To Live Again 7
A/N- I'm running low on sanity right now, so if this chapter sucks, tell me. But tell me nicely, or I'll sic a rabid Raoul on you.
To Heather and Adam… Heh… Me brain hurty, but you know what I mean, right guys?
Off the coast of France, hiding in a secluded cove, was moored a ship that meant death to innocent passenger ships. Emblazoned in gold on the side was 'Lady Joelle', and the figurehead was a beautiful black haired woman in a white dress.
Inside the ship, a dark haired man paced in front of a life-sized portrait of a woman as lovely as the figurehead, but slightly younger, and wearing a short, clingy silk nightgown. The man rubbed irritably at a mark encircling his neck, muttering curses in Spanish. Turning to the portrait, a fanatic gleam entered his eyes. He glared out the window then, looking in the general direction of Paris.
"So you think you can keep her from me, spectre? Joelle is mine! Dead you may be, oh Opera Ghost, but death will not save you from my wrath should you try to thwart me again." The rubbing of his neck increased. "Joelle belongs to ME! Rojer! Any man that would try to touch my woman will taste my steel! MASKED FILTH!"
The ship rocked lightly under his feet, the conditions making sailing impossible. Rojer moved to the portrait with the easy grace of an experienced sailor. He caressed the portrait, tracing the young woman's hips and the curve of her breast. "Just you wait, my darling." He muttered in a voice thick with arousal, "I'll be back for you."
Joelle shuddered, the delicate veil dropping from her hands.
"Joelle, what's the matter?" Colette asked, up on the dressmaker's stand.
She shook her head, bending to pick up the veil. "I…don't know. I suddenly just felt very strange…"
"Oh… What do you think of this dress?" Colette whirled around.
"The one with the goldwork looked better with your coloring, particularly with your red hair."
"Alright." She agreed, "I..did like that one." She admitted nervously.
"You're pacing again, Dom." Erik chided.
Joelle's brother had shown up about an hour ago, restless and bored in the absence of his fiancée and sister.
"Am I?" Dom asked distractedly, stopping and looking down, "Oh, I suppose I was. Sorry…"
"You want to see the dress, don't you?"
"Yes! I know Colette's going to be absolutely gorgeous, and it vexes me that I must wait until the wedding to see it!"
Erik smirked, "Patience, young Etienne, is a virtue."
Dom snorted, "I'm a twenty-nine year old bachelor; what do I know of patience?"
The boy was amusing, Erik thought. In the little over two days since meeting Dom, the younger man's easy humor and laid back manner had set him more at ease, and they had warmed up to each other. Erik still kept his guard up, though, the only one who seemed to inspire that calm, vulnerable, yet safe feeling was Joelle.
He sighed, "Well, Dom, do you love Colette?"
"Certainly."
"Is she worth waiting for?" Erik continued patiently.
"Yes."
"Then you'll survive."
Dom stared, inspecting the other man carefully.
Erik was uncomfortable under Dom's scrutiny, instinct telling him that nothing good could come of this… The younger man's gaze was intent, and thoughtful. Then he nodded.
"You're right, Erik." He said softly, "Thank you."
"Y…you're welcome." He replied, surprised.
So much seemed to surprise him these days, though. Even with this in mind, Dom's next question took him completely by surprise.
"Would you be my best man, Erik? I really didn't know who to ask. I definitely respect you, and I know it would mean a lot to Joelle if you were there." He gave Erik a conspiratorial wink, "And she's the maid of honor…" He trailed off suggestively.
Erik stared, stunned. "What? But you barely know me."
Dom shrugged, "I've fallen out with most of my older friends: They've become asses the lot of them. And I do owe you my life, and someday we'll be brothers. Besides, as I said, it would mean a lot to Joelle."
But… what? How? Why? How could he go out in public?
The thought struck him abruptly: The mask! The one he had intended for life with Christine. It had taken nearly a year of painstaking work in his lab to find the proper chemical composition to create a lifelike human face that would move, and breathe, and allow sensation as it needed to.
That would be perfect! And nobody would recognize him! Nobody but Daroga knew his lat name, and if he hadn't told before, even when he thought Erik was dead, he wouldn't tell now! Perfect!
A smile spread across his face, "Thank you, Dom, I'm honored. Let's surprise Joelle, though, shall we?"
Dom grinned, a familiar mischievous twinkle entering his dark blue eyes. "I like the way you think, my friend!"
Erik restrained a despairing sigh. Yes, this was certainly a good looking family he might enter into. Hopefully, if he and Joelle decided to have children, they would look like her.
He liked the thought of becoming a father. Little ones, with Joelle's pretty face, and Joelle's pretty eyes, and perhaps a voice like his. They would never know even a second of pain or sorrow, he vowed, never would they suffer as he had, or fear as Joelle still did.
Another thought occurred to him, the thought of seeing Joelle in the sunlight, a creature of beauty in her element, surrounded by the flowers she loved. She had said that things bloomed early this year. He could see it in his mind…golden sunlight glinting off her shadowy hair, azure eyes like mirrors of the sky… soft skin—
"Hello?" Dom's voice shattered his revery. "Hello?" The young man's voice was full of exasperation. "Please tell me you weren't daydreaming about my sister again!" Dom pleaded.
Erik actually felt himself blushing. "I…ah…refuse to respond on the grounds that it might incriminate me."
Dom rolled his eyes, "God, you two are hopeless!"
"Your point being?"
Joelle was sitting in the garden, looking at the swiftly reviving plants. She had plans for this spring. The garden had fallen into disrepair in the years of her absence, she noticed. She wasn't surprised: The garden had been a sanctuary for her and her mother. Years ago, when her parents were newly married, her mother had started a garden which grew into a sort of Eden. Love of the plants and tender care of all things growing and delicate was something she had passed to her daughter. In her absence, and with her mother's death, she supposed no one could bear to enter. She would have died if she couldn't come here, she knew. Her mother's spirit was everywhere here, speaking to her, whispering ideas for the upkeep and minor changes for this year, as Mama had when she was alive. This garden was her legacy, and part of both of them. It hurt to see it so choked with weeds, the twinkling, singing springs diminished to mere, weed tangled trickles without proper care.
Joelle closed her eyes and took a deep breath, picturing the garden as she would make it; together with the spirit of her mother. Tomorrow. She would fix this haven tomorrow. For now, she would remember.
"Mama… I've changed so much… What would you say to see me now?"
The breeze swirled around her like an embrace. Her wild hair stuck to the wet trails of her tears. She sniffled.
"I could never cry for you then, mother… I just didn't want it to be real… Can you forgive me?"
A sudden warmth flew through the evening breeze and suddenly she was part of the garden. She could feel her mother's love around her, in every leaf that needed her care, every delicate flower that depended on her.
"Thank you, Mama. For saving me then, for forgiving me now. I would be dead now, too, if Rojer had taken me."
In her heightened awareness, she detected the sound of footsteps. She opened her eyes calmly, allowing the breeze to dry her tears as the sun dropped out of sight at last. She took another deep breath, listening. "Hello, Christine." She didn't turn toward the garden entrance.
She heard the woman gasp and smiled. "This was my mother's place." She whispered. "She's part of it. Come sit down."
The other woman slowly walked over and sat beside her on the bench.
Joelle continued, "Would you believe we're the first two to go in here since that night? Mother and I used to spend so long out here, making everything perfect. Part of her will always live on here."
"You must have been very close." Christine murmured.
"Oh, yes."
"I don't remember much about my mother. I was very young when she died. Raoul never knew his at all."
"Must we speak of him?" She asked, a dangerous edge on her voice.
But Christine persisted. "Your anger hurts him."
"As does that lovely shiner on his face, I imagine." Joelle replied happily.
"Yes, that too… please forgive him!"
"Not unless Erik does. I think I was perfectly clear on that."
"He had reason to be concerned, you know. Erik has killed before. He tried to kill Raoul." Christine reminded her.
"He wasn't the first to try to kill Raoul." Joelle remarked, "Nor will he be the last, I suspect. Raoul seems to anger people constantly."
"You can't really mean that…"
"I love Erik. Someone has to defend him, and I have no love for any who would hurt him or speak ill of him." Joelle said resolutely. A chill night wind followed as if to support her words.
Christine stood, backing away, "I'm sorry you feel that way."
"What? Sorry someone sees the beauty in a man you nearly destroyed? Sorry I love him? Perhaps sorry you left him like you did, and never even checked back to see if he was okay?"
Christine winced at the jibe. "No, sorry that we cannot be friends. You stand by your man, I must stand by mine."
"For what it's worth, I had thought Raoul was much better than that, and it saddens me that he is not." She responded in a stiff, formal tone.
She had no idea what to say to her husband.
Christine paused outside their door, listening to the silence where once was laughter and conversation.
Raoul and Joelle had been so close. He'd been so eager for her to meet her. How had things gone so wrong?
Slowly, she entered. Raoul looked sadly at her from his seat by the window. A woman's lovely voice drifted up, singing a song about the stars.
"That's her." Raoul said. "I don't remember the song, but I know that voice. So much has changed…" His hand lightly touched the still bruised side of his face.
"I tried."
"I know, and I love you for it, but Joelle's always been stubborn, annoyingly so, and her loyalties are fierce." He sighed, "I remember that day every time my face twinges…every time I look in the mirror… There was so much force in her slim little hand, so much rage in her eyes… She's never looked at me with such anger, and such betrayal. I never thought I would ever go too far for her, but I've really screwed up this time."
Christine shook her head, "Such a complex woman. She can seem gentle as a summer breeze in one moment, and terrifying the next. And she says some of the oddest, most unladylike things sometimes."
"She's like Dom, she's nice until you hurt someone she loves. Once, that fury protected me. Perhaps I'm as weak as everyone thinks. I can't even talk to her, and I certainly cannot confront her beast."
"That's the sort of talk that angers her, you know." Christine reminded him.
"I despise the man, you know that."
"Don't be a stubborn fool, Raoul. A simple apology could end this."
The sun caressed Joelle's face as she woke up. Looking around, she saw that she had fallen asleep in the garden.
"My hair probably looks like Medusa's snakes." She muttered.
Rising, she saw something glinting nearby. Carefully checking the clump of greenery, she saw a necklace chain. Picking it up, she saw the familiar charm in the center. Her eyes filled with tears.
"Mama's necklace…" She breathed, and ran inside to clean it off. "I thought it was lost."
She took it as a sign, from her mother, that she approved of her daughter, and her choices, and that everything would be ok. She needed that reassurance, when everything was so confusing.