Blind Mask

(by Nicole Gruebel)

Disclaimer: … see chapter 1

Summary of the past chapters: Erik regrets that he sent Christine away with Raoul and forms plans to win her back. So he tries to overcome his ruthlessness and takes care of Noelle, who was blinded by the fire at the opera. But this is no easy task for someone like the desperate Phantom.

Many thanks to my beta-reader Lotte Isilya, who had been quiet for a while, but helped cleaning up this chapter. And TheGoddessofDeath was so kind to correct some more mistakes that I still had in it.

Erik'sTrueAngel and TheGoddessofDeath … I'm sorry that this chapter doesn't reveal more about the letter yet.

RyuDracones … I think my story doesn't have much reviews, because most phans prefer EC-stories, but that's ok. Like this I'm even happier about every single one I get. And I like to get some good advice from reviews like yours.

LoneWolf2005 … I'm glad that you like 'my' Erik and how I set up the relation between him and the two women. I hope you'll review again, so that I can find your own phanfiction through your registered name.

Spikes Bint … well, I hope my telling about Noelle's blindness still isn't becoming boring. I try my best!

Chapter 6 – On their own (Part I)

Erik glided from shadowed corners to abandoned back yards. His nerves were on edge, because he was without his mask and he lacked sleep. At last the thick curtain of cold rain which was pouring down from the gray sky gave him some cover. It wasn't only blurring the view, but he had a good excuse to bury his face deep in the hood to hide his deformity.

Due to the weather there were even less people on the streets than usual at this early hour, and that was quite good for the plans of the former Opera Ghost. Erik had recently gained the knowledge of where Christine was living at the moment, but he had not dared to go there right away. In this moment he stood in a narrow alley opposite of the big building. It had been the mansion of some nobleman, but since his heirs had not had any intentions to live in Paris they had rebuilt it into a few exclusive apartments.

Erik's mood darkened. He could imagine all too well who had arranged that Christine and the two Giry women would find lodging here. 'This Vicomte thinks he can buy everything with his noble name and his family's money. But he owns nothing but his pretty face. I can build you a palace with my own hands, but I know your soul needs more than that.' With a determined look on his face the man headed towards the back of the building.

OOO

It was as silent as a grave. Noelle could hear the sound of her bandaged hands moving over the blanket as if it was as loud as a storm, although she knew it was nothing more than a whisper. "Monsieur Erik?" Her voice was unsure; she had tried in vain to call him several times already. The blind woman wasn't sure for how long she had listened into the silence for any sign of him. Perhaps five minutes, perhaps five hours.

Noelle resisted the urge to clutch at the sheets; she bit her lip to keep herself from shaking. 'Is he watching me? Has he gone out?' She expected to hear his voice - or any other sound - every second, but at the same time she was so tense that she would jump at the slightest noise. Part of her wished to crawl beneath the blanket and wait to wake up from this sightless nightmare.

'I don't want to appear helpless and frightened' she thought as she tried to calm down. If Erik was around she definitely would not show him this weakness. "Ayesha? Are you here?" Noelle leaned forward and groped around carefully with her hands. To look for the cat was a better excuse than asking for help. There was the rim of the bed ... the opposite side ... the foot of it. Obviously it was empty but for herself. 'I wish I had some sixth sense that would tell me if somebody was near or anything like that ...' This foolish idea was a reminder of her childhood, when she had wished for good fairies to help her and such things.

For the first time in days she didn't feel weak or dizzy. The injuries still hurt, especially when she moved too carelessly, but it was bearable. Her wounded eyes were causing a constant headache though. For a few moments Noelle considered removing the bandages from her head and her fingers studied the cloth there. 'He said I might see again if the eyes can heal. He might have lied to me to keep me blindfolded ... but it also might be the truth.' She still couldn't notice any sign of Erik in the room, heard no warning that she should leave the bandages alone. Tears of fear and despair began to sting in the wounded eyes. 'How shall I live on being blind!'

OOO

Erik contemplated entering the building through a cellar-door. It would have been no problem for him to pick the lock, if it was sealed at all. But he would have to move around in a house that was unknown to him, servants might be awake already, and his wet cape might leave treacherous tracks.

So he chose to climb up the gutter, which seemed solid enough to hold his weight. In all those years on various building sites and later in the opera house he had gained very good climbing skills and amazing balance. Only few men could have stood and even a smaller number could have moved on the narrow ledge over the first row of windows like he did. That was probably why the caretakers of this house didn't care that the fire escape ladder was pulled up only till this height and offered now a rather easy access for him to the upper floors.

The man from whom he had bought Christine's current address had been a coachman who frequently worked in this part of town. For an additional fee he had told Erik where he had carried the luggage of the three women, who fit his description of the ones he was looking for. The apartment beneath the roof on the south side of the house was his goal now.

While there had been some sounds and even some rays of light behind the shutters on the ground floor, everything was still silent and dark in the higher levels of the house. It was still raining and Erik was once more grateful that he had pulled on his gloves before leaving. He never would have been able to climb up here without them, and his fingers surely would have been too numb to open one of the roof-windows, just as his whole body was freezing right now.

The attic was dark, damp and stuffy, but at last there was no cold wind and no rain. In fact the man who had haunted the opera house felt quite at home here. After removing his wet cape, he explored the vast room slowly and carefully. The house was well built, but Erik didn't want to draw attention to him because of some creaking beams. He wanted to catch any sound that might drift up to him.

A soft humming stopped him. For a few seconds he didn't breathe and hid behind one of the larger joists, his Punjab lasso ready to strike. Then a knowing small smile crept on his face and he relaxed again. The sound didn't come near him like from a servant who was going to fetch something from the attic ... it floated to him from the floor, and he recognized the tune.

'So, my dear Madame Giry ... you are up early, as usual. I guess Christine is in good care with you. I bet it was your doing that this arrogant Vicomte didn't take her with him instantly. After all, this would have been highly inappropriate for his and her reputation.' Erik considered using Madame Giry again as an intermediary to Christine, but he hesitated. Someone had shown Raoul the way down to his lair, and only few people had known how to get there, not all were still alive. He owed the ballet-mistress enough that he was reluctant to throw away his trust in her without a proof, but she might have changed her attitude about his relationship with Christine. Sometimes she could be just too protective and alert when her girls were involved.

Since he had studied architecture nearly as passionate as music, Erik could judge pretty well how the apartment beneath him was structured. There were hints everywhere for the educated eye ... how the building had looked from outside, where certain joists were placed, the preferences of noble families … and the chimneys of the fireplaces. The one that most likely was connected to Christine's bedroom was warm. When he touched it, he nearly could sense a connection to his beloved.

After Erik was sure that Madame Giry was busy in a different room, he opened the nearest roof-window to Christine's room. He was lucky that it was still rather dark with rain outside and it wasn't very likely that somebody would look so high up in this weather. Furthermore the room obviously faced to a side street. The building on the opposite side was under construction right now and seemed deserted at the moment, so Erik decided it was safe enough to climb out of the window. With the agility of an acrobat he got down to a narrow balcony, which was more for decoration than for enjoying the view. However, it was strong enough to hold his weight and it granted him a sight that made his heart beat harder than any risk he had taken on his way here.

OOO

Again Noelle had no idea how much time had passed since her last panic-attack. At some point she had decided to not make herself crazy. One of the stable hands in a place she once had worked for a few weeks had been nearly blind of age, but he had been getting along somehow. And after all there was still a chance that her eyes would heal, if Erik told the truth. He hadn't taken advantage of her till now or treated her bad, quite the contrary even. 'I won't give up so easily ... I'll find a way to go on!' she swore to herself.

"Monsieur Erik ... could I have some water, please?" her voice shivered a bit, because part of her still believed that he was watching her silently. But there was no answer and no sign of living company at all. So Noelle started to feel around the rim of the bed till she found the nightstand. She dimly remembered that Erik seemed to have placed stuff on something next to the bed from time to time, and she had guessed there must be something like this around.

Indeed her fingers soon felt the cool, smooth surface of a cup. There were two larger forms next to it: one seemed to be a jug, but she couldn't quite picture what the other one might be. While her featherlike touches tried to explore the unknown object she found a book on the little table. So she guessed Erik might have some kind of lamp there.

Before she tried to take a sip out of the cup, Noelle was careful enough to sniff at its content first. It smelled like the tea he had given her occasionally and so she eagerly gulped the last few swallows that had remained in the cup. Since she still was thirsty she tried to bring the jug in the position to refill the cup. Her hands were shaking a little and so Noelle felt some of the fluid run over her fingers at the first try. After getting a better hold on the jug's handle she was more successful. But since she didn't notice when the cup was full she spilled some more tea and heard it dripping from the nightstand on the floor. 'I guess he will scold me for that. What if I spoiled the book?' The young woman had worked for enough masters who would even beat her for such a fault, but she hoped Erik wouldn't be so harsh on her.

The complete lack of any reaction or help with the tea convinced Noelle that she really had to be alone at the moment. For a few moments this caused another wave of panic in her. 'What if something happens!' She couldn't really think straight enough then to imagine something concrete, but it frightened her nevertheless. This fear of helplessness and the determination not to give in to it made her get out of bed. Part of her wanted to flee this place or find somebody, part of her was just sick of being so unknowing and literally blind to her surroundings.

The lack of sight still influenced her balance and she had to grab for something to hold on. Since Noelle knew she was facing the bed at the moment, she guessed that she braced herself against the headboard of it right now. It seemed to be carved with some elaborate ornaments. 'Perhaps I can try to feel the look of it later' she thought as curiosity welled up. When her other hand tried to find the rim of it, she realized that there was some thick, soft cloth on the wall behind it. At first she thought it had to be the curtain of a window, but it didn't take long till she was sure there was only solid stone behind it. With a mixture of disappointment and confusion she moved on.

Noelle's first steps alone out of the bed lead her to the throne-like armchair. It was more or less a few steps opposite to the bed's foot, as she remembered from the few times Erik had guided her there. When she felt carvings on this furniture, too, she wondered if they would match those on the bed. 'Where to now?' "Ayesha? Monsieur Erik?" She didn't really expect an answer, but was even a little bit relieved when the room remained silent again. 'What would he think, if he saw me walking around like this?'

She remembered the direction from where the noises came whenever Erik was preparing food or medicine. Slowly her hands tried to find the wall and her feet shuffled forward. Noelle was grateful that most of the floor seemed to be covered with carpets, because she had no idea where her shoes might be. Since it took a lot of concentration to memorize her route and whatever furniture she discovered, this trip became nearly as exhausting as the many steps of the tower last night. 'Was it last night?' The woman wondered again how many time had passed.

When her fingers found a seemingly large shelf she stopped for a while and tried to find out what was stored in it. There were all sorts of bottles and boxes, sheets of paper, books and other rather common stuff for which she hardly had any use now. But she also touched some items with a strange texture or shape in all sizes, which she just couldn't recognize. Although Noelle was cautious at first, she started to knock over some pieces after a time. 'Please, don't let it be damaged!' She thought and tried to place them where they had been.

OOO

The shutters of the big windows hadn't been closed and the expensive curtains were drawn apart just enough to grant a look inside the room. The steady warm glow of the fireplace bathed everything in a dim light. It seemed as if its inhabitants didn't want to be left in darkness.

For far longer than was safe for him, Erik stood on the narrow balcony and watched Christine's sleeping form. He couldn't move, but right now he didn't want to be anywhere else. He hardly could breathe, but he felt as if he would die happy if his time would come now; he had found his angel again.

Some noise on the street below woke him from the trance. If he hadn't been trained by his hard life to always be alert, he would have been startled so much that he might have lost his balance or made a treacherous sound. Now he just reached out and opened the window slowly with knowing, skilled fingers and stepped inside.

Christine seemed to unconsciously respond to his presence, for the strained look on her face softened and a soft sigh escaped her lips. But perhaps it was just a reaction to the breeze of fresh air that came in with him. Meg, who slept in the same bed, but with her back to the window, didn't move at all or show any other signs of perceiving the visitor. The man just stood there. A small pool of water gathered beneath his feet, as he was soaked with cold rain. The subdued light masked his deformed features a bit.

It was hard for Erik not to just close the distance between him and his angel, but he didn't dare it. Meg was here, Madame Giry in another room nearby. Part of him knew he was in great danger here to be discovered, yet he didn't want to leave. His trembling fingers reached out and caressed Christine's face from afar. Tears began to sting in his eyes when he nearly could feel her warmth, although he touched nothing but empty air.

A movement to his right, nearly out of his range of vision, caught his attention. As if he had been stricken by a hard blow he staggered a step backwards and a low moan of misery emerged his throat. The secret visitor had been discovered by his own dreadful mirror-image, and vice-versa.

Erik averted his eyes when he went near the dressing table. He couldn't bear to watch himself unmasked, especially not while such beauty lay unaware just a few steps away, sleeping innocently. So he placed the sealed envelope next to a hairbrush. And of course he hadn't forgotten to bring a single blood-red rose, too, decorated with a black ribbon.

To be continued …