Demons of the Past
Ch. 15: Let My Opera Begin! (BWAHAHA)
Author's note: I couldn't decide where I could put an accurate description of Erik's opera…so I figure I would put the opera here at the beginning. I came up with the idea partly from a chapter in Leroux's Phantom of the Opera entitled 'Apollo's Lyre'. The chapter had nothing to do with the God Apollo; Erik was hiding behind a statue resembling the god listening to Raoul and Christine. But inspiration strikes in strange places, I suppose. Amaranth means 'unfading flower' in Greek, so I thought it was an appropriate name. The opera is nothing special…in fact it features the same theme really as POTO itself…a love that can never be. But hey, I think it works well enough for my purposes, and since you aren't reading this story for Greek mythology, I figure you will forgive me.
Rose et la Nuit
Act One: Apollo is the lord of the sun; the sun rises and falls with the passage of his chariot across the sky. During the day he belongs to the Heavens; overseeing the expansion of his light over the appropriate mortals. But at night his twin sister Artemis takes over his duties as the lady of the moon, leaving Apollo free to his whims and lusts. Apollo falls for the young maiden Amaranth, who often comes to her garden at night to serenade her roses with sweet songs. Apollo is entranced by her beauty, and begins to slowly come to her as simply 'Night' for he only comes at the darkest part of the night. Amaranth is spellbound by her strange visitor, and begins to call him the God of the Moon.
Act Two: Artemis is called into council by her Amazon warriors; special chaste women warriors who do Artemis's bidding. They tell her of Amaranth and her blasphemy against the true Goddess of the Moon. Artemis flies into a rage, and goes to Amaranth in the daytime in a disguise of an old woman. Artemis asks Amaranth who rules the night, and she replies faithfully of her Voice in the Night. Artemis reveals her true self. Before Amaranth can beg forgiveness, Artemis turns her into a red rose.
Act Three and Finale: Apollo returns to Amaranth at night, as usual. He discovers the simple red rose in her place, and knows instantly what has happened to her. Apollo takes the rose to Mt. Olympus and demands that the god responsible come forward. Artemis realizes suddenly that the girl was beloved by her brother, and she comes forward as the guilty one, begging her brother's forgiveness and understanding. Apollo is infuriated that his sister betrayed him, and they fight a horrible war: night against day. The mortals know no sense of time on Earth; everything is swirled into confusion and darkness. Finally Apollo concedes, and forgives Artemis for the wrong she did him. Unable to undo her curse upon Amaranth, Artemis turns the rose immortal; it will never fade or wilt. Thus ends the opera, with Artemis heartbroken over her brother, Apollo heartbroken over his sister's wrath and the loss of Amaranth, and Amaranth forever trapped within the essence of a rose.
Disclaimer: If you read the above passage, then you know that secretly hidden in the paragraph is a sentence that claims that I own the Phantom of the Opera! (j/k; I don't own POTO, and there is no such sentence above.)
P.S.: To Lady Skywalker (yea star wars!)- You are dead on, my friend…and I will have so much fun writing it! EVIL LAUGH I certainly will try to keep coming with the updates…especially when I get reviews like yours that make me smile!
P.S.2: I did some research, and have been led to believe that Erik is a tenor…I have also heard him described as a baritone, but I read a review from a film company comparing Gerard Butler's tenor to Michael Crawford's…and therefore, in my story, Erik is a tenor. I hope that is ok with everyone.
And now, on with the story…
"I have a bad feeling about this."
Christine turned to regard her husband. He was completely dressed for the gala: black tails, elegant red and black vest; black dress shirt. Erik would have looked amazing if he wasn't currently sitting on the bed, hunched over and staring at his feet. Christine was dressed in a ball gown she had made herself: a deep red gown that flowed across her body like silk. She sat on the bed beside her husband, carefully trying not to wrinkle her apparel, which is more than could be said for Erik.
Christine had seen his rapid mood changes before. Erik could be loving and cheerful one moment, and sullen and sadistic the next. She definitely sensed his mood now: it was dark and dreary as the day was outside. Christine knew that little she could say would ease his mood, but she had to try.
"You're just nervous, Erik…try to calm yourself. Everything will be fine." Christine put a comforting hand on her husband's shoulder, but he rose sharply at her touch.
"I know something is wrong! Something is out of place; something that could ruin the show…and I just don't know what it is! Don't try to help me by saying I'm nervous; that's the same as saying that I am imagining things or that I'm mad…because I know what I am feeling!" Erik was snarling one moment, and then his head was in his hands. "I'm sorry, Christine…I just can't shake this feeling. It could be something minutely trivial, I know. But I trust this feeling-it is not nervousness; put that from your mind immediately.
Christine was a bit taken aback by his attitude. She sighed. She had had enough of this.
"Fine, Erik. Why don't you go and check with your cast then before you go to your seat? You haven't seen them in at least two hours, isn't that right? Something terrible could have happened in that two hour gap…I'll go and fetch Elisabeth, and we will meet you in the box; and since you obviously don't want to escort us yourself, perhaps Stefan or Raoul would have the honor...seeing the cast should ease your 'feelings', don't you think?" Christine's voice dripped in sarcasm.
Erik turned, an angry look on his face. "You mock me! I don't need this…especially from you! You couldn't possibly understand."
"Why, because it's too complicated for the poor lady to understand? Does your male mind grasp concepts that I will never comprehend? You are NERVOUS! Nothing more, and nothing less. But by all means, if you mean for your wife and sister to go unescorted to their seats, then go to your cast. Find out that everything is fine, and then I will be willing to accept your apology…for the insult and the argument!"
Christine stormed through the door, leaving Erik standing in the middle of the room, a tight expression on his face. Great, just great. I have had a bad feeling from the start, and now I have a guilty feeling to add with it! Erik felt the sick feeling return to him as his stomach cramped uncomfortably. Erik had half a mind to follow Christine…but the uneasiness he was feeling would not leave him. He had to investigate the source. She would forgive him…after all, she knew him too well. I don't give her enough credit, Erik thought, as he left the room. He headed immediately for backstage.
Christine angrily made her way through the corridors to Madam Giry's room. She stopped short of the door and took several calming breaths. Christine hated to argue with Erik, but he was so bullheaded…sometimes the only thing she could do to get through to him was to yell it into his ear! He is definitely in the dog house! He will have to make this up to me…Christine knocked twice on the door before her. Elisabeth opened the door, revealing her new dress. She smiled broadly.
"What do you think? Madam Giry and Meg have been helping me get dressed…"
Christine entered the room. Madam Giry was dressed in simple black, while Meg was in a stage costume. She was playing the role of the beautiful nymph Ariele; it was an important role. Ariele was the messenger between two main characters in the play. She had no speaking part; she spoke through her dance. Meg was perfect for the role, and was excited to be cast as Ariele.
"Christine you look amazing! I love your dress…Elisabeth! Show her your dilemma!" Meg spoke rapidly, her eyes shining with excitement. Christine glanced at Elisabeth, who was smiling shyly.
"Look what the Vicomte gave me," she said, a slight hint of embarrassment evident in her voice. Christine glanced down and gasped. Elisabeth held in her hand a lovely emerald necklace. Christine took it from her, admiring it in the light of the room.
"My dear, this is exquisite! I understand your dilemma…but I can tell you right now that Raoul will not accept this back, no matter how much you might demand it of him. He gave this to you freely, and he obviously wants you to have it. Raoul would be insulted if you did not wear it." Christine gave the necklace back to Elisabeth, allowing her to make the final decision. Elisabeth sighed.
"I do not want to insult Raoul…I will wear it, but I will tell him that he mustn't do this type of thing again. It is too forthcoming…for my tastes, of course."
Christine nodded. "Just enjoy the evening, Elisabeth. Enjoy everything."
Madam Giry looked around, then gazed at Christine suspiciously. "Where in the world is Erik?"
Christine grimaced. "Don't ask. We were in a bit of an argument…he should be joining us at the box."
Meg nodded enthusiastically. "What box, Christine? I'll look for you from the stage."
Christine laughed. "Why, Box Five, of course. Could we be anywhere else?"
Erik stood in the middle of a small room backstage. He had given the cast call about ten minutes before, and he now was surrounded by everyone in full costume. Erik nodded at little Meg, who walked in shutting the door behind her. That was the signal that all that were present at the Opera House were in this room. Erik cleared his throat.
"I know this is an impromptu get together, but I wanted to wish you all luck. You have worked hard, and your efforts have shown from the start. I have no doubts that each and every one of you will do their best on stage tonight. Are there any questions or concerns? Now is the time…we have roughly a half hour before the curtain rises. Yes?"
Erik pointed to the back of the room. A woman pushed forward, and Erik recognized her instantly as Mia Manuali. She was playing the second primary female role of Artemis, the moon goddess. Mia spoke rapidly and with much distress:
"Monsieur Massenet, I have not seen Mario Romanao. He and I were supposed to meet for a brief rehearsal of our fight scene, and he never showed."
Romanao was the primary male in the opera; he played the role of Apollo, god of the sun, and twin to Artemis. In a manner of speaking, Romanao was the star of the opera.
Erik regarded Mia calmly, then turned his attention to the rest of the cast. "Has anyone seen Signor Romanao?"
Slowly the heads around Erik began to shake in the negative. Erik refused to let the panic rise inside him. "Next question: where is his understudy?" There was a murmuring wave which ran through the room.
"No, Erik…we have no understudy." Stefan was gliding toward him as the cast made room for him. "He is the only tenor…no one else had the voice. Erik, if he isn't here…"
Erik closed his eyes as the migraine attacked his head. The queasy feeling returned to him full force. "It means that the show cannot go on. We will have to cancel. Please, does anyone know where he might be?"
Mia shook her head. "Monsieur, he said nothing to me. Like I said, we were supposed to meet…what will we do?" The cast was starting to panic. After all their hard work, the opera was to be cancelled. Suddenly, a small voice perked up in the back.
"Erik! You could sing it!"
Erik stared in disbelief as Meg Giry pushed herself to the front. "Who better to play the part of Apollo than the Maestro of the opera himself? You know every line, every song, every gesture…you have to do this! You're the only one that can save the show…"
Erik started to shake his head. "No…I can't. It's impossible…"
Stefan grabbed Erik by the arm. "Are you crazy, man? I have heard you…you wrote this part yourself! You're the perfect tenor-you wrote the words and melodies after your own voice! Please…"
Erik pushed Stefan away, trying to make his way to the door. He couldn't sing…he couldn't! It was too dangerous, too exposing. It was out of the question. As he walked away, he felt the eyes of forty disappointed people. Erik stopped just before the door. This is crazy…but the feeling of Don Juan came to Erik in full force: the feeling of freedom, of power…He could do this; he knew everything…he loved being on stage, loved the feel of it, the excitement. But the danger: what if someone recognized his voice? What would happen then? But what were the odds that anyone would recognize him? He would be in full costume, dressed as Apollo, who was in a sense the exact opposite of himself in every way. The dangers were fading from his mind as he glanced at his cast, and then at little Meg's determined face. Erik sighed. There was no other choice for him.
"All right…but there will have to be some changes, and quickly!"
Erik gathered Mia and Julia Standish, the girl playing the lead soprano role of Amaranth, the beautiful maiden that Apollo falls in love with. He spoke to them honestly and encouragingly; Erik spoke with a quiet confidence. He dismissed Julia, who would appear on stage first before Mia. Erik eyed Mia's addition to her costume: a large, overly embellished black mask, complete with feathers and sequins. It covered her face from her forehead to the tip of her nose, leaving her lips and chin exposed. Erik wore the twin in white. The masks had been left over from last year's Bal Masque, and luckily they were in perfect condition.
"Remember, Mia…the goddess Artemis shows her true face to no one…even when we go for curtain calls, do not remove your mask. Be mysterious; feel like you are truly the Goddess of the Night and Maidenhood. All the men are drawn to your chaste beauty, but you are unattainable. You are a warrior…know the anger and excitement of that."
Mia nodded intently. "We can do this…you look fantastic!"
Erik was dressed in a flowing white toga and gold sandals; he had a blonde wig on his head. As Apollo, god of the sun and music, Erik embodied light. His twin was the epitome of darkness; Artemis had long black hair and wore black armor over a short dress. It seemed almost an odd role for Erik, especially since his preference had always been for the darkness. That is why this opera was one of his favorites. The plot was simple and easy to follow. Erik oddly wasn't nervous; he simply wanted to get the opera over and done with, and then kill the tenor who never showed!
Erik approached the stage and got in the makeshift chariot. The curtains were about to open…Erik could hear Reyer starting the orchestra. Erik had the opening aria in La Rose et la Nuit. The music reached a peak, and the curtains flew opened. Here goes everything, Erik thought wildly as the spotlight shone on him.
Christine seated herself in Box Five. She leaned in for a better view of the crowds below her. My, Stefan wasn't joking when he said that we had a full house, Christine thought in awe. Elisabeth was beside her, eyeing the Manager's Box wearily. Christine followed her gaze and found Raoul waving excitedly from his seat. He pointed to his neck, then pointed at Elisabeth and smiled. Elisabeth inclined her head elegantly, then slid down in her seat.
"If I ignore him, will he go away?" Elisabeth murmured. Christine laughed.
"Oh come now, Elisabeth, Raoul's not that bad…I wonder where Erik is…the gala should be starting soon." At her words, the lights dimmed. Christine glanced up in alarm.
"Oh no! They are starting without him!"
"Excuse me, Madam?"
Christine turned to find a small boy standing uncertainly in the doorframe of the box. She looked at him and gestured him forward. He came towards her with a note.
"For you, Madam…"
Christine took the note, and the small boy left. Elisabeth looked in interest as Christine read the note. Her face grew red, and she passed the note to Elisabeth. It said simply, in Erik's flowing, if not hurried, script:
I told you so.
"What do you suppose he means by that?" Elisabeth eyed the note, then looked at Christine, who was staring at the stage in surprise.
"I suppose he means that!" Elisabeth followed Christine's outstretched hand. She gasped.
Standing on the stage in a grand chariot, in a blonde wig and toga, was Erik.
The opera ran smoothly. Act One continued without incident, and the audience roared their approval as a short intermission was announced. The audience was a bit confused, and rightly so; they would have two intermissions tonight: one after the first act, and one after the second. Christine rose from her seat and stretched her sore muscles. She gasped as a figured detached from the darkness and grabbed her from behind.
"Erik!"
Christine was breathless as she pulled away from his arms. Erik was still in full costume. Christine smirked a bit.
"My, my, Erik…I didn't know that you thought so much of yourself…I mean, you're a god!"
Erik laughed low in his throat. "Very funny, Christine…I told you something was wrong. Turns out that my leading tenor didn't show up."
Elisabeth turned in her chair to look at Erik. "You are wonderful! Your voice…and your opera! It's so good!"
Erik inclined his head. "Thank you, my dear. Stand up and let me see you! You look beautiful, Elisabeth…like an angel."
Elisabeth blushed. "Thank you, Erik." Erik leaned forward a bit.
"What's this?" He fingered the delicate necklace around Elisabeth's neck.
"Oh, it's nothing! It's just a small gift, is all…" Christine groaned inwardly. Elisabeth was obviously not good at lying…and her effort to detract attention from the necklace only focused Erik's attention more.
"It is a rather fine gift for you to consider it so small…who gave it to you, Elisabeth?"
Elisabeth lowered her head and grumbled. "Pardon me? I didn't hear you."
"I said, the Vicomte gave it to me as a welcoming present."
Christine watched her husband carefully. His face was still fully masked, but the burn in his eyes was telltale. "Ah…I see. Have you become friendly with the Vicomte?"
"No, not really…and what does it matter if I do? He seems nice enough…" Christine was proud that Elisabeth had stood her ground. "Brother, I know how you feel about the Vicomte…and believe me, I trust your judgment more than I do my own in the matter. But I warn you…do not forbid me to do anything. You are my brother, not my keeper."
Erik's eyes softened. "I would never do such a thing…I am just weary of a suitor who gives such a gift to a young lady such as yourself he has known for but two days. I just worry for you, Elisabeth."
Elisabeth touched Erik's arm lightly. "I trust you, Erik. I would never stand against you; not now, after all you have done for me. Raoul is a friend; nothing more."
Erik sighed, and nodded. "I do not ask for reassurance, although I am happy to take what you have offered." Elisabeth hugged Erik fiercely.
"I love you, brother…I would never do anything to harm you."
Erik was quite shocked to hear Elisabeth say those words, and was even more shocked to hear, from his own mouth:
"I love you too, little one."
Christine watched the moment, feeling out of place. Elisabeth released Erik and scuttled back to her seat. Erik smiled as she turned to face him.
"Elisabeth, if you would be so kind as to turn around?"
Elisabeth complied without knowing the reason why. She heard a brief rustle, and she turned abruptly around again. Erik had changed from his elaborate costumed mask to a simple half black mask. He glanced at Elisabeth wearily.
"You tried to peek…that is never nice manners, Elisabeth."
Christine, noticing the guilty look in Elisabeth's eyes, changed the subject. "Are you going to stay up here for Act Two? I know that Apollo does not appear in that Act…"
Erik nodded. "I figured I could enjoy the opera better if I was here with you, basking in the fact that I was right and you were wrong…it will make my viewing experience so much better."
Christine hit him on the arm. "You are so childish! Grow up!"
Erik chuckled and kissed her deeply. "I'm sorry we fought, Christine."
Christine's eyes softened. "And I'm sorry that I didn't believe your intuition. I am very glad that you went to check everything; if you hadn't, then the opera would have been ruined!"
"Let's not think about that…" The lights blinked on and off. "Let's just enjoy the spectacle around us."
In the middle of the second Act, a messenger came with a note for Erik. The missing tenor had returned, and was ready for placement in Act Three. Erik rose from his seat.
"I had better go…I am wearing his costume. Enjoy the rest of the show, ladies. I will come later for you."
Erik turned his back on Christine and Elisabeth and slipped on Apollo's mask. He made his way through the corridors, and luckily he was not spotted by anyone else. Erik knocked politely on the tenor's dressing room door, waited five seconds, and barged right in. Romanao was standing shakily by the wall, one hand resting on a chair to support himself. Stefan was already in the room, and he was in a right state.
"You're drunk! You insufferable ass! How could you, on opening night! You are fired, Signor, fired!
Romanao shrugged apologetically. "I am not drunk! I can do the opera!" To demonstrate his point, he pushed off from the wall and walked toward Erik. He promptly fell against Erik, who pushed him violently away.
"Get off me, filth! You heard the manager…you're fired! Leave this opera house immediately, before I call the guards!" Erik's voice was low and dangerous, and Romanao blinked in surprise as he recognized what Erik was wearing. He rose shakily to his feet.
"You replaced me! You went on in my place…this is an outrage! I will not stand for this insult!" Romanao's knees buckled, and his face met the floor with a loud crack. Erik and Stefan glanced at one another, then looked at Romanao. He was bleeding greatly from his nose. Erik sighed.
"We will have to escort him out, Stefan…I can finish the final Act, if that is your wish."
Stefan nodded. "We don't have a choice, Erik…and you're doing so well anyway! Please, continue, my friend."
Stefan left Erik to fetch guards to drag Romanao's carcass out of the Opera House. Erik stood for a moment, controlling his erratic breathing. He was surprised to find himself shaking. Erik's head was spinning…he didn't understand why he suddenly felt so unwell. He had to perform…but all he wanted to do was crawl into a warm bed somewhere. Erik shook the feeling off. He could control himself…he was a master at that. Erik looked into the elaborate mirror. He adjusted his costume, then headed for the stage. Just one more Act, he thought feverishly.
Erik was burning up. He had never felt so hot in his life. The bright spotlights of the stage were upon him, and sweat poured down his face behind the mask. The dizzying lights blinded him from the audience; he didn't even have the comfort of looking at Christine. The end of the Opera was close…Erik had but a few lines left to sing. He took a step toward Artemis, holding the enchanted rose tightly within his grasp. His steps faltered a bit, and then the unthinkable happened.
His voice…it died within his throat. Erik could not sing the final line of the Opera…his throat constricted and twisted. Erik's eyes widened in shock and disbelief. The audience awaited with baited breath, unaware of the problem on stage. Mia's eyes were huge as she thought desperately of a way to help her unlikely co-star. She came towards him and wrapped her arms around his body from behind. Mia pressed gently against his chest, coaxing the notes from him. Finally, Erik felt the air flood through his lungs and throat again, and he sang the last line…to his ears the notes sounded raw and distorted, but luckily his voice was drowned in the applause of the audience. The curtain closed, but it hardly dampened the sound of the thunderous applause. Erik could hardly breathe; the heat around him was stifling. He started to walk off the stage when he was met by the other actors.
"Curtain call," whispered Mia. "Then you can escape."
The curtain rose, and everyone bowed deeply. Roses were thrown onto the stage, and Erik couldn't help but smile broadly. After what seemed an eternity, the curtains finally closed again. Erik began to walk slowly through the crowds, nodding when he could at people wishing him congratulations. It seemed an effort just to walk and breathe at the same time, and he found himself pulling at his mask. Erik dared not remove it, but he so desperately needed air. He had almost turned the corner of the long corridor when he heard Stefan calling his name.
"Erik! Erik, my friend! You're a genius! Come here, come here, we need to celebrate!"
Erik knew that if he turned he would not be able to control his legs anymore; they felt like lead. He continued, finally turning the corner to an empty corridor. He was alone…Erik leaned gratefully against the wall. Just until my head quits pounding…then I'll go and find Christine...
He felt a cold hand against his hot flesh.
"Erik? Are you all right? What's wrong, man?" The voice seemed to be coming from far away. All Erik was aware of was the burning pain in his head…and the horrible pain in his stomach. He tried to move from the wall, but he faltered, falling to his knees.
"Erik! Erik, can you hear me!"
"Breathe…I can't breathe…" Erik's normal voice was broken and raw; Stefan could hardly recognize it. Erik started clawing at his face, at his mask. If he could just get it off, then he would feel better. Erik didn't care if anyone saw…he would die if he didn't get the mask off!
"Raoul, help me get him into his bedroom! He's sick…he's burning with fever. Help me, man…then go find Christine."
"Christine…" Erik repeated softly. He felt two pairs of hands guide him from his knees to rise slowly.
"Erik, it's all right…we're almost there." Raoul and Stefan led Erik through the doorway of the room he shared with Christine. Stefan guided him to the bed. Erik started clawing at his mask, and managed to rip it off. Raoul had seen the frightening visage before, but Stefan was taken aback. Raoul grasp Stefan firmly by the arm.
"I will go for Christine…don't let him know you have seen him. I know it's a sight…but he is just a man. Don't let him know that you have seen him…" Raoul's voice was strangely calm, and he felt the deep seated pity return for his rival. No matter how much he hated him, Raoul could not imagine the type of life he had had to endure all because of a deformity. Raoul left swiftly, leaving Erik and Stefan alone.
Stefan came closer to Erik, who was lying motionless on the bed. He seemed to be asleep. Sweat was pouring from his face, and he was gasping for breath. Stefan inspected the horror that was his patron's right profile and winced at the sight. The flesh was raw and reddish; it was twisted and distorted into bumps and crevices across his face. The eye socket was deformed, and flesh protruded and hung loosely from his eye. Stefan could see the blood vessels traveling across his right side; he could see the bright pulsating blood as it traveled through them.
"Christine…Christine," Erik murmured softly to himself. "So cold…so cold…" Stefan looked at Erik in shock, and realized that of course he would be cold: he had a high fever. Stefan did the best he could to cover him with the sheets from the bed. He glanced around the room and noticed a vase of flowers on the dresser in the corner of the room. He emptied the flowers, then dumped the water in a rag. Stefan put the rag on Erik's burning forehead. Erik quieted and said no more. Stefan looked away, ashamed that he could no longer bear tolook at Erik's face…
(Occurring at the same time as above events)
Christine watched as her husband entered the stage for the final moments of his Opera. She admired him from her seat; he truly was handsome. Christine took in the audience for a moment. They were hanging onto to Erik's every word; their eyes followed him as he walked across the stage. Erik was in his element: the world of music that he himself had cultivated for so long in secret and seclusion. Christine turned her eyes back to Erik, and was surprised to see him take a misstep. He opened his mouth to sing…and no words came out. The audience did not know that something was amiss; but Christine had never heard Erik miss a cue or entrance before. Something was wrong…Christine's eyes narrowed as she studied her husband's masked face. The eyes…Erik was truly frightened and shocked. Christine had half risen in her seat. Elisabeth tore her eyes from the stage to glance at her.
"Christine, is something wrong?"
"I don't know…" She watched as Artemis crossed the stage to hug Erik hard against his chest. The words finally emerged, but they were not in the melodious, angelic voice that was the voice of her Angel of Music; Erik sang as if his throat had ripped in two. The crowd applauded and stood to their feet in an instance, roaring their approval of Erik's opera. Christine felt the pride rush through her body. He had done it! Everyone loved his work! Christine saw the curtain rise again, revealing all the players. Christine rose to her feet along with everyone else. She glanced at Raoul and Stefan and discovered that their box was already empty. As the curtain closed again, the crowds below started to dissipate. Christine took to her seat again. She glanced at Elisabeth.
"What did you think, my dear? Was the opera to your taste?"
Elisabeth's eyes were bright. "It makes me want to sing here even more! Erik was simply perfect…do you think the audience noticed the change in tenors?"
Christine shook her head. "I don't know, but he was definitely the star of the show…the audience was captivated every time he opened his mouth, or every time he moved across the stage."
"I am anxious to see him…when do you think he will come for us?"
Christine shrugged. "I don't know…anytime now." On cue, a figure burst through the doorway. It was Raoul.
"Christine, Erik is sick. Please, come with me…he is asking for you."
Christine rose from her seat frantically. "Sick! Is it a fever?"
Raoul shook his head. "I know not. Stefan is with him."
"Take me to him."
Raoul led the way swiftly. Christine entered the room, Elisabeth right behind her. Raoul grabbed her hand.
"No, Elisabeth. Stay here with me."
She pushed at Raoul angrily. "Let me go! I want to see my brother!" Raoul looked at her, then hooked his arm through hers.
"You would just be in the way…come on, I want to show you something."
Elisabeth refused to budge. "You are a fool if you think I am leaving my brother!" She pulled her arm out of his, and started to open the door. Raoul pushed the door closed.
"Have you ever seen your brother without his mask?"
Elisabeth was taken aback by the question. "What difference does that make now!"
Raoul sighed. "Just answer my question!"
"No, I have not! He doesn't want me to see…now move!"
Raoul refused. "My dear…Erik is sick…he doesn't have his mask on now. I know that if he has not let you see him before, he will not be happy if he discovers that you saw him in his fit of fever. Trust me…just come with me!"
Elisabeth now wanted more than ever to enter the room where her brother was…she wanted to see what laid beyond the mask. But she could also see the wisdom in Raoul's words. Finally, she succumbed. "All right…but let's go and check on Brian first…I have a feeling we will be staying the night here.
Christine approached the bed, relieving Stefan of the chair he was sitting in. Stefan had been staring blankly ahead. Erik had not moved, but his face was still red and hot to the touch.
"Stefan, go. You have an afterparty to enjoy…just tell the cast how proud Erik was to be able to perform with them tonight. I can take care of him from this point."
Stefan nodded stiffly. Christine looked at him in understanding.
"Now you know why he hides behind his mask…people will not accept him, merely because of the way he looks. You are his friend…please tell me that you do not think less of him because of his face."
Stefan dropped his shoulders. "I feel ashamed…I do not think less of him, Christine…but I do pity him. I pity all the things that he must have had to go through. I am sorry."
Christine nodded sadly. "It's all right, Stefan. Please go and enjoy your party."
Stefan left, his head hanging low. Christine touched a hand to her husband's face. He stirred and opened his eyes. Erik stared with unfocused eyes, but he smiled when he recognized Christine's face.
"Christine…I feel like I've been run over by a carriage, and I want them to back up and finish the job! I'm freezing!" He tried to pull covers up over his body, but Christine stopped him.
"Angel, you're still in costume. Let's get you changed, then I'll go for the doctor."
Erik pulled away. "I won't see a doctor. I just have a cold…Marie has some of my medicine…I'll take that." Erik's voice was low, and Christine could tell that it hurt him to speak. She kissed his hot forehead. "I never get sick…I hate this…"
"It is not surprising that you're sick! You have been under a tremendous amount of pressure and stress, not to mention that you rode in the rain today!" Erik sighed, and turned an interesting shade of green. He leaned over to the side of the bed and emptied the contents of his stomach. Erik continued to shake as his body expelled everything from his system. Christine held his shoulders, stroking his hair to keep it out of his face. He finally stopped, and leaned back in the bed.
"I'm sorry…" Erik said weakly.
"Don't worry about it…I'll clean it up and get something for you to do that in for next time."
"Uhhh, I don't want a next time!"
After Christine got the mess cleaned up and handed Erik a bedpan, she went to find Madam Giry. She found her talking to her ballerinas in one of the hallways. Christine waited until they were dismissed, but Madam Giry saw Christine first and waved the girls away.
"Christine! I thought you would be at the afterparty…where is Erik? He was simply wonderful tonight, although I cannot tell you how shocked I was to find him out there…" Christine nodded her head automatically.
"Madam Giry, Erik is sick…I don't know how he was able to perform at all! He said that you had some of his 'medicine'. Do you know what he is talking about?"
Madam Giry inclined her head. "I think so. Come with me."
They went down the corridor, dodging the various people who were partying in the halls. Madam Giry opened the door.
"Erik has always made his own medicines…he is quite talented. The idea of a doctor is laughable to him; Erik knows more about medicine and the human body than most anyone. What are his symptoms?"
Christine told in detail. Madam Giry murmured to herself, then picked up two bottles. "These should do it! Have him take these…he'll know what they are. I think one is going to make him sleep." Madam Giry handed Christine the bottles. "It is such a shame for him to get sick in his moment of triumph…he saved the opera, and everyone loved him! Give him a kiss for me, dear. And don't worry about Elisabeth and Brian…I'll take care of them."
Christine left and returned to Erik, and was surprised to see him out of bed. She came toward him.
"Angel, what are you doing out of bed?"
Erik grimaced. "I hate just lying there…besides, if you have the medicine, I should be fine soon…it was just the heat under the lights! I was scorching and I felt as if I couldn't breathe." Christine handed him the medicine, and he downed them both in two big gulps.
"Damn! I should really make this stuff taste better," Erik said wincing slightly. Erik's face darkened. "Christine, I wasn't wearing my mask when I woke up…what happened to it?"
"Raoul said that you took it off when you first entered this room…I don't think you knew what you were doing, love." Erik narrowed his eyes.
"Who was in the room?"
Christine hesitated. "Stefan."
Erik sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. His head was still pounding. Erik closed his eyes, not wanting to look at Christine's face. "What…"
Christine sat beside him. "It's fine, love…what, did you think that he had run away screaming? He is your friend…he wouldn't do that to you! You were sick…Stefan was trying to help you."
"I know…I know. I don't think we can make it home tonight. We'll stay here the night…then we can go home." Another thought entered Erik's mind. "How is Elisabeth? Did she like the show?
"She loved it, Angel…and right now she is with Raoul."
Erik growled low in his throat. He started pacing the room. "So help me, I am going to strangle that man! What business does he have messing around with my sixteen year old sister! The Vicomte and I are going to have a chat, and I am afraid he will not like the outcome." Erik stopped his movement frantically as he located the bedpan. He vomited violently. When the heaving stopped, he glanced at Christine.
"See! I get sick just thinking about the fop!"
Christine glared at him. "Raoul stopped Elisabeth from entering the room, Erik…while you were asleep on the bed, with no mask on! He knew you weren't concealed, and knew that you didn't want Elisabeth to see! Raoul was trying to help…and Elisabeth can make her own decisions about Raoul. She has a good head on her shoulders; she will do what she thinks is best. If you tell her not to see Raoul, you are just as surely giving her the incentive to do it."
"How do you know that?"
"Because Elisabeth is just like you! Bullheaded! What about all those times that Raoul tried to hide me away from you? Or the times when I didn't want to see you...you always were there. Nothing could stop you."
Erik smirked through the queasy look on his face. "I guess you have a point...I always did like a challenge."
Christine nodded. "Exactly. You can't do much about this, Erik. Just trust in Elisabeth."
Erik closed his eyes, willing the room to stop spinning around him. "I'm still going to have a little talk with the Vicomte…what if his intentions are to use her as a means to get to me? What if he plays with her heart to merely see me tortured?"
"Raoul would not do that, Erik. He is honorable."
"Oh yeah, real honorable. He barged in on us yesterday morning! You could have been nude!" Erik's eyes burned with fever and rage. "Oh, and if he had seen you as such…I would have killed him where he stood."
"Oh Erik! You're sick…you don't know what your saying."
Erik felt the bile rise through his throat, and found himself heaving again. "Damn! I hate this! I had that bad feeling all day today…and now I'm sick! It doesn't end for me…it will never end." Finally, the fit of dry heaves was over. Erik found himself too weak to walk or stand anymore. Christine guided him to the bed.
"What did happen to the tenor, Erik?"
Erik laughed, short and sharp. "He showed up drunk…and that one foolish act on his part creates so many problems! The next performance is a fortnight from now; we either find another tenor or I have to perform again."
"Would that be so bad?"
Erik shook his head. "No, I suppose it wouldn't be. I love being on stage…if only you were with me…as Amaranth…it would…have been…perfect." Erik's voice trailed off as sleep took over. He crawled into the bed, and Christine pulled the covers tightly against him. She turned to leave when Erik snaked his hand to catch her wrist.
"Don't leave me…"
Christine climbed into the bed with him, and held him gently as he drifted to a dreamless sleep.
Raoul grasped Elisabeth's hand firmly as he led her up the many ladders to the roof. Elisabeth was starting to protest.
"Raoul! It's late…where in the world are you taking me?"
"You'll see…and don't worry, we'll be back in plenty of time for the party."
Raoul finally reached the last door. "All right, close your eyes."
"I will do no such thing!"
"Come on…please?"
"No!"
"You're spoiling the fun! Trust me!"
Elisabeth sighed. "Oh, all right…"
Raoul glanced at Elisabeth, and led her through the door way. The night was a bit chilly, and Elisabeth shivered in her gown.
"Are we outside? It's freezing out here!"
Raoul led her to the edge of the roof. "Open your eyes."
Elisabeth gasped. "Oh my gosh! This is so beautiful! All of Paris, from a bird's eye view! Oh, Raoul…thank you for showing me this."
Raoul nodded. "You need to see the beauty of Paris…although it is nothing compared to your own."
Elisabeth blushed. "Why would you say such a thing? I'm just a girl…"
"I only speak the truth, Elisabeth…I see that your wearing the necklace I gave you."
Elisabeth touched it delicately. "Thank you for this, Raoul. You shouldn't have."
"I wanted to…you deserve something as delicate and lovely as you." Elisabeth shivered a bit. Raoul took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.
"Thank you," Elisabeth said, as the warmth of the jacket spread through her body. "You know, it's always beautiful after rain…"
"It is indeed…what do you like most about Paris so far, Elisabeth?" She gazed out at the beautiful Paris skyline and smiled.
"The people I've met…they have all been so wonderful to me. Madam Giry had really made me feel at home at the Opera House, and Meg is so sweet! I can see us becoming good friends…and of course Christine! She is truly amazing. She is so open and honest; it is quite refreshing to talk to someone with nothing to hide. You know, I never was around many people in my village; there was a few that I talked to but I didn't make many friends. I think I have made more friends in the two days I have been here than any other time in my life!"
Raoul nodded wistfully, noticing that he wasn't in that group. "Elisabeth, if you don't mind my asking…you seem a bit standoffish towards me. Have I done something to offend you?"
"No, Raoul…it's just that I don't know you very well." Raoul could tell there was more.
"And?" he prompted gently.
"Please don't take this the wrong way, Raoul…but my brother dislikes you. And right now, I trust his feelings more than my own. I understand that you both vied for Christine's affections; that is enough to make any man an enemy. But still…I just don't know you well enough, that is all."
Raoul was, to say the least, crushed. Once again his rival had foiled him, and this time he wasn't even aware of it!
"How can I prove to you that I am a noble man with noble intentions?"
Elisabeth smiled. "You could start by ceasing the gifts and flirtations. What kind of girl would I be if I swooned every time you walked by? Just treat me like a person, Raoul. Be someone I can talk to…then I can judge for myself what kind of man you are."
Raoul nodded. "You are right, of course. I have been much too forward with you. One moment I'm biting your head off in the Manager's Box, and the next I'm buying you a necklace! I just…really want to get to know you, Elisabeth. As a gentleman, of course. And the first thing a gentleman would say is that it is much too cold for a lady such as yourself to be outside! Let's get you back inside…there's still a party going on downstairs! If you want, we can stop and check on your brother."
Raoul offered Elisabeth his arm. She hesitated for a fraction of a second, then took it. They walked together from the roof and headed for the grand celebration in Erik's honor. Since he can't attend, I should have twice as much fun to honor him, Elisabeth thought happily as Meg grabbed her arm to introduce her to people. Elisabeth spent the rest of the night meeting new people, dancing, and having a great time. The night disappeared into day as finally the time of Erik's first gala came to a close. And as for Erik? He spent the rest of the night violently ill, catching up on the undo stress he had put on his body. Erik vowed never to become sick again!
Author's note 2: Holy beans! This chapter is nineteen pages in Microsoft word…and over seven thousand words. This is, by far, the most I have written for a chapter. I hope that you have enjoyed reading about Erik's Opera. And poor Erik! Well, maybe it worked out for the best. He wouldn't have liked the party anyway…LOVE YA'LL Please Review!
To Emily: To answer your questions in order: 1. We are not talking about the same smartie…although I am rather fond of the candies myself. 2. What do you think? Wouldn't it ruin the surprise if I said anything? 3. I like that song (the Edwin McCain version, just not into country all that much); I heard it on the radio while in the middle of writing Ch. 14 and it sorta fit. 4. The twins will be along soon…After this chapter the story will skip forward a few months (probably; I won't swear on my dog's life). 5. I can't tell you…but I will say that one of the twins will be named after a pre-existing character (dead or alive I cannot say). 6. No you did not annoy me with your questions; in fact, I enjoyed answering them. And I will update soon, because I do not want you and your Mr. Monkey to cry. I will send you some bananas and chocolate. Or maybe I won't…since from your review you seemed a tiny tiny tiny bit hyper; perhaps no sugar for you!