Another long chapter for you all! I was laughing when I wrote this because I'm in the middle of writing tons of papers for gradwork as the semester finishes up and it takes me hours to meet a 5,000 word count for my essays, but can write nearly 5,000 words so easily for this story! Oh well... we all know fanfic is more exciting anyways!
Paris, February 1881
Lisette woke, panting heavily as she sat up. Sweat dripped from her brow and she threw the sheets from her body, listening to the thumping of her heart in her chest. The dream had been so vivid, so real…
She shivered as she closed her eyes and recalled the count, reaching and groping. Her dream was filled with his unwanted touches and half-crazed voice as he'd pinned her to the divan. What had frightened her about the dream was that it wasn't just a nightmare, but a recollection of memories.
As she opened her eyes, she blinked heavily, not used to being surrounded by so much darkness. Smoothing the sheets beneath her, she vaguely remembered how Erik had led her below the opera house. She had been too shocked to protest, knowing that the only person she could trust at that moment was him. He had offered her a nightgown from the opera's vast costume collection and a bed for the evening. She had never seen the other parts of Erik's underground home, but was so overcome with fatigue that she collapsed into the offered bed, falling asleep. Erik had barely spoken a word to her after the attack, for which she was grateful for. She was still unsure of what Erik's true nature really was, and to be seen so vulnerable by him was more than she could bear.
She quickly lit a candle, unsure if it was morning or evening, squinting as the room came into focus. This must be the room that Erik slept in. The walls were lined with thick, heavy curtains, as if trying to disguise the catacomb walls. Little trinkets seemed to be everywhere on shelves that look as if they might collapse at any moment. She saw the ney flute sitting on one corner of the room, surrounded by exotic looking ornaments and rich garments of silk. Wrapped around the ney was a rope, tied in a fashion that eerily reminded Lisette of a noose. As she stood and moved closer to inspect them, she then saw in another corner lay a pile of Italian madrigals and poems. Next to them lay a small scroll. Lisette's curiosity overcame her and she unrolled it. There was a large drawing of a beautiful building, like something a stone mason would build. No, it wasn't a drawing… it was a blueprint! She could see Erik's flawless handwriting in all the measurements. The lines were so straight, but she wouldn't have been surprised if he had drawn them freehand from the way his music staves were also similarly perfect. On the bottom right hand corner was a simple note that read, Questa è l'opera più bella che abbia mai visto - Giovanni.
As a musician, she could recognize the Italian language anywhere, even if she wasn't fluent. But who was this Giovanni? Had Erik been abroad more than she realized?
One of the last items she noticed was his violin sitting near the bed. On the very same table lay a cloth with two large holes poked through in the rough material. When she picked it up, she realized with horror that this was a makeshift mask. As she felt the rough burlap beneath her fingers, she shuddered. Had Erik really worn this? Next to the rough mask sat a monkey figurine with two cymbals clasped in its hands. She dared not touch it, for she could easily see it was a music box of some kind. She gently set the cloth mask back on the table, before reaching for the door out of the bedroom.
She discovered that there was no door, but rather a large set of curtains that opened up to a small hallway. Where had Erik taken her? Holding a small lamp in front of her, she went to the door on her right and discovered some kind of sitting room. Letting her curiosity get the better of her, she began to wander throughout the rest of the strange rooms in the house. She was not truly convinced she was in Erik's home until she came to the makeshift drawing room where she had given lessons to him months before. His underground house also included two bathrooms, a dining room, kitchen, and food cellar. She could hardly believe Erik had built this all himself.
Her eyes suddenly widened. Where was Erik? She was sure to have discovered every corner of his strange dwelling, but had not seen or heard him. Was he to be a ghost in his own home as well?
Just as she was thinking this, another face crossed her mind. Christine! OF course, he could not leave his prodigee alone for so long. Her eyes flickered dangerously, turning to the organ which was dimly lit by the surrounding candelabras. To her surprise, it was not Don Juan Triumphant that sat on the organ, but rather Charpentier's Dies Irae. Her fingers twitched, staring at the music. She remembered the piece fondly from her studies at the Conservatoire, deeply passionate and deeply intimate. She was pleasantly surprised to see how far Erik's skills had improved that he would attempt such a piece on the organ. She knew he was far too proud to attempt a piece of music that was beyond his capabilities.
Glancing over her shoulder, she sat down at the organ, before flexing her fingers and beginning to play. It felt glorious to play as boldy and daringly as she could, with no thought of being overheard by anyone in the depths of the opera house. She let the notes fly beneath her fingers, smiling triumphantly as she conquered difficult passage after difficult passage. The piece was haunting, and she could recite the Latin liturgy by heart.
Day of wrath and doom impending,
David's word with Sibyl's blending,
Heaven and earth in ashes ending.
Her hands at last reached the final chord, which she let echo around the chamber until it left her ears ringing, before finally releasing the keys.
"I couldn't have played it better myself."
She looked up to see Erik making his way across the lake on his small gondola, a smile playing on his lips. She was still not used to the sound of his voice feeling like it was right by her ear. She let her hands fall from the organ, awkwardly fumbling together in her lap.
"I apologize," she said, as he came ashore with a large bundle in his arms. "I should have asked."
To her astonishment, Erik waved her comment away. "It does not bother me," he said. "I'm honored to hear such divine music being played on my instrument."
She stood, but blushed as she remembered her appearance. Her hair was loose and untamed, still in ringlets from the ball. Her threadbare nightgown made her feel particularly exposed as she began to realize how cold and drafty the room was. She turned from him quickly, trying to ignore the color rising in her face.
"I have some things for you," she heard Erik say. "I had Madame Giry fetch some of your belongings."
Lisette turned to him, raising an eyebrow.
"She's trustworthy," he said, holding out the bundle towards her. "Feel free to use the bedroom to change."
Despite being annoyed that Erik had someone go through her things, she couldn't help but feel grateful to have something to wear other than the nightgown and her dress from the previous evening. She went into the bedroom, letting out the sigh she'd been holding since Erik had arrived. There wasn't much in the bundle, just a couple of dresses, a comb, and her rucksack of music. She changed eagerly, plaiting her long hair into a more manageable style. The only thing missing from the bundle was the powder she used to hide her scar. She bit her lip, contemplating if she should abandon the crazy scheme Erik had pulled her into and walk home. However, she felt sweat break out on her forehead as the thought of walking through the opera house, alone, crossed her mind. The count's eyes pierced through her mind as she remembered his seductive whispers and the forcefulness of his grip. She felt her breathing become shorter, more agitated, and the room began to spin.
"Lisette? Are you alright?"
"I'm not sure," she replied weakly, grabbing onto the side of the bed for support. The curtains of the room's entrance flew open, Erik nearly bolting to her side.
"Let me help you," he said in a voice so soothing, Lisette couldn't believe it belonged to the same man who had held a knife to the count's throat just a few hours ago.
"I think you'll need to help hold me up," she said as she felt her knees buckle beneath her. In a bold and daring move, she wrapped her arms around Erik's neck. The last thing she remembered was the slight flinch in his stance at the physical contact.
She saw a series of images flash before her. Her brother's face, distorted with concern. She saw Christine, pale and frightened, clinging to the viscount like he might disappear. Then she saw Sorelli and the count, twirling in each other's arms at the Masked Ball. And then there was the Red Death, staring as if it could see her very soul. She clawed desperately at the skull only to find Erik's exposed face underneath, terrifying and enthralling all at once. But he was not angry. Instead, she saw tears glistening on his exposed cheeks. Hurting, longing…
She woke to the sight of Erik hovering over her. At first, she thought she had woken from a dream, seeing she was back in the bed she had slept in the night before. Gasping, she sat up, and Erik carefully placed a hand on her shoulder, easing her back down.
"Easy," he said. "I'm afraid you fainted."
Lisette blinked, trying to remember what had brought this on. But then she remembered the count's face and the clamminess began once more.
"Water!" she croaked. "Please!"
Like a living ghost, he disappeared and was back by her side, lifting a small cup to her lips. She gulped down the water, closing her eyes as she felt the images and nausea melt away almost instantly.
"I remembered his face," she said, watching Erik relax as he witnessed her improvement. "I just… I didn't want to remember. It all came rushing back."
"I should have killed the bastard," she heard Erik mutter.
"And I'm thankful you didn't," she said, sitting up at last. "What a fool you are, showing up to the Masked Ball dressed in that despicable costume! Why every man in that room should've had a pistol aimed at your chest! And after the chandelier, my god, Erik! You may claim to be a ghost, but I assure you they would have discovered you were flesh and blood if you killed the Comte de Chagny!"
"But we gave him the upper hand!" Erik cried, standing and going to one of the large mirrors propped on the wall. "Don't you see? He knows who I am! He holds power over you! Don't deny it, just look at you! You will never be the same because of what happened!"
Lisette felt rage bubble in her stomach. "You're right, Erik," she said as calmly as her voice would allow. "I won't be the same. But that does not mean he holds power over me! I may be frightened and hurt, but that will fade with time. If I have anyone to blame for my nerves, it's you!"
He turned her direction, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "What do you mean by that, I pray?"
"Take a look for yourself!"
She stood, coming towards him. She watched his stare as she came within inches of him. His eyes slowly followed as she pointed at the fresh scars criss-crossing her face. She rolled up the sleeves of her dress and let the light from the candelabras flash over the markings on her arms. She even dared to show him an exposed calf, where other scars lay.
"You killed Armel!" she cried, burying her face in her hands. "If I hadn't been pulled out from the stalls, who knows what would've happened! And this is all your fault for being so damn proud. You're too busy trying to get precious Christine as the star of the opera house that you forget how you hurt others!"
He caught one of her wrists in his hand, seething. "I am not at fault!"
"Not at fault?" Lisette did her best to bite back a mocking laugh. Not only had he nearly killed her, but he was claiming innocence! "I am not a fool, Erik! I have dealt with your plots and schemes for far too long. I know that was your voice in the performance hall that evening threatening Carlotta."
"I was going to drop the chandelier," he said, letting her wrist go as she wrenched it away. "But it was not supposed to fall. Someone has been following me, Lisette. I'm not sure who it is or how they've managed to track me without being caught, but I was as shocked as you were when it plummeted to the ground. I had merely loosened the ropes to let it drop a few meters. You know how I am with Carlotta and how easy it is to frighten her! But when I looked, someone had purposefully loosened the pulley system from its place, knowing full well it would drop to the ground!"
He was panting as he finished his explanation, his eyes searching hers for some kind of response. Someone was following Erik? That didn't make any sense! The only people who knew Erik's secrets were allies! Christine was not malicious enough to pull such a stunt, for her reaction of surprise and horror that evening were genuine.
The thought of Christine instantly made color rise to Lisette's cheeks.
"So am I to also believe you did not kidnap Fraülein Daae?" Lisette asked.
The color rose to Erik's face this time and Lisette knew she'd guessed the truth. He moved from her, sitting on the edge of the bed and burying his face in his hands. She watched the half-mask rise slightly from this motion, giving her a glimpse of his deformed, right cheek.
"It was a mistake," he groaned. "And I fell to my weakness."
Lisette remained quiet, unsure if she wanted to hear what he had to say. But there was something about Erik that took her off guard. She was so used to his confidence, his always knowing best, that she found it oddly disturbing to witness him openly being in the wrong.
"It was all innocent," he said, not daring to look her in the eyes, afraid as if he might lose his courage. "Her lessons were progressing far more quickly than I would have ever imagined! You heard her that night at the gala! I've never heard finer singing in my life."
Lisette nodded stiffly, not too proud to admit to fine musicianship where it was due.
"But then the blasted boy came into the picture," Erik said, almost growling. "And her voice began to fade. No one else would have noticed, but I did. She swore her allegiance to her art, and to see her give it up for an infatuation with that fool was too much for me."
"I know you followed Christine to Perros," Lisette said accusingly.
He nodded solemnly. "It was the only way I could think of bringing her back to me. When I found out the boy had followed her, I knew I'd have to intervene or I'd lose her forever."
He glanced at her, his posture stiffening. "Judge me if you will, fraülein, but you cannot understand what it was like to be in my place. I played her father's music for her at his tombstone by the sea."
Erik had seemed to predict this would elicit a response from Lisette, but she stared blankly ahead, careful to watch her expression.
"I was able to pull her back to me," he continued, standing and beginning to pace the room. "When she left to return to Paris, I was certain there would be no more appearances from the vicomte. But that night… I had no idea those new managers had the nerve…"
His voice cracked as his anger came bubbling forth. Lisette took a step back, almost fearful of the animal-like growl coming from his throat.
"To see Carlotta on stage as the prima donna with Christine in a trousers role… I nearly lost my mind. And when Christine sang, it was not her full potential. And that wretched vicomte was waning for her… that was when I decided to save everyone by letting the chandelier drop to encourage the production to stop so they could make repairs. But someone had seen what I'd done to alter the chandelier and decided to not only stop the production, but stop the opera house from continuing on!"
Lisette's eyebrows knitted together. "So you never intended the chandelier to come crashing down?"
He fixed his gaze on her, daring to take a step closer. "Lisette, do you really think I would have done anything to put you in harm's way?"
She simply stared back, not sure how to respond.
"It was when I returned to my home, that I found Christine," he said, placing a hand on the back of his neck. "I did not… intentionally bring her here. I swear on my opera that she came here by choice."
"She came here?" Lisette asked. "But how?"
She saw his exposed cheek blush. "I'm afraid I took my theatrics too far. I showed her some of my secret passageways during the time I was trying to get her back on my side. I didn't realize how clever she was… she somehow managed to retrace our steps, allude all the traps I set for intruders, and make it down here unscathed."
Lisette felt a surge of jealousy run through her, remembering how the reason she had first met Erik in the flesh was due to falling into his torture chamber by mistake. Yet he willingly led Christine to his own, without any resistance?
"She begged for my protection," he said, a far off look in his eyes. "She felt that the publicity would blame her for the stunt as revenge on Carlotta."
"You shouldn't have let her," Lisette said, stepping away from him and examining the many trinkets he had around the room. "I believe hiding her has only made things worse. While I'm not sure if anyone blames her for the incident, I know the public certainly blames you. But her disappearance has only made you look like a murderer and a kidnapper!"
She saw his nostrils flare at the accusation. "And since when do I have any reason to care or believe what people have to say about me?"
"Sometimes, I wish you would listen," Lisette said. "But why did she stay so long? Why didn't you force her to leave?"
"I-I can't explain it," Erik said. "My relationship with Christine is… delicate. To have her back in my clutches, it was too irresistible. She vowed to spend every moment with me studying, learning, practicing…"
His voice trailed off as he looked at Lisette. "It won't matter what I say or how I defend myself. I don't believe it would make any difference to anyone but myself."
"So why did she return to the land of the living?"
Erik shook his head. "It was only a few days after the accident. She seemed to be reverting back to being distracted. She was writing letters frantically and I hardly heard her sing the rest of the time she was here. She locked herself in my sitting room for days, weeping. Then, one day she asked to get some air, but only if I went with her. I took one of the carriages from the opera house and we drove in the dead of night. It was during this time that she dropped a letter out the window onto the city street. She tried to be discreet, but I saw everything and felt like a fool. We drove right by the house of the Comte de Chagny and I knew she had written to the boy. The day of the Masked Ball, she left without even a goodbye."
He finished, trying to hide his heavy breathing. "Come," Lisette said. "Let's go to the sitting room. Do you have any coffee?"
A few moments later, they both settled themselves in front of a roaring fire with fresh brewed coffee in their mugs. Lisette sipped gratefully, letting the bitterness wash away the lack of sleep she was beginning to feel.
"Armel was a fine musician."
Lisette was caught off guard by Erik's comment, her coffee nearly spilling from its mug. "H-he was," she replied, barely able to spit out the words.
Erik's gaze was locked on her from where he sat. "I never—never imagined… I should have been there."
"What's done is done," Lisette said, unable to hide the tears threatening to spill over. "He was a true friend, I can tell you, and one of the finest bassoonists in all of Paris."
There was a moment of silence that passed between them. For a moment, she thought it was because Erik didn't know what to say. But the more time she spent studying his expression, she realized that death was a topic he knew well.
"Let me see your arms."
Again, Lisette jumped, and then shied away.
"I-I can't."
Erik set down his mug, before taking hers and setting it down as well. He moved closer to her, sitting himself on the very same couch. "Please."
The gentleness and masculinity of his voice overwhelmed her. Shyly, she unbuttoned the cuff of the dress she was currently wearing and rolled up the sleeves. As she did so, she watched Erik remove his gloves. He grimaced as the light from the fire danced across her arms, showcasing the new scars that decorated her forearms. He did not reach out like she expected him to. Instead, she watched him shrug out of his suit jacket, revealing the white shirt and gray vest underneath. He began to imitate her movements, unbuttoning the cuffs of his sleeves and rolling them up. He put his arms next to hers, causing her to gasp.
His arms were decorated in similar scars. They danced agrily across his flesh, but these scars were not new. They had been stretched with age, almost as if they were decades old.
"My mother locked me away in our house as a child," he said flatly, determined to hide the emotion in his voice. "She couldn't bear the sight of me, so she hid me away in the attic. I used to play with the old mirrors in the attic, but grew so angry that I shattered them. And then the village rebelled against me, breaking into our home, shattering our windows…" He covered one of his arms, flinching as if he remembered the pain. "I'll never be able to escape these scars."
His piercing eyes locked with hers. "I'm so sorry you've been marked the same."
Lisette rolled down her sleeves and tentatively brought a hand to her cheek, feeling the bumpy flesh underneath. "It doesn't matter. It's not like people see past my face."
His eyes flashed at her remark. He turned from her, rolling down his sleeves as well. She stared at her hands, before daring to speak again.
"Won't you take your mask off, Erik? Of all people, you know you can not only trust me, but I understand the challenges you face."
She saw his hands shake as he clenched them into fists. "I can't."
She instantly stood, trying to ignore the bubbling anger threatening to burst forth. "Why? Because I'm so ugly you can't bear to be like me? Pitied at every moment? Frightening strangers away?"
He grabbed one of her wrists, still seated. "You don't understand."
"Don't understand?" she scoffed, wrenching her hand away that she nearly knocked his mask off by accident. "How can you say that?"
"Because you've always had people supporting you!" he said, standing and knocking their coffee to the ground. She watched intently as the brown liquid seeped into the thick rug beneath them. "You have a family! You were unmarked! You know what it's like to be beautiful! You have no idea what it's like to be loathed by your own mother since birth, captured and turned into a freak show, frightened someone to the point where they killed themselves trying to run away, forced to do things you would never imagine yourself to do in your nightmares…"
His voice caught, somehow still sounding flawlessly musical despite the awkward sound. He clutched at his hair, threatening to rip it from the roots. Sweat was glistening on his temples as he steadied his breathing.
"Take the mask off, Erik."
She kept her voice low, steady. The calmness of her tone seemed to take him by surprise as he turned back to her.
"I can't."
The way he said this was much different than when he'd said it earlier. It was as if he was pleading, begging with her. She could see a tear disappear behind the white mask and was taken aback by the response. She was so used to seeing Erik so stoic and never seen him this broken before.
"Not after what happened with Christine," he said, doing his best to hide the tears that were beginning to spill over. "It's what drove her away. She saw my face and fled."
Lisette closed the space between them. "I am not Christine," she said. "You forget I've already seen your face. And I hoped you would know me well enough by now to know my respect for you does not lie in how you look."
She collected the mugs from the carpet. "I'm going to practice on your spinet," she said calmly. "I won't leave and will be here until you're ready to stop being such a bloody fool."
She could feel Erik's eyes on her as she left the room.
I would very much appreciate reviews on this story! I've gotten so many favorites and followers with this that I'm anxious to hear from all of you!