A/N: Thank you all.
Amber: Thank you for the reviews, I'm glad you liked them. There is more to come…
Starfire: Well, somebody will have to deal with Philippe won't they? Thank you so much for the review.
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And to all, thank you for your patience, I give you…
Chapter 19- Christine and the Phantom.
His voice had been like heaven in her ears, more than it had ever been before. The instructions he gave her were clear, concise and low. He had said nothing more than he had to and done nothing more than he had needed to, but he had been there. Now she was in his arms, with cloth over her eyes so that she could not see. He hadn't spoken to her since he told her to come to him in the woodland after that he had lifted her from the floor without a word and carried her along. They had stopped ten minutes away and he had placed her on a bench, covered her eyes with the material and pulled her back up, continuing to walk. She did not question him, she knew better than that.
Christine wasn't sure if she should speak to him, if she should thank him or, even, what she should do but her mind fought her heart hard and, eventually, she made the decision to stay quiet. At least for now. It felt as if they had been moving for hours, they hadn't stopped since she had been blindfolded and she could feel the night turning cool around her bare arms.
She didn't know how long it was before they stopped and he stood her on her own feet and removed her blindfold. It took a minute for her eyes to adjust after being covered for so long and by the time they did, Erik had walked inside and she found herself staring up at a house. She tried to walk forward and stumbled, her ankle throbbing hard, she placed her hand on the wall and remained still. After a moment she felt sufficiently composed to hobble into the small doorway and through into what seemed to be a dining area.
She gazed around noticing the dark crevices in the corners of the room, the shadows cast long from the light of the moon, hitting the wall in front of her. The room was relatively sparse compared to its size, there was a small table, four or five stools, a cabinet and two seats, one long and one with arms. It didn't take her long to recognise their design, Erik had sculpted them himself. Across the room the wood fire was burning with a low heat, small flames darting in and out of the logs. It made the room blush an ochre shade from wall to wall, a sharp contrast of the shadows she had noticed when she first entered.
She limped to the long chair, her eyes glancing around, searching for Erik but they didn't find him. She sat and then, suddenly feeling faint, lifted her feet to rest them on the seat. Her eyelids began to feel heavy and drooped over her eyes, she blinked to stop them but again they fell and she felt the sweet, smothering sensation of sleep simmer over her.
What woke her wasn't a sound or a movement but the consciousness of someone looking at her. She opened her eyes slowly, allowing light to seep in the slits, and as they opened wider she took in the figure of Erik sitting by her feet. He was still the same brooding Erik, silent and mysterious, the mask still covering the left of his face as he looked down at her. She was surprised that he was staring at her ankle and not her face and part of her ached with disappointment. When he glanced up she quickly averted her eyes to the door and when she felt him move away from her, she looked over to see him reaching for a length of material.
He delicately touched her leg, moving it so that it rested over his lap. He took some water and rubbed it gently onto her ankle and it soothed immediately. The water was warm and smelled of lavender and she watched his concentration carefully.
'It looks swollen,' she said to him and he looked up, gave a sharp nod and continued what he was doing. He lifted her leg gently and lay the material underneath it and placed it carefully back down. Then he pulled both sides of the material around her leg and wrapped it tightly into a bandage.
He said nothing and did not look up, just focused on his task and tended to her injured ankle. She looked at him, keeping her eyes fixed to his body. She noticed that he was thinner than she remembered but his hands seemed softer. His face was more drawn, his body seemed smaller but his eyes were the same, they still glowed that perfect blue in the dark. That deep, serene blue that captivated her soul, that blue they turned when he was thinking, when he was singing, when he was at his most amazing.
'It's tight,' She said, and he glanced back up at her with a nod, and, pushing her foot off him, he stood up. He grabbed a cup from the cabinet and filled it with water from a jug on the table, he handed it to her along with a small pill. She frowned at him. 'What is it?'
He didn't reply, instead he reached out for her hand, placed the pill in it and grabbed her other hand and fit the cup into it. He turned and left the room with out a single sound being uttered from his lips. Christine looked down at the pill, a brown-green colour, and then at the glass of water. First she took a slow sip of the water which was cool on her tongue and felt like bliss as it trickled down her throat. Then she placed the tablet on her tongue, taking another mouthful of water, she swallowed it. She wasn't sure what it was nor was she sure why she had taken it so readily but she did.
She eased herself to a seated position and rested her hand gently in her lap, still taking in her surroundings. She glanced over at the only window in the room to see if she knew where she was but she could barely see anything from the window. Trees swayed gently in the distance but the night was dark and the little light from the moon barely lit anything at all.
It was a few minutes before Erik wandered back in with his jacket and hat on. He walked to her and held out his hand, which she took obediently, and he pulled her to her feet, steadying her when she shifted the weight to her good ankle. He gently pulled her arm over his broad shoulders and began to walk, holding her upright as she limped next to him. They went slowly outside and Erik patted his leg twice and looked to his right. From the shadows to the side of the house clicking could be heard getting gradually louder and as the sound was upon them she saw a black shape emerging.
The horse was a tall stallion, black as the night and twice as beautiful. He stood in front of them and Erik stroked his neck while Christine admired his magnificence. He was black all over except for one white mark over his left eye and with a smile, Christine realised he looked like he was wearing a mask and she knew why Erik had chosen him. In silence Erik threw the reigns over the stallion and tightened them up, he placed the saddle on his back, buckled it carefully and ensured that the fastenings were not pinching the horse. Then he turned to face Christine, his face cold and unmoving he lifted her up and on to the horses back. He closed the door, locked it and returned to the stallion, climbing on so that he was sitting behind her he pulled the reigns around and released them so that they rested in his lap.
Christine felt the softness of the material fall over her eyes before she knew what he was doing, he tied it behind and made sure that it would not slip and again she was plunged into darkness. She felt Erik pick the reigns up and give the horse a soft nudge in the side with his heel. He had still said nothing.
Christine listening to the click, click, click of the hooves and she leaned back into Erik's body as he controlled the horse. She was unsure how long they travelled before they stopped and she felt Erik jump off the stallion. Unsure what to do she lifted her hands and removed the blindfold herself, then glanced down to the side as her eyes got used to the light. She recognised where they were immediately and she glanced over at Erik who was simply standing looking up at her. For a moment she was caught in his eyes, unable to move herself at all. She felt herself splashing in their sea of blue as she drowned before he turned away and saved her again.
'I'm home,' she said softly and he walked over and lifted her from the horses back. He still didn't move his lips to form a sentence. 'I can't… what if…'
'He won't,' Erik said, firmly, and Christine felt her body begin to tremble. He pulled himself back up onto his horse and turned him around to face the exit at the back of the house.
'What do I say..?' she asked, her voice beginning to crack.
'You're a most apt liar, Christine, I'm sure you'll think of something,' and with that he rode off into the distance leaving Christine with her only her tears.