No words passed between them as the carriage rolled through Paris. Meg was tired and grateful that Erik did not seem to expect conversation. She knew she ought to have gone home, to be there for her mother in case she woke in the night. But where Erik was concerned, she threw all caution to the wind.
Meg jumped when he suddenly banged on the carriage roof, bringing them to a halt. Erik unfolded his long limbs, like some shadow spider, and slipped out the door. She hesitated, trying to see past him into the late night gloom. Erik leaned back in and offered his hand, assisting as Meg hopped down onto the cobbles.
"The Bois?" she glanced around with a grimace. "Let's not walk too far please."
Erik smiled thinly but said nothing. He took her hand and let her into the park. It was not entirely deserted at that late hour, but the Bois always had a different feel to it after nightfall. They had been walking for several minutes without pause, Erik walked with purpose, almost dragging Meg along; he must have had a destination in mind.
"I hope it is not much farther." Her internal voice was excessively whiny tonight.
It was dark off the path. Meg glanced around her, seeing little and hearing less over the rush of water. Erik finally halted in view of the Grand Cascade; at least Meg assumed it was the waterfall.
"Do you not like it?" Erik released her hand, looking down at her expectantly.
"I am sorry, Erik. I cannot see particularly well in the dark."
He took her hand again and led her a few feet further, to the base of a large oak tree, where a lovely picnic came into view.
"This is for us?"
"For you." He murmured, guiding a bewildered Meg to a spot on the worn blanket. He glanced at her shyly, and then sat to light a small brass lantern.
"It is.." she settled her skirts around her. "It is remarkable, Maestro." Meg took in the simple spread; the old blanket, brown basket and the lantern that she recognized from the prop room. Erik smiled nervously, pulling two glasses and a bottle of wine from the basket.
Meg startled at the POP! of the cork and laughed nervously. Erik poured them each a glass and Meg took a sip before she could tear up. It was uncharacteristically thoughtful of him. How much did she really know about his character though?
"This was not necessary."
"You prefer skulking around your dressing room or me climbing through your bedroom window?"
"We are still skulking." Meg glanced around at the dark park. It must be nearly midnight.
"Perhaps." Erik conceded with a chuckle and took a long drink of his wine. Meg half watched as he laid out the food he had brought, his fingers were long and graceful. She blushed at the thought of how they might feel against her cheek.
"It is not much..cold meats, some cheese. But it is rather late for a large meal." There was a note of apology in his words.
Her stomach growled with anticipation and she laughed uneasily. "It has been several hours"
"Then this is well timed." Erik smiled.
They ate in companionable silence; rather, she ate most of the meal while Erik picked at his food. He chose to study the depths of his wine glass, perhaps divining the future.
"Do you ever eat?" she blurted.
Erik looked up startled, as though he had forgotten where he was.
"Do I eat?" he repeated. "Not with any regularity, I suppose."
Meg drained the rest of her glass, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin. The wine had warmed her belly and the warmth spread pleasantly through her limbs, filling her with a courage she did not usually possess. Erik refilled her glass.
"Thank you."
She tried to hold his gaze, so he could see her gratitude, for the wine, for the meal, for thinking of her. But he seemed nervous; his topaz eyes avoided her, looking everywhere on the blanket but at her. Meg was not surprised; he was often shy and hesitant with her, but it had been more like a new friend, learning to connect with someone. This felt like something more.
Meg took another sip of her liquid courage. It was time for boldness.
"Are you courting me?"
"What?" his voice was sharp.
"Are. You. Courting. Me." Meg enunciated slowly, watching what she could see of his expression beneath the mask. She had his attention now, the full power of his stony gaze burned into her. Her insides squirmed, desperate to avert her eyes but no, she would stand her ground.
"Do you wish to be?"
"I had hoped to be." She said softly. "But I am not foolish enough to believe that you would."
"Can Erik not court a lady of his choosing?"
"The lady of Erik's choosing is beyond all reach."
Erik seemed to deflate at that and drained the rest of his glass. How much had they had? She felt pleasantly muddled and her immediate surroundings looked fuzzy.
"I am not and cannot be Christine."
"Cricket." He took her hand, squeezed it gently. "I do not want you to be Christine. You could not be her if you tried. No more than Christine could have been you. I .." he swallowed hard. "I care for you, because of who you are. Not through any desire for you to be someone else."
Momentarily speechless, Meg rubbed her thumb across the top of his hand, and then returned to her wine glass. The silence was too heavy for comfort.
"Tell me a story, Maestro." Meg's voice was light, trying to lighten the mood.
"Surely you know all my stories now."
"Oh please." She pouted her lips. "You just do not want to tell me."
Erik raised his hand in surrender. "Please do not pout. I cannot bear it." He emptied the bottle into their glasses and put it in the basket.
"What was Persia like? Do they love art? Was there music?"
"Of course they have music. They are not savages." Erik scoffed. He gazed into the darkness for a moment, considering his words. "I was acquired for the Shah but I spent most of my time devising amusements for his mother. Life is very different there; women are cloistered and veiled, not often seen. The Shah's court was vibrant and opulent with a darker underbelly, much like any European court. Though it is a wondrous place to see, I would not suggest you travel there alone."
She shivered in spite of being full of wine and Erik grabbed his cloak, wrapping it about her shoulders without prompting. Meg gave him a shy smile of thanks.
"I could travel there with you?"
A second bottle of wine came from somewhere, probably the basket, but Meg suspected she was too drunk to be certain.
"Erik cannot – I cannot return there." He corrected. "Unless I have a wish to die."
"Are you going to tell me why?"
"Are you always so insufferably curious?"
"Why do you ask a question you clearly know the answer to?" Meg had another sip of wine. It was beginning to taste just like fruit juice. "I am envious of you." She sighed from the bottom of the second bottle.
"Envious?" Erik snorted, perhaps not quite as drunk as she was. "No one is of envious me, Cricket."
"You have been so many places, seen so many things, how could I not? I've barely been out of Paris."
"You wish to see more of the world?"
"Of course I do." She said fervently. "But I probably never will."
"You will, Cricket. I promise you that." Erik brushed a curl from her face, tucking it behind her ear. Meg tentatively reached up to touch the mask, waiting for him to explode into rage, but he only watched her with curious eyes. She traced its cool contours, the bridge of the nose, the curve of a cheek, features she knew he did not have so much of. Her fingers slipped beneath the bottom edge and she was vaguely aware of pulling it away.
Erik stilled her hand, watching her anxiously. After a moment, he found his resolve. With a shaky breath, Erik pulled the mask from his face and tossed it to the blanket, leaving him bare faced before Meg for the second time in his life.
He clenched his hands while Meg studied him intently. It was not a pretty face that she devoured, but once again, it did not seem to trouble her.
Meg nodded to herself and leaned in closer, the smell of wine wafted around them. They had both drank entirely too much. She laid chill hands upon his cheeks and cupped his face in her hands. Without giving him time to react, Meg pulled his lips to hers.
"She is kissing Erik. How is she kissing Erik? Why?!" Erik's heart tripped into a gallop with his panicked thoughts. "Why is that a problem?" It was not a problem; Erik's arms slipped around her, pulling her closer. He wished desperately to be more practiced at kissing. Sensing his fear, Meg was patient; planting soft kisses at the corners of his mouth as he struggled to take a full breath. He turned to meet her lips again, kissing her more deeply as his courage grew. He thrilled at the soft sigh that escaped her.
Emboldened by her desire, Erik pushed her gently to the blanket, gathering her against him and captured her lips again. They clung to one another until his jaw ached with the unaccustomed activity. He ran his lips along her cheek, burying his fingers in her hair, kissing her neck. Sharp pain pricked his back, but not unpleasantly, and he groaned when her nails dug into his skin. Her hands were hot, branding him, setting him afire.
"Erik would gladly burn for Cricket."
"Erik." Her ragged whisper nearly broke him. No one had ever wanted him in this way, or any way. He ached to bring them closer but not outside, like animals. This goddess deserved more than a public garden after dark. Her hands seared a trail down his back and up his sides, marking every inch of him that she could reach. Erik moaned against her throat and she arched, pressing hard against him.
He needed her. They needed one another. Erik nipped at her and murmured against her skin.
She froze beneath him and he froze with her. Her eyes were wide and dark with passion but her only movement was the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she caught her breath.
"Cricket, did I hurt you?" he asked, panicked.
Pain contorted her face and she suddenly shoved him hard to the blanket. Meg scrambled to her feet and stumbled away from him.
"Cricket – where are you going?" his voice full of bewilderment.
"Do not follow me, Erik." Meg's cracked reply drifted back.
"What have I done?"
"I will not be Christine's stand in. Not for Raoul and certainly not for you."
"That is not what I want you to be. And what do you mean for Raoul?" he spat. "I told you that I care for YOU. Do you not believe me?"
"Then do not call her name while you are with ME!" Her shriek broke off in an anguished sob.
Erik sat motionless as he watched her recede into the darkness, longing to reach out for her but frozen, unable to go after her. He should go, go! To beg Cricket's forgiveness and make certain she made it home safely. Instead, Erik grabbed his mask, turning it over in his hands.
"Erik has been a fool." He whispered, securing the mask over his face.
He tried to draw on the strength the mask and the Phantom persona gave him but it was not there. The sky had blushed with the early dawn light before Erik could leave the wreckage of the dream.