Chapter Five: Tea
"You've been quiet," Erik's voice sounded in her ears.
Christine turned, eyes finding his. "Have I?"
"Yes. What troubles you?"
The diva took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I saw Meg a bit ago…" she began slowly. She stood and moved to where her husband lay half-reclined on the sofa. He turned his unmasked face slightly away from her out of habit, but she reached a hand around and pulled him to face her again, kissing his cheek softly, her mind reminding her gentlythat only time would heal those wounds. "She said the old woman fromthe fairhas been here… Asking about us. Where to find us and such."
Erik growled something under his breath in a language Christine did not understand. Then he turned back to her. "We have two options, as I see it." She watched him, waiting silently for him to continue, so he did. "Find her before she finds us. Demand to know what it is that she wants, and deal with it accordingly."
"What's the second option?"
A glint of mischief appeared in Erik's mismatched eyes. "We could always reactivate the mirror room and show her the way."
"Erik!" Christine gasped, trying not to laugh. "You shouldn't jest so!"
He smiled and pulled her down to the he sofa, kissing her softly. The kiss deepened and she found herself pinned under him suddenly, his breath warm against her skin as his kisses traced her jaw line. "Who says I jest?" he murmured.
"Ah! You!" Christine grumbled as she pushed him off of her with a mock glare.
He tumbled back, not at all ready for her movement. His eyes were wide as he sat on the floor, staring up at her, unsure of what her actions meant.
His wife's playful gaze softened and she knelt next to him on the ground. "I love you," she whispered as she kissed him again, arms wrapped around his neck.
Erik melted into her embrace and pulled her closer. "And I you," he murmured into her ear.
"Erik?" Christine whispered to him, her voice soft in his ear. "Since you seem to be feeling better, might I beg you for a song?"
Her husband smiled down on her, kissing the tip of her nose gently. "If I could beg for an angel to accompany it."
She beamed up at him and they stood together, Erik replacing his mask. Christine frowned. "Erik… You don't have to," she murmured. "It's just us."
"Habit, my love."
"A habit that could be broken. I don't like not being able to see you when you play. Please."
"You'd rather see the monster's face instead?" the Phantom scoffed, his voice bordering on harsh.
"You know that's not what I mean! Oh hang it all, Erik, you can be impossible sometimes. Leave he bloody thing on if I makes you feel better!" she growled, exhasperaed.
Erik took her up in his strong arms and she fell into his embrace. "My love, just like with he nightmares, you must give me time. My life… All my life…"
"I know," she answered quickly, tears glistening in her eyes. "Can we sing, Erik? Please? It always makes us both feel better."
Music filled the house a few moments later. Music that moved the soul and when their voices joined it they were lost to all else. A gentle wave moved them, lulling them, and Christine felt as if her knees might give way. It was from Don Juan Triumphant. One of the more seductive songs, but which was not out of that play? She felt Erik's eyes on her as she sang, her voice stretching further than she had ever before and filling the house with its strength. When his voice once again joined hers she reached out a small hand to his shoulder, craving to touch him in some form or fashion. Anything, as long as she felt him.
The sound of the organ stopped abruptly and Christine's eyes flew open. Erik was watching something behind her and she turned to see Madeleine standing with her eyes lulling as if she had been pulled into a trance by their voices. Her eyes opened suddenly to their fullness and a blush crept across her cheeks.
Christine was the first to find her voice. "Madeleine! How lovely to see you."
"How on earth did you find your way down here?" Erik demanded softly, mismatched eyes watching her intently.
"Madame Giry showed me the way down," she managed. "I'm sorry to have interrupted. I tried the bell earlier and no one answered, so I sought her out and she brought me down a different path. I thought perhaps no one was here, so I was going to leave a note…"
"About tea!" Christine gasped, realization striking. "Oh dear… I meant to send a note to you!"
Madeleine managed a smile. "No, it's quite all right, my dear. You've been… busy. I shouldn't want to disturb you both."
"You have," Erik snapped, standing abruptly. What was Madame Giry thinking showing her he way down to their home? He'd have a word with the old woman, mark that. He stood seething for a moment.
"Erik!" his wife hissed.
He ignored her as he moved away.
"Erik, please! She didn't mean to interrupt."
"But she did," he grumbled, knowing as he said it how pathetic it sounded, even to his own ears.
"I'm sorry," Madeleine said meekly. "I truly thought you'd both be out. Though, if I might say, you two sing beautifully together. Who wrote that piece?"
"Erik did!" Christine answered cheerfully. "It's his life's work."
"You were always a genius," his mother mused almost sadly. "Might we hear it on stage?"
"A bit of it was performed," Erik answered shortly.
"A bit? How does a bit of an opera get performed?"
Christine smiled. "Well, a bit was performed twice, if you'd like to be more accurate. We had…interruptions both times."
Madeleine, wisely, dropped the subject at that. Instead she turned her eyes onto the main room in which they sat. The Persian rugs, the organ that had been moved from Erik's – now Erik and Christine's – bedroom, the beautiful furniture, the books, and the music monkey in Persian robes. Her eyes finally turned to Ayesha, who was hissing and spatting at her from the back of the couch. The aging woman let out a startled gasp as the cat glared at her, but her eyes softened. "Is she Siamese? I didn't think they had them here after the war." She reached out her hand to the animal. "It's all right. Come here, sweetie. I won't hurt-" Her gentle coaxing was cut short as the cat leapt forward, caught in mid air by her master.
"My dear!" Erik scolded Ayesha lightly and she seemed to look somewhat repentant.
Christine laughed at the interaction. "That cat gets the best treatment in this home than anyone! It could maul someone and all Erik would say was 'My dear!' and all would be well again."
Her husband chuckled at this, setting Ayesha down again. "One would think you were jealous of the cat, my love."
"Jealous… no," Christine answered at length. "For she does not sing for you."
This brought a smile to her Phantom's lips and he forced himself to turn back to Madeleine before his emotions took him captive.
"So when shall we get together for tea?" Christine asked abruptly. "Or should we just say now, since you're here and all? Erik, do you feel well enough?"
Madeleine's eyes turned to look directly at her son. "Well enough?"
"He's been ill," Christine answered, knowing that Erik might not. "Being the gentleman that he is, he gave me his cape in the rain the other night."
"About the tea," Erik cut in, sending a glare towards his wife that made her smile apologetically at him.
"That would be lovely," Madeleine answered with a smile.
"Oh, Madeleine!" Christine said suddenly. "Whatever you do, don't drink the Russian tea!"
"Why not?"
"There's no reason," Erik grumbled. "Christine simply has very little taste when it comes to tea. English tea with sugar… bah!"
This sent Christine into a giggling fit, causing Erik to smile and leaving Madeleine perfectly confused at the private joke between the two lovers. For the couple of brief hours that followed, all was how it should be. But as all know, that can never last for long.
Jo:I always manage to do this… the characters I hate the most, I make likable because I have a highly misguided idea that everyone should be happy in the end, if not dead. :sigh: I'm glad this is original! Something I always strive fore :)
LostSchizophrenic:And more is here!
GoldenLyre:If she left them alone, my plot would go down the drain. Lol! Oh, I wrote the last bit at night, and so when my lights were turned out I half expected to be seeing a creepy old lady with the whole witch works, ya now? Glowing eyes, crazy white hair that would give Medusa a run for her money, crooked nose with a wart or two on it, creepy hands with long pointed nails reaching down to you as you sleep in your bed, her cackling voice making its way into your dreams…. "Double double toil and trouble…" Okay, maybe not. Lol! That's just what I expect to see after writing it, maybe not the whole McBeth flashbacks, but something close to it! Hehe
IndiaPyro: Sure thing.
Lynx Ryder:sobs: where'd you go:looks for you:
