Chapter Four: On the Rooftops Above
She had finally gotten him settled onto the couch where she could keep a careful eye on him. He'd fallen asleep almost immediately, though begged through his wariness that she stay with him for a bit. Christine had smiled down at him and stroked his hair back lovingly, placing a soft kiss on his forehead.
That had been some hours ago and now she woke to find him gone. She had not meant to fall asleep, but sleep had come to claim her when she sat tiredly into a chair, meaning to watch over him as he slept.
Christine stood and walked quickly through the house, calling his name and receiving no response. At last she noted the missing cape from its usual place. She frowned and grabbed her own cloak, draping it around her shoulders, and hurried upward toward the surface, leaving a short, scribbled note in case he returned to find her gone.
He was where she thought he might be: on he opera house's roof. He sat with his back pressed to a large statue, one knee pulled up to his chest and his arm resting upon it, bare hand dangling limply there. His eyes were distant as she came closer, whispering his name.
Erik turned, startled, but no anger came as once might have. Only a soft expression of complete adoration and love. Then his lips turned downward. "My dear, you shall catch your death!" he murmured.
"It's not raining anymore," Christine pointed out.
"True, but the cold lingers." Erik hopped down from his perch and held a hand out to her. She took it willingly and felt herself being pulled into his strong arms and against his broad chest. She sighed contently.
"Erik," she breathed.
"Yes?"
"You're warm."
He gave her a questioning look and she pulled away, her hand reaching upward to his face. "My word, Erik!" she gasped. "Oh I knew I should have gotten you to change from those wet clothes before you fell asleep."
He smiled down at her, kissing the top of her head. "I don't believe either of us had a choice in the matter."
"Did you dream?"
"Yes."
"What about?"
Erik sighed. "Don't ask me that, my love. Please."
"Let's go back down," she whispered, pressing her cheek against his chest. "You need sleep and I'm certainly no opposed to it either."
"It's nearly morning, love."
"So?" she asked with a smile. "We'll sleep the day away if it so pleases us. No Gypsies. No nightmares. No worries. Just us." She sighed. "And that blasted fever of yours we'll have to get down. You told me once that you had naturally good health other than the trouble the morphine caused."
"I do!" Erik responded. "Most of the time…"
"Well, you have to get well quickly."
"Why's that?" he murmured as he pulled her close to him, starting down the stairs.
"Because we promised Madeleine that we would have her for tea and we can't very well do that if you're ill."
He smiled. "Now there's an idea…"
Christine groaned dramatically before giving into a laugh. "You, sir, are impossible!"
"Christine!"
Christine turned to see Meg running towards her, down the hallway of the opera house. "Hello there!" she greeted cheerfully.
Meg put a finger to her lips, silencing her friend. "The old lady!"
"What?"
"I've seen her here! The one that spoke to Erik so funny the night before last."
Christine stared at her smaller friend, eyes locked. "Here? At the opera house?"
"Yes! She came up to me this morning, asking me where she might find you and Erik. I've been looking for you since she came, to warn you. Where were you yesterday?"
"I have the time off," Christine reminded her.
"Well, yes, but you always come up."
"We… Oh Erik got himself sick, giving me his cape and all, and then he went straight to sleep once we returned home. I've been trying to get him to lie down and drink that foul stuff he's always shoving down my throat when I'm sick."
Meg giggled at this, but then her face turned serious. "Perhaps you should both lie low for a few days?"
"I'll ask him what he thinks best," Christine responded. "I should get back. Have a good day and keep an eye out for me, won't you, Meg?"
"Of course!"
As Christine disappeared down the hall and through a secret door, she did not notice the eyes that followed her. They trailed her movements until the secret panel clicked shut, and then the old woman was gone.
A/N: Just a warning to all: my "t" button isn't working well. Forgive me if a lot of words get cut off because of it. I've been trying to catch it, but I'm not succeeding.
Golden Lyre:Yeah… kinda creepy. And ya know, I picture her creepier in my head than I've yet to describe. :shivers:
Mariah:Well… considering most of my stuff does not come from the original Phantom of the Opera book, but from the ALW productions and the book by Susan Kay, cannon may not be what you get with me. Lol. I was going to go one of two ways with Raoul, with no real middle ground. I was either going to kill him off because I really can't stand him in the book, or I was going to give him someone to keep him occupied so he wouldn't stalk Christine. While it would be another bit to the story, that would get really old really fast, I think. For this story anyway. I'm really not going to say yes or no on the question about the old woman being the lady Erik learned from, because wasn't she ancient when he met her? And that would have been forty-some-odd-years before… But if you would like to picture her as such, feel free. It's open to the reader's imagination for now. And you'll have to see why this old lady's bugging him. She's quite persistent, ne? hehe…
