Chapter 10: Morning After?

Nadir trudged through the dark streets. It was almost sunrise, but he wished time would slow so he could go about everything in secret. He was walking this time, as opposed to flying or getting a cab, since anyone who saw him could easily turn against him or report him for suspicious activity. Besides that, walking with a heavy case in hand was nothing unusual, at least for weak fliers.

This part of town was not the best. It was a place of hard labour, mining deep in the earth, mostly done by wingless. Weapons were outlawed, of course, but nothing would stop anyone from carrying a knife or some other sharp metal implement. To Nadir, however, this was the usual. His dealings with Erik had always brought him to the extremes in the world, for better or for worse. In this case, he was taking a route around the main city to avoid prying eyes.

There were some early birds out, likely those who had taken a graveyard shift and were just getting off. They didn't give him so much as a second glance. Perhaps they think I am a boss of some kind, or someone who has had dealings with their employers. At any rate, he felt…not comfortable, but better than usual. He knew it was because this was a better adventure than he'd had in years, and chided himself over it. Keep going for thrills, Khan, and you'll never settle down.

He was coming up against a nicer neighbourhood now, where very few people were up. It would still be some time before he reached Christine's place, which resided in a rather luxurious area with great expanses of green and multiple stories with balconies to land on and complex, visually appealing perches. It would still be many more minutes before he reached his destination.

He dreaded his arrival, however. Erik was changeable, and who knew what developments had taken place concerning this woman he now resided with? What if he was no longer there?

Nadir took a deep breath and kept walking. He was just going to clip Erik's wings. That was all. Then everything would be over, and he could go back. He could finally have a woman, and maybe even a family.

…

Christine wanted to just pretend like the previous night had never happened, but that was not a choice. (She also wanted to undress and change into something more comfortable, but that was a choice, and one easily made at that.) Things had remained unsolved, and she didn't want to let those wounds fester, especially regarding Erik. Festering didn't go down well with him.

So, instead of walking in with as bright a smile as possible, she walked into the main room and kitchenette with a brave face and an apology on her lips. Erik was at the small stove. His coat was on, and she couldn't stand it. He thinks he has to hide, but he doesn't know that his isn't very ugly at all; at least, not to me.

Ugly hate swelled in her chest for his tormentors. What had they done to him to make him so afraid? What abuses and insults had he endured? But I can't think of that now. It's a beautiful morning, and a new time. She stepped over to him. He had undoubtedly known the moment she'd gotten out of her bed, thanks to squeaking metal springs under the memory foam and generous pillows, but he didn't look up.

"Good morning." No reply. He just went on (very tensely) stirring around the bacon in the pan. "Listen, I'm sorry about last…yesterday. I shouldn't have pushed you or asked anything so quickly." He paused, and gave her a side-eye, and skeptical though it was, she could see that he had already forgiven her. Or maybe there was nothing to forgive? "And, you know, attempting to kick down your door…" she said sheepishly. "But to be fair, you didn't answer when I knocked!"

"On the contrary, I think I should apologise to you," he said. He wasn't exactly smiling, but the corners of his mouth were tipped up, like he was caught between wanting to laugh and wanting to look serious. After all, it was a serious matter they were discussing. "After some thought, I find that I was rather too wrapped up in self-pity to think clearly." He looked down at the sizzling bacon again. "I didn't stop to think that maybe these children are not like me. After all, they have spent significantly less time with the scientists." He heaved a sigh. "Maybe I was just the test drive, for them to see how much one creature could withstand. Or maybe how much they could break me."

Christine's smile faded, but she was still glad. He understood her point of view now, though they'd need to work on communicating in the future. "So we're good?" she nudged hopefully.

"Define good," he said, prodding the hissing meat.

"Good meaning…you'll take the kids in until they have someplace else to stay." He was quiet, so she continued awkwardly. "And that we can have this…friendship?" Another pause filled by the sounds of bacon being scraped onto a plate. "Er…relationship?"

Erik almost dropped the pan and spatula, whirling around in surprise. It hit the stovetop with a clang. "Y-you want… I mean, I…" The sudden loss of his fluency in English caused him to switch to another language and proceed to stammer in that one too. "Facere m-me vis?" She wants me? Oh, I hope she wants me. That would be everything.

"Accedebant blanditiae aliquid fiet, illam nolui," she replied smiling. He needs to work on his charm skills, but now… Now he's still quite appealing.

Then he ducked his head, realising his lapse in speech. Christine's grin widened as he turned pink enough under his pale complexion that some of the scars on his cheeks were invisible. "Sorry, I…"

"That's fine, I took Latin in high school." Then she giggled, feeling like a lovesick middle-schooler. "'You're cute when you blush.'" Erik faked outrage.

"And quoting a dead drag queen is the most romantic thing you can say? If anyone needs to work on wooing, it's you…" He bent and kissed her hand as he had in their very first days in the apartment, "…my lady," he added.

It was her turn to blush. His lips on her hand were warm but rough, and his fingers were cool despite their nearness to the stove. "Don't mock the dead, that's disrespectful!" He released her hand and waved the spatula at her.

"You forget, dear lady, that I am dead- or at least, I look so under the coat." She stared at that. It was the first time he'd been so casual about that which he considered a curse upon his being.

"You don't look dead to me." And she meant it, too. He just hummed and looked away. "You don't have to wear it, you know. It's not like I haven't seen them before."

His shoulders rolled a little uncomfortably, and she could almost make out the joints at the apexes of his wings, like modified wrists. They were bent at an angle to small to be at rest. "I feel less…exposed when I have this coat on. While it is true that I do not wish to be looked at, it is also true that I have become accustomed to protective outerwear."

"You mean restrictive outerwear," she corrected gently, and took the spatula from him to set it in the sink, off to the side. Then she leaned forward and fingered the edge of the stiff leather. "That can't be comfortable." She looked up at him, into his uncertain gold eyes. "Why don't you take it off? It's just you and me, you know. No one will see you but me, if that's what you want."

She's so close… They hadn't been so close together since the night before, and then she'd been unconscious. He'd lie if he said that this closeness didn't provoke visions of passionate embraces and kisses everywhere. "Um," he said eloquently.

He almost cursed the development of cellular phones when Christine pulled away to answer a call. "Sorry, Erik, it's Meg. I have to pick up or she'll think I've been murdered." All he could do was nod and grunt as a reply. Damn!

"Hi… Yes, I know you texted me, I was just talking to Erik." She paused and pursed her lips. "I don't have any classes today, remember? I always keep Fridays free." Then she grinned and laughed, and to Erik, it was like her: breathtaking. "Alright, I'll meet you tonight for the concert. Hey, can Erik come?" His eyes widened and he shook his head furiously. He could not be seen! She grinned again, and this time it was a little- actually, a lot sadistic. The next thing she said was crushing. "Yeah? That's great! I'll pay you back for the tickets, I promise."

He laid his head in his hands. Being out in public again, even with Christine was an anxious undertaking, to be sure. "Christine…" She just shushed him. His mouth fell open indignantly.

Then she made a face. "Dress up? Just what kind of show is this?…" Then she was smiling brilliantly again. "Should've known you'd want to be fancy, even for this kind of thing. All right… Bye." Then she hung up with a tap.

"I'm not going. I don't want to go out."

"Oh, come on! It's not like you have to perform! We got the best seats in the house!" He cracked an egg into the skillet and shook his head firmly.

"No." The egg's spilled albumin guts began to denature and turn white.

"Erik, you look perfectly fine." He huffed.

"I do not. Even with this coat, I still look like one of your movie super villains. And not the devilishly attractive ones." He scraped the egg from the metal and flipped it over.

"You don't have to be seen once we get seats…" she sighed, "though I'd prefer to be next to you during the show," she murmured softly. He gave her a somewhat suspicious look, and she burst out laughing at his next sentence.

"Is this a date?" He planted his hands on his hips in indignation over her mirth. "It was a valid question; why do you laugh?" Christine forced herself to breathe, but the pure joy on her face never faded, and Erik was thoroughly enchanted; although for his intended purposes, he hid the feeling.

"It is, if you want it to be," she said at last. Her face was flushed, and he wondered if he was the cause. "That said, though, I…haven't gone on many dates myself." This, much to his shame, caused a rush of relief.

"Really? One would think you to be the most eligible young woman available," he said, lowering his voice slightly. It wasn't a conscious action, from what Christine could tell, but from the way she felt her face burning, it was certainly effective. There was almost a purring texture to his voice that spent her mind spinning. Is this what he sounds like flirting? He's definitely flirting, though I'm not sure how he's doing it without any experience. Maybe he just reads me very well. He must be a wonderful singer, he has amazing resonance, oh- what would it be like to sing a duet with him? And why didn't I notice that before?

"Christine?"

"Uh?" she said clumsily, groping in her frantic brain for words. Then she regrouped and managed to speak without embarrassing herself any further. "No, not eligible. Just…not what anyone else was exactly looking for." She shook her head and decided to turn the conversation to a topic not based on her insecurities. Erik didn't need any more things to worry over. He had more than his fair share of horrible things to deal with.

She breathed deep, and bacon and eggs made her mouth water. "So, is that a breakfast for two, or should I make my own?"

Erik snorted. "Well, it's not healthy to eat this much pork fat alone, so…" It was easier than admitting he'd noticed Christine's penchant for bingeing on junk food and wanted to introduce her to the wonderful world of gourmet. His little angel had to have something more than processed salt and starch in her diet.

He rolled his shoulders again, feeling the effects of momentary freedom. His wings wanted their space, but if he had his way, they would not interfere with his (so far) lovely morning.

"You should take that off, if it's not comfortable."
He stiffened. Of course Fate wants to cheat me. "I'm afraid that's not an option, Christine. If I took this off to be comfortable, it would make you uncomfortable." She took a plate of breakfast protein from his still hands and sat down at the counter. Her smile was the gentle, compassionate one she'd told him to memorise.

"Try me." She popped a piece of crisped meat into her mouth with deft grace. With a sudden look of reckless determination, he did try her. He stripped off the coat, and it fell to the ground after a moment's wriggling. Eye contact was hard, but he managed to watch her eyes survey his ruined body.

Her expression was one of slight curiosity, but mostly sympathy. "I… I understand why you're so reluctant." Lines had been carved into him in the most sensitive places, deep enough to require stitches, if the dotted lines like snakes across his skin indicated anything much. Scars were curiously absent from his wings, however. She shivered a bit as she saw the marks of flesh horribly mutilated just over his shoulders. How far do they extend?

He looked down at himself and desperately hoped she would not hate his body, now that she could see all of him in the daylight. After all, he was thin and pale, the picture of sickliness.

Christine got up from her stool and went over to him. Her hand on his shoulder unfroze him from his tense posture. "It's not so bad."

"Not bad?" he choked out.

"Not, not bad. You're still you." She smiled, and it was so gentle it hurt. "Did you think my opinion of you would suddenly change because I know what your wings look like?" She shook her head slightly. "Many people judge because wings are a reflection of you, but I know you, and your wings are not bad. You are not bad." Her eyes were with his and made his heart rate increase. "You're just different. I don't care what you've done in the past. Think of it as a new start."

If only that were true! But she could never condone murder. "Christine, I-"

Thump. Knock, knock.

Erik growled his frustration, but she didn't notice, as she was already on her way to the door. "Sorry, that's probably M- Oh. Hello. Er, may I help you?" Then he remembered who was due for a visit just then.

"Oh no you don't, Khan. Go away," he barked, coming over to the door.

"What?" Christine blinked. The man at the door was shorter and stockier than Erik. He was dressed as for business, and a large, dark case was on the floor by his side. It was locked with a padlock.

The man's eyes widened when he saw that Erik lacked the coat. Erik's own eyes narrowed dangerously. "Get out."

"Erik, he's not even in the door yet!" Khan's mouth fell open as Christine placed a hand on his bare chest and easily moved him aside so Nadir could enter.

"He is now." His gold eyes dropped to the black case that the stocky man had brought in. "Get out, Nadir. You are not needed."

It was at this time that the pesky Persian regained his sharp and antagonising wit. "Now, is that any way to treat an old friend? And in front of a lady, too!" He winked at Christine. "Just thought I'd drop by and see how he was doing, though it seems you're doing an excellent job of keeping him…entertained."

"It has not been two minutes, and already he is grating on my nerves," Erik murmured to Christine. She looked a bit like she was holding her breath. Who knew Erik had a friend? And one who could irritate him with minimal consequence!

"I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met," she said courteously, and stuck out a hand. "I'm Christine Daae, the owner of this apartment and a college freshman at Severn."

Nadir shook her hand heartily. "Well, it seems my visit was for naught, but if you don't mind, I'll stay for breakfast. I haven't eaten since lunchtime yesterday," he suggested, chuckling at Erik's irate glare.

"Well, come right in, Erik's made us a plate of bacon and eggs!"

"Why Erik, I didn't know you had taken up housekeeping duties! You're turning downright domestic!"

He just growled something about headaches and sat down on the futon, letting his wings spread out like great parchment-coloured sheets. Christine knew he didn't mean it, though. How could he when he had two people in the room who didn't torture and revile him for his body parts?

…

Eveline stretched and stood up. It was warm in the room from the sunlight that poured in through tall windows. She stepped over Raoul's comatose form on the floor and made her way to the next room, the restroom. Wary eyes greeted her entrance as she turned on the lights.

There was a kitten curled up in the sink, a rare calico tom. It watched her with wide, green-gold reflectors and hissed. She recognised the defensive behaviour and hissed back, baring her teeth with equal ferocity. It gave her some satisfaction that the little critter arched and mewed, recognising her threat.

"He doesn't like it when you do that," Raoul said from the doorway. Eveline turned around a little self-consciously.

"I'm only giving him what he gave me," she retorted. "And I'm taking a shower first, thank you very much." She side-eyed the frightened feline. "What's his name?"

"Don't laugh, but Dog." This time she side-eyed Raoul. His hair was an absolute mess, and his pyjamas were very wrinkled. She could tell he wasn't kidding about the cat's name.

"Were you intoxicated?"

"No." She raised a delicately shaped eyebrow. "Alright, maybe I had a shot…" He saw her skeptical, pleasantly oval face and rolled his eyes."…Or five. Don't really remember. I have a penchant for taking in animals…anything that needs help, really." He noticed the way Eveline was standing, very stiffly. "Go on, are you scared of the little kitty?"

Her eyes flicked from his to Dog's. "What do I do?"

His own eyebrows shot up. "You've never held a cat before?"

"Do you honestly think they allowed me to have a pet?"

"Hmmm. Good point." She was already moving towards the skittish animal. "Hey, don't-"

"Ow!" Eveline jerked her hand back with a yelp and sucked at the new cut on the back of her hand. "Little bastard," she muttered.

"No, he's not, he's just scared," Raoul said rather too gently. She gave him a look like I am annoyed with you and that's not going to mend my latest scratch. He brushed past her and scooped up Dog with little trouble, holding him against his chest. Eveline noticed that his wings were the same tawny gold colour as the kitten's paws. "See?"

She stared, somewhat fascinated at the high, vibrating purr that emanated from Dog's narrow chest. He pressed himself more firmly against Raoul's (toned) chest, green eyes closed. "Wanna pet? Not that way," he added hurriedly, but she tipped her head to the side, uncomprehending. "The cat, I meant, do you want to pet the cat?"

"'Not that way'?"

"Never mind." Almost as a peace offering, he held Dog out to her. Tentatively, she stretched forth her long fingers. Dog lifted his patchy head and sniffed the digits that hovered near his head with his tiny pink nose. Then, with enthusiasm, lifted onto his haunches and bumped against Eveline's hand.

Slowly, very slowly, a smile grew on the girl's face. "He's so…soft." Raoul smiled back.

"Yes, yes he is." Then she ended the moment and pulled back, feathers rustling in their many colours and gripping claws.

"Where do you keep your shampoo?" He stepped back, out of the doorway into the narrow hall.

"It's in the basket in the tub. Now, little guy," he said to the cat, "let's get you some breakfast."

After a long, warm shower (and thrice as much shampooing as the average person would do, due to her extensive, anatomically doubled wingspan), she changed back into her clothes from the night before and exited the bathroom, sans a comb for her very long hair. It seemed cooler in the flat, mostly because of her drying skin.

Raoul was munching cold pizza in the living room, which was neater than she'd expected it to be. She stepped forward and something chuffed at her. She looked down at the rodent on the floor and breathed slowly. The guinea pig stared back, nose twitching. "De Chagny, I believe your rodent has an issue with my temporary residence here," she called. Raoul stood up. He had smoothed out his hair, though a bit at the back still stood up rebelliously.

"Sorry, that's just Godzilla. He's a real terror," he explained, "doesn't like anyone, really. Except maybe Hippocampus."

"Is Hippocampus your goldfish?" I wouldn't be surprised.

"Actually, no, she's my African Grey parrot."

"Hippocampus!" crowed a croaky creature from the tip of a decorative crescent moon over the mantel. All right, I am surprised. The bird flapped noisily to her owner and landed on his head, re-mussing his newly smoothed hair. She gave Eveline a side-eye, blinking bottom lid first. "Testicle," the bird croaked.

"Language!" Raoul warned, blushing dark red.

"Language!" the parrot parroted.

"Ugh," the young man groaned.

At this point, Eveline was unable to do much more than stand with her mouth open in a mixture of shock and consternation. Dog wound himself around her left ankle and began to knead her toes. She settled for shaking her damp head. "Whatever," she muttered.

"All right, I'm going to shower. Think you can handle them on your own?" he asked, just to be safe. She nodded and he moved around her to get to the facilities.

"Have you ever thought about getting an actual dog?" she asked his receding back.

"No, the landlord doesn't allow dogs." He went into the restroom and closed the door.

Right. As opposed to guinea pigs, parrots, cats, and goldfish. A lit glass tank caught her eye. And corn snakes. Wonder what its name is… Probably something like Earworm.

Wait a minute; did he just take the pizza into the shower with him? The pipes in the walls echoed as Raoul twisted on the warm water. Gross.

Down below, Dog mewed, demanding food he had not received, as Raoul had been distracted from cat food by cold pizza. Godzilla chuffed again, chattering his teeth with ill humour. "Sheesh…" she groaned. But then she headed towards the mini-fridge on the counter anyway. There was a plastic bag full of what appeared to be ground meat, dotted with fragments of bone and…liver? But it was labelled (messily) 'Dog,' so she spooned out a small portion of it into a waiting aluminium bowl and watched Dog lick, chew, and demolish the meal.

The little thing was really beginning to grow on her, and it had only been a few minutes since they'd met. Maybe she'd consider adoption when she got back to de Chagny the elder's place- if she ever did decide to go back.