Author's Note: Peronally, I can't stand songfics or fics that have lyrics weaved throughout the story, it drives me crazy. However, if anyone wants to understand how Erik was feeling or sort of identify with what was going through his mind in this chapter, I strongly suggest the song Roxanne from the Moulin Rouge! soundtrack at top volume. Often, words are not enough to convey moments of intensity, and that's why we've invented music ;-)
The night had been a fantastic event, just as Christine knew it would be. Meg had been adorable dressed as a pixie while Raoul had made a very dashing prince; Christine had earned a few admiring looks for her own costume at the masquerade. The three of them had been a great force to reckon with when it came time for the costume contest, and together they had won first place in the group contest. Unfortunately none of them had even been considered for the individual competition, but it would have been a night to remember if there had not been a contest in the first place anyway because of all the fun.
It was a shame that Erik had missed out on the night.
Erik, that was the problem. He hadn't made it to the costume party, and Christine was let down though she'd made an effort not to show it. Ms. Giry had mentioned that he wouldn't be able to attend because he was running so late. Christine hadn't thought much of it at the time, but here on the ride home, she had a few quiet moments to ponder.
Erik had never been late for anything in all the time that she had known him; in fact he was punctual to a fault. Furthermore, why hadn't he asked to speak directly to Christine when he delivered the message?
Things weren't adding up, but she was still riding high on the night's excitement, so happy to be with her friends.
"The masquerade has been the best part of the whole trip," Meg gushed. "I'm going to move to Paris next year- Christine, you and I will be neighbors, I swear it!"
Raoul chuckled. "Then that makes two of us. No point in staying on the island anymore when my two best friends will have moved off. I already called my brother a few days ago and arranged for a house here in the city, we have to go see it,"
"I still don't know why you bothered to live on the island with us at all, Raoul. Your family is so well-off, you could live anywhere in the world!" Christine said.
Raoul shrugged, "Ah, Christine, haven't you heard that American expression? It goes, home is where the heart is. Sentimental, don't you think? I stayed there because my family roots are on that island. Our grandparents are buried there, but I stayed these last few years because I didn't think I could leave the two of you. Now that you'll both be in Paris, I have to move."
Christine patted his knee. "You love us that much, Raoul?"
"Of course, you didn't think I could be such a spoiled brat, did you? We've known each other all our lives, of course I love you," he said, kissing her hand.
"Oh, so gallant! Raoul, you might as well be a vicomte!" Meg laughed.
He raised an eyebrow, "You don't think I'd have what it takes to be a full comte? I'm smart in business and great with the ladies!"
Christine laughed, "You'd only be a vicomte, Philippe would be the comte- either him or your father,"
Raoul gave them both an evil look. "Then I know just who to kill to win the seat of family power."
The car exploded in laughter.
Erik sat in the front salon, waiting for everyone to come back from the masquerade. He sat, patient and faithful as a lowly dog. He was pathetic, he knew, and miserable as well. His wife, his love, was happier to be away from him with another man.
Christine was happier to be with Raoul de Chagny.
Again, he held no ill will towards the boy. There was no way to compete with him; Raoul was young, confident and handsome. What had the Queen called him? Oh, yes, a Golden God. A corpse could not contend with an Adonis. Erik knew he could kill Raoul, easily, but then he would only gain Christine's fierce hatred rather than merely the indifference she had shown tonight.
Grief and betrayal were wearing him down; unhappiness was draining to both body and mind.
Erik closed his eyes for a few moments, resting, not yet ready for sleep. He might never sleep again, not now when he knew that Christine would only dream of other men. He couldn't blame her- there was no anger, no jealousy. Only resignation and the usual bitter acceptance.
She doesn't love me anymore, perhaps she no longer cares at all…
For the moment, Erik was glad to be alone. He hadn't bothered with another mask once he'd made it home to his chateau. The house was empty now and had been for several hours; it was a dark, cavernous place ideal for his sadness. Yes, sadness. Erik felt stripped of everything.
No more joy or passion, no fury or rage or desire to kill…he was simply very sad.
Christine had wanted to mend things between them, but it was just in her nature to bring peace. She might see Erik as just a friend now; he had to admit that her friendship would be better than nothing, but he had wanted so much more…to witness the love grow between Raoul and his Christine would be a slow killing. Again, Erik did not blame her- she really couldn't help where her soul had found love.
But why now…?
Christine was no more a champion over her feelings than Erik was over his. They were truly alike in few ways, but in this instance they shared the trait of being helpless to the heart.
White light swung across the wall before him in a graceful arc- the car had come into the driveway. Erik could hear the engine; one of the doors opened and then shut. He could hear voices outside, all of them excited and happy. A great deal of laughter. Erik wondered if Christine was kissing Raoul again at that very moment, in front of the home she had shared with him for months.
The car's engine died away- Erik assumed that Marcel was pulling it into the separate garage at the back of the house. The front door opened, but he could hear only one pair of shoes clicking on the floor.
Clicking shoes, a woman then…never mine…Erik exerted the effort of raising his head from the back of the chair where he'd been resting. The house was dark. He watched as the figure, Christine, groped her way to a light switch. The frosted light came alive in the foyer and Christine glanced around; she had expected him to be there.
"Erik?" She called out.
For a moment Erik romanced the idea of staying where he was. He was still in shadow; the foyer light didn't reach far into his cozy front salon. Christine wouldn't think to look for him in there. He might just ignore her, stay where he was and gather his strength until the morning, where he would have regained his anger and vengeful energy enough to confront her.
But no.
"I'm in here, Christine," he called out to her. Erik didn't like how flat his voice sounded.
She turned sharply to her left and stepped inside the room. Again, she groped for the lights and as he watched her, Erik remembered himself. "No, Christine. It would be better to leave them off. I'm not wearing my mask,"
He could see her face clearly as if she had been standing before him in the full light of day. Her eyes narrowed and she tilted her head to the side, she was trying to figure out where he was in the room. Erik watched the movement of her throat as she swallowed and moistened her lips. "Why not?"
"I left it somewhere and I didn't feel like looking for a new one is all. Best to leave the light out if you want to speak with me," he said. He was tired, it seemed even the simplest pleasures were beyond his reach.
Christine creased her brows and took a quick breath. "Erik, I'm not afraid of your face. I know I reacted horribly that night. I promise you, it was only because I was startled. If you let me turn on the lights, I won't look at you with fear or disgust. I'll look at you like I would look at anyone else, I swear. Please, Erik?"
There was a silence, broken with an audible sigh. "If you wish, just…keep them low, please,"
Christine did as Erik wished, and turned to the wall. The light wheel was there, and she turned it. "All right, say when,"
Erik allowed her to illuminate the room just far enough that she would be able to see him clearly, but it wasn't so bright that she would be able to see every last detail. He didn't warm to the idea of her counting the veins exposed at his temples instead of looking him in the eyes when they finally spoke face-to-face for the first time.
"That's enough Christine," he said, meaning the light.
Erik watched her back, although it was difficult for him to judge her body language from across the room. She wore a long black cloak that enveloped her from the shoulders down. Idly, he wondered about her costume underneath.
Slowly, Christine turned to face him. Instinctively, Erik looked away from her as she came closer and sat down in the soft leather chair across from him. Turned toward the shadows as he was, Erik's hair fell over his face; a black curtain to keep him hidden.
Christine glanced down to see his pale hands clenched over his knees. She scooted her chair closer to his, until they were an inch apart. She brought her hand over his- the icy chill remained on his skin, but she felt the tension leave his skeletal fingers.
"Erik, let me look at you, please…"
He did not reply, he only turned toward her. Very slowly, deliberately exposing himself inches at a time; he wanted to spare her the shock of seeing him all at once. First, she observed the mottled skin tone that began just under his jaw and ears, at the pulse points of his neck. He moved a few more inches to reveal his chin and mouth. His lips were set in a tight, thin line. They were not pink as hers were, but they were a slightly darker shade of gray than that of the surrounding skin of his face.
Above his lips was his most frightening of attributes, or perhaps lack thereof- the small triangular hole in the center of his face where a nose seemed never to have grown. The pale gray skin over his cheekbones seemed taut, papery thin. Christine wondered, if she pinched Erik's cheek, would the skin tear off and come away with her fingers?
Finally, she came to meet his eyes. The twin amber flames danced at her from their recessed sockets, the skin surrounding his eyes was very dark, nearly black in the dim light.
Erik was a devastating sight; there was never a man alive who could've denied the fact. Christine kept her face straight at they stared at each other, mere feet of distance separating them. It was strange to look at him now, when for weeks she had grown so accustomed to his masks in place of a true face.
To her mind, when she thought of Erik, she pictured a body and a voice, a pair of luminous eyes. His face had been an ever-changing sea of color and finishes; his masks had been full, covering him from chin to forehead. As different as they had been, the masks had been uniform in their facial composition- they had all possessed straight noses, high cheekbones and occasionally a grinning mouth.
So this is the real Erik...
He had not moved, not even to blink. Erik remained as still as he could; he knew the effect of sudden movements when he wore no mask. Christine continued her assessment, and he allowed her eyes to roam him, however uncomfortable it made him feel. She seemed to be satisfied, finally, when the corners of her mouth turned up.
"Well, say something, Erik!"
He hadn't expected her to smile at him; the girl seemed suddenly playful. "I…you're not afraid of me,"
"No, I never was. It just caught me by surprise the first time, we never really had a chance to talk about it…" Christine said.
Erik noticed that she had not lifted her hand from his. Tentatively, he turned his hand over, palm-to-palm, and laced their fingers. "That is my fault. I have no experience in these sorts of things."
Christine gently squeezed his hand; her expression was reassuring, but very serious. "Erik, it's all right. I understand. But…I figured out some things tonight, we need to talk right now. It's very important."
The pain of dread instantly arrested Erik's body.
She is an honest girl, a good woman. She only wants to tell me the name of the man who has claimed her heart before she leaves me. No need, Christine. I know him quite well already- Raoul de Chagny! Your first lover, your first love! How could I have expected you to stay with me? Oh, God…I never thought it could hurt this much…!
Christine stood from her chair. "I'd like to go talk in our room, please," she said as she crossed the room, expecting Erik to follow her.
Sadness and grief washed over the man, seizing his chest. Erik stood on shaking legs and took a deep, painful breath as he rose to follow her towards the door. "Christine," he said suddenly.
She turned around and smiled at him. Good God, had he ever seen anything so wonderful? Erik's heart clenched, his stomach knotted and his thoughts raced, as if he were facing his own death. In a way he'd never known before, he felt as if he had died already.
Please, no, not yet. Christine, there's still so much we haven't done, so many things I never had the chance to say…
"Yes, Erik?"
"Christine, you just…you look so beautiful tonight,"
Her smile brightened even more at his compliment. Her eyes lit up, eager and so happy. "Thank you Erik. I never thought I'd find a use for this again, but for tonight it worked perfectly,"
Christine stood in the middle of the double doorframe between the front foyer and the salon. She tugged on the gold ties of her cloak it fell away, a pool of black velvet at her feet. Underneath, she wore the outfit of violet silk that she'd worn on their first day together, all those months ago in Tejar.
The same outfit she'd been wearing when she had agreed to wear Erik's ring.
O, Christine…I'd thought you such an honest, pure angel, but I can see it now, I can see what you really are. You think I'll let you leave me for him in those wedding silks?
Christine smiled brightly, expecting to share a laugh with Erik about her costume. She knew that he'd recognize the violet silk that she'd been wearing when they first met. It had been her plan to keep herself hidden in the cloak until they'd arrived together at the masquerade- she had wanted to surprise him at the party. Leaving Erik speechless was one feat she'd thought difficult, but not impossible. The only way to do it would have been to catch him off guard by wearing the costume; it had seemed to her a wonderful idea.
At the time.
Christine stood before him in the costume with the warm cloak at her feet. Erik stood before her, and though she could see his face Christine couldn't read his expression. She hoped that in time she would come to know his face as well as he knew hers. As it was, she couldn't read his thoughts and his features were frozen.
His entire form had gone still, though his eyes shifted slightly, just enough that she knew he was looking her up and down. Still, he didn't say anything. She heard a strange, muffled noise in his throat, and his long fingers were twitching at his sides.
"Erik, don't you recognize my costume?"
Finally, he found his voice. Christine felt her stomach drop at the menace she heard laced into his words. "Of course I remember. You wore that when you took my ring. Thought you'd wear it tonight for him, did you?"
Christine frowned as Erik stepped closer to her. He'd drawn himself up to his full height, and as he came closer she saw that in place of his usual grim suits, he wore a costume of blood-red and obsidian. It was torn and tattered. Mad devil!
"What do you mean?" she asked; alarmed instincts were sounding off within her, but Christine couldn't understand what had happened.
"You thought I didn't know? I was unsure what your note meant at first, but I went to the masquerade to see, to be certain,"
"You were there?"
"And I saw what you did." Erik said with a strange clipped tone. His words reminded her of a blade, the guillotine chop. "I once thought that I could get by without, but now that I've had a taste I know that I've become an addict. I will not let him take you from me, Christine. You promised yourself to me, how can you go back on your word like this? After everything I've done for you?"
"Erik, I don't know what you mean-"
"I won't have it, do you understand me? I've earned this happiness; you are my gift, my reward. I won't let you or anyone else make a fool of me!" Erik yelled.
Before Christine could move out of his way, Erik had pounced on her and backed her into the wall. He shoved her hard enough that she hit her head, but he did not relent. The skeletal fingers gripped her wrists and pinned them on either side of her face. "Erik, let me go!" She screamed as she fought against him.
Erik moved closer and trapped her with his larger, stronger body. "No, you are mine, I'll see you dead before I see you with another man!"
Christine felt his cold hand seize her neck and all at once a sea of blackness washed over her mind, drowning her. Erik breathed heavily as he held the slumped body of his wife. His hand stroked over her dark hair. He touched her cheek and lips. A soft whisper slipped through the darkness. "My Christine…"
"This is it, Casa de Chagny," Raoul announced as he opened the door and stepped over the threshold. "Not exactly the Latour chateau, but it'll do," he drawled in mock modesty.
In fact, the place that he'd secured from his brother was actually a high-rise penthouse apartment in one of the many artistic districts of Paris. Here Raoul would be better able to aid his brother with the family business. Philippe had been glad that Raoul finally felt ready to take a more active role in the family, he had been anticipating the time when Raoul would become less a student and more a partner in the company. Their father had been happy to hear the news as well and had given Philippe a hand in procuring Raoul's new home.
He flipped a light switch and tried not to smile as Meg, Claire and Marcel began to look around his new place. "Yeah, I guess you'll have to make due with only three bedrooms, huh Raoul?" Meg teased.
Raoul smiled and took off the jacket of his prince costume before he sat down on the couch in the sunken living room. Claire observed as she usually did, with a stern eye. Such a young man with a place like this! Too much money for his own good, just like his brother…still, I would rather have Christine with Raoul than with Erik. I can only hope that what he saw at the masquerade was enough to turn her out of his life…
Raoul set up his guests with drinks and they all became quite comfortable in his new home. He opened a few windows to allow the cool breeze through the room; the winds came, scented with jasmine. Though it had been warm enough to swim only the week before, the autumn was quickly sweeping the country. Raoul looked out over the city. 'There really is nothing like holidays in Paris, he thought. The island is the base of the family, its where we came from, but Paris is my home.
His thoughts were interrupted by a chirping ring. Raoul glanced back to the living room. Meg took her cell and stepped aside to talk. The conversation was quick. Meg turned around to address them, her face kitted in confusion. "Um, that was Christine…at least, I think it was…"
Claire stood up and went to her. "What do you mean?"
"I don't know, she just sounded a little…nevermind, she just said that she and Erik, well, you know, wouldn't mind if we stayed with Raoul tonight," Meg said, wiggling her eyebrows and trying not to smile.
Claire's expression was as disapproving as ever.
Raoul, however, took the news easily, "Great, we can have a slumber party. Me, Meg, Marcel and Meg's mom." He laughed. He understood that the newlyweds needed time alone, and truly he wouldn't have minded some time alone with Meg, but he could hardly approach her with her mother always looking over his shoulder with those irritable eyes.
As if Claire had read Raoul's mind, she ushered Meg into one of the bedrooms for them to share, leaving Raoul in the living room with Marcel. "That was strange, is Madame Giry against all men or just the ones she's met?" Marcel asked.
Raoul shrugged. "No idea, I've known her most of my life- Christine and me both, she's always been pretty overbearing. Overprotective of the girls and constantly nagging at me and my brother. Who needs a mom when you've got the neighbor, right?" Raoul laughed.
Marcel smiled. "Would you like a refill, sir?"
"Hey, you're not on duty. I should ask you, and while I'm at it, let me ask you who you like for next year's World Cup," Raoul said as he filled the other man's cup. Marcel smiled, it had been a while since anyone other than Christine had treated him as more a man than a servant.
Back in the bedroom, Claire began her interrogation of Meg. "How did she sound? You said that she didn't sound like her usual self,"
Meg shrugged and kicked off her shoes. She didn't know why her mother always had to be so nosy with other people's business. "I don't know mom, Christine's voice just sounded…I don't know, distant, I guess. Like she was distracted or something,"
"But what did she say?"
"She just said that Erik wanted her alone for tonight, and that we should keep away from the chateau for a little while that's all," Meg said through a yawn as she flopped on the bed.
"Erik wasn't on the phone?"
"No! It was just Christine, and she said that we could come over in the morning for breakfast before our flight left tomorrow,"
Claire sighed. Meg was tired, and had given all the details that she could. Looking out the bedroom window, Claire wept a silent prayer for Christine. The phone call did not bode well, nor did the veiled warning.
They were Erik's words, not Christine's.
Claire shuddered to think about what he would do to that girl now that he had her alone, and had witnessed her betrayal. Oh Christine, what have I done…?
"Our flight leaves in a little over an hour, where is Christine?" Claire demanded upon seeing Erik.
The man was only halfway down the stairs, dressed in a long robe over black silk pajamas. A matte black mask was over his face, his eyes were dancing flames. Erik could see behind her that Marcel and Meg were still in the driveway saying their goodbyes. Raoul wasn't with them, a fact that satisfied him very much.
"Claire, you are polite as ever. I wish that I could run up and fetch her for you, but I'm afraid that Christine sleeps like the dead," he said smoothly, glaring at her.
Claire felt her stomach drop. "Oh God…Erik, what have you done?"
"Only what is natural between a man and his wife. It is not of your concern, it never was," he said sharply.
"Not my concern- Erik I know that you've kidnapped her, you can't keep her here as your slave night after night, you know she'll never love you,"
"Watch what you say, Claire, or I may let it slip to little Meg how she came into this world. You know I'll do it, I wouldn't push my luck if I were you."
"You're a slimy bastard-"
"And you are a dried up old crone, what difference does it make? We can insult each other until the end of time, but I'm afraid that I already have my mother to contend with. You have your daughter and your home. I gave them to you, I can take them away. Forget Christine, she is mine." Erik warned her, his voice icy and his posture imposing.
"Oh, good morning Erik!" Meg chirped as she stepped into the house.
At the sight of the cheerful blonde, Erik's entire demeanor shifted from the intimidating, manipulative creature that Claire had come to loathe to the kind, gentle man Meg thought him to be. "Meg, how are you?" He asked kindly.
She shrugged, "I'm doing all right, though I wish we could stay longer,"
Erik resumed his descent down the stairs and stood before her. He genuinely liked Meg, and she made Christine so happy…perhaps he might do away with Claire, and allow the girl to stay as a companion for his wife. Claire stood off to the side; clearly terrified that Erik might harm her daughter.
Erik smiled wickedly behind the mask. It was great fun to him to tease Claire- he loved to toy with her. Did she expect he'd attack Meg there in the foyer? "I'm sorry Meg, and I do wish that we could extend your visit. Perhaps you might come see us again at Christmas?"
Meg nodded, "I'd like that. It would be good to spend a little time with you and get to know you better,"
Erik put a hand on Meg's shoulder and tried not to laugh out loud at Claire's terrified expression behind her daughter's back. He was deliberately trying to scare the older woman, and having fun doing so. Did she see him as such a monster?
"I would love to know you better as well. Lord knows I have room to spare- it would make Christine very happy if you could come and stay with us. I would welcome some…fresh blood here in the house," Erik told Meg, though his eyes bore into those of her mother.
Claire could take no more. "That's not your decision, Erik! Meg will stay with me, and frankly I think that Christine should come home with us as well,"
Meg raised her brows, "What are you talking about? Christine and Erik are married, she can't come home with us,"
"Meg, you took the words right out of my mouth," Erik said lightly. "Claire, you can't be so petty as to demand I release my wife just because of the history we share,"
It was a deliberate taunt, seeding the doubt in Meg's mind about her mother's past, and how Erik played into it all. She stood beside Erik and turned to her mother. Claire didn't like that his spidery hand remained on Meg's shoulder- she couldn't trust the man; he was devious as a snake. Meg's brow was furrowed and her mouth was tense. "Mom, what is he talking about?"
Before Claire could answer, Erik spoke for her. "Oh, it's nothing too troubling, little Meg. Your mother and I simply have a misunderstanding that's about two decades old. If you'd like me to enlighten you-"
"No, Erik, stop,"
"Oh all right Claire. We shouldn't be wasting time arguing about all this now. You two must say goodbye to Christine, and then I suppose the two of you can clear the air on the flight back home," Erik said, feeling smug and triumphant.
He glanced up. "Oh, and here she is now. Christine, darling, come downstairs. Claire and Meg will be leaving us soon,"
Christine stood at the top of the stairs, wearing a kimono-style robe of petal pink. Her hair flowed over her back, her expression very serene. She looked down and saw her friends and her husband below her. Graceful as a queen, she made her way downstairs. "I'm so glad that you were able to come visit me," she said as she stepped to Meg and hugged her friend. "I had a great time with you,"
Meg patted her on the back. "Christine, home isn't the same without you…"
"Well, you can always come and live with us," Christine said hopefully.
Meg pulled back and laughed, "I think I'd rather live with Raoul than get in the way of you two lovebirds,"
"Meg!" Claire barked sharply.
"Oh, just kidding mom!" Meg said, but then leaned in and whispered to Christine, "Really, I'd love to stay if I'm ever able to come back to Paris,"
Christine laughed and went to Erik, who wrapped his arm around her waist. "Well, not to rush you, but your flight…"
Meg mock-pouted, "Okay, Erik, you don't have to kick us out…I'm just joking," she smiled. "Don't worry, Erik, we'll be out of your hair in just a second."
Meg then did the unthinkable; she stepped over and slipped her arms around Erik. He seemed totally caught off guard, but then awkwardly returned the hug to Meg. "Ah, um, I'll miss you too Meg. Remember, you're always welcome to come back to us,"
Meg glanced at her mother, who seemed somehow caught between a scowl and the urge to scream. "I'll keep that in mind, Erik, thank you. Christine, you're my best friend, I love you. Promise me you'll write and call until our next visit, all right?"
Christine nodded. "You know I will, Meg."
Claire could take no more of this. "That's enough, Meg, let's go,"
Practically dragging Meg away from Erik and Christine, Claire pulled her daughter along and at once were back into the car. Marcel was a swift driver, the car had vanished from the drive in no time at all.
Erik turned to Christine. "Wonderful performance, my wife. How are you feeling?"
She smiled at him. "I feel fine Erik, perfect in fact."
"Yes, because you are. Now, let's get back to the bedroom," Erik said as he led her back up the stairs. They padded down the hallway and Erik opened the door to allow Christine to enter the room first.
She sat down on the bed. Erik frowned as he took up his camera. "Christine?"
"Yes, Erik?"
"Strip for me."
Author's Note: Oh, snap!