Just to clear up some apparent confusion: like stated in the summary, this story is a sequel. I'm sorry if that was unclear to some. This fic is a sequel to a story I wrote a couple years ago called Anathema. If you don't want to read that one, I'm sure you'll be able to follow along okay, but I do recommend you read it, as this sequel references a lot of events from Anathema. As always, thank you so much for the reviews. Please enjoy.
Her lungs were burning, and there was a painful stitch in her side, but Christine pressed on, the chilly early winter air stinging her cheeks and nose. The day was clear and bright and cold, and she pulled her coat tighter around herself, coughing a little at the air that was drying out her throat.
Fingers numb and shaking, she ran over to the door in the alleyway and unlocked it, entering into the dark building and grabbing the flashlight. She nearly tripped and fell on her face in her haste, but luckily she was able to catch herself.
Her heart was bursting, and she couldn't stop smiling. She could only imagine what he would say.
At last, she got to the house, and she threw the door open. "Erik!" she cried, panting heavily from her run.
He stepped into the front room from the piano. "You're back," he said.
Tossing the flashlight aside, she ran to him and practically jumped on him. He gave a pained, short shout of surprise and took a few steps back to brace himself. She then remembered his leg and hastily pulled away.
"Sorry!" she said. "Did I hurt you?"
He shook his head, but his hand went to his leg, and she bit her lip.
"It's no matter," he said when she tried to apologize again. "It is nothing. Tell me how your audition went."
"Oh! Well...I did it!" she exclaimed happily, bouncing up and down on her toes in excitement. "I did it! I sang so well. I know I did! It was amazing!"
His bottom lip stretched into something of a smile. "Of course it was. You are sublime."
Unable to help herself, she stepped closer to him and leaned up on tiptoe to press a few kisses to his lower lip, her heart still racing and the elation from her success washing over her. And he was the one who had pushed her to succeed.
To her surprise, he pulled away and frowned at her. "Are you unwell?" he then asked, sounding concerned.
"What? No, I'm fine," she said, pushing her hair behind her shoulders.
"You don't look well," he said, looking at her closely. "You are pale. Yet flushed."
"I was—I hurried to get down here to tell you," she panted. "I guess maybe I'm a little beat, that's all."
"Sit," he said, taking her arm and guiding her over to the couch. She did so gratefully, as she was feeling just a little unsteady from the run and the adrenaline. "Rest here," he continued. "Take off your shoes and coat. Wait for a moment."
She did as he said, leaning back against the couch and sighing. The audition and the run back and the kiss had put her in a weird mood, and she tried to bring herself back down to earth and orient herself.
He returned with a blanket and a cup of tea, and he tucked the blanket around her before handing her the drink. She smiled in response.
"Thanks," she murmured.
"Now," he said, sitting beside her again. "Tell me, my dear. How was your audition?"
"Amazing," she replied, closing her eyes at the thought. "Well...yeah. I was really nervous at first, obviously. But it went so well."
She had arrived at the location with fear and determination and anxiety and excitement in her heart. It was a smaller theater, one with one of those big vertical signs in the front of it. She had heard of the place but had never been, and she went through the doors with a little trepidation, trying hard to mentally pep talk some confidence in herself. Erik said she could do it. She had the talent. She just needed to believe that she did.
There was a small table in the front lobby, and a heavyset woman sat behind it with a bored expression on her face.
"Auditions?" she said dully.
Christine nodded and approached, trying to look confident.
"Name," the woman said, looking down at a list.
"Christine Daae."
The woman found her name on the list, checked it off, and pointed to a set of doors. "Through there, down to the right. Second door on the left."
"Thank you."
The woman didn't even glance up at her again, and Christine felt her stomach somersault as she pushed her way through the door and into a richly-carpeted hallway. Following the woman's instructions, she turned right and headed for the second door on the left. Before entering, she paused and said a silent prayer to help her and help calm her nerves. Then she pulled the door open and stepped through.
It was a brightly-lit room with a few haphazard rows of chairs. Four other girls sat there, looking at her. There was another table, and three people sat behind it. One of them, a middle-aged man with dirty blond hair, looked at her.
"Here to audition, sweetheart?" he said, examining her not unkindly.
She nodded.
He pointed to the chairs by the other girls. "Go ahead and have a seat. We'll get started in a sec."
Trying not to look nervous, she walked over and slowly sat down, forcing a smile at the girls seated next to her. They smiled back. One of them, skinny with glowing skin and beautiful red hair, leaned over and whispered, "I love your dress."
"Oh, thanks," she said, glancing down at the frock-like purple dress Erik had given to her a couple days ago. She had told him that she was just going to wear her red dress again, but he had ignored her and had given it to her anyway.
Before she could say anything else in response, the blond-haired man walked over to them. All the other girls sat up in rapt attention. Christine followed suit, beginning to feel intimidated. They were all so beautiful...and looked seasoned and confident and yet still young and fresh. She wondered how she looked, what kind of impression she gave.
"Thanks for coming to sing for us today, girls," the man said. "I'm Richard Hoffmann. I'll be directing this show. We're just gonna make this easy for you and ask you to sing sixteen bars each. Nice and simple. Who'd like to go first?"
"I would," said one of them immediately, standing. She had long, shiny blonde hair, and Christine watched it swish behind her back as she made her way up near the piano and handed over her music and resume.
It was interesting to watch other auditions, as Christine had never really seen them before. The blonde girl looked very confident and sang a pretty aria that Erik had taught Christine early on in their lessons. While her voice was good, Christine could hear just a little bit of strain for the higher notes, something she never would have noticed two years ago.
Two other girls went before Christine built up enough nerve to volunteer herself. The second girl, the redhead, was extremely talented, and Christine had felt too afraid to try to follow her powerhouse audition. However, the third girl had fumbled for a couple notes near the beginning and looked a little embarrassed as she sat down. Christine felt a pang of empathy; she knew that feeling all too well.
She handed over the music and her resume and took her place, taking a deep breath and trying her best to squash all the nerves and nagging doubts.
"You're Christine Daae?" Mr. Hoffmann then asked, looking up at her from the resume.
"Yes," she said slowly. Was that a bad thing again?
"So you're the girl Reyer sent," he said, smiling a little. "He gave you a pretty glowing review."
"Oh." She tried to smile back. "That's...really nice of him."
"Well, then. Let's see if you live up to it." He leaned back in his chair expectantly.
The introduction started, and she took a deep breath, recalling Erik's words.
I'm scared. What if I can't do it?
Such a thought has never once crossed my mind.
The music came to her, like a sweeping, rushing tidal wave, and she closed her eyes for a moment and then gave herself over to it, letting it take her, engulf her, drown her in its loving embrace. There was oxygen when there was music, and she sang, remembering that feeling she had had that first time, with Erik in that run-down little theater, when she had...what had he said? Given her soul to him. Maybe in a way she had. He was music.
The sixteen bars went by quickly, and she let the last note ring a little longer than normal. Applause followed, and she looked to see the director smiling widely at her. The other girls were clapping as well, but two of them were looking at her in an annoyed, unfriendly way. The redhead, however, was smiling widely.
"Thanks so much, Christine," Mr. Hoffmann said, leaning forward across the table. "It was something special to listen to you today."
Christine nodded and went to sit back down, stunned yet again. But this time, her disbelief was one of joy. She had done it! She had performed well! No one had laughed at her...She had listened to Erik and had tried again for her dream. The feeling was wonderful.
The last girl got up and looked to be nearly in tears. Christine suddenly felt bad for her. Maybe I should have gone last. The girl sang dutifully, trying her best, but afterward, the applause was considerably shorter and less enthused than it had been for Christine. Christine clapped hard and tried to ignore the blonde girl who shot her an annoyed glance.
The three people behind the table whispered together for a minute before Mr. Hoffmann stood again. He went back and handed Christine and the blonde girl a large envelope.
"Those contain your contracts and your rehearsal schedule, should you two choose to accept," he said. "Bring back the signed contract by next Thursday. Thanks so much to you other girls for coming out. We'll let you know if we have anything opening up for you."
Christine clutched the envelope tightly. That was it? She had gotten the part? She glanced to the blonde girl who was sliding the envelope in her large red purse with a smile. The girl who had sung last left the room quickly, tears in her eyes. The other three watched her go as well and then picked up their bags and shuffled out.
Quickly, she gathered up her things and hurried out behind them, not wanting to be left alone with the three people behind the table.
The lobby was empty now, the heavyset woman and the table gone, and Christine saw that the redheaded girl was standing by the doors, texting someone and looking disappointed. Nervous and unsure, Christine nevertheless approached her.
"Uh...hi," she said stupidly. Then she blushed. The redhead glanced over at her.
"Hi," was her response.
"Heh. Um, yeah. Anyway." Her blush intensified. Why couldn't she just talk to others like a normal person? "I just...wanted to tell you. I thought you sounded amazing in there. Like...really amazing. You're really talented."
"Thanks," the redhead said, smiling a little. "That means a lot, coming from you. I'm just glad I wasn't that last one who had to sing after you. Poor girl."
"Yeah," Christine said. "Actually, I was too afraid to go after you."
The girl laughed. "Really? Wow. Are you sure you're not just saying this to try to make me feel better?"
"No, I'm serious," Christine said earnestly. "I thought you were the best one there. I can't believe they didn't pick you."
"Yeah, well…" The girl frowned deeply. "There's no way they would pick me over you. And that blonde girl is Catherine Abramson."
"Who?"
"Her dad's some big, fancy, rich executive producer...something. Anyway, point is, she's got the name. So they were gonna pick her from the start. But it's okay." The redhead smiled again. "I have another audition next week. At least you won't be there. And I mean that in the nicest way possible."
Christine laughed. "Well, good luck. And...really. You were the best one in there."
"Thanks again. That's really nice of you to say." She tilted her head slightly, her smile softening. "I'm Diane."
"Christine."
They had then parted, and as she stepped out and into the chilly day, Christine had suddenly felt the rush of it overwhelm her again. She had done it. Her steps had picked up, and she had rushed home, eager to tell him.
Erik was practically purring with pleasure by the end of her story. He pulled the envelope out of her bag and read over the contract, nodding occasionally.
"You will be perfect," he said. "This is just the beginning."
Christine sighed and set the empty cup to the side before shuffling over to snuggle him. Erik wasn't exactly comfortable or cuddly, but he never pushed her away when she was feeling particularly touchy. She pulled the blanket over him as well and put her head on his bony chest. His heart beat steadily underneath her ear.
"I wish I could've done it without your connections," she admitted. "I feel bad."
"The audition was the only thing I arranged. As soon as they heard your talent, you were selected."
"Yeah maybe, but that redhead girl," she said sadly. "Diane. She was so good. But then that blonde girl got it instead just because her dad's rich, and Diane was better. It's not fair."
"No," he commented vaguely, his bony fingers pulling on her curls. "It isn't."
"I wish I could do something about it," she said. He chuckled.
"Considering becoming a social activist, eh?" he said. She huffed and was silent, indignant.
"My dear little wife, you cannot right all the wrongs in the world," he then said.
"That doesn't mean I shouldn't try to help," she insisted.
He briefly ran his fingers over her forehead and cheeks. "Sweet girl," he murmured.
Christine actually snorted a little. "Yeah, okay..." she said, yawning. She curled deeper into him, trying to get comfortable on his ribcage. He grunted as she adjusted herself, and she murmured an apology for hurting him before finding something comfortable for the both of them. Erik was stroking her curls, and that, combined with the beat of his heart, lulled her into a deep, refreshing sleep.
Rehearsals were going to start up right after Christmas. Christine would be playing a girl in an opera called Prométhée. She wasn't familiar with it at all, but she was excited, and not even Erik's criticisms of the work lessened her enthusiasm. A few days afterward, they began their work on it. Although the music was contemporary like Elektra had been, she began to enjoy the work they were putting into it and looked forward to rehearsals. Perhaps a new friend awaited her there, like Meg had been in the Opera House. This time, she told herself, she would do better and be a better friend. There was so much to look forward to, and she worked hard to embrace the role that she had been given, still feeling lucky that her dream was coming true.
December had arrived with cold, sudden bursts of snow and chilly winds that drove her indoors, and as the stores and shops around the city had begun to hang lights and wreaths and garland around their displays, Christine had looked on longingly.
She was at first hesitant when she began to smuggle down Christmas decorations. Erik had actually thrown out a happy little porcelain snowman she had tried to put on his piano. Disgusting, he had said with a snarl. That had almost convinced her to stop. But then she had furtively put a few small evergreen tree statues on the bookshelf and they remained there, which encouraged her. He would allow it, it seemed...but only in small doses. And probably nothing too commercialized and bright, like the snowman had been.
So she had put a few candles on the table in the kitchen, baked a gingerbread house, placed a nativity set in the front room (it surprised her a little when it remained), and looked forlornly at the tree-less room. It took her a solid week of begging, and it had included verbal pleas, big, sad eyes, hints, kisses, promises, lots of touches and cuddling, and even a few tears before he had relented.
It was now standing in the corner, and she had thanked him over and over again, squealing with delight and excitement.
She was sitting on the floor next to it, trying hard to untangle a string of Christmas lights. They were being stubborn. Erik was pointedly ignoring the whole scene, reading a book in his chair instead. She didn't even try to ask if he wanted to join her. The tree was enough of a Christmas miracle from him.
Last year, Christmas had slipped by without any celebration on her part. There had been no friends, and definitely no family. The only semi-festive thing she could drag herself to do was to flip on the radio to some carols. They had made her cry. Definitely a low point, she decided.
"Can you believe it's been two whole years?" she then said.
"Two years?" he echoed from his chair.
"Since we first met!" she exclaimed. "Well...not exactly 'met.' But still. Two years."
He was silent.
"Wow, it's so crazy to think back on it," she continued, tugging at the cord. She worked for a little while longer, at last wrangling something manageable out of the lights, and she wrapped them around the tiny tree. Knowing that he would probably get upset if she asked him about any special holiday traditions he had had as a child, she instead chatted to him absentmindedly about her own.
"Since I was the only child, I was obviously always St. Lucia," she said, pulling out little round ornaments and hanging them up. "I could never wait to put up the tree, though, so we always set it up December thirteenth, too, instead of waiting until Christmas Eve. Dad said Mom always insisted on going to Mass at midnight, so that's why I was there that night in the park. I was going to go to Mass, but then...Well, anyway. It was a bad night. But Dad always liked the Christmas Masses. Maybe we could go together this year! I didn't go last year. Christmas last year kinda just didn't happen...heh. But I'm excited for this year! I'm going to make something really special for Christmas Eve, and you have to eat it all because I'm going to work really hard on it."
He continued in his silence and didn't seem annoyed by her babbling, so she chattered until the tree was decorated. It was fake, as he had absolutely refused to drag a real pine tree down, but with the lights and little ornaments, it turned out nice.
"There!" she said at last, stepping back to admire it. "It looks pretty. It's so small and cute! But I think it's perfect. Don't you think so?"
He grunted, not even glancing over, and she laughed and fell back onto the couch.
"That was fun," she said, leaning into the armrest. She closed her eyes for a moment and then said, "Are you hungry?"
Predictably, his response was negative.
"Good," she said with a little sigh. "I'm too tired to make dinner." Then she suddenly yawned widely, pressing a hand over her mouth. "Geez, I'm so tired. What's wrong with me? I slept fine last night…"
"A change of the seasons, most likely," Erik said. "And you have not been eating well lately."
"Hmm? Oh." He had noticed her diet. Clumsily and lamely, she tried to make up an excuse: "Well...it's not fun...just cooking for one person. So I'm just eating stuff that's easy and fast...'cause you won't eat with me. Besides," she said. "You're the last person who should be accusing someone of not eating enough."
"I am perfectly healthy," he said.
She resisted rolling her eyes and instead closed them, wanting him to come sit next to her, but he didn't move. She yawned again, thinking of her gift for him.
She wondered if Erik would get her anything. Probably. Maybe. She didn't know. But she resolved not to be hurt if it slipped his mind. It wasn't as if he had had anyone with whom to exchange presents or to celebrate. No family or friends...
"Erik," she said suddenly, opening her eyes in thought. "What's Nadir Khan doing?"
"Why should I know that?" he said.
"Because you two are friends," she said. "And now I'm worried about him. We haven't seen him in...months."
"What bliss," he said.
She laughed a little, unable to help herself, and then said, "But seriously. We should invite him over sometime. We owe him a lot."
"A hole in my leg and chest, of course," he said shortly, pressing a hand over the one near his stomach.
"...Sorry," she whispered after a moment of silence. He waved his hand as if brushing it aside, and she continued, "If you don't want Mr. Khan over, we won't have him over. I just thought...I mean, he was getting you medicine and stuff. And you said you were kinda friends...Like that one time I came down early and he was here. You two seemed to be friends then..."
He tapped his fingers on the armrest, his book on his knee, watching her with puzzled eyes.
After a few moments, he sighed. "Very well. If it will please you, he may come."
"Really?" she said. "Okay! I mean, it doesn't have to be right away. Maybe after Christmas sometime." She paused again. "And...and we'll make sure he's unarmed, okay?"
To her complete surprise, Erik laughed. And she did as well.