Seemingly endless hours later, just as Christine's muscles were about to seize up, Erik dropped a final sack on the floor, gazed about the room and pronounced the job done.
"There is nothing left here which is of real value or use to me outside the Opera House," he said brusquely, brushing his hands together dismissively and smiling slightly at the obviously relieved Christine.
She smiled back, then cast her eyes over the emptier room. Her expression turned sombre as she noted all of the many items which had to be abandoned. No matter what Erik said, Christine knew that some things were left as a matter of necessity- the mirrors, the vast majority of the artwork and books, the organ…
It seemed that Erik was definitely of the same mind when it came to his beloved instrument; he had swung around as the faint sound of distant horse hooves approached the cavern, as if the appearance of Madame Giry leading Cesar would finally separate him from this place forever. He stepped lightly but sorrowfully towards the organ, stripped bare of its manuscript wallpaper, and ran a tender, ungloved hand across its ivory keys. Erik turned and glanced back at Christine, who smiled sadly. With this encouragement, the man settled himself comfortably upon the stiff wooden stool, flexed his fingers and began to play.
Christine didn't know how she would classify this music, what emotion she could connect to the crashing chords and the rich melody pouring from the pipes. Erik was improvising, she could tell that from the way he hung his head as he played, no need to keep an eye on the keys, to perfect harmonies or synchronisation. He looked so comfortable, at ease, one with the music- clichéd as that sounded. And yet it was sad. The musician was being torn from his instrument. This was a funeral dirge for a lifelong companion as much as anything else.
Cesar snorted softly from the space behind Christine's shoulder, and she jumped slightly, having lost focus on anything but the man and his music. She turned to find Madame Giry gazing solemnly at the organ, and knew that the woman understood Erik's compulsion.
When the final note died away across the lake and Erik slumped slightly in his seat, Madame Giry and Christine clapped. He didn't turn around at this unexpected applause, and the women soon stopped. Christine felt any remaining traces of a smile die from her lips, and she turned to Cesar in an attempt to give Erik a moment of private reflection. Madame Giry was of the same mind, and the pair spent quite an unusual amount of time fixing the final load of bags into place on Cesar's back.
At last Erik stood and walked out of the room for a moment, leaving Christine to stare at Madame Giry in puzzlement. But then he was back, his arms full of black material. He strode back to the organ, gazed at it one last time and then swept the black cloth over the keyboards, pulling the material into place. Nothing could be done about the pipes, and Christine hoped that if the Inspector did discover this place, he would leave the organ alone.
Madame Giry walked towards Erik, gesturing towards the mirrors lining the walls. "You would not consider donating a couple of these mirrors to the girls' dressing rooms, would you? It's just that they mope and complain so…"
Erik nodded curtly at Madame Giry, and Christine glanced at the mirrors herself. Most were still covered with odd bolts of cloth, some dusty, some more recently disturbed. It appeared that Erik had left them all, something which puzzled her a little; judging from the array throughout his rooms, mirrors seemed like a vital item to the man. The fact that he wasn't taking one into his new life intrigued her.
Was it a good sign, an indicator that he felt more confident with his appearance nowadays, with less of a need to punish himself? Christine hoped so.
She felt a sudden pang of loss and sadness as she was reminded of the mirror in her dressing room, of the vital role it had played in their lives. Erik would no longer watch her, hidden behind the blank panels of two-way glass. Christine supposed she should be relieved by this fact, but somehow she felt upset. So much mystery and fantasy would be removed from her life. As indecent as it all was, it had been an integral part of the pair's bizarre relationship for years.
Christine wondered if she could even bear visiting the chapel after Erik left, mourning for something other than her father.
"Oh, come now," Madame Giry breathed softly into her ear, having abandoned her inspection of the mirrors. "He is not dead, after all. You'll be able to visit him quite easily."
Christine flushed, not having realised the fact that she was displaying her emotions so obviously. She glanced back up and met Erik's eye. She couldn't hold on to her feelings of wretchedness when the man was looking so infuriatingly pleased at her reaction.
"Aren't we just about ready to leave?" she asked flatly, unwilling to give her companions another moment to tease her.
Madame Giry shook her head and moved away, stepping towards Cesar, who was waiting patiently by the entrance to the tunnel. "I daresay we are, Christine, and I will be waiting for you two outside with the carriage." With that, she left the cavern, Cesar trotting dutifully behind her.
Once she had gone, the atmosphere felt more gloomy immediately. Erik merely stood and gazed around at the place he was being forced to abandon, no doubt imagining it all being ripped to pieces by the snarling teeth of packs of dogs. Christine tried her best to avoid these thoughts herself, and uncomfortably allowed Erik his moment.
After a time, Erik turned his back on his organ and the mirrors, and, fixing his cloak around his shoulders, walked closer to Christine and the tunnel.
"I don't have happy memories of this place," he said suddenly, casting a glance back over his shoulder. "In some ways, I should be grateful for the opportunity to remove myself from it."
Christine didn't know how to respond, and simply looked at him as he gazed across the lake, lost in some thought. As if struck with sudden inspiration, he strode across the shore and heaved the boat inland, dragging it behind the organ and draping it with some of the excess cloth. Turning away, he began to walk back to Christine, then stopped, looking at something slightly behind her to her left.
Puzzled, she turned and searched for whatever might have caught his interest. Nothing jumped immediately to mind, but when Erik approached the wide, drawn velvet curtain, she suddenly understood.
"The mannequin," she muttered, a little horrified, a little wondrous at the thought of Erik dragging the doll bodily to the carriage and setting it up in some cobwebbed corner of her father's tomb.
"The dress," Erik called in response, and Christine's eyes widened further. He was taking the wedding dress- the dress with so many connotations and vaguely frightening (or thrilling) hints.
She didn't know whether she wanted to see the doll which had so overwhelmed her upon her first visit to Erik's home. All she could remember were two glassy eyes set so familiarly in a glassy expression, all cold and terrifying and her…
Curiosity overcame her trepidation, however, and Christine moved around so she could easily see the full curtain. Erik had been standing there, hand paused on the drape, uneasy and doubtlessly remembering the reaction his creation had received on the previous occasion.
"Open it," Christine encouraged softly. Her eyes were fixed gingerly upon the curtain, and she felt a little breathless in anticipation of seeing that mannequin again. Erik turned from the curtain, a fold still clutched within his hand, and his eyes found hers. He held her gaze for one wary moment, then slowly turned back and swept it strongly aside.
Christine gasped- she couldn't help it. It was her, her face, her body, motionless and pale and vaguely, sickeningly waxy. But it was beautiful. After that first shock, Christine felt herself calm quickly. After all, she had seen it before, and what intrigued her more at this moment was the way Erik was staring at her now, sizing up her reaction. She ripped her eyes from the glassy, unblinking gaze of her lifeless image and focussed on Erik. She forced her lips into a small smile.
"It's a lovely dress, isn't it?"
Erik bowed his head at her words, obviously relieved by her light response, then straightened himself, turning and beginning to undress the doll quite roughly.
Christine blushed hotly; she couldn't help herself. It was just so easy to imagine Erik removing the clothes from a very alive version of the doll. And he was doing it so casually! She clutched a hand to her red face in despair, hoping that Erik wouldn't turn around until she was able to collect herself.
When he had finally tugged the unfastened dress successfully over the doll's head, Christine only moved her hand from her cheek to her mouth with new shock. Erik had not stopped at the bridal gown, oh no. She wasn't entirely sure, but she could have sworn that some of the remaining lace covering the otherwise naked doll resembled, well, lingerie!
Possibly remembering this fact himself, Erik quickly flung the curtain back so that the doll was hidden once more. Hopefully for good, Christine thought, extremely mortified at the thought of such a mannequin being discovered by the Inspector.
Dress held safely within his arms, Erik turned and walked back towards Christine, deliberately keeping his eyes away from her face. Christine was quite happy with this arrangement; she still felt flushed and strangely giggly. As he placed the dress into a remaining bag, Christine combed her fingers through her hair, making the most of the useful curtain her curls created. Once she felt she had calmed herself sufficiently, she tilted her head back and allowed her hair to fall down her back.
It seemed Erik had been waiting for her, and once she had finished he set off down the tunnel immediately. Christine followed silently, but not before sweeping the lonely cavern with one last bittersweet gaze.
When the couple finally broke free into the fading light of late afternoon, no time was wasted. The carriage made its swift journey to the cemetery without delay, and without interference from the Inspector, something which Christine was silently grateful for. Madame Giry took the reigns while Christine sat with Erik behind her, shielded slightly by the mountain of belongings surrounding them.
Once Christine had checked the graveyard for visitors, she pulled the heavy gates open, wincing with every creak. It was difficult to direct the carriage safely down the path to the Daaé tomb but finally it was done, and with a small time of daylight to spare.
Madame Giry remained outside with Cesar and the carriage while Christine and Erik approached the mausoleum. Christine felt her heart grow heavier in her chest with every step they climbed.
They fell silently sombre as Christine opened the tomb and lit a candle. She watched as Erik walked reverently inside, back and shoulders straight. It made things less awful, somehow, to see that her father was still respected, even if he had to share his resting place with another man.
"Don't- don't be too lonely," she whispered sadly, and looked up into Erik's steady gaze as he gingerly laid a comforting hand on her arm.
"I am quite used to it," he said quietly, seeming to gain strength from the small hand she placed over his. Christine glanced down to her feet, saddened to the point of tears at the thought of her angel whiling away the long and empty hours in a cemetery.
"You won't be here for long," she said with as much determination as she could muster, trying to comfort herself with the words.
"I will be here for as long as I need to be," he said firmly. Christine felt later, as she sat in the carriage, tears blurring her vision, that it was there, in the cold, dark tomb of her father, that Erik had seemed more strong and self-reassured than she had ever seen him before. And that made her feel much better.
A/N: I liked this chapter. Some of it seemed rather disconnected from the main plot, like the doll and the dress, but I felt that it provided another connection between this story and the original. Besides, some things are just nice and easy to write. That's important. And the same things are often good ways to lighten the tone of the story a little.
Sorry this chapter wasn't nearly as long as the last; I think we're all going to have to learn to expect that due to scarily near exams. At least they're regular, eh:)
Thanks to all my reviewers! It really provides motivation for me. I mean, I enjoy writing the story, obviously, but sometimes it's a little difficult to actually approach the old laptop and remember the plot.
-Froody