Angel or Father

Alonzo Rivaldi was as stubborn a man as God had ever placed upon the earth, but even he was not obstinate enough to evade Death. He had seen various doctors and been given the diagnosis of a cancerous lung disease from each, banned from his much loved tobacco, prescribed laudanum to ease his pains, which he refused to take, and given, at most, a year before the simple act of breathing would become all but impossible. He had, of course, been informed of this nearly eight months before and had hidden his condition from his family and friends until his failing health could no longer be disguised.

When Sophia brought their guests into her father's room, they found him sitting propped upon his pillows in the huge bed, and seeing him thus, she immediately admonished him, "Papa, you should be laying down. The doctor…"

"Hang the doctor," he wheezed before his traitorous body was seized by a violent fit of coughing. Sophia rushed to his side, attempting to soothe him as best she could.

Christine felt her heart tighten painfully at the scene, remembering all too clearly sitting by her own beloved father's bed side as he succumbed to his long battle with illness. As if sensing her memories, Erik squeezed her hand reassuringly and placed a feather light kiss to her temple. Her eyes fell closed against the painful scene before her and she felt more than a little awkward intruding into such a private moment.

Once Alonzo had recovered his breath, he waived Sophia away and nodded to his visitors. "Erik," he said between ragged breaths, "this is…your amore?"

"Yes." Erik pressed a supportive hand against Christine's back and guided her forward to the older man's bedside. "Christine Daaé," he said, "allow me to present Signor Alonzo Rivaldi."

"I am very pleased to finally meet you, signor. Erik has told me a great deal about you," she said with a gentle smile.

Alonzo reached out to her, and she placed her hand into his palm. He smiled up at her kindly and brought their joined hands to his dry lips to brush a kiss across her knuckles. Drawing back, he looked her over in careful consideration, much as Sophia had done earlier, and Christine once again felt a blush stain her cheeks.

"Bellissima," Alonzo said simply. Never taking his eyes from Christine, he addressed Erik, "Little wonder…my Isabella…could never catch…your eye…mio amico. When you had…one so lovely…waiting for you." Christine's blush deepened with his compliment, and Alonzo's smile widened. "Erik…tells me…you sing…like an angel. You will…for me…yes?"

Christine looked to Erik in question, uncertain if she should oblige such a request, and he answered with a smile and a nod of approval. "You must not refuse Alonzo, my dear. He will only hound you until you comply."

She returned her attention to the poor man before her and offered what she hoped was her brightest smile, asking, "What would you like to hear?"

Alonzo chuckled lightly; the action causing another fit of powerful coughs to wrack his fragile form. Christine stepped back to Erik's side as Sophia aided her father, and wiped at the tears on her cheeks, not wanting Alonzo to see her grief and pity. Sophia removed the excess pillows from her father's bed and helped him to recline fully. When he was settled, he whispered something into his daughter's ear, causing Sophia to gasp and raise a trembling hand to her mouth as she clearly struggled for composure.

Christine could feel Erik tense beside her and hear his heart speed, though he showed no outward sign of panic. Sophia drew a steadying breath and turned to the couple with tears streaming over her cheeks. "Papa," she whispered brokenly, "has requested the Requiem."

Christine gave up her battle with her own tears and looked to Erik for support. His own eyes were suspiciously moist, but he gave her a sad smile of encouragement. She took a few moments to compose herself, and returned to Alonzo's bedside. She did not warm her voice before she began, reasoning that she had done so earlier in the day after she had convinced Erik to dig out the violin he had stored away at the bottom of a trunk so that they might have an impromptu lesson.

Drawing a breath, Christine began to sing; her eyes focused on Alonzo and her voice growing stronger with every word.

'Requiem æternam dona eis, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat eis.
Te decet hymnus Deus, in Sion, et tibi reddetur votum in Ierusalem.
Exaudi orationem meam; ad te omnis caro veniet.
Requiem æternam dona eis, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat eis.¹ '

She was unaware of the gathering crowd behind her. The nurse had been the first to be drawn into the room, and was soon followed by Franco and the children. Sophia slipped into her husband's arms and listened as her father was serenaded by a heavenly voice.

When Christine finally allowed the final note to fade, she stood with tears streaming unabashedly from her eyes amidst a silent gathering of nearly the entire household. She felt emotionally drained, and she swayed slightly on her feet only to have Erik's strong arms encircle her from behind. Into the silence, Alonzo whispered, "Grazie, dolce angelo."

"Prego," Christine managed to respond.

She was pulled from the moment by Sophia, who pried her from Erik's arms to hug her tightly. "Grazie, grazie," she cried. "I have never heard anything so beautiful. You have made my father very happy, I know." Sophia released her with a watery smile. "Franco, take the signorina downstairs and give her something to drink. Papa must have rest now."

Franco nodded to his wife, seemingly speechless and plainly moved by the performance. Christine turned to Alonzo again, clasping his hand in hers. "Dormi bene," she whispered. He smiled and nodded, and she released his hand, moving to take Erik's arm.

Before they could follow Franco and the children out of the room, Alonzo stopped them with a hoarse, "Erik, un momento." Christine nodded to Erik in understanding and released his arm, wordlessly leaving the men to their privacy.

As Franco accompanied her to the parlor, she silently prayed for Alonzo Rivaldi, and wished with all of her heart that she might have the chance to know him better, knowing that such a better acquaintance was unlikely to be formed.

xXx

Erik stood stoically over Alonzo's bed as Sophia worriedly hovered next to him. The older man glared at his daughter, gesturing for her to go, and the two stubborn Italians stared at one another for long moments before Sophia finally shook her head in frustration and said to Erik, "Do not let him overtire himself."

"Of course not," Erik responded deferentially.

She gave a last warning look to her father. "If Erik is not downstairs in five minutes, I will be back. You hear me?" After a quick word to the nurse, she left the room.

Alonzo took Erik's hand in his and tightened his grip as much as he could. "Marry…the girl. Do not…let her…get away…again."

Erik swallowed heavily and nodded. "Do not worry, Alonzo. I rarely make the same mistake more than once." He had never told his mentor of his past in France, nor his unspeakable crimes, and he had certainly never made any mention of Christine until he had returned from Venice. Even then, he had only spoken in terms of their present connection, nothing of their history together. Yet Alonzo seemed to sense that she was the woman who had been so long in his heart.

"Good," the older man whispered. "I know…you will not…leave…your lady now…but you will see…to the business. Roberto…is a good boy." Alonzo smiled as he mentioned the young man whom he and Erik had taken on as an apprentice nearly a year ago, and Erik wondered now if he had been preparing for his own death even then. "Young," Alonzo continued, "but you…will guide him….and he will…do well."

They had discussed this before, of course, and Erik had given his word then that he would make certain that Alonzo's hard built business did not perish with him, though committing himself to such a task in Milan would be a difficult with Christine in Venice. Despite his selfish desire to focus only upon Christine, Erik again vowed, "I will see that everything is taken care of, my friend."

Alonzo nodded, saying with a smile, "Roberto…has…his eyes…on my…Isabella. Maybe…one of my girls….will yet…marry….an architect."

Erik chuckled at the man's single minded determination to finally claim a son-in-law from his beloved profession. "Perhaps. Now rest, Alonzo, or we will both have to answer to Sophia."

xXx

When Erik reappeared downstairs, it was to find Christine sitting in the parlor with cup of tea in her hands listening raptly to Franco dismantle the mythology of Faust. Her attention was completely stolen by her lover the moment that he entered the room, and she looked up with a smile.

Sophia stood and asked, "Papa?"

Erik said reassuringly, "He is resting comfortably now. The nurse is with him."

"Good," she nodded. "Supper is nearly ready. We are only waiting for Isabella to return from the cathedral."

No sooner had the words passed her lips, than the sound of the front door opening and closing could be heard from the foyer. A moment later, a stunning young woman entered the room, followed closely behind by a young man. Pausing, her eyes were immediately drawn to the man before her.

"Erik," she beamed, "I did not know you were coming to visit today!"

Christine noticed the way the girl's lovely face suddenly seemed to glow with pleasure, and felt an uncomfortable prickle of annoyance. Her eyes narrowed upon the girl smiling radiantly at Erik. She was a younger version of Sophia, with glossy black hair, sparkling blue eyes, and more curves than Christine could ever hope to have, even if she ate all the good Italian food in the world. She laid her cup aside and stood without realizing that she had done so, instinctively moving to Erik's side. The girl's eyes fell on Christine, and her smile instantly disappeared.

"Isabella," said Erik, "I would like to introduce you to Christine Daaé."

Isabella looked at her impassively, finally saying, "You are the French woman? The one Erik never spoke of before."

"Isabella," Sophia admonished. "You will be polite to our guests!"

The girl stiffened her spine and coldly looked at her sister, "I have asked Roberto to stay for supper. I hope you do not mind."

Shaking her head in tired acceptance of her younger sister's conceited air, she sighed, "Yes, he may stay." Turning to Christine, Sophia said apologetically, "My sister often speaks before she thinks. Please forgive her."

Christine forced a crooked smile, though she doubted that it was very convincing, and murmured, "Of course."

Isabelle huffed indignantly, and haughtily excused herself to refresh her appearance before supper, all but ignoring the poor young man, who must be Roberto, hovering dejectedly near the door of the parlor.

Christine glanced at Erik, who seemed either completely unaware of the girl's obvious adoration of him, or completely unconcerned by it. Inside she began to seethe, feeling the first unwelcome embers of jealousy smolder to life. She recalled what Alonzo had said about his daughter not being able to catch Erik's eye, and she wondered just how long the girl had been making the attempt.

And why did Erik fail to mention this to me?

The object of her wonderings ignored Isabella's behavior and instead addressed the young man. "Come here, Roberto. I would like you to meet Christine."

Roberto stepped obediently into the room, shyly dropping his gaze, and Christine found herself smiling at him. The boy (or rather man, for she suspected that he was older than she) was obviously rather intimidated by Erik, as were many men. He was not what one could call handsome; his nose was a touch crooked and his sandy brown hair stuck up in odd directions, but he had very nice eyes…a soft, pale blue.

"This is Roberto Cipriano," Erik said, "a promising young architect."

Roberto embarrassedly corrected, "I am only an apprentice, signorina."

"Erik seems to think that you have talent," she looked at her lover knowingly, "and I assure you that he has never been wrong about such things."

Roberto grinned suddenly, clearly pleased to have Christine reassure him of Erik's good opinion. "Grazie, signorina. I am very pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Enough with the small talk," interjected Sophia. "It is time to eat now."

As the party began to exit the parlor, Roberto flashed an endearingly lopsided smile at Christine, and Erik held her back from following the group, lowly teasing, "You have won over yet another adoring admirer, mon ange."

With a raised brow, she said, "And seemingly made an enemy."

He chuckled, "You are referring to Isabella?"

"You might have warned me that she fancied herself in love with you," she accused sourly.

His gemstone eyes grew wide and his visible eyebrow arched almost comically as he stuttered, "In love with me? You cannot be serious, Christine. She is but a child."

Christine glared at him. Could the man really be so utterly oblivious? "Hardly a child, Erik. She is older than I was when you took a romantic interest in me!"

He looked poised to argue with her when his face suddenly lit with understanding and a wicked grin curved his lips. "Can you really be jealous?"

She crossed her arms under he breasts and challenged, "Have I reason to be?"

His grin softened, and he lifted gentle fingers to lovingly caress her cheek. "You, more than anyone, know the answer to that."

He tipped her chin up and leaned down to press a chaste kiss to her lips, and her eyes fluttered closed in pleasure. She knew in her heart, in her very soul, that she had no reason to doubt Erik's love for her, yet she had never fully considered that another woman might want him. His past was too dark and frightening, and his temper at times unpredictable. Even she, who knew him so well, and knew that she could not be without him again, sometimes wondered if she must be mad to love him.

I welcome madness, she thought dreamily.

"We had best join the others, before Sophia comes looking for us," he said with a smile. She nodded and took his proffered hand, only to notice Isabella Rivaldi standing a few feet away with an icy look of disdain upon her beautiful face.

Supper was bound to be a memorable event.


¹Requiem - Verdi's version of the Mass premiered in Milan in 1874.

Italian:
Mio amico My friend
Grazie, dolce angelo Thank you, sweet angel
Prego You're welcome
Dormi bene Sleep well


A/N: I know that some of you are grinding your teeth over the yet-to-be-resolved ending of Chapter One, but all things must come in their time. I ask you to indulge me with your patience until Chapter Nine, when I will take you back to that opening scene. Please bear with me until then, which at my posting rate will be little more than one week from now.

I have gifted you with an extra chapter this week for your trouble.

Thank you to my faithful reviewers, and I hope you will continue to enjoy the story (even if I am taking my time leading you back to that dramatic introduction.)

I remain, your obedient authoress…pzp.