Tuberculosis is the illness Claire has. OK? So, anyway, thanks for the reviews. They mean a lot to me. Alright, on with the story! Cheers!
The days faded into weeks and the weeks into months. Claire had never been more alone. She had resumed her role as the lead for the final nights of Hannibal and then relinquished the position back to Sorelli. Claire was happy for this. She needed to be out of the limelight. As the endless days dragged on, Claire found her body had begun to grow weaker. She still danced but always collapsed after a rehearsal. This frightened her. She had not coughed up anymore blood since the night in the dressing room but she was certain it would happen again in time.
Every night she would lie awake crying for hours. She hoped that Erik would come to her during those darkest moments but he never did. She was drowning in an eternal guilt. Seeing Madame Giry everyday did not help her situation. She avoided her when she could but at rehearsals she had no choice but to stare at the woman who tore the man she loved away from her. Madame Giry would occasionally send triumphant gazes her way but that was all. They did not communicate much. Meg had also become distant. Maybe it was something her mother had said to her or maybe it was the way Claire had been acting. All in all, Claire had never felt more alone.
The Ball Masque was upon them before Claire knew it. The old year had ended and the new had begun. Maybe this would be her chance to release her mind from the stress that had been clouding it for months. Only the prestigious and elite had an invite to this event. Claire was a first timer, personally receiving her invitation from Monsieur Andre. Her short stint as lead dancer had won her accolades amongst many of the people who had attended the shows she had performed in. Claire could see that Sorelli, also invited, was sore at having to share the spotlight. She pushed all the negativity from her mind and half heartedly picked her outfit out. She knew what she was going to wear.
The evening before the Ball Masque Claire visited a past haunt, the Chapel. She had avoided it ever since breaking off things with Erik. Now she returned to the place where she had first been in his presence knowingly. Nothing had changed. It was picturesque as it usually was; a quiet and serene calm in the air. Claire smiled and sat upon the ground in front of a row of lit candles. The flames seemed to quiver. Claire stared at the dancing shadows on the wall behind the candles.
"You hide behind a mask of fear…I wonder why I'm still here," she sang softly. This was not a song she had heard before; it had just come to her. She continued to hum the tune softly to herself. She did not want to distract any unwanted attention.
"Oh Erik," she whispered, "Are you even there?" The only answer she received was the silent flickering of the candles.
The night was upon them and the whole Opera House was a bustle of activity. Claire and Meg were silently dressing. They had hardly spoken two words to each other since they'd begun preparation for the night that lay ahead of them.
"Meg?" Claire began. Meg looked up from the makeup she had been hurriedly applying to her face.
"Yes?"
"Did your mother tell you anything about me?" Meg turned a deep red and began to nervously play with her hair.
"Of course not!"
"Oh." Claire knew she was lying but did not pursue further questioning. The dress Claire had chosen was the one Madame Giry had given her to break up with Erik in. She did not have a mask. This troubled her but she pushed that thought aside. She secretly hoped someone would be looking for her during this masked event and if she wore one how would he know it was her? Instead, she was heavily applying makeup to mask the dark rings underneath her eyes. She had barely slept the last few months. Meg helped her pull her hair back into an elegant bun. Claire thought it looked horrible, Meg loved it. After adorning themselves with some jewelry they made their way towards the grand ballroom where the main festivities would be taken place. Meg and Claire were both without men on their arms.
Claire had never seen anything like what awaited her upon entering the grand ballroom. Masks were everywhere, all sorts of shapes and colors. The outfits the people wore were equally as outrageous. Claire loved it. She mingled with some people who approached her. They talked for awhile and then a young gentleman offered her his arm.
"Would the beautiful young lady like to dance?" he asked. Claire, thinking of Erik, almost declined. Then, thinking of how things had ended, she decided to accept. The man seemed delighted and whisked her off onto the dance floor. He, like the others, had a mask which he lowered while dancing. He was a handsome man who looked barely twenty. She smiled at him as they moved about the dance floor. After a few minutes of dancing Claire began to feel light headed.
"Excuse me sir," she said, "I need to go…" She released herself from him arms and stumbled towards a corridor where few people were. The world had begun to spin. She felt her knees give out from underneath her. She feared collapsing in front of all these people, but that did not happen. Steady arms caught her and led her towards the corridor she'd been heading too.
"Sit," the voice ordered and she collapsed upon the ground. The world continued to spin for a moment more and then she began to regain clarity to her vision. In front of her was a man, a mask covering most of his face.
"Thank you," she thanked and attempted to stand. The man helped her to her feet. He smiled and offered her his arm. He did not utter a word. Claire turned her head and studied this man. He was familiar and yet…not.
"Alright," she agreed and let him lead her back out onto the dance floor, "But please be careful." The man nodded and they began to dance. Claire felt safe with his man and let him lead her.
"Who is the man behind the mask?" she asked him. He shook his head and continued to lead her in dance. It was almost like making love to him. Suddenly Claire felt guilt overwhelm her. How could she do this to Erik?
"I can't," she pleaded, "I have to go." She separated from him and returned to the corridor she had just been in. Her body was flushed and she felt like a common whore. The man followed. She turned from him. She felt his hand on her shoulder.
"Please do not touch me," she snapped. She felt the hand quickly recoil as if it had been burned.
"Claire." At the sound of the pained voice she turned. She knew who the man was now.
"Erik." He nodded and looked away, ashamed. Claire bit her bottom lip and thought back to Madame Giry's threat. But how would Madame Giry know that Erik was the man behind this mask? With this thought Claire threw herself upon Erik and hugged him tightly. She felt him melt into her sudden embrace.
"It's been far too long," Erik sobbed, "Being apart from you is a fate worse then death." Claire nodded.
"I couldn't see you, I can't," she said, "You have to understand. Your very life is in danger." Erik seemed shocked.
"My life?" he uttered. Claire nodded.
"Madame Giry," she began, "She told me she would tell the authorities if I did not break things off with you!" Erik groaned and brought Claire to his lips. She had wanted this for so long. The moment their lips met she felt herself loose all her inhibitions. She was with her love. Their kiss did not break even as people moved by, commenting on how that sort of display of affection was reserved for the bedroom. Erik's hands were massaging Claire as their kiss deepened. Claire once again found her hands resting place in his hair. Breathless, Erik broke the kiss and stared deep into Claire's eyes.
"I can't continue to live like this."
"I know." Their lips met quickly and then pulled apart.
"Be with me forever," Erik said, "We can leave the Opera House." Claire's forehead crinkled.
"Leave?"
"Yes, leave the Opera House," he reiterated, "I know with this face I can't give you the perfect life but I can at least give you something other then this." Claire frowned.
"But where will we go?"
"I don't care my love, wherever you want to go! As long as you're with me I will be happy." Claire's frown turned into a grin.
"Oh," she cried and kissed Erik again, "When shall we do this?" Erik closed his eyes; he seemed to be deep in thought.
"After the opening night of Ill Muto," he answered, "Then I will give you a home, make you my bride." Claire felt her pulse begin to race. She could not believe what he was proposing to do.
"But you built this Opera House," she began but he stopped her by placing a finger to her lips.
"I built myself a prison," he corrected, "That's what this is to me." Claire nodded and brought Erik towards her.
"Until then," she whispered.
"Until then," he responded. A kiss to the forehead concluded their meeting. He was gone. Claire felt her heart grow heavy with happiness. She was to be his bride. This thought made her smile even wider. Claire moved back out into the grand ballroom where the masque raged on. She glanced up towards the top of the staircase. Madame Giry's cold eyes locked on her own. The world seemed to stop as Madame Giry mouthed the words,
"He will die."
