I sadly don't own the Phantom or any other characters created by G. Leroux, S. Kay and A. L. Webber, but they always have a place in my heart. Thanks Luthien for your help!
TALKS AND MUSIC
Joséphine spent the morning in her rooms, brooding over the previous events. The way their night together had turned out, she was glad she had not confessed her feelings to Erik. He still seemed to be too attached to this singer to even consider a relationship with her that progressed further than a few amicable conversations and a few heated kisses and caresses.
That morning, she had been willing to throw her promise not to engage him further until he committed himself fully to her in the wind, her desire for him taking over. Being in his arms, feeling his body so close to hers had been the most exhilarating experience she had ever had, and the sudden ending hurt her more than she was willing to admit.
Finally, at around eleven, she was unwilling to dwell on it any further for the moment, rose and dressed herself, then walked to the servants' quarters to check up on Mathilde.
Knocking gently on Mathilde's door, she entered after hearing her friend's permission.
Mathilde lay in her bed in the room she shared with one of the cooks, her body propped up on pillows. She still looked pale and exhausted, and Joséphine felt a stab of guilt that her friend had to suffer because of her.
"How are you faring?" Joséphine asked, taking a chair from the corner to sit by the bed.
"Better than yesterday. Clementine's stomach-calming soups make me want to be getting better as soon as possible. I know she makes them to help me, but I swear if I have to take another spoonful of that awful broth I'll throw the bowl at her," Mathilde explained, her voice still a bit hoarse from sickness.
It was Clementine that had overseen the servant's dinner preparation the night before Mathilde had fallen ill and she felt somewhat guilty that her roommate had suffered a food poisoning. But the head cook, Madame Rousseau had reassured her that nothing had been wrong with the food, or others would have fallen ill as well.
Joséphine had to smile at the outburst; Clementine was a wonderful cook, and for Mathilde to refuse something she had made it really had to taste horrendous.
"She's only trying to help you."
"I know," Mathilde replied, "still, I don't have to like my diet."
"Mathilde, I…" taking her friend's hand, Joséphine pondered about how best to tell her the cause of her illness.
Feeling suddenly overwhelmed by everything that had happened in the last days, Joséphine broke down in tears.
"This is all my fault," she choked out.
"What are you talking about?" Mathilde asked, confused.
"You being sick," Joséphine explained. Mathilde looked at her, clearly puzzled, but sat up straighter to listen to her friend. "Clara is responsible for your food poisoning; she wanted to replace you to get more information on me and Erik."
Mathilde's eyes widened. "You can't be serious," she said, nodding her head, but the look in her friend's eyes told her otherwise. "Oh my God!"
"The girl that replaced you, she was supposed to find out if I was already pregnant." She paused for a moment, pondering if she should tell her friend that Erik and she had not yet consummated their marriage, but then thought it too risky; she could not dare being overheard.
"Are you?" Mathilde intercepted her.
"No," Joséphine replied, a sly smile on her face. "But that morning, she caught us still in bed and Erik threw her out. It was a quite awkward situation." Taking a deep breath, she carried on. "Erik thinks that Clara is up to something, and that you were just the first pawn in her game."
"But what could she do? She cannot possibly think of doing you any harm?" Mathilde asked, concerned.
"I don't think so," Joséphine replied. "But you know how she is with manipulating people. What if she somehow manages to break Erik and me apart?"
"I can't imagine how," Mathilde said.
"Well, after Fanny surprised us this morning, we had a fight about the one big issue standing between us."
"His scars?" Mathilde asked, remembering what Joséphine had told her one day.
Joséphine nodded, remembering in time that she had never told her friend about Christine, only about the troubles he had because of his disfigurement.
"Apparently he needs more time still to realise what he has with you. But I am sure that everything will work out." She squeezed her friend's hand, comforting her. "And not even a vile serpent such as Clara will be able to move you apart."
Joséphine had to smile at the passionate declaration. "Thank you so much Mathilde, that reassurance was what I needed." She bent down to embrace her. "I am so glad we became friends."
"It is definitely better than having an employer one does not like," Mathilde replied, smirking.
"Oh you..."
Very much like his wife, Erik had spent the morning thinking of their current situation. He felt remorse for having denied his wife, the one woman who so clearly wanted him, but he could not undo what had transpired.
He had hurt her more than he had thought he would by rejecting her this morning. But still, he felt it was the right thing to do. So much had changed since the night of 'Don Juan Triumphant', and he simply had to be sure he would not return to his old ways as soon as he set eyes on Christine again. But if his feelings for his former pupil did indeed return full force, Joséphine would be far better off if they had never experienced that kind of intimacy together.
At least that was what he told himself over and over again.
Deciding that music would help him, he went down and sat on the piano and began to play. Notes turned into melodies, soothing him, and soon all but the music surrounding him was tuned out while he let all his feelings pour down through his hands.
The melody started slowly, with a tinge of sadness to it. It was a variation of 'The Point Of No Return', something he had written what felt like a lifetime ago now. Soon though, it developed into a different tune, his fingers starting to fly over the keys. Before he knew it, words joined the music.
I lived my life in shadow
Never the sun on my face.
It didn't seem so sad, though
I figured that was my place.
Now I'm bathed in light
Something just isn't right.
Joséphine, I'll send you all my love,
And every step I'll take now
I'll take for you,
My Joséphine.
A life without meaning
I was walking away,
In the coldest of winters
Night becomes a day.
One love lost,
Another has grown.
Joséphine, I'll send you all my love,
And every single step that I'll take now
I'll take for you,
My Joséphine.
You saw the man,
Not the mask
And that's more
Than I could ever ask.
Joséphine, I'll send you all my love,
And every single step that I'll take now
I'll take for you,
My Joséphine, I'll send you all my love.*
Erik continued repeating the melody, humming along with it, and now and then singing the words.
Outside of the music room, whose door was left slightly ajar, stood Joséphine, tears streaking down her face. She had never heard him sing before, and she could not remember ever having heard a voice such as his. And hearing her name come from his lips when he sang…it was wonderful.
In her hand she clutched a piece of paper, an invitation sent out by the Chagnys who had returned prematurely from their honeymoon and were to hold a ball at their estate Saturday this weekend.
When she had read the note, she was still mad at him for abandoning her this morning, and for a while she had contemplated keeping it from him, but hearing him sing had changed her mind.
She knew that the confrontation had to come sooner or later, and she knew it made no sense to draw it out any longer now. They would go to the ball and either return home together, or it would be the last time she saw the man she had come to know and fallen in love with. The decision was his alone.
She sincerely hoped he would choose her.
Stilling her trembling hands, she rapped shortly on the door and strode in to tell him.
* A/N: The song is a mixture of 'I'm Under Your Spell' from Buffy's 'Once More With Feeling' Episode, 'Josephine' by Chris Rea and my own imagination. Critics (good or bad) welcome.
