Disclaimer: I am neither Andrew Lloyd Webber nor Gaston Leroux.
Author Note: Hi again! Two updates in one day! :-) It's nice to actually have the time to update now and I'm hoping to keep up with my 'at least two updates a week' thing. I enjoyed writing this chapter; sometimes a bit of romance is needed, I think.
Well, on to the chapter! Reviews are always loved and I hope, if you are reading this, that you are enjoying this Phanfic :-)
Thirteen- Stay By My Side, Guide Me
(A street in Paris)
A cool breeze sang its way through the fast emptying roads of Paris, lifting the dust and discarded rubbish from the cobbles before unceremoniously dumping it all back down on the dirty ground. The wind was gentle, not the usual bitter sting, but an icy kiss from nature.
Erik made his way through the depleting crowds with his flesh coloured mask on, trying to ignore the loud chatter of the Parisians he loathed for being so happy all the time. He felt edgy, as if the slightest trivial thing would spark a colossal explosion, and so he fought to ignore their pointless chatter and strode onwards.
As he made it past the main routes home for many of the loud Parisians, Erik slowed down and took the time to savour the luxury of walking at ease through the city, enjoying the feeling of the wind against his face. He found surprising beauty as he looked up and saw the dramatic sunset over the tops of both plain and ornate buildings, seeing shapes and patterns in their silhouettes. Paris could be truly stunning, but it took the night to bring this hidden beauty out from the dirt. To Erik, this made Paris even more appealing.
In the day he loathed it, finding it far too busy and detesting the repulsive markets, loud stall owners and chattering people who seemed to exaggerate their happiness just to annoy him. It was the sort of thing Nadir adored; overly cheery people with braying laughs, always happy to stop you for a good ten minutes to talk about nothing, whilst at the same time trying to sell you a million and one different items that were gaudy and pointless.
But at sunset the sky became streaked with deep colours; from fiery oranges all the way down to deep mysterious indigo, the harsh light of the day finally giving in to the softer yet far more powerful night. As the moon bathed pearly light upon the cobbles, making them resemble glittering jewels, the people would finally melt away and give the city an air of peace. Whilst they all flocked to the warm lights of the Opera or the taverns, the people like Erik would be free to wander the streets and savour the peace and delight of another flawless night.
Erik found himself smiling a little as he brushed his lonely thoughts away, continuing along the quiet backstreets which were all empty save for himself. He ached to remove the uncomfortable mask that was currently scraping at his face like sandpaper, just to feel the cool wind against it, but he did not dare. The thought of what might happen should he do such a thing was too horrific to bear.
Earlier, Nadir had come barrelling into the house in such a state that he had not even noticed the brand new hole in the wall. In fact, he had almost made another hole by tripping in his excited haste and falling against it, causing it to groan in protest. He had babbled on and on about a music publisher, and the ludicrous idea that Erik could in fact publish his music anonymously, but he had soon stopped spouting when Erik had threatened to lasso his favourite Persian ornament.
In truth, though Erik had told Nadir that he despised such a stupid idea, he was fascinated by the thought of it. He had always dreamt that his music might make an impact on the world somehow, preferably not through his own anger, and if he could really do such a thing without having to show his face...
Yet again, Erik hurriedly brushed the thoughts away. He could not afford to be so preoccupied with his own worthless problems when there was a far larger one at hand; the potential risk of Christine coming to harm. The thought alone made his fists clench and his jaw tense, but he tried to stop himself from becoming too het up. He needed focus, and focus did not come with a blinding rage.
He swiftly took a short cut through a dingy back alley, and came out just behind the stables of the de Chagny townhouse. The sound of dogs patrolling the stable yard and the painfully high fencing did not deter him in the slightest, and he nimbly made his way up and over, landing gracefully on the stable roof. From there, he surveyed the darkness with his already adjusted eyes, before leaping deftly from the roof and hurrying silently through the dark to the gardens, closing the gates with only the slightest of creaks. The dogs and the high fences were no longer problems; now it was a matter of finding Christine.
He made his way to the glittering opalescent fountain, sitting calmly on the edge and trailing a hand in the cool water, looking up at the array of windows spread across the back of the house. His eyes honed in on every detail, watching for movement and listening carefully for the smallest of sounds in the night. Meg had said that Christine had a balcony, so that narrowed it down to one of three windows.
One was on the lower floors, clearly leading into a dining room or drawing room by the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses leaking from the open doors. Erik waited to see who came to the windows or doors of the other two, and he lost track of the time spent watching and waiting. Finally, he watched in relief as the figure of the Comte appeared behind one set of the doors and locked them, leaving only the balcony and consequently the room to the right side of the house left. It had to be Christine's.
Erik shifted a little on the cold hard edge of the fountain, aware that it would be a long wait. He needed to see all the lights go out in order to ensure that it was at last safe to go up and sit on her balcony like an overly faithful guard dog. The night sky above him subtly changed from fiery sunset to deep velvet, black and adorned with thousands of diamond like stars, glinting and winking at him as he looked up. Who could deny the beauty of the night when faced with such a vast expanse of brilliance?
Time dragged on slowly, Erik finding himself so bored he nearly fell head first into the fountain as sleep fought to drag down his heavy lids. Instead of succumbing to the temptation to sleep, he splashed his face with icy droplets from the fountain and forced himself to look up and stare at each and every star.
As he sat there, his neck going stiff with the effort, he found himself thrown back into turbulent memories; of himself at perhaps four years old, finding pictures in the stars. One of the gypsy children had come at sat beside his cage one clear summer night, and together they had looked up at the stars and giggled as they found all sorts of images amongst their glittering splendour. Both he and the gypsy boy were young and yet their mental age was probably that of a much older child. The boy had said to Erik, as the dawn had come and the sky was streaked with pink and yellow, 'I'm sorry that they beat you.' And Erik remembered how he had not replied, just wishing that he could somehow get free of his tormentors and escape to a place that would allow him to watch the stars with other children as often as he pleased.
Gradually, as the hours continued to crawl past, the lights in the windows began to go out. Each time a light was extinguished, Erik would feel a spark of relief in his chest. When only two remained, he stood up and eased his stiff limbs, massaging his neck and taking a few painful steps.
Finally the lights were all out, aside from a faint glowing from within Christine's room, and so Erik smiled in the darkness and walked towards the wall of the house. He was confident in the gloom, and easily found a few uneven bricks that gave him the footing he needed before climbing the wall and swinging himself up onto the balcony with practised ease. The balcony itself was large and bathed in moonlight, so when Erik peered in through the French doors he could easily see the interior of Christine's bedroom. His eyes took in the luxurious furniture, the clearly expensive decoration- and then his eyes met Christine's.
It took Erik a few precious seconds to recover from the shock that Christine was sat up waiting for him, by which time she had hopped out of bed and hurried across to the French doors, unlocking them silently and smiling shyly at him, her cheeks faintly pink. She was in a long white nightgown that was most likely far more expensive than the average Parisian's entire wardrobe, but Erik could not feel his usual disgust at the upper-classes and their mindless spending, as she looked stunning.
"I'm so glad you're here." She said softly, her voice like silk, but Erik noticed that her eyes were red from crying. That made his fists clench again. "Please, come in."
She turned to head inside, but Erik could not restrain himself. He reached out and touched her tear streaked cheek, feeling his insides twist as she closed her eyes and sighed a little at his touch, before she suddenly seemed to regain control and her eyes shot open again. She was smiling, though, so Erik could not stop the words.
"You've been crying." He said softly, the pleasure of her smile conflicting with the anger he felt at seeing her cry. The unspoken question as to why was clear in every syllable and in his pained expression. She frowned a little.
"I'll come to that in a moment." She replied in a calm voice, not at all how Erik expected her to speak seeing as she had just been crying. She motioned for him to come inside, and she then closed the French doors again with one swift movement, walking back towards her large bed. For some reason, Erik could not stop staring at it, though it made his cheeks flush a painful red. "Please sit down, that chair is quite comfortable. Would you mind if I sat in my bed?"
"Not at all." He replied quietly, now feeling awkward as she made reference to the item of furniture he kept staring at. He cursed himself for being such an idiot, focusing on the task of moving the chair to her bedside and sitting in it without a sound. Christine got under her covers and wrapped another spare blanket around her shoulders, resting back a little against the headboard.
They suddenly looked at one another, staring with a burning intensity into one another's eyes until Christine flushed a bright pink and turned away, embarrassed. The pink high on her cheeks made her look energised and healthy, and Erik suddenly remembered how she had been flushed pink and exhausted after her first performance on the Opera stage.
Tonight I gave you my soul, and I am dead.
Why did you have to fall for that fop?, Erik thought sadly as he played with the material adorning the arm of the chair he sat in, it could have all been so different. But then would it have been? Erik found himself remembering how he had felt when she had kissed him; as if he would shrivel up and die from the joy. He had never seen himself as worthy of being with her, always striving to meet her perfection, and now he wondered if he would have ever felt worthy of her.
"So..." He cleared his throat nervously, anxious to end the thoughts circling in his mind. "You were going to tell me why you have been crying?"
Christine looked back into his eyes as soon as the hesitant words were out, shifting awkwardly and fidgeting. She wrapped a strand of glossy hair around her finger and began to twirl it anxiously, her face troubled and even a little wary. Erik frowned.
"I-I just...promise me now that you will not get angry and fly into a rage." She said softly, though the worry made the words a little firmer than usual. Erik felt immediately irritated by her obvious fear at telling him. He could bet almost all his possessions on her story revolving around her greasy, slime ball fop of a husband. Oh, how he wanted Raoul de Chagny to be in the room right now. The things he felt like doing to that vile Vicomte were unpleasant to think about, and yet he would sincerely relish in the act of carrying them out.
"Yes. I promise, then." He replied quietly, hoping that the anger was not audible even now. He tensed as she prepared herself to tell him the story, ready now for the anger rush that was bound to flood his veins and make him yell.
"Thank you." she breathed out in relief, visibly calmer. She settled herself back against the pillows comfortably, pleased. "Only today I called in on the Giry's-"
Erik was not prepared for that. He gasped aloud and his nails dug into the arms of the chair, the pressure hurting him, and he felt his mouth drop open. She couldn't have gone there- no! That would easily ruin all they had planned so far!
"And when Meg opened the door she did exactly what you have just done." Christine fought back a giggle, her eyes sparkling in almost childlike delight. Erik could forget the haggard look she had now when he saw her eyes shimmer like the very stars he had watched earlier; he was lost in them entirely. He had never met another person with eyes as beautiful as hers. "So I, of course, demanded to know why she was so horrified to see me again. At first she refused to tell me, swearing that I didn't need to know, but eventually she told me."
Erik gritted his teeth. He didn't dare fly off the handle and into the rage he could feel brewing at this unpleasant news, but he could not stop himself from hissing like a disgruntled cat. Meg had just gone ahead and completely shredded his plans and hopes to keep Christine in relative darkness, to preserve her sanity and to stop her from worrying.
"Don't be like that, Erik." Christine sighed, and Erik immediately tried to shake off the anger hearing the irritation in her tone. "It's not fair that I was kept in the dark for so long- do you honestly believe that I shouldn't know? In fact, don't answer that. Now I know about the potential threat from my husband I also know about how hard you are working to keep me safe, and for that I am eternally grateful. Thank you."
Erik merely nodded, not sure how else to respond. It was true that he had wanted to keep Christine oblivious, but perhaps she and Meg were right. It was, after all, Christine at risk. He decided to not argue the matter.
"I received your letter and I acted upon your request straight away. Raoul will still travel to the South as scheduled, and I will remain in Paris staying with his parents in this house." Christine could not stop her face from slipping into an expression of disgust as she said this, looking and sounding unimpressed by this part of the plan. "I will miss my husband and I will miss the South, for I love that part of the country greatly, but I will stay if you think it best. And of course I will be bored to tears here, as every single member of the Paris gentry seems to despise me."
Erik had to hide the smirk that filled his face when she said those words, as she sounded so much like a spoilt child rather than the dignified young woman he had grown to adore. She glared at him, making him stop the spluttering laughter immediately, feeling guilty as he knew she would still be feeling annoyed and lied too regarding this whole issue.
"And I sincerely wish that you wouldn't bully Meg, Erik." She continued, making Erik jump and turn the full power of his accusing stare onto her.
"What?" he snapped, sounding grouchy and defensive. "Did you just say that I bully Meg Giry? For goodness sakes, Christine, if she has told you that I think she is bending the truth."
"No, I rather doubt that somehow. She didn't tell me that, I found out myself. She had been crying, you see, and she mentioned that you were angry with her. I don't know why you found the need to be so mean that she cried, but I'm sure you will tell me the reason right now." She replied sternly, her usually warm brown eyes icy cold. Erik recoiled a little; where had this confidence bloomed from?
"I will not be telling you anything of the sort, as there is nothing to tell." He snapped back.
Silence filled the room completely, crackling like lightening with the tension. Christine turned away from him and began to search through the possessions on her bedside table, whilst Erik stared down at his hands with a fierce scowl on his features. The mask was really starting to irritate his sensitive skin now, and he ached to remove it. But even the painful fire of his skin being rubbed raw was not enough to make him take off the mask and see Christine scream in petrified horror again.
Suddenly, Christine sighed irritably and fell back against her pillows with a scowl. Erik looked up, startled.
"What?" he demanded, confused and exasperated with her temper. She looked up at him, the intense annoyance clouding her eyes and making her seem angrier than Erik suspected she actually was.
"I was just sorting through my jewellery box and I have found the letter I had meant to send to Meg, to give to you." she muttered, showing him the small letter and flushing in embarrassment at her own mistake. "It would seem I am incapable of even doing the simplest of tasks correctly."
Erik could sense that her anger was building, and that soon she would be hysterical. The shock of today's discoveries and now the embarrassment at supposedly being stupid had made her upset, so he decided to intervene. He often wished that someone would do the same for him.
"Well, I am here now. Why don't I read it?" he suggested softly. She looked up at him with wide, appalled eyes, clutching onto the letter with renewed force.
"No!" she protested, stunned. "At least, not here!"
"Why not?" he teased reaching for the letter, which she quickly whipped out of his reach, still looking completely astounded by him and his actions. "It is addressed to me, is it not?"
"Well, yes, but-"
"So I may read it when I choose." He finished in a smug voice, snatching the letter and waving it before her horrified face with a flourish. He ignored her shriek of protest, which she quickly stopped for fear of being heard by whoever was in the room next door, and continued to methodically rip open the thin envelope. He flipped open the letter, eyes scanning the neat words in her unmistakeable handwriting, and soon his teasing superiority faded out into pure, undiluted shock. It would have been comical to see the scarily rapid transformation from smug to astounded, but Christine was too busy squirming with embarrassment to really notice.
She watched him, with nervous eyes, as he read and then re-read the letter, cringing away and hiding her bright red face in her cool hands. She didn't want him to read the letter now, not when she had just been so furious with him. That letter was one of admiration and forgiveness; not a letter that she wanted to be associated with when she had just been sulking.
She plucked up the courage from nowhere to take her face from her hands and watch him, until he stopped scanning the lines of words over and over to look at her. His eyes were stunned and humbled and just so full of- she hastily looked away, not comfortable with the intensity of his stare. Those golden eyes that had once caused her heart to beat faster with fear were now capable of turning her and every coherent thought inside her head to a trembling wreck.
She heard him move, though she was not sure how as Erik always moved with swift silence, and she could feel that he was close by. She stole a quick sideways glance, refusing to turn around as if she were a stubborn child, and saw that he was now knelt at her bedside, his face fairly close to her own. Though she fought to keep her head turned, he reached out with a cool hand to turn her head. She was still stubbornly refusing to meet his gaze, so he lifted her chin and moved slightly to meet her eyes.
Shimmering golden orbs pooled with emotion met the shy gaze of deep, warm brown eyes veiled with thick lashes, and this time they did not break away from the intense gaze. Instead, they moved closer, drawn in by some invisible force; as if they were both magnets, trying to resist one another but failing with each second spent apart.
"You were no foolish child." He whispered, tears of emotion rolling down onto his pale cheek and the discreet mask. His voice was heavy with emotion, trying to control himself and yet not able to even though he felt like a fool. "And you were worthy, so worthy; it was I who was not worthy. I never could be, Christine...I have nothing to forgive and you- how could you of all people call yourself pitiful?"
Christine reached out and touched his face, her fingers feeling warm flesh beneath their cold tips, and she felt as if her heart were being ripped. She didn't even know why she felt this way- but she did know that seeing Erik so affected by the words she had written him was making her feel as if she might be violently sick.
"I hurt you, Erik, inexcusably so. Do not forget that atrocious way I handled the entire situation, acting like a foolish child and a spoilt diva!" she shot back, her own voice cracking now with tears, and Erik's face pooled with horror as one streamed from her eye and ran down her face.
"No, Christine, look back at all I did." He replied brokenly, as if the mere reference to his insanity made him hurt. Christine realised, with another nauseating swing in her stomach, that he probably was hurting at the memories. She needed to stop him, to make him stop blaming himself for everything... "I kidnapped you, I controlled you, I lied, I murdered-"
"You also gave me everything!" Christine tried to deter him from the spiral of self-hate that he was lapsing into by the second. She gripped his hand passionately, her voice strong and practically glowing with the emotions stirring inside her. "And I- I threw it all back in your face. Dear God! How did I do that to you?! Oh, Erik, I cannot even express how I-"
"Christine. Don't" he whispered, his words soft and yet carrying the full impact of an anvil. Pain radiated from every syllable and made Christine feel as if she were going to die right there in front of him-
And then she was leaning forwards and kissing him with uncontrollable passion. It was as if all the emotion within her had built up and up and it was exploding out of her with no control and no thought. She locked her arms around his neck, desperate to be close to him, and she felt him tense in surprise. But then, to her delight, he returned the fierce embrace and began to kiss her back.
She didn't know why she was kissing him so fiercely, or why she craved the feel of his lips of her own and his arms tight around her. She felt as if she were on fire, blazing brightly, in a way she had never experienced before. She did not want to be cradled, or treated gently, she wanted to be kissed and embraced by this man as if she were the most desirable woman in the world. The fire surging through her veins was confusing her mind, muddling the thoughts, leaving room for instinct and instinct alone. She felt so...so...
She suddenly stopped, pulling back from him and looking into his wild, confused eyes. Her breath was coming in short, ragged gasps, hot and desperate against his face. She realised, as she moved back in to kiss him again, that it was not that she wanted his lips upon her own- she needed this. Her heart was pounding, her head spinning, nearly crying in the sweet joy of what felt and tasted like passion and even love-
But then she was falling to the floor, his tight grip on her suddenly gone as he vanished into thin air without a word. She hit the floor with a gasp, feeling the cold smooth wood hit her hot skin, but she did not feel any pain. She could not even move; laying there dazed on the wooden floor, trying to calm her rapid breathing. Why had she done that? What on earth had possessed her to act so stupidly?
Why had she kissed him?
Slowly, and stumbling a little with the surge of blood that went to her head as she stood up, Christine sat heavily back down in bed and lay down, her breathing slowing and the heat on her cheeks fading like coals left to cool in the grate overnight. She knew, somehow, that he would be out there somewhere, still guarding her. Her lips felt swollen and bruised from that kiss, and her heart was screaming out for him to still be here.
The night was doing strange things to her, she was sure of it.
Outside in the darkness, beneath a hazy moon, hidden from her line of sight yet guarding diligently all the same, Erik sat and cried.