The Phantom's Shadow (On Hold/Serious Editing In Progress)

An Ode To Shadow

Erik's POV

                By the time I've finished serenading Shadow into a fitful slumber, I'm picking her up out of the boat and carefully walking her up to the bed that had been meant specifically for Christine. As I lay her down, I take note of how peaceful she looks when she's secure in her dream realm, no problems or struggles to bring any sign of stress or discontent upon her face.

     She's beautiful this way.

     I turn away from her for a moment to try and collect my thoughts. So many things need attending to, and yet only one thought remains at the forefront of my mind.

          Shadow loves me. The idea sends shivers of pleasure and repulsion rippling through me. That's ludicrous. She was speaking like a madwoman. She would say anything to get me to stay here and not go through with Don Juan. My mind doesn't agree with this theory. The look in her eyes was far too raw and honest for it to have been a lie. How could she love me with this grotesque infection that I was born with? This face is the reason Christine will not admit that she loves me.

          "Erik. . ." My heart leaps in my throat as I whip around to Shadow's sleeping form.

     Though her eyes are still closed and it's obvious she's asleep, there's no doubting that the sound came from her. My eyebrows furrow, as I wonder if she's having a nightmare.

          "Shadow?" I breathe softly, bending beside the bed to watch over her.

     A long moment of silence follows my question.

          "Erik." She finally responds with a sigh of bliss, a hint of a smile curling at her lips while she rests.

     I gaze at her in bewilderment, wondering what she could be dreaming about to be talking about me in her sleep. Taking a risk, I gingerly brush a lock of hair away from her face, looking at her with conflicted feelings.

          She loves me, but I love Christine. I think, but the words only seem to tangle my sea of emotions even more than they already are. This must be why she was crying that evening on the roof; she understood what it felt like to love someone who didn't return the sentiment.

     My heart goes out to Shadow because, if I know nothing else about how she feels, I understand her emotions as far as her unrequited love is concerned.

     It still appalls me that said unrequited love is myself.

          "Poor child." I sigh, sitting on the side of the bed to watch over her. "So much despair you have gone through." My fingers graze the top of her head hesitantly, before I stroke her hair with a caring hand. "I'm sorry I put you through all of that nonsense with the managers. They are fools to believe everything I say."

     As I say this an idea springs to mind. It is something that will keep Shadow out of the line of fire, and also to make certain the idiots follow my orders, unlike last time.

     Making sure Shadow is still tucked away and with no intention of waking up soon, I swiftly make my way to my makeshift desk area, and briskly grab a quill and a slip of parchment.

               Gentleman,

                    I'm sure you've been wondering as to whether or not your very own Shadow has been my accomplice. I find it insulting that you would believe I need help from anyone. My reasoning behind the name shall now be demonstrated, for your little Shadow shall truly be mine. Unless you allow Christine Daae to play the main role of Amnita in my most recent play, your precious Shadow shall henceforth be held captive with me. Do not disappoint me, gentlemen.