Their appetites for each other were insatiable. For two days, they spent hours on end lying with each other. Not always having sex, sometimes simply talking, or watching each other in a comfortable silence.
"I wish I were a bird." Kerri said suddenly. Erik smiled.
"A bird? What kind?"
"I don't care. As long as I can fly."
"And what would you do as a bird? Peck people's eyes out?"
She giggled. "No. I would see the world."
"Where do you want to go?"
She sighed, playing with the path of hair leading from his belly button to his groin.
"I want to see Spain, and Italy, and the Americas, and England…"
"You can't go to England! The British hate the French!"
"So? I want to see it anyway."
Erik sighed.
"Maybe one day your husband will take you."
"I want you to take me."
"Kerri, don't be naïve. You know that's not possible."
"Anything is possible."
"What about money?"
"Monsieur Lefevre paid you 20,000 francs a month for 30 years, Erik. That's over seven million francs."
"How do you know what I was paid?"
"Raoul complained that they were trying to cheat him out of twenty thousand a month by saying it was a 'Phantom's salary."
Erik chuckled.
"Speaking of him, he owes me seven months of pay."
"Well, I'll be sure to let him know, right after I tell him we're lovers."
"If you want to approach it like that, you're welcome to. However, I'm not sure he'll be in the best of moods thereafter."
"You're not kidding. He'd kill you."
"I thought you said I could beat him in any fight."
"He'd have someone else kill you." She corrected. She kissed his stomach, and then got up, putting on her roe and slippers.
"Where are you going?" He sat up, watching her fix her hair.
"I need to practice playing, if you must know."
"What do you play?"
"The violin, piano, mind games." She smiled, heading for the door.
"I didn't say you could go anywhere." He objected.
"I didn't know I had to ask." She replied coolly, leaving the door ajar. He wondered if he should follow, or if she wanted him to.
Gathering the sheet around him because he really didn't feel like searching for a shirt, he went across the hall, through another door left open.
"Curiosity killed the cat, you know." Kerri sat at a piano, sifting through sheets of music.
"So did sitting on its ass all day doing nothing." He looked around, taking in all of the instruments. He felt at home.
"Not nearly as magnificent as your shrine to Polyhymnia, but at least I have a view."
"You know your mythology." He commented. She nodded, picking a piece by Chopin.
"And I must say, you know how to accessorize exceptionally well." She glanced over her shoulder.
"Don't make fun of me."
"Don't give me material."
She began playing, slowly at first, but quickly picking up tempo. Erik watched in amazement; she was playing without ever looking at the notes.
When she finished, she sighed and rotated her shoulders.
"Do you play that a lot?" He asked.
"No. This is only my second time."
"You're joking. No one plays that well on their second try."
"Well I do. My trick is that I can hear the notes as I read them, so I just spit them back out."
"Do you play the violin in the same way?"
"No. With the violin, I play whatever comes to me." She hesitated. "Do you want to play with me?"
"I haven't played in years." He shook his head.
"This stuff never leaves you Erik."
She was right. But still, it had been so long…
"That one up there is out of tune, but it plays beautifully."
He picked it up, examined it. It was old, but well-kept.
"Do you have any rosin?" He asked finally. Kerri seemed almost shocked.
"On the shelf. It's somewhere up there." She pointed above his head behind him.
"So does your brother play any instruments?" Erik sat down, greasing the bow.
"Umm, I don't think so. He took lessons for awhile when he was ten, but I think he finally gave up. He's better at cards." She paused, taking her own violin out of its case.
"I think my mother made this room for him actually, so she wouldn't have to hear him practice."
"This is his room?"
Kerri shrugged. "I sort of took it over. I like it because it's sound proof, the walls are four inches thick, and filled in, I believe."
"So no one knows when you're in here?"
"Nope. I prefer it that way, actually. Solitary living has always been more of my forte."
He nodded as he tuned the violin, plucked the strings and adjusted the instrument again.
"So basically, you're a prisoner."
"Not a prisoner." She shook her head.
"Can you leave on your own free will?"
She thought about it for a moment.
"No."
"Then you are a prisoner."
She opened her mouth to protest.
"Not all prisons are objective, Kerri." He added. She made a face. She hated it when her own words were used against her.
"So are we playing or aren't we?"
Kerri grinned.
"Sure." She positioned the violin, poising to play. "Try and keep up."
She played fast, lively music in a way he'd only heard from courtiers in Persia. He fell in with her tune quickly, at first only striking a few notes, but then gaining confidence, and feeling the need to show off. He played continually faster, but then nearly halted, dropping into a slow, sorrowful, almost melancholy tune. Kerri had stopped to watch in amazement, nay, adoration.
"Would you like to know something even more pitiful than that tune?" Erik sighed, placing the violin back in its case.
"I would hardly call your playing pitiful."
"I helped build that Opera House."
"And you burnt it down? Why?" Kerri immediately sat down on the couch.
"Because it needed to be done. How else was I to escape unnoticed?"
"Escape to where?"
"Like you said Kerri, I twenty thousand francs a month for thirty years. I'm a very rich man."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"Anywhere I chose. Another city, another country, another continent if I so desired. As long as Christine was with me, it didn't matter."
"So where were you going when I found you?"
"Hell, I suppose. That is where fallen angels and murderers go, correct?"
"So you really were just going to let yourself burn, like everything else in that forsaken building? That is so…obtuse."
"Who are you to judge me or my actions?"
"I'm not judging anything. That is my opinion."
"The way you said it…"
"'The way I said it' what, Erik? God in heaven, you are so conceited! Everything always has a second meaning with you!"
"I have to be like that, Kerri! Do you know how many times I have escaped death? I am always on my guard! And now, with a warrant out for my arrest, I have no choice but to act this way."
"You always have a choice, Erik! Every time! Whether it's as simple as choosing the red or blue shirt to wear, or as complicated as what piece you'll play for the recital, you always have a choice. And I know for damn sure that if a bullet came through that window and shot me, and I lived to talk about it, I would cherish every moment from then on. You talk of how hard your life has been, how difficult it is to face the world every day, but you've had it so easy! So you've lived through your mothers hatred and the Gypsies abuse, that means nothing. You're still standing, aren't you? And look at what you've learned along the way! You are so brilliant! You're a composer, and a wonderful architect, and a magician, and you speak so many languages! But all of that is overshadowed by your self hatred. You turn it outward, and blame it on the world for everyone's lack of compassion, when no one would care what you looked like if you didn't!"
"This coming from a woman born of superficial aristocrats! Quite the hypocrite, aren't we?"
"I'm not talking about the nobles or the royal family. They count for nothing in this country. The underlings, the people who hawk bread on corners and sell glassware for a living, those are who count. They know what it is to live. You could find one man on the street who wanted to die, but there would be one hundred men next to him who are just happy to wake up in the morning. I have tried to show compassion here, but you shove it back in my face."
Erik laughed, a harsh grating sound.
"I find it extremely amusing that you talk of living as if you know. What is your greatest accomplishment?"
"Living with you."
She got up, preparing herself to leave.
"If you want my love, Erik, learn to love yourself first."
She slammed the key cover down on the piano, flinging the door closed behind her.