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Audacious

"We've past the point of no return."

Their voice faded with the music into nothing, leaving Christine with her unmerciful thoughts. Now. Now she has to expose him as they arranged with Raoul and they'd kill him. Right in front of her, probably. A shudder worked its way down on her spine. She knew he was caressing her body yet she ceased to feel the movement of his hands on her while her mind raced with her frantic thoughts. She was well aware what her Angel – or rather the Phantom – did but she still didn't want him dead. No, nothing could be farther from the truth. The way she felt in his arms was indescribable – and it felt marvelous; but she was constantly reminded of her murderous task by the presence of the gendarmes around them. If she'd complete that forced role she had she'd be just as a murderer as he was – and even worse, because he trusted her.

Yet, was there any chance for her to do anything else? She didn't know, she still didn't know though she tried to find any other option since Raoul told her what she had to do. How tired she was of fighting! Always running from her once gentle Angel. Now she had the chance to get rid of him – but she didn't want that anymore and his death never meant her that freedom what Raoul expected from that horrible act. How could it? From the very beginning, she was against that plan but now it seemed she had little chance to save him from death. And even if he wasn't going to be executed she'd never see him again, she was sure of that; Raoul would arrange her life that she'd never have to worry about being haunted by her past.

She realized with a start that the only place she wanted to be was in the safety of her Angel's arms. She knew the thought was blasphemous and that she shouldn't feel so yet the feeling remained, constantly reminding her that it was too late.

Softly he began to sing again, but his words weren't about seduction, about consummating the love they shared, they were about… loneliness, about unrequited love and Christine rather felt than understood his words; each one of the notes danced beneath her skin, reaching her heart and finding their home there. He turned them to face each other while he was holding her hands clasped between his and she willingly participated, though in her hazy mind she couldn't find herself to care about what he did with her. Once again, she fell under the spell of his voice but she didn't care. Part of her nonchalance was simply defiance against the cruel plan she half-heartedly consented to participate, but the biggest part of it was the affection she felt for her Angel.

These four lines were able to do what the earlier, explicit ones couldn't: they woke in her the feelings she dared not to accept before as her own, the wish for belong to somebody. Entirely, not just by sweet memories of the past or by the legal bond of law, but by sharing her life, her thoughts, her soul with another. Never before did she feel so, and now she feared she would never have that life she envisioned at his words. If she continued on with the task Raoul had given to her she wouldn't experience that ever…

Somewhere during her pondering he stopped singing and now was looking at her with expecting eyes.

"Was this a marriage proposal?" She whispered in her wavering tone when she found her voice to speak.

He had to fight very hard to say something at all and it took him two attempts to surmount the lump in his throat. She was supposed to play part in that ridiculously simple plan to catch him but her surrender wavered his earlier confidence in her betrayal. Why did she act as unsure? She knew what she had to do - he heard how many times that fool repeated her what she was expected to do - and yet she seemed so frightened. She couldn't be scared of him – she eagerly accepted his timid touch on her hands. But then why was she trembling so violently?

"It was," he managed to whisper finally.

"Then my answer is yes."

Yes, she said yes. He had to repeat this in his head a couple of times until it registered with his mind, and before he could stop it he'd already pulled his ring from his finger to slide it on hers. A tear run down her face and he almost pulled back his hand.

"You know why I'm here, don't you?" She asked him, her voice laced with unshed tears. Without thinking he lifted his hand and wiped away that teardrop, all the while taking great pleasure from the fact that she didn't shy away from his touch as he expected.

"I know. Didn't you realize that I know about everything what happens it this opera house?"

"And you still came. Why?"

"To be with you."

His explanation was so simple yet it showed her the true extent of his love. She could have sobbed from the perception that he would eagerly die just to spend his last moments with her – or she could come out with a plan to prevent these moments to be his last ones. She hastily wiped the remaining tears from her eyes. For once, she'd be strong.

Down in the pit, Monsieur Reyer chose that very moment to continue the opera. That script was unusual, to say the very least, but it didn't contain that much silence in it, not to mention those earlier foreign lines why he eventually had to stop! Couldn't those two fools up there just stick to their parts? He wouldn't let them ruin the performance, horrible as it was, so he angrily instructed the orchestra to continue.

"Stay behind me," she ordered him suddenly.

"What?"

"They want to kill you but they won't shoot at me."

"That's ridiculous; I won't allow you to risk your life for mine."

"They won't shoot at me. Please."

"We can leave in this very instant, you know that, right?"

"I know. But Raoul would come after us and I don't want that."

"I'm quite capable to protect you or myself," he snapped, his voice cold as ice but it didn't lessen her steadiness.

"I know. But I don't want you to kill him. I know that you could and that you will, but I don't want that."

"Then what do you want?"

"To leave without making anybody die for me. Please."

Her desperate voice finally convinced him, so reluctantly and very slowly he moved behind her. She promised to marry him and there was no way he'd deny the wish of his soon-to-be wife.

"Touch me," she commanded as she leaned her back to his chest.

"What? What are you doing?"

"It seems M. Reyer decided to finish this scene."

"So?" He asked distractedly as images of his hands on her body flashed before his eyes.

"We have to continue as it's written in the script so we won't wake the suspicion of the audience… though I fear we're a little late with that," she explained as she thought back that only minutes earlier he asked her to marry him in front of those people; they must have known already that that wasn't part of the opera. Hopefully they could be convinced otherwise.

"Why can't we just leave?" He argued, hardly resisting the urge to do as she asked.

"I have to convince Raoul that I'm going with you on my free will so that he won't follow us."

"He would believe you just because you finish this scene?"

"He will," she said determinedly. "Touch me."

"Do you have a plan at all?" He queried while placing tentative hands on her bare shoulders and she needed a couple of moments to collect her thoughts before she could speak again. He touched her before… but not like this. This feeling was new and thrilling, and though it remained almost proper it was not at all like Raoul's innocent caresses. Then she felt like a proper young lady but now she was a woman of passion, a temptress, who knows what she wants and fights for it. Never before had she felt her character as close to her as she felt it right now.

"At the end of this scene… there's a brief moment when the lights will go out… we can disappear in that darkness without addressing them where to begin the search for us," she began uncertainly, not being able to pay attention to anything else than the feeling of his skin on hers and the change in his breathing. Should she feel this consumed by that simple touch? It was certainly inappropriate.

"Since when have you grown so fond of darkness?" He teased as he slid his hands from her shoulders down on her arms and then awkwardly captured her hands in his. Hard as she tried she still wasn't able to catch that deep sigh coming from her throat.

"Since I realized that I loved you." The words left her lips without thinking and though first she was taken aback, she didn't want to retract it. Now she felt much better that she openly accepted her suppressed wish, though the consequences of it still frightened her. As did his sudden stop in his movements.

"You… love me?"

"I do," she breathed, basking in the sensation how his warm breath caressed her ear. "Don't stop," she continued blushingly, not being able to tell that the reason beyond her order was disappointment or fear of loosing her game.

"So what is your plan?" He slid one arm around her waist and pulled her closer, still not believing that he could touch her everywhere – since they were following his instructions, written in the script. He never believed they would perform it as he'd imagined it in his head – and that it would feel this uncomfortable how her hands on his arm made him feel as she was lost in his embrace.

"I can't tell you…" His other hand went to her curls, gently pulling away her hair from her neck. "… yet," she breathed.

"You're enjoying this," he growled. "Torturing me."

"You can't say you're not." She leaned her head back on his shoulder and could hardly swallow a very inappropriate moan at the feeling of his hands tightening possessively on her waist and she lifted a trembling hand to touch his neck. It was impossible for him not to kiss her wrist while capturing her hand in his; then he slid his palm up on her inner arm then down again. Christine knew she had to watch the gendarmes whether they'd try to approach them but for a moment it was impossible to even think about anything else than the stroking hands on her body.

"Exactly how long is this scene?" He asked her through clenched teeth, sliding his hands down on her sides. When he felt her shudder as he barely grazed the sides of her breasts he almost gave in the temptation to cup them into his palms but his fear that maybe she's just pretending to enjoy his touches prevented him from that. She may have said yes earlier but to accept his proposal and his forward touches was impossible to believe.

"It's your opera," she reminded him playfully, all of her previous restraint gone. "You should know that," she finished by kissing softly his neck just behind his ear and heard his low moan in reply. She wondered so many times earlier how did it feel to make love and now she imagined that it must feel the same as she felt right now. And if offering her love, her soul to her Angel - or the Phantom; she wasn't sure who he was anymore - could make her feel that burning beneath her skin, in the back of her head, near her stomach and on the tips of her fingers than she would succumb to that soaring sensation she felt in her heart, what made her throat tighten and begged for her never to leave him again.

"I can't do this much longer," he whispered while he folded both of his arms around her soft body, lightly tracing the curves of her waist and she grabbed both of his hands, pulling him even closer. The low murmur of the indignant audience was nothing more than a blurred whisper in her ears and seemingly he didn't care about that, either.

"You don't have to… it's almost over." She glanced up at box 5 worriedly and seeing Raoul's dumbfounded expression made her feel a slight remorse. She really didn't want to do this to him but he let her no other choice. It was him who insisted her to take part in the Phantom's opera, ignoring her reasons why she didn't want to. He wanted her to help them to kill the Phantom – her Angel – though she made it quite clear to Raoul that she didn't want him dead. No, she wouldn't feel it was her fault what made Raoul feel betrayed.

"Don't step away from me," she told him as she turned in her Angel's embrace. The finishing accords of that particular scene started to fade, indicating that it was her last chance to make Raoul believe her. Now or never. Taking a deep breath she whispered "Please, forgive me," then tore away her Angel's mask and kissed him passionately. In that instant everything went black and as they fall through a nearby trapdoor she still saw vividly her former fiancée's expression.

Treachery.

-o-

She could hardly see a thing in the dimly lit tunnels but the unleashed anger in his burning eyes was more than enough. His grip on her left her fighting for air and she feared the moment he'd erupt in furious shouting. As soon as they reached the floor his mounting temper made her cower away from him until her back hit the cold stone wall while he towered over her.

"How could you?" He roared and she cringed. "I've trusted you!"

"Please don't… I wanted to save your life," she whimpered, her shaking hands seeking support on clammy stones.

"You betrayed me!"

"I didn't. It's him who I betrayed. I…"

"Enough!" The echo of that solitary word reverberated from the walls of the desolated alleys and she shuddered. He couldn't bear to see the quickly appearing fear in her eyes and he turned away from her, ashamed, and vigorously marched into the darkness. It didn't matter where he headed, just away from her where he wouldn't be able to disappoint her, to hurt her. But feeling a light touch on his shoulder stopped him before he had the chance to disappear and he whirled around.

"What?" He really had no idea why she still wanted to speak with him, let alone touch him.

"I want to finish what we started on-stage."