Stolen
Chapter 14: (The Rose Has Been) Set Free
A/N: This is by far my favorite chapter title so far.
Anyone remember the story of "The Nightingale and the Rose", from Susan Kay's Phantom? (:
I'm currently re-reading the book and re-falling in love with it. Speaking of which, there will be a few references with Kay's masterpiece in this chapter, so bare with me if you haven't read it.
I want to thank phantomphan2000 for once again beta-ing my chapter! It'd be full of awkward-sounding phrases and grammatical errors without her!
Enjoy the chapter! It begins a few days after the last one ended.
Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom. Gaston Leroux, Susan Kay, and Andrew Lloyd Webber do. And God.
"Night after night the nightingale came to beg for divine love, but though the rose trembled at the sound of his voice, her petals remained closed to him..." (Kay 433).
Olivia took a deep breath before placing four knocks on the large, magnificent door.
Her eyes had been as wide as saucers upon arriving at the estate of Raoul de Chagny. The house was huge and beautiful, and though Olivia knew nothing about architecture, she thought the design to be superb. A colorful array of flowers had been planted and obviously meticulously cared for in the front yard of the house, and the grass was greener than Olivia had thought possible. Everything looked absolutely perfect, in an almost impossible way. The mansion reminded her of something described in fairytales.
To say the least, she was as intimidated as ever as she waited for Raoul de Chagny to answer the door.
But it was not even him who appeared in the doorway – it was a servant.
"Hello. You must be Mademoiselle Olivia, if I remember correctly?" She wore a pleasant smile, and Olivia nodded, returning a smile of her own.
"I'm Madeline. Here, let me show you to Monsieur de Chagny."
"Thank you," Olivia said. "And it's nice to meet you."
She followed Madeline into the house and almost gasped out loud. It was even more extravagant on the inside, with a grand staircase as the breathtaking main attraction. Lovely paintings on the wall bordered by intricate frames of gold took Olivia's breath away. The only thing that really bothered Olivia was any lack of decoration up above her head. An extraordinary chandelier would simply make the room, she mused to herself.
"Right this way, Mademoiselle."
Madeline led her left of the main entrance and down a hallway. They passed two closed doors before arriving to an open one. Olivia peeked in to see a man with his head between his hands, his hair disheveled, obviously exhausted.
"Monsieur," Madeline said quietly. He snapped up from his worn out position at once, rising to his feet.
"Oh, yes, yes… Sorry, I was just… sorry…" He shook his head. Olivia could immediately tell he was at his wits end, and had obviously not gotten a large amount of sleep in the past few days, judging by the dark circles under his eyes.
"You must be Mademoiselle Olivia." He tried to smile pleasantly, but Olivia could see right through his attempt. "Thank you very much for meeting me here… Come; let us chat in my office." He gestured to a chair, and Olivia smiled, sitting down.
"You are excused, Madeline." Raoul said softly.
"Yes, Monsieur." She scurried off to the kitchen as Raoul closed the heavy doors behind him.
"You know what, or rather who I need." Raoul began. Olivia nodded.
"Christine Daae."
"Yes. My Christine…" Raoul whispered with pain inflicted in his voice. Olivia suddenly felt a surge of pity for the man. He was simply lost with his beloved.
"And you wish for me to find her."
Raoul nodded sharply.
"Monsieur, I will do whatever it takes."
He ran his hands through his hair, as if this caused him much distress.
"If only it were easier than this… I just wish I didn't have to resort to sending a kind woman to find my fiancée. That is, if there will even be a wedding…" He trailed off, shaking his head. "But I suppose that this is the only way. I must find her. I must save her from that… that madman."
Olivia swallowed, choosing her next words very carefully.
"And this man… you believe he has kidnapped Christine?"
"Yes. He has decided to claim her back, I know he has."
"But I was informed that after you were reunited with her, she left you…" Olivia said, remembering the story quite clearly. Apparently, the 'madman' was thought to be dead by Raoul, and so Christine had immediately run off upon hearing this. She had yet to return…
"I let her go, and I regret it every passing moment." His voice was blanketed with distress. "She only left because she thought he was dead… She only left because she knew he couldn't hurt her again. And when she found him alive, he must have taken her away once again. He must have…"
What troubled Olivia most was the fact that Raoul seemed as though he was trying to convince himself rather than her.
"I see," was all Olivia replied. "And do you have any idea where I might find this man's estate?"
Raoul breathed a sigh of exasperation, shaking his head.
"Not a clue. He may be a madman, but he's a genius… And he must have the most secluded, hidden property in all of Paris. I'm afraid I must leave finding it up to you, Olivia."
Olivia smiled softly.
"Of course. That is my job, after all. I can assure you that I will find Christine, no matter what the cost."
And for the first time since Olivia had seen him, Raoul smiled genuinely.
"Thank you."
Christine sighed longingly as she stared out the window, musing to herself how beautiful it was outside.
"Erik, do you ever go outside and just… enjoy the day?" She asked curiously. He was viciously scribbling down notes at the seat of his piano, alternating between that and playing. This had been going on the entire morning and the many hours before, for inspiration had struck him like a bolt of lightning in the dead of the night.
"Not usually," he muttered distantly, concentrated predominately on his composition.
"Hmm…" Christine mumbled, thinking about how it was such a shame to waste a pretty day.
Erik sensed the unhappiness in her voice and dropped his pen at once.
"Would you like to?" he asked, now directing his attention to Christine. She looked up at once, a smile inching on her lips.
"Well, only if you wouldn't mind…"
"If you would like, Christine, we can have a picnic," Erik suggested. Of course, that sounded fantastic to Christine, as he knew it would. He probably knew her better than she knew herself.
"A picnic! Oh, that sounds wonderful! Father and I used to have picnics all the time! I was very fond of them…"
And so, it was settled. A young soprano and a masked composer were going to have a picnic.
...
A careless giggle escaped Christine's lips.
She was perfectly at ease as she sat on the blanket next to Erik. They were under the shade of a large oak tree that was now nearly in full bloom, some fifty feet from the house. Christine fiddled with a dandelion in her hand, laughing at something Erik had said.
"If only every day were as lovely as this," she sighed contently, relaxing against the tree.
"Yes," Erik calmly replied. "If only."
"You know, I simply don't understand it," Christine said abruptly.
"Understand what, my dear?"
"I don't understand how… how you lived for so long without any sunshine. Your house beyond the lake was quite beautiful, but I surely would've died being alone in there for so long…" Christine trailed off, barely able to imagine such seclusion. She suddenly felt extremely sorry for Erik.
"Did you ever have anyone that… visited you?" she asked, now more quiet and apprehensive. Christine knew that this was a difficult subject to Erik. She knew that his time in solitude was a dark one, filled with anguish and shadows.
"One man… One man visited me from time to time, but eventually he gave up… He saved my life, and I saved his."
"Who, Erik? Who was it?"
Erik sighed sadly. "His name was Nadir."
Christine nodded, interested, though a bit afraid to ask any more.
"I had a cat, once."
Christine raised an eyebrow.
"A cat?"
"Yes." Erik smiled as the image of his beautiful Siamese friend flooded his mind. She had always been such a gorgeous cat, a rare diamond in this part of Europe.
"What was its name?" Christine wondered out loud, trying to envision a cat suitable for Erik, a task which was proving quite difficult.
"Her name was Ayesha. She was a Siamese cat, and was almost slaughtered," Erik explained.
Christine's eyes widened in horror, and Erik laughed at her innocence, her lack of knowledge. Sometimes ignorance could be bliss.
"Oh, never mind that," Erik said. "Follow me."
"Wait, where are we going?"
But before Christine could finish asking, Erik was already gracefully striding towards the small pond not too far away. Christine hurried after him, a carefree smile playing on her lips. She had to lift her dress as she ran through the field to keep up with him.
Breathlessly laughing, Christine finally reached Erik, who was already pulling a small canoe towards the shore of the pond.
"After you." He smiled, gesturing in the direction of the canoe.
"Why, thank you," Christine replied in the same tone Erik had spoken with, trying to steady the canoe before sitting in it. A sudden feeling of nervousness took over her, for she had never been in a canoe before, or an open boat of any sorts.
As Erik slid in with two oars, Christine bit her lip.
"This canoe won't… it won't tip over, will it?"
Erik shrugged nonchalantly. "If it does, then I suppose we will be going for a little swim."
Christine smiled a little, though she still couldn't hide her nervousness. But Erik was completely at ease as he rowed the boat into deeper water, and this made her feel much safer.
Before long, all of Christine's fears had vanished into thin air. She laughed carelessly, feeling freer than she could have ever imagined. All thoughts encircling her mind were of happiness and joy.
As a child, Christine's father had once told her a story about a rose and a nightingale. Erik had also told her this story once before. Christine was the rose, with her petals always closed to the nightingale. She had always been trapped within her own mind, shut out from the rest of the world.
But now, Christine realized, her petals had finally opened.
She had been set free.
...
It was dark out by the time Christine realized that hours had passed since their picnic had begun, not the mere moments it had felt like.
The two found themselves relaxing under the tree, and Christine suddenly had an idea that caused a smile to spread across her pink lips.
"Erik, may I sing for you?"
Erik knew how much this meant to his Christine, and he also longed to hear the angelic voice that he had spent so many years perfecting.
"Of course you may sing for me, Christine."
And so her soft voice began to pour into the night, becoming more powerful as her confidence began to grow. She was actually a bit nervous at first, having been in the absence of their lessons for far too long. She let her eyes close and the music consumed every inch of her. Erik's voice eventually entwined with hers, and he too got lost in the moment.
Christine did not notice how her voice began to fade, and how her eyelids became heavier. Within a few minutes, she had turned completely silent.
At first, Erik thought something was wrong. But he soon realized that Christine was simply tired.
"You are weary," Erik said softly. "Should we return to the house?"
"No. I think I'd like to sleep here tonight," Christine mumbled. Erik laughed quietly, sensing her exhaustion.
"This tree is nice… I like it out here," she continued.
"Well then, if you wish to sleep outside, then you shall."
Christine had already lain down on the blanket, and Erik brushed the hair from her face ever so softly.
Erik stood and paced as she slept, thinking about all that had occurred.
It seemed so unreal, what he had experienced. Today, he had been as close to bliss as he had ever been. It was always such a distant emotion for him, and yet somehow, he had been fortunate enough to experience true happiness while spending a wonderful day with Christine. Erik's dark mind contemplated this new awakening of emotion. One thing frightened him, above all.
Would it last?
With his luck, it would be gone in the snap of a finger.
Christine began tossing a turning, mumbling incoherent words. She seemed to be in a state of panic, probably having a nightmare. Erik knew what to do in order to calm her, though. Nightmares had been a reoccurring event since Christine had been living with him – since she was a child, actually. Whether they were about her father, or simply about consuming darkness, Erik could always make them go away with only his voice.
"Hush, my dear. It's only a dream."
She was quieter after that, but still turned restlessly. Erik softly sang a hymn he had learned at a young age, and this immediately put Christine in a deep sleep.
The peaceful sound of Christine's even breathing allowed Erik to think about his music. He had played for hours the previous night and throughout the morning, hardly able to stop, even for just a moment. The notes now bounced around in his head, and he longed to have his piano in front of him so he could pour his dark soul into the musical instrument.
But he would not – could not leave his Christine.
And as he stared at her beautiful face, illuminated by the moon, he had no desire to.
Christine woke to a bright light shining in her eyes.
What on Earth...? She thought groggily as her eyelids fluttered open.
Oh. The sun.
Memories of the previous day came flooding back to her, and before she could panic, she remembered that she had slept outside. She scarcely remembered the haunting voice lulling her to sleep… the voice of her angel.
Her angel!
She bolted up, frantically looking around her.
"Erik?" she asked, a note of fear evident in her voice.
"Erik? Where are you? Erik!"
A light hand fell on her shoulder, and she gasped, jumping at the icy touch.
"I am here, Christine."
His voice was just as icy, if not more.
"Oh, there you are." She exhaled with relief, smiling. But as she spun around to face him, her smile immediately melted away. His eyes were bitter and cold, sending a chill up her spine. She suddenly felt very frightened of the man she had laughed with for hours the previous day…
"What… what's wrong?" She stuttered, not able to think of a reason why he could possibly be so angry.
Erik smiled bitterly.
"What's wrong, Christine? Why, what a fantastic question!" He exclaimed sarcastically. "Why don't you ask the one you were calling for in your sleep, Christine? Why don't you ask him!"
His voice came out powerfully and angrily, but Christine could hear the obvious pain beneath it.
Oh, no.
She must have been calling for Raoul in her sleep… But she didn't understand! I do not want Raoul! She told herself, angry at her unconsciousness for being so foolish.
"Erik, I don't want him. Please, you must believe me!" she begged, her pleading eyes producing tears.
Erik watched Christine's eyes brim with moisture, and then realized the mistake he had made.
His own eyes softened at once, and his voice was filled with regret.
"Forgive me. You cannot help what you say in your sleep… I lost my temper."
Christine wiped her eyes. She had forgotten how dangerous Erik could really be. She had forgotten his temper and what he was capable of… everything he was capable of.
"I forgive you," she whispered.
Erik frowned, for he had truly frightened Christine. He had to remember that though she wasn't as naïve as she once was, she was still a child; a fragile child.
"Come, you must be hungry. Let me prepare you some breakfast."
Christine nodded, and Erik began leading her back across the stretch of grass, returning her delicate mind to the house. Once inside, he smiled at her softly.
"I truly had a remarkable time yesterday, Christine," he told her, meaning every word.
And Christine couldn't help but smile.
"Me too."
Perhaps the rose's petals were open indefinitely.
A/N: So things are starting to look good for Christine and Erik… but will it last?
Perhaps in the next chapter we shall have a little game of hide and seek…
Also, my sister, peaceloveandchrist, just began a new phic called "Confessions of a Runaway Bride", which I am beta-ing. Please check it out!
Reviews make me happy. ^_^