Thanks to those who are reviewing! I'm glad you're enjoying it so far. Either one or two more chapters after this...it's looking more like two now. This chapter came out kind of fluffy, but...the entire story has that underlying angst to balance it out. Hopefully it's not too sickly sweet... :)
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For a short moment, Christine Daae allowed her girlish daydreams to take over as she walked down the Parisian streets with her companion. She wondered how she appeared strolling arm in arm with this tall, handsome gentleman. Were other women perhaps eyeing her with envy as she sometimes did other couples? In the shop windows, she caught sight of their reflections and smiled to herself for a second. Though he was taller and much older than she, they did look rather nice together with their dark hair and pale complexions, especially dressed as elegantly as they were.
She enjoyed the feeling of his arm beneath her hand and the close proximity that they now shared. Though Erik was rather distant, she felt very safe with him, and she now understood why other women's faces seemed aglow when they walked with their beaus. His interest in her and the deep longing in his eyes, though, were still a mystery to her. Had he really just taken a fondness to her upon seeing her perform, or was there more to it? Before she felt secure, she would need to know the answer to these questions.
A silence lingered between them before she chose to make idle conversation again. "I am glad we have had such nice weather today. It seems to have been raining nonstop these last few weeks." She smiled up at him, and he just gazed back down.
"Yes," Erik finally replied. "I suppose one would consider it a nice day." He said it almost as if he himself disagreed with the statement. There was a short silence before he turned to face her. Her hand slowly slid off his arm, and she stared up at him. "Christine, is there anywhere else I could take you today. Anywhere of your liking?"
"I..." Suddenly, though, she remembered afternoon rehearsals. Glancing at a clock inside one of the stores, she winced as she saw that she only had twenty minutes left to get to the Opera Populaire. "Oh Monsieur!" she exclaimed. "I must get back to rehearsals. They begin at one-thirty!"
His expression contorted into one of dismay. "You cannot miss them this once?" he asked quietly. "Surely you are prepared enough."
"I am afraid not," she softly replied. "Hannibal begins in one week, and I do not feel ready at all. Even if I did feel prepared, Madame Giry will be furious if I do not show up."
"How long do they last?"
"For two long hours," she replied with a sigh. "Then I shall be done for the day."
"Christine..." His strange voice almost took on a hypnotic quality. "What if I told you that no trouble would come to you should you miss rehearsals today? You shall not be reprimanded nor shall you suffer in your performance." She looked up into his eyes and almost became lost within their faint glow, wanting to believe his words even though she had no reason to do so. Quickly she tore herself from them and stepped backward.
"No, Monsieur," she replied kindly but sternly. "I must go to my rehearsals. You are welcome to escort me, or I shall go alone." Christine saw what was almost anger pass over his face, and she wondered if he would attempt to force her to come with him. With a deep intake of breath, though, he drew back.
"Very well, then," he replied. "I shall escort you back to the Opera Populaire; however, I would like to meet with you afterward. I would like to take you to supper."
"Oh, Monsieur! I am always so completely exhausted after rehearsals. I shall be no fun at all to dine with. Perhaps tomorrow we could get together. I do not have anything planned, and I..."
"Christine that shall not be possible," he interrupted her abruptly, a haunted look once again entering his eyes. "After today, I am leaving for quite some time."
A strange forlorn feeling washed over her. Why had he chosen to come to her if only to leave the next day? Truthfully, it was not in her nature to become close to people. The only entities she had allowed into her life since the death of her father were Meg Giry and her beloved Angel of Music. Yet...she felt close to this man somehow, though she could not explain why. "That is fine, then," she replied. "You may meet with me after rehearsals." She paused. "Where are you going after today?"
A very long silence.
"Just...away, Christine. No place of any concern."
Erik took a seat toward the middle of the room and watched as she climbed upon the stage in her costume with the other performers. It had always made him cringe to see her dance around in the scanty outfit as a chorus girl, and it had been his intent for quite some time to get her the lead role in the upcoming opera. Should everything go as planned, these rehearsals would really make no difference. To directly reveal that to her, though, would have made her suspicious. To force her to stay with him and miss rehearsals would have made her afraid and distrustful. On that day, he desired her to want his companionship only by her own free will.
Walking down the street with her upon his arm had truly been another piece of heaven. Her chocolate eyes sparkled when she talked to him in her divine voice, and her smile was one that would have made any angel jealous. He could practically feel the encompassing warmth emanating from her body and spirit the entire time.
From his plush seat, he watched with disdain as the current prima donna, La Carlotta, yelled at the other girls and complained nonstop about every small matter. He had never liked the eccentric woman in the least. Not only was Carlotta loud and arrogant, but she could not have sung a note to save her life. He had believed that all of Paris had gone deaf on the day that she was made the lead soprano.
"Move, little girl!" she shouted at Christine in her thick Spanish accent. "Everyone is in my way today! I swear that I cannot get a single thing done right!" Monsieur Reyer, the conductor, quickly worked to console her before she walked off the stage again. Erik just waited impatiently for this nightmare of a rehearsal to be over. His only solace was watching Christine continue to make the best of things, smiling and performing to the greatest of her ability. Every so often, she would cast a quick glance in his direction, and his heart would seem to stop. For so long he had watched her from the dark depths of box five, and she had been completely oblivious to his presence.
Fifteen minutes early, Monsieur Reyer finally announced rehearsals to be over, waving his hands in the air in frustration as the performers filtered out of the room. Erik got up with a sigh and discreetly approached the stage, suddenly realizing that he had never been down there before. He had always watched from high above and within the shadows. Christine stepped down to meet him looking fairly exhausted, but her way was immediately blocked by Carlotta. Erik stood still in his steps, watching as the ornately decorated woman sauntered up to him. "And who might you be, Monsieur?" she asked somewhat flirtatiously and giving him a large smile. "An admirer, perhaps? Or that new patron who is rumored to be joining us soon?"
Erik stared at her rather coldly. "He is a composer!" chimed in Christine from behind. "A resident composer for the opera house."
"Did I ask you, girl?" the prima donna snapped. She smiled again and held out her hand for Erik to kiss. "Well, it is certainly a pleasure to meet you, Monsieur." He just stared at the ringed fingers with disdain before looking behind her and to Christine.
"Come, Christine," he said curtly. "I shall walk you to your dressing room so that you will be able to change."
Carlotta's eyes flared. "A gentleman takes a lady's hand when he is offered it," she hissed. "And you talk to this common chorus girl, instead? I shall have you fired, whomever you are!"
"I am no gentleman. Do as you wish," he replied tonelessly, firmly guiding Christine out of the room.
Christine's eyes lit up with shock, and she gave him a half-surprised and half-grateful look. "Oh! I cannot believe you treated Madame Carlotta as so! She will be furious for days!"
"Indeed."
"But are not you afraid of losing your job here? She has quite an influence with the management!"
He just gave her the vaguest hint of a smile. "Trust me, Christine, when I tell you that her future actions do not concern me in the least." She glanced back once more and gave him an odd look but said nothing else of the incident, telling him she would be out of her dressing room within several minutes.
When she once again emerged, smiling and wearing the lavender and white-laced dress, it took every ounce of his restraint to keep from grabbing her and pulling her against him. In this single day, he had already had more physical contact with a woman than he had ever had in his life, and a part of him was sure that this day would be his only chance. Yet, he did not want to alarm her in any way. He wanted that beautiful smile to stay plastered upon her face, devoid of regret or insecurity.
"Where shall we go?" she asked kindly, continuing her walk down the hall. "There are several lovely restaurants farther into the city; however, we shall need a carriage to get there. I fear that the whole trip would be rather expensive."
"Money is in no way an issue, Christine. If you are willing to journey with me in a carriage, then I would be more than pleased to take you where you wish." He checked the clock and saw that they had three to four hours before sunset. Surely that would give them enough time.
"That...would be fine, then," she replied, taking up his arm again.
He paid well for a cab and helped her into the dark, velvet interior, a calmness coming over him at finding at least momentary isolation. It was shadowed and cool inside with the curtains drawn, and he felt his heart calm down as he took a seat across from her. He admired her in the dim light for a moment, her hands folded neatly in her lap and a thoughtful look upon her face. For an unholy second, he allowed himself to wonder what she would look like in his underground world of darkness.
Christine spoke. "It is nice to be able to sit down again. Rehearsals are going to be the end of me, I fear."
"Do you enjoy dancing?" he inquired, already knowing where her heart lay.
"It is...really an honor to be able to be on stage at all," she slowly replied. "But...oh, you shall think I am silly if I tell you."
"I could never think that, Christine," he replied, leaning forward and looking directly at her. A faraway look came into her eye, and she let her guard down a bit.
"It has always been a dream of mine to sing. Since I was a little girl I have wanted to be a prima donna, probably because my father always said that I would be one." She sighed and came back to the present. "Anyhow, I am grateful for what I do have." There was a short silence, as if she was considering asking him something. "Monsieur," she finally began somewhat hesitantly. "You have...a very lovely voice, and I could not help but wonder if you sing in addition to composing."
"I am flattered, Christine. And yes, I do sing on occasion." Her eyes lit up.
"It must sound marvelous."
He did not deny this.
As he helped her out of the carriage and they went to dinner, Christine could not but help be enthralled. Once they had been alone and out of the public's eye, she had seen more deeply into her companion. Every word he spoke was beautiful and mysterious, and he seemed to have a great deal of knowledge about the world. When she had commented on an ornate silk garment, he had told her of its Persian origin. When they talked of music or the affairs of the Opera Populaire, he knew every detail...knew the notes and dynamics of every musical composition and opera ever performed. Even when passing by random buildings within the carriage, he made interesting comments on the different styles of architecture.
There was a dark edge about him in his reserved tone and occasional cynicism, particularly when they were out in public. When she had commented on the landscaping of one of the city's parks, he had bluntly told her that it was artificial and dull...merely there for the pleasure of the aristocrats. Around other people, he continued to be rigid and edgy. Alone, though, he was simply amazing, and a passion seemed to burn within him in her presence. Her heart was pounding as she walked down the street and toward their destination.
The formal restaurant was lit up with candles even though it was still several hours before sunset. Made primarily of dark wood and with the curtains drawn, the restaurant had a cozy atmosphere about it and served various dishes of meat and fish. Only a few other people occupied it, mainly just couples quietly conversing over dinner. Erik seemed more at ease than he had in the café at lunch.
"Erik," she began, after they had ordered. He looked up with mild surprise at her use of his first name. "May I ask when you plan to come back from wherever you are going? It seems a pity to have just met you now."
He closed his eyes for a moment, and she wondered if he had even heard her. Finally, he spoke. "I shall not be returning, Christine."
She felt her heart sink slightly. "But...why on earth not? Is someone in your family ill? Have you been offered another job composing?" She blushed furiously at her silly curiosity. She had no right to question his private affairs, and she knew it. What he must think of her brazenness!
Her delicate hand lay on the table next to the bread basket. In the dim candlelight at the table, she watched as he slowly picked it up into his own. Christine made no move to stop his actions. "Do you wish me to stay?" he asked her softly, looking her directly into the eye.
"Well...I..." she stuttered a moment. "It is just that I have only gotten to know you today. So...it would be nice if you were to not be off so quickly, Monsieur." She paused. "Yes, I wish you to stay."
"Oh, Christine," he sighed, letting her hand go. "It is divine to hear you say such things. If only you knew what you were saying."
Confusion marred her brown eyes, and she glanced down at the table for a moment. She looked up again. She spoke with firmness. "Monsieur, please tell me who you really are."
The clock chimed five times. Approximately two hours remained before sunset.
