It was a mild winter in Paris thus far. But on a chilly December morning the city of lights was coated in a thick blanket of snow. And a roaring wind gusted through the streets. The storm was so relentless, many Parisian citizens held up shelter inside. Some having no choice, the snow so deep and thick they were barricaded inside.
The remainder still inside the Opera Populaire were included in the latter. Fortunately however, the prestigious opera house would not be losing business over the unpredictable weather. Many staff and performers were given a period of leave due to the coming holiday season. Only a few members of the corps du ballet remained that did not go home or have family to go to.
For Christine the opera was home.
She found herself alone in the dormitories. The other three ballerinas still there were younger and their dormitory a floor below the elder girls. Christine felt a little deflated seeing the weather outside her frost coated window that morning. Raoul had wanted to call on her today for a small get together his family was hosting. But with the weather refusing to lighten, the brunette realised she wasn't going anywhere today.
Christine shivered, rubbing her shoulders. While the Opera Populaire was beautifully crafted inside and out, the dormitories seemed to lack proper insulation.
Being stuck inside all day felt overly stuffy and boring to the brunette. Meg and Madame Giry were liking at home and not reachable during the storm.
But there was someone Christine could pay a visit to. Her heart hurt at the thought of Erik five cellars below all alone, especially at this time of year. Did Erik have any family? She had never asked him such a personal question, the masked genius didn't seem to like talking of his past very much.
She remembered a secret passage Erik had shown her once she had agreed to come back to his home after her first initial visit. Careful to watch her step, Christine creeped through the passage in the wall, the only light source being the small dancing flames of a single candle she carried.
Finally reaching the familiar caverns of the fifth cellar, Christine could see the familiar gondola tied to the grotto entrance by the now closed portcullis. Erik clearly wasn't expecting or likely wanting visitors. The brunette was very surprised however not to hear the familiar bellow of Erik's pipe organ. But the house on the lake was dead silent.
"Erik?" Christine called. "Are you here?"
Given the gondola was still here meant Erik likely hadn't left. But he had travelled through the Rue Scribe passage before, but with the harsh cold weather it was likely blocked off. Christine's shivered, able to see her own breath. If Erik was down here she hoped he was warm. But walking through the parlour room in her search-to which this room was also vacant-he fireplace was cold and empty. Christine took a dying candelabra and rekindled a new flame in the fireplace. The brunette poked the orange embers, watching tiny spits of fire rise as she did so. Setting the pokers down, Christine continued her search. Erik forbade her from entering his room, but still finding no trace of her maestro she knocked.
"Erik?" She called again.
From the other side of the door, very faint she heard a weak groan.
"Erik, is that you?"
Hesitantly she opened the bedroom door. The room was bathed in darkness, Christine opened the door as wide as it would go to let some light inside. She approached the coffin in the centre of the room.
Christine gasped, "Oh Erik!"
Her masked maestro was curled in on himself in the casket, his arms wrapped around his sides. He wasn't wearing his mask or wig but Erik's head was dipped so low she wasn't able to see his face. He was dressed in his night wear, including his robe.
Christine reached in, gently lifting Erik's head so she could place a hand to his forehead. He was as cold as ice to the touch. Christine stepped around to the other side of the coffin, placing a hand on her maestro's back.
"Come on Erik, we need to get you warm." Christine said,
"C-C-Christin-e," Erik mumbled, his teeth chattering. It was as if he just realised she was here.
"Shh it's ok," She cooed in his ear. "I wish you had come for me, I could have helped you earlier."
"E-Erik isn't b-bothered by the c-cold. He t-thought s-sleep was all he needed."
Her arm still wrapped around his shoulder, Christine led them to the parlour where by now a roaring fire was burning in the fireplace. As they entered the brunette could already feel the warmth radiating from the flames.
Sitting Erik down by the fire, he was still shaking like a leaf. He must have been feeling delirious from the cold as he had yet to demand for his mask, or he didn't realise he was not wearing it. Christine had no fear of his face, it was not a pretty sight-at least half of his face wasn't-but she had become accustom to it. But Erik was still so defensive when it came to taking it off, so this time she chose to let him remain ignorant to not having it.
She got up to go to the Louis Phillipe room, in search of some blankets. Coming back, she could see Erik was now fully laying down on the sofa in he room, still shivering as he breathed.
Christine unfolded the blankets, covering her maestro from his neck down to his feet. When she was done the only thing uncovered from the cocoon of blankets she'd made was his head. Sitting next to him, she carefully lifted his head, letting it rest in her lap. She stroked the little wisps of hair he had, she smiled already feeling that Erik was warming up. His body was still trembling, but not as much as he was earlier.
"I'll go make us some tea," Christine said softly.
"W-Wait. Christine." He whispered weakly.
"Yes?"
"Please, stay here just a few moments more."
Christine complied and stayed seated with him.
Erik wrapped the blankets closer around his torso, heaving out a relieved sigh.
Christine smiled down at him, she leaned down to gently kiss his temple.
Suddenly being locked inside all day didn't seem so bad anymore.
