And how was I to respond to her admission? Any normal man would be touched and confused, I assumed. It was not customary for young girls to passionately reveal the inner workings of their hearts to the opposite sex, outside of marriage, at the very least. Especially not to men lurking hundreds of feet below the streets of Paris with a penchant for extortion and violence. But then, I can not claim that Christine and I had a traditional and proper relationship, of any nature. It never would be a usual kind of companionship betwixt the two of us. Fate had made that decision. Yet, that evening, as Christine Daae unveiled her feelings of abandonment, loneliness, hope, and I dare say, passion, I was thankful for the unique bond between our two souls, which I sensed so strongly that I might reach out and jerk at the invisible cord. That nearly tangible pulsating rope continually propelled her soul to the twin it sought in my own.
No, I will not believe, that had I never spoken to her through that conveniently-located mirror, had I not assumed the guise of her promised angel, that we would never have irreversibly impacted one another's life. There were many forces in the universe that I had always been more than capable of manipulating to my benefit. However, I had learned from the day I became aware of my appalling visage, the Lady Fortuna remained completely in command. Not even Erik could deny the personal history she had so carelessly scrawled out for my days.
The Lady Fortuna, as described by the Italian Niccolo Machiavelli, did not accept requests in regards to one's preferred destiny. She was the mistress of the game of eternity, molding and altering her subjects at a whim. I could only admire her for her omnipotence, for her meddling in the muck of humanity. After all, had I not relished every deception, threat, and shiver of which I was the catalyst? Power, control over another man is a delicious sin, I think. It was indeed a guilty form of catharsis for one who had never had the option of changing the one 'thing' that would forever brand him an outcast.
But, I must continue, I realize. Often, whether borne of opium or madness, my mind roamed from the museums of memory to the sterile closets of the present. As to my response. . .
Well, I may humbly admit that I had all the tact one might expect from a man who is not in the habit of polite conversation. I did not wish her to perceive just how intensely her final words had affected me, and walked to the edge of the lake. My back would answer her, and not the truth riding the tumultuous waves of my mind. I would not allow her to see that she had just presented me with a gift. My first gift.
"Erik, have I offended you?"
"No," my answer lurched at her.
I could hear the rustle of her sheer dressing gown and the gentle padding of her toes on the chill floor. I did not turn to her, so I was unsure of where she intended to go. "I meant it in kindness." Her voice was alarmingly near. "Erik, you are the only person who cares for me, and I am more grateful than you could ever possibly know."
Tiny ghosts of fingertips alighted on my shoulder, causing me to flinch in disbelief. "And, I want you to know that I want to care for you. I am a child, I realize, and naive, but if you will let me . . .?"
"Yes."
She did not see how my eyes pooled underneath the burden of my mask as I grabbed those spirit fingers in my own and brought her tiny palm to my unmarred cheek. "Thank you, Christine."
I ceased to touch her flesh, but her own eyes maintained our physical intimacy. I saw the flickering candle flames dancing in her pupils, and something else. A question this time.
I would answer her every inquiry, submit myself entirely to her mercy, without an iota of hesitation. For Christine had blessed me with my first present. What was it? What amazing gift began to break the rotting seals enclosing my heart?
Hope.
She had offered me hope where I had always been allotted solitude. It was more than enough. It had to be.