Chapter two
An hour later a light opened up at the end of the tunnel and Christine and Erik emerged hand-in-hand from the darkness. Blinking in the sudden light cast by the blazing fire of the opera house, Erik led Christine to a dark alley to the right of the Opera. Together they turned back to watch it burn, both seeing their past among the flames. Firemen had long since given up on the blaze and sat gloomily near their fire carriages, saying what a shame it was to lose such a famous beauty. A pity for Paris, they said. But Erik merely saw his years of hiding melting away. His future lay with Christine, and he was content to watch his lonely past burn. Christine also saw loneliness in the desecrated Opera, but she also saw love and happiness. Here, she had sang to cheering crowds; had roses launched upon the stage to adorn her feet. Here, she had met Meg and Madame Giry, and she had prayed to her father. Would she ever sing again to such thunderous applause? Would she ever feel the same connection to her father? She blinked away a tear and turned away, resting her head on Erik's shoulder.
"Don't worry," He said softly, as if reading her mind, "Nothing will stop our music. We must simply find somewhere else to make it."
Christine smiled and kissed him on his exposed cheek. He smiled at her and took her hand gently in his.
"Let's go," he said, "There have been enough tears tonight."
She nodded and followed him out of the alley. Despite the roaring fire, many of the streets were nearly deserted, and they went several streets before seeing anyone. But as they rounded a corner, police torches flashed up ahead, and Erik pulled Christine quickly into a tiny, filthy alley. He hurriedly guided her to the middle of it and leaned against the wall of stone, pressing Christine tightly to him. She looked up at him with wide eyes, but said nothing. She wondered what would happen when they flashed the light into their alley. Erik's mask was a dead giveaway. Nearly all of Paris must have heard about him by now. They'd take him to prison for murder, maybe even arson. Would Erik be forced to kill again for their protection? Even though she knew that it might be necessary, she didn't know if she could watch him do it. She heard the policemen's footsteps getting closer, their voices louder. Erik shifted Christine so that she stood behind him against the wall, furthest from the approaching danger. He ran his hand reassuringly down her arm before resting it, readily, on the hilt of his sword. Christine closed her eyes. She could hear the police clearly now, and focused entirely on their words and footsteps.
"This is crazy," One of them said irritably. "There's nothing here, we've been searching all night. He's probably dead by now."
His companion answered, "Yes, hopefully he is. And I can't imagine that he would venture out into the city anyway. The people who were at the Opera said that his face was terrifying, even from the back of the room."
Christine realized that they were talking about the phantom. She felt herself burn with anger at their cruelty. How dare they speak of her Erik like he had no soul! He shifted uncomfortably beside her, but she kept her eyes firmly closed.
"After we check this street we should go grab a drink," the first officer said. The second man chuckled.
Quite suddenly, Christine got a crazy idea. Without considering the dangers, she ran out of the alley, straight at the officers, shrieking for help.
"Officer!" She cried, "Please help me!" She nearly ran into one of them, and clung to his uniform hysterically.
"Come now, miss, what's the matter?" The second man asked in a bored voice.
"There was a man in a mask chasing me near the Opera, I couldn't get away. He just kept closing in- I was so scared. I think I might have lost him now, but it was horrible, he was shouting such terrifying things!" She buried her face in her hands, and shook her shoulders as if she were crying.
The officers looked at her with renewed interest. "Did you say a man in a mask?" One of them asked her.
"Yes," she practically shrieked, "A mask that only covered half of his face!"
The second officer grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. "Shut up girl! You're all right. Where was this man last?"
Christine thought quickly, and said, "Almost three streets over. I don't think he liked being too far from the Opera house."
The officers looked at one another triumphantly, no doubt imagining the bonuses they would receive such an important arrest. The first officer took off running in the direction Christine mentioned. The second took a moment to look at her again and say, "Thank you miss. We'll catch him for you."
"It was the phantom that they're all talking about, wasn't it?" She asked in a small voice.
"Yes, miss, we think so. Run along home now." And then he was off too, and soon out of sight.
Christine let out a huge sigh of relief. She turned towards the alley and beckoned for Erik to come out. Nothing happened. Frowning slightly, she walked to the edge of the dark alley and peered inside it, searching for the dim outline of his mask, but there was nothing. She felt her heart begin to pound furiously.
"Erik?" She called, panic creeping into her voice. No one answered.
Then, a voice said from behind her, "I'm right here."
She whirled around and saw Erik striding towards her from across the street. He was smiling.
"How'd you get all the way over there?" She asked, bewildered.
"I'm good at sneaking." He replied with a grin. "You were wonderful. I almost believed you myself."
Then his smile dimmed slightly and he looked down. "For a moment, I thought that you had decided to leave me," he said quietly. But then he looked up at her again and she saw a beaming happiness in his eyes. He held out his hand to her and she took it, relieved that the danger had passed.
"Where are we going, Erik?" She asked in a low voice.
"My father's house." He replied. She looked at him in amazement.
"Your father?" She asked, disbelieving.
"Yes. I'll explain when we get there," he said, not dismissing her, but moving on to a more comfortable topic.
"It's not far from here," he added.
Trying to ease his tension, Christine said, "I seem to be hearing that a lot tonight." She smiled gently, aware that Erik was still unused to her company in anything but singing lessons. She hoped that he would gain more self-consciousness once he figured out that she loved everything about him. Her mind suddenly flashed to the faces of two dead men. She closed her mind firmly to those thoughts and focused on Erik's eyes, which were looking around to make sure that there were no more surprises up ahead.
Two streets and ten minutes later, they were standing in front of a small brick house with a blue door. A tiny picket fence surrounded a garden pf weeds. Erik led Christine up three steps and took a little gold key from his pocket that she vaguely remembered seeing at the Opera. It felt like lifetimes ago. Erik looked down at the little key in his hand, then at Christine.
"I'm sorry," He said softly, "I haven't been here since I was a child. It's very unsettling."
Christine was touched by the vulnerability in his voice. She reached down and took the key from him, then hugged him tightly.
"It will be all right," she said brightly, and then looked up at him. He took the opportunity that he'd been waiting for and kissed her. His arms wrapped around her waist and pressed her to him. He held onto him tightly with one hand and sank her other into his soft black hair. Moments passed unnoticed, and they could hear nothing except for their pounding hearts and urgent breaths. Erik felt Christine rock against him, and feelings he'd long denied rushed to the surface. Her soft, feminine scent surrounded him, and he felt like he was drowning. Her lips rose to meet his more urgently and with fewer pauses. Sensing the building of some great and unknown power, Erik clung to her, kissing her with long, drugging strokes. Breathless, he dragged himself from her tantalizing mouth and buried his face in the soft skin of her neck. She sighed softly and he took that for encouragement. Softly, he kissed the hollow of her shoulder, then made small circles there with his tongue. He slowly moved up her neck and around her jaw line, then moved away and looked down at her. Christine's eyes were closed and she whimpered softly, reaching for him with a trembling hand. He took her hand within his large one and tucked his other underneath her chin. She opened her eyes at his touch and looked slightly dazed.
"What's wrong?" She asked. She looked hurt, and it was all Erik could do to keep from kissing her again. He wasn't an experienced man- what woman would let someone with a face like his touch her- and yet, Christine looked so radiant that he knew that he wanted more of her. He just wasn't sure how it would happen, or when. He knew the next logical step, but he didn't know how to enact it exactly, and he was sure that someone as innocent as Christine didn't either. He took a deep breath to calm himself.
"Nothing is wrong, Christine." He said. "I just think that we need to get inside."
"Right." She moved in front of him and stepped up to the door. He couldn't help but look at her as she gently placed the key in the lock. She looked back at him, as if for reassurance, and Erik nodded at her, to tell her that it was okay. She turned the key to the right, heard a click, and the door slid open a couple of inches. It was dark inside.
"There should be a lamp near the door, on top of a wooden table." Erik said.
Christine extended her arms in front of her and felt for a table near the door. For a few seconds she touched nothing but air, but then cold wood grazed her fingertips. She felt along the edge of the table until the cool brass base of a lamp touched her arm. She picked it up carefully and turned the knob on the side. The oil inside the lamp sloshed slightly as she handled the lamp; finally it lit. She took a few more steps into the house so that Erik could come in. He hesitated for a moment, then set his mouth firmly and stepped inside. He closed and locked the door behind him, and after taking the gold key from his Christine, placed gently back into his pocket. Christine directed the lamp around the walls of the room so that she could see the furniture. The walls were wallpapered with tiny red flowers, and the floor was carpeted in a matching dark red. What appeared to be couches chairs lurked underneath dusty white sheets like ghosts.
The adjoining room was a kitchen, with a large brick fireplace and round, wooden table with three chairs around it. An old, rickety high chair was folded up against the wall. The floor was made of wood and it was incredibly dusty. Each step left their footprints on it, and their cloaks left long, dragging marks. The walls of this room were a dull yellow. A wooden cabinet and counter stood to the right of the fireplace. Christine opened it carefully and saw porcelain plates and bowls stacked neatly inside. There were no other rooms.
Christine looked to Erik, confused. Surely there must be at least a bedroom and a bath. Smiling, Erik took her hand and guided her to a door in the living room that she had assumed was a closet. But when Erik opened it, it revealed eight wooden stairs leading up to a second floor. He took the lamp and went first, shining the light into the first room on the right. It was plain, containing only a large bed with a heavy wooden headboard. The walls were white, and there was a small window with red curtains pulled back that faced the street.
Right across from that room was a modern bathroom, with a large club-footed tub and a chain toilet. There was no mirror, only a large painting of red roses. When she leaned in to inspect it, Christine saw it was signed with deft hand in swirling letters, Erik. She looked up at him, startled, but he just looked into her eyes with a serious sadness that left her speechless. He moved down the hall to the next room, and she followed silently. This one contained a grand piano and several music stands, as well as a folded up painting easel. Christine gasped when she saw a violin case sitting propped up against the wall, thinking instantly of her father.
"This was my favorite room." Erik said softly, and Christine turned around to face him. "I'll sleep in here," he continued, "And you can have the bed in the bedroom down the hall."
Christine looked down, embarrassed. "But," she said slowly, "it's a big bed Erik, and I'd be scared to be alone. Stay with me?" She held out her hand to him. He looked at it for a few seconds, then took it, and they walked back to the bedroom.
Erik set the lamp on the floor and pulled off his heavy cloak, draping it across the headboard. He unbuckled his sword and set it upright against the wall, within arms reach of the bed. Christine took off her cloak as well, and draped it on top of his. They stood there awkwardly for a minute, until Christine laid down on the right side of the bed and beckoned for Erik to join her. Shaking, he crawled up beside her, but did not touch her. They both looked at the ceiling.
"Erik," she said, reaching for his hand, "I'm so happy right now. I still cannot believe that this all happened."
She turned on her side to look at him, and let go of his hand so that she could touch his face. He nuzzled into her palm a bit, and looked up at her adoringly.
"Christine," he said honestly, "I never though that I would ever be this happy. I do not think that I deserve to be this happy. But please, reconsider your decision. I could live for years off of the mere memory of this night with you. Don't stay with me out of pity, you will end up resenting me, and I can't even stand the thought of that."
He fixed his eyes back on the ceiling, determined not to see the relief that he thought would wash over her face at his words.
"Oh Erik," she sighed, "How can I make you understand?" She turned her face so that he was forced to look at her. "I'm not leaving. I want to be with you. I love you so much; I could never resent you."
She leaned in slowly to kiss him, but hovered just inches away from his lips. Making him realize that if he wanted to kiss her, he had to trust her intentions enough to make the first move on his own. He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand and she closed her eyes. His lips were trembling and unsure, but once they met hers, all doubt vanished. He knew that this was where he was meant to be. The awkwardness between them was gone and Christine pressed herself against him, making him groan. She smiled against his lips and pressed again. He broke off the kiss and smiled at her.
"Go to sleep, Christine," he whispered.
He tucked her head underneath his chin and wrapped his arms snuggly around her. They both closed their eyes, breathing in sync with each other. A few minutes later, Christine was asleep. Erik focused on the way that her eyelashes curled on her cheek, the slender curve of her neck, and the slight smile that graced her lips. He had never felt more complete in his life. He allowed himself to remember the taste of her kisses. And when his eyes could look at her no more, he too drifted off to sleep. Both of them dreamed of tomorrow.