Finals are finally over, and updates should be fairly regular. Thank you for all your kind words. I'll try to do more review replies this time around. There are some anonymous reviewers who I also love to hear from but that I can't send a reply to. Thank you as well. I appreciate all of them.
Read and Review!
Their days followed a pattern that she'd come to enjoy. After the utter uncertainty and terror of the last few months, predictability was welcome. Erik brought her whatever form of entertainment was available. During the daytime, she'd either read or listen to music, and on the nicer days she'd go outside.
Deep down, she knew that they couldn't exist like this forever. Her hope was that someday they wouldn't have to hide, that someday, even if only at night, she could walk with Erik down the street or sit beside him at the theater. She wondered if he'd ever been to the opera. She'd gone in Chicago several times and had enjoyed every second of the experience.
Or was she indulging in childish fantasies of happily-ever-after? She asked herself this question and was never sure of the answer. Could they ever live without fear?
Every night, they went out together and immersed themselves in music, abandoning the rest of the bleak world for several hours. They sat close, their fingers sometimes entwined or their shoulders touching. She would often kiss him atop his head before bed each night, although she never brought up the mask. Erik remained even-tempered for the most part, and they avoided topics of the past.
On that particular night, about three weeks into their stay, they sang a duet from Otello. It was the first time that they sang the song all the way through, and she was nearly breathless when they finished. Her mind was lost within his divine voice, and her singing seemed to come without concentration. A tear streamed down her cheek as they finished, for she knew well how that story ended. And she knew that the ending to this story was far from certain.
She reached out and brushed the right side of his masked face with her fingers, staring into the golden stars with her chin tilted upwards. Erik sighed and turned his head away, and she saw a shudder run through him. "Erik?"
"If you would close your eyes…" He let the unfinished sentence disintegrate into the breeze.
Christine started to tell him that she didn't need to close her eyes but thought better of it. "All right," she whispered, her heartbeat quickening. She obediently shut her lids, immediately feeling him place an icy hand over her eyes in recognition of her possible intentions. He had good reason not to trust her, she supposed. A silence passed, and she swallowed in anticipation. In a split second, he had placed a kiss upon her cheek and drawn back, his hand still covering her closed lids. "Erik." A touch of frustration found its way into her voice. "Please."
Reaching out a hand, she found the side of his head and used it to guide her in the right direction. He was unresponsive as she leaned forward and pressed her mouth against his. The sensation was strange at first; his lips were dry, cold, and shaped unevenly. Tilting her head, she slowly became more comfortable, focusing on the narrower side of his twisted mouth. He was motionless, save for an occasional tremble. At some point, his hand finally fell away from her eyes. With one hand at the side of his temple and the other resting on his shoulder, she remained there for several seconds, unrelenting and determined.
Finally, she drew back with a deep breath. Then, she opened her eyes, knowing full well that the mask would still not be replaced. Her stomach jumped two times. Erik sat there staring at her; two yellow lights were beaming from one eye socket and a mound of unshaped flesh. It was difficult to read his expression on the deformed features, but she guessed it to be a 'blank face.' As she attempted to suppress all waves of nausea, Christine realized that she was in control of this moment. Whatever happened at that point would be based on her reaction. She leaned forward and quickly kissed the left corner of his poor mouth, her stomach continuing its staccato dance.
The skin was sallow and had a faint but unpleasant odor that came from being imprisoned behind the walls of porcelain. Still, she gently kissed him with her eyes wide open. Feeling dizzy, she finally turned away and hugged him, pressing her cheek against his shoulder as a cold sweat formed on her forehead. Erik was shaking beneath her arms, his breath weak and unsteady. It took nearly a minute for him to gather himself together. Then, he quickly replaced the mask and embraced her with a soft, "Oh!"
They stayed silently in that position for some time, and she slowly caught her breath. "If we do this sometimes, we'll be fine," she whispered. She ran a hand through his sparse hair. "If you'll let me see sometimes, it won't matter anymore. I promise." Erik didn't answer, but she thought that she felt him nod once.
"Are you ill?" he asked after another moment, running a hand over her hair.
"No. Just a little tired."
"You should sleep now," he stated, releasing her. She nodded and stood up to wait for him. "I will be inside in a moment. You go."
"All right, Erik. Goodnight." Christine smiled, feeling a vague relief overtake her. She had not ruined the evening. She was not too weak. And she still loved him.
He was quieter the following day, although they stayed in each other's company. Erik gave her a wary glance when she first came out of the bedroom, and she hoped that her smile told him that there were no regrets. Around noon, she asked him if he wanted to step outside with her. Erik calmly but firmly refused, and she didn't prod. Christine knew that he didn't like her going out in the daytime, but the sun felt too wonderful against her face. To her surprise, Nadir followed her outside within a few minutes. "I thought I could use a little light. Am I bothering you?"
"No!" she exclaimed. "It'd be nice to have some company." She yawned and looked across the field. "There were some kids playing soccer way over there. I was tempted to join them."
"Yes. I imagine you could use some exercise. I am sorry that conditions are like this."
"It's fine," she replied. "It'll get better." They both sat on the dormant grass, and she leaned back onto her hands. February was nearing its end, and she wondered when the weather would become warmer. Spring was the season of renewal, wasn't it? "Can I hear more of the story?" she asked after a minute. "Erik leaves so late at night that I never get to talk to you alone."
"Ah. I keep hoping you will forget."
She laughed. "I want to know more than ever. You went back to France, right?"
He nodded. "Yes. We went to Paris, where Falcon's offices were headquartered, and searched for a lawyer. France did not have class action lawsuits, and so we were forced to act alone." Nadir sighed, and his expression darkened. "After hearing of our claims, the company said that they wanted to negotiate with us. I think they knew full well that Erik was the little boy they had tried to murder."
"Why would you even try to negotiate with those disgusting people? Why not go to court?"
"It was a lot of money," he replied. "We weren't familiar with French law and had no idea what we were getting ourselves into. The company sent a lawyer over, and he seemed genuine…treated Erik like a human being for the most part. I guess it was all a show. I am not for certain." Nadir was silent for a moment, his gaze drifting to the side in thought.
"What happened?"
"A meeting was arranged," he continued, looking back up at her. "Falcon said that they wanted to talk about matters over dinner. Erik was to go alone. I can remember our conversation right before he left." A pained expression contorted Nadir's face. "You have to remember that he was only twenty, barely an adult despite his intelligence. Erik asked me if he looked presentable enough for those bastards. Honestly, Erik could never look presentable enough for them. He was too thin, and the mask was too glaring. His suit was not all that expensive. But I told him he looked fine. What else could I say?"
Nadir sighed and took a moment to collect himself, and she braced herself for the most difficult part of the story. "As you can guess, he never returned that night. I thought maybe he had stayed out too late and gotten a room, although it was not like him to remain in public for very long. The next morning, there was an article in the paper about an arrest for a double murder. There were reports that the perpetrator had a severe disfigurement, and that they had been forced to wrestle the 'crazed' man to the ground. There was only one photograph of the occurrence, but it was blurry and taken in the dark. Still, I knew that it was Erik."
"Oh, Nadir," she whispered. "What did you do?"
"I spent months trying to find him…tried to find out anything that I could. But there was nothing. I do not even know if there was a proper trial. For a decade, I thought he was dead, Christine. I thought they had finally killed him."
She dug her fingers into the grass as a tear ran down her cheek. "Where was he?"
"I'm going to guess some prison in France or a neighboring country. I do not know for sure. After a while, I finally gave up the search. I wallowed in depression for about a month, not even thinking of my own safety. I went to Toulouse and found a low-paying job with a biochemistry company…bought a small apartment and lived one day to the next, hating myself for the most part. Everyone that I came near seemed to die." He wryly chuckled. "Actually, I did go on a couple of dates, and that was a pathetic sight."
"How did you find him?"
"I didn't. Ten years later, Erik found me. I'd briefly heard of some occurrence at a prison that had left a good number of people dead…most strangled. I had not made the connection, though. It would have been too much to hope and fear for." Nadir paused. "If you think that you have seen Erik at his worst, you should have seen him then. He was a complete mess when he appeared in my apartment that night. He was bleeding, bruised, incoherent, dirty, restless…and very, very dangerous."
"And then the revenge," she softly continued, finally beginning to understand.
Nadir nodded. "I'll finish that part of the story another day. I cannot be sorry for everything I have participated in. Those people received no worse than they gave. But innocents were also killed along the way. Anyone who got in Erik's path met an early end. Until you."
"He said that having me would make Raoul talk," she murmured. It wasn't something on which she liked to dwell; how close had Erik come to ending her life that night?
"I do not believe that, looking back. If that were the sole reason, he would not have gone to the trouble. There were plenty of other ways of making that young man talk."
"Then why? He didn't even know me."
He shrugged. "Your answer is as good as mine."
"One more thing. How did Erik even find Raoul and me?"
An amused smirk played across Nadir's tired face. "Ah. That began with a picture in the newspaper."
"A picture?" Her eyes narrowed in confusion. "My engagement!" she exclaimed after a moment. "Raoul wanted to announce it to the world."
Nadir shook his head. "The poor boy succeeded in doing so, I fear."
Raoul hadn't gotten much sleep over the past month. Stress and anxiety kept him awake, along with the occasional thumping of people doing God knows what in the room above him. He blamed his paranoia on his constant exhaustion.
Leonie hadn't been around as often. She was still sympathetic, but her answers to his questions were clipped and disinterested. When he went to dinner with her, she often left the table to take phone calls.
"Is something wrong?" he'd asked her, wiping off his mouth with a cloth napkin. He always felt the need to keep perfectly clean in these restaurants. Frankly, he was starting to miss hamburgers and fries.
"No, dear," she replied with a smile. "Just business as usual. Don't worry about it." He nodded and went back to his meal.
Raoul continued to keep in close contact with the police, but nothing more was ever found. And so he waited. Leonie had been right; the job wasn't that difficult. He signed tedious forms and looked over annual reports. Most of the upper-level managers handled everything related to the manufacturing. The leaders of the divisions in other countries would occasionally call with a question, and he either answered as best he could or directed it to the appropriate office. It was all mundane.
Luxury was ever-present, though. A woman with a curly blonde perm came in to take his meal order every day, and the food was always from the most exclusive restaurants in the city. Leonie suggested that he buy an expensive apartment, but he'd continued to stay at the hotel out of convenience. Someone did his laundry and cleaned his office, and a limousine constantly remained at his service. Leonie had even subtly suggested that he could pay good money for the services of beautiful women, but he'd refused. He didn't want that.
He wanted to find Christine.
It was a Tuesday afternoon, and rain was threatening to fall from the puffy grey clouds. With a briefcase in one hand, Raoul started to walk out of the office building and go home for the day. As always, his mind was half-asleep. He didn't even notice when a man in a grey suit and navy blue tie approached him. The middle-aged gentleman had a grim expression on his cleanly-shaven face. "Excuse me. Mr. Chagny." The man held a notepad and pen in his hands.
Raoul glanced up. "The press isn't supposed to be here," he stated, as Leonie had taught him to do. If that didn't work, he would get security to handle the matter. "There's an interview tomorrow."
The man cleared his throat. "With all due respect, Mr. Chagny. I'm not a reporter; I'm with the police."
"Oh!" he exclaimed, letting his guard down. "Have they found anything? Has Christine been found?"
The man hesitated. "This isn't about Ms. Daae."
Raoul squinted. "Then what is it about?"
"I have several questions that I think are fairly harmless. If you want, we could do this under more formal circumstances. Otherwise, you could answer them for me now."
"What about?"
"A prison riot that occurred several weeks ago." The man stared closely at him. "One of the inmates was brutally stabbed and killed."
"I didn't hear anything about that," he replied, not understanding where this was going.
"The man who died was apparently partially responsible for your kidnapping last spring. His name was Darius. Probably thirty to thirty-five years old."
Raoul started. "Oh. I didn't know that. I forgot all about him. That's…" An unpleasant feeling settled in his stomach. "That's surprising."
"I see." The man quickly wrote something down. "You knew nothing about it at all? Not even in the news."
"No. I've been really busy."
"I'm sure you have," replied the man. He tucked his notepad away and backed up several steps. "Well, I suggest that you make no attempt to leave the country over the next few weeks. Just until we get this matter cleared up."
"What's going on?"
The man paused. "Some technicalities, Mr. Chagny. Stay put for a while."
Raoul nodded. "I don't plan on leaving until Christine is found. You should talk to Leonie Neumanns. She might have more answers, if this is about the company."
"I'll do that." The man quickly walked away, turned left, and disappeared behind the corner of a building. Raoul swallowed and stared after him, shivering as a cold wind blew against his face and hands.
A euphoria raced through the shadow's veins as he crept through the back metal door of a food store and into the area where the products were first unloaded. He quickly collected what he could from the inventory that had not yet been shelved, Christine's list firmly engraved into his memory. Cinnamon. Nutmeg. A bag of apples. A loaf of wheat bread. A spatula… He would forget nothing.
He still did not understand her actions. Why would anyone willingly get so close to the head of a cadaver? Even…even if she loved him, she could not love his face. Had he possessed his senses at the time, he might have stopped her. On occasion, he had unmasked himself in the face of his most despised victims before they died, taking delight in adding to their torture. But never would he expose his angel to such horror.
Yet, how could he regret it now? Afterwards, he had been in near pain, thrilled senseless from the occurrence but horrified at the thought of her leaving out of disgust. But she did not leave.
He plucked several magazines that she had requested from a rack, taking no interest in the covers. If the general population was considered unattractive in comparison to the faces on the fronts, then no word existed to describe what he was. Still, Christine seemed to enjoy reading them. He remembered that Nadir had asked for a newspaper and found one from the previous day. Habitually glancing down at the front page, he froze and reread the headline.
International Manufacturing Company Falcon Under Investigation
And the next line.
Did Falcon's newest boss sign off on a hit job? Police continue questioning.
After reading the article, he let the paper fall from his hands and onto the linoleum tiles with a soft thud, before standing there in the eerie silence and considering the implications. Darius. The idiot had been too much trouble, but it would be invigorating if his death were to bring down the company. Although the prospect of justice might have contented him, only one thought remained certain.
Christine would not see this. The last thing that he wanted on her mind was that damned boy! Not now! She was his now. Besides, there would be delicious satisfaction if Chagny went to prison. The boy wouldn't survive a month in there, much less a decade.
Something tugged at his mind, but he quashed the feeling. Christine would never know. He abandoned the paper on the floor and left with all he had acquired. Before going back to the townhouse, he went to an electronics store and retrieved several more music disks for her, the article replaying itself in his mind.
Let them all rot in prison.
He returned while it was still dark and set the items of food on the kitchen counter. Christine had taken to making meals specifically for him on occasion. Although he was never sure what he was tasting, he could feel something awaken his formerly deadened sense. When they went out in the evenings, he also thought that his non-existent nose caught her scent. He couldn't identify the smell, perhaps a soap of some kind, but it made him want to remain in her vicinity.
She came out of her room around eight and smiled, already washed and dressed. "Do you ever sleep?" she asked.
"Occasionally." He would sometimes lean against the wall and doze. Sleep had come easier within the last week, perhaps from knowing that he would awaken to her presence in his life.
"Aren't you tired?"
"No." She shook her head and briefly hugged him. Each time she did that, it was more difficult to be satisfied with her mere presence; her touch was addicting. Nadir soon came out and joined her, pulling out a frying pan from one of the cabinets and muttering about eggs.
He left them to their morning activities and went into the living area to sit with his thoughts and perhaps get a few lines of his composition onto paper. Although the music of famous composers had come smoothly from the violin during his evenings with Christine, he sometimes found it difficult to concentrate on his own masterpiece. The second half was not properly matching the first. He stared down at the notes that he had written the previous night with disdain.
Suddenly, his head snapped up. His flawless hearing picked up the faint sound of male voices from outside. A shadow passed by the window. "Silence!" he hissed, racing back into the kitchen. They stopped their cooking and looked up at him in bewilderment
"What-?" Nadir started to ask, before he was silenced by three loud knocks at the front door. Christine quietly gasped and clutched onto the wooden spoon she was holding. His hand instantaneously darted toward the lasso. Two more knocks sounded out. Had Christine not been standing there, he would have given them no time to enter.
He placed his voice next to Nadir's ear at a whisper, his tone steady. "If they come inside, keep her away from the door. Do not let her see." Nadir frowned but nodded once in understanding.
He motioned for them to stay put in the kitchen, before approaching the front entrance again. A momentary fury ripped through him, heating his blood. How dare anyone disturb his happiness?
"I didn't think anyone was living here," faintly stated a man's voice. "But my son said he saw someone come in here last night."
"Probably some kids trying to use it for a party or something," replied another man. "This place isn't occupied for another two months." There were fading footsteps and then silence. He considered chasing them, but it was daytime. Plus, their disappearances might arouse more suspicion. Still, he knew that this location would not be safe for much longer. The owner would arrive within a month or two, and there was little he could do to prevent that.
"Who was it?" Nadir asked as he returned to the kitchen.
"Neighbors, I suppose," he replied.
"Do you think they will be back?"
"I do not know. But it was expected at some point. While we are not in immediate danger, it is time to think about future locations."
"It was nice here," Christine murmured from behind him.
He cringed at the disappointment in her voice and turned around. The color was slowly returning to her cheeks. Reaching out, he gently ran a hand through her hair. "We will be fine. We will go somewhere else." She nodded, although a small frown remained on her lovely face.
Nadir sighed and took a seat, rubbing his temples with one hand. "I guess all we can do is wait." He glanced around the kitchen. "Did you happen to get a newspaper?"
"There was no newspaper!" he snapped, his muscles tensing.
Nadir stared at him. "I thought we could see if there are any reports of us being in this area."
"There was no newspaper," he steadily repeated. Christine was watching him, and he despised all those who had intruded on their bliss, from Chagny to the damned neighbors. "Do not worry, Christine. I will take us somewhere where no one will find us-where we will escape the rest of the world. There will be just music and you and Erik. Do you understand? You must not worry." His voice became shriller with each sentence, as he desperately tried to hold everything together.
She pursed her lips, and he was unable to read her eyes. "There has to be…" She stopped.
"What, Christine?" asked Nadir.
"Nothing," she softly replied. "We'll be fine."
