Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! To all my wonderful reviewers and those who have added this story to favorites, alerts, and me to the same. You all are amazing.
Arrianna Blood-I'm glad you like the central conflict. It may be a little simple, but I'm enjoying this angle. Also, much love for the anticipation.
Nami Swannn- I know! I can write Erik out to do truly terrible things, but no matter what, I still love and sympathize with him. I wish the world hadn't been so cruel, but then again, he might not have become an amazingly talented, genius.
Million-I think it is amazing you find Erik relatable. And on the "Singing without knowing the words" I meant that as a known song, a written one he should perform. He could not because he didn't know the lyrics. Does that make sense?
Lupa Eira- So excited that you like my story and the confusion/conflict it involves. Thanks, also, for liking the way I write out Erik's speech. I suppose it does sometimes appear lyrical.
Everyonedeserveslove- Thank you for saying so! Hope you like this chapter!
Amalia Santoro- I also was intrigued by the scene in the graveyard and I'm so glad you agree that more could've happened. Thank you as well for liking my take on it as well as my style. As for Erik's plans…hehehe it's a secret. ;)
PhantomAngel24601- Awww I'm so glad you love it! And maybe we'll have some E/C moments soon. Who knows? (Not me) :)
Max-rose-clary- Of course you are forgiven my dear, but I did miss you last chapter, so glad you're back. And goodness! And masterpiece? What a thoughtful thing to say about my writing. So happy you think this story has a special element. I truly hope it lives up to your expectations.
Sheepshanks- I agree, there is a lot of emotional turmoil in this story. More than even I anticipated. And yes, Erik is funny like that. (Trust me, Touch me…no! Not now, later, when I ask you.) Such a fickle man. I try to write Christine a little more independent, but you're right, she has to grow into strength and bravery. Erik could be the one to bring it out of her. (Also, love your signature my faithful reviewer) ;)
Bella- Thank you! I try to thoroughly make readers experience and feel with my characters. It's nice to know that Erik's emotions were well described. Hope you like this chapter.
Kyashii- First off, thanks for reviewing all 3 chapters even though you read them all in one day. Next, thanks so much for thinking I write Erik well. I love him so much, I really want him to be realistic. Also, much love for enjoying the internal conflict and development so far. In answer to your question, in the last chapter he said no one had touch him without violence or abuse. In her unintentional way, Christine had touched him when removing the mask, to abuse him. (Does that help?) Also thanks for calling me terrific and incredible, makes me smile every time I read it.
Phantom watcher- Thanks for liking this plot and my writing style. Hope this chapter lives up to the others.
Finally thank you Starcrier, my amazing, patient, and wonderful BETA. Who not only helps me edit, write, and break up chapter, but reviews just to make my day. P.S I really liked that line too my dear!
Enjoy everyone!
Erik started his day only after only a few hours of sleep. He did not feel the effects of his brief rest, sleeping seemed so trivial when he had more important events to arrange. If his plan for Christine was to succeed, he had plans and orders to set into motion.
He only delayed his departure to make sure that during his absence, Christine would not only be comfortable, but safe as well. He needed to be certain she would stay put in his home. The many levels of catacombs held more traps and secrets than even her curious mind could imagine.
Right before he opened his front door to leave, he doubled back, unable to control his need. Very carefully, he opened the door to her room. If he did not glimpse her, Erik would know the previous day had been a dream. Surely it had been and he was madly trying to keep it alive.
His breath caught the moment he saw her slumbering form. Christine slept soundly, her expression softened by sleep. Erik's hand involuntarily shot up to his cheek. It had been real! He had never felt more relieved.
He dared not venture further in, temptation was too strong and he could only imagine how terrified she would be to wake up to him invading her room. So with one last longing glance, he closed the door and rushed to accomplish the tasks he had set.
Christine awoke the next morning, still unsure what she wanted from the day to come. Deciding to forestall the inevitable meeting a little longer, she took her time getting ready. True to his word, the phantom had filled her wardrobe with gowns. However, Christine hadn't been expecting the dresses to be so luxurious. They were not gaudy, but were clearly made from rich fabrics and intricate designs. She chose a deep blue gown accented in silver stitching and lace. She ran her fingers through her hair, combing out some of the tangles the night had put into her curls.
When she could avoid the moment no longer, Christine cautiously ventured into the hallway. Wandering from the hallway into the sitting room, then to the kitchen, she found his home quite silent…and empty.
She felt worried until she noticed the breakfast tray on the dining table with a letter placed beside it. The phantom's elegant scrawl spelled her name across the folded page. Christine gently unfolded the note and read it hastily.
Christine,
I hope you will make yourself comfortable in my home should you awaken before my return. I assure you, I will be back before noon. There is no need to fear. I have some business to arrange that is quite vital in nature and unfortunately could not wait until our meeting.
I have prepared breakfast for you, but if it is not to your liking, take anything you would like from the kitchen. If I recall correctly, you have always been fond of pastries.
You may roam the house and its rooms as you like, but please stay out of my personal chambers and do not leave the house for any reason. I am not attempting to cage you, the catacombs are riddled with my personal security devices and navigating them is perilous if you do not know the way. (Which I assure you, you do not.)
I will see you soon.
The letter bore no signature and for some reason that bothered Christine immensely. In the days of his role as a teacher, he had always signed his letters as The Angel of Music. She knew that when he gave instructions as the phantom, he would leave the pseudonym of O.G. that stood for his persona of Opera Ghost.
But she had almost expected him to reveal his real name. He must know that she had connected angel and phantom as one in the same. He had made sure to thoroughly shatter all illusions with Buquet.
Yet, Christine wished she could call his actual name, if he had one. It would make him seem more mortal and tangible. Forever he had appeared so fantastic, no matter which alias he chose to present.
Huffing her disappointment, she distracted herself with the tantalizing smell of the strawberry pastry on the table. Christine could not help but smile realizing he recalled even her breakfast preferences. Coffee was warming on the stove and filling a cup; she sat down at the table and ate.
As she finished her coffee, she pondered what urgent business could have taken the phantom away so suddenly. Christine guessed it must be Opera Ghost plans. What other pursuits could he be dictating?
When she had put away all of the dishes, Christine walked through his home seeking something to occupy her time. Curiosity begged her to defy the phantom's wishes when she passed the door to his room, but she ignored the impulse. The thought of being discovered openly disobeying his instructions kept her from bending to her whim.
Before long she found herself back inside the music room. Christine stared at the piano with a sort of reverence. In the hands of her brilliant maestro, the instrument created miracles that she could barely think of as songs. Not when his compositions seemed so much more than any tune she had ever heard.
His presence felt so strong, Christine had the sudden desire to sing. It had always been her angel that had inspired her voice. Even though she knew him as an angel no more, his effect on her had not lessened. She sat down on the bench and played a few notes of a vocal exercise. Then with practiced technique, her soprano tone soared through the octaves, gathering strength and beauty the higher it flew. "Sing for me, Christine," his heavenly voice begged in her mind.
Her eyes cleared and her song cut off abruptly. "No!" she whispered angrily to herself, her small hands fisting in restraint. She should no longer want to please him. She needed to remember what he had done. He had murdered. He had lied to her. "And he left you," she murmured accusingly to herself, willing her mind to recall the hurt and terror.
"Not exactly," Erik replied roughly, striding into the room.
Erik had arrived back home to the welcome sound of Christine's voice. But when he looked at her seated at his piano, she had almost immediately ceased. It was as though he was being punished. If only she knew how thoroughly he had suffered in her absence.
But watching her, he had seen such anger in her expression; he wondered what could have possibly inspired the emotion. She had thought herself alone and her voice had been lovely, gaining back some of the conviction she had lost. Erik was baffled by the strange change in her demeanor. Until, of course, she had spoken. Her muffled tone had carried just enough to hit him with guilt. "And he left you."
Erik fought between guilt at how he had hurt her and a strange joy that she cared that he had left. Christine couldn't realize that he had not left her alone for even a day during their separation.
She met his gaze almost sadly. Not giving her a moment to accuse or question, he said, "First, I would like to apologize for my…behavior last night. I will not explain my actions, but please understand that I did not mean to hurt you or upset you."
"And also, I know you came with me for answers, and I will give them. But," he paused a moment, "You must give me something in return. I have a proposition, which you may decline if you wish."
Christine nodded once, her eyes reflecting her suspicion at these words.
"All I want from you is time. I want you to regain back the brilliance you once possessed, both on and off the stage. So here is my proposal. Each day you are in my home, I will answer any question you wish to the best of my knowledge and ability. But, your curiosity will be limited. Today, you will have two questions. If, after getting those answers you desire to leave, I will not attempt to stop you. In fact, I will personally escort you safely back up to the world above." He explained the part about her departure half-heartedly. He feared that she would indeed leave that very night.
"However," he continued. "If you still have further inquiries to ask of me, you must stay here with me another day. Also, as your time here grows, so will your reward. Tomorrow your number of answers will increase, as they will the day after and so on."
"What about rehearsal?" she questioned urgently. Carlotta would love an excuse to suggest the managers get rid of Christine permanently.
"My managers will be receiving a note this morning from a prestigious vocal instructor explaining your short absence. They will believe that you have been taken up by a wealthy patron who wishes to see you excel in your musical endeavors and has therefore provided lessons at their own expense.
"They will also be getting a letter from the Opera Ghost praising their decision to give Mademoiselle Daae more instruction. A monetary supplement for time lost will also be presented to them with much gratitude. That ought to have them in high spirits. Heaven knows they never do anything that pleases me.
"So, as you can see, I have arranged for you to stay without guilt or worry for the world above."
"What about…?" Christine's question faded when she met his gaze.
He eyed her still unsure gaze jealously. The unwillingness to state her next objection revealed the subject without her saying a word. "The Vicomte also received the first letter and I will need one written in your own hand to confirm the story and stifle any suspicions he may voice."
Christine visibly relaxed at the news. "Of course I'll write one," she answered immediately.
Wanting to change the subject away from the boy, Erik stated, "There is a bag of your personal belongings in your bedroom. I paid a visit to your apartment and gathered everyday items I thought might make your stay more comfortable while you are here." He saw the reward for his whim in the small smile she gave.
"Thank you," she said. "That was very… thoughtful of you."
Erik waved a hand dismissively at the gratitude. "Do you accept my offer?" he questioned quickly, preparing for immediate rebuff.
Christine bit her lip, a habit Erik recognized that meant she had to give a matter thorough consideration. But she looked nervous, still slightly afraid.
"Please know I am being perfectly honest with you and I am trying to help us both," he pressed uncertainly.
Her blue eyes seemed to meet his with a sudden resolve. "I accept," she whispered softly.
Erik felt a weight lift from his shoulders. Such relief to know she would stay if even for only a day's time. "I assume you will want time to consider what you will ask. Take as many moments as you need," he bade as he turned to retreat from her presence. He had to leave to gather the remnants of his sanity and control. How easily she dismantled the walls around his heart. The moment she had agreed to his offer he had wanted to fall at her feet in reverent gratitude.
Yet he also felt helpless. If Christine asked her questions then demanded to leave, he had given his word not to detain her. And as easy as it would be for him to break his promise, caging her seemed monstrous even to him.
But that would fit his character wouldn't it? To be a true villain and kidnap the fair maiden even after gallant promises. No! Even if Christine did not believe him to have a heart, Erik did. And it would stop its beat if he ever made her curse and hate him. Though she was close to that already.
Erik sighed angrily and collapsed in his throne-like chair before the hearth. His pensive stare focused on the flames. But in every dancing flicker, he could only see Christine.
Christine wanted to follow him, but she realized how unwise it would be to seek him out. She needed to remain detached until she had answers. She smiled and shook her head ruefully, slightly frustrated but also impressed in spite of herself. The phantom always found a way to get the upper hand and he had done so once again with his proposition.
Yet, she felt somewhat relieved that he had given her an excuse to stay.
But no, she had to think of the questions that had been vexing her most, the answers she craved. Yet, if she did not ask the most pressing, Christine would have a valid reason to remain in his mysterious realm of music and darkness.
She felt the uncomfortable pang of guilt as she contemplated Raoul worrying over her absence and that she was spending her disappearance with the only other man who had ever competed for her heart. But then again Christine had been given an easy out in that simple letter she was to write.
Silencing her guilt, she sat at her desk to properly tell Raoul why she would be gone for several days. She knew him to be jealous for her attention and tried to leave out any unnecessary details about her vocal instructor. Christine immediately wondered if her angel intended to give her lessons while she was with him. It could very well just be a conjured detail for her alibi, but perhaps he also longed for the simplicity of sharing music together again.
Their lessons used to be the highlight of every week for Christine. To her, sessions with her teacher did much more for her than any of the ensemble and ballet rehearsals ever could. Truthfully, she missed those intimate moments entwined within pitches and chords, speaking to one another with no words save the lyrics and even then Christine could spin a different tale than simple words said. Her angel always said that if she truly felt through music, the words would not matter.
But, Christine feared the time when he would play again. A single melody had pulled her from sleep and made her want to touch and comfort and break every defense she had armored herself with. No, perhaps staying out of music's realm would keep her from becoming more confused and unsure of her feelings for him.
"May I come in?" the request startled Erik out of his pensive posture and his eyes immediately sought Christine's shape lingering in the doorway.
"Of course," he replied immediately. "Have you decided upon your questions?" he asked trying to mask the fear that threatened to make him tremble.
"I… I think so," she responded, her voice unsure. Christine had decided to compromise her wishes and ask one inquiry she believed vital and another she simply felt a burning desire to know.
"Well?" he pushed gently. In truth, this interrogation unnerved him more than he had anticipated. Christine could ask of him anything and he would be obligated to answer. And some questions were better left un-asked.
Christine looked down at her hands and walked over to the couch by the fire. She sat down and continued to keep her eyes averted as she questioned, "Why," she swallowed hard, this had to be done. Then boldly she demanded, "Why did you kill Joseph?" She knew that if she didn't ask this first, the questions and terror surrounding the murder would never cease to torment her. He claimed he could explain away his sin; Christine would like to see him try.
Erik's brow rose. She certainly wasn't wasting any time. He was certain now she regretted her choice to return with him. Obviously, she intended to hear his story and depart as hastily as she could.
Hiding the desolation he felt, Erik attempted to find an answer the she could possibly understand. After a moment he began, "Joseph Buquet had always been a vexation to tolerate in my theatre. With his constant lustful gazes in your direction and his drunken tales about me, he tempted me to arrange disasters for him almost daily. However, I resisted, believing his poor choices to be the result of sheer ignorance." He hesitated a moment, trying to glimpse the emotion she hid in her downturned face. When it became apparent she was not going to meet his gaze, Erik continued.
"What you and most people probably do not realize is that I was not seeking revenge or punishment for Buquet. In fact, that crime is almost completely unrelated to him except that he was the victim."
Apparently this admission was either intriguing or confusing because Christine suddenly looked up, her eyes full of curiosity and fear. "Then why-,"
"I shall tell you," he cut her off, but not unkindly. "You must be patient if you are to come even close to understanding." Her blue eyes narrowed as though she sensed the challenge in his words. His mouth twitched, wanting to smile that even now she felt the need to prove herself. Whether it was subconscious or not, he took that as an encouraging sign.
"What brought about his demise was a rapid chain of maddening and sometimes hurtful events that threatened, and narrowly succeeded, to destroy my sanity. The smallest transgression was enacted by the imbeciles Andre and Firmin. They are not as pliant to the Opera Ghost's wishes as I had expected. They do not realize the success of the Opera Populaire has been completely dictated by me for over a decade. Their poor decisions would've run this establishment into the ground if I had not chosen to intervene."
"Thankfully, my plan to get you onto the stage to perform worked and my managers realized what a blessing they had in my, or rather their, company. When the gala had been such a spectacular success, I expected them to happily allow you to be our new diva and get rid of Carlotta who has greatly overstayed her welcome."
"But obviously I expected too much from the idiots. What should have been an obvious choice was obliterated by La Carlotta and her so called 'reputation'. If only they would've seen how quickly you'd rise among today's prima donnas. But no," he said curtly, still irritated by their stupidity, "instead of heeding the Opera Ghost, they obeyed a whining actress and banished you to the ballet, chorus, and minor roles. Not to mention silent parts. How that goaded me!"
Christine could not help feel a sudden pride that he had been so angered to see her pushed out of the leads and into the background.
"What hit me worst about their choice, however," he continued his voice suddenly subdued, almost shy in its softness, "was the effect the decision had on you. You had been so confident after your stage debut. Suddenly you carried yourself with the splendor and sureness that befits a diva. Yet, you never flaunted your success over the others who were jealous. No, you accepted your fortune with good grace. Never had I been so proud," he admitted. Realizing his words he continued, hoping to detach his words with his emotions.
"When they told you of your demotion back to where you had started, I watched. You did not let anyone else see, and it is likely no one else could have. But, you were stricken with thought of working so long and hard then having your reward taken away so swiftly. I saw you succumb to tears when you entered your dressing room for the final time." Christine's blue eyes met his gaze, hesitant and wary. He continued as though her suspicion did not surprise him. "To witness you hurt for a fate I had tried so adamantly to prevent shook me. Anger hit me then with an intensity I had never known. Your sorrow enraged me because I knew the events that caused it should have been stopped. I felt responsible for your loss."
Christine dared not interrupt. But all she could contemplate was how much this man seemed to care for her. Yet she wanted to blame him and curse him. Could he not see how broken she had been when he abandoned her? Did he not realize how much worse the pain had been compared to the night she had lost her spot as the diva? If so, why hadn't he attempted to comfort or help her then? Christine could not understand.
Erik wondered what the motives behind Christine's sudden reverie were, but didn't question. He needed to finish this answer before he made any inquiries of his own. "But, as I said, the managers decision was the very least of the catalysts that set my sin into motion. Your reaction was, to me, a separate cause all together. First was frustration at their uncooperative ideas, then fury at the injustice of how you were treated.
"But, I suppose the greatest motivation for my behavior was…," he trailed off and met her eyes uncertainly. Erik did not feel wise to be giving her this information. It tied the crime and his heart together. Christine should not be allowed to see how easily she had destroyed his control. She should not realize how her actions had unhinged his mind.
Christine was riveted by his searching stare. Yet, she waited impatiently, yearning to know the true cause of the death of Buquet. As he had told his first reasons, she dreaded that she already knew the answer. Now she wanted it confirmed and prayed his impetus somehow redeemed him.
"Please, tell me," she pleaded gently.
"You truly do not realize what you ask," he responded quietly, a strange sadness tingeing the tone of his voice. "I can only wonder if this cause will make you at least understand, or if it will make you completely despise me." He shook his head, as if regretting even saying that much on the subject.
"I-I will try to understand. Please, I need to know," she begged, unashamed when she felt this answer so imperative.
"You," came the tentative reply. "You were the true motive."
Cliffhanger! Sorry, but the chapter grew to be monstrous and I had to cut it somewhere. What did you think of Erik's proposal? Smartie pants isn't he?
Also, please please please review! They are so wonderful :D
Much love,
~bo-leigh bella