Chapter 10
The journey back to Christine's dressing room was silent and awkward. He didn't make any eye contact with her and hardly spoke unless if it was to tell her to be careful or to watch her step in the dark passageways. While crossing the lake on the gondola, Christine had tried to make small talk to but he would only nod or give her a half smile. Idiot! Why did he tell her everything? She didn't have to know everything or at least not everything that happened in Persia.
They walked up the spiraling set of stairs that only had one wall and no rail to keep from falling into the water deep below. Christine hated this part of their journeys; the skirts of her gown never allowed her to see just where the edge was and made uneasy to walk. As they walked, the heel of her shoe slipped off the edge of a step and she fell with a sharp cry. Erik caught her with his strong arms faster than lightening just before her knee could hit the stone. She wrapped her arms securely around his neck and hung on for dear life as he pulled her to her feet, hearing the faint sounds of small pebbles splash in the water dozens of feet below. Both their hearts were beating frantically as he asked her in a worried voice, "Are you alright? Are you hurt?" She looked down at deep abyss of darkness that she had just barely missed, "No, I'm fine. Thank you, ange." As she spoke, she looked up at him and stared into his eyes. In that instant, she saw so much concern and sadness yet she knew very well that those mismatched eyes could burn through to the very soul. As he quickly turned away from her, she remembered hearing the stories that the ballerinas said of those menacing eyes that would glow in the shadows of the theater. He told her to stay as close to the wall as she could when they walked and she nodded.
When they finally reached the mirror of her dressing room, he said, "I will be waiting for you here as soon as rehearsals have finished. Don't be late." She nodded silently, surprised at the sudden sternness in his voice. When he reached over her head to turn the knob that would open the mirror, she turned to face him to thank him again for saving her but their faces were a lot more closer than they had expected and she lost her voice as well the reason why she turned. Just inches away from his masked face, Erik was greatly tempted to steal a quick kiss but he remained still. She slightly raised her head as though to kiss him and his eyes felt heavy with anticipation but neither could bring themselves to do it. He looked down and she turned away, almost disappointed. On a whim, he quickly bent to her and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek but before she could register what he just did, he pushed her somewhat not really lightly out the mirror and quickly shut it behind her. She tried to turn to face the mirror but the hem of her gown was caught between the mirror and the frame. The mirror quickly opened just enough for Erik's hand to place the caught piece of material outside the mirror. She furrowed her brow as she thought about what just happened in the last few seconds. She smiled and walked to her door onto rehearsals. As she was just about to step out, her Angel's voice called to her from around the room, "Sing well." She said with a giggle, "I will." Erik immediately missed the sight of her as she left; he thought of himself to be extremely lucky to simply be in her presence but now that she knew everything… he can't lose her, not yet.
Rehearsals dragged on for hours with endless line and pitch corrections and stage directing. Christine was trying her hardest to keep concentrated on the Opera but she remembered how Raoul had said he wanted to talk to her about something important. Hoping that the hours would speed up for mid-day break, now she was praying that they wouldn't get a break at all. She stole glances to the empty auditorium whenever he could, searching for the Vicomte but she didn't see him. Maybe he was already waiting for her backstage? All too quickly, Reyer dismissed everyone for break.
As the actors and technicians parted their separate ways, Christine ducked her head low behind all the taller people to avoid being seen by any possible Vicomtes waiting offstage. She walked closely behind one large gentleman, her body hunched over and every so often peeking over the man's shoulder with squinted eyes, scanning the people around her. Meg watched the awkward scene from a distance and walked silently to stand next to Christine, imitating her posture. Meg whispered, "Who are we hiding from?" Christine jumped with a small cry; the man she had been hiding behind turned with a furrowed brow and found the two girls looking up at him with wide-eyes. Embarrassed as the man raised an inquisitive eyebrow at their odd position, they straightened their postures and began to clear their throats while he slowly walked away. "So," said Meg, not at all embarrassed, "Who were we hiding from?"
Christine kept looking around the people, "I was trying to hide from Rao- I mean the Vicomte." She remembered that Meg didn't know him by his first name. "Oh, that reminds me! He gave Mama a letter to give to you today," said Meg. She handed Christine the envelope she had tucked away underneath the bodice of her ballerina attire. As Christine examined it, she said confusedly, "It's already opened…"
"He said he couldn't see you today because he left to London due to some Vicomte business bla bla bla and that he'll be back in a few days."
Christine gave her a long blank stare, "Well as long as you're the only one who read it, I don't care. What else did he say?" As Christine was taking the letter out from the envelope, Desirae, a fellow ballerina and chorus member, approached the girls, "Bonjour... Oh, did she read the part where he said he was going to miss her greatly?" "Meg!" exclaimed Christine. Meg gave her a shrug and Christine continued to read the letter while the two ballerinas leaned over to look at the letter with her. "Hmm," said Christine, "He literally wrote 'due to some Vicomte business bla bla bla' …" "Told you!" said Meg, brightly. "So what was it he wanted to talk to you about?" asked Desirae. "I don't know," sighed Christine as she slipped the folded paper back in the envelope, "but whatever it is, I'm glad it'll have to wait." Desirae asked, "Weren't you courting with him?"
Erik's curiosity perked at the words "courting" and "him" as he listened in the rafters above. Christine gave a laugh, "No! Goodness, no. He's just an old friend." "Oh, so there's some history between you two?" Desirae implied. "Not really," Meg cut in, "She's still a virgin." Christine hid her face in her palm at Meg's bluntness. "Still?" asked Desirae with raised eyebrows. Meg said, "Are you really that surprised? Remember how much she used to hate having to change costumes amongst us?" Desirae nodded as she laughed at the recollection of a young shy Daae' while changing costumes. "Well none of you made it any easier!" said Christine in defense, "I would barely reach for the first clasp of my gown and you'd all start whistling at me like idiots!" The ballerinas started to laugh hysterically as they remembered watching her beautiful ivory features turn to blushing red. Christine crossed her arms over her chest in annoyance and waited silently for them to finish.
After a long minute of listening to the graceful hyenas in front of her, Christine said, "Anyway! Although I fear he may have some type of infatuation towards me, I must admit I have no feeling greater than mutual friendship towards him." The girls' jaws dropped at her confession. "Christine have you seen him? I mean, really looked at him? He's remarkably handsome!" exclaimed Desirae. "And a Vicomte," added Meg. Erik gagged to himself at how easily impressed they were. "Not to mention he's charming, really sweet and gentle," said Desirae dreamily. "And a Vicomte!" said Meg. Christine agreed, "Yes, he is sweet and very gentle but I… I have my mind set…" The girls gasped with huge wide smiles. "What?" asked Christine. "Who is he?" they both asked. Christine's heart sank, "Who's who?" "The other man!" they squealed.
Starting to feel uneasy, Christine started the rub the back of her neck, "Well… He is… um…" Erik leaned in as close as he could, staying in the shadows, to listen intently. "He's," Christine continued, "He's very tall, dark, and has traveled many times." "It almost sounds like your still talking about the Vicomte," questioned Desirae. "He's very intelligent," Christine added. "Oh no, that's not him," said the dancers, "have we seen him?" Christine chose her words carefully, "Yes, sometimes." "Who?" asked Meg. "Who is he?" Desirae said excitedly. With a smile Christine answered, "He dresses with such pristine elegance and his very aura just screams masculinity." "Who, who?" they asked, their volume rising at every intriguing detail. "He's very mysterious; there is no skill that lies beyond the mastery of his hand," said Christine. "Who?" the girls nearly shouted. Who the hell is this, thought Erik, genuinely having no idea whom she was speaking of. Christine added with excitement, "He's very talented! An absolute virtuoso at the piano and his voice, oh God, his voice is like that of an angel!" "Who?" the girls screamed.
"Will you two shut up?" shouted Antoinette from afar, "You morons sound like two owls having sex!" Hushed to a whisper, Christine said, "The only thing is he has a temper and he can be harsh." "He's been harsh with you?" asked Meg, concerned. "Well he's my voice coach," explained Christine, without thinking. Suddenly a loud hacking cough erupted from above their heads but they ignored it thinking it must be one of the older stagehands when really it was Erik who was so surprised by Christine's revelation that he choked on his own saliva. "I knew it!" said Meg, "You were always so happy to go to your lessons!" "And still am," Christine said, "But he's just so… complex. He's forever untrusting with anyone and I know he could be gentle, if he wanted to be but sometimes I just don't know." "All actors and technicians report back to the stage! All actors and technicians head back to the stage," called Reyer. As the girls made their final comments, Erik thought, Gentle… I can be gentle.
He happened to glance across the catwalks and saw one of the older stagehands, Joseph Bouquet, eying down at Christine hungrily and smiling a grimy smile. The sick bastard, Erik never liked Bouquet and how he would always be spying on the younger ballerinas, trying to touch them even. Now he has the nerve to even dare cast his disgusting grey eyes on his Christine? Bouquet loved to spread rumors about the Opera Ghost to bring the ballerinas closer to him; Maybe now was the time for Erik to silence them forever…
Joseph looked down at the actresses from his favorite catwalk, from there he had, what he considered, the best view in Paris. "Daae'," he chuckled, "You won't even know what hit you."
"Neither will you."
A gloved hand enclosed around Bouquet's throat and lifted him off the wooden platform. When Bouquet opened his eyes, he gasped at the sight of his fake rumors suddenly brought to life before him; the menacing white mask, the glowing fiery eyes, the rough yet alluring voice with his monster strength. "I'm sorry, did I break your concentration?" asked Erik, with a smirk. "You can't kill me," groaned Bouquet. "Do explain," said Erik as he made his grip tighter making Joseph cringe in pain. "You only kill those who see your face" he choked, "that I know." Erik looked deep into his eyes and gave a low chuckle from his chest and lifted his mask away. Bouquet's eyes grew wide with fear, "My God…"
"You were saying?"
Hours later, Reyer dismissed everyone for the day. Christine made small talk with Meg and Desirae before walking to her dressing room. As she walked inside, all of the lanterns had been extinguished to a complete blackness, "I really wish there were windows in here." Christine felt around the room, searching for the lanterns in the darkness but she made a quick turn, her face collided into Erik's solid hard chest. "Surprise," he said, lightly. "Erik, what are you doing?" she asked with a smile. His smile, however, faded, "You said I was harsh to you and that I can't be gentle." She should've known he was listening, "I also said you were untrusting." "I know," he said, rising his hands to her shoulders. He lightly rubbed her shoulders and asked, "Can you see me?" She shook her head, "I just see darkness." "Are you afraid of the dark, Christine?" he breathed. She nodded. "There is a reason why the night is filled with darkness," he said. "The night?" her voice small. He wrapped his arms around her waist as he spoke and drew her close to him, "The night brings rest and relief from pain." His fingertips gently traced the lines of her ear which sent shivers through her body. His fore and middle finger traced from the bottom of her ear, along her jaw line to her chin and slowly slide along the smooth skin of her neck to her collarbone. Her eyes fell heavy to a close, savoring each sensation. "When you get used to the dark," he whispered in her ear, "You'll find that it can rather friendly and peaceful. And you'll love the dark too."
His hand came to the small of her back and pressed her firmly to himself, she immediately felt the proof of his desire against her even through the heavy material of her gown. She pressed her palms flat to his chest and he took that as resistance, "You needn't be afraid, Christine." "I'm not," she breathed.
"You're pushing me away…"
"I'm not…"
Her hands slid up along the silk lapels of his suit jacket and brought her arms around his neck. He slowly brought his lips to hers but it was an accidental brushing of her nose that revealed to her that his mask was off. He trusted her; he was really trying to trust her again… Was it odd that his deformity was arousing her more than his actual actions? She ran her fingernails lightly along his scalp and felt his body shake. Her hands inspired him to take the kiss further and gently invade her mouth with his tongue. Her body arched instinctively against him while he gave a small almost inaudible groan. He pulled his soft misshapen lips away and traced them along her jaw just like his fingers did until his warmth mouth found her ear. He let out a long exhaled sigh into her ear that made her gasp in delight. Thrilling in her reaction, he kissed her lips again, still gentle but more firmly. His hands slid from her back to her hips, hers trailed down his neck to his chest and back up again only her hands trailed a little too far up.
Her fingers accidentally brushed his scarred jaw line and he jerked away from her touch and took his whole body with him. She immediately missed his warmth as well as her mistake. "Erik?" she called. A single lamp began to glow revealing him with his mask back on and his eyes looking angry. She took a breath to speak but he stopped her, "You tell me that I can trust you and yet you do this? What was that exactly? Tell me! An act of pity?" "Erik, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… well I… I just… I figured…" She gave up with a sigh. He rubbed the temples of his mask and shutting his eyes, I love her, Lord help me, I do but she's going to be the death of me. "How does that help if you're really not rubbing your temples?" Christine immediately regretted her honest question when he shot her a glance and said with a feigned smile, "Bonjour, Je m'appelle Erik and I like to pretend," he finished sharply. He turned to open the mirror from its hidden handle and heard Christine mumble under her breath, "Désolé, j'ai demandé."
Throughout her entire lesson, he was sarcastic and short-fused with her. He was constantly stopping her at the beginning of almost every measure to scold her about pitch and rounding vowels. At the third hour, nearly the end of her lesson, Christine couldn't take it anymore. If he was going to be like this with her than she had every right to act the same. Just when she had decided to fight back was when he stopped interrupting her every few minutes. Not that she was complaining or anything but she wanted to show that wasn't always an invertebrate. Of course, at the final high note of the song, he yells, "Stop! Stop! That was a horrible travesty!" At this point, Christine had had enough, "Your face is a travesty!" "You don't say?" he said with a sarcastic faked interest. He knew she didn't mean it but he wanted to see how far she would go. "That's it, I've had it!" she yelled as she threw her sheet music in the air. "And people say I have a bad temper," he said with a smile. "I've had it up to here with your shenanigan! Sometimes, you frustrate me so much I just want to get your big fat head and just-…" she began to pound her tiny fist of fury into her small palm.
As hilarious as this was to watch, he couldn't but become aroused by her temper, "And tell me, how do you really feel, Christine?" She growled in anger and Erik found it the most adorable sound in the world. His smile only grew wider as she continued, "You know, you are mean to me, you sneak up on me and… and… you are just mean!" He was smiling so arrogantly that she found it the most attractive and wanted to kiss its curves. "Ouch, that one hurt," he said carelessly as he put his music together. "Stubborn!" she called him. "Whiney!" he called back. "Arrogant!" She screamed as she stormed to her room and slammed the door. A pause, then a small creak, then a loud bang as the door hit the floor quickly followed by Christine's small cry. "By the way," said Erik, "try to be gentle with your door until I can replace it with new hinges." Christine stomped out of her room and into his, slamming his door harder.
He got up with a chuckle as he heard her scream, "Smartass!" No one's called him a smartass since Nadir. He stood outside his bedroom door and called laughingly, "Christine open the door." "NO!" she yelled before he even finished his sentence. He knocked a few times then she screamed, "Oh when it's you own door that's between us, you're gentle as a lamb, aren't you?" He was trying his hardest not to laugh aloud, "Christine, ma petite ange, open the door."
"No!"
"Please?"
There was a long pause, "No!" she answered. "Alright!" he said lightly, "If you're not going to open the door than don't be expecting to eat dinner." She yelled like an upset child, "I don't want to eat dinner!" "Then you won't," he shrugged.
"Good!"
"Alright then!"
"Fine!"
He walked to his kitchen to prepare dinner but it wasn't until the kitchen door was closed behind him that he let out all of his suppressed laughter. "I can hear you!" she yelled and it only made him laugh more hysterically.
Moments past, her inevitable hunger made her surrender to the intoxicating scent of his food. As she slowly walked into the dining room, she saw him sitting alone at the table with a plate and seat set for her still. "I thought you weren't coming for dinner?" he asked lightly. "If you knew that then why is the table set for two?" she inquired back. "So," he said, "my alarm clock is set for six. That doesn't prove anything." She giggled and he smiled back to her. "I'm sorry, Erik," she said, "I didn't mean what I said about your face." He said, "I know… I'm sorry for over-working you. You were doing magnificent the entire time." "It's alright," she said smiling. "Just out of curiosity," he added, "Do you sometimes really want to get my big fat head and-…" he pounded his fist into his palm just like she did and she laughed out loud, blushing. "To be honest, yes," she admitted, "and do you ever feel that way with me?" "With you," he said as he looked up, pretending to think, "It's more like-…" he then mimed picking her up and throwing her aside somewhere. "Hey!" she exclaimed with a laugh. "I'm joking," he said with a smile, "Won't you join me?"