Chapter 5—Seal My Fate

Luckily enough, Erik's phone still worked. The roads would be horrendous, and they could hardly see past the windowpane, so they decided that there was hardly any choice but for Ari to stay. They called Meg, who simply warned them to stay safe.

Erik lit fifteen or so candles in the music room, casting a flickering glow that was reminiscent of the way it used to be. Ari curled up on the couch, listening to the rolling thunder and drumming rain outside, and to Erik humming softly to himself. She wasn't exactly scared, but the combination of light and shadow was thrilling. When he finished with the candles, Erik came over and sank elegantly down next to her.

She leaned her head on his chest, feeling his hand resting on her back. The fingers of his other hand trailed across her cheekbone, and she unthinkingly sang.

"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime!

Say the word, and I will follow you!

Share each day with me, each night, each morning!"

She did not know if she was prepared for what his voice sang next.

"Say you love me!"

Breathlessly, she replied, "You know I do!"

Together, turning to look at each other, they sang.

"Love me, that's all I ask of you!"

Inclining his head, he touched his lips gently to hers. She was surprised and delighted for a moment, but then her eyes opened wide and she pulled back.

"Erik, this is insane!" Her voice came out as a hoarse whisper. "Stella…she…it would tear her apart!"

"Stella does not need to know," he replied gently, bringing her face closer to his with his hand. As she was about to protest, his lips fell in place of her words. She trembled with indecision as his mouth covered hers, eating away at her willpower. She wanted to, and felt herself almost, give in. Almost...

She drew reluctantly away. "I can't. I want to, but…I'm sorry, Erik."

The look on his face was unreadable. "I understand," he said, although his voice was slightly constrained. In a sudden movement, he arose and went to the window. She heard him softly singing.

"Shamed into solitude, shunned by the multitude,

I learned to listen! In the dark, my heart heard music!

I longed to teach the world, rise up and reach the world,

No one would listen. I alone could hear the music…"

"Erik…"

"It's all right, Christine."

"What?"

"I mean, Ari. Sorry."

She rose and went to him, putting a hand on his arm. "Why did you call me Christine?"

He sighed, his hands hanging limply at his sides. "I am reminded of her—by you."

She could see that he was bitterly let down, but she could not bring herself to forget her best friend so harshly.

"Play some of your Don Juan," she said. "It will make you feel better."

His mouth twitched slightly. "You know me better than I do." He touched her hand before he went and sat at the organ.

"Here the sire may serve the dam, here the master takes his meat!

Here the sacrificial lamb utters one despairing bleat!"

She joined him in the words and sang the scene through to nearly the end.

"We've passed the point of no—" He broke off suddenly.

"Erik? What is it?"

"The ending," he replied shortly, and gave a great crash on the organ before leaping up and storming out of the room. Ari fell back onto the couch, very much disturbed.

i

She found a photo album lying on a table. She opened it, and stared at herself. It was a photo taken of her in sixth grade, at a beach party with her friends. The next picture was of Stella, the time she'd been in a play about Moses. On and on the pictures of the two girls went, until they were suddenly replaced by black-and-white stills—old pictures, probably from the early years of the camera.

The first picture was of the Paris Opera, which had been partially destroyed somehow, and was being rebuilt. Ari remembered the fire that the falling of the chandelier had caused. More pictures of the House followed, showing its reconstruction. A few showed a beautiful young couple, always looking in a different direction so you could not see their faces, There was even one photo of Erik himself, standing next to a broken mirror.

The final section of the album was filled with sketches and drawings—opera scenes, interior decoration, and portraits. Most of these were of Ari and Stella, often drawn in the embrace of the Phantom. There was even one sketch that reminded Ari of the day they'd escaped from the depths of the school—Erik stood between her and her friend, an arm around each of them. He wore no mask—instead, the right side of his face was as handsome and tempting as the left side was.

The last drawing intrigued her. Its edges had been burned, and it had been torn and repaired, but it could still be clearly made out. Ari thought she knew the teenaged girl Erik had drawn, with her masses of dark brown curls, her delicate face shape, and her wide eyes.

She was still staring at that picture when its artist returned. He held two mugs and handed her one before sitting on the other end of the couch. She took it—it was tea, sweetened and steaming. She sipped it before she asked him, "Is this Christine?"

He glanced over his own cup at the photo album. "Yes," he said. "She was sixteen."

"These are all very good, Ari remarked softly. "The sketches, I mean."

"You're too kind," he returned, oddly formal.

She raised her eyes and tilted her head, regarding him. "Why did you come here?"

He seemed startled by the question. "I'm not quite sure," came the answer. "I followed my heart."

"How romantic of you."

"I know."

His reliable clock chimed ten. Ari finished the last of her tea and closed the photo album. Erik stood and took up a candle in his hand.

"I'll lead you back to your room so you can see where you are going," he said, extending his free hand to her. "I'll leave you the light as well."

"Thank you," said Ari, putting her hand in his.

They passed through the dark corridor, and Ari smiled, remembering her favorite movie. She unknowingly hummed the "Overture", and Erik looked back at her with a wry smile.

When they reached Ari's room, Erik set the candle in a holder on a table. Ari watched him as he turned back to her.

"You will find nightclothes in that drawer," he said, pointing. Was he blushing a little? It was hard to tell in the flickering light. He took both of her hands and kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Goodnight, mon ange. I am here if you need me."

i

"Ari, Ari!"

His voice called to her gently, bringing her out of the depths of sleep. She opened her eyes and saw him standing above her, stroking her hair with the tips of his fingers. She smiled up at him—he looked so handsome in his casual white blouse and black pants, and the unmasked side of his face was soft and loving. He returned her smile warmly and said, "Good morning, my dear."

"Good morning," she replied, reaching up to put a hand on his arm.

"I have made you breakfast, when you want it, and then I will drive you home."

"Okay."

"Get dressed and come into the dining room when you are ready." His hand grazed her cheek before he left.

She rose and caught sight of a clock—it was already 9:00. Quickly dressing, she followed the smell of pancakes to the dining room. As she sat in one of the high-backed chairs, another door opened and Erik entered. He set a steaming plate of eggs and pancakes before her, and stood against one wall, watching her eat. He made her nervous.

"Why don't you eat something, Erik?" she asked him.

His eyebrow lifted slightly. "I hardly eat at all."

"But you must sit with me," she said, setting down her fork. "I insist—please have something."

He chuckled slightly and sat across from her. "The look of worry on your face is enough to convince me. Of course, I would do anything for you."

She blushed and looked down at her plate. "You are a good cook, Erik."

"Thank you." He took a bite of an apple, still watching her. "What are you really thinking about?"

She looked up again, surprised that he knew. "Stella," she said. "Are you going to go see her?"

He sighed and nodded. After I bring you home. Perhaps you should call her while I'm on my way."

"Okay, Erik, I'll tell her."

i

They sang together as they rode—Erik's idea. When they pulled into her driveway, Erik took Ari's hand and pressed it to his lips. Coyly, she let him, her eyes never leaving his face. "Erik, you're a scoundrel."

"Perhaps," he said. She giggled and drew away from him.

"I'll see you later, Erik."

"Au revoir."

She watched him pull away, feeling slightly odd, before she turned and ran up the stairs. She waved to her mother and grabbed the phone off the hook. She swiftly dialed Stella's number.

"Hi, Stella?"

"This is she."

"It's Ari. I have to talk to you…"

She briefly described what had happened, cringing when she talked about Erik's bold kiss. Stella was silent throughout the explanation.

"…and he's coming over to talk to you about it," she concluded and stopped uncertainly.

"Well, Ari, I understand," came Stella's voice, sounding slightly saddened. "Thank you for thinking of me."

"Are you all right, Stella?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Thank you for telling me. I have to study now. Goodbye."

"Bye…"

Stella hung up almost before Ari had finished her word. Ari put the phone down, worried about what had just happened.