Me *entering home with my bad weitghing a ton followed by Meg and Christin wearing modern gymwear*: Oh boy! Ballet is a killer.
Meg: Just the first years, then it sinks in.
Christine: She's right though. One more pliet and I would have screamed!
Erik: How are my gir... *looks at me in shock* What happened to your hair?
Raoul: Stop bothering the girl. It's just an hair cut. Which looks amazing by the way.
Erik: No one talked to you fop? Why would you do such a thing?
Raoul: It's both fashionable and practic for college.
Erik: And since when is Viviane a slave of fashion?
Me: Not a slave of fashion. A slave of college. I have no time to make prestine curls every morning...
So yes... college as begun for me at last, after some much needed holidays. I'm doing my best to keep up with everything so I can't say how long it will take me to post another chapter. I intend to do it next week and start writing small chapters so I can post more often.
Love you guys. Enjoy and review.
P.S: I own nothing
Roxanne was arranging some paper work for the next season when she heard someone knocking at the door.
Her quarters at the opera house where far from being home and Roxanne really intended to only sleep there when the rehearsals ran too late for her to feel safe walking home, so it still looked sterile, unconquered, more like an office. In fact the room even had, beside the usual furniture belonging to a room, a small writing table behind which Roxanne was seating now.
"Come in." Called out the ballet mistress without looking up from the papers, as another knock resounded through the room.
On the other side of the door Angelo turned the door knob and popped his head through the door noticing how focused Roxanne was in her job to even notice him. Looking to not disturb her he tried to make no noise as he entered, but his cane hit the door-frame causing a dry knock to invade the room and call upon Roxanne's attention.
"What are you doing here?" Roxanne asked getting up slowly, yet never leaving Angelo's gaze.
"Roxanne…" Angelo stammered bringing his cane to rest before him. Her voice wasn't harsh with him like it used to be when she was annoyed, nor was it the sweet tender sound she used to have in her voice back in France, just for him.
"Angelo I need to work, so what do you want?" she pressed on leaning back on the writing table.
"I'm not going to be polite about this, I've lived most of my life in misery since I was forced to leave you, and so I must know. Is that heart of yours able of feeling anything for me, besides hate?" Angelo asked looking straight into her eyes only to see shock, but slowly her shock turned into rage and frustration.
"You lived in misery since you were forced to leave?! What about what I suffered? I gave you everything and once things were getting serious you left cowardly!" Roxanne almost shouted in her rage. "Not even a note with some poor excuse. Thankfully César was kind enough to look me out and tell me the truth."
"He told you the truth didn't he? Did your dear César told how he managed to get me out of your life? How he so cleverly manage to fire me from the opera? How he got me to return to Italy? Did he told you about his dirty scheme to get you into his bed?" Angelo argued back looking fiercely into her eyes. "Obviously not. You are a smart woman Roxanne. If he had told you the truth, you would not be wearing that wedding-band with his name engraved in it!"
"No! If you truly loved me I would be wearing your wedding-band! I loved you Angelo! I truly loved you. With all that I am I loved you!" She answered standing straight and looking away from him. "And damn it, I still do, but I won't let you tarnish the memory of the man I call husband for seven years, the father of my child!"
"I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted to leave. I had plans for us, for life. I wanted to marry you, to be a father to your children. I wanted us to grow old together." Angelo confessed coming close to Roxanne and touching her arms gently. "I'm not doing this because I'm cruel. I'm doing this because I love you and you deserve the truth. In fact I did not know of César's involvement until I read this." He stepped away from her and removed a small book from his pocket. "You left it at Julia's house. I only realised what it was after I started reading. Once I read your name I couldn't stop. Forgive me." Then he placed the small book on the writing-table and left the room.
Roxanne didn't dare to move until the door of her quarters closed with a thud, then she looked over to her writing table and to that little black book. Her mind was burning was burning with curiosity, he heart was dreading what that note book had written in it. Her hand was shaking as she reach for it and opened it revealing her late-husbands hand writing.
At first it all seemed rubbish. Random dates, random places, random women, one or two mentions to the Populaire Opera house, to ballet, but then her name appeared. Her name seemed to be everywhere, like some billboard on the street announcing some famous opera. Roxanne was so stunned that she had to seat down, somewhere… anywhere… her bed.
She took a deep breath and continued reading. There were pages and pages about their dancing together. It was only understandable. Back then she and César were dancing partners, friends even, but she was in love with Angelo…
God! Did she even dare to read more? This could set everything right. All those years wondering what had happened between her and Angelo could be put to an end if she just had the heart to finish reading that journal. No, Roxanne had no heart to do it, not alone at least.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Early in the morning, Raoul was having breakfast at the hotel when he saw Christine coming in. She looked different with a new spring in her step, a healthy rosy tone to her cheeks and her eyes where shinning like stars. After these days without news, Raoul was starting to pounder leaving America once and for all, to leave her to her new life with this man that seemed to be rebuilding himself from scratch, but now here she was like they had agreed to do once she talked to the Phantom.
As she entered the dining room, Christine looked around for Raoul and went to his table seeing him get up. Erik had hid nothing about Nadir's watches from her, so she wasn't surprised to see him worried and looking exhausted. The poor man had to be driving himself mad over the eminent reunion with a man he hated or used to hate.
Raoul behaved like a gentleman, pulling the chair before him for Christine to seat and then he sat on the other side of the table facing her with a tired smile on his face.
"Can I offer you breakfast?" Raoul asked warmly, almost as a concerned brother.
"Yes, thank you. I ate at home, but I seem to be famished these days." Christine confessed with a smile as she unfold the napkin upon her knees.
"Doesn't he feed you?" Raoul asked gesturing to a footman.
"Oh he feeds me, Raoul. Erik takes care of me really well, but there are certain things a woman in my condition can't control." She answered with a dreamy air about her and Raoul looked at her confused, not really grasping her meaning.
"So his name is Erik?" The Vicomte inquired with and arched eyebrow.
"You have to admit it." Christine told him cheerfully. "It suits him. Erik Francois Chevalier… It has a certain ring to it."
"I think that it's extremely ironic." Raoul commented with an amused smile and Christine laughed. Damn! She looked so different. He had never seen her so happy before. Not with him, not in Paris. That smile belonged to her time of her father, to the stage, and now to this man. It was almost too hard to believe that the same man that had brought her so much fear was now the cause of that beautiful, sincere opened smile.
Before Christine could answer the footman approached them and Raoul ordered the same breakfast he had ordered for himself before she arrived.
"Coffee?" Raoul asked looking at Christine.
"Green tea, please." The soprano answered looking at the footman. All that distance and awkwardness between people that only had a tittle or some kind of stupid status to make them different before society, had always been maddening for her. She would never have been a good…
"You would never have been a good Vicomtesse." He told her breaking her off her chain of thought. "You don't look down on anyone."
"I'll just take that as a complement." And for a moment her smile vanished as her mind and her heart went to Erik and the night before. Before she had fallen asleep in his arms Christine had been able to listen to what he had said about her being a forgiving angel, far too good to ever be real.
"What is it?" Raoul asked reaching forward and touching her hand.
"I was just thinking about something that Erik said last night. He thinks I'm too good to be true." She answered looking at her engagement right.
"For once O.G is quite right. I still can't believe that you were able to forgive me so soon." The man confessed rubbing the back of her and gently.
"Forgiven, yes, but not forgotten." Christine answered removing her hand from beneath his. "I'm to take you to Erik so the two of you can talk. Please don't make regret trusting in you."
"What are the rules?"
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Julia was lying on the chaise-long with a book on her hands, reading-glasses resting on her and her arm resting languidly above her head. She leaned he head back and sighed happily as romantics thoughts invaded her mind, driven by the book in her hands. Every day, between or before rehearsals, Julia would take some time for herself, relax, put her mind on the right set, and maybe read a little, most of the time not exactly on that order.
Julia loved her work, even if she worked like a lunatic to sound every night, exhausted or not, like a damnable Goddess of Song, but in truth she was a little library rat. She loved reading and books. She really read anything, most of all she liked daring romances and mystery books, but the book in her hands now was more for the sake of research. She was reading the original, by William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet. It was fun to see the play, or the opera, or to be a part of it but one thing she had to admit the words were like lovemaking.
A knock at the door distracted Julia from her chain of thought and a panicked voice made itself heard before she could answer.
"Lia are you in there? I need you" That voice and that pet name were far too familiar for Julia to ignore. Forgetting to remove her glasses, Julia bolted up and went to get the door only to have her friend Roxanne fall onto her arms.
"Annie, what happened? " Julia asked bringing Roxanne in and closing the door. "You seem flustered."
"Lia… my life is a mess." Roxanne whined seating on the chaise-long.
"You are forty, you have two wonderful daughters, and you are at the pick of your career as a teacher and choreographer. True you are a widow, so am I but if you look around you know you have a very handsome Italian crawling at your feet…"
"That very handsome Italian I the exact same reason that brought me here." Roxanne protested getting up. She really did not know what to do with herself so she just started passing. "That all so handsome, all so dear brother of yours came into my living quarters and brought this to my attention." She was wagging the journal in her hand when Julia passed by her and snatched it.
"What's this?" Julia inquired thumbing the book looking at the unfamiliar handwriting.
"César's journal. I seem to have left it in your home and Angelo took hold of it." Roxanne answered with a sigh. "He told me that César had a plan to get rid of him and that the proof was somewhere in that book."
"So what are you waiting for?" Julia asked gapping at her friend.
"Lia I was married to that man for seven years, he's Meg's father. He was my rock when Angelo left…"
"Or was forced to leave." Julia cut in still browsing the book.
"What I mean is that if I continue to read this and find out that your brother was right… I'll be proving that my life has been a lie." Roxanne explained forcing Julia to look up from the journal. "My daughter thinks that I had a mad romance with her father. I was found of him, that's true enough, but I used him to keep my mind of your brother and when he died I was a wreck. He was good to me. I can't tarnish the memory of her father by turning him in a loveless, wanton villain."
"Annie, César was a good man and a wonderful dancer, but the heart has reasons that reason knows not." The soprano told her looking right into her eyes. "Perhaps it wasn't all a lie. Perhaps he did what Angelo says, but his love wasn't a lie. He may have regretted his actions in the end."
"That's a lot of perhaps, Lia. I want to put my mind to rest but I can't do it alone." Roxanne confessed taking Julia's hands in her own. "I need my friend beside me."
"Relax, now I'm here for you. We read this together and then get drunk. Either way one of us will be suffering after this." Julia said bringing Roxanne to seat on the chaise-long and opening the book.
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Erik was feeling like a nervous wreck when he sat at the piano to warm up before the lunch shift. He started to play scales as his mind drifted to Christine and their imminent meeting with Raoul. Argh! He hated the little man and his all so amazing, so imposing title, but he had promised Christine that he would be at least civil with the boy and that was what he intended to do.
His fingers rested upon the ivory keys for a moment or two. This was worse then what he had expected. It was all happening again… all over again. The demon, his mother's creation, was once again seating upon his shoulders, doing what it did best, taunting him back into insanity.
"Jack!" Erik called looking over to the bar.
"Yes Erik! Do you need something?" one of the waiters came close to him with a tray in his hands.
"Get me something that will numb me." Erik told him looking back to his hands.
"You know that goes against your first rule." The man reminded Erik and he gave him a frustrated groan.
"I know, I know. Just do as I asked. Give me a glass of wine and write it down so it maybe remove from my salary." The older man answered running his fingers through his hair.
"Fine, but make it last. We need you with your wits about you." Jack told him resting a friendly hand upon his shoulder. "Lunch is the busiest time of the day and everything seems to go smoothly when you play that piano of yours."
Erik looked over his shoulder and saw the younger man go to the bar and return with a large glass of wine and placing it upon the piano. Without thinking twice, Erik took the glass and sipped from it, only then did he allowed himself to immerse in the music, keeping it in check so it would not become too haunting.
Soon the music was surrounding him filling his soul with such sweet sorrow as his thoughts went to Christine. He should have sent someone with her, to protect her, to make sure… No he would be controlling, he would not make Christine regret her decision of choosing him, of trusting in him.
Just like that the tune changed for some time only to be back in its place the next moment and nobody noticed. Well a certain woman that knew the pianist far too well, took notice and smiled as she came into the restaurant and signalled one of the waiters. She started scribbling on a small notebook Erik had advised her to always bring in the small purse she always carried with her.
"Give this to the pianist." She told the waiter as he came to her side. Seeing the man's confusion, she offered a mischievous smile and continued "Tell him that it's from his wife."
The waiter just nodded and made his way to the man seating at the piano. He taped on his shoulder breaking Erik from his concentration, even if not from his music, and placed de note next to his glass.
"The lady in the back of the room gave me this. She says it's from your wife." The waiter told Erik, who looked at him a little confused until it hit him and he looked to Christine over his shoulder.
"Thank you." The pianist answered giving his music a rushed end and taking the note in his hands with another sip of wine. He opened the note and smiled easily recognising the handwriting.
"Darling,
Came to hear you play. I've agreed to meet Raoul at the train station and bring him here. We need to talk after the lunch shift.
I love you.
Christine"
Erik looked once again over to Christine and nodded, quietly returning to his music. Christine loved to hear him play for, if Erik said her eyes mirrored her soul in perfection, his music was like the ocean of emotions he kept inside him. The music brought tears to her eyes, not for his melancholic hews, nor the never ending praise of their love, but because he still doubted himself being worthy of her love, of a normal life, when she was all too willing to give him all that. She could sense fear as well. Fear that she had to make the man she loved talk about.
And then it hit her like a ton of bricks as her heart was wrapped with hope for the future in his music. The understanding way be had behaved the previous night… the way the he controlled his temper… Christine had broken his heart and he had made everything in his power to not make her suffer any more than she had already put herself through, even it was only because she was expecting his children. He deserved so much more from her…
"Darling, you're crying." She heard a familiar voice say. Christine hadn't realised that she was caught up into her thoughts that she hadn't realised the hours go by and the music stop. She looked up to him and took the handkerchief he was offering her.
"It's a good thing you only use mascara on stage." He told her trying to make it light.
"Or when I go out. Hopefully I don't look much of a mess." Christine answered giving him a half-smile as he sat on the chair beside her. Erik caressed her cheek lovingly and smiled.
"No, you don't my sweet. I take it you haven't had yet lunch, so go freshen up and I'll get us some lunch." Erik told her getting up only to be pulled down by Christine's hand on his arm.
"Erik we need to talk. About us and about something else." She told him holding his hand.
"I can't fathom what may be." he just said looking deep into her eyes and seductively playing with as stray lock of her hair.
"Why did you hide how you felt about all this?" Christine asked him looking down as she played with the sleeve of his shirt. "I'm completely yours, beloved. You have me, body and soul. There's no doubt about it and as far as I'm concerned I'm already married to you, but you said we would be partners in life. Partners tell things to each other."
"Christine, you are pregnant." He recalled her gently as his heart broke inside his chest for her.
"Don't hide from me. Don't use my pregnancy as excuse to do so. I just want to be there for you every waking moment, to share your nights and save you from the demons that haunt you." She argued with pleading eyes. "And my relation with Raoul haunts you. I could hear it, I could feel it in your music."
"Christine, I can't burthen you with my fears and doubts…" Erik said before she cut him off.
"You can and you must so I can know that this thing between us is about you feeling unworthy or about you doubting my love for you." She told him almost impatiently. "And don't tell me that there is no different, because there is and a big one."
"I wasn't going to say that. I, however, was going to say that I can't burthen you with my fears and doubts, because I can't stand to see you suffer." He told her with sincerity burning in his eyes. "You are fragile right now, so please let do what a good husband would do and spare you. You asked me to be your rock, my darling girl. Let me do just that."
Christine leaned back on her chair and sighed, realising that there would be no way to sway him to confide on her more than it was necessary at the time. She leaned onto to him and pecked his cheek lovingly. Erik could be a very stubborn man when he set his mind to it, but she loved him regardless.
"Fine! If you must… Just don't keep your emotions out of your music, even if the music turns heartbreakingly beautiful." She asked him bringing her arms around his waist. "Promise?"
"I promise, my sweet. Not even I can keep it all in." Erik told her with that gentle, loving smile Christine had gotten used to. "After all I'm an emotional walking bomb, if you are recalled." Christine couldn't help but laugh at her fiancé's witty remark. It clearly was a warning that was much as he tried to control himself, for her sake even if for nothing else, he had still that volcanic temper, always ready to get the best of him.
"And I intend to be there every time the bomb goes off." She told him as she got up. "Now could you be a good husband and get us some food while I freshen up? I think I could eat a horse." Erik simply smile as a rumble in his chest revealed an amused laughter that Christine answered with a tired smile of her own.