Chap 10

The Tales of Hoffman

The opera house filled with society's elitists as the sun set over the city of lights. In the lobby and elsewhere one could not stand still for three minutes without seeing an aristocrat or dandy walk by. The commoners too were out in numbers, those who hadn't come to see the opera had come to stare at those who had. The managers and many of the chorus were dazed by the turnout, and Mme. Fermin remarked that perhaps they should let little Meg Giry (who was no longer so little) direct more masked operas.

Backstage the many performers who would grace the stage that night were experiencing excitement of a completely different type. It was barely ten minutes till curtain time yet still no one would say who would be singing Hoffman in the third act.

Barred behind the door of her dressing room Christine was completely oblivious to the emotions raging outside. Instead, she stared trance like at two dozen long stem roses that had appeared out of no where only a few moments ago. They were beautiful roses - all perfect as if they had been hand picked one by one. Slowly Christine picked up the flowers and stroked the petals of the rose closest to her. At her touch it began to sing, as if awakened by the warmth of her skin. She should have dropped them in shock, but the song she heard was so beautiful that her only instinct was to stand still and lose her self to the rapture of the music. When it ended a wave of lacking washed over, making her feel its absence as deeply as if it had been a solid entity. Sadly she set them down and picked up the card that had accompanied them, but before she had a chance to open it a knocking sounded at her door.

***

It was difficult for Raoul to watch an opera that gnawed as strongly at his guilt and pride as Les Contes d'Hoffmann did. Lindorf, who would steal Hoffman's lover from him, was too much like Raoul himself for comfort and when said Lidorf came on stage he could no longer bare to sit still and watch. Making up an excuse he nearly ran out of the box from which he watched abandoning Ilisandra to Helene as his father had often abandoned him to his nurses. He marched in the direction of Christine's dressing room though he had no intention of actually going there. The tide between them had become too hide for him to try and ford, but in the end he realized there was no where else where he could wait out the rest of the first act.

With dejection he knocked on the door of her room to find that no one would answer him, when he was at last about to leave it finally opened to reveal Christine with a robe about her. "Raoul?" She seemed more astounded then she angry and he silently thanked God that she had not simply closed the door in his face.

"May I come in?" Nodding as if preoccupied Christine stepped away the door in without so much as looking at him, motioning him in as she might've motioned a pet into their house. Picking up a brush she moved to stand in front of a mirror as worked with her hair, not so much ignoring him as simply not acknowledging his presence. Unwilling to give into what he perceived as her game he turned his back to her and walked to her dresser, absently noticing the roses there. Out of sheer boredom he opened the card beside them and read it, with each word of the short message he became angrier. Till at last sheer rage seized him and forced him to explode out of the chair, flinging the card at her. "You impudent wench! So now you would give him my daughter as well!" Remembering just how thin the walls were, Raoul barely managed to control his voice. Literally shaking he picked up the roses from her desk and tore them apart flinging each handful at her as he did so. To enraged to speak he stood still until his rage had subsided a little before storming out of the room and slamming the door behind him.

Shaking Christine didn't know what to think - what had Erik written that would make Raoul so mad? Picking up the card she read the message that had been intended for her eyes alone. Dear Christine, here are two dozen roses. One is for you who will always be my angel, and one is for Ilisandra who will remain my little Prima Donna. Erik Had Raoul not read the card first, the words would have brought a smile to her eyes, now though they only brought tears.

Bending down she began gathering the petals and stems together, now audibly sobbing. Suddenly Erik was there besides her and she found that his shoulder made a very comfortable place for crying. "Why - why did you let him do that?" her words were muffled and broken, but no more then Erik's heart. If he'd known the roses would bring her tears he would never have sent them. "Why didn't you come."

"My presence would've only made the situation worse." Erik spoke so that his voice was calming, the words were too, although there were actually lies. The truth of the matter was that had he come through the mirror he would've killed Raoul on the spot - and however much he hated the man he did not want to create any unnecessary difficulties of Christine. He relished the feel of her in his arms, even if she was crying, and as much as he didn't want to let go he knew that if she continued crying she would be too horse to sing that night. "Hush now, they were only roses." Pushing her away from him he miraculously produced a handkerchief and began wiping at her tears. "You know it's lucky that we're performing in masks tonight - otherwise you'd look like a kitten who'd almost been drowned." The words had their desired effect and Christine giggled a little, quieting her sobbing. His presence seemed to calm her, and Raoul's destruction of her precious singing flowers didn't seem quite so bad.

"But - how - no, where did you find singing roses?" Erik smiled again, but it was more mysterious then comforting. Without warning the flower petals seemed to start speaking, each and everyone talking to Christine.

"Christine, it's a secret."

"Don't cry Christine."

"Erik found us just for you."

They seemed to speak all at once and yet one at a time. It was confusing but pleasant, and as she gathered the petals into a satchel they became more and more quiet until they left nothing but silence. "How remarkable." Putting the Satchel carefully on her dresser she began to gather together the stems. Not careful she pricked her finger on a thorn. "Ouch!" Pulling back from the stems, her hand was on its way to her mouth when Erik intercepted it. (AN: minds out of the gutter folks.) As she bled onto the white glove he wore the air room suddenly thickened with solemnity.

"Of all the lives I've taken… I never thought I would your blood on my hands." Seemingly fixated by the dark red stain, he didn't look up at her. Christine saw that it was horror which filled his eyes and for the first time she seemed to know exactly what was running through his mind.

"Please don't say that. You could never hurt me as much when you're with me then you would if you weren't." Pulling her hand out of his she hugged him tightly before pulling back with a smile on her face. How odd it seemed that their roles had been reversed so quickly. "Now if you don't mind, it's already the second act and I'm the first person on stage during the third. I think I should probably change and begin to warm up my voice - don't you?" Nodding, Erik gave a graceful bow before disappearing into the mirror.

Standing up Christine went to her closet and took out the costume she was to wear. As she began removing her robe, the corner of her eye caught the mirror and she began to blush in a way she hadn't in a long time. If Erik could sing to her from behind her mirror, did it mean that he could watch her too?

***

Ilisandra sank in to her seat and dug her hand into Helene's, Father had returned in the last act fuming in silence, to the rest of the world he seemed perfectly normal, enjoying the opera as it were. But Ilisandra knew him better then that, in the way of all children she could see when something was wrong, even if it was beneath the surface. Wistfully she thought that this was nothing like watching an opera with Erik that Chastened herself for thinking like that, Erik said he would sing tonight - surely hearing his voice was worth the stuff dress and daddy's bad temper.

On the stage the curtains began to open and before the first strains of one of Mama's songs began playing. Her voice followed soon after and Ilisandra was mesmerized by the sheer beauty found there. It wasn't music, indeed it was everything emotional that music stood for. Mama wore a mask, and she was disguised as the beautiful but ill-fated Antonia, a talented soprano who had love torn from her and music made forbidden on pain of death. Lost between the joy of rapture and the sorrow that surely everyone there could feel Ilisandra found her heart soul reeling with the music and wondering just where this woman who was her mother hid when she could not sing.

Raoul heard too, he heard the music that he had so long been denied and for a few brief moments his anger was forgotten - forgotten until his voice joined hers. In the audience there many intakes of breath - for when had they been honored by a voice such as this? A voice that would surely make even Israfel in heaven soul sick with envy, a voice that would capture the heart of any all who heard it. Raoul watched his daughter and felt her float away from him in the way he knew Christine already had, and that knowledge tightened the net of anger and fear around his heart. Yet even he was not immune to that tragic beautiful voice. A voice that could the stars of heaven weep and the sun grow cold with pity. It was a voice wasted on this opera, and the one that responded to it was beautiful but not equal. When the strains of their ended the audience could not help but sigh. And when Antonia fell dead in lovers arms, not one in the audience could help but let the tears fall from their eyes.

At the end of the act there was standing ovation, from those out in the opera house as well as those behind the curtains. Yet oddly enough, despite mad capped applause neither the mask Antonia nor her mysterious Hoffman could be seen. Only later did anyone remember the rumors that the Phantom was to have a part in this opera, after all - when could any phantom sing with such an essence of humanity?

***

In her Dressing Room Christine listened to the distant applause from the floor, sitting at Erik's feet in the way she once had when he would read to her. The applause in her mind was more imagined then actual - remnants of what she'd heard as they left the stage. It was applause she had waited a lifetime to hear, the applause that her father had always wanted for her, and it was Erik who had given her that, just as he had always promised.

"Come with me?" His voice broke into her thoughts, and with hesitance she opened her eyes. To look at he who had asked the question. "Come back to me?"

Christine had expected the question, but someone it managed to take her by surprise, in her mind she thought of a million answers, yet years of hesitance were not easily bypassed. "I…. I love you Erik." She looked up at him in helplessness, wondering why she could not simply give him the 'yes' that they both wanted. "But I can't leave Ilisandra behind… I can't deny her the future she might have."

Erik didn't believe her, didn't believe that she could do this to him. "You're a coward Christine, a coward and a prisoner. If I had any sense I would've left you behind the day you walked out of this opera house." Barely containing his anger Erik nearly threw back the chair he was sitting in, but for once Christine did not sit still and feel sorry for herself.

"No!" Grabbing at him, she nearly pulled him off balance. "I won't let you do this to me Erik - I love you! Don't you understand that? But I can't say any more Good-byes Erik, not tonight." She looked him in the eyes and he was able to see that it was not just desperation in there. "Just me give time to say my good-byes." The look that Erik gave her was one she did not recognize, and one that she did not wish to, but his words said what he could not.

"I've waited seven years Christine. How could you doubt that I would ever stop waiting for you?" He pulled back then and she knew that he would be there. Whether she chose tomorrow or a year from tonight, so long as he lived he would always be there, waiting, in his heart and in his mind. For Her.

Done!

Just kidding (as if I'd ever leave you with an ending like that!) but if I don't get reviews it will be. J