Erik is NOT Dead (Phantom of the Opera one-shots)

Good in a Dark Angel

Author's Note:

Dear Readers,

For this one-shot imagine, Erik never let Christine go like he did at the end of the book. Also, this is solely book-based.

If you read through this and think, "WHERE HAS SARAH'S MIND GONE??????????" I've been reading too many phanfictions on Fanfiction.net. WAY too many................ But, then, come to think of it, is is possible for a phan to read too many phanfictions?

Well, I'll leave you to enjoy this. I don't know if this really happened but so very little is known about Gustave Daae (or, I don't know much about him) that I thought I would have a little fun. MUHAHAHA

sarahlet2999

P.S. The photo I used is not mine. It belongs to whoever did it. I wish I could draw my own to use (it can be so hard to find the perfect picture) but I couldn't draw if my own life depended on it. I'm lucky to get a nice looking stick figure. :(.

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Christine's POV:

The carriage rolled along gently and I shifted slightly in my seat. I looked across to the other side of the carriage and quickly looked away. My captor who called himself my husband sat quietly in the half-light of the waning evening.

It was the anniversary of my father's death and I had begged Erik to let me see his grave. My tears were my only weapon against him as he couldn't resist them. He had been almost adamant about me not leaving the lair but finally consented.

Now, we were on our way to the grave. I tried not to look at him but his golden eyes seemed to burn a hole into me no matter where I looked. I shivered slightly under their unending gaze.

"Is Erik's wife cold?" He asked quietly with that angelic voice. I glanced up at him and shook my head.

"No, I am not." He nodded but I couldn't see what he thought of my words, that white mask which covered his whole face forbade me knowing his emotions.

"Thank you again, Erik." I said softly just so I could hear some other noise than the movement of the carriage. He shrugged.

"Erik cannot resist Christine when she cries. He doesn't like letting her free but it means so much to her." Even though I had gotten used to his use of third person when referring even to me, it still took me a moment to understand him.

"It does mean a lot to me." Again, we fell silent. My captor/husband wasn't the most talkative person in the world. Why would he be talkative? You don't exactly promote conversation that often! A voice taunted in my head. I shook my head to try to clear it.

I could feel a shift in Erik's eyes, they took on a concerned look instead of the cold observational look they normally had. I shivered again but before Erik could inquire about my temperature, we arrived at the cemetery.

The carriage halted and I stepped out alone. I had made him swear to let me go alone. I swore on my father's soul I wouldn't run. I knew better than that. Erik would never stop until he found me. I could never escape such a genius.

I closed the carriage door behind me and walked through the wrought iron gate that led into the cemetery. My feet trudged through the snow and I knew my skirts would be soaked when I was done.

It wasn't long before I arrived at his grave. It wasn't a large grave. We hadn't been able to afford something so fancy.

I ran my hand over the icy stone and let my mind wander. I wasn't sure what to say so I said what was on my heart.