A/N: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera or the characters it contains.
I think this one is a slight improvement over the last chapter, it seemed kind of weak to me. I so wanted some romantic fluff to get me over the fact that I was angry at my own villain. Funny, how that works out.
Katerina watched the sun rise from the kitchen window. Erik had gone to bed only an hour ago and she didn't hear any other stirrings from upstairs. She shook her head and looked into her tea. She didn't know if she could go to the police. If she could just hide Erik away for a little bit… Katerina watched the tea leaves swirl in her cup. It wouldn't be fair to him. She didn't want to hide him; she didn't want to lie anymore!
With a grunt she slammed the tea cup onto the saucer. When did everything become so complicated? It had all happened so quickly. Katerina closed her eyes and focused on the growing warmth of the sun. She remembered the first day in the temporary house. She had walked into the music room and found Erik sitting in the sun. Just sitting there, enjoying it. It had made her smile like nothing else had. She hated to see him angry and sulking. She wanted to see those rare smiles, the ones she had to coax out of him at first. Katerina sighed; she longed to hear him sing again.
She walked over to the sink and dumped out her tea watching the leaves swirl in the bit of amber liquid; couldn't gypsies see the future in tea leaves? She turned her head trying to discern any sort of pattern, nothing but cruddy lumps and lines. Katerina blinked and stared at a particularly large bit that had gotten stuck to last night's dinner plates. If one stared at it long enough you could almost say it resembled a skull… Katerina shook her head and turned the water on.
Nonsense.
Raoul stared at Katerina for a long minute before he cleared his throat, "Where on earth did you get all those?"
He had come down for a late breakfast and found Katerina, already dressed, sitting amongst a pile of newspapers in the study.
"I had them delivered. The printer keeps back issues and I am apparently charming enough to borrow copies of them."
"You went out alone?"
"I sent a boy with a letter, try not to faint."
Raoul nodded, "I was going to the police station to make an inquiry today."
Katerina raised her eyebrow.
"About the women, I am going to say that there was a maid lost from my household and my wife wanted to make sure one of them wasn't her."
"Does Christine know of your clever lie?"
Raoul called as he went into the kitchen, "She came up with it. I'll go as soon as I've finished eating. Christine isn't feeling well today, I don't know if she'll be getting up."
Katerina smiled and nodded, "Erik probably won't get up until late afternoon. There's some sliced fruit on the table if you want any."
"Thank you," Raoul picked up a slice of strawberry and returned to the study.
"Was that a thank you for telling you or thank you for not cooking?"
"You're much too sensitive about that. Just hire a cook like other women do."
"In case you haven't noticed Erik and I are very private individuals."
"Well, then have someone teach you, but stop sniping about it."
Katerina chuckled as she shuffled papers around.
The house was quiet again after Raoul left. Katerina sighed; she still wasn't used to the quiet. Not with the damned amount of noise Erik always made. He was either cursing or tinkering with some sort of instrument. If their home was quiet he was either reading or asleep.
She went over another article and sighed, the same details. They were all starting to blur together. Apparently there had been a total of twelve murders. Twelve and the damned police were at a loss. There was no pattern to these murders. Just the same method, but he always struck in a different place at a different time and none of the women seemed to have anything in common. Katerina sighed and re-read the article. Then she paused and read out loud,
"The body of nineteen year old Marie Roulin was found by a dock worker, Jean Moreau, yesterday evening… Jean Moreau, Moreau."
Katerina quickly dug through the papers. Why was that name so familiar? Had she seen it before? She flipped through papers until she caught it again,
"Sixteen year old Aria Moreau, a dancer at the famous Opera Populair was found murdered…" Katerina skimmed through the article, "she is survived by her brother Jean."
Katerina suddenly remembered why the name was so familiar. She had seen it in the records when she bought the theater. Katerina stood suddenly scattering papers off her lap. The records, they could help… But they were in her desk at the theater! She glanced upstairs. Maybe if she woke Erik up… Non, and Christine was feeling ill. Perhaps if…
Katerina swallowed and snatched her cloak off the rack in the hallway.
Erik blinked, there was a slit in the curtains anda shaft of sunlight was falling directly over his eyes. He growled and rolled over. Katerina must already be awake. He couldn't tell what time it was because he had smashed the clock on the mantle last night. He could hear shuffling in the hallway and a light scratch at the door.
"Come in," he snapped sitting up.
Christine peered in from the hallway, "I didn't mean to disturb you; I was just looking for Katerina."
"She's probably downstairs."
Christine hesitated and Erik straightened, "Is she downstairs?"
Christine shook her head, "Non, but she has probably gone with Raoul then."
"Do you know for sure?"
"Non, I thought she would be here."
Erik quickly got out of bed.
Katerina stared into the darkened theater. She swallowed and looked at the coach behind her.
"I will return in but a few moments, Monsieur. I simply must fetch something."
The driver nodded and Katerina tried her best to not panic. It would be simple run in, run upstairs, get the records from her desk and run out. Simple. He couldn't know she was coming. Katerina took a deep breath, pushed the door open and dashed into the theater.
Far off in the catacombs, a small bell chimed.
Christine and Erik both froze when they heard a key in the door. Christine nearly ran into the front hall as Raoul closed the door behind him. He turned and saw their faces.
"What's wrong?"
"Is Katerina with you?" Christine breathed.
Slowly Raoul shook his head, "No, I left her here after breakfast. She was in the study…"
"Merde!" The pair turned to Erik and he glared at Raoul, "She is not in the study. She isn't anywhere in the house. If she isn't with you then we have no idea where she's gone to."
Raoul paled, "she couldn't have gone out by herself…"
"Oh, I'm sure she could have; what I want to know is what in that empty skull of hers told her it was okay to do so."
Christine twisted a handkerchief between her hands.
Raoul swallowed, "I'm sure she's fine. Katerina can look after herself. She isn't helpless."
"That doesn't mean she's safe," Erik spat.
Christine frowned, "She couldn't have gone very far, she wouldn't have. It must have been important…"
All three froze at the sound of someone coming up the graveled walkway. Raoul threw the front door open and Katerina blinked.
Katerina shut the door behind her and slowly turned to regard the deadly silence in the room. All three of them were glaring at her although Erik's intensity won the prize.
She swallowed and hugged the files to her chest, "I'm in trouble, aren't I?"
"I'd like to speak with you alone," Erik hissed.
Katerina nodded and handed off the files to Raoul as she followed Erik into the study.
"So?"
Katerina tried to look innocent, "So what?"
"So what was worth risking your life for? More papers?"
Katerina sank onto the divan, "I-I thought I could be back before anyone noticed…"
"What if you did not come back? We wouldn't have any idea where to look for you! Katerina, you are smarter than this!"
Katerina stared at the carpet, "I made a mistake…"
"One that could have gotten you killed! Stupid girl, Katerina!" Erik leaned over the desk and shook his head, "I don't even know what to say to you."
"I'm sorry! Nothing happened, I'm fine!"
Erik turned and Katerina saw the anger in his eyes flicker, "Why did you not at least tell someone?"
"R-Raoul had already left and Christine felt ill, I didn't want to bother you…"
"You would get yourself killed because you didn't want to wake me up?"
Katerina managed a dry chuckle, "It sounds silly now…"
"Silly? After all you said last night…" The anger flared in his eyes and then died down, Erik pressed his fingers to his right temple, "Katerina I am going to bed, and if you are not here when I wake, so help me, I will kill you myself to save me the worry."
Christine sheltered herself in Raoul's arms as the yelling ceased. The door slammed against the wall as Erik emerged from the study and went upstairs without glancing their way.
There was a crash upstairs and then the house went silent. After a few moments Katerina appeared in the doorway.
"Has the storm passed?" Christine whispered.
"I think so; there isn't anything else in the bedroom he can break."
"Do I even want to know where it is you went?" Raoul asked.
Katerina smiled weakly, "I needed something from my desk…"
Christine blinked, "In the theater? By yourself?"
Raoul just groaned, "Thank God you didn't tell him that."
The smell sickened him, half rotted food coupled with his own hunger made his head spin. He could hear people yelling as the lash burned into his skin. He couldn't make himself any smaller. He couldn't press himself into the bars any further. Make it stop… Make it stop…
Erik drew in a ragged breath as he awoke staring at the ceiling. The room was darkened but it was not yet night. The curtains had been opened. It was cold; the fire in the grate had gone out. A melting candle sat on the nightstand. Someone had righted it after he had knocked it across the floor. Erik sat up and groaned as the deepest wounds across his shoulders ached. He heard a movement on the floor and saw Katerina in the half light.
She had been sitting on the floor leaning up against the bed.
"Are you all right?" Her voice was low, nearly a whisper, as if she didn't not wish to upset him again.
"How long have you been there?"
"Since after lunch," She said grimacing as she shifted.
She sat on the floor looking up at him, her arms tucked around her knees and he remembered waking up to her sitting like that, in her stocking feet looking at him with that wiry little smile of hers. He had never really known what she had been smiling about before he woke. She never would tell him or admit to any faces she had been making.
But now she wasn't smiling. She was just sitting with her eyes far away, like a little girl who had been sent to her room. Her short hair was messy and he could see that it was held out of her face by a ribbon that was coming undone.
"Katerina."
She looked up at him and a shy smile came to her lips. Like the ones she used to give him before she had decided it was safe to smile at him.
"Yes?"
"Please don't leave like that again."
After a few moments she nodded, "You told me to not give into my pride. I didn't listen. I'm truly sorry."
Her words hung in the air and Erik closed his eyes, "You seem to apologize quite a bit to me."
"It's just I never mean to hurt you, you're the one person I don't want to hurt and I just end up… It's so… I mean…"
He looked over at her to find her face buried in her knees.
"Katerina, you've lost your words."
She lifted her head and nodded.
"Come here."
She didn't stand but merely crawled onto the bed and curled up in his lap. He gently drew his fingers through her hair until he felt her relax beneath his touch. It was a novelty to feel that. A joy he had strained for but never known. He ran his fingers across the base of her neck and smiled as he heard her giggle into his chest.
"Erik! That tickles!" She sat up and smiled.
Erik looked at her and then she frowned, "Does it hurt?"
He blinked for a second until he realized that unconsciously he was rubbing at his temple, at the bandage underneath the mask.
"It stings."
Katerina shook her head, "It's healing, there may be pulling on the stitches and that's why it stings. Let me…" her suddenly eyes fell to the bed, "ah, never mind."
A stab of emotion went through him, "Never mind what?"
"I was going to say let me look at it but if you don't want to…"
Erik blinked as a realization came over him. The wound beneath his mask was stitched and bandaged. He felt his mouth go dry,
"So you've seen?"
She nodded without looking at him, "you didn't have your mask on when we found you. I-I got another from your room, but the gash was so deep it had to be treated, I… Well, you were unconscious and I…"
"Don't be upset," Erik whispered, "It just hadn't occurred to me until now."
Katerina looked at him with concern in her eyes, "I've seen Erik, but you've never showed me. It doesn't count."
He smiled, just a little, "I suppose you didn't recoil in horror as I kept imagining you would."
"Erik, the most horrific thing was how much you were bleeding."
He heard the edge in her voice. The anger that said she had been worried about him. They fought so much because they worried so. Now all of a sudden one of his worries was gone. She had seen the twisted horror that he had kept hidden from her; beneath the mask, his shield from the world, his shield from her.
Slowly he reached up and cupped her face in his hands. He ran his fingers across her smooth cheeks and brushed the bangs from her forehead then he slid one down her tiny nose making her smile. Then just as slowly he looked down and removed the mask from his face.
He stared down at it in his hands. Not since Katerina had he wondered how one tiny thing could hold so much power, so much sway against him. Erik squeezed his eyes shut against ancient aching pain. A monster who strived for beauty and perfection, so much that it drew him to the edge of madness. He had seen into the abyss and all the demons there wore masks.
Now he sat in front of Katerina, the demon facing the maiden. The girl did not seem like an angel to him like Christine had. No, Katerina annoyed him far too much to be an angel from God. He remembered the old Irish stories of pixies and brownies. Little curious fey that stumble into peoples households asking questions and making chaos until everything settled down the way it needed to be.
Katerina the pixie…
What is that mask? Why do you wear it? What is it for? Why is it important? How could it be? Is it bigger than you? What this here? Why do you keep a broken heart? Don't you know how to fix it? Do you want me to show you?
He felt the gentle pressure of her fingers on his chin and he let her raise his face to her but he did not open his eyes. He felt her hands smooth over the left side of his face, her fingers tracing the lines of his jaw and cheek. He almost pulled away when her fingers touched his lips and continued, brushing her sweet caresses over his twisted countenance. He didn't want to pull away, truly he was afraid, but he craved her touch more. Her slight fingers and feather light stroke. She traced all the lines of his face and then he heard a quiet giggle.
"Erik, you are trembling."
He opened his eyes and looked upon her smiling face, still smiling as if nothing had changed at all.
"Katerina, what do you see when you look at me?"
She looked confused for an instant and then laughed slightly, "I see my Erik."
He sat on the bed for a few minutes turning her words over in his head. He didn't know the right answer to the question he had asked, but after a moment he reached over and placed his mask on the nightstand next to the candle.
"There," he said with a finality he had not expected, "Here I am, naked before you, do what you wish."
Her eyebrows shot up and a playful glint appeared in her eyes.
"Do what I wish?"
A tendril of desire swept up through his stomach as she grinned, "Well, I was going to just check your stitches, but if I get to do what I wish…"
Erik blinked as she suddenly pushed him down onto the bed. The rush of emotion was indescribable as she looked down upon him, no longer a pixie, but a goddess.
"Well, what I meant was… I mean…"
Her mouth captured his before he could finish. The kiss was long and sweet, it spoke of much more to come. She broke from him and laughed a sirens song,
"Erik, you've lost your words."
Their laughter echoed into the street and he paused. His gloved hand was outstretched so that his fingers struck every wrought iron bar as he walked. He had found them all in their brick and shingle fortress, the knight, the queen, the king, and the little prideful pawn. She had done just as he wanted of her. Chess was a complicated game and he had never really the time to learn everything it had to offer, but even he knew to not capture some pieces immediately. The laugher faded and the softer sounds of something else entwined with the sounds of the coming night.
"Love her," he whispered, "love her while you still can."
Can't say the next chapter looks too good for our heroes...
A/N: The pixie idea and the questions are from a story my father used to tell me when I was little. It was about a man that lived alone after the loss of his family until one day a pixie girl found her way into his house. She started going through every thing he had, tossing bits here and there and asking like nine hundred questions as he chased her all over the place. Finally he gave up and found himself answering her. In the end he came to terms with his loss because he talked to her about it and found a new companion. It always seemed so romantic to me.