Erik stood nervously in the doorway of their bedroom, watching Christine pack an overnight bag. She glanced behind at him. The mask covered his entire face, but his emotion was clearly visible in his posture.
"I'll be back tomorrow evening, my love," she told him soothingly, for what felt like the hundredth time. "It's just a Christmas visit to my Mama. You know I'll miss you when I'm away, but I want to spend some time with her now that it's the holidays. She's all alone, you know, I must keep her company just for a little while."
She finished packing and turned to smile at him. He wanted to accuse her of leaving her poor Erik all alone, but he bit the words back before they could escape. She never did well with accusations, he had found. She would become stern over it, and then he would cry, and that's just how those things went. So he simply nodded instead.
"Would Christine like to join Erik for breakfast, before she leaves?" his voice was hopeful but tremulous.
"Of course, dear."
She sat at the table and he placed a plate of exquisitely prepared eggs and scones with jam in front of her. He sat across from her, his plate noticeably absent.
"I thought I would be joining you for breakfast, Erik," she said evenly.
He shook his head, looking down.
"Erik isn't hungry," he replied quickly.
She wondered for a moment if it was because he would have to remove the mask to eat. He had been wearing that one ever since the night that she had first brought up the idea of her trip to stay briefly at Mama Valerius' home - and that had been over a week ago. He had been rather upset, but there had been no fits of weeping or outbursts accusing her of not loving him anymore - he had simply gone and changed into the fully molded mask instead of the simple silk one, as though by hiding more of his deformity he could perhaps convince her not to leave him.
She didn't force the issue. He would surely eat something once she had left if he was actually hungry.
"I'll be bringing presents with me when I come back," she told him, her eyes sparkling.
He tilted his head.
"For who?" he asked, aiming for nonchalance.
"For Madame Giry, and for Meg, and Jammes. La Sorelli, too - she's been so nice me lately, I simply must get her something. And of course there's the lovely women in the costume department, and oh- I'm going to be sending something small to Raoul and his wife, as well. Let's see, do you know the new girl at the concierge? She's so precious, I'm going to get her a box of candy."
She paused to take a bite of scone, watching him as he sunk a little lower in his chair, fiddling with a fork on the table and he looked down, despondency shining in his eyes.
She cleared her throat.
"And of course I'll be brining back something for you."
He dropped the fork, looking up and brightening.
"Oh, my dear, you don't have to do that," he said, but she knew better.
"I'm going to take Mama with me to the market to shop for the gifts. You should see it, Erik - they have a tree in the center square, and beautiful garlands and everything. It looks like a dream," she sighed.
"Christine likes the tree in the square?" he tilted his head.
She nodded.
"Oh, it's lovely. The decorations are just perfect. In fact, I was just thinking the other day - we should decorate in here. I think it would look so nice, don't you?"
He thought about it for a little while.
"Yes," he finally said, thoughtfully. "Yes, I suppose so."
She continued to chatter idly as she finished her meal. He insisted on cleaning up her plate for her, so there was nothing left to do but grab her bag and be on her way.
He escorted up to the surface, amber eyes glancing at her every so often.
"Are you very certain you do not wish for me to carry your bag for you?" he asked.
"You are such a dear to offer, but I assure you I am quite fine," she smiled.
Over a year of marriage and still his first instinct was to attempt to do every little thing for her, as though she were royalty and he a mere slave. She had to admit that it was tempting at times to simply let him do so, but it also had a tendency to irritate her at other times. She was quite a capable woman, and she reminded him of this on many occasions. He had grown much better about it over time, and she knew that he only offered not because he thought her weak or unable, but out of his worshipful devotion to her.
They reached the exit and he hung back in the shadows.
"Does Christine really have to go?" he whispered.
"It's just for one day," she pulled him into an embrace. "And yes, I want to see the market decorations with my Mama."
She looked up at him.
"You know you can come too, if you wish it."
"I know."
"I will be back before you know it, dear. Take advantage of this time and play the organ as loudly as you please," she teased him before standing on her toes to be able to kiss the cheek of the mask.
He raised a hand to gently trace his fingers over where she had kissed, as though he could feel it through the mask.
"Have a good time with your Mama, Christine," he told her tenderly.
She walked out into the sunlight, turning to wave at him one last time before disappearing down the sidewalk.
He took a deep but shaking breath. He repeated her words to him over and over - she would be back tomorrow, she would be back, she was coming back, it wouldn't be long and she would be here again. Christine had taken small day trips before, and she had always come back. It was nothing to worry over, but still...
His Christine was leaving him, and that was never easy, even if he did know it wasn't forever. She was leaving him because of her Mama and those blasted Christmas decorations in the market square... Those decorations couldn't be that great, he scoffed to himself. He sighed and turned to go back underground.
Christine truly loved the market square at Christmas. The sight of the tree all covered with tiny candles and fruits and sweets always made her smile. She set about looking for the perfect present to get Mama before she went to her house. She finally settled on a bottle of spiced wine and a basket full of breads and pears and oranges and grapes.
It was so wonderful to see Mama Valerius again - she hadn't seen her in several months, and she had missed her so. They had so much to catch up on that they weren't able to go to the market until the late afternoon, but neither one minded terribly because the lights on the tree were lit and every store window had a cheery glow to it.
They shopped and shopped until they had each found the perfect gift for everyone they knew - bags upon bags hung off of Christine's arms. Finally they were done.
Once at home again, Mama Valerius pulled her chair up to the fire and wrapped her shawl around herself, working on a knitting project that Christine had no idea was to be for her. Christine sat down on the rug at Mama's feet, working diligently to wrap each gift as best she could, tying fancy ribbons and bows around each parcel. As she wrapped she sang Christmas carols for her Mama. Her thoughts wandered briefly to Erik and what he might up to at that moment. She would find out soon enough.
As she snuggled under the heavy quilts on her old bed in Mama Valerius' guest room, Christine sighed happily to herself. She felt like a little girl again, here with her Mama and the joy of the holidays filling the very air with magic and wonder. In the morning she and her Mama would go out for breakfast, and then walk by the river and admire the snow covered trees. Then she would help Mama around the house with whatever needed help, and then they would have lunch, and then she would be on her way back home to her husband.
There was a happy skip in her step as they entered the market square that morning, heading for the little cafe. Mama Valerius was beaming, and it cheered Christine to see her so happy.
As they approached the square, however, they noticed a commotion going on near the tree - or rather, where the tree should have been.
"Whatever is going on?" Mama tutted.
"The tree is missing," Christine frowned.
Shop owners and various people had gathered around, gawking at the scene. The tree was gone, in addition to many of the strands of garland and wreaths from their shop doors. Exclamations and questions with no answers overlapped from everyone.
"Who would do such a thing?"
"Why would anyone want to steal from the square?"
"Where could it have all gone?"
"Did anyone see anything last night?"
"Not even a single footprint around the place when I got here this morning! It's like a ghost stole it all!"
Christine shivered.
a ghost
There was an odd little feeling in her tummy for a moment, but it was forgotten as Mama Valerius tugged on her arm, trying to lead her to the cafe.
"The tree might be gone, darling, but the breakfast certainly isn't!" she told Christine.
Breakfast at the cafe was delicious, but Christine couldn't help but compare it to the breakfasts Erik always made for her. She dearly wished that she could convince him to come with her on a visit to Mama one day, so that he could get to know her and cook for her - she knew both of them would greatly enjoy such a thing. One day, she told herself.
Mama asked all about what Christine's Angel was up to lately during their walk by the river. Christine recounted stories about the latest opera he was writing and how his composing was going.
When they arrived back at her home, Mama explained that were some house repairs to do, but she feared they were too difficult for Christine to tackle, so she could wait until an electrician could come by to fix it.
Christine's eyes lit up as Mama explained the problem with her new electric lighting.
"Oh! But I know exactly how to fix that, Mama! Erik showed me how."
Mama Valerius watched in awe as Christine set to work, deftly twisting the thin wires together before carefully encasing them in rubber. This time when Mama flipped the switch, the lights blazed to life once more.
"Christine, you are a marvel!" the old woman exclaimed.
They lingered over their lunch, both hesitant to end the lovely time they were having, but eventually Christine was standing near the door, giving her one last hug with the promise to be back in the new year.
Christine would miss her, but she was excited to return back home to Erik.
He was waiting for her just inside the Rue Scribe entrance. As she turned around after closing the gate, she saw him turn up the lantern before scrabbling to his feet with only slight difficulty from where he was sitting on the ground.
"Erik!" she helped pull him up. "You shouldn't sit on the ground, love, its bad for your joints."
"Did- Did Christine miss her Erik while she was away?"
"I did! Now take off your mask, I can't kiss you like that," she pouted.
He slowly, hesitantly, pushed his mask up so it rested on the top of his head. The uncertainty on his face, still there after all this time, caused her heart to twist. She quickly put her arms around his neck and peppered kisses to his sunken cheek and sharp jawline before kissing him on the lips. He closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair, bony fingers tightly gripping her back.
"And what did Erik do while his Christine was gone?" she asked airily.
"He waited for her to get back," was his swift reply.
"Is that all? Surely you did something else, too."
"No, nothing," he insisted.
He motioned to reach for the bags she had with her, but she pulled them back out of his reach.
"Ah, ah, ah! Your present is in there, you're not carrying these!"
He straightened and placed his hands behind his back to hide his twitching fingers. Of all the brightly wrapped packages, he wondered which one was his. But surely he would find out soon - Christine wasn't cruel enough to make him wait until it was actually Christmas before she gave him his gift, was she?
"How was your visit to Mama?" he asked smoothly.
She told him all about her nice visit on their way down, stealing glances at him and trying her best not to giggle at the sight of his mask still resting on the top of his head like some absurd hat. It wasn't that he had forgotten it was there, no - he simply didn't wish to push it back down yet, just in case she decided she wanted to kiss him again. He hated when she'd leave, but she always quite made up for it when she'd return.
Once inside their home, she suddenly remembered another story from her time up above.
"Oh, Erik - you'll never believe what happened to the market square," she told him as she made her way to the living room. "You remember that lovely tree I told you about? Someone stole it! Can you imagine? Who would be so cruel as to-"
The bags she was carrying dropped to the floor. Erik had not done 'nothing' while she was away - oh, no, far from it. He had most definitely done something.
There, in the middle of their living room, sat a tree.
Not just any tree, no.
The lovely tree from the market square.
Erik entered the room behind her.
"What were you saying, my dear? I was in the kitchen, I didn't hear you."
"Oh- oh Erik - what have you done?"
Her hands shook and her face was white when turned to look at him. The garland was strung up across the room, a wreath hanging over the fireplace. He glanced from her face to the tree and back again. A smile formed on his face.
"Erik has decorated," he said proudly.
"Erik, why?"
His smile began to fade. It wasn't supposed to happen like this - she was supposed to be happy when she returned, she should be hugging him and giving him kisses because she missed him, she should be thanking him for decorating, not standing there staring at him like that with such disapproval and sorrow in her beautiful eyes. He began to wring his hands.
"Christine does not like it? She does not like how Erik decorated?"
"No! I don't like it at all!" she cried, gaping at the tree which seemed so huge now that it was inside.
"But why?" Erik begged mournfully. "Christine loved the tree when it was in square."
She turned and leveled a glare at him. Despite his peculiar manner of speech, Christine knew that her husband was not simple - he understood a great many things, he was extremely well read, he had a knowledge of science and mathematics that was almost staggering to behold, his music and architectural designs were only a few of the testaments to his grasp on logic. And yet-
She debated herself on a near daily basis about whether, due to his unhappy upbringing, he simply didn't know the difference between right and wrong or if he knew but merely chose to overlook that difference when it suited him.
"Yes, because it belonged in the square! We can't keep it here, Erik, it doesn't belong to us."
He studied the tree for a moment before looking at her again, the picture of innocence.
"But it's in our house, how does it not belong to us?"
She pinched the bridge of her nose. How did he even manage to drag that thing in there? It must have been terribly heavy - because he was so thin and bony, and because of how careful he always was whenever he touched her, as though she were a delicate little bird, she often forgot just how strong he actually was.
"It has to go back. You have to take it back. It's clearly not ours - it belongs to someone else."
He narrowed his eyes at the tree, muttering under his breath, "I didn't see a name on it anywhere."
She crossed her arms and sighed, still incredulous that of all the things she could have possibly come home to, this- this was it.
"What on earth possessed you to steal all this?"
"Steal?" his eyes widened. "Erik didn't steal it, Christine - trees outside don't belong to anybody! I merely took it."
"And what about the garland and the wreath?"
He paused, considering this for a moment.
"I think they came with the tree," he finally said.
She fell into a chair with a weary groan.
"Oh, Erik, what am I going to do with you?"
He looked down at his feet with shame - or at the very least, with a very convincing feigned shame. He moved to sit and a chair opposite of her, slouching down in it and slowly pulling his molded mask down over his face. There would be no more kisses today, he knew this.
He made such a pitiful sight that Christine had to put a hand over her mouth to keep him from seeing her smile. She looked away. That mournful, aching regret in his eyes would drive her to forgive him without question if she looked at him for too long. She tried to remind herself that she was still mad at what he had done. Still, she'd need to say or do something soon, or else he might start to grovel and cry onto the hem of her dress like he'd done in the past.
"Erik just wanted to help Christine decorate," he said sadly. "He didn't mean to make her sad. He is sorry - very, very sorry."
She got up from her chair and crossed to sit next to him. Slowly, carefully so as to not make him flinch, she raised a hand to his head and gently stroked his hair. He leaned into the touch like a cat, closing his eyes.
"I know, dearest, I know," she cooed. "But we've talked about this, remember? You can't just say that you're sorry, you have to do something to show that you're sorry."
Erik opened his eyes and met her gaze.
"Tell Erik what to do and he will do it, he swears," he whispered from behind his mask.
"All you have to do is take the tree back to the square and put it right back where you found it, exactly as it was before."
He was silent.
"Will you do that, Erik? For me?"
He took one of her hands and raised it to the lips of the mask.
"My Christine is so funny sometimes. She never reacts how Erik expects. It is one of the many things he loves about her."
"Erik..."
"Christine is too good her poor Erik, he is trying but he still makes a mess of things at times, and Christine is so kind to him even still."
Her lips quirked at his flattery. He was being sincere, yes - but he wasn't above using sincerity to distract her. Still, she decided not to push it.
The next morning she awoke to the sounds and scents of a delicious breakfast being cooked. She dressed and entered the kitchen, where he had made every kind of imaginable breakfast dish - oatmeal, sliced fruits, eggs in three different styles, cottage cheese, toast, and various little pots of jams and honey and butter.
"Good morning, Christine," he smiled as she entered the room. "Try whatever you would like, my dear."
She took a little of everything on her plate, and went back for seconds.
"Would you like some more toast?" he'd prompt her. "Or more cherries, perhaps?"
He had even removed his mask and ate with her, which pleased her to no end. They lingered over breakfast for so long that she realized she was going to be late for rehearsals.
"Oh! Erik, I really have to go! But this was so lovely, thank you so much," she kissed him on the forehead.
He went to escort her to the door, hoping to hurry her by the living room. Still, she happened to glance inside.
"Erik!" she fretted. "I thought you returned all of that!"
She turned her dismayed look towards him and he cringed, suddenly sulking. She wanted to stay and continue the conversation, but realized that breakfast had taken so long that she no longer had time to do so.
"Did you make that big breakfast to distract me from the fact that you didn't return the tree?" she narrowed her eyes at him.
He pointedly refused to look directly at her.
"Erik, if I find out that's the case, I'm going to be very cross with you. Very cross!"
A look of true panic streaked across his face.
"We will finish this discussion when I return from work," she told him as she left.
Her mind was on the stolen items currently residing in her home all throughout rehearsals. During their lunch break she was so nervous over it that all she could stomach was a cup of tea.
"Did you hear about what happened in the market square?" Meg asked.
Christine broke out into a cold sweat.
"You mean with the tree?" Jammes said.
Was that an oily spot on Christine's face? She leaned close to the mirror, violently dabbing powder over her already exceedingly powdered face.
"Yes," Meg nodded. "What kind of a monster steals a Christmas tree?!"
Christine choked on her tea.
"Excuse me!" she squeaked and ran from the room.
Somehow she made it through the rest of the day. Erik was not there at the entrance to the tunnels, nor was he anywhere in sight when she arrived in their home. The tree steadfastly remained where it was when she had left. She sighed.
"Erik?" she called out. "Where are you?"
She finally found him behind the closed - and locked - door to his former bedroom, the only clue to give him away was the simple melody he plunked out on the organ keys, sad and slow. She knocked on the door.
"Erik, do you want to come out?"
"No."
"Why not, love?"
"I am busy. I am composing."
She leaned against the door.
"I know you aren't composing, Erik - that's the same song you always play when you're sulking."
The music stopped for a moment, and he resumed the same tune - except this time in C major instead of A minor, and with a slightly faster tempo.
She pushed herself off the door, shaking her head. Her husband was absurd - she loved him, but he was absurd.
She wandered back into the living room, sitting on the couch and examining the decorations. It was still very lovely, even hidden away down here... Outside it had seemed rather small, but indoors it dominated the entire room, overwhelmingly... Christmasy. It was rather nice. If she just overlooked the fact that it was stolen, really it was a sweet and touching gesture on his part... Had it not been stolen.
But it did smell so wonderful, and he had lit the tiny twinkling candles. It looked like a drawing in a book of fairy stories. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Heavenly.
There was a small noise at the doorway. She looked behind her. Erik had entered the room, his molded mask firmly in place, and was examining the books on the bookshelf. He'd take one down, stare at it, then put it back on the shelf. He continued that until he eventually made his way closer to Christine. He dared a glance in her direction. She was watching him.
"Is Christine very cross with Erik?" he finally ventured.
"No," she shook her head.
"Ah. Perhaps, then, she is only cross and not very cross at him?"
"I'm not cross with you, Erik, I'm only cross at the things you do sometimes," she patted the space next to her on the couch. "Come sit down with me and we can talk it out."
He stiffened, and continued his charade of looking for a book to read. She waited for him to finish his sulking, which happened eventually when he gingerly sat on the very edge of the couch as far from her as he could manage.
"Closer," she urged him, patting the cushion once again.
With a sideways glance he scooted a little closer.
"Come here," she coaxed, reaching her arms towards him.
Finally he broke and sat next to her, resting his face on her shoulder. She put her arms around him.
"There, that's much better," she said.
"Are you really not cross with me?" he asked in a small voice.
"No," she sighed. "I was earlier but I'm not anymore."
He nodded.
"Why don't you want to return the tree, Erik?"
"Because- because Christine loved the tree, and she went to the market square to see it, and then she said she wanted to decorate, and she knows Erik can't shop for decorations like- like a normal man, but I just wanted- Erik just wanted to do something that made Christine happy, but instead he has only made her cross," he sniffled. "He didn't mean to, but I- he thought that maybe when Christine wasn't cross with him anymore that she would realize she did actually like the tree and would be glad it was there... Because then that would mean that Erik did something good after all..."
His voice grew so quiet towards the end that she had to strain to hear him, and her heart melted at his confession.
"You are very sweet, Erik, and I love you," she gently moved to slide his mask off, and he allowed her to do so. "What you tried to do was very thoughtful and I appreciate it. But- you do understand why I was upset, don't you?"
"Yes," he said absently. "I understand. It can be very disorienting to find a tree inside the house, when you expect it to be outside in a forest instead."
She cleared her throat.
"Oh, and I suppose- I suppose because technically the tree belonged to the market square... Even though the market square isn't really a person, you know, so it's not like the tree was even stolen from an actual person, but nonetheless Erik supposes it was meant to stay in the market square... Even though it wasn't tied down very well and anyone could have walked off with it at any time, you see. Perhaps- perhaps that might have had something to do with why Christine was upset."
Christine raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, perhaps," she replied evenly.
"Do you really wish for Erik to return it?"
Christine hesitated. She knew what she should tell him, what she already had told him.
He nestled his face into the crook of her neck, putting his arms around her.
"Erik wants to make it better. He will return it this time, Christine only has to say the word and he will do it, truly. Tell Erik how to make it better, please... Tell me..."
She kissed the top of his head, hugging him tightly.
The next afternoon she took some of her gifts to her friends up above.
Meg was delighted with her box of butter cookies and and a sparkling hair ribbon. Madame Giry was very appreciative of the tin of candied fruits and the warm scarf. They each had something for her, too - the latest book from her favorite author and a new hat. They exchanged their gifts over tea and idle gossip.
"Say! Remember about the missing tree?" Meg piped up.
Christine found it difficult to swallow.
"I hear they got a new one," Meg continued.
Madame nodded.
"I've seen it, it true. It's much taller this time," she added.
"Perhaps that's for the best," Christine said absently, trying to not feel like she was floating away from herself. "I- I'm glad they have another tree."
"I still wonder what happened to the old one," Meg sighed.
"Oh, I don't think we'll ever know the answer to that," Christine replied hastily, waving a hand in the air. "Things vanish into thin air all the time, you know."
"I suppose so," Meg nodded.
Christine was quite tired by the end of the day. After a quick stop in the kitchen, she made her way into the living room, finding Erik there already, sprawled out across the couch reading a book. She smiled at the sight of him.
"How was your day, my dear?" he asked as she sat across his lap.
"It was good. I brought you some eggnog," she handed him a glass. "Did you know that the market square actually put up another tree?"
"Is that so?" he set his book down thoughtfully.
"Don't get that look," she warned him. "One tree is quite enough, thank you."
She looked over at the lovely tree in their living room. It did look so beautiful there, surrounded as it was by all the garland and the matching wreath. So festive and bright. She sighed happily, taking a long drink of her eggnog.
"Would you like to open your present, Erik?"
"Oh? A present for Erik?" his eyes lit up. "Yes, my dear, I would like that very much."
She got up and retrieved a medium sized package from one of her paper bags. She sat back down next to him, handing him the box.
He held the box for a moment, admiring the dark blue wrapping. He opened it carefully, finding a pair a slippers inside - soft leather on the outside with a firm sole and the inside lined with the softest wool.
"I know you get cold so often, and I thought these would be wonderful for times when you don't want to wear your shoes but it's too cold out," she told him.
"They are wonderful, Christine. You are so thoughtful towards your Erik," he kissed her cheek.
She squirmed happily in his embrace. Little did he suspect that she actually had several more gifts for him as a surprise on Christmas Day. He certainly wouldn't be expecting it. Onyx cufflinks, a fancy knife to add to his collection, new pajamas, a box of cookies shaped and frosted like animals, an expensive red wine, and a new set of quill pens with two jars of red ink. She could barely wait.
He sighed a little wistfully.
"Is something wrong, love?" she murmured.
"Christine has bought such a good present for Erik, but he still doesn't know what to get for her," he sounded worried.
"You don't have to get me anything else, dear - you already got all of the Christmas decorations, you know."
He perked up.
"So- so Christine does love the tree? Even here?"
"I do," she admitted.
"Erik has done a good thing? Christine is happy because of him?"
She paused. She was probably teaching him a terrible lesson in all of this, and she dearly hoped that it wasn't something that would come back to bite her in the future.
"I am very happy, yes. You make me happy every day, you know. And I do love the tree and the decorations, and they make me happy too - but Erik," she tried to be firm. "Stealing does not make me happy. Please do remember that for that for the future."
"Of course," his quick reply was grave. "I will remember."
He thought about it for a while. He still wanted to get her something - she insisted she needed nothing else from him, but she had gotten him something, and she had already given so much beauty, such gracious kindness to a dog like him and yet still she bought him a gift and continued to give to him. It was too much for him, sometimes. He had to get her something. But what? And surely it had to be purchased this time - he certainly didn't want a repeat of what had happened with the tree. He would have to arrange through Madame Giry to have the gifts bought. Perhaps a golden necklace - it would look so lovely with her hair. If he got her a necklace, he would have to get matching earrings, too, obviously. She could certainly use a new coat. And what was the point of a new coat without a beautiful new dress to wear under it?
He smiled to himself. His beloved would never see it coming - it was the perfect plan. He'd let her think that he hadn't gotten her anything else besides the decorations, and then she'd be supremely surprised come Christmas Day. He'd tell Madame Giry tomorrow and soon all would be set.
But for now he was content to simply sit and bask in the glow of the lights on the tree and in the love of his little wife. She was cuddled close to him, lost in her own thoughts and gazing with starry eyes at the tree.
He had never celebrated the holidays before Christine, but he could certainly get used to this. And he had been wrong about the market square before, when he had seen Christine off as she went to see her Mama. The decorations were pretty great, after all.