Eric awoke to a precise knock at his door. His head jerked, startled by the warm presence. She couldn't be knocking and by his side. The soft mound of brown curls in the corner of his vision moved. Eric pulled back as the brunette buried herself into the blanket.
She was there...
Memories of last night flashed as he stared at her nude body. Another part of him was picking up interest as well. There was another sharp knock, three taps on the door in quick succession.
Damn Morine!
He briskly got out of bed into the chilly air and cracked open the door, "What?"
Morine stood in all her finery, even early in the morning. Her hair still gracefully draped over shoulder and her arms were crossed. An eyebrow rose as she eyed him, making the delicate wrinkles around her dark eyes prominent. "What?" He hissed again. After another moment he opened the door fully revealing himself in all his glory.
She sighed, before quipping, "I didn't take you to be lecherous."
"Or you to be jealous."
She frowned, "Watch yourself, Mr. Souverain. I will not be looking in the sewers for you."
He rolled his eyes, "I will not..."
Her hand snatched his head bringing his ear down to her lips, "Erik do not be stupid. It's that girl in your bed that Giry told us about. Do not let her cloud your mind, you have..."
He pulled back to shut her up with a quick kiss. "Yes Mrs. Souverain, I won't forget."
She gave him her look, as she stalked back to her own apartment. He was in for it. But with a glance back at Christine as he shut the door, he forgot.
Christine buried her head into the pillow as she snuggled into the covers. She was warm and comfortable, so comfortable... She opened her eyes. None of her beds were this soft. Not the one at the house, not the one at Giry's place or the one in the dorms. She sat up, looking at the blurred room, light spilled from a window to her left, onto a desk, and a great expansive dark wall.
Where on earth...?
She looked down at her bare chest, the marks of love upon her skin. Last night dawned on her.
"Erik?!" She called scrambling to get up. The room was too quiet. She was alone. He couldn't leave her here. She fell pulling the sheets with her. Erik who was the couch reading, was soon at her side, knelt on one knee, with a hand on her arm.
"I'm here. What's wrong?" He asked looking into her frightened eyes that darted about the room and settled on him. Her hand reached out touching his face he instinctively leaned into it as he did often with Morine. But this was not... in a second he tried to pull away, cursing he was too comfortable with not wearing his mask. Christine only looked confused at him when he reached to cover his face. Her gaze remained unchanged as he pulled his hand away; the pupils had no reaction to the revealed sight. "Christine... even at this distance?"
She leaned forward making their noses touch. Here was where his face came into focus, "If I can or not, it doesn't matter..." With that she kissed his scarred cheek. For the second time in twenty four hours Erik wasn't sure if he was truly awake or not. He pulled Christine up and divested himself of the pants he wore. They fell back into the bed where they stayed for the rest of the afternoon.
Outside in the hall, Morine closed her door to glare at the one across from her as she slowly walked to the stairs. He had been holed up in that room all day. She paused steadily listening to muted banging against the wall followed by a deep groan.
She shook her head, going down the stairs, "Fool."
The sunset threw shadows about the room as Erik lit a few candles. He seemed at ease, smiling at the dozing one in the bed. Her stomach growled angrily back at him. Ah he did forget something today. He gently reached out as she looked at him under heavy lids, "Let's go eat." She gave a muffled agreement, searching for her clothes that appeared on the bed as Erik found them.
"Thank you," she said quickly dressing. She was unaware that he again was studying her bruises. Before he could ask if they hurt, she quickly stood up, ruffling her hair, "Shall we go?"
He nodded leading the way, her hand in his. He had many questions he wanted to ask but they all died upon his lips. What could he ask or say? He still didn't know and Christine felt the same. In the silence, she found other uses for their mouths, they didn't need to speak. She didn't want to talk of the past or the present. She knew there questions on the tip of his tongue from the concerned tone behind his casual words.
Erik had hoped they had missed dinner but entered into a bustling kitchen. Morine was shouting commands to a tall man who shouted back at her as he stood at the oven. "It's not my fault the boy was late with the pig!"
"Not again," Erik signed, quickly seating Christine on a stool near the door, before coming to Morine's side.
"Don't blame me old man! The butcher was trying to swindled money out of me!" A teenage boy shouted across the kitchen preparing food.
"You're always late!"
"Then don't make me go do errands across the goddamn town!"
"ENOUGH!" Both Erik and Morine shouted. The bickering two immediately stopped looking at them as they stood side by side.
"Jack do as you're told and have more pride in doing your chores since you refuse to attend your lessons. And John don't send him to the butcher three miles away if you don't want him late. There's one a half mile from here," Erik lectured.
"But that one has the good meat," John muttered back.
"No more sending him there. He'll go to the one nearby. He has to have time for his tutoring lessons," Morine said, eyeing Jack who crossed his arms and pouted.
"I'd rather get a dead pig from the crooked old man."
"No more from either of you," Erik said, "Jack set the table and get the others."
He rolled his eyes, then noticed Christine. "Hey who's she?"
Erik placed a hand on his back, pushing him out the door, "Just go!"
"I'm going. I'm going," he grumbled in the dining room glancing back at Christine.
Erik sighed, annoyed. He glimpsed back to see John and Morine looking at Christine who listened curiously. "John are you finished yet?" he snapped and John returned to his cooking. Erik gently took Christine by the hand and led her into the dining room.
The dining room had a too large of a table with overstuffed chairs in it. They sat on the end with her on the corner. She recognized the table, its overly ornate legs ending in lion claws and sharp corners that the ballet girls had bumped into one too many times in the backrooms. Her hands ran over the edge smiling and disbelieving, "How did you get this?"
"It was abandoned... I merely had someone go fetch it and gave it new life," he said running a hand over it as a rumble of voices came down the hall. A group of four led by Jack burst into the room.
"Erik, you brought company? How rare!" A woman greeted, smiling at Christine.
"This is Christine," he introduced, "Christine, this Jack, Anna, Claude and Danielle."
She nodded smiling at the figures draped in green, blue, white and black, "Hello."
They greeted her and she smiled back unaware of the burns that danced across Danielle's hands and arm, Claude missing a hand, Anna's limp and Jack's burned arms and white eye with jagged scar that ran across it from his forehead to his cheek. They talked amiably as they went into the kitchen to retrieve the plates and food, setting the table with a feast. Christine was lost as figures moved about and the room was loud with clattering plates and chatter. Erik remained next to her, grabbing bowls to fill both their plates, yelling at Jack who was next to him for hogging the bread and bickering with Morine who was right next to Jack about the wine she choose.
Christine ate quietly, not quite believing the scene around her or that the man next to her was once the phantom she knew. She listened as Erik and Jack get into an argument, apparently they moved passed Jack's bread hogging.
"You were not..."
"I was..."
"No way in hell you were ever an assassin!"
Christine paused looking up from her plate. Did she hear right?
"And the architect for the Shaw of Persia as well," Erik added.
Jack rolled his eyes. "You couldn't be that AND the Opera Phantom."
"Opera Ghost." Christine corrected, earning a shocked look from Jack, "And yes he was."
"Were you there?!"
"He was my tutor," she paused, looking at Erik as Morine's eyes narrowed at her.
Jack groaned in disappointment, "Lies! See he's just an old man who loves his damn books and music!"
Erik groaned putting his head in his hand, "You call me 'old' one more time and I will hang you."
"Hah! Like you can tie a noose."
"Then I'll bludgeon you with your history book about the French revolution first thing in the morning!"
"Not if I'm not home!" Jack shouted, Christine looked at him worried. She wouldn't have dared to talk back when she was his ageā¦
"Don't worry dear; Erik is truly all bark and no bite," Anne said to Christine, from across the table. Christine turned to her, as Erik growled at Jack. "The one who you should be worry about when they're angry is Morine here. Once a stonemason came here to fix the walls of what is now our living room. He gave Danielle here one wrong look and Morine slapped him so hard he had a mark like the rest of us for the entire time he was here!"
A mark like the rest of them?
Before Christine could ask, Erik let out an exasperated sigh, "Morine help me!"
"Nah, he's got a point..."
"What?" They both looked at her, even the others were now listening.
"Honestly you couldn't be all those things. Skills of an assassin, architect or composer take years to master. John here just barely mastered his cooking after twenty years. You've already proven to be a great scholar. So you couldn't be all those things, either you're lying or... you're old." She smiled sweetly as the room broke into laughter minus Christine.
Erik pinched the bridge of his nose, "You are not helping."
"I wasn't planning on it," she grinned as he glared, his lips even forming a pout.
Christine slowly lowered her fork. They knew more about him than she did... and they weren't afraid of him. He argued vehemently with the boy and woman but with a secret smile and a false harsh tone. What made her heart sink the most was that he was not wearing a mask, something that was once a part of him. She frowned, looking down, what had she hoped in following him? Did she want to find the mad lonely broken man that she didn't choose? She had no right to believe or even think he would be waiting for her.
He had found his place... and he was happy.
Erik turned midsentence to her when he noticed her head bow, "Christine?" He lifted her chin when she didn't look up at him.
Morine's chair screeched across the floorboards as she sharply stood up to answer the door that only she seemed to hear.
"I'm fine," Christine lied smiling and resisting the desire to lean into his touch.
The person at the door barged into the dining room like a storm. "THERE you are."
Christine knew Madame Giry's voice before she pulled her up from her seat, "Is this where you been all this time?! We thought you went missing!"
"Giry," Erik said standing up, "She's is welcome here and can stay if she wants." His eyes were on Christine who avoided his gaze, staring at the floor. Morine and Giry both shot angry him looks although Giry was more irritated.
"No she has a performance to practice for. The lead has laryngitis! And here you were hiding."
"What?" Christine said ignoring her glare. She had a role now?!
"Giry," Erik said his tone full of warning, his eyes motioned to the bruises on her neck.
"This doesn't concern you," she warned pulling Christine from the room and house without another word. Everyone silently stared at Erik who crossed his arms glaring at Morine who stood at the doorway glaring back.
In the carriage, Christine sharply to Giry, "You told me he was dead."
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