Author's Note: Hello all! I am deeply sorry for the extremely long delay in updating this story! Life has gotten in the way and I am truly sorry! Eternity shall come to a close soon, though I do plan on continuing Erik and Christine's story through another piece of writing, which will pertain to their new life together in a foreign land, which shall be revealed soon. I propose a couple more chapters, probably three at the most, though this chapter may seem to be the final one, it's not! There is so much more to be revealed between Christine and Erik. There are final goodbyes and unfinished business, too! So, please, bear with me, and I hope I haven't lost you all completely! Thanks for everything! And please, keep reading and reviewing! Thanks :]
Chapter Thirty-Five: The Bride in the Mirror
Christine trembled as she grasped Erik's outstretched hand and carefully stepped out of the majestic boat. She stared wide eyed at the abandoned lair, dark and seductive memories filling her befuddled mind as she stood within it, Erik's arms now wrapped protectively about her waist as he steadied her upon the ground.
"I suppose you can't see a thing," Erik whispered in her ear as he simultaneously caressed her stomach, causing Christine to quiver with desire.
"No, I suppose not," she breathed.
Erik squeezed her waist then turned toward the boat and retrieved the single candle they'd brought with them as their guiding light. He'd lit the oil lamp that hung from the front of the boat and now seemed to go about lighting the myriad of candelabra that existed within his former home.
Christine wrapped her arms about her body as she attentively watched Erik deftly go about the lair illuminating the daunting darkness with the single candlestick. His keen eyesight and elegant motions never ceased to amaze her. He truly was a magnificent being.
After several moments, he finished, hastily returning to her and setting the single candle down beside the boat. He entwined his hands with hers and kissed her forehead. Christine nuzzled his neck and lightly kissed his throat in return then laid her head upon his chest.
Erik wrapped his arms tightly about her.
"Isn't as magical and fantastical as before?" Erik uneasily asked as he began caressing her back, "As mysterious, as dangerous?" He leaned his head toward her and nipped her ear, "As seductive?" he murmured with more confidence now.
Christine smiled against his chest and wrapped her arms about him, both falling into a seemingly golden silence.
"That night had been a fatal illusion," Erik sadly observed after a moment, his mood drastically changing.
Christine furrowed her eyebrows at his words and jerked her head up to face him, deterred by Erik's sudden change of heart.
"How can you say that?" she asked, exasperated.
Erik kissed her brow and smiled warily.
"Forgive me. I—" he began then abruptly closed his eyes and sighed, visibly overwhelmed. "Christine—"
"Hush, my love," Christine quietly spoke, laying a finger upon his lips. "It's all right. I understand."
Erik nodded his head and grasped Christine's face between his hands and kissed her briefly. Christine sighed sweetly as she tasted his warm lips then laid her head upon his chest as Erik wrapped his arms about her tightly. They stood in silence for another moment longer before Erik squeezed her softly and broke away from their blissful yet somber embrace. He turned toward his former home once more, observing it keenly.
Christine watched Erik intently, concern and curiosity sweeping through her thoughts. She bit her lip then caressed Erik's back before walking deeper within the lair, her curiosity finally getting the better of her. She smiled tenderly at Erik over her shoulder as she walked past him then turned and stopped abruptly, nearly tripping over the strangest object she'd ever known, had ever seen. An object that had distorted her entire vision of her Angel of Music the first time he'd revealed it to her that night all those years ago.
"Oh, God," Christine heard Erik quietly breath. Christine swallowed hard at his words, blinking her eyes profusely, desperately wanting to hide the tears that now eclipsed them, as Erik walked toward her and the inanimate object that had caused her innocent mind such confusion that night.
Erik bent down before it, his knees trembling, and slowly reached out to it, caressing its lifelike features, its face, its hair. He then pulled his hand quickly away, as if it burned him, and leaned helplessly against the dark and regal throne beside them.
"It's me," Christine whispered after moments of agonizing silence between the two lovers. Suddenly angry and utterly distressed Christine sat down beside Erik and grabbed the mannequin between her trembling hands. "Whatever were you thinking, Erik, when you created this? When you created me, an unmoving, unfeeling woman? I couldn't understand then, but now," she abruptly dropped the mannequin that had haunted her mind and took Erik's tormented face between her hands, "tell me, whatever possessed you?"
Erik pushed away from Christine and stood before her and the mannequin that resembled Christine perfectly. He ran a hand through his hair and began pacing the floor.
"I-I don't know. It's just a doll, Christine, nothing more." He stopped suddenly and stared down at Christine then once more at the mannequin. "A doll that had truly been a pale imitation to the flesh and blood woman I thought I'd never know." He admitted softly then rubbed his hands on his face. "God, I don't know, Christine."
Christine stood before him anxiously and crossed her arms about her chest.
"You do know, Erik. I know you do!" She bent and grabbed the replica and threw it upon the throne. "Please, tell me!"
They stood in silence once more, Christine's eyes burning through Erik's, her chest heaving with heavy breaths. She had never been able to purge the mannequin from her mind. It'd frightened her the night he'd abducted her through the mirror and mysteriously brought her down to his lair. Her innocent and befuddled mind hadn't allowed her to understand then. She'd thought it a little strange yet truly believed it to be Erik's way of expressing his feelings of her through this morbid yet incredibly fascinating art. Through his creation he'd found a profoundly unrealistic yet fantastical way to profess his wanting to be one with her, to love her, to wed her.
Christine shook her head and turned away from Erik, her thoughts churning in her mind. She'd thought it'd simply been a proposal of marriage, and perhaps it had. But she hadn't understood completely. Not then. She scoffed. Perhaps never, she thought miserably.
"I created it only months before I'd taken you through the mirror, Christine," Erik suddenly spoke, causing Christine to shiver at the sadness and regret in his voice. "It was during the time I had begun to devise an idea to bring you down here to stay with me, and live with me for eternity."
Christine slowly turned toward him as she heard the constant struggle in his voice. Tears filled Erik's eyes, causing Christine's heart to break. She walked toward him and laid her hand upon his bare cheek.
Erik let out a long sigh.
"I had this whole idea in my mind, Christine. I knew how to express my desire for you through my music and body, yet I hadn't known how to express my love and wanting of you as my companion…as my wife." He drew in a long breath then stared down at the haunting mannequin. He mockingly laughed. "I thought you'd be flattered once I revealed it to you. I couldn't fathom why you'd fainted after you'd seen it. God," he breathed as he turned away from Christine, "what a pathetic fool I had been." He threw his arms up in the air and began pacing once more. "I'd found the wedding dress in a Parisian shop one night. I'd stolen it, obviously," he confessed miserably after a moment. "When I'd seen it, I just knew it was meant for you and no one else, for us. I was once again a man possessed. I furtively broke into the little shop and took it, and then escaped down to my lair and endlessly began creating…my vision of you."
Christine closed her eyes at Erik's uneasy words and looked down at the mannequin.
"I was alone, Christine." Erik finally admitted.
Tears streamed down Christine's cheeks at Erik's words. She reached out and lightly caressed the mannequin's expressionless face.
"I know," she said simply as she pulled her hand away from the mannequin and went to Erik. She wrapped her arms around him from behind and laid her head upon his back.
Erik laid his hands upon hers. Christine held him tighter as she felt his body tremble.
"I had hoped it would give me the courage to finally reveal myself to you as a man. I desperately wanted you in my life, Christine. In my physical life," he said with more conviction. "I truly thought this creation of you, no matter how morbid, or how…beautiful," he shamefully whispered, "it had been, would give me all that I needed to bring you into my life. That doll made it feel as if you were there with me. I needed you."
Erik turned to face Christine and grasped her face in his hands.
"I never meant to frighten you. I was just a lost and lonely man, terribly tormented and utterly broken, and I needed you. This," he motioned his arm toward the mannequin that lay emotively upon the throne. "This was all I had."
"But, Erik, you had me. You—"
"No, Christine," Erik objected, pulling abruptly from her. He stalked toward the mannequin. He abrasively picked it up from the throne and shook it. "Perhaps I had your voice, your attention, your thoughts and dreams, but it wasn't enough! I wanted you! I needed you! I needed your touch, your caress, your body joined with mine. I wanted everything from you. So I created this false dream, this twisted dream. I had this divine image of you, of me. I wanted you for my wife. And so I dressed this doll up in the wedding dress and veil," he suddenly walked across the lair and bent and grasped the veil he'd forced upon her the night everything had ended between them, "and hoped and prayed to the God I didn't even believe in, that you would marry me and come away with me, that you would love me!"
Christine flinched as Erik walked toward her then threw the mannequin and veil across the room, causing them both to hit the throne and fall helplessly to the floor.
"Damn it," Erik roared as he ran his hands through his hair and abruptly walked away and dejectedly sat upon the bench of his organ. He laid his elbows upon the keys, not caring for the garish sounds it created, and laid his head in his hands and wept.
Christine laid her hand upon her chest, her breathing heavy, her face wet with tears. She truly hadn't meant to upset him. She hadn't meant to become angry with him. She knew he wasn't the same man from before, not completely. She looked down at the floor and shook her head, ashamed and upset with herself.
"Erik, I—" she began when a familiar sound began to play, causing a now bewildered Christine to furrow her brows and Erik to jerk his head up and face her, an agonizing look of pain enveloping him. "What is it?" Christine quickly asked as Erik stood from the bench and walked past her toward the throne and now abandoned mannequin.
Christine hurriedly followed Erik as he fell to the ground and pushed the mannequin and veil aside to reveal Erik's papier-mâché music box with a very fanciful monkey in Persian robes upon it. It was slightly disheveled and covered in dust but still working beautifully. Erik hastily cleaned it with his sleeve as it continued to play the reminiscent tune then sat it carefully upon the floor and quietly sang to himself.
Just as before, Christine warily thought as she sat down beside him and laid a hand on his thigh. Erik laid his hand upon hers as he softly continued to sing. After a moment, Christine couldn't help herself any longer and found herself joining him, the lingering yet beautiful melody bringing a rush of wondrous yet terrifying memories to her mind, her heart.
The music finally stopped and Erik laid his hand upon the monkey's head then grabbed Christine and held her tightly in his arms, his embrace startling her.
"Christine, I love you," he cried, caressing her hair and back. "I love you so very much."
"Oh, Erik," Christine breathed as she held him close, soothing him with her own caresses, "I love you, too." She carefully pulled away from him and looked fervently into his tear filled amber eyes. "I'm sorry, Erik. I hadn't meant to upset you. Truly, I never meant—"
"I know, Christine," Erik spoke, stopping her as he wiped her tearstained cheeks. "I know. But this is what we came here to do, isn't it? I want nothing between us any longer. Whatever you wish to know, just ask. My secrets, my past, are yours."
Christine softly smiled then looked down at the music box, which had stopped playing. She gently touched it.
"This was the first time you ever told me you loved me." She uneasily laughed. "Yes, you demonstrated your love many times before, but you never told me you loved me. You never said the words. Not once. Not until I briefly returned to you with your ring." Christine grasped her left hand and began to twist Erik's gold ring about her finger. She bit her lip. "I almost stayed with you because of those words."
Erik miserably groaned.
"Oh, Christine," he murmured. "How I wanted you to." He wrapped his arms around her waist and brought her to him once more. "How I wanted you for always."
Christine wrapped her arms around Erik in return and began crying against his chest.
"I love you, Erik."
"I know that now, angel. I think perhaps I've always known it."
Christine smiled as she looked up into Erik's eyes.
"I truly hope so," she whispered then kissed him sweetly.
Erik grasped her face and kissed her passionately in return then licked and bit her bottom lip as he pulled away causing Christine to smile mischievously. She giggled lightly as Erik swept her up in his arms and stood.
"Well," he sighed as he set her down carefully on her feet.
"Well," Christine pleasantly repeated as she leaned against Erik, the mood suddenly lightened.
Erik kissed her forehead then began to walk about the lair.
"I'm sure we have much more to discover, wouldn't you say?" he asked as he walked over to his organ and caressed it gently.
Christine stood silently as she watched Erik fixedly, her mind twisting and turning as she felt compelled to wonder if Erik truly found courage through a replica doll to confront her, to reveal himself to her, or if it had been something…or someone, else. She shook her head as Erik sat down at the organ and flexed his fingers, clearly readying himself to play. She didn't wish to think of the sorrow anymore, of the possibility of the past, a past that could never be changed, that would never die. Yet there was one question that consumed her still.
"Erik?" Christine called to him as he began to play, slowly falling into a dream, a reverie of passion and love.
"Hmm?" he responded, his eyes closed, his mind completely possessed by his music.
Christine drew in a deep breath as she wrapped her arms about her body and began pacing. After some time she stopped and stared deeply at Erik.
"Would you ever have revealed yourself to me as a flesh and blood man if Raoul hadn't come back into my life?" she simply asked.
Erik stopped playing immediately and turned toward Christine, his expression one of absolute disbelief, causing Christine to feel a foolish child once more. She shook her head and looked down at the floor, utterly ashamed.
"Forgive me," she said ever so softly. "I don't know what I was thinking." She bit her lip as she looked up at Erik once more. "It was silly of me to ask. Forget I ever said anything."
Erik stared at Christine for a long while then stood from the organ and strode toward her. He gently took her chin in his hand and forced her to look into his eyes.
"Christine, darling, what do you think?" Erik asked, the seriousness in his voice frightening Christine.
She shrugged her shoulders.
"I truly don't know." She looked over her shoulder and down at the mannequin. "It can't simply be through that doll. It just sounds…oh, I don't know, Erik," Christine breathed, completely frustrated with herself now. "I suppose I'll never truly understand."
Erik softly smiled and took Christine in his arms.
"Neither will I, angel. But," he said firmly as he grasped Christine's shoulders and looked ardently into her eyes, "I promise you, I would have revealed myself to you, even if Raoul had never come back into your life. I meant what I said, love. I needed you, Christine, I wanted you in my life for always. I love you."
Christine tremulously smiled and took Erik's face in her hands. She kissed him briefly.
"I love you, too."
They embraced another once more, gently caressing the other's back as they fell into an idyllic silence.
"Christine, darling," Erik finally began, furrowing his brows as he released himself from her arms and walked toward the throne. He bent down and carefully picked up the veil once more, holding it closely to his chest, to his very heart it would seem. "Whatever happened to the wedding dress?"
"Oh," Christine simply responded as she felt her face become heated with a flush she hadn't wished to expose. She uneasily smiled. "Erik—"
"No, no, never you mind," Erik suddenly blurted out, visibly disturbed by her possible answer. "I don't think I wish to know." Almost trancelike, Erik caressed the veil, just as he'd done all those years ago as Christine left with Raoul in the boat, and then laid it gently upon the throne.
Christine smiled as she walked toward him and laid her hand upon his back, causing Erik to turn and look sadly into her eyes.
"I still have it, Erik," Christine murmured.
Erik's eyes widened.
"What? But how?" he asked, completely floored. "I don't understand. What of Raoul—"
"Hush," Christine breathed, laying her hand upon Erik's lips. "He thinks it doesn't exist any longer. But, I hadn't the heart to get rid of it." She let out a long sigh. "It is a secret between me and a maid I trusted with all that I am." Christine smiled as she shook her head. "She was more of a confidante then maid, actually. No matter. She locked it safely away within our…Raoul's home," Christine admitted sheepishly, silently cursing herself for her blunder. "Every so often I would steal away to its hiding place and simply look at it." She uneasily laughed. "Nights were the hardest for me when it would come to thinking of you, Erik, of wishing it were your arms I was in and not my husband's. But that dress brought back such memories I couldn't seem to rid myself of. It was all I physically had left of you. Oh, I don't know," Christine finally stopped, unable to continue any longer. "Please, I don't wish to speak of that…doll," she looked over at it laying on the ground, "or dresses or veils or anything—"
Erik stopped Christine's words with a kiss.
"I don't wish to either, angel-love. I'm not that obsessive man any longer. No more dolls. I promise."
Christine smiled, glad for the slight jest.
"I know. I'm glad."
Erik gently squeezed her shoulders then went and sat before his organ once more. He began to play, his song soothing Christine's tormented soul. These confessions had been extremely exhausting yet utterly refreshing. Yet Christine knew that once their pasts were truly unlocked and nothing was left undiscovered between them and their love any longer all would be put right between them. They would truly be able to leave this place behind and start life anew with another.
Christine let out a long, sweet sigh and stretched her arms above her head then ventured throughout the lair as Erik continued to play, her journey bringing her to the bedroom. Her attention immediately fell upon the rather large bed which was placed in the center of the rather small yet luxurious room. It was an exquisite bed, its Persian bedding and canopied curtains bringing out a lush and extravagant ambiance to the room. It was divine.
Unable to resist any longer, Christine sat upon the bed then lay flat upon it, letting out another long sigh. Within moments she was asleep.
Erik smiled pleasantly as he watched his sleeping angel. She was truly darling. He walked toward her and softly stroked her hair then leaned in and kissed her lightly on the forehead. He chuckled to himself as she drew in a sweet sigh then rolled onto her side and curled herself into a ball. He then lifted the Persian comforter and laid it upon her body.
He'd lost himself completely in his music and hadn't realized that Christine had drifted off into a languorous sleep until he'd felt the urge to do so himself. Finding Christine sleeping, her exuding innocence astounding him, had left him utterly helpless. She was truly compelling.
He didn't wish to fight with her any longer. Their discussion of his brief past with the mannequin he'd foolishly created had nearly destroyed him. That creation had been one of the darkest moments in his life yet he hadn't truly thought it would cause such trouble. Erik sighed deeply and shook his head as he carefully sat down beside Christine on the lush bed.
He was certainly an obsessive monster all those years ago, and though there was much he regretted when it came to his dark life and his time with Christine, he still couldn't help but wonder if he hadn't been so very passionate for Christine, so very powerful toward her, that he would never have truly had her.
For what if he had been passive? What if he'd remained in the shadows as the Vicomte wooed her as the dashing young man he'd become, no longer the innocent little boy he'd once been. What if he'd always remained her fantastical Angel of Music? If he'd never revealed himself as the flesh and blood man he truly was, then perhaps he and Christine never would have discovered the erotic beauty that existed between them. She would had fallen in love with Raoul once again and married him without any thought about Erik as a man, without any inkling of the physical relationship that had bloomed and consumed them. For it would have never existed. A then what would have become of her beloved Angel of Music?
Erik softly groaned and laid his hands in his face. She would have left you still. That dark thought haunted Erik. The Vicomte would never have allowed her to continue her career upon the stage, not as his Vicomtesse. Once married Christine would certainly have left the confines of the Paris Opera House, and Erik would never have seen her again.
Erik shook his head at the thought then looked down at Christine.
"You're only fooling yourself," he whispered, as he caressed Christine's brown curls once more.
He would have followed her anywhere. He would have still come to Christine in her dreams, in the night, whilst she was the Vicomte's wife. He would still always be there inside her mind. She just never would have known the flesh and blood man, and that thought devastated Erik.
No, despite his particular regrets, he would never regret vying for Christine's love, for revealing himself to her. Never, he thought indubitably as he entwined his hand with hers, closed his eyes and slowly began to drift off into sleep.
"You never touched me that night."
Erik hastily shook his head and stared down at a now awake Christine, his mind slightly dazed.
"I'm sorry?" he asked, his mind slightly puzzled.
Christine sweetly smiled then sat up beside him, laying her hand upon his cheek.
"That night when you first brought me here," she continued. "Once I'd fainted…you never touched me while I slept."
Erik tremulously smiled and laid his hand upon Christine's cheek.
"No, I didn't. But how could you know?"
Christine shrugged her shoulders.
"I would have known," she said simply.
Erik grasped Christine's face in his hands completely.
"I never would have touched you against your will, Christine. Never," he said fervently.
"I know, Erik."
"And, though you don't wish to speak of certain things any longer, I do want you to know that I never touched that doll, either."
Christine's eyes widened, as if that thought hadn't even crossed her innocent mind.
"Erik, I never…I don't even know what to say. I couldn't even fathom that idea. I—"
"Hush, sweeting." Erik spoke, stopping an extremely flustered Christine. "Perhaps you're more innocent than you still imagined," he lightly teased.
"Perhaps so," she sighed, her cheeks covered in a charming blush. She let out a long breath and laid her head on his shoulder. "I dreamed of you," she candidly stated after a moment, changing the uncomfortable subject completely.
"I always dream of you, angel." He kissed her hand lightly.
Christine shook her head and looked up into Erik's eyes.
"No, no," she protested. "It wasn't just any dream of you. It was of that night, the night of your opera."
Erik briefly closed his eyes, hoping to all that was good that this particular incident in their lives wouldn't come up again. He cleared his throat.
"And?" he reluctantly indulged her.
"And," Christine began, "where is the dress?"
Erik stared down at her, utterly baffled.
"I thought you didn't wish to speak of dresses any longer? And what dress are you speaking of now?"
"The dress you created for me, silly!" She giggled as she lifted a pillow in her hands and playfully hit him with it. "Aminta's dress," she continued. "And don't play coy with me, darling. You know very well which dress I'm speaking of. It must still be in this room. After all—"
Erik laid his hand quickly upon her mouth, knowing exactly what memory she was just about to indulge in, a memory that certainly didn't convey one of his better moments.
"Oh," he said noncommittally, "that dress."
"Yes, that dress." Christine said firmly as she pulled away from him then giddily jumped from the bed and began looking furiously about the room. "Now," she spoke thoughtfully to herself, "wherever could it be? If I remember correctly—"
"Christine, please," Erik began to protest as he stood from the bed, "let's not do this. Not now." He rubbed his forehead, oddly terrified of this dress and yet strangely curious of what his beloved was up to. He began furiously pacing the room, not noticing the moments of silence that had passed him by. "I—where have you gone?" he suddenly asked as he noticed Christine had disappeared after a long while. "Christine?"
"Tell me, Erik."
Erik turned on his heel as Christine's voice filled the bedroom once more. His eyes widened.
"My God," he breathed. "You are beautiful."
Christine satisfyingly smiled, her hands upon her hips. She looked utterly divine, an exotic angel dressed as the innocent seductress, Aminta. A dress that he'd created for her for the opera he'd created as an artistic expression of their passion and love. A dress that certainly displayed the passion and seduction he'd created for them. Its coloring of pink and black along with its erotically entangled laces and designs, which exuded Christine's luscious curves, enticed Erik the night of his opera, and it certainly enticed him now. He trembled as he stared at his striking ladylove.
"Tell me," she subtly repeated as she strode toward him.
Erik swallowed hard and thrust his hands in his pockets, suddenly very shy.
"Yes?" he indulged after a moment, utterly beguiled by his seductive angel.
"That night, when you'd forced the wedding dress upon me…"
Erik looked down toward the ground as he was reminded of that hideous moment. God, he certainly had been a monster, forcing her to undress, forcing her to…love him.
"Did you peek, hmm?" she sweetly asked as she laid her finger under his chin and forced him to look in her glowing eyes. She was smiling, for God's sake!
"W-what?" Erik asked, absolutely dumbfounded. "Whatever do you mean?"
"I mean," she continued as she turned and walked toward the bed. She sat upon it most temptingly, leaning back upon her elbows, her eyes never leaving his. "Did you watch me undress that night? It's a simple question."
Erik lifted an eyebrow, suddenly catching on to her game of seduction. He walked slowly toward her then bent and crawled over her, causing her to lay flat on the bed. He breathed softly in her ear as she lay trapped beneath him, his body not quite touching hers, his hands on either side of her head.
"Whatever do you think, my dear? If I had no desire to touch you against your will, do you honestly believe that I would watch you undress?"
Christine demurely smiled as she slipped her arms about his neck, Erik forever grateful that she was turning an obsessively monstrous time in his life into a foolishly blissful moment.
"Well, you did abduct me through my mirror, watched me through my mirror. One can only wonder—"
Erik broke her words with a kiss, laying completely upon her now. He wedged her thighs apart with his knee and continued to devour her with his kiss as he wrapped his arms beneath her lithe body, crushing her against him. Christine moaned.
Yet he broke the kiss as soon as he'd began, breathing heavily, his and Christine's lips bruised by his impassioned kiss.
"You know very well the answer to that, you heartless tease." He leaned his forehead against hers as Christine slipped her arms down his stomach. "Very well," he groaned as Christine stroked his throbbing member.
"Do I, hmm?"
Erik cocked an eyebrow as she continued stroking him, testing him, it would seem.
"Yes," he said simply as he closed his eyes and reveled in her tormenting touch.
"Yes, I do," she whispered in his ear. "But, I'd like to think that you couldn't help yourself. After all," she untied his breeches and slipped her cold hands inside, grasping his raging erection. Erik groaned. "You are a man, and I, a woman. How could you possibly resist?" She teased.
Erik bent and kissed her neck, suckling it gently.
"Yes, how could I resist you, my love?" He conceded, taking her lips once more, his body and soul once more consumed by her everlasting passion.
"Erik," she breathed, as he deftly untied the laces to her bodice, "I want your every fantasy fulfilled, darling, your every desire, your every wish. I want you. I want to finally let your dream begin, our dream." She took his face in her hands. "I love you. Take me, as your Angel of Music, as your Aminta, as your Christine. I'm yours."
Tears eclipsed Erik's eyes at Christine's endearing words. He kissed her lightly.
"Forever, angel, for always," he whispered, tears streaming down his face as he embraced his eternal angel.