Chapter Eleven: Your Eyes Have Their Silence
"How did it go?" Erik asked quietly as he met Christine outside the café.
"I'm not sure. He seemed so dejected, but I can tell . . . he's in love with her, Erik. I can see it in his eyes as surely as I can see in yours that you love me. I just wish there were something I could do, some way to re-assure them both. I tried with Meg. I tried tonight with Raoul. Oh Erik, it would just be so sad if neither of them took the next step simply out of fear. It would be . . . too much."
"It would be a tragedy, n'est pas?"
"Yes mon ange. It makes me shudder sometimes when I think about what could have been if I'd not had the courage finally to admit that I loved you. Raoul has already lost once, what if he can not find the courage to follow his heart? Or Meg? Oh Erik, what can we do to help them?"
"Ma petite, the only thing I can say now is that we must let nature take her course, as she did with us. Pushing them together if they are not ready will not help matters a'tall, surely you see that?"
She sighed softly, "I do, I just wish . . . I just wish them the happiness I've found with you."
"As do I, Christine, as do I."
@}-----,----- *~*~* -----'-----{@
"We need to talk."
You don't understand Christine. Just as you never had that light in your eyes for me, neither does she. I swear I am destined to love only women who can not reciprocate
Don't throw away the possibility of a lifetime and spend it in regret.
As he looked down into those large eyes, he felt a shimmer of hope. A tiny light shone in them, and he wondered how he'd not seen it before. Then, a small tear trailed down her cheek, and he found his hand reaching up to brush it away.
"This is the moment," she whispered, "where you say it was a fun friendship, but that you are a man of social standing who can not risk being seen with a dancer, n'est pas?"
He shook his head, his voice coming in a whisper, "No, it's not. This is the moment where . . . where I . . ." The words choked in his throat, his thumb rubbing gently across her cheek, following the track of that single tear she'd let escape. "If I were to tell you I'm no longer in love with Christine, that there is someone who . . . who . . . Meg."
"I'm . . . Raoul, I . . ."
"The answer to all my dreams is as close as a touch away," he whispered as he closed the space between them. He heard Meg's breath catch slightly, and prayed he was not overstepping his bounds. "Meg, these past few weeks, they've opened my eyes in a way that a few months ago I'd never have believed possible. What I'm trying to say is . . . I . . . Meg, I've . . ."
"Raoul, I think I understand."
His eyes widened, "You do?"
"Yes," she breathed as a soft smile lightened up her face. A similar smile appeared on his just before he lowered his head to catch her lips in a gently tentative kiss.
She wrapped her arms around the back of his neck, clinging tightly to him, and his heart began to race. It was the signal he needed to deepen the kiss, softly at first, gently so as not to scare her away.
As they finally surfaced, a moment of silence passed between them in which they stood there, still clinging to each other and gazing deep, as though they were both trying to find the other's soul.
@}-----,----- *~*~* -----'-----{@
The day dawned bright as Meg skipped up the steps to the Opera, her heart light. Without a thought, she ran straight to Christine's dressing room, hoping to catch her friend before rehearsals.
"Christine?"
Christine smiled softly as she saw Meg open the door, "You're here early, aren't you?"
"A bit, I had to talk to you before practice."
Christine studied Meg's face for a moment, lingering on her green eyes.
"If you loved someone, really loved someone, but he had been engaged to a friend before, how would you break it to your friend?"
A soft laugh bubbled from Christine's throat, "Am I to take it the two of you have finally talked?"
"What?"
"Raoul, Meg. You're talking about Raoul, are you not?"
Meg blushed brightly, "You knew?"
"I suspected, yes. I could see it in your eyes that you were falling for him when I saw the two of you together in here the other night."
"Oh," Meg whispered. "How do you feel about . . . about . . ."
Christine stood from her dressing table and took Meg's small hands in her own, "Meg, I don't love Raoul, not that way, so don't fret about it. I'm happy that the two of you have found each other. You both need someone to love. Raoul . . . needs someone special and I think that you, my best friend, are more than special enough to hold his heart. You do, you know, hold his heart."
A smile broke across Meg's face, "Last night, Christine, he . . . oh, I didn't believe it was possible, not until that moment he kissed me.
"I could see it in his eyes as he looked at you. He was just as scared as you were, you know."
"He told you?"
"He told me there was someone, he refused to be specific, but he believed, just as you did, that you could not reciprocate his feelings. Oh Meg, I'm so happy that the two of you have talked. I only have one request."
"What is that?"
"That I be the first to know about the wedding, after your mother of course."
"Wedding? Christine, we've not discussed that yet!"
"Oh, but you will, believe me, you will."
"I'm a dancer. He's not said he loves me yet. What would his family . . ."
"He won't care, Meg. He's not that type of aristocrat to care about your social status; he loves you for who you are. Trust in him, Meg, and in yourself. Erase the doubts from your head and give both of you a chance. Oh, I see happiness in your eyes today mon amie."
@}-----,----- *~*~* -----'-----{@
"Come in," Christine called out as a soft knock sounded on her door.
It had been a grueling performance, where so many things had gone wrong. Falling scenery, half the stage lights had gone out during the second act, and then that moment when Annelle had tripped over that piece of backboard that had been left on the stage after one of the props had fallen. All Christine wanted to do was crawl into a hole, but of course, there would be the usual rush of people backstage after a performance.
Raoul poked his head into the door, "Is it safe?"
Christine laughed softly, "I've been wanting to talk to you."
"Should I ask why? After all, I was a bit short with you the other night."
"You did, but I was getting a bit personal where perhaps I had no right to tread. And besides, shouldn't you be visiting someone about now? After that snafu during the ballet chorus, I daresay she needs the company."
An elegant eyebrow arched as Raoul looked at Christine, incredulous.
"Close your mouth Raoul, you look like a fish out of water. Meg spoke with me this morning before rehearsal. I couldn't be more pleased. Wait, I take that back. I'd be more pleased when you tell her you love her and make sure to invite me to the wedding."
"You . . . she . . . my . . . oh. Well then, I
guess I can just forget the little speech I was about to give. How did you . .
. I mean . . ."
"What, how did I know you're in love with her? It's only written all over your face, Raoul. I could see it clear as day when the two of you were in here. The tension between the two of you, and how you tried to avoid eye contact. It's why I asked all those questions of you at the café. I had to know, to be sure. And when you told me you didn't think she could feel the same, I knew you were in as deep as she is. I would be willing to bet you would go to the ends of the earth for her, just as you once ran into the sea to fetch my scarf for me. Raoul, you and I . . . were childhood playmates, as close as brother and sister, and that is a very special type of devotion in itself, but I daresay what you feel for Meg is a more grown up type of affection, the kind that I . . ."
"That you feel for Erik?" Raoul asked softly.
"Yes, Raoul. The kind I feel for Erik."
"You know, I saw the way you looked at him in Rouen. I can only hope that what Meg and I have . . . can be as strong and as true. I think it is. I feel in my heart it must be. Christine . . . I love her."
"I know you do," Christine replied gently. "You should be telling her that."
Raoul nodded, "I'd come to tell you . . . perhaps to get your blessing as a friend to both of us."
"You have it. A hundred fold, you have it. Now go on, she needs to see you."
Raoul smiled, and then he was out the door. Once again, Christine was alone.
She stood before the mirror, taking stock in her reflection, when the mirror opened suddenly before her, and Erik stepped out from behind it.
"So you were right. The boy is in love with Meg."
"Head over heels if I do say so myself," Christine grinned as she wrapped her arms around her husband's neck. "Mark my words; there will be a wedding before the year is out."
"He may well desire to court her for a long time. I've heard aristocrats do that even these days."
"Mmmm, sometimes they do, but . . . I think they are both so much in love that they will want to do something about it, very soon. Erik, I can almost hear Madame Giry now. 'You want to do what?' In that sense, I almost do feel sorry for Meg. I know Madame Giry will be thrilled after the shock wears off, but still, that initial reaction . . ."
"Mon amour, it is not for us to worry about. I'm sure Meg can handle her mother's reaction quite nicely. And, might I also add, a nice bit of matchmaking on your part?"
"Why thank you my love," Christine giggled as she gently kissed Erik's lips.
@}-----,----- *~*~* -----'-----{@
Meg slipped into the door of the home she shared with her mother, later than she'd ever been before. Quietly, she turned the handle so that the door would not make any noise as she closed it.
When
she released the handle, a resounding click rung out in the hallway, and Meg
winced at the sound. Still praying that her homecoming had gone by unnoticed,
she turned around to where her mother stood in the doorway of the foyer, arms
crossed tight over her chest.
"Meg, where have you been? I've been worried sick. You left the Opera
without a word or note to let me know you would be late! I'd begun to fear
perhaps you'd fallen into the Seine!"
"Maman, I . . . I'm . . . I'm sorry."
Madame Giry's lower lip trembled for an instant, but she quickly took control of her emotions as she bore down upon her daughter, "What has kept you out until nearly three in the morning? You know you have early practice tomorrow. What will people begin to think if you continue to keep these kinds of hours?"
Meg straightened her stance, "Does it matter so much? Maman, I'm fine, there is nothing wrong with me."
"Where were you then?"
"I was . . . I was with . . . I . . ." Meg stuttered, her face turning a bright shade of red. "Oh Maman, I'm fine, isn't that enough?"
Madame Giry shook her head, "Meg, what are you hiding? I know you didn't spend the evening with Christine and Erik; you'd have at least left a note if you had. What in Heaven's name is going on with you child? The past few days you've been floating around the place with your head in the clouds."
"I suppose I have," she muttered as she turned to stare out the parlor window. "Oh Maman, have you ever been in love? I mean, really in love? With someone who loves you just as much in return?"
"Meg, I don't . . ."
"Please, Maman, I have to know if you understand what I am feeling right now."
"Meg, what has this got to do with where you . . . oh Meg, no. No."
"Maman . . ."
"Who is he? What has he done to you?"
"Maman . . ."
"Meg Giry, what have you done?"
"Maman, I haven't done anything! I've been completely above reproach, I swear it."
"You've . . . but you . . ."
"Maman, just because I'm in love with someone, doesn't mean we've acted on it," Meg answered softly.
"Who is he, Meg. Where did you meet him? What are his . . . his intentions?"
Meg smiled, "Raoul, Maman, its Raoul."
"The Vicomte?"
"Yes, Maman."
"Meg . . . he's an aristocrat. When they have an interest in a chorus girl, or a ballerina, there is only one thing on their minds."
"Raoul is different, Maman. If you could only just talk to him, get to know him as I have this past month, you'd see that as I do."
Madame Giry shook her head, "Meg, if you just look, I'm sure you will see this as I do. He's only after one thing, Meg, and it's not your hand or your heart."
"You're wrong, Maman," Meg cried. "You're wrong, and I'm going to prove it!"
"Meg!" Madame Giry cried out as Meg wrenched the front door open, but it was too late, for Meg was already out the door, her skirts flying around her ankles as she ran down the street.
@}-----,----- *~*~* -----'-----{@
*Author's Note: Yes, I know it's been a long time since I managed to update. Between writers block, net problems, and a crazy work schedule, as well as various other commitments this holiday season, I wasn't able to finish this as quickly as I would have liked. However, as a Christmas Present to all of you, here is the next chapter. Hope you all enjoy it!
Fireblade K'Chona: If you're asking about my pen-name, it comes from my "other obsession" which is Scarecrow and Mrs. King . . . it's the name of my favorite episode from that show. As when I first started posing on ff.net it was in that fandom, it seemed appropriate to choose a name from my fanfiction start.
Aspen: It would be a little hard to bring back that "I can't have him/her" feel to Christine and Erik now, and I fear I just got rid of that feeling with Meg and Raoul ::: sighs ::: we can't have it all, n'est pas? Guess I'm just going to have to work harder on the "Newlywed spirit" instead.
Midasgirl: I can say the same! I'm hoping now that I've rediscovered "An Everfixed Mark" that there will be an update with lightning speed? Either on that or "The Heart Is Slow To Learn"? I'm hanging on pins and needles for both! As for making Raoul happy . . . you're wish is my command. And in the face of a master like yourself, I feel honored that I wrote your favorite Raoul line ever!
Jstarz927, Aenigmatic, Awoman, and Erin: Well, I've taken care of the cliffie . . . let me know what you thought of the rest of the conversation!
To anyone I may have forgotten or who is reading but has not reviewed: Hope you enjoy this new chapter! And now, time to disappear and work on the next one.
@}-----,----- Stemwinder -----'-----{@
