A/N: Okay, the scene in the last chapter where Paris holds out the note, well, I took the idea from Jude Deveraux's book Laural Mountain, or at least I think that's the name of the book. Anyway, I just wanted to say that it's been used in a well known author's book so I'm not crazy when I wrote that scene. I hope everyone is happy with the way Paris has spoke now. So, enjoy this chapter and remember I only own Paris not the rest.
Paris ran blindly through the dark passageways. She didn't care where she was going anymore just as long as it was far away from Erik. She hoped to find the exit out of the underground labyrinth but nearly an hour of wandering passed and she knew she was lost and so gave up trying to escape. If she died then she died and she hoped Erik was happy with his life now that she would no longer be in it.
Paris continued to wander around now but she had slowed down to a walk. She didn't know how long she had been wandering now but she knew it was quite a while and she was getting thirsty and tired. Finally she sank to the ground in an exhausted heap. She was so tired she couldn't stay on her feet anymore. God, how she wished she hadn't been so rash while running out of Erik's home. She didn't want to die, she wanted to live. Had she run away from an abusive life just to die of a broken heart down in the catacombs of the Paris Opera House?
Curling up into a ball Paris began to cry. After so many years of crying silently she was still in the habit of doing so and so her sobs were silent but filled with pain. As she cried she slowly fell into an exhausted sleep where her dreams were filled with Erik.
Meanwhile, Erik after having spent nearly three hours scrunched up inside his throne while the mob tore his place apart in a mad search for him, finally climbed out of his hiding place when he heard the last of the crowd leave his home. He had heard them shouting for both him and Paris so he knew that Paris had not been caught by them. Stretching the stiffness out of his muscles and neck Erik winced when he pulled the muscles in the shoulder that he had been shot in. He looked down at it and grimaced. He could still feel the bullet inside and he knew he needed to get it out quickly. Sighing, he glanced around at the destruction. He was a bit surprised at how little they had actually done. Granted a lot of his knick knacks had been broken but his furniture was still intact, just shoved around a bit. His Persian wall hangings had been ripped down and his throw pillows had been ripped apart. He had heard the managers tell everyone not to ruin the furniture because they were going to take it and use it for further productions. Erik had growled silently at that. He looked into the kitchen and saw that all his dishes had been smashed and his pots, pans, and silverware had been scattered about.
He sighed as he made his way into the music room. His books had been tossed about and the bookshelves had been pulled down away from the wall. Probably looking for hidden doors, Erik thought with a sneer. He was pleased to see that his musical instruments had also been spared any rough treatment. They were probably also going to be taken up and used in the next productions. The bedrooms were next. Erik saw that they had all been ransacked. Bedding was everywhere as were clothes and the items that had been on the vanities in Christine's and Paris' rooms had been thrown all over the floor. Erik's room had been destroyed the most. His bed had been hacked up, the bedding had been shredded, his clothes had been tossed all over the place and his masks had been broken, cut and some were even burned. Erik felt his heart twist when he remembered his Christmas presents.
Rushing over to the wardrobe he shoved the broken door to the side and nearly wept with relief. They hadn't found the hidden compartment in the roof of the wardrobe. Opening it he pulled out the box that he had put all of the Christmas presents Paris had given him into. Sinking down into a ball Erik pulled out the quilt and began to sob as he wrapped it around himself. Christine was gone but he could get over her. It was Paris that ripped the painful sobs from his throat. He didn't know why it had taken him so long to realize why he could be himself around Paris. He loved her plain and simple. She was always there for him and now, he thought with a sob, she was gone and didn't want to have anything to do with him. Oh God, she could speak and hear! This whole time she had been lying to everyone and they all had been fooled by her! He included. He had told her his most heartfelt secrets believing she couldn't hear him and all that time she could and had never given any indication that she had.
Erik knew he should be angry with her for deceiving him like that but he realized that she had loved him despite what she had heard from him. He had to laugh when he thought about it. He was pretty sure many people had told Paris some pretty big secrets believing Paris couldn't hear them and therefore wouldn't tell them. He had a feeling that once those people realized what Paris had done they would feel pretty stupid for telling her their secrets. His small smile faded quickly when another thought came to him. If some of those secrets were very important those people might hunt down Paris and silence her for good!
Oh God, Erik couldn't let that happen! He had to find Paris and warn her even if she didn't want to see him ever again. Quickly rising to his feet Erik started for the door but froze when pain sliced down his arm from his shoulder. Grabbing the wound Erik knew he wouldn't be of any use to Paris if he collapsed in the streets due to an infection from the shot. He managed to find his medical equipment still intact and so he went into the living room and set to work getting the bullet out of his shoulder.
It was well into the next day when Erik awoke from the sleeping draught he had given himself to dull the pain in his shoulder after he had successfully removed the bullet. He was thankful that he hadn't needed to give himself stitches. He was always a bit weak in the stomach when it came to stitching someone up. Sitting up carefully Erik got up off the couch and made his way into the kitchen bumping his shins painfully a couple of times on moved furniture. He got himself a glass of water and looked to see what was left in his pantry that was still edible. There wasn't much but he found some crackers and a hunk of cheese in the icebox so he made a quick meal of that.
Wincing he stood back up and went back into the living room to check the time. It was already almost four in the afternoon. Erik's eyes widened at that. Paris still needed to be warned about the people that had told her their secrets. Erik rushed to grab a cloak that wasn't too damaged and then he found one of his fedoras. Once dressed Erik took a deep breath and hurried out of his home. He hoped to God that Paris was still in her flat when he got there. He just prayed that the police hadn't gone there and arrested her. Tipping his fedora low over his mask Erik took a deep breath and then stepped out into the streets of Paris, his long strides taking him in the direction of Paris' home.
He managed to sneak inside her flat without any problems. Looking around he didn't know whether to be relieved or worried when he saw that Paris had obviously not returned home the night before. Yesterday's paper was still open on the kitchen table and none of the dishes had been done. The front door was still locked so he could only assume that no one had been by, police or otherwise. So if Paris wasn't here and never had been then where was she? Was she still at the Opera House or had she just run away from Paris completely? God, he hoped she was still in the city. After one last look around, Erik left the flat and hurried back to his underground home. By the time he reached his house, he was exhausted and his shoulder had begun to throb painfully. He knew he had to tend to the wound before he even attempted searching the Opera House.
Erik changed the dressing on the wound and applied a new bandage. Glancing at the clock he knew he was too tired to search the passageways. He just prayed that Paris hadn't gotten hurt or too lost in the catacombs if she was still in them. He was just thankful that now that he knew she could actually hear and speak she would be able to hear him if he called out to her and she would be able to answer. With that thought in mind Erik settled himself down on the couch and let the sleeping draught he had made take effect.
Erik woke a short while later. Glancing at the clock he saw that it was three in the morning. Rising gingerly he knew he had to find Paris. He glanced down at his attire and frowned. He needed to clean shirt and a change of pants. Making his way into his ransacked bedroom he managed to dig up a clean shirt and a pair of pants that hadn't been destroyed by the murderous mob. After he had changed and was reasonably presentable to his liking he went into the kitchen and ate some more cheese and crackers. Then he packed the rest into a bag, filled a flask full of water, grabbed his cloak and a lantern and hurried out into the dark passageways. He made sure his house was hidden behind the camouflaged rocks. He knew that it hadn't been before and that was how the mob had gotten in.
Erik knew he had to hurry. There were hundreds of passageways and even though he knew them all like the back of his hand he knew Paris didn't and could have wandered down one after another. She would have gotten so turned around she wouldn't know which way was up anymore. And Erik knew he had to search every one of them. He only hoped that Paris had realized that she was lost and had stopped running a soon as she realized that. It would make finding her easier if she wasn't too far into the catacombs. However, with as angry at him as she had been he had a sinking feeling that she had not done just that.
Erik searched for over four hours with no results. He hadn't gotten through all of the passageways yet but he was beginning to think that maybe Paris had found her way out of them after all. She was a smart girl and Erik wouldn't put it past her to have waited until after the mob left and followed them back up. With a tired sigh Erik gently massaged his shoulder which was beginning to throb again and turned down another passageway.
"Paris can you hear me? Are you down here?" Erik called for what felt like the millionth time. He paused and listened with his keen hearing, his cat-like eyes searched the dark halls for anything out of place. He sighed dejectedly when he heard and saw nothing again. Pressing forward he resumed the search.
Once again this was all his fault, he thought as tears pricked his eyes. If only he hadn't gone after Christine again when she had returned he could be sharing a pleasant evening alone with Paris. 'Hindsight is 20/20' Nadir's voice echoed in his head. It was always one of that damn Persian's favorite sayings. Erik growled deep in his throat as he thought about the Persian. Where was he when Erik really needed him? Nadir would be able to help Erik find Paris; he was so good at tracking down people. A sound down the passageway brought Erik up short. He listened but sighed when he realized that it was only a rat. He hoped the mob hadn't found Paris first. The last thing he wanted was to have to help her escape from jail.
Another hour passed and Erik's shoulder was now a burning pain. He clenched his teeth together as he paused and placed a hand upon it. He needed to tend to it soon or infection might set in. Sweat trickled down his temple as he waited for the pain to subside just a bit. He was about to turn down another passageway when a soft sound drifted to his ears. He froze and listened again. There it was again: a soft sniffle and a tiny moan. Paris?
"Paris?" Erik called out softly and began to slowly make his way towards the sound. He didn't want to alarm the person if it wasn't Paris but he needed to know who it was.
"E…rik?" a soft moan called out.
That was all the confirmation Erik needed to know that it was indeed Paris. He ran forward, lighting the lantern as he did so. She lay curled up in a ball by the side of the passageway, weak from hunger and thirst. Erik knelt down and gathered her up into his arms as he wept with relief. Paris clung weakly to him as she, too, cried.
"I thought I would never find you," Erik sobbed against her hair as he gently rocked her in his arms.
"I'm sorry, so sorry Erik! I didn't mean what I said before! I was angry and upset but please don't leave me here alone anymore!" Paris choked out, her throat raw from crying so much.
"I promise, God Paris, I'll never leave you again!" Erik gasped softly and held Paris tighter.
When they had calmed down, Erik settled Paris more comfortably in his lap and pulled out the sack of food and water. He pulled out some food and gave the flask of water to Paris to drink. She gulped the water down and would have drank it all if Erik hadn't warned her that she would make herself sick if she drank it too fast or drank too much. He then handed her some cheese and she ate it slowly. They sat in silence for a short while before Erik decided that they needed to get out of the passageways.
He gathered everything up and then stood up. Reaching down, he helped Paris to her feet. She was still weak but with Erik there to help her she knew she would be able to make it. Erik carried the sack and lantern in his left hand, the side with the wound and wrapped his right arm around Paris to support her.
They walked slowly in silence. Every now and then Erik would pause to listen and let Paris rest before urging her on. Now that Erik wasn't searching for Paris he was able to keep an eye on the passageways to make sure they didn't get lost. He could see where short cuts could be made since he didn't have to search every passageway. They made it back to the lake and Erik's home in about an hour.
Once safely inside the house Erik and Paris collapsed in exhaustion onto the couch. They rested for a few minutes before Erik roused himself enough to get up and tend to his wounded shoulder. Paris watched him with a worried frown.
"Will that be okay?" she asked softly.
Erik glanced up at her and smiled. "Yeah, I got the bullet out. I'm out of danger; I just have to keep an eye on it. Hurts like hell though," he winced as he applied more salve on the wound.
"I suppose you would know what hell is like, huh?" Paris asked her throat thick with unshed tears.
"Yes," came Erik's soft reply. Paris looked up into his eyes and knew that searching for her had been hell for him. He looked exhausted and pained. "But don't blame yourself Paris. I was too stupid not to see what was right in front of me so I brought this upon myself."
"I should have said something sooner. At least then you would have known how I felt and then you would have been able to go from there with a little bit more knowledge. I kept hoping you wouldn't show up at the performance that night! When I wasn't able to tell you what was in store for you if you showed up I just hoped that you already knew about the plan and so wouldn't show up. Why did you, though?" Paris looked down at her hands clasped tightly in her lap.
Erik was silent for a moment and Paris feared he had been enchanted by her voice again but when she raised her eyes she met his and he sighed. "I don't know if knowing you loved me would have made much of a difference at the time but I came because I wanted to see Christine. I had been hiding in the passageway in Box 5 and when Christine began to sing I just had to get a better view of her. So I stepped out into Box 5. I knew there were policemen everywhere but I was so entranced by Christine singing my Opera, singing the one song that put all my feelings for her into music, I just forgot the men were there. Hence I was caught off guard. Now I wish I had just stayed behind that wall, then maybe none of this would have happened," Erik sighed as he waved his hand at the destruction of his home. "Maybe I would have realized my feelings for Christine were not as genuine as I thought and that my feelings for you were."
Paris stared in shock at what he had just said. Was he admitting something to her?
"What are you saying?" she breathed, she didn't dare hope that what he was saying was what she had dreamed he would say to her.
"I love you, Paris. I don't know why I never realized it before. I could always be myself around you. I never had to tiptoe around you like I did with Christine. You always made me laugh and made me feel cared for. You didn't run away or scream when I showed you my face, you accepted me for who I was. I always knew Christine would never be like that and yet I still went after her. I kept using you as someone to take my pain away and then I tossed you aside when Christine was back with me to dish out more pain. And you never complained vocally or otherwise. You always opened your arms and gave me a comforting smile as if you were happy with your role in my life and yet deep down you weren't. And deep down I knew that but I refused to acknowledge it and therefore I caused you more pain than I ever felt with Christine. I don't want to cause you anymore pain Paris, I just can't live with myself if I do!" Erik was sobbing by the time he finished his explanation. Paris gathered him close into her arms and held him tightly against her.
"You love me, Erik. You can't hurt me if you love me now. Oh Erik, I just wish I hadn't lied about not being able to hear and speak! You told me things that you never really wanted me to hear and I did! I caused so much unnecessary pain because I didn't say things that could have prevented other things!" Paris cried.
Erik shook his head. "No, you made it easier to love you, Paris. Because you pretended you couldn't speak or hear I was able to say things that I wouldn't have been able to if you could hear. You taught me sign language and that allowed me to say things that were painful for me. You were able to fool so many people that they trusted you with things that they never would have trusted with someone else. You are a stronger person because of what you have done. Not many people would be able to pull off being deaf and mute to the extent you have. Even when loud noises sounded causing everyone else to jump and scream you just stood there as if nothing was going on. Although now I know why you could dance so beautifully; you could actually hear the music," Erik was chuckling by now. Paris made a watery sound that sounded like a laugh.
"That was the hardest part about pretending to be deaf. I could hear the music and so at times would actually get swept up into it to the point where I would close my eyes and just dance. I think some of the girls thought I could actually hear because I would move to the tempo flawlessly. I don't think any real deaf person would have been able to do that without feeling the beats. I also had to remind myself not to stop whenever the music would stop unexpectedly. I had to wait until I saw something that would show me that I had to stop," Paris explained, her voice laced with humor.
Erik laughed and held Paris tighter. He raised his head to look into her eyes, his expression serious now. "Why did you pretend?"
"I had to," Paris softly answered. "My voice has been a curse since the day I was born. Ever since I could talk my voice has had some strange enchantment over people. I was in school one year and I was playing with some dolls in the school yard when I saw this giant rat. I began yelling at it to die as I attacked it with a stick. I didn't know it at the time but while I was screaming two other girls heard me and began stabbing themselves with sticks. They died before the doctor could get to them but it was my voice that caused their deaths. Over the next few years several other deaths or near death occurrences happened whenever I said something about death. Orders were obeyed instantly whenever I asked for something. Everyone thought I was possessed by the Devil and that I was possessing people with my voice.
"I was beaten severely every time I said something that caused something to happen. I was beaten so badly once that I got sick and when I got well I just pretended that the illness had made me deaf and mute. My parents were very happy about that. I ran away when I was sixteen and joined the Opera House. The rest you pretty much know." Paris explained in a voice barely above a whisper. "My back is covered in scars from the beatings."
Erik just sat and listened to Paris' story and when she finished he growled deep in his throat before pulling her against him once again. "I'll kill them! They shouldn't be left to live after all the pain you've been through because of them. You can't help it that you have a beautiful voice," Erik seethed.
"It may be beautiful but it's a curse as well. You have even been under its power!" Paris protested as she pulled away from Erik to look up at him.
"Only that once and that was because I had never heard it before. I had never heard a voice that heavenly. God gave you that voice, Paris, not the Devil. I've been told God works in mysterious ways and this is one of them. The same goes for my face. Because of it I've been called a child of Satan. I'd now like to think that because God works in such mysterious ways that he made it possible for us to be together. Christine wasn't meant to love me, you were. You weren't meant to speak with your voice for so long because you were meant to speak with your hands and heart to show me love instead of saying it. If you notice I haven't exactly been under your voice's enchantment for quite some time now. Or at least not in the same way as has happened before. Maybe that's another reason for us falling in love, I'm not under the spell so you won't have to worry about saying something that would have dire results," Erik rationalized with a soft smile.
"I won't have any control over you with my voice?" Paris asked her voice tinged with a touch of panic. Erik frowned.
"Why would you want to? You were just complaining that you feared I would be under the spell."
"Well if you're not under my voice's enchantment how can I order you to kiss me and expect to get the desired affect?"
Erik opened his mouth to respond but froze when her words actually sank in. He shot a startled glance down at her and held his breath when he saw her grinning up at him. He realized she wasn't exactly joking.
"You want me to kiss you?" he breathed.
"I love you Erik, I believe people in love kiss," Paris frowned at his delaying.
Erik looked deeply into Paris' eyes once more before he slowly lowered his head down to hers. He paused centimeters from her lips giving her a chance to back away but she raised her head to his instead. His eyes fluttered shut as soon as his lips met hers. He tried to keep the kiss light but Paris seemed to have other ideas. She raised her arms to encircle his neck and pressed her lips more firmly against his. Erik moaned and deepened the kiss as he pulled Paris into his lap and angled his head over hers. He gently traced her lips with his tongue and she softly parted them to allow him to enter. His tongue tangled with hers and her soft moan aroused him to the point of near distraction. He had to stop before he took this farther than he should.
He managed to pull away and just held Paris against him while they breathed deeply to regain their breath.
"Do you think it will always be like that when we kiss?" Paris gasped, her forehead resting against Erik's uninjured shoulder.
"God I hope so," Erik laughed shakily as he kissed her temple. "It'll be a rather dull marriage if that's all the excitement we'll ever see from now on."
Paris froze and slowly raised her head to look at him. "Marriage? You…you want me to marry you?" her voice came out as a squeak.
"If you'll have me," Erik answered softly.
Tears filled Paris' eyes as she wrapped her arms around Erik again. "Yes," she sobbed. "Yes, I'll marry you! I promise I'll make a good wife for you! Oh Erik, I love you so much!"
"And I love you, Paris. I'll take good care of you, I promise," Erik felt tears trickle down his face as he held the woman he loved tightly against him. He then pulled her into another kiss, this one just as magical as the first one.