Disclaimer: You know the drill.
A/N: Really sorry for the long hiatus! SATs, school, and crap that no one else really cares about. Here's the new installment! Forgive me for any serious errors…it's late, my brain is fried, and I just had an unfortunate accident with laundry detergent.
Enjoy!
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Chapter 8I had been sitting on the edge of the bed for the better part of an hour now, a skirt splayed loosely across my lap. Fingering the material almost absently, I stared blankly at the empty fireplace that was completely devoid of any flames. I had allowed the fire to burn out hours ago, and although a maid had peeked into my room once, I had sent her away quickly.
Go home? To Italy? I did not want that. It was probably the last thing that I desired right now. Who knew what kind of life awaited me there? Would I be subject to Raoul's acquaintances who were for the most part like the fat Italian at Madame Penous' party of so many months ago? I gathered the skirt up into a ball and tossed it haphazardly into the trunk at the foot of the bed, rising with a sigh.
I wanted to shut it all out of my mind. Everything needed to be forgotten, or I would surely become insane. I had tried to occupy my brain with menial activities like packing, but it had all been useless. I moved automatically through my chores, pausing here and there to attend to some small task that was truly inconsequential.
I was now pacing back and forth in front of the dead fireplace, rubbing my arms at the chill. Then I bent over and began to stack logs as I hunted for something to light the wood with. As soon as the wood blazed to life, welcome warmth gravitated to my skin and warmed me. I reached for the poker and tended to the flames for a moment, stirring up the blaze as best I could.
"Tending to a fire like a common maid. I'm surprised, Christine."
I gasped and turned, the heavy poker causing me to stumble in a momentary loss of balance. Leaning against the mantle, I steadied myself and flicked the curls back from my face. I had been so absorbed in my task that I had not heard him enter.
"What are you doing here?" I asked softly, laying the poker aside. I attempted to bring more order to my hair, grabbing at the locks self-consciously. I had not bothered much with my appearance that morning, opting to don a simple woolen dress devoid of any decoration. I could have passed for a maid in my current state, for I had neglected to even pin up my hair.
"Here." He reached over to the bureau and extracted a ribbon from the melee of objects that cluttered the furniture.
I accepted the ribbon, murmuring my thanks and turning away to modestly tie my hair back in a thick tail at the base of my neck. While I worked, I watched my visitor twist a hat in his hands and gravitate further into the room. "Mind if I sit?" he asked, looking around curiously.
I nodded and closed the door behind him, pausing with a hand on the doorknob as I watched him settle on the edge of the bed where I had just been sitting. The afternoon sun glanced off his bright hair, which was slicked back as cleanly as ever, although there was a decided haggard look to his appearance.
"Raoul, why are you here?" I asked him again, still leaning against the doorframe.
He stretched forward and fingered the materials in my trunk thoughtfully, "Does it matter? You look like you were about to return anyway."
I frowned and shook my head, "Who sent for you?" Was this all part of Erik's plan to have me shipped home? Had he really grown desperate enough to summon Raoul?
Raoul smiled hesitantly, lifting up the feather light skirt that I had just put away. He pressed the fabric to his face, inhaling the scent from it and looking wistful, "No one sent for me, Christine. I came on my own."
"You did?" I asked stupidly. "Why?"
"So much to say, and yet I have no way of properly expressing myself. How does one go about this?"
I frowned, "About what?"
"Apologizing." Raoul continued to finger the garment sadly, holding it close to himself. "I want you to come home with me. I want us to try again."
I looked away, feeling guilty very suddenly. Raoul had come all this way to ask my forgiveness? But why? Any way one looked at the situation, it was my fault and mine alone! How Raoul had tried to please me; to make me happy! True, I knew he had long ago ceased to be faithful to me in body, but I had begun to sin the second we left the Opera Populaire behind. Every day there was always a moment in which my thoughts reached for elements of an existence that I could never have. Every sense I experienced possessed an elusive reminder of something that I missed unbearably. My mind had never been faithful to him, and because of this, he had turned away from me.
So why was I not kneeling on the ground now and begging his forgiveness? Why had he been forced to seek mine in turn?
Raoul groaned and tossed the skirt back into the trunk, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. "It's been months, Christine. I miss you," he told me honestly. "You did not even send a single letter to me."
I looked away, "I know."
He stood up and walked to where I stood at the door. Raoul took my hands gently and kissed my knuckles longingly, "Tell me it isn't too late. Tell me I still have a chance. Can I make you happy again, Christine? Were you ever happy with me?"
My eyes widened and I shook my head in protest, "Of course I was happy! For a time…I was truly…happy." My voice dwindled and I looked away.
Raoul sighed, still holding my hands. "I wish you would speak to me honestly. I promise I won't get angry, no matter what you say."
I turned my eyes back on him and smiled sadly, "You're human, Raoul. Whatever I tell you of the truth will only anger and hurt you. You have been drifting from me for a long time now no, don't speak! The blame lies with me and with me alone."
He stepped away from me, mussing his hair with an anxious hand. "I fear we will get nowhere like this. We both blame ourselves entirely." He frowned, "How did we allow things to become so muddled? Where was our first mistake?"
"Was it when I left with you?" I asked softly. "Or when we kissed upon the rooftop? When you became the patron of the Opera Populaire?" I swallowed slowly, "Perhaps it was when you ran into the sea to fetch my scarf."
Raoul brushed a few loose tresses back from my forehead, "I don't regret that one bit," he told me firmly.
"Foolish boy," I laughed teasingly.
"Little Lotte with her head forever in the clouds," he replied in kind.
We both laughed, sharing a single childhood reminiscence in the moment.
Then the moment passed and reality settled back upon us.
"Is it him?" Raoul asked at last, the question obviously forced.
My silence was all the reply he needed. He did not have to elaborate upon the question, for we both knew perfectly well what he meant.
"You wish to return to him." It was a flat statement, and for the first time bitterness entered his voice.
I hugged my elbows and sank into the chair beside my bureau. I knew I had to make a decision now; I had to reconcile with Raoul and attempt to move on with my life. Erik had made it perfectly clear to me that he wished to have as little to do with me as possible. Oh, I knew that he still cared for me how could he not after all that he had done to try to save me? But he had his pride, I knew, and beyond that he possessed a fragile heart that I had shattered over and over again.
For the first time I felt a dull and aching pain begin to draw on my chest. It was as if an invisible leech had settled upon my bare skin and begun to draw the soul from my body. I placed a hand over my chest and drew a deep breath, willing myself to forget and leave behind an impossible love. I had forsaken it once; why could I not do it once again? Why couldn't I let go of Erik as he had of me? Now I knew how he had felt all these years; now I understood what I had led him through. Yet in the end, he had released me, and now it was my turn to do the same.
Oh, God. If only I had possessed the courage to love him all those years ago! Why had I feared him so? Why had I been so blind? Why had I been so selfish? What had I to show for my decision but five years of misery and the ruin of two men who were both so dear to me?
Lost in thought, I did not notice Raoul until he knelt before me. "Can't you try to forget again, Christine?"
"I want to," I whispered, touching his cheek with my chilled fingers.
He smiled and leaned into my touch. "Then come home with me."
I realized very suddenly that I would be putting him in danger if I accompanied him back to Paris. Even if we were in Italy, my very presence would be a threat to him. I did not know for sure how much Karine Renois had told her 'friends', nor did I know how many of those friends there actually were. If I stayed with Raoul, the chances of him becoming hurt increased dramatically. Could I put him in such danger? Could I ask him to protect me once again?
"Come home," he repeated, rising and pulling me to my feet. "Anywhere you go, let me go too. Christine, that's all I ask of you."
I wrenched out of his grasp and stumbled back, feeling the tears gather at the corners of my eyes. That song! Always those cursed words that damned us! And what foolish words they had been! All this talk of summertime had been nothing but a fanciful dream, pleasant in its stark contrast to the seductive lure of the other dream I had found myself living in those last days at the Populaire.
"I can't," I told him, my brows drawn together in thought. "I can't go with you!"
"What?" Raoul looked helplessly about the room, completely at a loss. "Then you are truly returning to him?"
"No!" I yelled, surprising even myself. "No, I can't go back! But I can't condemn you to a life of misery either!"
"What?" Raoul's stare was blank, his thoughts clearly muddled.
I nodded my head in accordance with my own words, "Don't you understand? I can never make you happy not like you deserve." I turned my tearful face to him again, "Please, Raoul, let me go."
Raoul shook his head, "Just one more chance, Christine. We could leave Paris behind forever and settle in Italy to escape the memories of that place. Please, say that you'll come!"
Instead of answering him, I tugged at my wedding ring ruthlessly. I offered it to him eagerly, pushing it into his hand in haste. "I can't wear this anymore," I told him. "I'm not worthy of it. I'm not worthy of your love, Raoul."
Raoul stared at me as if I had slapped him. He looked confusedly at the ring cradled in his palm, his expression utterly perplexed. "That's it?" He asked quietly. "I suppose you put the other ring on now."
"What?"
"It has to be him, doesn't it?" Raoul sighed and turned the ring over in his hand. "I don't know what else to say, Christine. I tried so hard to make it work between us…I had hoped that in time you would forget him; that in time you could learn to love me instead and stop aching for your loss."
Almost involuntarily, I replaced the hand upon my chest and took another deep breath.
"What really happened?" Raoul asked, staring at a fixed point in the air. "I mean, what were these last five years anyway? Were we living a charade? Were we playing some game that both of us hated but at the same time could not give up?"
"I didn't want it all to be in vain," I whispered quietly. "I wanted his sacrifice to mean something; I wanted you to have my love after you fought so hard for it."
Raoul laughed softly, "You wanted me to have your love?"
I smiled, "It doesn't make sense, does it?"
"No, I understand."
I rubbed at my eyes, "It's all so complicated."
"Maybe we just need some time," Raoul suggested quietly. "Divorce is not something that is taken to so lightly."
I sighed, "I know that it is nothing short of a scandal."
Raoul snorted, "That's an understatement." He breathed deeply now, "Tell me, Christine, where will you go? What will you do? Is he waiting for you now with open arms?"
"No." I replied hesitantly. "Raoul, please don't be angry with me -."
He began to pace in front of the fireplace again, "You would rather be alone than stay with me? You would rather die by yourself than share the rest of your with someone that you love only as a…what? What am I to you?"
I could not answer the question.
"Is there anything else to love?" Raoul demanded of no one in particular. "Bitterness? Lies? Deceit?" He looked down at me, "Can we even call what we had 'love'?"
"Don't make this any harder than it has to be," I whispered.
Raoul stopped his pacing and forced himself into a semblance of control. "What would it take to make you truly happy, Christine?" He returned to his place on the edge of the bed, "You locked me outside in a blizzard, you know, yet I still want you beside me."
I smiled despite myself. "Naked."
"What?"
I shook my head, waving my hand dismissively. "Nothing."
Raoul sighed, "You know that I can't abandon you in good conscience, Christine."
"It's what I want," I told him softly.
He was stubborn in his refusal, "I will not drop you like an old ornament. I know I have a certain responsibility to you."
I looked at him pleadingly, "Let me go!" I repeated the phrase, willing him to understand. I was hesitant to tell him the truth about Erik, Buquet, Renois and the rest, for I barely understood the half of it myself. I also knew that it would only strengthen his resolve to stay with and watch over me.
He looked at the ring in his hand once again, and then he pocketed it. His shoulders were hunched and defeated, but he spoke evenly, "Very well. If you wish me to keep my distance, I will."
"Thank you," I gasped, although I looked disbelievingly at the ground. Was he really letting me go?
"But," he held up a hand and now knew that he had my attention.
"Yes?" I asked, wondering what conditions he would set.
Raoul's blue-eyed gaze was honest and kind, "Tomorrow we will go back to Paris no, don't protest, Christine. Hear me out. After we return, I want you to stay with me until you are settled somewhere else comfortably. Name whatever you want and I will bring it to you."
"You would do that?" I asked quietly, awed by his generosity. "You would really…"
He frowned, "What?"
I rubbed at my neck tiredly, "It's just not what I was expecting, that's all."
Unexpectedly, his gaze hardened and grew cold. "What would you have me do?" He gestured at the floor, "Do you want me to get down on my knees and beg at your feet? Do you want me to make a dog of myself, only knowing that it will lead to rejection in the end?"
"God, no!" I cried, moving toward him. "Never!"
Raoul stepped back from me much as Erik had, surprising me greatly, "I need some time."
I halted and hovered at an uncertain distance from him. Had I driven away all the men who had ever cared about me? I remembered how Erik had distanced himself, refusing to touch me after I had tried to speak with him. What had I done to them?
"Don't cry," Raoul intoned softly. "It would be useless to lament what was only inevitable. I should have seen it and not held on to my blind hope."
"Raoul…" I breathed.
He shook his head, "Can you be ready by morning? Do you need more time to gather your things?"
I looked away and walked to the window, concentrating on the fields of the estate caressed by the afternoon sunlight. Several figures meandered about the grounds, one of them a boy chasing a dog with a stick. I frowned, recognizing the dark brown hair which belonged to Lucien. I resolved to berate him later for torturing the poor animal whose yelps reached my ears even through the thick glass.
"Christine?" Raoul asked, reminding me of his presence.
I did not look at him, managing a small nod, "Yes, I'll be ready."
He said nothing else, for there was no more to say. As soon as I heard the door shut, I leaned my forehead against the glass and struggled to control the torrent of emotions that had begun to assault me. It was over…it was truly the end of our marriage. I frowned, straightening; how could this be the end? Just like that, he had let me go?
Then again, what more could I have expected of him? Neither of us were happy with present circumstances. This was probably the best way things could have ended for all of us, Erik included. Things would be strange between Raoul and I while we worked out a settlement, and I knew this would cost him some public embarrassment…but he was willing to risk that for me.
I was truly no better than a selfish tramp! I constantly made horrible decisions, and as a result I ended up wrecking the lives of the people who had been closest to me. It seemed that anyone who became too close to me would only end up being hurt in the end! I slammed my fist into the ledge of the window and turned away from it, determined to fetch some food from the kitchens so that I could fend off the depression which I knew was about to settle upon me.
Why all this self-pity? I was not even worthy of entertaining depression anymore.
On a sudden impulse, I knew that I had to go and see Erik now. I did not know what I would say to him, but somehow I had to show him how sorry I was for all of it. I had to make him understand that I had not hurt him willingly!
But hadn't I?
Why wouldn't these horrid thoughts end?
I opened the door and paused, rethinking my actions. Would I only make things worse? What was I going to say to him anyway? Maybe I could stop him from leaving maybe I could even convince him to take me along!
I shook my head at no one in particular. No, no! That was exactly what he didn't want! That was just what could make things worse between us! No, this last visit would be the end; the last time I would ever see him. I nodded in tune to my own resolve. I had to bid him good bye and let go of him as he had of me after Don Juan. That was what both of us needed; yes, it was the best way to end it all.
Determined, I began to move swiftly through the halls before I realized that I really had no idea where to go. The night before when I had stumbled upon him and Renois accidentally, I had been forced to ask a maid for directions back to my room. I had a terrible head for remembering my way around places, and so I now paused thoughtfully. A lady could not very well ask for the way to the room of a gentleman who was not her husband.
Someone was walking along the corridor behind me, whistling loudly. I turned irritably to discover Lucien skipping along, still wielding the dirty stick in one hand. He stopped upon seeing me, the habitual smirk gracing his face. "What was all that about last night?" he inquired, his tone condescending.
"What?" I replied automatically. So much had happened since I had last seen Lucien that I was almost at a loss as to what to say.
"Stupid as usual," Lucien commented. He sighed and turned as if he were preparing to walk away, "I don't have time to waste with idiots right now."
I held out a hand, "Wait! Where are you going?"
He hefted the stick on his shoulder, giving me a critical look, "Grandmamma needs to speak with me about Mother's funeral."
"So soon?" I asked tactlessly. I saw the wounded look that crossed the boy's eyes, and I quickly looked down in shame. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be insensitive," I told him.
Lucien shrugged, "No matter. It's not like anyone else cares that much. We weren't even that close."
I resisted the temptation to swamp him in an embrace and ruffle his hair in comfort. I had done enough of that the day before and I knew that Lucien normally did not take very kindly to any show of affection from me. In fact, he still behaved as if he perceived me as subhuman.
I knew that it was difficult for people like Lucien to open up and seek comfort from others. Erik was one such individual, and I understood all too well from my experiences with him that there were times when one offered comfort, and other times when it was best to let the situation be.
"I care," I told him firmly. When I saw that he opened his mouth to throw back a saucy reply, I interrupted him loudly, "I haven't got time for you to call me uncomplimentary names right now. Could you tell me the way to Erik's room?"
Lucien's eyes went from irritated to confused. "Erik?" He pursed his lips and then nodded, "Oh, him! He never lets me call him by his name – but why do you want to know?" His eyes narrowed suspiciously with the question.
Of course I had forgotten. Lucien addressed Erik only as monsieur whenever the two were together, as the man had insisted on keeping formality between the two of them. I had never understood it, but then again, I understood very little of Erik.
Lucien was still regarding me questioningly, tapping his foot.
"I wanted to say good-bye before I left," I told the boy. "Now, could you show me how to get there?"
Instead of throwing an insulting remark in my direction, Lucien's eyes widened in alarm. "Before you what?" He jumped up, dropping the stick on the ground, "What do you mean by that?"
"I leave for Paris in the morning," I informed him, shifting uncomfortably in my simple gown. The fabric suddenly seemed very uncomfortable and crude.
"No!" Lucien cried out, "No, you can't go!"
I stared at his outburst, completely surprised. "You don't want me to go?" I asked quietly, secretly pleased that this little boy at least seemed to care for me.
Lucien quickly recovered himself and snorted, "I haven't been punished as much ever since you came along, not counting that first night that Monsieur made me stay in the quarry all the way through dawn." He grinned, "You seem to make him forget all about punishing me whenever I do something bad."
And what exactly did he mean by that?
I began to walk away, shaking my head, "Never mind, I'll find him myself."
Lucien trotted along behind me, "Wait! Christine, are you really leaving?" The concern flickered across his childish features once more, and this time he did not hide it.
I nodded, "Yes, I am."
"You can't!"
"Lucien, I have to," I told him firmly.
He grabbed my sleeve, "Why? Does it have something to do with the woman that fell from the roof last night? I saw her with him several times…" Lucien bit his lip, "What happened? Why do you have to go?"
My breath latched in my throat when I saw the telltale signs of tears in his dark eyes. What in the name of the Lord had I done to capture the affection of this small boy?
Lucien looked up at me calculatingly, "Maybe he can convince you to stay! Yes, you'll listen to him, won't you?"
Although I knew what he said was probably true, I tipped my head and frowned, "What makes you say that?"
"You refer to him as Erik," Lucien commented. "You would have to be more than an acquaintance to do that!" He looked extremely pleased with himself at the deduction, "Especially after that little number last night with the song and all. You knew each other in Paris, didn't you?"
I snarled in frustration; I did not wish this to become any more complicated. There was no reason for Lucien to know anything beyond what he already did.
Lucien now began to leer again, "I know why you're so eager to see him. You're in luuuuuuurve, aren't you?" He fairly crooned the word love, delighting in my irritation.
I took a step toward him, "Be quiet, you stupid child!"
He laughed and danced away from me, "Love, love! Looooove!" Then he began to run down the hall, still singing the word love.
I almost hid my face in my hands to avoid the girlish blush that was rising in my cheeks. Damn the boy! Why was I blushing!
At a turn in the corridor, Lucien stopped running and waved back to me, "Well, come on, then!"
Pushing away his teasing words, I followed obediently at a slower pace. If he brought me to Erik, then I would not complain. Useless child with his stupid words! What did he know anyway? I glared at the back of Lucien's insolent head, my hands clutched into fists at my sides. The boy fairly skipped along in the hall now, singing the word love in rhythm with his pace. How I wanted to slap him!
Lucien suddenly stopped walking and I nearly collided with him. He turned slowly to regard me, a thoughtful look in his eyes. "Wait, aren't you married?" He asked this of me innocently.
At any other time I might have indeed favored him with a tart reply, but the memory of Raoul's visit killed any such words and left me to shake my head sadly. "Not for much longer," I whispered almost so that he did not hear.
Lucien frowned and continued to walk on, but he said nothing else. I was grateful for his thoughtful silence, crossing my arms over my chest protectively as I felt the cold return to my bones. It was certainly chilly in the corridors of the vast mansion, which suddenly seemed rather unwelcoming. In any case, I would be gone soon enough.
After a good amount of meandering through the hallways, Lucien finally brought me to a door that looked ordinary enough. With a small smile, I realized that I had almost expected a door that was invisibly carved into a wall and could only be opened with the aid of some complicated lock.
I turned to Lucien, "Thank you." Then I raised my hand to knock, steeling myself for this final encounter.
"Don't bother doing that," Lucien remarked. "He never answers the door. The only people he allows in there know how to open the door."
"Well, open it then," I ordered.
"Pushy," Lucien muttered. "Sometimes he locks it so that even I can't get in." Nevertheless, he passed his hand over some unseen mechanism, which elicited a click from the lock.
I still felt like we were breaking and entering, but Lucien was oblivious to my reservations and he skipped into the room naturally. More timid, I peeked around the door and hovered on the threshold, wondering how Erik would react to my presence.
What I saw, however, shocked me from performing any previous words that I had prepared. Lucien also stood completely still, his quick eyes darting about the room.
The room was large, but completely devoid of any furniture, save a single table cluttered with various scrolls and opened books. A few candles burned on the table, throwing the otherwise dark room into ghostly illumination. A piano crouched silently in a corner, looking lonely and forgotten. It was so different from what I had expected of him, especially after the lavish style he had displayed in his home beneath the opera. I took curious note of the pair of open trunks nestled beside the piano as well.
Erik sat at the table, his brow furrowed in concentration as he worked over a grand spread of paper. He held a small pencil in his hand and was scribbling lines into the sheet furiously when we entered unannounced, and probably unwelcome as well. He did not turn when we entered, although I was sure he heard us.
"Lucien, I thought I told you not to bother me today," he snapped without looking up from his work.
I moved quietly over to where he sat and stole a glance over his shoulder at what he was doing. I only caught a glimpse of what I could only assume to be architectural plan, before he turned suddenly with a shocked expression on his face.
"What are you doing here?" He demanded angrily, rising from his place. Erik looked over at Lucien who hovered guiltily by the door, "Did you let her in?" He directed a look of unconcealed fury over at the boy.
Despite Erik's look, Lucien seemed unmoved.
"Don't yell at the boy," I reprimanded softly. "I made him bring me here."
"I don't believe I was talking to you," Erik snapped, regarding me coldly. "Who said you were welcome here anyway?"
This was not proceeding in the way that I had imagined at all. Once, I might have cowered at this tone in fear, but now I resolved to set my will against his and to force him to hear me out. After all, I had simply come here looking for what one might call closure. All I wanted was to bid him farewell and be done with it.
His hostility, however, had only angered me. "Going somewhere?" I inquired of him, motioning toward the trunks in the corner.
Erik flicked a glance in my direction, "London. The train leaves tomorrow."
"Why didn't you tell me?" I blurted before I could help myself. I clapped a hand over my mouth and blushed deeply, grateful for the semi-darkness of the room.
He raised an eyebrow, "I wasn't aware that you had any business in knowing, Comtesse. I thought I made that perfectly clear to you last night."
I almost screamed at his insistence upon formality between the two of us. After all that we had been through, surely he would at least allow this one barrier to remain fallen!
Lucien sauntered over and stood between the two of us. He looked at Erik and exclaimed, "I'm coming with you, right? I can't wait to see London!"
Erik grunted in annoyance and turned away, "You most certainly are not." He began to rearrange things upon the table, sorting out the mess that was so uncharacteristic of him. "I have no desire to be weighed down with a petulant child in my presence."
Instead of yielding, Lucien began to whine, "But monsieur! I hate it here!"
"End of discussion," Erik scowled at nothing in particular and began to ignore Lucien.
I caught myself smiling at the exchange, for I could not help but be reminded of a parent berating a child who was behaving badly. What amused me the most was that Lucien did not appear to be terrified of Erik in the least. Rather, he looked like he was willing to push Erik to extremes without fear of being punished for it. Where had Lucien gathered such courage anyway? Even I had never possessed the will to talk back to the phantom!
Then again, I had always been rather weak.
I saw Lucien make a face behind Erik's back, and once again I hid a smile. The boy then ran up to the table where Erik stood sorting out his belongings, and snatched a pile of architectural plans from the corner of the table gleefully. He darted away from Erik's sharp hiss and smirked at him from a safe distance.
Erik's eyes narrowed and he held out his hand slowly. "Give that back right now," he ordered evenly.
Lucien waved the large papers in the air smugly, "Make me."
I drew in a breath sharply and watched the exchange with a sort of morbid fascination.
Indeed, Erik himself seemed surprised. He blinked several times, his hand still held out. "Excuse me?"
The boy sniffed and sat down on the ground, right on top of the papers. "I said make me," he grinned, knowing that Erik would have to drag him off by force.
Erik stared at him blankly for a moment, and then turned away with a frustrated sigh. "You'll give up eventually," he informed the boy.
"Take me to London with you, and I'll give them back."
"No." Erik sat back down at the table and drew up a new sheet of paper. He frowned when he saw me, "Why are you still here?"
I nearly laughed at the flustered look upon his face. I was sure that he had never been defied before in such a way and certainly not by a child! Grinning, I let the laughter take me and was forced to turn away. The man I had known in Paris would never have tolerated such games! Although his gaze had become hard and far from amused, I still could not help my mirth.
With his back still turned to me, Erik spoke once again. "Why have you come, Christine?"
I sobered instantly and the laughter fled as I remembered the purpose for my visit. After all, I had come here to say our last adieu. Not au revoir, no. This was the final good-bye, wasn't it? Lucien regarded both of us expectantly, crossing his little legs on the floor in order to obtain a more comfortable position. He probably knew he was in for a long sit.
"I came to say good-bye," I finally murmured, clasping my hands at the front of my dress and looking down at the floor. I concentrated on the hard, wooden planks. "I did not feel as if we properly bid each other farewell the other night."
Erik had tensed, but he did not move from his place. Instead I heard him lay his pencil aside and lean back in his chair with a sigh.
I walked over to where he sat and gracefully knelt at his feet, turning my face up to look at him. It was reminiscent of our actions upon the rooftop, but this was the last time I would ever do so. Trying to fend off the tears, I gazed at him sadly and whispered, "I don't know how to properly go about this. I don't even know if there is a right way to say it."
He frowned, "We've already said enough, Christine."
"No," I glanced down and then forced myself to look up at his face. The mask was there, yes, but the emotion could not be wiped away from his features no matter how hard he tried. Even now I saw the concern in his eyes; even now I could distinguish the sad lines about his mouth. "No," I repeated more forcefully, "I have said I am sorry, but I want you to truly understand." His left hand was resting on his knees, and I took it up in both of mine urgently, "I wanted you to know that it's over between Raoul and I."
Erik looked alarmed, "What did you say?"
I continued to hold his hand tightly, "I couldn't lie to him anymore. I know that I ruined things between us and that there is no going back, but at least I did one thing right."
To my surprise, Erik stood up and dragged me to my feet. "Christine, what have you done!"
I stared at him, confused, "What do you mean?"
He dropped my hand and began to pace once again. "You were supposed to leave for Italy with the Comte so that you could be safe! How can you play with your life like this?" Erik groaned aloud and mussed his hair with anxious hands, "How can you expect to survive on your own?"
"He promised he would provide whatever I needed," I replied. I followed Erik in his path and took his elbow, "You have to understand! My presence in his life would only put Raoul in danger! There was no other choice!"
Erik rubbed his forehead tiredly, closing his eyes, "You foolish girl."
I threw my hands in the air, "Whatever I do, I am always that foolish, naïve Christine to you!" Hadn't I done the right thing in leaving Raoul? Hadn't I?
Erik stilled, although it was not response to my words. "You say you left Raoul?"
I nodded, "Yes! I could not deceive him any longer!"
"He's here? The Comte de Chagny is here?"
"Well…yes. He begged me to come home, but I refused."
A cruel smile appeared on Erik's face, "Perhaps I can find a means of persuading the Comte to take his ungrateful wife back."
I stepped in front of him again and shrieked, "Don't you try anything! I made my decision! Leave him out of this!"
Erik looked wild at my outburst. "Christine, look at your situation. You are now completely alone in a world where there are cutthroats after your precious little neck! Do you really wish to live a life where you will be constantly looking over your shoulder even within the confines of your own home? You must go back with the Comte! You have to live!"
In that moment, I realized that no matter what my resolve had been, I could never leave him. Not when he stood before me, openly concerned for my well-being. Not when he so clearly told me that he feared for my life and that he had never stopped caring for me. The words of last night did not matter to me; all I could think of was how I longed to ask him to protect me. It would be asking much of him, but how I wanted it!
"Take me with you," I murmured quietly.
Erik turned away from me, "We've had this discussion. I thought you came here to bid me farewell."
"Doesn't it make sense?" I asked pointedly, hoping that I did hold the upper hand. "You are the only person in this world who can help me."
He laughed, "That sounds slightly pathetic."
I stomped my foot much like Lucien had done, "Raoul does not even know what happened! I could never tell him and risk his life as well! Or is that what you want?" I touched Erik's shoulder and forced him to look at me, "Was that the general idea? To send me back to Raoul so that both of us could die?"
Erik grabbed my wrist and twisted it harshly, "If that was what I wanted, I could have killed both of you by now. Listen to yourself, Christine! Where did you get the notion that I wanted to kill you? Think before you spout more nonsense!" He let go and directed his attention at Lucien, "Give me those sketches, boy!"
While his back was turned, I was seized with a sudden idea. I gravitated toward the piano where I discovered music sheets dotted with notes littering the elegant frame. I picked several up and commented lightly, "Is this your new work?"
Erik turned from where he was arguing with Lucien and glowered. "Put that down, Christine," he warned. I knew perfectly well that he hated it when others fiddled with his work and that was exactly why I took up a quill resting on the piano and began to scratch new notes into the paper.
"Beautiful," I went on, "but I think that this waltz could use some further touches."
He started toward me, furious beyond words once again. But I no longer feared him; I had been inspired by Lucien, and now I acted without terror. As soon as I saw Erik turn in my direction, I swiftly sat myself down on top of the music, settling comfortably on the ground.
"Either way you look at it, it makes more sense for me to accompany you," I told him firmly. "I will never go back to Raoul," I lifted up my hand, devoid of a ring, "I can't hurt him again.
"Move," Erik seethed, chest heaving. "I don't care for your sentimental babbling."
I smirked triumphantly, "Make me."
From across the room, Lucien laughed.
"Like two children!" Erik exclaimed, throwing up his hands. "For the love of God, Christine, you're twenty-one years old! Act your age!"
Lucien was fairly howling with laughter now, and I could not restrain my own giggles. "Make me," I repeated.
Erik sat down beside me and tapped his fingers on the ground impatiently. He regarded both Lucien and I calmly, "You two can't just sit there forever, you know."
"Yes we can," Lucien put in.
And then, Erik began to laugh. Quietly at first, and then for the first time in my life, I heard him give a great hearty laugh of pure joy that I had thought him incapable of. I stared at his sudden mirth, for never before had I seen him give himself entirely to the hilarity of a situation. Was that delight I saw in his eyes? Was that the beautiful light of hope returning to him?
I held out a tentative hand, "Erik?"
He finally mastered himself and wiped the tears from his eyes. They fairly shone with pleasure as he looked at me. "I don't think I've ever laughed like that," he admitted. "Forgive me."
I smiled, "How you've changed."
Erik looked at me with surprise, "Changed? Well, I suppose I'm softer than I once was. I should have taught both you and the boy a lesson by now. I'm growing weak, I fear. Weak and old."
"You're not old," I chided him. He smiled softly, but looked away.
Had another barrier between the two of us lifted? Was this another glimpse of Erik that I had never seen before? I had feared the Phantom of the Opera, I had given my soul to the Angel of Music, and I had fled from him the first time I had seen Erik as he was: a simple man with a broken heart. His manner was almost playful now, a far cry from everything that I had come to know and expect from him.
"Take me to London?" I asked again.
"No."
"What?" I gasped, taken aback. I leaned forward and reached to caress the unmasked half of his face. His features appeared handsome indeed in the weak light, accented by the haunted and enigmatic look of his eyes. A pity that the horror that lay beneath the mask overshadowed and blotted out any beauty he possessed! But no, none of that mattered to me now. Why did he constantly deny me when I openly wished to give myself to his embrace and lovingly touch every inch of his face? Beautiful or twisted, it no longer mattered. I loved him as Erik I wanted him as the whole man, and nothing else. I no longer cared for angels or demons! Why could I not have him?
I was encouraged by the fact that he did not pull away from my touch. He even pressed his lips gently to my palm and held my hand there for a time with his striking eyes shut against the world. "I can't take you with me because Death follows wherever I go," he spoke softly. "Remember, Christine, it is on account of me that you find yourself in your current predicament. It would have been better if you had never known me! Then, at least, you would have been truly safe." Erik opened his eyes and lowered my hand, "If you stay with me, then I will only bring you more pain. Can't you see that?"
"Maybe I am blind, but I cannot see," I replied. "Since it is your fault there is a price on my head, then you have a certain responsibility to me, do you not? Isn't it your duty to protect me now? It seems only logical to me."
Erik stared at me, "You don't want my protection."
"I do," I answered promptly.
"Christine, you don't know what you'd be getting into –."
I cut him off, "I do know! It's my choice!"
Erik took a slow breath, "Christine, you barely know a thing about me. You say you are willing to stay with me, but you don't know the half of what I have done."
"So you want me with you?"
He nodded, "Of course I do, but I'm telling you right now that - ."
Erik was silenced because I cut his words off with a kiss. I covered his lips urgently, catching him completely off guard with my sudden weight. His balance disappeared in that one moment, and we both fell flat against the floor with a painful thump.
"I'm sorry!" I sat up instantly, worried I had somehow harmed him. "Did I hurt you?"
He still lay on the floor before me, eyes wide and shocked. "Haven't you heard a word I said?"
"I have, and I choose not to care right now." I leaned over him once again, "Erik, what matters is the present moment. Forgive me for sounding trite, but it is unwise to live in the past." I moved my face closer to his, "If we dwelt on all our past mistakes, we would never move very far in life, now would we?"
"Christine, you still don't know - ."
"One day, you will tell me," I urged him, bestowing another kiss upon his forehead. I smiled and murmured into his ear, "I love you as you are now. I don't need anything else besides that. Will you take me to London?"
"Do I have a choice?"
I kissed his nose lightly, "There is always choice."
"Is there?"
"Well, not in this case."
Laughing once more, he put his hands about my waist and pressed me to his body urgently. "Thank you," was all he said to me, but it was enough.
Someone coughed.
Erik and I stiffened in our embrace and turned shocked gazes on Lucien who was looking at us open-mouthed. His jaw fairly reached the floor as he stared at the two of us, nestled comfortably against one another on the hard floor. I could not believe that we had forgotten his presence! My cheeks flushed red for the third time that night, and I sat up hastily with Erik's help.
"You two are disgusting," Lucien declared finally.
"Lucien, if you wish to accompany us, you will leave this room immediately and pack your things. Is that understood?" Erik's tone had switched from tender to strict.
Lucien beamed, "I can really come?"
"My sketches?" Erik held out his hand once more.
"Here!" Lucien clapped his hands delightedly and returned the papers to Erik. He ran toward the door, "London!" With that, he exited swiftly and left us alone.
Erik had risen and was now returning his work back to its proper place upon his table. I suddenly felt very shy, and rose slowly. I picked up the music that I had held hostage and returned it to its place on the piano without a word. When I turned back around, I saw that Erik was giving me an amused look.
"What?"
He gestured at me, "You've got a bit of ink on you."
I looked down at my dress, "Oh no! Where?" I twisted around and discovered to my dismay that I had sat in wet ink, which had stained the light gray of my dress. There were now ink stains smudged unceremoniously across my rump, causing me to color and hide my face in shame. Of all the places to stain one's dress! I was a lady of respectable society, not some commoner who worked in a printing shop!
Then again, what was I now? I could no longer call myself a lady, for I had made the decision to leave Raoul and his society behind forever. Where did I truly belong?
Erik noticed that I looked thoughtful and he approached me once more. "Don't worry," he told me, "I still love you."
I buried my face against his neck and pressed myself to his frame. "You're so thin," I reprimanded him softly. "But warm too." I sighed contentedly and began to unbutton his vest, "It feels nice." I drew myself up and kissed him again.
"I'm glad you approve," Erik told me when I broke the contact.
I had begun to shrug off the rest of his clothes, when an overwhelming sense of guilt took me. I looked at the enticing expanse of his revealed chest, but I could not continue. I looked up in remorse, willing him to understand.
"What's wrong?" Erik asked softly, confused by my actions.
I sighed regretfully, "No matter how much we want this, I am still a married woman." I began to plead, "Just, not tonight, Erik! Not on the night that Raoul probably grieves for me in this house, or else I will truly be guilty of all that he has accused me of!"
A look of hurt appeared on Erik's fine features, and he removed himself from my hold. "I see," was all he said. Then he stared at me once again, "I will never understand you, Christine!" He fairly yelled the words at me, "How can you just play around with me like this? You had be so convinced this time! I actually believed you…I believed you again when I swore to myself that I never would!" He began to button his finely-tailored shirt, walking away from me. "Time and again I fall to your charms! For all my lofty protestations, I never will learn!"
I would not let him escape me this time. I followed his footsteps like a dog and locked my arms about him from behind, resting my head against his back. "I'm not playing," I told him. "Please, Erik, just give me some time."
He tried to dislodge me, but I held on to him firmly.
"Stay with me tonight," I begged. "Please? Just hold me while I sleep."
Erik slumped. "Women," he muttered.
"Yes, women," I agreed.
Obediently, he turned so that he could lift me up in his arms. I purred my pleasure and allowed him to carry me through the door on the far end of the room, which led to his bedroom. This too was now unfurnished, but a generous feather bed still made up stood in one corner. Erik gently placed me here, and I pulled him down beside me with a firm resolve.
Our passions would have to be quelled for this night. I knew I pained him, but it was a silly thing for my own ridiculous piece of mind.
"You are indeed an angel to me," I told him.
He said nothing as he covered us with a blanket and held me protectively against his side. I settled against the length of his body comfortably, feeling as if I had always belonged there. He was thin, yes, but no bone jarred me uncomfortably and nor did any mannerism of his irk me. I smiled to myself, resolving to put more meat on his frame and then to show him just how much I loved him. I could not give myself to him tonight, no, but I prayed he would understand.
"Are you asleep?" I asked timidly. His eyes were closed, but I could not tell.
"No."
I kissed his cheek, "Will you sing me a lullaby?"
That brought a smile to his lips, "Which one?"
"Oh, any old nursery rhyme will do."
He began to sing softly, his words tickling my senses just as pleasurably as they had always done. I felt a surge of warmth in my heart, for it was a song that he had once sung to me when I had truly been a child. Silently, I marveled at how far we had come and allowed myself to drift off into a land called Sleep, lulled there by the current that was Erik's voice.
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A/N: This isn't the end. Yet. The next chapter is probably going to be the last, I think. Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed!