The carriage picks them up two streets away from the Opera House, Christine taking the normal, obvious path to get there and Erik slinking in the alleys and back roads to meet her there.
"I am sorry you had to carry my luggage for me, my dear. Thank you for doing so."
Christine tries to hide the smirk on her face by strategically pretending to lean into a hand.
"It's nothing, Erik. You are quite welcome."
Erik's luggage was decidedly not nothing - the man had packed nearly as many clothes as Christine and she was notorious for overpacking. Still, she didn't mind pulling the extra bags with her, because she knew that for him to do so himself would only draw attention when he trying to hide.
She very wisely holds back the commentary that the only other man she's ever known to pack so many articles of clothing for a short trip like this is Raoul. He surely would not appreciate being compared to such - as he had called him - a slave of fashion. Her lips quirk at the mere thought.
Once on board the ship they go immediately to their room. Despite himself, Erik found the ship very interesting and saw many things he wanted to take a closer look at later on. When he had first seen the crowd of people milling about and getting ready to board, he was seized with an anxiety and shyness, swearing to stay in his room for the entire voyage. But curse whoever designed this ship - the architecture and style was just too interesting not to come back and look at. Perhaps it wouldn't be so terrible to be around people for just a little while.
Erik had not seen the ocean for at least twenty years. He stood by the window in their room and stared and stared. By the time Christine had finished unpacking both of their luggage she noticed he was still at the window. She came and stood by him, slipping her arms around his waist.
"Why don't we go sit out on one of the decks, Erik? That way we can get some fresh air as well."
He shakes his head.
"I am quite fine right here, Christine."
"Are you very sure? We could push two of those lounge chairs together and sit right by the edge and breathe in the salt air and bask in the sun and we can hold hands, and no one will take second glance at us, we'll be just like any other couple here..."
As expected, those were the magic words.
"Perhaps so..."
Sometimes Christine felt just a little guilty over being able to ply him so easily with that phrase, but she always made sure to never do so unless it truly was the best for him. Besides - she didn't almost spoil their marriage for him to stand by a window for the entire trip.
So he follows her out and they pull two chairs away from the others just a little, and push them close enough to each that when they lay down she's able to reach over and grab his hand and give it a squeeze.
"It will be alright, darling." she tells him as he pushes his hat more forward to cover as much as of his mask as he can. "There's absolutely nothing to worry about on here, nobody here knows us and no one will even take a second glance."
There's a brief moment of silence from the both of them as they look out over the vast waters.
"Why Christine! Fancy seeing you here!" a high voice calls out just a little too loudly from directly behind.
Erik flinches as Christine spins around to see.
"Meg! Good heavens!"
Meg turns her eyes to Erik, her grin getting bigger.
"Oh! And how good to see you again, Monsieur."
Erik attempts a smile but it may in fact be more of a grimace. He doesn't trust that sparkle in her eye. Christine had endlessly vouched that her friend was excellent at keeping secrets, but he can't possibly see how that could be the case when she always speaks so loudly. He feels half the boat is probably staring already, alerted by her voice to some spectacle.
As if there wasn't already enough to make Erik want to suddenly fade into nothingness, there is a man just behind Meg who is approaching and also giving a rather large and slightly unnerving smile.
"Hello, Christine." the man makes a small bow to her. "It is lovely to see you again."
"Hugo!" Christine had not seen Meg's husband in ages, but he was still just as dashing as she remembered. "I had no idea we would run into anyone we knew here!"
Meg laughs.
"That's why we're here too! A chance to get away from it all for a little while - it's gets dreadfully annoying at times, the amount of gossip that circulates."
The conversation reached a pause, with both Meg and Hugo looking expectantly at Erik.
"Oh, Hugo, this is my husband, Erik. I don't believe you've met him before. Erik, this is the Baron de Barbazac."
Erik had heard of the man but had never seen him in person before. He was tall, rather handsome, his dark hair laced through with streaks of silver, and a smile that seemed truly genuine. What stood out most to Erik, however, was the way he held eye contact as opposed to letting his eyes dart over Erik's face and examine the mask. Erik finds this surprising but pleasant.
"An honour to meet you, Baron."
"Call me Hugo, we're all friends here." he laughs.
He and Meg pull up two more chairs and Erik groans inwardly. Friends indeed.
"What brings you two here, Christine?" Meg asks.
Christine smiles.
"We are here to celebrate Erik's birthday, actually."
"How exciting! A celebration!" she claps her hands. "So you simply must come to the dance tonight!"
"What do you think, Erik?" Christine looks over at him.
He gives a small nod.
"Yes, perhaps so."
In actuality all Erik really wants to is sit somewhere in peace and quiet. Unfortunately for those plans, Meg and Hugo stay next to them for what seems an eternity, chatting about various subjects while Erik tries his best to remain polite but also silent.
Despite his best efforts to stay outside of the conversation and the fact that he dislikes meeting new people, he can't help but find the conversation... not terrible. When Hugo mentions his villa in Italy, Erik finds the words are out of his mouth before he can stop them.
"I used to live in Rome."
"Ah, a beautiful city, is it not? The architecture there is exquisite."
Erik raises his eyebrows.
"I'm inclined to agree, seeing as how that was my career at the time."
It leads to an extended conversation about architecture that leaves both women a little confused and lost. Still, they enjoy that their husbands have found a common interest.
The brightness of Christine's smile could rival the sun reflecting off the waves. Perhaps her husband has found a friend - heaven knows the man was in short supply of those. If that were the case, then surely it would be no large feat to ask Erik to come with her on visits to Meg's home. Already plots for adventures with the four of them begin to form in her mind.
The afternoon wears on and soon it's time to prepare for dinner and then the dance later.
"What did you think of Hugo?" Christine asks him once they're in their room.
"He was... Not disagreeable."
Erik replies.
Christine nods. That is, perhaps, the most she'll get out of him - Erik is not one to compliment people as a rule.
"You seemed to get along just fine. I think he's perfectly lovely - he's so kind to Meg, she couldn't have made a better match. And he looks so dashing with that silver in his hair."
"Oh?" Erik asks, running his hand over his wig. "Do you really think so?"
"Mm hm. Are you sure you want to go to the dance, Erik? You don't have to if you don't want to, you know."
"We might as well, we're already here. Besides, we can always leave if we find ourselves so inclined."
They attend the dance and end up staying. Christine had forgotten how good of a dancer he was, her mind going back to that masquerade at the Opera Populaire that seemed so long ago now, ages ago before she had confessed her true feelings to him. She tells herself that she must remember to ask him to set up a phonograph when they get home so that they can dance in their living room.
Halfway through the evening they run into Meg and Hugo, and when the next song starts up Hugo asks Christine for a dance. Erik watches them make their way to the dance floor, his gaze lingering on Hugo's apparently dashing hair.
Meg smiles as she watches them, keeping her gaze from landing on the man next to her. She had almost hoped, for just a moment - but no. It was alright. She can be content to sit this one out.
It's not more than a handful of moments before Erik realizes what manners would dictate he do next. He glances at Meg. She really has been so good about everything - it seemed she hadn't even told her husband anything about him beyond that he and Christine had met at the opera. He suspects that she might have a bit of crush - not on him, exactly, but on the Phantom persona he had created. It made him feel a little awkward at times because he didn't know how to react to that - the Phantom of the Opera was supposed to be a terrifying figure who wreaked havoc, not the subject of a girl's romantic fantasies. That was partly why he had revealed himself to Christine as the Angel of Music instead - surely angels were much more appealing than phantoms, and less vindictive too. But still, despite his bafflement at her inexplicable yet utterly innocent crush, he extends his hand to her and smoothly says-
"May I have this dance, Baroness?"
Her entire face lights up as she slips her hand into his.
"Of course, Monsieur!"
It ends up beings a simply lovely dance for all four of them. Christine laughs out loud when Meg catches her eye mid-twirl, flashing Christine a wide grin and removing her hand from Erik's shoulder to briefly point at him.
"It was a wonderful evening, Erik." Christine tells him later on as they arrive in their room once again. "You seemed to enjoy it, did you not?"
"I must admit, it has all gone better than I had expected."
He's already changed out of his clothing and into his pajamas and is staring out the little window once again. When Christine finishes changing she comes and stands beside him.
The vast ocean, slowly rippling in the moonlight, looks nearly black, like endless ink stretching as far as the eye can see. What once was warm and inviting, a cheery shade of blue, now looks ominous and foreboding. It makes her shiver to look at it, and Erik pulls her close to him. How strange, she thinks, that something can change so much by being plunged into darkness. She glances up at her husband and takes comfort in the fact that the opposite is also true - that what seems terrifying and cold sometimes only needs to be brought into the light to find that it's actually warm and caring.
Erik sleeps very fitfully that first night, waking every so often with a small start, not at all used to sleeping in a room that lets in moonlight and the soft sounds of the other rooms around them. Twenty years of sleeping under the ground in absolute silence and darkness was a hard habit to get out of.
The following day it rains, spoiling any hopes of spending much time outdoors, so they must content themselves with indoor activities - they join Meg and Hugo in their room and play game after game of cards to pass the time. It's decidedly less awkward than Erik had feared it would be, and he even finds he can let his guard down just enough to enjoy himself.
The weather for the rest of the trip is lovely, however, and they make the fullest use of that, leaving no activity onboard untried or view from the railing unseen.
On the last night of the voyage they silently slip from their room and make their way to the edge of the railing, looking out at the view illuminated by the full moon. Christine is dazzled by the sheer amount of stars in the sky pressing back the darkness of the night, and for a moment she feels as though she's on the edge of falling. But Erik is behind her, holding her tight. Instead of looking up at the splendor of the midnight heavens, he's gazing at the beauty of his Christine. She outshines the stars themselves, he thinks.
"Thank you, Christine." he whispers to her.
She glances back, surprised.
"What for, Erik?"
"For thinking of and planning this trip. For knowing what I need and pushing me to do it. For being so kind to me." he hesitates, suddenly feeling shy.
"For loving me. For everything." he adds softly.
He never would have come up with the idea to go on a cruise, never would have imagined it could go well with any stretch of the imagination. Had anyone else brought the idea up to him he would have dismissed it outright. But his perfect angel of a wife had thought of it, had been able to picture all the good that could come of it, and had planned the entire thing all on her own and the end result had been so wonderful - wonderful in a way that only something touched by Christine could be. She truly has to be an angel, he thinks, because she brings a bit heaven with her wherever she goes. No matter how many times his thoughts got carried away over the time they've been together, the truth remains that she has always been loyal to him, always loved him no matter what he may have feared otherwise.
Christine blushes. She isn't sure how to respond, so she instead she simply leans back against him.
"You are very welcome, Erik." she finally tries.
It somehow doesn't seem like the proper response to someone thanking you for your love, especially when considering what 'everything' in this relationship has entailed, but it's the best she can muster at the moment.
"And you will always be welcome, because I will always love you, you know. I'm glad you enjoyed your birthday." she smiles sweetly up at him.
"Christine - do you... Do you think, maybe, we could do something next year too? For my birthday, I mean?"
"Of course, Erik! I wouldn't let a single year pass that we don't. Did you really think otherwise?"
"I wasn't certain. I'm so used to not marking the occasion."
She sighs and squeezes his hand. He said the words easily enough with no trace of sorrow to them, and somehow that made it all the sadder to her. Sometimes he would say things so casually but they would pierce her with such a melancholy over what his past must have been like. To have only marked the occasion twice in what was at least forty years... And the first party when he was a small child could hardly even be counted considering how terribly it had turned out. Christine vows that she will always try her best to make up for it.
When the cruise ends it's like waking from a dream back into reality again. They say their goodbyes to Meg and Hugo with the promise of coming to visit them soon.
Christine has the entire day off after they get back. She had thought to spend the day with Erik, but he had informed her after breakfast that he had errands to run, and with a kiss brushed across her knuckles he was gone for the rest of the day.
Errands. She was always so morbidly curious what he was up to when he said that - what kind of errands could he possibly have? Even odder were the errands he'd run in daylight hours. He kept to the shadows and alleys and secret tunnels under the ground, she knew, but still she wondered what kind of business he was up to. She knew if she pressed him on the matter he would likely tell her, but she'd never done so. She could occasionally tell afterwards what some of the errands were for when a new item mysteriously appeared in their home afterwards - a rare book or a bottle of whiskey or a box of new candles. But sometimes he returned and nothing seemed different or new, and she wondered if perhaps a deal had fallen through or if he was merely putting in an order somewhere for some item or product that would arrive at a later date.
So she enjoys the solitude on her last day off before work, taking a particularly long bubble bath with a glass of wine and a good book. After that she spends a good while attempting to coax Ayesha out from under the bed, where she was sulking at having been abandoned with only Giry to feed her every day while Christine and Erik were gone. Once she lures her out with morsels of food, she takes her to the couch and brushes her long fur until Ayesha tires of the primping and jumps down from her lap. Christine then sets to work preparing a dinner to surprise Erik with. She had considered herself very good at cooking to begin with, but she had been learning so much more from helping him as he cooked and she was eager to show off her new skills.
When he enters the kitchen that evening, he isn't carrying anything to give any clue as to what his errands were. He is, however, quite surprised by the meal she has prepared for them.
"Christine, you did not have to do this."
She beams at him.
"I know, dear, but I wanted to."
It really is a lovely meal, roasted meat with a rich sauce and various vegetables on the side. She had paid careful attention to how each item was placed on the plate, a detail that does not escape his notice. He's quite proud of her and tells her so, along with enough compliments on her cooking to make her flush quite warmly.
It isn't until the following afternoon that when they're having tea in Giry's office that she notices it.
She surely would not have noticed had she been sitting on the couch next to him as she normally did, but today she was sitting in the chair directly across from the couch. Christine is telling Giry about their cruise and idly gazing over at Erik as he performs his lemon ritual into his teacup. Her eyes wander from his hands squeezing lemon after lemon into the cup, up his arms and over his broad shoulders, across his his face as he intently stares down at lemons, over his mask, his wig-
His wig.
That sleek black hair - or now, rather, that sleek black hair with thin streaks of silver.
When Christine notices it for the first time she stops mid sentence, her lips quirking into a smile. Her eyes dart over to a confused Madame Giry. Christine nods her head slightly and raises her eyebrows, trying to get her to look where she was looking. Giry becomes more confused at first, but on the second glance towards Erik he moves his head just slightly and the light catches just so and-
Giry chokes back a laugh, managing to turn it into a cough instead. What on earth had possessed him to do this, she wonders.
Christine shakes her head slowly, unable to stop smiling at the situation. She may have mentioned once - or maybe several times - how much she had liked Hugo's hair, but really! She should have known better, she supposes. Actually, she thinks to herself, she's quite lucky that all he did was order a new wig - obviously the comment had stuck with him but it seemingly hadn't sent him into an existential crisis or a moody fit as far as she could tell, which was a sign of vast improvement on his part, surely.
Erik glances up from his tea, realizing that all conversation has stopped. He sees both women staring at him with barely restrained laughter. At least they're both good enough to look away and pretend they weren't staring after he had looked up at them. Still, embarrassed color creeps over his face and he wonders if the stares and laughter were perhaps over the lemons or something else.
"Is something funny?" he frowns.
Christine clears her throat, able to tell that he's teetering closely to the verge of being hurt.
"I'm sorry, dear. It's nothing." she attempts to smooth over it.
"It's those damn lemons." Giry adds. "You know, sometimes we make bets on just how many slices you'll use."
"Madame! Don't tell him that!" Christine giggles.
Erik raises an eyebrow.
"Are you truly keeping count? Tell me, was it more or less lemon than the obscene amount of sugar in Christine's tea?"
"This again! Look what you've started, Madame!" Christine protests.
"Perhaps we'll have to start having lemonade instead of tea - then you'll both be happy." Giry offers.
"The lemon does not need any sugar to taste good. It just needs a little tea with it, that's all." Erik sniffs.
"Well I don't want any lemon in my lemonade, how about that?" Christine says.
"Christine." Erik sounds almost disgusted. "That would mean you're drinking nothing but sugar and water."
"Maybe I want to drink a cup full of sugar, Erik, did you ever think of that?"
"Unfortunately I did," he replies gravely. "I had the terrible image in my mind when I saw you putting half the sugar bowl into your tea."
The playful banter seems to have drawn him back from the edge of falling into a mood, and Christine silently breathes a sigh of relief.
They chat about various Opera House gossip that they missed while they were gone, but all the while Christine feels her eyes being drawn back to the new wig. When she had left for work in the morning he hadn't finished dressing, so she hadn't had a chance to see it then. So this was what his errand was for, then. Had he done this to please her? Because she had said it looked nice? Or was this also a part of his wish to be like everyone else, a gradual and planned appearance of aging?
Erik catches her eye on him and tilts his head, silently questioning her.
She smiles as she looks down.
"You always look so nice, Erik, you know I've always thought so. And today you look... Well, you look quite dashing today." her cheeks tint as she says the words.
"Oh?" is his only reply, but he can't hide the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Madame Giry bites her lip to keep from interjecting 'she means you look older' - she knows Erik well enough to know that the humor might not be taken so well, so she stays silent.
He unconsciously runs a hand over the wig and congratulates himself on a successful endeavor.
