And the plot thickens. Welcome back and my deepest thanks to those of you who reviewed, you have truly made my night!
Aisuru-chan, littlemisshedgehog, Ceris Malfoy, the Mouse in the Opera House, Broken Songstress. Strawberry flavored chocolate coated fudge to you all!
For those of you who didn't review, thanks for reading!
Disclaimer: I do not own POTO or any of it's associations. I do, however, own a very nice Holy Grail that is very useful for holding tea and the like.
Only You
Christine
In a remarkably short time, Erik returned. She had not worried. The Vicomte's chances of catching and disarming Erik were laughably low. No one could find the Phantom in his Opera House if he did not want to be found. She breathed easier once he was with her, though. Standing alone in the dark, dusty passage had done little for her nerves. "Erik," she began softly, apprehensively. "I think it would be best if I did not go back down to the gala. Would you--?
"He laughed softly, sending a thrill through her. She realized, with a jolt, that it was the first time that she had heard him laugh. It was heady, sensuous. "Would I stay with you, Christine? Yes." His face relaxed and grew pensive with thought. "Actually... would you prefer, Christine, if we went to the underground lake? I would feel better if you were not within the Vicomte's reach tonight." At her assenting nod, he took her hand and led her down the passage to the lake. They stopped a moment by Madame Giry's room. "If anyone asks," Erik told the woman, "Christine is in her room and does not wish to be disturbed. The gala has fatigued her." It took several minutes to convince Madame Giry that Christine was, indeed, with Erik of her own free will. Eventually, a flushed Christine explained the Vicomte's erratic behavior. The woman's mouth pursed, she raised her eyebrows at Erik. He interpreted the look correctly. "Yes, Madame, he is still breathes. I do not think the managers would appreciate the kind of publicity a patron's death brings"
"While we are on the subject," Madame Giry interjected crisply. "I believe we need to start searching for a new patron, my dear." She nodded at Christine. "I shall see what I can find. Now go. I must return to the gala. Monsieur Reyer and the managers will be missing me"
"See what she can find?" asked a curious Christine.
A corner of Erik's mouth twitched with amusement. "Madame Giry's connections are... extensive. You would not think it to look at her, would you?" He handed her into the boat, than stepped in himself. The mist was deceptively chilly, in the candlelight, it looked warm and golden. Christine was suddenly swept up by memories. The strange duet, Erik's desperate flight after Don Juan, the return journey with Raoul. She seemed suddenly unable to breathe as she thought of all she had put Erik through. He's like a child with his forgiveness, she thought. Like an angel. And then, a more sober realization, a promise, I will never leave him again. Erik hummed softly under his breath. The stir of the water echoed faintly.
"Christine?" She half-turned to look at him. "Hmm?" For once, he was tentative, almost shy. "How did you know-when did you realize that you did not-" he broke off uneasily.
"When I realized that I did not, in fact, love the Vicomte?" She frowned, pensive, her brow creased with thought. "I don't know when, exactly. It was just... he could not seem to realize that I was no longer a child. I was still his Little Lotte to him, and whenever I tried to convince him otherwise, he either denied it or ran off. I'm nothing more than a plaything to him, a child, something to be protected, held carefully close and never allowed on my own." They reached the far shore; he picked her up, holding her firmly, one arm under her knees, the other circling her shoulders. She put her arms around his neck. "That's how I knew, Erik. You protected me, but you loved me enough to let me go, in the end." A half-smile crossed her face. "I just couldn't let you go."
His voice was lowered, warm. "Christine," He stopped, unaware of anything but her, and set her gently on her feet. She smiled up at him. "Yes?" He stroked an errant curl back from her face tentatively. "I don't think I could let you go a second time." She rested her head against his shoulder.
"I don't think I want you to."
Notes
Christine
The next morning, Christine woke early and found herself- of all places- in her dressing room. Did last night really happen? She gazed around the room, so bedecked with flowers that it resembled a greenhouse. Or was it all a dream? She closed her eyes. Please, let it not have been a dream. When she opened them, she found herself looking a slip of white paper on her vanity. A simple E adorned the upper right corner. She crossed to the vanity and sat down, unfolding the paper.
Christine, I thought, given the events of last night, that my managers would be uneasy if you were not readily available in the morning. Forgive me, I know it was discourteous to do without first asking you. I wish I could be here when you wake, but Madame Giry has found a patron and requested my assistance in the matter. I think you will like our new patron. Should you need me, however, I will be there. My love, Christine.
E
Christine ran her fingers over the creamy paper. I wish you had been here, too, Erik. Than her mood brightened. Madame Giry has already found a new patron. And Erik's enigmatic comment: I think you will like our new patron. She smiled and shook her head at the note. You like to keep me guessing, don't you, Erik?
Erik
He had left Christine, somewhat reluctantly, in her dressing room. What if the fop should get to her? Than he had reminded himself that the boy did not have the key to his angel's dressing room. Erik intended to keep it that way. "...and I will inform the managers that, in a recent letter, my sister had expressed the desire to see the Opera of which I tell so much." Erik redircted his attention to Madame Giry. Judging by the way her eyebrows were raised at him, however, it seemed that the woman knew he had not been listening. "You will see her later, my dear," she scolded gently. "For now, pay attention!"
The barest hint of a teasing smile crossed his face. "Yes, Madame Giry."
"And respect your elders too, young man." She added, but before she turned away, Erik could have sworn she smiled as well.
"When shall we expect the lady in question, Madame?"
"Tommorrow. Her estate is relatively close to the city, after all". Erik shook his head. "You never cease to amaze me." Madame Giry's eyes softened. "Thank you, little brother." She said, using her pet name for him. "And now, unless I'm much mistaken, you are wishing to look in on Christine." Erik half-bowed in mock gratitude. "You are never mistaken, Madame." She flapped a hand at him. "Oh, get out, you."
He was bound, as ever, to have the last word. "As you wish."
Christine
It was sometime later, after she had finished dressing, that she noticed another note in front of the door, apparently slid under it last night. Oh, no. She went apprehensively over to it, picking it up with trepidation. She was not dissapointed.
Little Lotte, I am extremely upset with you. After the events of last night, I do not see how you can maintain loyalty to that monster. On that note, if you do not stop seeing him and resign yourself to a more suitable temperment, I will be forced to take some rather unpleasent actions if you do not do as I ask, the sensible thing. Firstly, I advise you to forget the Opera Populaire. If you cannot be in it without searching for your masked devil, than you cannot be in it at all. Secondly, I request your presence at my side in matrimony, should you wish my patronage of the Opera to continue. I should hate to see your little friend Meg, and her mother, begging on the streets. My requests are fair and reasonable. I expect your answer in two days. Until then,
Vicomte Raoul deChagny
Christine stared blankly at the paper. "Erik," whispered. "I hope your patron is on their way. If not..."
If not, we may have more trouble than we can handle!
I'm Here, Nothing Can Harm You
Erik
He stepped through the mirror, relieved that the Vicomte would soon be gone out of their lives. He could hardly wait to deliver the good news to Christine, to see the shadows of tenseness and fear dissapear dissapear from behind her eyes. Until he saw Christine standing, still as death, with a note in her hand. A note that was not his.
Dear God. "Christine?" He was at her side in the space of a breath, holding her. "Christine, what is it?" She handed him the note. She was pale and trembling, her eyes huge in the candlelight. "Please tell me you have good news," she whispered. Her voice shook as she handed him the note. He scanned it quickly. His fingers tightened on the paper, creasing the linen paper. Only the angel in his arms kept him from tracking the fop down and wringing his neck. How dare he threaten her! Than he saw Christine's half-fearful eyes on him.
"I won't kill him, Christine, if that's what you're thinking." As much as I'd like to. "Don't be afraid. Our new patron is arriving tommorrow. Madame Giry's sister." He tightened his hold on her, she buried her head in his collar. The simple touch sent a flurry of emotions through him like startled birds."Until then, I'll watch over you." His voice lowered, forceful. "Nothing will harm you while I'm here, Christine, I promise." He stroked her hair, to soothe himself as much as her. Fear of what the Vicomte might do to her- half-formed whisperings in the back of his mind that he dared not contemplate, filled him with an almost primal urge to protect his angel.The light on the auburn curls trembled as she shook her head. "He'll kill you. He won't let me go."
"He can try." Erik's voice was soft against her hair. "But I will not leave you to his mercy. Never, while there is a single breath in my body."
Christine
She felt it radiating off of him, a fierce protectiveness, like a falcon defending it's mate. She let it surround her like a coccoon, warm and enveloping. His arms around her were firm, eyes reflecting a devotion that made her breathless.
"Erik," she asked softly, wanting to change the mood before she broke down and cried on him. "You said our prospective patron was Madame Giry's sister? Why does she not live with her?"
Erik seemed to sense how close she was to the edge, no matter how well she thought that she hid it. He rubbed her shoulders comfortingly. "For several reasons, Christine. To protect me, to watch over you. She loves the Opera House, you know. The girls are like her daughters. And lastly... Christine, do you think Madame Giry would be content to live on someone else's charity? Her sister married into the aristocracy, and Madame Giry will not use that to her advantage. Unless, of course," his eyes warmed to a glowing blue, "it is to protect her girls."
"I see." She did, too. Madame Giry, however cool she seemed, cared deeply about her girls, protecting them from the unwanted attentions of stage hands and managers alike. Threaten her girls, and Madame Giry became a dangerous enemy. Almost as dangerous as the Phantom.