Chapter 7: A Home Under the Park

She had another close shift the next day, and this time she was partnered with Meg. These past few months, she had noticed a change in her friend. Christine seemed more confident and soothed. Nothing appeared to have changed in her life though, but she thought she might finally have put the pain of her parents' passing behind her.

And yet, today Christine was especially bright. She'd never seen her smile so warmly.

There had to be something.

"Out with it, now," she urged her, as they were still in the slow part of preparing the parade. "What's going on with you? You seem to have swallowed the sun."

"There's nothing, I'm not hiding anything."

"Sure, you're not. Come on, Christine. You know you can trust me."

She hesitated. Now that her friend asked, she felt she very much wanted to share what was in her heart and mind.

"There's a boy," she guessed. "Isn't there?"

"Well, yes. But Meg, you can't tell anyone. Promise me."

"I won't tell a soul. Now tell me. What happened?"

And so Christine told her of the letter, the meeting, and the lessons that followed. And she spoke of the day before, what he'd admitted.

"Heavens, Christine, he's in love with you, that's for sure. And you love him too, that's wonderful! What now?"

"He's very shy, so… I'm not going to push him."

Meg nodded.

"I'm glad for you. It's really nice to see you smile for real again."

And then guests came in, and the real work began, leaving no time to talk. And during lunch, they were surrounded and couldn't mention anything, and then for the Dreams, they were in different teams, Meg on the hub with the special abilities people, or SAP, and Christine near the back of the park, at the bridge between two parts of Adventureland. It was a position she liked for its pirate music and the calm it offered, ideal when she wanted to be alone.

And alone she now was, for the next hour and a half.

So she wasn't very much surprised when she heard his voice in the darkness.

"Not bored, are you, my dear?"

"Not at all. I can't wait to have our lesson…"

"So do I."

She tried to look for him, but he moved in shadows like he belonged and was born in them, so she couldn't spot him.

He was silent after that, but she knew he was still there, watching her.

"Shouldn't you be out there to watch the show? I can't be all that interesting…"

He chuckled softly.

"You are."

"Well, come out here so I can look at you too. It's not fair if you're the only one having fun."

The music seemed to be louder after that, as if he wanted to muffle any sounds.

And then here he was, all in black, with his Darth Vader mask. He was a real dramatic character, and it suited him, despite how strange and "bad show" it was to have a Sith lord on a wooden bridge next to a 18th century galleon.

"Good," she smiled. "Now we can talk. It's much better to have you for real."

She meant it. She liked being able to look at him, even if it was only a costume hiding him fully. At least his presence felt more real, his tall body and broad shoulders a comforting presence.

"I suspect the cameras can't see you, can they?"

"No they can't. They won't show us together, either, tonight. As far as anyone is concerned, you've been here doing your job, all alone."

"Perfect, that gives us time to talk. We'll sing later, if that's alright with you?"

"My dear, spending time with you has become enough for me. I delight in listening to your voice, but am content to only be with you."

She loved him for saying this out loud.

"Well… I must admit I feared you… You only ever liked my voice."

It nearly broke him, and he was quick to reassure her:

"At first, it might have been so, but, Christine, my dear, you could stop singing entirely and I would still be at your feet."

And he fell at her feet, holding her hands, to show her what he meant.

She squeezed her hands, and brought him to his feet, still fearing someone might come and see her.

"Have no fear, my dear," he said again. "No one will come and disturb you tonight. They know everything's alright in this part."

"How do you manage to stay here all the time? I mean… You live here, don't you? You move unseen, you have the cameras to do what you want…"

"The park has been my home ever since it opened. I participated in its construction, 20 years ago. I was young, and… The world didn't like me very much, so I preferred to remain here, unseen, to act as a managing director, of sorts. To help the place grow, and become the greatest it could be."

Twenty years ago… She knew he couldn't be her age, but to have him confirm it, like this… It was unexpected, as well, his answering her questions. And so she pressed him, slowly.

"You did a wonderful job, she said. I've come here with my parents, ever since it opened. I was too young to remember, of course, but… It was my home, away from home. And now, they're gone, and… It's become my home again. There is nowhere else I feel so… Like I belong, you know."

She looked around, her heart filling with love, the memories of a time long ago embedded in her skin, if not her brain, the emotions she felt then still flowing through her veins. . Perhaps that was why she still loved it so, even though she'd grown up and felt the darkness of loss, of losing hope and the comforts of childhood, despite knowing fully how it worked here, how it wasn't always sparkles and real stone. Somehow, coming here, despite knowing it by heart, she felt something no words could ever translate. An inner peace and joy no place else had ever given her. For her, the park has never been an attraction-filled place, but rather something akin to a childhood home, where her most cherished memories still lived, even if she'd been too small to remember them other than seeing them in pictures. The feeling was still attached to her bones, her very DNA, and reminded her of those times when her conscious brain could not.

"I am glad it has brought you joy and comfort."

"Would you show me your home, then? There has to be something, next to the music room, right?"

He hesitated, for a second, and then agreed, seeing the look of hope and wonder in her eyes.

"If it pleases you, then I shall."

Fireworks exploded in the sky then, signaling the start of the show. From there, she could barely see them, but knew the show enough to guess which part they were at.

"You're officially missing it, you know," she smiled.

"I don't care. I much prefer being here with you, my dear."

She nearly burst into tears, but took a deep breath, to calm her emotions spiraling out of control. And so she turned her thoughts to the show, starting to hum along, tuning her song to the rhythm of the exploding fireworks.

And then, she began to sing more loudly, and his voice joined her as well, as they were re-enacting this show they both loved. He might have been excellent at duets, but his voice shone as well in other, more unexpected roles. He was an eccentric Lumière, wonderfully funny as the genie, painfully real as Quasimodo, and then he let her sing her part alone in Frozen.

In Tangled, he added the male voice, just for her, and she nearly melted on the spot. His "now that I see you", their voices united again, touched a deep chord within her heart.

"I love you," she whispered, tears in her eyes, and took a step forward, holding him in her arms.

For a moment, he stood frozen, unable to move, unable to process the warm body close to his, the emotions too strong and deep for him to act. He wanted to savoir each breath he took with her there, each sigh she gave as she leaned into him, pressed her face to his chest. She was so small, next to him.

And then he held her tightly to him, his arms encircling her.

"I've always dreamt of doing that," she murmured in his chest, the vibration nice against his body. "Singing that song with someone, someone I love."

Now was the second time she said she loved him, and he still hadn't answered.

"I love you, my dear Christine. More than you can imagine."

She held him tighter after his confession, and then he gently broke free of her embrace. They heard the finale, as if it were far, far away from them, the last of the fireworks lighting the sky white, and the distant applause and cheering.

"I helped design it, the show, you know."

He didn't know why he said that, but he felt he wanted to tell her everything. Wanted for her to know him, these parts he felt so proud of, these long years spent trying to put more art and beauty and magic into the world, when the world had only brought him pain and misery. Now he could finally share his world with someone who understood what it meant to him.

"It's beautiful, and my favorite. The other shows, around the world, they… They're insignificant. This… People come from far away to see this, and all the applause, and cheering, it's for you."

They heard the closing announcement, and he felt it was time to go back to the shadows, until she finished and could join him.

"I will wait for you in the music room, my dear."

"I'll be down as fast as I can."

He held her hands, squeezed them, and then he was gone.

The air seemed much colder, without him there with her, and she shivered. Thankfully, time went by quickly as she waited for the radio announcement that all was clear, the fire crew gone to check everything, and the end of the dreams show. Her team coordinator went to tell her so, and they went back to the base, for the debriefing. Nothing had gone amiss, tonight. It'd been a calm day, and the guests had been pleasant. She joined Meg, squeezing her hand, her friend not missing the light in her eyes.

They badged out, and they quickly walked to the Ima building to get changed.

"You seem awfully happy, for such a late hour."

Christine shrugged, still smiling at the thought of soon coming back to see him.

"Well, it's the end of the day, isn't it? I'm just glad to go home."

"Come on, you're lying! Did you see him?"

She wanted to tell her, but at that time the lockers were packed with people, and she couldn't risk any word getting out.

"I'll text you about it, she promised. Now the walls have ears, you know."

For once, her friend agreed. There were few things ever remaining private, in DLP. Gossip was as much liked as anywhere else, and the youth and atmosphere didn't help.

Ready to leave, she kissed Meg goodbye, and returned to the park, hidden in shadows, her heart impatient to go back to him. She found the hidden door, and went through the dark corridors underneath, to his music room.

He was there, as promised, but this time, his mask didn't hide his eyes, nor his mouth.

"Hey," she told him, going to embrace him.

This time, too, he seemed a bit more prepared, holding her tight against him.

He didn't know how he now somehow deserved someone like her, how she could love him, when no one ever had before. But he was determined in taking everything he could, before something inevitably would send her away.

"My dear," he whispered on the top of her hair. "I trust the rest of your evening was pleasant."

"Colder," she admitted, "once you left. But you're here now, so… May I see your home?"

He stepped away, holding out his hand.

"As you wish, my dear."

She took it, and he brought her to the hidden door he'd first appeared from yesterday. Had it been only a day since then?

The room was similar to his music one. There was a violin in its case, music sheets everywhere, and a huge, magnificent organ. A music stand, too.

"How many instruments do you play?"

"Only these three, reasonably well. I have a working knowledge of several others, but these three are my favorite."

"You compose, right? When we began, I thought we did a song I never heard, and couldn't find afterwards."

"I do. I must say… You prove to be quite the inspiration."

She squeezed his hand, unable to find her voice to tell him how much this meant to her.

Then they went to another room, this time a living room with comfortable chairs, a sofa, and along the walls, bookcases filled with so many books her head spun. Books of fiction, nonfiction, art treaties, architecture, science, languages. He seemed to have a bit of everything down there. A nice architect and drawing desk stood, as well, several sheets of paper big enough to envelop her entirely, with new concepts and building designs on it. Even… Floats, for upcoming parades?

What surprised her, too, but shouldn't have, was another beautiful desk with a shiny, latest brand computer. Three screens, all locked on a drawing of her, and silent, softly humming. A graphic tablet as well.

And then she noticed the paintings. They were all of her. Some were small, barely a sheet of paper, others were huge, decorating a complete part of the wall.

How could she have missed it?

"All of these… They're… I mean… I'm not so beautiful…"

There was such longing, such adoration in the way she was represented. Like an angel, bright and luminescent, filled with light and warmth. Such tenderness, too, in the depth of her eyes, the shape of her smile. It was her, and yet, so much more than what she herself saw in the mirror.

"It is you. The way I see you, Christine."

He looked at her then, holding her gaze, for once not fearing to let her see how deeply he cared for her, how much he adored her, loved her.

"You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen."

His admission, so truthful, not a doubt in his eyes, so fully sincere, brought her to tears. She clung to him again, wishing to show him with her body, if not voice, how much that meant to her, how much she wished she could have a single bit of his talent to adequately pay tribute to his adoration.

"I'm nothing special, Erik. Just a woman, with a bit of a singing voice. That's all. You know nothing more about me."

It was the truth she felt in her bones, but she was suddenly desperate for more of his praise, the reassurance of his feelings. But she got that and more: his own doubts emerging.

"Why would you say that? You are extraordinary. Kind and gentle, and so full of light. You were able to put your faith in me, when you had no reasons to. You chose to trust me. You're warm and sincere and funny and confident. Why would you care about me? You said you loved me, Christine, but I'm… A recluse, hiding from the light, deceiving you to have you come to me… I can't… I can't show you who I am properly… You can't really love me… If I don't know about you, then you don't know about me, either."

"Please don't insult my feelings," she said, still a bit floored by his kind words of praise. "You are a genius, Erik. I mean. This room alone proves it. You're kind, and tender, and your heart… Your heart is full of creation. You have so much to give the world, and you have given so much… I wish… I wish you'd see it. I wish you could see how much joy you truly bring the world... You bring to me… I love you, for all of this, and for this heart… I don't need to know much of your past, I have guessed what you dared not confess. I won't ask you to share what you're not ready to do… I can only offer you my heart, my voice, the soul of a young singer, who was broken until she met you."

He fell to his knees again, at her feet and she saw tears, real tears in his eyes, before they were swallowed by his mask.

"My dear, my love… It is too much, so much more than I deserve…"

She took his hands, caressed them slowly, and brought him back to his feet. Slowly, again, she brought his hands to her waist, and her own to his face, cupping his cheeks.

He made to step back, fearing she would take off the mask, do something she'd regret, but she sensed him move, and kept him close.

"Don't worry, Angel. I promise I won't take it off, not until you're ready. I want you to be comfortable around me. Relax, hear how quickly your heart is beating?"

And she put her hand spread against his chest, feeling his heart fluttering madly, content to be there, his warmth seeping into her fingers.

It was an intimate gesture, and she should be ashamed of her boldness, but he didn't seem to mind, and she couldn't help herself. She had to show him, to touch him, how much she cared and wanted him, and yet how patient and understanding she'd pledged herself to be.

She wouldn't frighten him off. And yet, her hands slowly began to caress his chest, a soothing gesture, and he closed his eyes, sighing, his hands coming over hers.

"There. It's quieter now," she whispered, still keeping her hand there, their fingers entwined.

He opened his eyes.

"Would you like to sing?" He asked, shy and his voice low and deep.

"Only if you accompany me."

He returned to the music room, bringing back the violin. When he started to play, she felt faint and had to sit.

The barest note had her breaking, great sobs overwhelming her.

He stopped then, but at her look, he started again, humming along, a soothing lullaby.

He let her cry, his own heart breaking with her despair.

But she needed it. The emotions she'd always held back, came hurling back to her, deep and intense and furious.

The violin had brought her back when her parents were alive. She'd never heard it live since, had banished it from her life as her parents had been. And here, his playing, soft and yet haunting, had reminded her so greatly, acutely of them, of that time, she hadn't been able to resist.

So she cried, let it go, letting his voice bring her back to the present.

When he saw she had calmed a little, he brought the melody to its bright, warm end, in a final lifting, long note.

Then he set the instrument down, and came to kneel to take her hands into his.

"I didn't mean to make you cry," he whispered.

"You play beautifully. I'd never thought I'd hear a song better than my parents' duet, but you proved me wrong. Please, let us sing."

"As you wish, dearest."

Dearest. A new word, one he'd never used for her yet. And she loved it.

"Would you try this one?"

He held a music sheet in his hands, as if it'd magically appeared there.

"You composed it? Yes please."

He started playing again, softly, closing his eyes, getting lost in the music.

And then it was her cue. She started to sing, following the lyrics written on the page, nearly shyly at first. The violin was there behind her voice, just loud enough to complete her singing, to compliment her voice, as if the arrangement was built around her voice. It made it more beautiful, shining bright and warm and loud, the violin bringing a deep, haunting quality to it, and it grew different again. As if the violin was chasing her, serenading her, answering her, a new duet between the two.

And she went quiet, as the violin grew again alone, nearly overwhelmingly loud and strong, until it gave way to her new favorite sound: his voice. As if the violin had been his, until it shifted, transformed into a human voice.

As if the spell had been broken, allowing him to speak.

As if the mermaid had given the sailor his voice back, changing the story.

Their voices united again, together at last, and she took his hands, looking in his eyes, lost in them, not even needing the sheets to finish their last chorus.

The music came at an end, a beautiful, hopeful end, and she couldn't take it anymore.

She kissed him.

Fully on the lips, surprising herself with her gesture, and yet completely unrepentant.

She caressed his lips with hers, as he failed to react, and she took his lapels between her hands, bringing him closer, urgent and demanding.

Kiss me back, she wanted to tell him through her moves.

But he didn't. He stayed frozen again.

So she stepped back, her cheeks growing pink.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I… I thought… Well, I thought you might want it too…"

He seemed to finally understand what was going on, what she said, what she wanted, and he took her hands back in his…

"You kissed me…"

This beautiful woman, unafraid and kind, had kissed him. Had brought her face so close to him so as to touch his skin with her lips. He'd felt her, soft and warm, but something had snapped inside of him, as if unable to move, terrified to make a wrong move and make her stop.

"Why did you stop?" he asked softly.

She giggled nervously. Oh gods… That would be awkward.

"You're supposed to kiss me back," she said. "You didn't, and… I thought I was causing you distress, but you didn't dare push me away."

Oh… Oh… Maybe his readings were a bit lacking, then, it seemed.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I… I'm afraid I'm not very good with that."

She smiled, and stepped back towards him.

"Relax. Stop thinking, and let your body do what it wants to do. It knows, even if you don't. Come here," she whispered, as she brought her lips back to his.

She was even slower than the first time, taking her time to caress his lips, gently, bringing one hand to his cheek, the other to his hand, to put it on her own neck. He seemed to understand, then, and brought the other hand to cup her neck, his eyes closed, as he finally kissed her back.

She sighed.

Now, that was a kiss. It was tender, and sweet, and yet she didn't feel the need for more.

Not yet.

He seemed so afraid of his body, of her own, too, as if he'd never felt these urges inside of him. But she would be patient, to show him, to make him learn to feel with his skin, his hands, his lips. And if he was as dedicated to learning this as he was for other things, she had no worries for the future.


I'm always surprised to see you all reading and enjoying it! Thank you so much! Have no fear, I'm writing what happens next and plan on posting nearly every day as long as I am able. Please don't hesitate if you have more questions about the fic, that pairing, or more about Disneyland Paris in general. As you may have guessed, I'm a big, big fan. The music for the show Disney Dreams is real and true to the timing of the story, so you can listen to it as you read, to give you the proper background ;) That was the summer of 2016. Hoping you enjoyed that chapter and that first kiss!