CHAPTER 29
Gerry had never felt more awkward. At the moment, he was having to physically hold down Christine so she wouldn't get up to do another 'performance' in the aisle—which was a very amusing Carlotta imitation. He also had to keep one hand over her mouth so as to muffle her singing (which, in her mixed drug and alcohol induced state, actually resembled the sound of a feline being strangled.) If the people around him hadn't been witness to her attempt at intoxicated opera, they might think she was being attacked. But as it was, they were glad to have Gerry restraining her.
"MmmMMPH!"
"Behave and I'll let go," he hissed quietly. For a moment, she just glared at him in silence. Just when he was about to remove his hand from her mouth, she bit him.
"Ow!"
He jerked his hand back and she laughed. He glared at her. She just gave him a woozy grin.
"I can not wait until I get off this damn plane…" he muttered. Giggling, she leaned her head on his shoulder.
"Did I huurrt youuu..?" she slurred.
"No."
She started petting his hair like he was some sort of dog.
"Poor, pooooorrr, Gerrrrrryyy…"
"Stop that!"
Is this what I was like when I was always hammered? He wondered silently, then decided he couldn't possibly be this bad. Plus, he hadn't taken pills too.
Christine was now attempting to climb inside his shirt. This he couldn't exactly complain about, aside from the old lady watching in amusement from across the aisle. He gave her an apologetic smile and pushed Christine off him.
"Don't be so rough, Erik…" she pouted.
"I'm not Erik," sighed Gerry with annoyance. She looked at him hard, as if trying to figure out a puzzle, then jumped back with a gasp.
"You fixed it!"
He raised a brow and dully asked, "Fixed what?"
She just pointed at his face with a wide eyed expression of awe and delight. Rolling his eyes, he looked away again, just waiting for it to be over. Then he felt her little arms wrap around him with her face buried in the crook of his neck. Christine was not to be ignored.
Her voice muffled against him, Christine drowsily asked, "Gerrrry…have you ever killed anyone…?"
He made a face. "Er…no. Not that I can remember."
"Ohhh…that's good…"
Chuckling a little, he replied, "Yeah, it's a small sort of accomplishment, I guess."
At this, she made an odd little noise similar to a purr. At this point, it was hardly surprising. Christine fell asleep in this position, practically sprawled on Gerry, and frankly, he couldn't say he could complain about it—aside from the fact that sleeping on the break room floor had been more comfortable than even first class airplane seats.
/
One does not simply find Erik. Erik finds you. And he does so with flair.
In this particular instance, he decided to leap from the rafters, cape stretched out like wings, and land on his feet directly in front of Emmy and Nadir, who were calmly walking backstage looking for him.
"Oh my God. It's Batman," Emmy drolled. Nadir gave her a strange look. Erik had to think a bit before remembering the reference from her time, then huffed, feeling insulted.
"What are you scheming, Erik?" Nadir demanded. Erik raised a brow in confusion at him.
"Not that it's any of your business, but I'm actually not planning anything."
"Raoul said you looked far too happy to not be," Emmy quipped, snorting a little. At the name, Erik grimaced.
"If he's referring to when I passed him and little Giry, that is only because I can see what is going on."
Nadir seemed clueless but Emmy frowned, knowing what he meant.
"What's going on?" asked Khan. Erik rolled his eyes.
"Isn't it obvious? Now that Christine isn't here and he doesn't seem particularly fond of her…" he trailed off, looking at Emmy. "The ballet girl is taking advantage of the situation."
"Meaning…?"
Emmy sighed and blurted, "He means that Raoul and Meg are forming a romantic relationship, Nadir!"
"Oh…but..How do you know? They were just talking. I think you are confusing your hopes with reality, Erik…"
Giving him an annoyed look, Erik snapped, "I'm not confused at all. I think after living here for twenty years and bearing witness to nonstop frivolous backstage relationships-most of which concerning silly ballet rats such as the Giry girl—would be enough of an education to tell when such a relationship is forming."
Nadir blinked then sighed and shrugged, not bothering to argue with him anymore. But Emmy needed more information.
Crossing her arms, she asked coolly, "So why is this good to you?"
Erik looked at her as if it was the stupidest question he'd ever heard. "I hate the man more than anyone else."
"Yes, so why are you happy to see him happy with someone else."
"Because he's not in my way anymore!" he said, exasperated.
"In your way to getting…?"
He hesitated. Now he could see where this was going.
What's the right answer? Didn't she say I should know Christine better if I was ever to have hope of earning her love? Didn't she want me to be with Christine? But then…then that dare…it was so bold. She wanted me to kiss her. But why? And why was she so upset about my comment earlier? Dear God, it can't be…
Swallowing nervously, he glanced at Nadir. "Will you excuse us?"
Khan nodded and gave a short bow before obediently leaving the backstage area. Erik fixed his eyes back on Emmy.
"It's because I never wanted to see him again, and surely, with Meg, he would be a much less frequent visitor. It wasn't because of Christine, because I'm fairly sure she's enraptured with your Gerry by now, and won't wish to return even for her precious Vicomte, and it wasn't because of you, because Chagny hasn't shown any interest in you whatsoever thus far. There. Are you satisfied?"
Emmy stared at him blankly, not knowing how to feel, let alone what to say. Flustered, he continued.
"You know I hardly have any experience whatsoever with women in general, let alone ones from a bloody different dimension, so I can't read your mind! Please, just…What do you WANT?"
At first she was insulted, but then she looked away, biting her lip. Honestly, she didn't know the answer to that question. And she was sure he didn't know what he wanted either. What a predicament to be in.
/
"Christine, wake up…we're here," Gerry said quietly, nudging Christine off his shoulder (which had gone numb by now.) She barely opened her eyes, then groaned and held her head in both hands.
"It hurts…"
"What does?"
"The light!"
Gerry sighed and stood, pulling her to her feet. She tried to fall back in the seat. He held her up and looked into her half closed eyes, speaking to her like a child. "If you come with me, you'll get to see the Statue of Liberty."
As expected, Christine smiled like an excited little girl and followed him eagerly.
"I really hope this wears off before we find your mother…" he muttered to himself as he lead her through the airport, struggling with carrying both of their luggage and making sure she didn't leave his sight.
"My mother?" she asked, confused.
"Emmy's mother, rather," he corrected himself, then stopped and looked at her. "You remember that you're Emmy now, don't you?"
She furrowed her brows. "Of course I do," she snapped in such a clear American accent that he could believe she was Emmy.
"Fantastic. Now, just ignore the fact that you're drugged up and we should be good!"
Christine's staggered a bit when she walked and her mind was still slightly swimming. Every so often she saw double, but otherwise, if she really, really focused, she could think reasonably.
"Emmy!"
Gerry groaned to himself at the female voice, which he didn't recognize but was sure was the Rossum matriarch.
