Chapter One: Your Slightest Look
The dawn crept slowly over Paris, that magnificent old city, its fingers reaching through the upper windows of the Opera house. Yet down below, ensconced in their own private world, two bodies lay entwined ignorant of the morning. Soft sighs of contentment gently touched the black silence, and then a small animal jumped up onto the bed, startling its occupants.
"What the-" Erik gasped as he bolted upright, before realization came to him. "Ayesha."
Christine, still lying down and out of Erik's eyesight, rolled her eyes. She heard the loud purring that signaled the cat's contentment, and decided not to say a word.
The cat had tried, mightily Christine was sure, to show her displeasure of this woman she thought to be an interloper in her only relationship. Though Christine would still at times swear that the cat had positively human attributes, she knew that to say something would only bring on an argument she was not willing to bring on. Although at one point, Erik had figured out that she was a bit jealous of the cat, and it gave him a good deal of mirth.
~~~~~
"She has it in for me, I swear!" Christine muttered after yet another encounter with Ayesha. She'd been thanking her lucky stars that Erik was not within earshot, when the voice called out from right behind her.
"Who has it in for you?"
Christine spun around, still holding her hand where she'd been scratched by the cat, to face her husband.
"Nothing. I was merely . . . talking to myself."
With his usual concern, Erik looked down at the way she was holding her left hand, and grasped it within his larger one. He turned it over and saw the scratch. Without a word, he led her to the kitchen table and had her sit down in one of the chairs, then he took what he needed from one of the cabinets, and tended to the wound.
"She's really not that hard to get along with," Erik said softly as he finished with his ministrations. He stood to put the leftover supplies back into the cabinet.
"That's because you're not a woman. She's utterly protective of you, Erik, to a fault, and she seems to think there's not enough room for two females here."
Erik's back stiffened for a moment, and then he started shaking uncontrollably.
At first, Christine did not understand, and she shot up from the table and tried to get him to face her. He refused to turn at first, and her worry deepened.
"Erik, what's wrong? Please, talk to me, look at me, anything!"
Finally, unable to allow her to worry anymore, Erik turned to face her, and she saw at once that there was no look of pain etched on his face, but another look instead. A look she'd seen from time to time, but never to this extent. Then she realized he was shaking because he was laughing, but trying not to laugh out loud.
"You think it's funny!"
After a few moments of uncontrolled mirth, Erik finally stopped laughing and walked over to where Christine had stalked to. "You have to admit, you being jealous of a cat is a little ridiculous."
"I am not jealous. I was merely stating a point."
Without another word, Erik drew her resisting form into his arms, and then lowered his lips to hers. A moment passed where she tried to remain hard to his embrace, and then she softened, and threw herself into the kiss.
When he drew back, her eyes were crossed with passion. "Now, have I ever kissed Ayesha like that? You have nothing to be jealous of."
Christine's eyes uncrossed, "But I'm not jealo-"
Erik's lips descended again, cutting off her argument, and then he lifted her off the ground, and carried her to the bedroom, where all argument ceased.
~~~~~
A smile played around Christine's lips as the rest of the memory played in her mind. It had been a wonderful way to spend the afternoon.
Erik lay back down beside his wife, his arm wrapping itself around her middle and spooning her to him as he gently kissed her bare throat. She squirmed slightly, and took in a sharp breath of surprise, a breath which quickly turned to a soft mewling sound as Erik continued to rain kisses along her throat. Finally unable to stand any more, Christine turned to face him.
"Good morning mon amour," he whispered softly.
"Bonjour mon ange," Christine replied, her lips then seeking out his for a proper good morning.
An hour later, both replete by the morning's activities, finally made their way out of the bedchamber and into the rest of the lair.
"No practice today," Erik teased, "Whatever will you do with yourself for the next month?"
"Well, we're leaving for Rouen in two days, right? Making sure everything here is in order before going then."
Erik chuckled as he drew Christine close once more and placed a peck on her lips.
"And besides Erik, I'm sure you have things that you wish to occupy yourself with until we go."
"Yes, I do, well, one thing actually."
"And that is?"
"You."
Christine smiled brightly.
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"Well, it's about time!" Meg teased lightly as Erik and Christine made their way into the small café where Meg insisted that they meet for dinner at least every other week. This week, she had brought her mother along, and the ballet mistress smiled gently as the married couple sat themselves at the table.
"I'm sorry, but we were unavoidably detained Meg," Erik replied, a smile playing around his exposed lips.
"Yes, someone decided to take the long way here," Christine chided.
Erik glanced around the café, his eyes scouring the other patrons in an age old habit of alertness to his surroundings. Neither Erik nor Christine had failed to notice the stares as they made their way in, but such happened every time they stepped out into public, except for backstage at the opera, where Erik's countenance was now just another face in the crowd.
"Wouldn't you say Erik?"
Erik's head snapped back to his dinner companions as Meg's voice cut through his thoughts. "I'm sorry, what was that?"
Meg shook her head, they repeated much the same scene every time for the first twenty minutes or so before Erik readjusted to his surroundings and started to relax a little. "I was just saying that when we come back from break, that we're supposed to begin a run of Aida and I thought that it was a good choice to begin the new season."
"An excellent choice," Erik agreed readily as he glanced towards his wife, who was smiling up at him. The memory of her in the wedding dress as they practiced the Terra, Addio had a new meaning to them now, as being part of the catalyst to them finally revealing their feelings to one another. "I've always said though that the final scene really should be performed in a wedding dress."
"That would actually work!" Meg exclaimed with excitement, "Why don't you suggest it to Messieurs Firmin and Andre after break?"
"You forget Meg," Madame Giry interrupted, "That though we know of Erik's background in music, the managers most certainly do not."
Meg looked to her mother, thoroughly chastised, "I didn't mean tell them as Erik, Christine's husband, I only meant . . ."
"Leaving them a note?" Madame Giry answered.
"As the ghost," Erik elaborated.
"Yes Maman, Erik, exactly. You've noticed they've started listening when he does that, haven't you?"
Christine chuckled, "Well, I'm sure there are reasons they've started listening, like the fact they've finally had to admit to themselves that he knows more about music than they do!"
The other three occupants of the table turned in shock to face Christine, and it was finally Madame Giry who choked out, "And when did they do that?"
"Shortly before Christmas, I overheard them when they were trying to find a temporary replacement for Meg and I. Oh, don't give me that look, Erik, you've eavesdropped on them enough times, and on Poligny and Debienne for years before that, what's so wrong with me listening in once, and it wasn't as if I meant to do it, I just happened by the conversation."
Erik shook his head ruefully, "I've been a bad influence on you, I seem to remember a time when you were absolutely abhorred that I would eavesdrop."
"Well, that was . . ." Christine trailed off, blushing brightly, "different."
Erik laughed softly, and took Christine's hand in his, "And I wonder how else I have influenced you?"
"All for the good my love, I assure you," Christine answered before turning back towards their companions, her brow furrowing as she saw the expressions on their faces. Meg's eyes were nearly popping out of their sockets, and Madame Giry's face was fraught with anxiety, both of them with their eyes trained on the doorway.
Erik noticed the silence at the same time Christine did, and they both turned to face the door at the same time.
'We're going to have to find another place to meet then,' he thought as he saw what had led the others to turn so sharply.
"He's back," Christine whispered, hoping no one heard her as she stared at her childhood friend.
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The rest of the dinner had been a quiet and strained affair as the four occupants of the far table tried not to mention the man who had re-appeared into their lives after a four month absence. All of them sincerely had hoped that even though it was obvious they had been seen by the Vicomte, that he would not come to join them.
Thankfully, he had not. Instead, he sat on the opposite side of the room, though his eyes never left the table in the corner.
Christine watched Meg through the meal as the only way she could see Raoul was as a reflection in her friend's eyes. Meg kept glancing towards the table on the other side of the room where Raoul was sitting, as she alternatively blushed or smiled gently. A thought occurred to Christine, but she quickly shook it from her head as they finished their dinner, and made to leave.
The journey back to the lair was just as quiet as both Erik and Christine ruminated in their own thoughts, Christine's coming back to the idea that had managed to implant itself in her head as she watched her best friend.
"That was . . . rather tense," Erik finally commented as he helped Christine remove her cape and hung it on the coat rack just inside the door of the lair.
"It started out okay," Christine sighed. "Erik?"
Erik turned to gaze at his wife, this beautiful woman who had made his life complete, his body still tense as he rasped out, "Yes?"
Christine covered the space between them and laid a gentle hand on his chest, gazing up lovingly into his eyes, "I love you, you know that, don't you?"
Erik relaxed slightly, and his lips turned up as his eyes alighted behind the mask. "And I you, mon ange."
Her hands reached up and removed the mask that he still refused to leave the house without, and sat it aside before standing on her tiptoes to plant a gentle kiss upon his lips, a kiss that quickly deepened, and before long, they found themselves trapped once more in the maelstrom of passion that was uniquely theirs.
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"Meg?" Madame Giry questioned her daughter as soon as they were comfortably sitting before the fire in their drawing room.
"Yes Maman?"
"I would suggest that we find a new place for these meetings if you keep up your plan with Christine to draw Erik out into the world. Granted, I agree with the both of you, and I know that neither of them holds bad feelings toward the Vicomte de Chagny, but the tension tonight after his arrival can not be good for either of them, especially as they have not been married all that long yet. I had hoped," she paused and sighed, "I had hoped when we had not seen him at the Opera recently that perhaps he had . . . moved on."
Meg frowned, her brown eyes serious as she shook her blonde curls, "I have no intention of putting Erik or Christine through any pain, you must know that Maman. In fact, I rather agree with you, they're not ready for him to just jump back into the picture."
Madame Giry nodded before standing, "Good girl. Now, I'm ready to head to bed, please don't stay up too late darling. I know that we don't have to be at practice early in the morning, but it's not good to get into bad habits you know."
Meg smiled gently up at her mother, "I won't Maman, I promise, I just want to finish this one chapter, and I've only got five pages of it to go, then I'll go to bed."
Madame Giry hugged her daughter gently before heading up the stairs, leaving Meg alone with her thoughts in the dim light.
I would never want to hurt Christine, she's my best friend, and she loves Erik, I know that, but he's so sensitive sometimes, so . . . insecure. I understand why. His face. Maman doesn't know that I've seen, even if it was only that once, when Christine removed his mask at the wedding.
That face! No wonder he wants to hide. I know, it doesn't make a difference to me, I know him to be a gentle soul, but that face is enough to shock anyone. So different from the Vicomte. Such a handsome man, and so . . . one look and you could tell he was deeply in love with Christine. I wonder if she knows he was in Rouen at Christmas? I could never tell her that, never burden her with the knowledge if she doesn't know on her own. I doubt she realizes he was in the nave, she wouldn't have noticed Nadir or I looking back and seeing him. Wouldn't have noticed Nadir's tensing as he realized who was there, ready to protect his friend it seemed. I would have helped. I know Christine cares for Raoul, but it's not the same, she's so . . . so different with Erik than she ever was with Raoul. You can see by one look in her eyes as she looks at Erik just how much she loves that man. She never looked that way with the Vicomte. Goes to show you that looks and money aren't always everything.
And yet, there's something about the Vicomte, something that has just as much attraction power as Erik does. Yes, I can't deny that Erik holds a certain power all of his own. That voice, as smooth as silk, and the commanding stance. But he is Christine's, and I'm glad they found each other.
The Vicomte though, he's a handsome man I suppose, and those eyes. How at times after Christine chose to cast her fate with Erik I would see him around the Opera, that haunted look in his eyes, how heartbroken he was, and how you just wanted to take him to heart and show him . . .
Show him what, Meg? Shake those thoughts from your head, he is still after all in love with Christine, and you? You're just a member of the corps de ballet, beneath his notice.
But he did notice you. What was Christine when he first appeared on the scene? She was still a member of the corps at the time, before Andre and Firmin would promote her to la Carlotta's understudy, then to principal soprano after her accident. He noticed you, enough to ask where his love was. What more would he want from a mousy little girl such as yourself?
Meg shook her head once more and tried to look down on the book in her hands. She closed it with a soft slap and returned it to the bookshelf, then slowly made her way up the stairs to her little room, where she lay in bed awake and immersed in her thoughts until the sun arose the next morning.
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