a/n Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far. You're wonderful morale boosters. Here's your warning, however. I start classes tomorrow, so updates are going to most likely slow considerably in a week or less. You guys are great!
A little side note, don't call the horse thing corny. That actually happened to me once, and it was a really hot guy that caught me when I got my foot caught. I also feel that I should warn you—there's a major warm-fuzzy moment toward the end of this chapter. What can I say, other than I adore kids. On with the show!
CHAPTER 5—LET THE DREAM BEGIN
Christine awoke sometime later, staring at the ceiling of the guest room. She lay, for a moment, confused as to where she was. Then she remembered. She had seen him. He was here.
Her head lolled off to one side, and she saw Nadir sitting on the loveseat with Eva's head in his lap. A book dangled from Nadir's fingers. The two of them had evidently fallen asleep watching her. Looking out the window, Christine saw that it was night. It was then that her ear caught something. It sounded like the piano. But if Eva was asleep in here…
There was only one person that it could be. Bracing herself for what she was about to do, Christine pushed the covers aside and crept past Nadir and Eva into the hall. Glancing back at them, she walked quietly toward the music room. As she opened the door silently, she could hear him singing softly.
"…Slowly, gently
night unfurls its splendor.
Grasp it, sense it
tremulous and tender.
Turn your face away
from the garish light of day;
turn your thoughts away
from cold, unfeeling light,
and listen to the music of the night . . .
Close your eyes
and surrender to your
darkest dreams!
Purge your thoughts
of the life
you knew before!
Close your eyes,
let your spirit
start to soar!"
His voice caught in his throat and he hung his head. His shoulder began to shake. He tried to go on, but could not. Entering the room, Christine sang, quietly, "And you'll live as you've never lived before."
She would have thought that turning so quickly would have hurt his neck. He looked at her with wide eyes. "What— where—"
Ignoring the protests her brain was screaming at her, Christine smiled at him. "Hello, Erik." She moved across the room to sit next to him on the bench. She reached up and brushed tears from his face. "Don't stop," she said quietly.
Still looking stunned, he began to play again, and they sang together.
"Softly, deftly,
music shall surround you.
Feel it, hear it,
closing in around you.
Open up your mind,
let your fantasies unwind,
in this darkness which
you know you cannot fight -
the darkness of
the music of the night."
Christine became so engrossed in the music, in the beautiful words issuing from her lips, that she did not notice him stop singing to listen to her. She did not see the smile that played across his lips as she sang.
"Let your soul take you
where you long to be!
only then
can you belong
to me."
She stopped singing when she realized that he had, and smiled at him. "You were the business in Vienna," she said. "She went to see you. Why?"
"To tell me you were here." Erik looked away from her, at his hands. "She wanted me to come to see you." Tears were streaking down his face again. It tore her heart to see him looking so helpless. It tore her more when he looked up at her. "I'm too late, aren't I?"
Now she was crying, too. "Yes," she said, softly. No! Her mind screamed at her. Tell him no! He's not too late! He's not too late…
A weak smile crossed his face. "I think I knew that, though," he said. "Before I came, I mean. I knew I had waited too long."
Reaching down, Christine took his hand. "We can always remain friends, though," she said gently. "I want us to at least have that."
"But we can't tell him."
Christine didn't need to ask to know whom Erik was referring to. "No," she agreed. "Raoul can never even know you're alive."
At this, Erik laughed. "I see my trick worked."
Confused, Christine stared at him for a moment. "Your trick?" she asked. She looked at him a minute longer before an amusing notion materialized in her brain. "You didn't do what I think you did."
The smirk on his face was answer enough, and she covered her mouth to stifle the giggles emitting from it. "You put your own obituary in the paper?"
"I have many friends," he said mysteriously.
They were both laughing now, and she had to lean against his shoulder as not to fall off of the bench. Their laughter continued for several minutes before subsiding, leaving them staring at each other. She felt the urge to kiss him, but he looked at his pocket watch. "It's not too late for you to go home," he said softly. "It would be wisest for you to leave now. I doubt they'd see if I took you."
She nodded and stood up. He turned to leave the room, gesturing for her to follow him. "Come."
As they exited through the back of the house closest to the stables, Erik grabbed his cloak. As they entered the stables, Christine shivered slightly. He saw, and removed his cloak to wrap around her. She smiled up at him as he began to ready Caesar to take them to the Chagnys. He helped her up first, then climbed on behind her. She wrapped her arms about his waist, and they were off.
The ride home was silent, and Christine found herself longing to tell him to take her back and never let her go. But she didn't, and he slid down before her in the darkness at the edge of the drive.
"Oh, no," she said.
"'Oh, no' what?" he asked.
She smiled sheepishly at him. "I don't know if I can get down in this dress."
They stared at each other for a moment before they both burst out laughing. "Here," he said, still chortling, "I'll catch you."
Very awkwardly, Christine maneuvered herself to jump down, but instead slid off haphazardly into Erik's arms. She giggled as she landed, bent over and clinging to Erik, who was also laughing. The second she stood upright, however, their laughter died as they stared into each others eyes. As she looked at him, she noticed something.
"It was you," she said softly. When he looked at her quizzically, she elaborated. "The first time I saw Eva, she reminded me of someone—her eyes did." Her voice grew husky. "She reminded me of you."
Looking back later, she would never be able to tell who initiated what happened next. All she knew was that her arms were wrapped tightly around him, and his around her, and she was kissing him more fiercely than she had ever kissed anyone in her life. She half expected him to pull her back onto the horse and take her away, but he didn't. He wrenched his lips from hers and set her away from him. His eyes were glazed over, and she knew that her face had to be flushed and her lips swollen.
"Go," he rasped. "Go home."
Then he leapt on the horse and vanished into the night.
The next week passed quickly. All to soon, it was the night before the wedding and Christine was in a frenzy trying to get everything prepared. It had been a hellish week—every time she had gone to Eva's, Erik was nowhere to be seen. Although Eva did not say as much, Christine suspected she knew of the kiss in the drive she had shared with Erik. She merely acted as though nothing odd had happened, until Christine suggested that she stay at Eva's the night before the wedding.
"Are you sure that's wise?" she had blurted.
Christine rationalized that either Raoul or herself had to leave the house, since they would not see each other before the wedding.
"It wouldn't be fair to force Raoul out of his own house," Christine said. "I know what you're thinking, Eva," she added, seeing the doubtful look on Eva's face. "I haven't seen your brother all week—I think he's been hiding from me. Why would something suddenly happen?"
Now, however, she began having doubts about her decision. As Raoul loaded her into the carriage that would take her to Eva's home, he kissed her lightly on the lips.
"Sleep well," he said. "And tomorrow we will be man and wife."
Forcing a smile, Christine climbed into the carriage and set off. When she arrived, she was surprised to find that Eva was not home.
"She and Master Nadir had an errand to run in town earlier today and said they would not be back until late," Corinne told her. "She said to tell you to make yourself at home in the guest room. I'll send someone down to carry up your bags." She glanced toward the dining room. "There's still dinner left, if you're hungry, ma'am."
Christine smiled. "I am, thank you, Corinne." When she entered the dining room, however, she nearly walked back out.
Standing in front of the massive fireplace, his back to her and holding a glass of brandy, was Erik. She stood in silence for a long moment before he seemed to sense her presence. He turned to look at her.
"Hello," she said, quietly.
"Hello, Christine." He sounded tired, as if being back in France after so many months had sucked all of the life from him. His eyes moved back to the fire and she struggled not to become annoyed with him, instead remaining silent. She reached for a chicken leg and, in a very unladylike manner, bit into it hungrily. She heard what sounded suspiciously like a snort of laughter from the corner, and she looked up at Erik quizzically. He shook his head and turned away, but his shoulders were shaking with silent laughter. After a moment, she joined in, and the two of them chortled all the way through her dinner.
When she had finished eating, he smiled at her. "Drink?" he asked.
Christine stepped closer to him. "I don't know," she said slowly. "I've never had alcohol before."
He reached onto the mantle for a bottle and a snifter and poured a small amount of brown liquid for her. He handed her the drink then turned back to the fire. She took a sip and pulled a face. He noticed, and smiled.
"It's something of an acquired taste," he said, still chuckling. She nodded and downed the rest with a grimace and said, "Disgusting."
He smiled at her, then took the snifter from her, setting it on the table. "What brings you here tonight, Christine?" he asked.
"I'm staying here tonight," she said. "Can't see the groom before the wedding, you know."
"Ah, yes," he said, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "You're getting married tomorrow."
An uncomfortable silence followed his words, broken only by the crackling of the fire. Soon though, Christine could not stand silence any longer.
"What is it?" she asked. "For the last week I haven't seen or spoken with you. Why are you suddenly like this?" She felt a burning sensation behind her eyes. "You knew this was coming, and yet you still hate me for it!"
At this, Erik whirled around to face her. "I don't hate you!" he burst out. "I—"
Christine felt the tears slipping down her face as she stepped closer to him. "You what?" She reached down for his hand, taking it in hers. "Tell me, Erik." When he looked away, she reached up to jerk his face toward her. "What is it?"
"You know how I feel," he said quietly. "There's no use talking about it now. Tomorrow you will be someone else's wife, and it won't matter anymore."
"How can you say that?" She let go of his face and took his other hand. "After everything that has happened between us, how can you say that it won't matter after tomorrow, or next week or month? It will still matter years from now." Christine let go of his hands and turned away from him. "I've found myself wondering what life would have been like with you," she said softly. "If I had stayed that night, I mean. But I thought I would have to spend so much time waiting for you to stop running from everything. I thought—I know that Raoul can make me happy. That's why I left with him." The tears were coming harder. "If you had asked me to stay, though, I would have." She moved to the massive window and looked toward Raoul's home. "Half of me wanted you to ask me to stay, to beg me not to leave you again. But you didn't."
She couldn't see his face, but she could hear the tears in his voice. "If I asked you to stay now, would you?"
She wasn't sure how to answer. Part of her wanted to say yes, and part wanted to say no. She did not have to answer him, though, because at that moment the puffy-eyed, tousle-haired Jean appeared in the doorway. The little boy had tears in his eyes, and Erik immediately rushed to him, picking him up and shushing him gently. "What's wrong, Jean?" he asked.
"I had a bad dream," the boy whimpered. "I'm scared to go back to bed. The monsters will get me."
Erik laughed and bounced Jean up and down slightly. "We'll go scare them off, shall we?" he asked. "I'm scarier than anything you'll see up there."
For a moment Jean stared at Erik's mask, and Christine knew what was coming next. In the short time she had known him, Jean had always been a very curious boy. Now, he reached up to his uncle's face and gently pulled the mask from it. She half expected Erik to put the boy down and yell at him, but he didn't. Jean reached up one finger and tentatively traced the right side of his face with his fingers. He did not look repulsed, but confused. "Why did they send you away?" he asked. "You're a person, Uncle Erik, not a monster. You just have a funny face."
Erik smiled sadly at Jean. "Not everyone thinks so, Jean."
Still confused, Jean looked at Christine. "You know he's still a person, don't you, Christine?"
Stepping closer to the two of them, Christine reached up to stroke the boy's hair. "Yes, Jean," she said. "I know he's a person."
"Christine knows you're a person, and Mama knows, and Nadir knows, and I know." He looked back at his uncle. "Everyone who loves you knows you're a normal person. That's what really matters."
He spoke with the confidence of a child and while it was Christine's first instinct to dismiss it as childhood naivety, she found herself adoring Jean all the more. Before she could start crying again, she looked at Erik, who was replacing his mask. "Let's get this strapping young lad back to bed, shall we?" she asked.
Erik forced a smile and nodded, and they walked together with Jean still in Erik's arms back to the boy's room. Once he was back in bed and Erik had performed a satisfactory monster check, he knelt next to the boy's bed.
"No monsters," he said, smiling slightly. "Now go to sleep." As he leaned down to kiss the boy's forehead, Christine felt a rush of compassion and a strange feeling that he would be a wonderful father come over her.
When he stood up, the little boy reached out his arms toward Christine. Smiling, she sat on the edge of his bed. "Goodnight, Jean," she said softly. She stroked back his hair and kissed his forehead gently. "Go to sleep."
"Will you sing for me?" he asked, looking at both of them. They looked at each other.
"Do you know any lullabies?" Erik asked softly.
Christine was thoughtful for a moment before she smiled. "The one you used to sing to me." When he frowned in confusion, she added, "When I was young and afraid, you would sing to me."
"Ah." He cleared his throat and smiled at her. "You may need to help me with the words." And quietly, they began to sing.
"Sleep my child and peace attend thee,
All through the night
Guardian angels God will send thee,
All through the night
Soft the drowsy hours are creeping
Hill and vale in slumber sleeping,
I my loving vigil keeping
All through the night."
Jean's eyes were growing heavy very quickly, and they continued to sing.
"While the moon her watch is keeping
All through the night
While the weary world is sleeping
All through the night
O'er they spirit gently stealing
Visions of delight revealing
Breathes a pure and holy feeling
All through the night."
Erik nudged Christine gently, nodding toward Jean. He seemed to be asleep, and they quietly crept toward the door, still singing.
"Love, to thee my thoughts are turning
All through the night
All for thee my heart is yearning,
All through the night.
Though sad fate our lives may sever
Parting will not last forever,
There's a hope that leaves me never,
All through the night."
"I think he's asleep now," whispered Christine. Erik nodded and quietly closed the door. For a moment they looked at each other before he said, "We should go to bed."
Christine's eyes widened. "We should—what?"
Erik's eyes widened and he seemed to be working to stifle a laugh. "Separately, Christine!" He shook his head, still trying not to laugh. "Good night."
"Good night."
As she entered her room, Christine cursed herself. What were you doing even thinking of going to bed with him? The thought rang through her brain. She knew exactly why she had thought of that. I want to go to bed with him. After donning a nightgown, she looked in the mirror. An insane urge to race to his room was pulling her eyes to the door.
Just go to bed, she thought. She looked at her massive bed, then once again at the door, and she made her decision.