A/N: Okay. I know I haven't been winning any popularity contests among you all lately, as Jema so kindly pointed out. But may I remind you that we just came through like four or five chapters of fluff, so I should get some credit for that? One clue for this chapter: you know I like to include lots of letters in my fics. Keep your eye on the envelope. I will say no more.
phantomann: I know. I would prefer for Christine to suffer as opposed to Erik or Nadir, but right now, no one is very darn happy, are they? But Christine's anguish becomes most acute in this chapter. So that should please you, you sadistic woman you.
Twinkle22: Sorry to keep you in agony. No help for you in this one either.
Kagome1514: Sorry, dear, but I did warn you this would be an angsty fic. If you want more warm fuzzies, check out my other two fics. My angst alert will be at "Red" meaning "high alert" for the remainder of this fic I can't help it. I like writing angst. It is more fun. Sorry!
LiltingBanshee: I remember you. Glad to have you back and I am also pleased you are enjoying the fic. If it helps at all, E and C's misunderstanding is not what they should be worried about right now. Bigger threats to their happiness are looming up ahead.
xo-little-lotte-xo: Thank you, dearie. I love Nadir too, but sacrifices must be made for the sake of the plot. Actually, he will recover somewhat in this chapter.
Pertie: Thank you. A lovely, extremely polite review as always and I am delighted to offer my attempts at entertainment to you all. I should be thanking all of you for reading it.
draegon-fire: It appears that I have you stumped. Yay! I think you will find that objects in this story are not as they appear. Cryptic enough for you? Thanks for the review.
lafemme540: Yes, Christine could have asked Erik to come along. But in my mind, they are still a bit shy and unsure around each other. They have loved each other intensely for years, but have never had the opportunity to realistically envision a future together. So they are still in that stage where you sort of hope the other person will bring up taking the relationship to the next level. They haven't clarified the nature of their relationship yet.
erikfan: Did I miss you on this one?
XCiel: Sorry to frustrate you. But, we can't just let them live happily ever after of the story would be over. That would be not good, right? Thanks for the review.
Mz. Kelsi: Yay! Midwesterners rule! Yes, I know everything is a horrible mess right now, but never fear, I can untangle all the plot knots I have created, if I want to, that is. Stay tuned.
darklady5289: I am afraid that the information you seek is confidential. I can neither affirm nor deny the fate of Nadir. You will just have to wait. And it was high time Nadir gave Erik a talking to, wasn't it?
Wilting Angel: Can I come out now? I have been in hiding from your angry wrath. I am very sorry that I took Erik's happiness away. We are talking deep repentance here. Am I forgiven?
eternalcelestial: I think even you will have to admit that was a slightly schizophrenic review. I have succeeded in flustering you! I think the gist was positive, so thanks. More plot twists in this one.
MadameOG: I love irony too. That is why I use it overmuch. Thanks! Oh, and don't slap too hard.
xxphantomphanessxx: Speaking to fictional characters is a side effect of reading too much fanfiction. Just ask me. "Erik, would you like to come along to pick up the drycleaning?" Erik says yes. And don't worry, now that Christine has had a glimpse of life with Erik, she isn't about to let wounded pride get in the way.
Hearts Aflame: No pouting in this fic! Pull yourself together, girl. There is much more to come. Ch. 20 should be read for personal enjoyment, not as an escape from the angst to come. USE ONLY AS DIRECTED!
JemaModa: Jema, I agree with you totally. I have sympathy for Erik, of course, and Nadir too, but absolutely none for our heroine. She has had Erik all to herself for two blissful weeks. Hey, we all love him too. How many weeks do we all get? NONE! So in all fairness, Christine should be feeling sorry for us. By the way, Jema, how is that fic coming. We are all waiting...
Ch. 23 – A Deal with the Devil
Christine endured the long train ride in silent thought. Her tears had long since dried and during the hours of her journey, her mind had cleared sufficiently to allow her reasonable thought. Erik loved her. There was no doubt in her mind. Something must have happened to prevent him from bidding her farewell that morning. No matter what his feelings about her accepting the position at La Scala, he would never allow anything to come between them again. Of this, she was certain. And she doubted hell itself in all its fury would be sufficient to restrain him when he chose to find her once again.
No, what pained her now was no longer uncertainty, but the simple anguish of missing him. How on earth would she survive three long months without him when her heart was aching in his absence after only three short hours?
She leaned her head against the window, completely oblivious to the blurred images of the lovely countryside beyond it. At last, the outskirts of Milan pulled into view, and she felt the nervous fluttering of butterflies in her stomach. Whereas Florence had a soft, peaceful charm, Milan was a bustling commercial center oozing sophistication. Though the city was certainly beautiful in its own distinct fashion, it seemed to her colder somehow, sharper in appearance and manner than the gentle grace of Florence. As the train pulled into the depot, the people on the platform appeared somehow too clear and perfect – their dress, their facial features, everything seemed far too polished, almost unnatural.
Christine sighed as she lifted her bag and exited the train. There was no one at the station to greet her, no familiar blue-gray eyes or strong arms to welcome her to what would be her home for the next three months. She bit her lip, trying desperately not to burst into tears. She felt lonely and hopelessly out of her element - alone in a sea of unfamiliar faces.
She hailed a nearby hansom and oversaw the loading of her trunks. Within a few moments, they were off. Christine instructed the driver to take her to an inn near the opera house. She felt weak and shaken, and needed a night to rest and gather her courage before the trial by fire that the morning would bring.
Once she arrived at the inn, she paid the driver in return for his promise to come by to collect her and her things again in the morning. Unlocking the door of her room, Christine dragged her things inside and collapsed unceremoniously on the bed. Perhaps things would appear differently in the morning, but at the moment, she was feeling very acutely that she might have made an immense mistake.
When she had first been offered the opportunity to sing at La Scala, she and Erik's relationship had only just begun. She had jumped at the chance without a second thought. But now, after knowing the simple joy of what life with him could be, all the fame and luxury of the world's grandest opera house seemed to pale in comparison.
Christine removed her heavy traveling clothes and tugged on her nightdress. She hadn't eaten all day and decided not to, since her stomach was already tied in a bundle of nerves related to tomorrow's events. She flopped down in a chair by the window, feeling restless and exhausted at the same time.
Suddenly, she had a thought. There was a tiny desk in the room and she moved over to it, hastily rummaging through the drawers. Finding what she was looking for, she sat down by the lamplight and began to write.
Dearest Erik,
I have arrived safely in Milan, but I find my thoughts are still with you in Florence. I do not know why you were not there to bid me farewell, but I trust that something urgent must have required your attention. I do hope that all is well with you, my love.
Milan is a remarkable city, but it does not feel yet like home. I doubt it ever will, as home to me has come to mean wherever you are. I don't completely understand your reasons for staying away, but know always that I love you, Erik. All the fame in the world could never change that simple fact.
Tomorrow I will go to La Scala and I will sing, but I will not be singing for them. I will give my soul, but as always, I give it only for you. Don't stay away too long, my darling. I can no longer bear life without you, now that I know the joy of it in your arms.
Yours always,
Christine
Satisfied, she tucked it in an envelope and labeled it with his name and the address of Porto Dell' Angelo. Christine laid it on the table by the door with her handbag and resolved to mail it first thing in the morning, before heading to the opera house. Right now, however, the emotions of the day were taking their toll and she crawled gratefully into the large feather bed. She was no longer accustomed to sleeping alone, and she felt cold without the reassuring warmth of Erik's body next to her and the sound of his steadfast heartbeat beneath her ear. She tossed and turned for a time, then finally surrendered to a dreamless sleep.
Nadir awoke to the feel of a cool breeze on his face. The warm spring sunshine was pouring in the open window of the guest bedroom of Porto Dell' Angelo. He stared at the ceiling attempting to remember how he had come to be there. He vaguely remembered Christine's departure and a heated argument with Erik that had followed. Well, in truth, it had only been heated on his end, ironically enough. The next thing he remembered was waking.
He heard footsteps at the door and Erik entered, carrying a breakfast tray. "Crêpes, fresh fruit, orange juice – my friend, you have outdone yourself. Am I really that near to death that you would spoil me so?" Nadir's tone was light, but he could see that Erik was in no mood for his playful banter.
"What is it?" Erik's grave tone left no room for argument. He stood, arms crossed, at the foot of the bed, watching Nadir's face intently.
Nadir waved a hand in irritation. "Oh, a heart condition of some sort. They have no name for it, of course. The doctors in Florence have been as vague as those insufferable fools you Parisians call medical professionals."
Erik would not be deterred by Nadir's obvious reluctance to provide further explanation. "How long have you known?"
Nadir shrugged, avoiding Erik's eyes as he began cutting a crêpe with his fork. "Quite some time now. Since before you left Paris, at any rate."
"And yet you didn't see fit to share such information with me?" Erik was angered by his friend's omission, despite the fact that he had also kept numerous details of his own life from his friend in the past without a second thought.
Nadir snorted lightly. "You are hardly one to talk about keeping secrets, my friend."
"That is beside the point. Finding you nearly dead on my floor came as a bit of a shock, Daroga. You might have warned me." Erik knew he was overreacting to Nadir's secrecy concerning his illness. The Persian had always assumed a supporting role in their relationship and would never have wanted to worry Erik unnecessarily. Still, it was true that Erik had been greatly shaken by the image of his only friend sprawled unconscious on his floor.
Nadir seemed oblivious to Erik's indignation, choosing to concentrate instead on the food which was rapidly disappearing from the plate. "Truly Erik, if your career as an architect ever goes sour, I've no doubt you could obtain work as a chef. These are magnificent."
Erik was not amused. "It is fatal then," he asked quietly.
Nadir paused in his chewing, but did not meet Erik's accusing eyes. "Yes," he replied simply.
Erik drew in a sharp breath and moved over to the window staring unseen out onto the lush green lawns. "How much time do you have, Daroga?"
Nadir watched Erik struggling with his emotions at the window. He was touched that the man valued his friendship so. Then again, as far as he knew, aside from Christine, he was Erik's only friend.
"There is no way of knowing, apparently. They tell me it could be today or it could be twenty years from now. So in many ways, I am in the same situation as every other human being." The Persian gave a chuckle at his own ironic observation. "Have you sent word yet to Christine explaining your absence?"
Erik turned slightly, his face softening at the mention of her name. "Yes. I sent a messenger this morning with a letter."
Nadir set his tray aside and leaned back on the pillow closing his eyes. "So when are you leaving?"
Erik paused. "I will stay until I am certain you are alright and can arrange for someone to come here to care for you. I still hope to attend her first performance if you are well enough by that time."
Nadir nodded, still not opening his eyes. He was weary this morning and could not resist the drowsy warmth of the morning sun on his face.
As Erik peered down at the prematurely aged face of his friend, he saw a weakness there that had never been before. The Daroga had been his rock and his conscience for as many years as he cared to remember, the only man who had been brave enough to stand unflinching before both Erik's deformity, and his anger. But now, the Persian looked suddenly old and frail. Though it pained Erik to admit it, his friend had the unmistakable look of a man who was hunted by death.
Erik turned and left the room, pulling the door closed gently behind him. Lost in thought, he walked out the front door and sat down on the portico bench staring out over the city. He lowered his head into his hands, feeling suddenly very old and very alone.
Christine held a gloved hand to her waist and drew in a deep breath as she stepped into the magnificent front foyer of La Scala. Even the front hallway was impressive. The building itself was immense and very grand. But what overwhelmed Christine more than anything was the unbelievable feeling of history and legend that passed over her upon entering it. She could feel the roots of her art in this sacred place, hallowed by the most glorious voices in all of opera. She felt suddenly very young and insignificant.
Christine closed her eyes and wished with all her heart Erik could be there with her. His presence always reassured her and his quiet faith in her abilities brought her courage. It was that courage she was desperately lacking as she attempted to navigate the enormous building in order to find the manager's office.
"Signora de Renoir?" a kind voice called from behind her.
Christine turned to find a well-dressed gentleman smiling warmly and walking towards her with his hand extended.
In relief, Christine offered her own and the man gave a short bow and kissed the back of it lightly. "Signor Romando?" Christine inquired hopefully.
The man straightened, still smiling. He was a tall man, in his forties perhaps, with kind brown eyes and closely cropped dark hair.
"Si, Signora. It is wonderful to meet you at last. Though you may not be aware of it, I did indeed hear you sing once at the Teatro Comunale. When our leading soprano was unfortunately unable to finish the season, I thought of you at once. You grace us with your presence, Signora de Renoir. La Scala and I welcome you."
Christine felt relief wash over her. Someone at least was happy to see her there. "Thank you, Signor Romando; your sincere praise is an honor to me." She smiled and gestured to the building around her. "And this place, it is truly awe inspiring. I feel so very proud to be a part of such a long and distinguished legacy."
Signor Romando looked pleased. The woman before him was obviously very gracious in addition to being an exquisite beauty with remarkable talent. They were very fortunate to have her, he thought to himself.
"I will show you to your dressing room, Signora de Renoir, so that you may begin to feel comfortable in your new home. Rehearsals will begin tomorrow morning. I shall introduce you to Signor Giraldi, our conductor, and the rest of the La Scala family then."
As he spoke, he led Christine down a long and splendid corridor, informing her pleasantly of the daily rehearsal schedules and the location of various other rooms in the building. Christine listened intently, hoping to remember all the necessary information, but she found her attention still lingered on the opulence of her surroundings.
At last, they reached a lavishly muraled pair of double doors. Christine returned her focus to Signor Romando just in time to catch his last words as he opened the door.
"...and your husband is no doubt anxious to see you. He arrived earlier. I thought he would be most comfortable waiting for you in here."
Christine caught her breath. Erik! She smiled brilliantly as she stepped into the large three-room suite, turning to express her gratitude. "Thank you, Signor Romando, for your kindness. I will have my things brought in at once and I look forward to rehearsals tomorrow morning."
Signor Romando gave a low bow. "We eagerly anticipate your debut, Signora de Renoir." He turned and headed off down the corridor. Christine closed the door and began to look around for a sign of Erik's presence. Her eyes fell on a beautiful arrangement of red roses adorning the dressing table. The perfection of the blooms and the black satin ribbon around the base told her at once who they were from. Her face lit immediately and she flew to the table, tearing open the accompanying note with impatience.
My Dearest Christine,
I apologize for my absence yesterday. I have no excuse except to say that despite how very proud I am of you for what you have accomplished, in the end, I simply found watching you leave too painful to endure. I realized my error shortly after, and would have come to find you, but Nadir has taken very ill. I was forced to attend to him, though I very much regret being unable to be there with you.
Nadir's illness is quite serious, I am afraid, and it may be some time before I am able to join you. In light of our present circumstances, I find I must now make a very long overdue request of you by way of this letter.
My inquiry would perhaps be more appropriately made in person; however, I find I am unable to wait even one more day for your reply. Thus, I will make it now.
I love you, Christine. You are my soul and my light. Without you, there is only darkness. You have made a whole man from one whom was broken. Will you be my wife at last?
If your answer is yes, you will find a token of my steadfast love and unfailing devotion awaiting you on your dressing table.
My life is in your hands, my darling. My heart will cease to beat while I await your reply.
Yours now and always,
Erik
Christine's hands were shaking as she lowered the letter and her eyes returned to the dressing table. She searched its surface and then amongst the flowers, expecting to find a ring, but to her confusion found nothing. She dropped to her knees, hunting under the table, growing increasingly frantic that she may have lost it.
She eventually gave up and turned to search the rest of the room, but let out a loud shriek as she noticed a figure in the shadows that had remained unnoticed in her haste to read Erik's note.
"Raoul," she breathed, her eyes open wide.
He took a step forward and held out his hand. Glittering there in the light from the window was an elegant platinum band encircled with diamonds.
"Hello Christine. Were you looking for this?" He had an odd glint in his eyes and seemed strangely calm. Christine reached forward to snatch the ring from him, but he quickly withdrew his hand, closing it around the ring tightly.
"I am afraid, darling, that I cannot in good conscience allow you to throw your life away on a deformed murderer." He tucked the ring into his pocket.
Christine found her voice. "Give that to me," she hissed. "My life is my own to do with as I please - a fact that you always found it convenient to overlook in all our miserable years together."
Raoul ignored her words. "I'm afraid I have not come to chat, darling. I have come to make you an offer. Let me explain to you what I propose." He motioned with a gloved hand toward a darkened corner of the room. A second man emerged from the shadows. He was a dark contrast to Raoul's fairness, and his eyes were sharp and cold. His sneering face had a gaunt, sunken look about it that made Christine shudder.
"Jacques is a new acquaintance of mine. He specializes in the "extermination" of exactly the kind of scum that you seem so eager to marry."
Christine's hand flew to her mouth. Jacques – the man from the inn in Switzerland, she thought fearfully. The man had an eager maniacal gleam in his eyes that revealed his lust for revenge. He looked quite capable of being what Raoul described him to be.
Christine suddenly felt sick. "What is it that you want?" she whispered. Somehow she knew what his offer would be before she even spoke the question.
Raoul smiled and reached his gloved hand to trace her jaw. Christine jerked away and slapped him hard across the face. With a strength and anger that surprised her, he grabbed her wrists and pushed her back roughly, pinning her against the wall.
"You are in no position to treat me in such a manner, Christine. Perhaps Philippe was right. I should have taken proper control of you when we were married, instead of allowing you free reign to make a fool of me." She could smell alcohol on his breath and felt once again she would be sick. But immediately, he thrust her away and seemed to regain his composure. "But there will be time to remedy that after we are once again husband and wife." He said the words with an alarming degree of confidence.
Christine stared at him in disbelief. "You are quite mad. The only ring I will ever accept from any man is in your pocket, and you would be wise to return it to me before he hears of your further treachery against him." She was no longer afraid, but instead furious, her eyes staring at him in cold disgust, her fists clenched.
He seemed for a moment wounded by her reply, as if he had somehow truly expected her to be pleased with his announcement of their impending reunion as husband and wife. But he recovered his businesslike demeanor quickly and stepped toward her. Christine took an involuntary step backward at the crazed look of empty triumph in his eyes.
He reached out, gently cupping her cheek. She did not raise her hand to him this time, but pulled back toward the wall, withdrawing from him as far as she could. She turned her face away and tears began to run down her cheeks at her helplessness to escape his unwanted touch.
"What do you want? Tell me and go," her voice was hoarse and filled with dread.
Raoul seemed slightly remorseful at her tears. He removed a handkerchief from his pocket and began to wipe them away, despite her efforts to resist.
"Don't cry Christine, it is all for the best. He can't take care of you the way that I can," he said softly. "It will all be better this time, you will see. I will even allow you to sing, if that is what you wish."
He has lost his mind completely, Christine thought in panic.
Praying to God it wasn't true, she asked quietly, "So you want me to marry you in return for Erik's life."
Raoul smiled. "Yes. A fair exchange, don't you think? You give me back my life in return for me allowing him to continue his."
Christine's mind was swimming. She felt lightheaded and the whole situation seemed far away, as if she was watching it from outside herself. She barely heard herself whisper the words condemning her to a life of misery.
"Then I suppose I have no choice," she whispered, feeling like an animal in a trap. Her breathing was shallow and quick, and the room seemed to darken and close in around her. This all seemed so familiar, and yet utterly backwards. She was briefly reminded of her own voice pleading for Raoul's life beneath the Opera Populaire as Erik had attempted to force her to make a similar choice. In the end, however, he had relented. She had no illusions that the desperate man before her would do the same. Erik had spared Raoul's life because he cared for her too deeply to cause her pain. Raoul had proven that he only cared for himself and would stop at nothing to get what he felt he was somehow entitled to him.
"Then it is agreed." Raoul said smugly. "Jacques and I will remain here in Milan until the end of your stay and agree not to harm a hair on that creature's hideous excuse for a head. At the end of your time here, you will return to Paris with me and take up your proper place as my wife, fulfilling your role with both enthusiasm and proper wifely devotion. Should you attempt to leave or harm yourself in any way, I will be forced to go back on our bargain and allow Jacques his revenge."
Christine nodded mutely, tears of resignation rolling down her face.
Raoul seemed satisfied by her apparent submission. He reached into his pocket and handed the ring to her. Christine looked up in confusion.
"Tomorrow, my dear, you will return this trinket along with a note expressing your deep regret that you will be unable to accept his offer. You will speak nothing of our arrangement. When he asks to speak with you, as he no doubt will, you will refuse. If you violate our agreement, his death will be swift and painful."
Christine accepted the ring in her trembling hands. It was beautiful, and so very unique, just like the man whom had offered it. She clutched it to her chest and dropped to her knees, weeping openly.
Raoul stepped carefully around her, Jacques following like a dog at his heels.
Christine did not look up. She was lost in her grief, her thoughts only of Erik and his pain. What will I say to him? I will tear his heart to pieces all over again. He will never forgive me. At the thought, she threw herself full length on the floor, sobbing.
Raoul gave a mocking bow from the door, his voice dripping with triumph. "Until tomorrow then, my lady."
