A/N: A short sequel to Twin Hearts, Echoed
Sometimes it's immensely useful, having her soulmate's heartbeat playing as a constant track in the back of her head. She can tell the precise moment when he falls asleep, and slip out to the parlour to read for a time, knowing she'll have ample warning of him waking from a nightmare. She can know exactly how well her careful ministrations are working by how it falters and stutters. She can know when he is on the verge of a breakthrough or a breakdown and when it is best not to disturb him and when he needs her now this instant. She can know a whole host of things just by his heartbeat.
Then there are the other times, when it is a nuisance through and through.
Like right now. When she is due on stage in fifteen minutes to play the lead in the opera that he wrote, and he is here, fretting, his heart pounding fit to burst, drowning out her thoughts and making her own heart race.
She is already dressed, her make-up applied and hair done, and he is sitting on the chaise trembling. She has a good mind to haul Nadir down here and have Erik pulled up to Box Five, but that might only make his heart pound worse and she really cannot have that when she needs to devote her whole attention to her performance.
Instead she kisses him (lightly, so as not to risk smudging anything) and straightens his collar, making a show of being wifely.
"Your heart is pounding." She says it as matter-of-factly, as calmly, as she can, and he looks up at her, his eyes more hazel than gold, and manages a weak smile.
"Speak for yourself."
"Mine is only pounding because yours is." She brushes a piece of lint off his lapel, takes his gloved hand and squeezes it. "Erik, I cannot perform at my best if I hear you panicking in the back of my mind. Everything will be fine if you just calm down. You need to trust me that I can do this."
"I do trust you." His voice is faint, fainter than she has ever heard. "I just—"
"Is it the audience?" She has always found it better to cut to the heart of the matter with him. It is the fastest way to get results. "Are you worried about how they'll respond?"
His eyes dance away, and he nods. "What if they don't like it? I don't think I could bear it."
She strokes a hand through his hair, her heart aching for him. To have gotten so far and now to falter here at the last— "Of course they'll like it." She keeps her voice soft. "They'll love it. Everyone who has heard it already does and this audience will be no different. You have nothing to worry about."
His lips are a thin line, as if he does not believe her, but he nods and his heart is still pounding but not quite as hard.
She kisses him again. "Now. Get yourself up to your box. Have a nip of Nadir's brandy. And if you can't calm down, he has a little laudanum with him and he'll know when to give it to you." She has it all arranged and so help her, but she will not have Erik's anxieties ruin the opening night of his first opera. "Just relax. Everything will be fine, I promise."
He nods, and leans into her, heart still racing faster than she would like, but she cards her fingers through his hair and hugs him, as tight as she dares without wrinkling her costume, and knows that one way or the other, everything will be perfect.
Even if she does find him in her dressing room afterwards, sleeping off the drug.