I Can Run But I Cannot Hide

DISCLAIMER: See chapter 1.

A/N: This one's mostly Erik/Mme Giry. Nothing too graphic, though... (At least, in my opinion.)

And should someone be interested, I've written two different versions of this chapter, this R-rated one and another, PG13-rated one, which can be found at ff.net.

Oh, and there'll be chapter 3, too...


CHAPTER 2


It took him almost two years to find the woman he had once called his Angel. The boy - that fop - had hidden all their traces in a way that made even him consider for a moment, if the boy was at least a bit intelligent. He quickly silenced those kind of thoughts, though. He soon found out that Antoinette Giry was trying to track him down, which forced him to change his identity rather often. He would use a different name every week. Every week he would wear a different mask. It was highly stressful, even to him. Yet, he had to go on. He would have to have his revenge.


If he could not have her, no-one else would.


It had become quite obvious to him that he could never have her. Thus, he could not allow anyone else to have her.


When he finally found the de Chagnys, he decided not to act too quickly. He followed her for days. He could tell that she knew that something was out of its place. After a couple of days, she began to glance behind her. Eventually, she would start to fear the darkness. He actually heard her telling her husband one night as they were about to go to sleep that she was feeling as if someone was haunting her. He laughed at her choice of words. Who would be a better person to haunt her than he, the infamous Phantom of the Opera, the man who was often referred to as a demon and a beast.


Not that she would ever use such names when talking about him, though. In the matter of fact, he never heard them talk about him or even mention him. It seemed as if they wanted to forget everything about Paris, the Opera and its Ghost.


He waited, patiently, for two weeks. He could not take any kind of risks, he only had this one change. He had already found out several ways to sneak into the house without anyone seeing him. Then, one night, he heard something that made his heart jump. The boy told his wife that he would have to leave for Paris for a couple of days. She begged him to take her along, telling him how much she was afraid. He ignored her wishes, pleas and prayers. In the shadows, the Phantom realized that it would be his moment, the moment of his revenge. He would have to have everything ready for the night.


Just one night before he would reveal his existence to the woman, he heard a knock from the door of his room. Had he not told the inn-keeper to not to allow any visitors come to his room if he wanted to keep his life? He hissed curses and went to the door, ripping it open.


A heavy silence fell into the room as they stared at each other, the mix-matched pair of eyes meeting a pair of brown ones, the Phantom meeting the ballet mistress, the Devil's Child meeting Antoinette Giry. She did not wait for him to invite her in but walked straight into the room.
"What are you doing here, Antoinette?" he asked then, his voice as sweet as it had ever been. He had never realized that she was that close to finding him.
"I know what you are up to," she told him calmly, turning her back to him as she hung her coat. "I have come to stop you."
He actually chuckled at that, the mirth in his voice surprising her slightly.
"My dear Antoinette," he said in a voice that was merely above whisper. "My dear, dear Antoinette. I have missed your company."
She had not forgotten the power his voice held but she now understood that she had underestimated it. She gulped a bit uneasily as he set his gloved hand on her shoulder, stepping closer to her, practically locking her back against his chest.
She could now feel his breathing caress her neck as he whispered to her, "But you should not have come, Antoinette, not tonight."
The combination of hearing his voice and feeling his body were intoxicating and she quickly began to realize that she was completely on his mercy, as he began to caress her neck with his lips, she had neither strength nor will to resist him.


She could vaguely remember that she had come here for a reason but quickly forgot it, when she heard his whispers.
"It has always been you, whom I have wanted, Antoinette."
He began to undress her agonizingly slowly.
"It has always been you, ever since the night when you hid me into the Opera House."
He bit her neck and then soothed the pain with his tongue.
"It has always been you, who has taken care of me."
She tried to turn around and face him but he firmly held her still.
"Only you, Antoinette."
She could feel his swollen manhood press against the small of her back and let out a strangled sight.
"Only you, Antoinette."
He gently rid her of the rest of her clothes and let his hands found her breasts. She could feel her heart's beating increase to such levels that she began to worry that it might actually burst out of her chest.
"It was not until you married that man that I realized that you might not feel the same."
She pressed herself more tightly against him as he continued to caress her with the certainty of an old lover.
"Then you had a baby. Little Meg would take you even further away from me."
His hand sneaked in between her thighs and found the very center of her.
"I watched from afar as you mourned the death of your husband. God, how I wanted to come to comfort you."
His fingers found her nub and began to circle it, slowly, the sensation driving her slowly mad.
"God, how I wanted you then, Antoinette," he whispered, his hands continuing to bring her closer and closer to the edge.
It wasn't until then that she allowed her to turn around and face him.
"I am here now," she told him then with a heavy voice. "I am here now for you to take."
He let out a growl and pushed her against the wall, his eyes never leaving hers.
"Are you really giving yourself to me, Antoinette? Are you really giving yourself to a demon?"
"You are neither demon nor an angel," she told him, her voice hushed. "You are a man."
He held her up between the cold stone wall and his warm body and she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist. Somehow, he had managed to undress his pants. She did not know how exactly but she was way past caring as he pushed inside her with a single stroke, burying himself into her warm and wet tightness. They moaned at the feeling in unison. She reached for his mask, threw it on the floor and kissed his lips, passionately, as he began to move within her.


He woke up a couple of hours later in the bed, Antoinette Giry's warm, naked body wrapped around his. He got up, carefully not to wake her up, and got dressed. When she had showed up at the door, he had managed to tell her that she should not have come, before the things got out of the control. He had meant it. He was very fond of the former ballet mistress, one might even use the phrase "in love". Yet, he did not live for love, not anymore. Antoinette had managed to distract his thoughts for a moment but he now understood even more clearly that he had nothing else left but his revenge. He softly went through his belongings and finally found what he was looking for. With a needle and a vial in his hand, he went back to the bed, where she was still sleeping. Without allowing himself to think about it more, he quickly filled the needle and injected the woman in front of him.


That, of course, woke her up. She immediately realized, what he had done, and met his gaze, her eyes full of wonder as the first spasm shook her slender frame.
"I am sorry, my dear Antoinette," he told her, gathering her into his arms. "You really should not have come."
"But last night you said..." Another spasm shook her and he held her even tighter against himself.
"I might have lied to you," he admitted, stroking her hair gently.
"Why?" Her heart was pounding and it was hard to breath.
"You betrayed me, Antoinette, that night two years ago. You should have known better."


He held her for almost an hour after she had passed away. Finally, he settled her body back under the sheets and whispered an apology. When the sun set, he was inside the de Chagny estate, ready to have his revenge.