One heart's darkness

Disclaimer: I don't own POTO, but stealing it is on top of my to-do list!

OooOooO

Chapter Seventeen

Darkness… all around her was darkness… everything was black, everything but this one speck of light. It wasn't even real light, more of a… feeling. A sound, perhaps. A voice! Yes, surely a voice.

It seemed to try and draw her out of this transitory state, this halfway point between life and death.

And her spirit was prepared to follow that voice, to allow it to be led back to light, to life. But then the voice faded, and she was once more left in the darkness…

OooOooO

Erik seized singing softly to Julie as he heard Christine call him. He stood up from that chair at Julie's bedside and joined his wife in the corridor.

"Raoul has called Father Bertram. He will be here in a couple of minutes!" she informed her husband, "and he wants you and I to go out of sight."

Erik frowned behind the mask.

"What on earth did he call a priest for?"

Christine's voice broke and she shut her eyes.

"Last rites."

Erik's frown deepened.

"Why? Why! Give her a chance! You're all giving up hope!"

Christine felt tears threatening to spill as she placed a hand on her husband's arm. "That's because there is none, Erik. The physicians said so!"

"Well, you're quick to abandon her!" he yelled.

Suddenly, the mask was ripped of his face from the forceful blow her small hand had delivered to his cheek.

"Don't you dare say that!" she hissed under tears. "Don't you dare think that I wouldn't give everything for my child! It kills me to see her like that. It kills me to know she'll die, it kills me to think that I'll be this empty inside forever, because a part of me will die within the week! But I want to know my daughter's soul in heaven, whether you like it or not. You're not her father! And if it displeases you so much, then you should leave!"

She turned and fled, her skirts billowing behind her and almost getting caught in the music room door which she tried to slam behind her.

Erik took a deep breath, then followed her.

She stood in front of the huge piano Raoul had bought twelve years ago. Her small palms were pressed against the cool cherry wood surface, her entire body shaking under the satin dress.

Erik stepped close to her, placed his long hands over her thin shoulders and lowered his face into the rose-scented curls.

"Not a month ago, I pledged an oath that I would be by your side for better or worse. I will not break that, not ever."

She turned around and flung her arms around his neck. He picked her up, walked over to the sofa and sat down upon it with her on his lap. She leaned into him and he stroked her curls gently.

Outside, he heard Raoul walk past, along with another man. They spoke in hushed voices and Christine snuggled a little closer to him to stifle her sobs in his crisp white shirt. The priest had arrived.

Looking down upon his crying wife, Erik found it almost impossible to believe that they had been so happy a mere few weeks ago.

After the wedding and the party, they had retired to the underground house. Madeleine had gone straight to bed, claiming the day had exhausted her.

Erik and Christine had stayed awake half the night, rediscovering what it meant to be man and wife. Afterwards, with her sleeping peacefully in his arms, he had been genuinely happy for the first time.

And for a few delusional weeks, he had allowed himself to continue believing that. They had slept late, they had sung and read together, danced around the music room in a bout of sudden childishness and Madeleine had prepared the meals for them and seen to the housework, her way of ensuring them their own sort of honeymoon.

Now, it seemed, fate had returned from its vacation to start torturing him again.

Although he hadn't known Julie for very long, he had always seen her as the perfect blend between the admirable qualities of both Raoul and Christine, with hardly any of their flaws. The only thing she lacked was a singing voice, but he remembered the little pantomime she had put on with Madeleine at the wedding feast. She had acted like an opera singer, her pretty face moving, yet the voice had been his daughter's, who had been crouched on the ground behind her sister's voluminous skirts. Together, they had given the impression of a perfect opera diva.

Madeleine, Erik knew, would be more than heartbroken should her sister die.

She had never before had a friend her own age, someone to accept her so readily. Something was already bothering her, something she refused to speak to her parents about.

Everything, he realized, their entire happiness, rested on the pale little figure in the bed next door. Fate was being a cruel mistress again…

OooOooO

Madeleine's eyes were closed as she let the cool wind play in her curls. How she loved standing on the opera roof. It was the only place these days where she could spend more time without feeling caged and claustrophobic.

It was still rather cold, but she didn't feel it. A warm cloak was wrapped around her, along with a pair of strong arms.

Jean had been with her every day she couldn't spend at Julie's bedside the entire week. That first day she had broken down and told him everything. To her surprise, he had already guessed her relationship to Julie and Christine, but sworn to keep it quiet.

Their was a strange kind of honesty between them now.

Madeleine knew that Jean was still making amends for his past treatment of her, but he was also serious about wanting to get to know her.

Jean was aware of the fact that Madeleine had only opened up to him because of her difficult situation, caused by the impending death of her sister and the lack of someone to talk to.

He enjoyed this quiet time. They did this often, simply standing on the roof, gazing out over Paris in the general direction of the Chagny mansion. Whenever she started to shiver, he placed his cloak around them. To his surprise, it had been Madeleine who had initiated their first embrace under the protective folds of fabric. From that moment on, he had been allowed to hold her. He had yet to see her smile, though.

The mask had been another obstacle they had overcome. Madeleine had been very reluctant about not wearing it in front of him, as she didn't fully trust him yet, understandably. Jean had argued that he wanted to get to know her, all of her, not her voice and a passive piece of satin in place of her face.
He sighed contentedly. Her hair smelled of roses, and he longed to bury his face in the curls, but as she was much smaller than him, just barely reaching his shoulders, he couldn't do so without it looking like an open advance on her.

He closed his eyes and tightened his arms around her, his fingers splayed on the amethyst satin bodice of her dress. Suddenly he felt her tremble. She couldn't be cold, not in his embrace under the cloak, which was made out of thick wool with an extra velvet lining; besides, the evening was rather mild for early spring.

"What is it?" he asked, concern in his masculine voice, a deep baritone that Madeleine had heard in her dreams these past nights. But something else was on her mind.

"It's Friday," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper, "and the sun is about to set!"

His brow furrowed in confusion. "How is that of any significance?"

She drew a shuddering breath and went on, "Papa is coming home in an hour. We'll go to Raoul's house and… Jean, if Julie doesn't wake up today, the physicians say that she never will. She'll die, she…" She couldn't go on. There were no more tears for her to cry, simply a dry aching in her heart.

Jean turned her around in his arms and placed a chaste kiss on the parchment skin of her forehead. Madeleine flinched, but then her arms wrapped around Jean's neck and she put her head on his shoulder.

He continued to hold her until she had to go to meet her father.

He went home as well, and as the first raindrops fell from the cloudy sky, he was sure he was in love with the mysterious girl. She was utterly fascinating and at the same time, she was a vulnerable woman, needing to be loved and held.

He knew it would not be easy to win her, to even convince her that he truly loved her, but it would be worth the time. He could wait. He could be what she needed.

OooOooO

Madeleine knelt next to her sister's bedside. Julie's skin was pale, yet her cheeks and forehead were flushed. Her eyelids had a slight bluish hue. The skin on her lips was dry and cracking.

She seemed so small in the huge bed, the many feather pillows in their grey pillow cases looked like mountains around her. The simple cotton nightgown in a light eggshell colour almost blended with her pale skin and only the dark mass of curls was a contrast.

Madeleine so longed to see her sister's eyes again, which were the same as her father's, the same sapphire blue, like the sky on a perfect summer day. They had always sparkled with joy. Would they remain closed forever now?

Taking one of Julie's limp hands in her long, cold fingers, Madeleine sat down on the mattress next to her sister. She closed her eyes and took a shuddering breath, willing away the tears. Her mother, she knew, was next door, with Raoul and her papa, being comforted. It was too much for all of them. They had all known their share of despair and, in a way, they had all deserved it. Julie was possibly the only innocent one in the entire family.

With a shaking hand, Madeleine brushed a couple of curls out of her sister's face. She recalled how Julie had once begged her to sing. She would do her that favour, she decided, whether the ill girl would hear her or not.

After a moment, she decided to once more sing "Endless", the song her father had specifically written for her.

And as she sang, pouring her sadness and fear into the song, it began to rain outside. Perhaps, Madeleine thought grimly whilst singing, the angels wept, because one of their own lay dying.

OooOooO

More darkness… but now there were pictures in it, as well. She couldn't place them… it was difficult to concentrate on the pictures and the sounds… a lot of weeping. What was wrong? …the weeping… that was her mama. What made her so sad? She wanted to find out, but darkness once more drew her back in.

A while later… how big a while she couldn't say… an hour? A year? … she heard more music. It was a different voice which sang, one she was more used to, but it was just as beautiful. It was drawing her to that speck of light again, beckoning her back to life. Another picture, this one of Madeleine, her sister. She was singing and crying at the same time. Why was she weeping as well? The light grew dimmer, then it flared up again. The picture flickered for a moment before steadying itself.

Julie blinked. And looked into Madeleine's incredulously staring eyes.