In Sight
Erik did not know of Christine's bittersweet reunion with Raoul de Chagny. The Vicomte had been lucky enough to call on her on one of the few nights that Erik himself had not been lurking about the Theatre Mystere. He discovered it was rather an easy theater to haunt, if he were thinking of doing such a thing again. Which he was not, of course. Except that he had been doing just that for several weeks, albeit in the most benign way possible. No accidents had befallen anyone, but the temptation had been so very sweet. His presence there had merely been to keep a watchful eye on his Christine.
He knew it was not the wisest course of action for a man who was wanted for murder to be stealing through the back alleys of Paris, practically tempting the authorities to find him. Yet he simply could not keep himself away from Christine. His endeavor to see that she was protected had required a great deal of stealth and planning on his part. Finding himself lacking his usual mask, thanks to Little Giry, he had fashioned himself a new one. The thin, pale leather had been in his possession for quite sometime, secreted away in his hidden chambers in case he found himself in need of it. Preparation had always been Erik's forte. He'd molded himself a half mask that was a good deal less noticeable than the elegant white he had previously favored. In fact, it would nearly match his complexion, had he the benefit of being able to walk in the sun at all. A carefully placed fedora tipped just so over his right eye did much to conceal his tell-tale appendage. From a distance, he hoped it seemed that he wore no mask at all.
He always chose the Rue Morgue exit, as it was the closet to the Mystere, and proceeded carefully through the three alleys that connected the blocks to the theater. A convenient back door to the theater had a sinfully simple lock, easily picked by a master magician such as himself. Once inside, Erik was quite at home amidst the under-stage passages and catwalks. The stage crew were creatures of habit, and it had not taken Erik long at all to map their routine. Staying hidden was a simple matter of moving to the places he knew would be unoccupied at the appropriate times. No one had ever caught sight of him yet.
Christine, however, had been another matter entirely. She had seemed oblivious enough to his presence the first night he had watched her, but her awareness as of late was rather extraordinary. She was hardly ever on stage at all, but when she was, when her exquisite voice would fill the auditorium with song, she wove a seductive spell over everyone in the theater. Erik always watched her scene from the upper catwalk, and his angel had taken to moving off her mark to stand just underneath him, her voice becoming even more passionate as she did so.
She never lingered backstage after her death scene, hardly spoke to anyone at all, but headed straight to her dressing room. Because the play was still in its first act, nearly everyone would be wrapped up in their own little worlds, and Erik could slip undetected around the rafters before Christine left the stage. Only one stagehand roamed those same rafters during her scene, and he was usually concentrating on properly rigging the next backdrop. Still, this was where Erik was the most vulnerable, chancing that the boy wouldn't look up at the wrong time. Thus far Fate had been kind to them both, and Erik's timing had been perfect. He'd shift around to linger over the ladder above the backstage entry just in time to see Christine leaving.
Christine had lately started to falter in passing under his position and would sharply look up into the shadows straight at him. The first time she had done it, Erik had been certain she had seen him there. She'd taken him off guard and his dive back into the corner of the walk had been rather slow and ungraceful. Yet Christine had only shaken her head, as if to clear it, and gone on her way. Now, Erik knew to expect this reaction from her, as it never failed that she would stop and look up unseeing to where he stood. Then a hand would flutter over her abdomen and she would draw an uneven breath, doubtless chastising herself for such foolishness.
Erik longed to go to her again, but nothing had changed. He had not changed, and so nothing could change. While it made his heart soar to know that Christine was no longer engaged to that foolish fop, Erik could no more claim her for himself now than before. Her association with him had already ruined her career in the theater, forced her into such a menial role. She should be singing in a proper Opera, not toiling away in this novelty act, retreating to her dressing room to sew costumes.
Sewing! Christine Daae, leading soprano of the Opera Populaire…a common seamstress!
But what better life could Erik offer her? Haunting another Opera House… intimidating the managers into making his Christine a Prima Donna…killing for her again? No, nothing had changed. In time, the memory of the Opera Ghost would fade from the city, and the theater managers would no longer worry that he might come to haunt them should they hire Christine. Her talent was far too great to be kept from the stage indefinitely. This, more than anything, kept Erik ever conscious of remaining hidden. From everyone.
Oh, but the horrid selfish actors employed at this theater nearly pushed him beyond reason. The vicious things they would say about Christine behind her back enraged him. Yet Christine seemed un-phased by it all. Oh, Erik had seen the pain in her eyes, certainly, but she never betrayed it in her posture or her actions. His angel seemed much stronger than she had before.
And if the cast of the Mystere were all worthless snails, at least Monsieur Pinot seemed a gentlemanly sort. Indeed, it was his saving grace that he treated Christine so well despite the degrading role he had her playing. He treated all his performers very well, in fact, providing his own carriages and drivers to escort them to and from the theater if they so desired.
Christine always rode with two other ladies, as they three lived in the same area of the city. One of the ladies, and Erik used the term loosely, was a young actress who was rather cold towards Christine. The other lady was a little older and worked as a costumer and make up artist. She was actually quite kind to Christine, and his angel seemed very fond of her as well. On more than one occasion, the two would be left waiting in the lobby after hours for that little tramp to say goodbye to her lover of the moment. They would talk amiably, and every so often, Christine would look towards the darkened balcony above where Erik stood watching. She had become entirely too aware of him for his piece of mind, and so he knew he needed to force himself away from her.
Christine was not the same child he had taken under his wing to mold and tutor. No, she was a woman now. She no longer needed an angel to protect her and guide her. She needed a man. And that was the one thing Erik knew he could never be.
A/N: Okay, so this chapter is mostly exposition, but I felt like I needed to show where Erik's mind is on his relationship with Christine. I know my writing style in this story tends to linger a bit...but I'm not using evil Raoul as an obstacle, so that just leaves Erik's messed up psyche, Christine's lack of backbone, and that whole Erik being wanted for murder thing standing in the way of happily ever after. The highly anticipated reunion is getting closer...hang in there.
As always, thank you for the reviews.