A/N - Sorry for the delay. Attack of the real life! But I got to hang out with the Phantom on the 30th. What could be a better excuse for not updating?
I realized that in some of my previous chapters my dividers were missing - so if it seems like it jumps from one part to another quickly, sorry! I'll try to find time to fix it.
Oh, and Erik is a little dark - but we love him still, right?
And echo - All I have to say is "whine!"
"She says she cannot remember once she wakes, but I wonder if she's simply afraid to tell us what lies in her dreams." Raoul's voice was hushed, even though they were downstairs in the parlor and Elizabeth couldn't possibly hear their conversation form where she lay resting in her bed.
The other man present was quite old, balding, and round in the middle. He nodded sagely, as though he understood perfectly. Raoul wasn't convinced.
"Is there any drink we could give her to calm her spirits?" A cool female voice inserted, and Raoul turned to find that his wife had entered as well. "Food, medicine, herbs, anything?"
"This is all related to this marriage, Christine, I am telling you! If it's going to drive our daughter insane, then it's not worth it!" Raoul's voice had risen, coming across more harshly than he intended.
Christine blanched, glancing toward the stranger overhearing their affairs. She cast a wary gaze toward Raoul and simply allowed the comment to pass. He may be upset enough to discuss all of their personal matters in the presence of the nosey doctor, but she was not.
The aforementioned doctor was simply watching all that transpired. His gaze shifted between the two individuals before him. Such an odd pairing, he mused to himself. When a silence ensued, he coughed lightly.
"Ah.. ehm.. chamomile is rather calming. Put a sachet of lavender under her pillow before she sleeps. A glass of warm milk may help..."
Raoul suddenly seemed frustrated with this meeting and waved a hand in dismissal toward the old doctor. "Thank you for your time, Monsieur.." he murmured, remembering his manners. The man nodded, donning his hat after murmuring niceties to Christine. He hurried out, and Raoul sighed - slumping heavily into a chair.
"It's off, Christine. I will not subject my daughter to this." His voice was quiet, but stern.
Instantly Christine's temper flared. "You are a coward and a fool then, Raoul! She is a child, a foolish and naive one at that. She cannot make a decision like this on her own, and in the years to come she will thank us!"
Raoul was accustomed to these outbursts. Twenty years of marriage had taught him much about the saucy lady across from him. On most occasions he simply ignored the yelling, choosing to let her cool down before broaching the subject again. This time, however, he had been pushed too far. He stood quickly, grasping Christine by the shoulders.
"You are the fool, Christine! You think you see the same mistakes of your youth in your daughter. She is her own person, a separate individual Christine. You cannot punish her for your sins! You chose me Christine - no matter how often you've regretted it." A cynical tone tinged his last words and he released her in disgust.
"I've let you make many decisions about her, Christine. You are her mother and God knows she loves you, but you're being irrational and I am not going to let you ruin her life because of a perceived sin that still haunts you to this day!"
The door slammed loudly behind him as he stormed out, and Christine scowled. If only Raoul knew...
"It's going to snow," Nicholas promised, lifting Elizabeth's hand to his lips in greeting. He placed a tender kiss there, and smiled upwards at her through his dark mask. Normally, his odd sort of greeting would have been eagerly accepted and the two would have been off - chattering about everything under the sun. Tonight, however, as he lifted his gaze to her face a pang of worry shot through Nicholas. Her beautiful face was pale, and dark rings circled her lovely eyes. The spark that would shine in them seemed absent, and her gaze was dull. Almost as though her mind were not there at all.
"Elizabeth?" He spoke through a sharp intake of breath.
The sweet angel perched atop the black stallion forced a smile, and allowed herself to slip down into his deft hands. He caught her easily and placed her on the ground, though he didn't release her. Instead, his fingers tangled within hers. His free hand lifted to brush a honeyed curl away from her eyes.
"What plagues you, my angel?"
"Nothing," she murmured, canting her head aside to earn a light caress of his fingers. She longed to lose herself in his arms, his words, his embrace. How infuriating and appealing this man before her was! She felt strongly for him and yet he evaded all talk of that, instead encouraging her to marry a boy who would have taken her against her will.
Nicholas heeded the silent plea for his touch, stroking her soft cheek. He leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to her forehead. She wasn't feverish.
"You're not convincing me," he murmured against her flesh, pulling away again. He tipped her chin upwards so that their eye's met. "Please, Elizabeth. Tell me."
"My dreams... they are becoming so much more.. real. Last night I dreamed he was taking me through the streets of Paris, and when I woke up.. I was outside. In my nightclothes, no less! I feel as though he can... control me. Like a puppet, and he only gets better at it." Elizabeth shuddered despite the warmth of her cloak, instinctively drawing closer to the protection Nicholas unknowingly offered.
Nicholas wrapped his arms about her then, in a comforting embrace. His mind was racing. What monster plagued her dreams? How could he contend with such a thing? How could he protect her?
"Why won't you tell me more about him, Elizabeth? You've only ever told me that he teaches you.. that he wants you to sing. And you've sang quite beautifully, but why so secretive? Why are you trying to protect a specter in your dreams?" Nicholas had lowered his tone in an attempt to calm her, convince her.
The tone of his voice had a different effect. It echoed about in Elizabeth's mind in that dizzying fashion and she groaned against the familiar sensation.
"I am not," she countered weakly, still clinging to him.
"Then why?" Nicholas demanded, more firmly.
"I am trying to protect you." The words were murmured so softly Nicholas had to strain to hear them, and then piece them together in his mind. Elizabeth recoiled as she realized she had actually muttered them aloud.
"Me? From what?" Nicholas queried, searching her gaze for an answer. Elizabeth stammered.
"Nothing. I wasn't thinking.. Please forgive me, Nicholas - I am quite tired and a bit strained as you can imagine.." The social charm had been turned on, and the very carriage of Elizabeth's delicate form had shifted. It was repuslively... arsitocratic.
"You're lying," he hissed, his tone not without affection - only quite stern.
"Nicholas, please leave it be!" Elizabeth turned from him, storming toward the road. Her escape was halted, however, when his strong arms looped about her waist. He captured her, and she was pinned with her back against his chest. The feeling was all too familiar, and Elizabeth struggled in an embrace she would have previously delighted in. "Stop it!" She squealed, smacking at his hands. Deftly, he caught them, pinning them to her sides. His voice was warm as he spoke against her throat.
"I will release you when you tell me, Elizabeth. I lo... care very deeply for you, and if this curse relates at all to me then I will have you tell me this instant! If you care for me at all, Elizabeth, you will tell me." A coil of terror had wound it's way into Nicholas' stomach. The darkness that tainted his entire life had touched hers, despite his attempts to keep it from her.
"It's your father!" Elizabeth yelled in defeat, managing to wrench herself from his grasp as it loosened in surprise.
"What?" He asked, dumbfounded. Was his sweet little Beth losing her mind?
"Your father, Nicholas. The Opera Ghost, whatever you choose to call him. In sleep he sings to me, in dreams he comes.. He calls to me. He brings me to him, in my sleep. He says that I will belong to him, to pay for my mother's sins. He's horrible, Nicholas! And yet.. Wonderful. Oh, his eyes - I wish you could see him. But no! You shouldn't. He's wicked and evil and brilliant and.."
Elizabeth was weeping now, and Nicholas barely managed to catch her as she slumped to the ground. His mind raced. How could he disbelieve something as dramatic as this? Elizabeth was as sane as anyone he had ever known, he could not betray her confidence now.
"Shh," he murmured into her hair, stroking her back. "Quiet, my love. I am here.." Nicholas spoke reassuring words to her until she quieted in his arms.
Elizabeth hiccuped, trembled, and squirmed until she had dozed off. Sleep had been hard to come by for Elizabeth, as she struggled against the dreams that promised to come. In the comfort of Nicholas' arms, she found her first peaceful rest since the dreams began.
Nicholas, meanwhile, began to plot the first encounter with his father. A confrontation, nonetheless.