Disclaimer: As you all well know, I own zip, zilch, and yes, even nada. Only the words in this particular order belong to me. Just to cover myself, possible references to Leroux, Kay, or ALW may abound.
Forgive me, dear readers, for such a long interval between updates. Life, stress, classes, and a nasty case of Writer's block got in the way. This was originally posted only as part one.The second half is posted below ).
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Pomegranate Seeds:
"As Stars Sigh"
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The city of Paris was experiencing one of the darkest weeks it had yet known. The shimmering moon had completed her cycle across the sky and now took her three days of sleep, leaving the streets without her cold light. However, the more distant inhabitants of the solar sea took this chance to shine their brightest, twinkling in reminiscence of the sun's own rays. The few denizens of Paris who took to the streets at such an hour did not so much as glance at the lights high above, but this mattered little to the stars. For their attention was turned to the opera house- seemingly ghostly in its silence. Only they would dare to strain their ears, waiting patiently before sighing in time with a faint music like that of heaven's angels.
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Deep below the world of man, a melody of unheard beauty was being performed. Two shadows played across one wall, distorted in the dim light, each one adding to the song in their own way. One the accomplished musician, the other the talented ingénue. It was a delightful sound to the ears, an excerpt from a popular opera. Yet, perhaps our singer was not putting her heart into it, or perhaps she was only having trouble with the intricate notes. No matter what the case may have been, her work was not up to par, much to the chagrin of the resident genius. One second was all it took for the airy melody to turn violent and stormy, for with one stroke, his hands came crashing onto the keys, shattering the air with a single discordant note. Startled into silence, Christine stared at him warily, still out of temper due to her earlier ordeal. He slowly maneuvered himself around the bench to face her, hands upon his knees, suggesting complacency. However, his eyes reflected nothing but annoyance.
"Christine, where is your brain? Judging by your performance, it certainly isn't here… perhaps not even in Paris."
Biting her lip, she moved her gaze to the intricate rug beneath her feet, following the patterns with her eyes. She would not dignify his question, no insult, with any response. Perhaps today was not one of her best lessons, but then, she usually wasn't quite so disturbed before them. If Erik had not been quite so persuasive, she would have forgone tonight's altogether, preferring instead to collapse into the plush bed within her room.
"Perhaps," he was continuing, "you're thoughts were too focused upon your young Vicomte, hmm? Could that be where your mind is, Christine?"
Her eyes snapped up to his, ignoring the smug glint of humor within them. He had known that statement would get her attention, and the knowledge that she had taken the bait only pushed her mood deeper into the black abyss.
Exasperated, she sighed, "Erik, I only wanted a carriage ride! Would that have been so horrible? A simple outing to clear my head!"
The humor was gone and only determination set in the amber orbs. Standing in one swift motion, he brushed past her, reaching for his cloak.
"Clear your head, you say? Why if a carriage ride will remedy that horrid technique you were displaying moments ago, then let us go!"
A look of horror encompassed her face, not at the insult he had just flung at her, but at the prospect of going anywhere, aboveground no less, with him.
"Come now, Christine, do you believe me to be inferior company to that boy? Really, your mind will clear just the same no matter who you go with."
He moved stealthily about the room as he rationalized the idea, grabbing her own cloak in the process. The heavy fabric dangled from his fingers just inches before her eyes, yet she simply dug her heels into the fine carpet as if such an action would ground her permanently.
"Truly," said she, "this is not necessary. Let us try that aria again, Erik? I'm sure I will do better this time."
He barely glanced at her as he fastened his cloak.
"No, it will be no trouble at all, my dear. You know I would never refuse such a request! " he exclaimed, deliberately missing the point. "If night air is what you need to improve your voice, then that is exactly what we shall give you!"
His outstretched arm offered her the cloak once again. When she made no move to take it, however, he simply dropped it upon her shoulders. Christine watched as he made his way to the door, placing his hat atop his head as he walked. This was the last chance she had to get out of this ridiculous scheme of his.
"Erik, please, I truly don't need to go! Really, I don't even want to go!"
He glanced back at her, his face thrown into more shadow than before.
"Well, did you ever think that perhaps I would like to go? Really, it was your suggestion. Come if you like or stay here."
She watched as he opened the hidden door, though she could never quite figure out its secret. He began to saunter out when the realization hit her. She could either go out with him, into the world above where she was almost free, or stay here, trapped in a house with a door she could not open.
Mere seconds later, Christine was decked in her warm cloak, standing outside the strange house upon the Lake.
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Thus, Christine Daae, who moments before had so longed to return to the Overworld and its fine semblance of normalcy, now dreaded such an option. For even the most miniscule shard of reality would surely be frightened away by the imposing shadows beside her. She had always thought him a prisoner to his own world, bound by some distaste for humanity she could never quite comprehend. As she inhabited the upper levels of the Opera House, he breathed life into those beneath it. Yet it seemed for her, he would rebel against his self-imposed shackles only for the small reward of a crooked smile.
It took only a single instant for revelation to descend with its dark, downy wings upon her mind. Christine knew that no matter how far she may wander, that no matter how long she may hide, he would only stretch his bonds farther and farther- only to rest his eyes upon her once more. She would be forever watching the darkness for twin stars, displaced from the heavens; forever be scanning the breeze for some unseen melody.
Her soul was of the sort which would wither and die without the proper light of freedom. Mentally she knew that with Erik riding the night winds, she could never be free. Subconsciously, though, she wondered if she could ever break free of one who had so enriched her life- even if he opened the door to her gilded cage and told her to go, would she? There was no desire within her, however, to life a life resigned to that of a caged nightingale, trapped for fear of a presence she could neither see, nor hear, nor taste, nor touch. But how does one escape a man who holds the very shadows of the night at his whim?
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They emerged silently from the labyrinth onto the Rue Scribe, blackness unto blackness, shadows unto shadows, twin specters indiscernible in the moonless night. It was nigh to impossible, in her mind, that they should find a carriage at such an hour, yet he still led her through the street, slinking across the inky cobblestones in a manner which was less than genteel, she was sure. While it was true that she was only a violinist's daughter, merely a singer, Christine had always endeavored to be as wholesome as any woman of society. Though she was known to display a certain naiveté on occasion, she was positive respectable girls most certainly did not roam the streets in the night-- especially while a dark, disreputable-looking man walked by one's side. For, what normal girl would stroll with shrouded Death at midnight?
Her thoughts quickly becoming sour, she turned to her dark companion to express her distaste in the whole affair.
"Erik, why are we here?" she implored, "We'll never find a carriage at the time of night!"
His strange eyes glanced at her briefly before gliding back to the empty road.
Irritated, she continued. "Besides that, it's cold! I could catch a chill, and then I wouldn't be able to sing!" Surely, that would make him see reason.
He replied without turning towards her. "It is no colder here than near my home, Christine. Chances of you falling ill are very low. Besides, it was not I who needed to clear my head to finish the lesson. If you could not sing tonight, it is of little consequence, then, whether you could sing tomorrow, is it not?"
"Please, let us just go. There is no use waiting for nothing."
"Nothing, my dear?" He extended a hand, pointing her eyes down the street.
No sooner had he uttered the words, then a brougham came clattering down the road, halting mere feet from where they stood. Here eyes widened in disbelief. How had he known?
A sleepy little man sat upon the driver's seat, peering down at her through heavy lidded eyes. A yawn escaped his lips before he addressed Christine.
"Would you like to be taken home, Mademoiselle? A young lady like you shouldn't be out alone on such a night, you know."
She opened her mouth to speak, perhaps to give him directions to Mama Valerius' home, but Erik cut in before she got the chance.
"The lady is certainly not alone."
The driver stiffened immediately, visibly uneasy, searching for the source of the voice. Finally, his eyes lightened on the figure which had only now detached from the shadows. He glanced back at Christine quickly, then at Erik once more.
"Where to, Monsieur?"
"The park. Mademoiselle wished to take a moonlit stroll."
The driver simply nodded, as Erik took the liberty to open the door for her. She, however, made no move. What was this about a park? He had only said a carriage ride, had he not?
Seeing she was lost in her own thoughts, Erik took this opportunity to take his seat in the carriage, his strange eyes the only part of him visible through the dark interior. A single palm reached out from within, beckoning her inside. And so, with one more look back at the road, Christine took the gloved hand and clambered nervously inside. Watching the Opera fade through a single window, she rode off into the inky night, in a black carriage, a black figure at her side.
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Perhaps, just every so often, fantasies truly could break through the mind's invisible barrier to become full fledged reality. It wasn't something he often believed in, and even now such a concept wouldn't become one of his personal truths, yet he could settle for coincidence. For here he was, walking side by side (if not arm in arm) with his Christine- a cultivated stream at their side as the stars shimmered in their heavenly orbits. It wasn't exactly as he had imagined- the moon was nowhere to be seen and the events leading up to this moment had been a bit sub par. However, how could one such as he argue with Fate? How could he condemn such a stroll when it was he with the honor of walking through the park with the Opera's shining jewel? No, he would accept the moment as it was, perfection in its own right. The closest to perfection he might ever hope to be.
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She didn't want to be here. It was cold. It was dark. Respectable young ladies would be home at this hour. Most importantly, such girls would not be strolling through an empty park with a man… especially one such as Erik.
She stared up at him but could glean no emotion from him. For even had his mask not concealed his face from view, the ebony hood which bathed it in shadows surely would have. From this angle, she couldn't even make out his effervescent eyes. Yet, he seemed almost content as he strolled by her side- never too close, mind you- with his hands clasped behind his back. She even thought she heard a faint melody dissipating through the air as he passed. So different from her own current emotions, he was entirely in his element.
What kind of being wore the shadows as their cloak and the night as a second skin? Only Erik, her mind whispered, only an angel, a demon, a phantom, a reality. No, she certainly shouldn't be here with one such as he.
She had been a bundle of nerves since she had stepped out of the carriage and the emptiness of the park had done nothing to help. She couldn't help glancing about her every so often, hoping Erik wouldn't notice, hoping no one else in Paris would take to the absurd notion of a stroll under moonless skies. What if someone, anyone, saw her? The presence of another should be comfort to her, yet perhaps it was the possibility of such a presence which unnerved her. How could Erik be so calm when it was he who loathed humanity? Should it not be he fearing for the appearance of a stranger? It most certainly shouldn't be she.
A quick glance brought her gaze to his own, and it was only then she realized she had stopped walking.
"Are you alright Christine? Perhaps a bit fatigued?"
No. Her mind cried. Not alright. Not fatigued. Only weary of worry.
Her lips, however, assented in a light murmur and a slight nod.
He silently led her to a nearby bench, delicately carved marble under a large, shady tree. The sight seemed almost absurd to her, for why ever would she need shelter from blinding rays which did not exist? None of these thoughts left her mind however. She could feel his gaze upon her, but she dare not look at him, instead choosing to smooth the billowing folds of her skirts. She barely acknowledged him when his voice cut through the silence.
"Christine, why don't you take in the sights? It will surely take your mind off of whatever it is you fear."
Her eyes snapped up at his words. Why ever did he believe she was frightened? How ever did he know?
"Do not look at me, my dear. Surely the beauty of the world would do your mind more good than I ever would."
She still continued to stare at him, standing mere feet away from her.
An almost exasperated sigh escaped his lips as his voice lilted melodically,
"Christine, Look at the stars."
So she did. A silent gasp escaped her lips as she looked, truly examined the punched velvet of the sky. Truly took in all her troubled mind had blocked only moments before. Millions upon millions of speckled lights pierced the sky, unhindered by the gaudy moon or the loud city lights. It was utterly and infinitely lovely.
"Oh, they are beautiful" she whispered incredulously, all the fear melting from her mind.
An ironic laugh floated towards her. "Yes, I've always found it interesting that such things are only visible when darkness falls. When no one is around to appreciate it."
No appropriate reply came to her, so she simply continued to stare at the sky above.
"You know," he began lightly, "if you look hard enough, you may be able to find larger images in those insignificant lights."
How could she ever forget such a thing as that? Her father had told her similarly when she was only a child. Yet, even though those days had long faded into time, she suddenly felt like a young girl again, searching the skies for celestial sights. Allowing her eyes to focus and unfocus, she tried to see below the surface of the heavens.
"What of that?" she inquired, pointing to a portion of stars, "the ones which look like an archway?"
He followed her fingertips, nodding. "The Corona Borealis. A Crown, not an Archway, my dear."
She turned towards his voice, searching for his eyes, but they were upturned towards the sky, lost in thought.
"The Crown of Ariadne, if I remember correctly. Her hand was given to an ancient hero in return for that crown. He promised to marry her after she helped him defeat a terrible horror, which they did. However, he ultimately left her abandoned- isolated upon a lonely isle. Perhaps not the happiest of the constellations."
"That's a horrible story, Erik. It would be better had I never heard such a thing. How could anyone do such a thing!"
His gaze upon her hardened to polished amber, giving her the inclination that he, at least, could believe in such an occurrence.
Yet, he only said, "It may be more common than you think, Christine."
They stared at one another in silence for a time, when the clattering of a carriage upon the nearby road shattered the moment. Erik's head snapped around towards the road, as Christine shot up from the bench, quickly smoothing her skirts and cloak into some semblance of normalcy. Her fears suddenly returned in full force as she realized they were quickly becoming reality.
"It seems we have company." Erik mentioned, nonchalantly.
She felt her hands shaking as she noticed exactly who it was, walking along the path a short distance from them. They had to leave now, lest they be discovered!
"Erik, really, we…we should leave. I have no desire to see any strangers at the moment. Please, why don't we… let us just go."
"Oh? Now you wish for a ride back, hmm? When I could barely get you into that carriage in the first place, Christine?" he asked sardonically, "Really dear, I would begin to fear for your sanity if I didn't recognize the dashing figure of your Vicomte rushing along the path."
She was rooted to the ground, her head spinning, at a loss of how to prevent the two meeting. Oh, what a night of horrors this was!
"I begin to wonder, you know, just why it is you fear any possible meeting between that boy and myself."
It wasn't a question. He hadn't even intended it to be. Yet, she could barely think- her faculties lost to raging worry. Worry for herself, worry for her dear friend, worry even for the dark man beside her. And, as we all know, troubled minds are the least likely to think before speaking. Thus, she answered him in little more than five words, clear as a bell among the flurry of thoughts within her head.
"Because he fears for me!"
Everything in the world seemed to stop for that one second as he stared at her, an emotion within his eyes which she could not fathom. Shock? Pain? Hate? She couldn't decipher it.
"He fears for you, Christine? Why ever should he do that? Why should anyone fear when I am here to protect you?"
She couldn't bring herself to look at him as he continued.
"Or is it something else entirely? Does he perhaps believe you fear for yourself? Do you fear for yourself constantly, my dear, or only when you are in such company as mine-"
"-No, Erik, I didn't mean!-" she cried, yet he ignored her, continuing his tirade, slashing his hand through the air as he spoke.
"-Perhaps you fear for him as well. Well, fear not, mademoiselle, for your dear boy is safe from Erik's wrath… for now. I bid you goodnight."
He began to step back into the shadows of the tree. She lunged towards him, hand outstretched as if begging him to wait. Yet, he continued to disappear, his cloak melding with the darkness until she could only see his eyes.
"Erik, please." she begged, yet even that verbal plea did no good as she felt his words billow about her.
"I said, goodnight, mademoiselle."
Tears began to prickle at the corners of her eyes when she heard another voice call her name. Raoul came up next to her, a concerned expression upon his handsome face.
"I have been looking all over for you!" He cried, "I thought we were going for a ride together, you know…"
It was then he noticed her glistening eyes. "Whatever is the matter?"
She forced a smile upon her face, though it did not quite reach her eyes. "Oh, nothing Raoul. Only an effect of the wind in one's face, I suppose."
Though there was little wind that night, he seemed to take no notice. "Well, I was quite worried you know," he said smiling, "I came back to your dressing room and you were no where to be found! Then I called at your home, thinking perhaps you'd returned there, yet no one had seen you in hours. Finally, I thought perhaps you had simply been sidetracked on your way home."
"Oh, yes, that was exactly what happened," she lied, "I have been wanting to take a look at this particular path, you know. Though how did you find me here?"
"Just a guess," he laughed, "but I suppose it wasn't a bad one at all."
She allowed herself to laugh hollowly along with him.
A hand was offered to her then, as well as a ride home courtesy of the Vicomte de Chagny. How could she not accept such a well meaning invitation? Thus, the Jewel of the Opera strolled back along the path, arm in arm (if not side by side) with her childhood friend- a cultivated stream at their side as the stars shimmered in their heavenly orbits.
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He watched in heart wrenching agony as the two strolled out of the park, out of his dream turned reality. His dear Christine, poor innocent Christine who couldn't believe in the cruelty of humanity… yet was unwittingly able to commit the sins of man herself. She had abandoned him to his own solitude for the remainder of the evening, shattering the dream which they had been weaving.
"Oh, yes, Christine… such things truly are more common than you would think." he whispered to the empty air about him.
Then, with one last glance at the stars above, he allowed himself to dissolve into the shadows about him, dark clouds which even covered the twin lights of his eyes. When dawn spread her fingers about the park, none would ever know of what had occurred the night before. No evidence was left of all the things gained and all the things lost during one of the darkest nights Paris had ever known.
A/N: Okay! Everything's starting to come full circle now. Two chapters left. Sorry for the long wait, but I hope the end of this chapter wasn't too disappointing! Much love to all you readers… your thoughts are always welcome, so if you wish leave me a note/review/whatever. Until next time.