, Christine," he whispered as he pulled her closer. His hand moved up to her elbow, gripping it tightly as he finally brought her close to him. "Come with me, stay with me," he spoke again. His other hand reached up to stroke her hair.
Christine's eyes flickered over to the rising flames. Soon this place would be consumed in flames. Why not leave with him, escape while she had a chance?
The mirror a voice seemed to whisper. The mirror, she had to break the mirror. Why? She couldn't remember. She couldn't remember why she wanted to leave him. She stared up at him, straight into his gray eyes.
He was doing something to her, this wasn't the way it went. He was making her forget, she had to fight him.
She had to get away.
"No you don't not this time, Christine," Erik hissed and gripped her even more tightly. "I won't let you leave again."
The sound of gunshots broke Christine out of her daze, and she watched in horror as Erik backed away from her in pain. Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, Christine ran towards the mirror and pushed the candelabra into it.
The sound of Erik crying out her name was nearly drowned out by the shattering glass.
Erik jerked up, gasping for breath. His skin felt moist from sweat and his vision was blurry. He closed his eyes and sighed, sinking back down to the mattress.
The dream again. Couldn't it ever go away? Every night since that night in his lair, he'd had the same dream, over and over and over again. It was maddening, but then he was far beyond sanity, wasn't he? He always tried to keep her with him and always failed. It varied from time to time as he tried to will the dream to end right, but that never happened.
"What do you dream of, my dear Christine?" Erik wondered aloud. "Do you ever dream of me? Ever dream of your adventure, your little escapade in the past? Or of what you did when you came back?!" he almost snarled. He both loved and hated her. She brought these nightmares down on him. She left him, tried to kill him, tried to keep him away from her.
But he still wanted her, still loved her. Which was why the dream was truly a nightmare for him. He had a suspicion that if he ever were to succeed and find a way to stop loving her, the nightmare would go away.
Fat chance of that happening.
But we can dream, can't we?
Christine awoke with a start, the glass and Erik's cries still echoing in her ears. Her heart was pounding and her breath came in short, small gasps as she took in her surrounding. She groaned and fell back onto the soft bed. Sighing, she clutched her pillow.
She'd had that dream again. It would come every so often, just enough to keep her from getting to many nights of peaceful sleep, but varying its visits to make it impossible to predict when it would come again. And it was almost always the same. Sometimes it changed, Erik would do something different, sometimes she would. But the outcome was always the same.
Christine would either shove and accidentally push the candelabra into the mirror, destroying it and waking her up. Leaving Christine to wonder to herself, why the heck was she having this dream?
More like nightmare, she thought bitterly. Ugh, can't I get one week of relatively good sleep? Just seven nights without it, is that so much to ask?
It seemed that it was. But Christine still didn't understand why almost every time, she let Erik grab her. She refused to believe there was a part of her that felt something for him. She was terrified by the fact that there was an extremely good chance he wasn't dead.
Not happy, not somewhat hopeful, terrified. After all, if he was still alive, then what in the world would kill him? If he was still after her, though she prayed he wasn't, he would find her eventually.
But what would happen when he did? Would he torture her, kill her? Or would he still want her, still trying to convince her he loved her? That he wanted her to love him? How could he? How could she?
Ugh, stop it, Christine, just stop it!! You don't know if he's alive or not, so just let it rest for now. Go back to sleep.
Reluctantly, she relaxed and pushed her worries away. Tomorrow she could muse and worry herself to death with what ifs, but now she needed to try and get some sleep without dreaming them.
To sleep, perchance to dream, was the last thought in her mind. Christine was too tired to realize though, that the voice that whispered it was not her own.