Glad you liked my chapter! I think it got the most reviews I have gotten so far. I love you guys!
I'll answer a question asked several times. Sorry About the Confusion! Why did Erik bring Christine to the opera house when that is the first place Raoul would look?
Erik's original plan was to have Christine heal and then get them a distance away. By leaving several weeks before she was healed, Christine kind of ruined that plan. That is why Erik was hesitant at first to get her out of the manor. Since Raoul is gone, though, and Monsieur Ames has little knowledge of the situation, the lair is safe for the time being. They will only be staying there a short time. It is not permanent! This chapter will explain in more detail.
This chapter is...pretty fluffy. It develops the relationship a lot...but I wouldn't call it pure pink fluff. More like...fluffy conflict.
Through the massive iron portcullis, Erik rowed the small boat forward. Christine sat securely inside, carefully observing her candle lit surroundings. She was so entranced during her first descent down that she did not even remember much of it. To her, the labyrinth was still very mysterious, even if she had come to trust its inhabitant. Though she wished to look around the underground home, she had gotten so little rest in the past few days that exhaustion was quickly overtaking her. As they reached the shore, Erik looked down and saw her beginning to slump over in sleep. Quickly he picked her up, being careful of her half-healed ankle, and carried her to the little bed of the Louis- Philippe room.
She lay limply in his arms, and he held onto her affectionately for a moment before gently setting her down. As her head hit the pillow, Christine murmured "goodnight" and was instantly asleep. He gazed down at her sleeping form as he had done so many months ago. Though her angelic face showed some signs of maturation, she still looked extremely innocent.
An unpleasant feeling washed over him as he remembered what he had planned for that fateful night of so many weeks ago. He wondered if the whole Don Juan performance would have destroyed her. She would have despised him for humiliating her upon the stage, and, frankly, he would have deserved whatever fate he met. Rage and desire had consumed him that day. He had been willing to destroy anything and everything that got in his way.
Sighing, he went into the other room and flung himself into the open coffin. He looked up at the canopy above him and vowed not to bring any more distress upon her, especially after what she had been through these last few weeks. Desire was replaced with a solid contentment. Christine was with him and that was all that mattered. After making sure that the door was firmly shut, he removed the mask and slept fitfully.
Christine awoke late into the next day and immediately sat up and took in her surroundings. The events of the night returned to her, and she felt instant relief. She had come back to a place she thought she would not see again-and at one time had even been afraid to see again. Now, however, it seemed much more of a haven than a prison.
She wondered where Erik was but chose not to call for him, not wanting to be a burden. It was already enough that she forced him to come retrieve her before she had healed, ruining the carefully crafted plan. Even if Erik was somehow thought dead, they could not stay there for long. Raoul likely had no idea of his supposed death and would no doubt come down searching soon. Surely Erik had some sort of plan devised, though. Finally, her door opened a crack and he glanced in at her. "You are awake," he stated plainly.
Christine smiled. "Yes. I slept better than I have in quite a while, despite always being in bed. I cannot wait to get out of this cast." A concerned look came over her face as she thought this through. "How exactly will we go about doing that? I shall have to go back to the hospital for a day."
Erik saw a look he knew all too well as self-loathing hit her face and tried to console her. "Do not worry yourself, Christine. We shall manage. I have secured housing outside of Paris, and we will leave before the Vicomte returns. As far as your ankle is concerned, we shall see how intense the search for you is before deciding what course to take. There is one person here who is aware of my continuing existence, and it may be necessary for you to keep in contact with her."
"Madame Giry?" she asked, remembering the note. He nodded curtly, and there was a short silence. "Erik, how did you manage to get everyone to think you died? When I found out, I..." she choked slightly, the painful memory returning.
He hesitated. It was not that he wanted her to think any more highly of the boy than she had to, but perhaps he would wait until she was in better health to reveal that news. "It was more of a convenient accident, my dear. I shall tell you of it another day. Now, is there anything I can get you? Breakfast? Something to read? If you would like, I can take you out of this room."
The way he quickly changed the subject bothered her, but she willingly left it alone for the time being. "I would definitely like to get out of bed sometimes, but I am fine for the time being."
"Very well. I shall check on you at a later time, then." He left the door open slightly and left. She found herself disappointed that he had departed so quickly.
When not helping her, he continued to plan for their future, organizing the final details of the house and making sure no one became aware of his existence. Occasionally, he sat at the organ and played something not of his own to help himself concentrate. She did not once hear a familiar chord of Don Juan Triumphant ring out. And never once did she see him without his mask, not since at the hospital when she had removed it to kiss him.
Their discussions were short, although he did tell her of the affairs of the opera house. She was interested to hear that rehearsals for Faust had begun with Carlotta and Piangi in the lead roles. On one day, she could hear the couple singing from above, their loud voices seeming to shake the walls of the catacombs. Erik had glanced up from his work in distaste but said nothing. The entire night of Don Juan had more or less been forgotten, as had the incidences of the Opera Ghost. She knew it was unlikely that she would ever perform there again. It would draw too much attention as people recalled the events that surrounded her.
Although more at ease than she had been in quite some time, Christine was also slightly troubled. She had feared this man for so long and now it seemed somewhat ridiculous. He treated her like royalty, giving her what she wished for and speaking no harsh words...but he remained strangely distant. His only touch came when he was handing her an item and their fingers brushed. When he carried her, it was always quickly and with precision-as if holding a glass vase that could not be broken.
This is what she had feared for so long? Did Erik want her as a doll of some sort to admire? She, after all, had been the one to initiate all intimate contact between them.
No. That could not be it. She had read the duet, and it was certainly about much more than companionship. Of course, she had never been extremely clear about what she wanted either. It was only about a year ago that she had stopped believing in the Angel of Music. Christine had grown up since then, though. She knew what she wanted now, and perhaps it was up to her to break the barrier that the duet was meant to break.
It was two days before the night they were to leave. As she often did, Christine requested that Erik carry her to the divan, and he agreed, keeping his eyes straight ahead and his grip on her firm. As he attempted to lower her down, she wrapped her arms tightly about his neck. "You may release your grip," he said softly. Still she did not, though. "Christine?" She looked up at him, smiling, daring him.
With a sigh, he sat down on the divan with her still gripping on, now essentially in his lap. "What are you doing, Christine?"
She realized it was going to be more difficult than she had thought. "Erik," she began, trying to choose her words carefully. "I did not come here solely so you could...take care of me. I have had enough caretakers to last me a lifetime." Christine released her grip but kept her hands on his arms.
He could feel himself tense. After decades of withholding desire altogether and months of withholding desire for her, though, he had become quite skilled at it. "What is it that you wish for then? Please tell me and stop playing childish games."
Now she was frustrated. "That is just it, Erik. I do not want to be a child anymore. You were going to sing that duet with me on stage. I am not completely dull. I know what the song was about."
He looked away from her and spoke bitterly. "Must you keep bringing up that night, Christine? Can we not forget it? Do you wish me to burn the song, Christine? Will that make you happy, my dear?" She knew that she was bringing him toward a more dangerous mood but continued anyway.
"But that is the point Erik! I do not want to forget about it. Was it really your plan for me to come with you and-I told you that I loved you, and I want to be with you. Not the Angel of Music. You." She sighed and rested her head against him, listening to his quickening heart. He closed his eyes tightly and remained motionless.
"You are completely sure of this? Just the fact that you have chosen to stay with me is more than I could have hoped for." His voice shook as he dared to look into her eyes again. "I shall not ask anything repulsive of you."
"I am sure." She gazed up at him, waiting for him to come to her for the first time. Slowly he leaned in to meet her lips softly. She was slightly surprised by the cold porcelain but knew that for now it would have to do. Raising her arms around his thin shoulders, she drew him into her and deepened it. He placed a hand into her curls and titled her head back, allowing his desire for her to course through him again.
Running her hands through his dark hair, she continued to kiss along his covered face. He remained still for a moment and closed his eyes, continuing to hold her close to him. A warmth radiated from her body even in the cold cellars, and her hair smelled of roses. It was pure bliss, and the only thing that brought it to a halt was when he felt her hands gliding dangerously close to his mask. Leaning away from her, he grabbed her hand. "Please Erik," she said softly. "It does not matter. I have kissed you without it before."
"Yes. It was quite dark at the time, though. And... I would appreciate you not making a habit of removing it. Let me have one day without thinking of the monstrosity."
A saddened look crossed her brown eyes. "I will not ever leave, Erik. I love you. Do you believe me?"
"Let me have today without thinking of it," he stated firmly, turning from her. Reluctantly, she kept her hands away from the white object and continued to kiss him as best she could. Finally she came to his mouth and drew him toward her again. He returned it gratefully, relaxing his muscles after the dispute. Finally, she rested her head on his shoulder for breath and felt him run his hands through her curls. "Christine, you are amazing," she heard him whisper, as his long arms embraced her body.
"But there is still so much more ahead," she whispered somewhat seductively. She blushed at her own forwardness and peeked up at him to see his reaction. A look of confusion, followed by disbelief, then fright, and finally wonder crossed his face.
"You know not what you ask, child," he said with a hint of both hope and sadness. Christine did not respond, gripping onto him more tightly.
Erik took a deep breath and quickly got up, making sure he did not injure her leg in the process. With slight hurt, she watched him start to walk stiffly away from her, shoulders straight and arms at his sides. He paused, though, and turned around to face her. "There is another matter to be soon attended to." Though his voice was calm, his golden eyes held a certain amount of fear.
She followed his gaze to the chamber that held the waxen doll.
