Tremulous and Tender

BY : NataliaV
Category: M through R > Phantom of the Opera
Dragon prints: 7330
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera movie(s), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Part: 6/?
Summary, Disclaimer, Etc. can be found in the first chapter.
Thank You: Forever and a day to Kelsey and Sarah, the most wonderful betas a gal can have!
Author Note: I should have chapter seven up Wednesday night/Thursday morning. Sorry! That’s the soonest I can get it up… stupid work and school. Grrr. :) Oh! And Yea! to PotO for it's three Academy nods!

Erik had been so hypnotized by the feel of Christine’s caress that he never once thought to be on guard.

He didn’t even realize she’d taken his mask off until he’d heard her gasp and jerk away from him. When the cool air of his underground lair hit his face, he sprang from the bench, knocking it down. He whirled away from her and slapped a hand over the right side of his face.

“Damn you!” he roared, glaring at her. She was curled on the floor. Her eyes were wide and filled with tears. Clutched to her chest was his mask.

“You little prying Pandora! You little demon!” He crouched down in front of her, grasping her hands in one of his, pulling her up against him. “This is what you wanted to see!”

She shook her head, tears falling to the Persian rug underneath them. His own tears were falling; tears of hate and sadness and torment and anger.

Why did she have to see? Why couldn’t she have left well enough alone?

“Curse you! You little lying Delilah! You little viper!” Still holding her wrists, he gripped her chin with the other, forcing her to look at him. “Now you cannot ever be free.” Her eyes, which had been shut, opened fleetingly.

“Damn you.” He let go of her and stalked away. “Curse you.” He covered his face with his hand once again.

He sat down on the floor a few feet from her. His fingers felt the accursed deformation over the right side of his face. He felt the bones, the thin, leathery skin pulled taught over them, splotched yellowy green. He felt his face; the thing of nightmares to those who’d had the misfortune of seeing it. He felt the face which forced him to live in shadows.

He felt the face which his mother had loathed.

Now it would be the face that would forever keep Christine from loving him.

He tried to compose himself. He would have to get his mask back from her or get another from his collection. He took a couple of deep, shuddering breaths, willing his tears to stop.

It had been so long since he had actually cried. The last time had been in front of his mother.

He practically jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned a little to see Christine holding out his mask.

Tears coursed down her cheeks still and she was staring at him with mixture of pity and fear. Of course she would fear him. His hideous, deformed face, with its death like skin and hallowed out eye was something to be feared.

He took his mask and turned fully away from her, sliding it back on. It was a few minutes before he stood. She hadn’t moved an inch.

“It’s late. You need your rest,” he said shortly, not looking at her as he walked around her.

His anger, though diminished, had not ebbed. In his show of anger at her betrayal, he snuffed the few candles in the room before leaving his angel in the darkness.


Erik lay in his coffin for sometime, listening to Christine’s sobbing. It wasn’t long before her sobs eventually tapered off and she fell asleep.

It had taken her sometime to get to her room after he’d left her. He had been tempted to go out and help her. Guilt at leaving her there ate at him. But his anger was stronger. Besides, if she couldn’t bring herself to call for his assistance, why should he?

He’d taken some morphine, hoping it would help sleep come. The sweet drug could do nothing for the pain he felt in his heart.

“Christine,” he sighed.

He wished he’d never shown himself to her. He could have used his abilities to make her forget, at least for a while, that she’d figured out he was a man and not the Angel of Music.

He could still feel her perfect hands roaming over his face and chest. A most bittersweet hand the fates had dealt him, to have that memory before she decided never to see him again, which no doubt would happen.

He’d told her she’d never be free, and it was true. He would love her forever. Those chains would bind her, even if she were a thousand miles away. Even after he died.

And die he would. Once his masterpiece was done, by nature or his own hand, he would die.

Her reaction made him remember. He’d forgotten during those past few dreamlike days. Her sweet attention and caring would be over now that she’d seen.

He would have no reason left to live if he had her fear and disgust.

Review Responses: Forgive my weirdness… I’m inna punchy mood. I have learned one important thing whilst writing this: Reviews are very, very bad for my ego (as in it’s my head’s getting bigger) and sanity (as in I’m getting crazier)… (well, that and you should never write smut at work… that leads to badness!) Lol.

Chapter Four


Yep! No Raoul yet. I hope it wasn’t too sweet! I don’t want anyone getting cavities on me just yet! ;) Anyway, I’m okay with him being old… I have a yen for older men! And we all know he can move darn fast!

*Does a happy dance* I’ve got my very own Rileywolf-In-A-Box™! Yay! Angst is good, yes, but I loves me some sap. At any rate that’s what I seem to write best. Haha.

I’m kinda if-y about the story, but I’ve got a ficclet almost done that I’ll send your way Friday-ish, that cool?


*wraps rope around Skimbleshanks legs* Don’t float away! Wouldn’t it be wonderful to have him sing for you whenever???? Oh, if wishes were horses, I’d have a buckin’ bronco… *blinks* er… ehem… LOL! *goes off to find a boat for the moat*

Angel Marie

Sorry, sorry! You can go back to your own head. Lol. Please finish your story. J’taime “The Flames Which Consume Us” and “Little Delilah”, I’m excited to see where it’s going! (I’m just very bad and lazy and never review… *pouts*).

I’ve got a bunch a chapters from my betas (yeah, I got two, hehe), so I should be updating regularly-ish, so as to not leave you hanging!

Chapter Five


*laughs evilly* I’m not going to update ever again! Muwhahahahahahahaha…. *starts choking on evil laugh*. Er, um, yeah. Just Kidding!

Lol, it was sweet, wasn’t it? All good things must… you know. And Christine’s damn cat curiosity is always getting her into trouble, innit?

Wraith of Erik is scary… in a damn sexy way! *winks* I love all the emotion Gerry manages to put into it. And for atmosphere, I’d only listen to that song, over and over and over and over and over and… okay, starting to feel like Pee-Wee Herman (omg, not only did I date myself, but on something incredibly geeky!).

And I do have fun writing it! I haven’t popped out a multi-chap. fic as quickly as I have this one! I’m so glad you’re enjoying it too!

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