Chapter Text
Raoul stands on the end of his toes, his hands clutching the red noose, desperately trying to keep himself alive. His neck and hands burn from rubbing against the rope, no doubt leaving some kind of mark, bound to last for multiple days should he get out of this alive. "Christine forgive me, please forgive me!" He cries to his fiancée, who is being pinned to the dirty floor by their torturer. "I did it all for you and all for nothing!" He can't let this madman kill him. He needs to live, for Christine's sake. Even if he has to do so with broken bones.
The young woman sobs and gasps at her fiancé's pleas. "Erik, let him go! Why do you curse mercy?!"
Erik tightens his grip around her wrists with a low growl. "Quiet!"
Raoul's eyes are pleading, filled with fear, as Erik keeps Christine pressed to the ground, straddling her waist with his knees. She can do nothing to help him.
"Monsieur," Raoul whispers huskily, pulling the rope away from his neck by only a few millimetres just to get a few words out. "Please... Please don't do this."
"Quiet, stupid boy!!" Erik screams, letting go of Christine’s thin, pale wrists and abandoning her. He marches up to Raoul, grabbing a candle and holding it to his face. Raoul is trying to hold himself upright; his eyes filled with a strange combination of fear and panic; his breaths quick and shallow. Erik's anger is palpable, as he stands there with the candle right next to Raoul, the flame dangerously close to his face. It illuminates every crevice and imperfection of his skin, from the bags under his eyes to the small, near invisible scar on his cheek from a sailing accident.
Christine shudders audibly. "Erik, leave him be!"
"He's worthless," Erik hisses. "Weak and useless.” His already pale knuckles go white with his grip on the candlestick. “And his love is just as worthless. It's worthless, all of it!"
Raoul manages a weak, "Monsieur, please..." But Erik ignores him and glares at Christine, his face twisted in anger and disgust.
Christine dips her head down and cries. "My angel... you deceived me...! You... you're evil !"
Erik snarls and forces the candle flame right against Raoul's cheek, making the Vicomte flinch. The heat from the flame is searing. It's only a matter of seconds before disaster strikes. Raoul bites his lip, drawing blood, to keep himself from yelping in pain.
"Stop, stop, stop !" He starts to plead. His begging falls on deaf ears. Erik will not let up on his torture, only staring at the man with his cat-like eyes; yellow looking into sky blue. The flame starts to burn stray stubbly hairs on Raoul's cheek.
“Angel, I beg you! He’s no threat to you– he has nothing to do with this!” Christine cries. “He doesn’t deserve this! Who deserves this?!” She runs up to him to pull him away but only gets shoved to the ground. Raoul jerks almost involuntarily, reaching out to help Christine up but getting choked instead and grazing the tiny flame. He throws his hand back to its earlier place on the rope to hold himself steady and keep his airway open When she cries again, Erik yells and lowers the flame to Raoul's shirt, setting it alight. Raoul screams as the flames spread across his shirt. He flails desperately, letting go of the rope to pat out the fire, but it's no use, and he ends up choking instead. The flames are quickly spreading across his body, covering him like a rash. Erik just snarls as he watches Raoul struggle. He screams and screams, the sounds quickly becoming choked screeches.
" Erik!! Stop !" Christine wails from the ground. She rushes up to the madman again, kneeling before him, clutching his leg. The fire is rapidly reaching his hair and down Raoul’s torso, leaving a trail of charred, ashy fabric and blistering skin. They only have mere seconds before he’s past the point of being saved. "Get water, for pity's sake– put him out!!"
Erik ignores her pleas as he continues to watch Raoul suffer. The young man’s screams have morphed into frantic, choked yelps. Christine grabs his legs again, still trying to reason with him, to no avail.
"Please, Erik," she cries. "Please, please, for my sake!" Erik kicks her away with a groan as if she were a pest, tired of her wailing and growing uncomfortable with Raoul’s eerie screams. He raises his hands to his ears, cupping them to drown out the noise.
“Stop it, damned siren! Cease!” He shrieks.
In a desperate, last attempt to free her love, Christine plays her final card. "Alright, I'll stay here!” With trembling fingers, she twists the ring he gave her earlier in the final act of Don Juan Triumphant. “Erik... please, Erik, if you let him live– if you let me fetch water to put him out– I'll live with you forever down here. Is that not what you wanted? A wife? I'll– I'll be your wife! Just please have mercy on him!"
Erik stops and snaps his head down to look at her. He can't believe what he's hearing. Raoul continues to struggle, his screams becoming weaker and weaker as the air in his lungs is replaced with smoke. Erik's eyes narrow, staring at Christine as he considers her proposal. She's actually willing to marry him. He stares at her for a moment, not believing it.
He finally speaks. "You'll marry me...?"
"If you let him live, I will marry you in return." She regards him with wet eyes, pleading.
Erik seems taken aback, as his eyes quickly move between Raoul and Christine. His look is one of disagreement, but, as he looks at the two of them, there is a certain calculation in his gaze. He lets out a breath and speaks, his voice rough, "Do you swear that you will marry me? That you'll be my wife, for all time?"
"Yes!" She sobs. Anything to save Raoul. Her own fate doesn't matter anymore, just so long as her love can live. Raoul wants to protest, knowing he would give up his life– even by being burned alive– to save Christine from such a fate. But he cannot. He can hardly breathe, much less speak. His arms have been torched beyond use and have fallen to his sides. The only things keeping him from being completely strangled are the tips of his toes, which are quickly tiring.
Erik thinks for a moment more, and finally speaks, his tone still rough. "Then I'll spare him. I'll let him live, as long you marry me."
Christine lets out a sob of half-relief. "I need.. I need to fetch water, Erik, let me fetch him water!"
"I’ll allow you to,” he says, his voice unusually calm. “But you must return here as my bride. Understood?"
"Yes... anything," she agrees before dashing out of the house on the lake, ripping pieces of her gown to soak in the lake in lieu of a bucket, which does not appear anywhere near her, nor does she have time to find one. She reaches the murky, underground body of water, dipping her hands into the black lake, soaking the fabric like rags, tearing off a whole layer of her skirts and wetting that, then rushes back inside. Still in tears, she falls to her knees, draping the cool, wet fabric over the burning man, who has been cut from the noose while she was out and is now writhing on the floor in flames. Raoul gasps and coughs as the wet fabric covers him, the flames dying down. He gasps again, his breaths coming in sharp, painful breaths as he struggles to stay conscious. The cold fabric against his burning skin keeps him in a state of shock. Christine moves swiftly, trying to put as much of the fabric as she can over Raoul.
Erik stands still, arms crossed, watching the two with a mix of curiosity and disgust.
"I'm so sorry, oh, God," Christine whispers. Raoul wheezes and shudders.
Christine finishes draping the wet cloth onto Raoul, watching the flames smother into smoke, and stands to face Erik.
Erik regards Christine, his eyes cold despite her recent act of love. "We agreed that you would become my bride, in return for sparing him. This is true, is it not?"
"Yes," she whispers, walking closer to Erik. Erik regards her, noting the way she willingly walks toward him, allowing herself to come within his reach– something she would never do only minutes before.
His anger softens a bit, and he speaks again, "Come."
Christine takes another step, then another, until she is nearly nose-to-nose with Erik. She uses every fibre in her body to not look back at Raoul, as much as she desperately wants to.
"Mine," he whispers. Christine can feel him breathe in– almost as if he was smelling her– and slowly breathe out.
Erik reaches a hand between them, and she hesitantly places her fingers into his grasp with a gulp. Closing her eyes, she remembers the laments Erik would cry to her about how no one, not even his mother, would kiss him.
So she kisses him. She grasps his shoulders and crashes their mouths together, unsure of why, but hoping that maybe he will be kinder to her in their future life down here.
Erik is overcome with emotion– his eyes wide; his body stiff. He lets out a surprised huff of breath, his hands shaking as they make their way to hold the small of her back. The bliss of Christine's warm lips pressed against his is drowned out by lingering feelings of anger and sheer shock. He can’t bring himself to enjoy it.
Raoul slowly lifts his head and looks at them, feeling utterly betrayed, but at the same time, knowing that he is at fault, because he could not save Christine before it had come to any of this.
Christine breaks away from Erik, out of breath and horrified. Erik looks at her with teary eyes, wipes his mouth, and shudders away from her. He was so certain that she would hate him, but she kissed him– and suddenly he feels... something. Something different. He realizes that maybe... maybe he doesn't want her. He spent so long preying on her, begging her for love, and that's what made him so happy. But now that she's reciprocating it? It makes his stomach churn for reasons he can't understand. He looks at Raoul, half-dead on the floor, almost asking him for advice. The Vicomte, broken and burned, looks back at him. His eyes switch to look at Christine desperately, silently calling out to her, then back to Erik. Erik notices Raoul looking at him, and he turns his back to him, avoiding his victim’s gaze.
Erik looks at Christine with misty eyes, digging in his pocket for the key to the gate that leads out of the cellars. "Take him– Raoul. Take him with you back across the lake, you know the way, surely, and... leave me. Please." He hands her the rusty key.
Christine gasps with relief, not hesitating or stopping to thank him (for what is there to thank him for?) and runs to Raoul on the floor, cupping the charred, burned skin on his cheeks. She moves to pull him up.
Raoul coughs as Christine helps him get to his feet. "Christine..." he calls out, his voice weak and hoarse and his sight blurring. Christine feels him shiver as he's lifted to his feet. Raoul leans heavily against her, his legs weak.
Erik doesn't stop them. He doesn't even look at Raoul as Christine helps him up.
"Come, my dear. I'll help you out of here." Christine kisses his unmarred temple and throws his arm around her shoulders, acting as a crutch for him. Raoul leans heavily on her, not being able to support himself any longer. He coughs again, his legs shaking, unburnt, but still unstable. Christine's touch is welcome; her support is a rare relief. Raoul looks into Christine's eyes as she helps him out of the house, leaning on her as he goes.
They reach the boat, Christine gently helping Raoul sit in it, then climbing in herself sitting across from him. Raoul slowly sits down, but leans forward, his head pressing into the bodice of Christine’s dress. His whole body is shaky and unstable, and he can't hold his own weight. The smell of ash, smoke, and burnt skin makes the both of them turn up their noses, but Christine pretends not to notice it, as much as it makes her want to lean over and vomit into the lake.
"Lie down, love. I need to row us across, so I can't hold you. But I promise I will be with you until you are in the hands of doctors." She grips the oars.
Raoul nods and lies back in the boat. The motion of the water beneath them makes Raoul cough and shiver in pain. He reaches out to her, looking for her hand once again, desperately seeking her touch.
Christine cannot hold his hand, but looks down at him with a sad sigh. "Rest your head on my lap, dear. Or, if you cannot get up, lay by my feet. I will hold you and caress you as soon as we reach the shore of the Rue Scribe."
Raoul slowly slides toward her and lays his head onto her lap. His head feels hot and feverish, her touch calming him down. Raoul closes his eyes and breathes slowly, trying to remain steady as they push off from shore.
“There we go.” Christine steadily pushes and pulls the oars through the dark water. Raoul groans and shivers, pressing himself further into Christine's lap with a tight grip on the silky fabric. His body is still in pain, and the motion of the water is causing a pins-and-needles sensation in his skin. But Christine’s touch is comforting; her presence a soothing one. Raoul closes his eyes again and breathes slowly, trying to maintain his composure. Christine shifts slightly, causing the boat to rock.
"I'm in so much pain," Raoul murmurs, starting to cry.
"I know," she whispers, the sounds of his cries mixing with the echoes of his screams earlier still ringing in her ears. "We're almost at the shore. And when we're out of here, we'll take you to a hospital and get you help."
Raoul sobs as he hangs onto her for dear life, shaking and trembling in her lap. He can barely even keep himself steady now. He looks absolutely pitiful, and Christine's heart aches for him.
“We’re almost there,” she sighs. “Just… hold on…”