Et Velle Et Perficere Chapter 11: Tears Such as Angels Weep, a phantom of the opera fanfic

Et Velle Et Perficere

Disclaimer: Don't own POTO… but I do own Jeremy and Lucy. Title is a nod a Milton. There's a line from Bacon, Orwell and Shakespeare… And the speech the headmaster starts is an actual speech my headmaster gave and it was met with the same reaction, I can tell you. Mmm, HP sauce…

Please read and review…

Chapter 11: Tears Such as Angels Weep…

"Penny for them…" Christine said to Erik as he sat by her bed, engrossed in thought. It was the next morning and Christine was still lying in bed holding the hot water bottle, which Jeremy had brought her earlier, to her stomach. Erik had come to see her a while later and they had been talking until he had fallen into a sort of daydream.

He looked back at her and sighed softly. "Oh, nothing… don't concern yourself with me… Anyway, how are you feeling now?"

"Better…" she said. "I'll get up and get dressed in a few minutes and we can go to Mass."

"I don't think you should get up today," he said.

"Nonsense," Jeremy said teasingly from the doorway. "My little Blue Eyes is a fighter…" He came in carrying a tray with a single plate and cup on it. "I brought you one of your favourites… One cheese and onion crisp sandwich with HP sauce on soft white bread with only the top and bottom crusts cut off… and a cup of tea – one and a half sugars, and just enough milk to make it the colour of peanut-butter…"

Christine beamed up at him and sat up to take the tray. "Thank you, sir…" She looked down at the plate and then back at Jeremy as he sat down on the side of the bed. "You said there was only one sandwich…"

"Only one for you," he clarified, "and one for me…"

Erik wondered when he would know all her favourite things and be as comfortable expressing himself around her as her surrogate father here was… "You have some strange eating habits, Angel."

"They're only strange to you…" Christine smiled as she and Jeremy tucked into their respective sandwiches.

"I would have brought you something, Erik," Jeremy said, "but I didn't know you were here… I suppose I should have guessed."

"What do you mean?" Erik asked defensively.

"He didn't mean anything by it…" Christine said, placing a hand on his arm to calm him down… it appeared to do the trick and he said little else until after Mass…

Christine was walking slightly less steadily than usual, clutching Erik's forearm in her hand as they headed back towards her room. She was bent ever so slightly forward with her free hand on her stomach and it bothered him greatly that he could do little to ease her discomfort. He had never been around someone he loved – yes, loved, he knew that now – when they were ill and he was unsure of how to soothe her… not, of course, that he would admit to loving very many people – perhaps Christine's own parents, yes, and definitely her… but no one else.

"Erik… I've never asked you this before because I know I have no right to know… you don't have to tell me, at all… but, I was wondering if you were Catholic, or not…"

Erik sighed… he certainly did not want to be having that conversation. "I was raised Roman Catholic, yes…"

"But… are you still…?"

"It were better to have no opinion of God at all, than such an opinion as is unworthy of Him…" he said ambiguously.

"Erik…?"

He sighed again and thought for a long moment. "I suppose you could say I'm an embittered atheist… the sort of atheist who does not so much disbelieve in God as personally dislike Him."

And that, Christine realised, was the most she would get out of him on the subject today.

Christine was off school for the next few days and Erik had found it absolutely awful without her. His concentration in the classes was negligible and he only did the bare minimum of what was asked of him – no more and no less… Things seemed to drag much more when Christine wasn't there… he felt as though half of him were gone without her next to him… that he was only whole when they were together. It was an odd feeling for a seventeen-year-old to have… but it was no less real because of that.

Eventually, on Wednesday afternoon, Christine had felt well enough to start doing things again. Wednesday was the night that the choir practised together in the chapel and she had decided that she would try to go, even if she couldn't take part in the singing that night. When Erik had found her getting ready, he had been reluctant to let her go… but, he realised, it was not his place to let her do anything. However, the thought of singing in a choir had intrigued him and he had decided to tag along.

It was only later in Christine's room when he realised what a good idea that had been…

"You were amazing, Erik," Christine smiled. "I have never heard a more remarkable voice…"

"I have, Angel… and it belongs to you."

Christine shook her head briefly. "No… you're wrong. I am not a patch on you… you are truly the angel among us."

Erik stepped closer to her and placed his hand in her lovely hair. "You have no idea what it means to me that you would say, even believe, such a thing… however wrong you are," he said softly. "We could spend the rest of our lives having this conversation… and I will not be swayed. I look between us and I find myself lacking…"

"How can you say that? How can you even think it?"

"Only pointing out the bleeding obvious, my dear," he muttered as he looked at her.

"My God," Christine bit out, irritated. "Why don't you just stop being so negative…? Why don't you ever listen to a word I say about you…? Why don't you… Why don't you cheer up, for Christ's sake? It's like you want people to hate you…"

"I tend to find they need no help with that…"

"You're doing it, again…" she shouted. Erik had never seen her so angry before… and it disturbed him that he was enjoying watching her so impassioned.

"What your poor mother must suffer," Christine said without thinking, "I had rather bear with you than bear you…"

Erik recoiled in agony and Christine was horrified at what she had just said. "A sentiment my mother shares, it would seem… though she didn't do much bearing with me either," he said self-pityingly.

"Erik, I am so sorry… what I said, I said out of anger… none of it was meant…"

"Though, no less true… what you might call a rather large Freudian slip," he mused sadly.

Christine couldn't help noticing that he wasn't smiling anymore and that the world was already the poorer because of it. She had hurt him terribly and she had no idea what to do to rectify it. "Oh, my poor, poor, Erik," Christine sobbed as she watched the silent tears fall down his cheek. "What a cruel and heartless creature I am to have hurt you so…" She fell to her knees before him and brought him down with her, removing his mask, much to his horror, as she pulled him closer. "Tears such as angels weep…" she whispered, placing her palms on his cheeks so that she could wipe away his tears with her thumbs.

When he stopped crying, she pulled him forward into a desperate hug and stroked his back. "What I said was untrue, Erik… you must realise that there is no bearing with you… every moment with you is precious and priceless… and I wish I could absorb all your pain, myself, so that you would never have to weep, again."

"You have a tender heart, my Angel," he whispered into her hair. "I know you did not mean to hurt me… as if you could ever mean to cause pain to anyone…"

Several long, intensely silent moments passed before Erik could find the words to speak again even though his voice was hoarse as the result of his crying. "I know that this is perhaps not the right time to ask you… but I am aware that Prize-Giving is in a couple of weeks and I was wondering if you would let me accompany you there…"

"I'm honoured that you still think enough of me to want to go with me," she said, pulling back to look into his poor, wretched face.

"I think everything of you…" he said resolutely.

And so, a couple of weeks later, Erik and Christine were sitting beside each other in the grand hall, watching the three-hour Prize-Giving service. They were rather bored even though Christine had won the prize for every subject she was doing – the Music cup, the English cup, the Art cup and even the Drama shield. Erik was extremely proud of her… but now that there was no possibility of either of them getting anything else, they were both quite restless.

"When NASA first started sending astronauts up into space," their headmaster said, starting another one of his speeches, "they quickly discovered that the average ball-point pen would not work in zero gravity. To combat this problem, NASA scientists spent a decade and $12 billion developing a pen that writes in zero gravity, upside down, on almost any surface including glass with its own light for writing in total darkness, and at temperatures ranging from below freezing to over 300˚C… in short, in any conceivable situation. The perfect pen, in fact… whereas, the Russians… used a pencil…" Nervous laughter ensued…

Christine turned to Erik. "Now, are you so sure you made the right decision when you asked to come with me, Erik?" she whispered into his ear.

"Perhaps, I should have thought about it more thoroughly," he conceded.

"Psst," they heard coming from the previously locked door to their right. They both turned to see Jeremy bending down, the door open just enough to allow him to see them. "Erik, Christine… you coming, or what?"

Needing no second invitation, the pair of them gathered her prizes and fled through the door which Jeremy locked again behind them.

"Wow," he said, "you made a killing, didn't you?"

"She certainly did," Erik agreed happily.

"Well, come on, Blue Eyes, Erik… there's someone who wishes to see the two of you in the drawing room."

"Someone wishes to see both of us…" Christine said, doubtful as they walked along the corridor to the main part of the building. "Who, exactly?"

"I believe she said her name was Lucy and that she was a social worker…"

Erik immediately became stiff… was he being sent back? Had she come to tell him he was no longer wanted by the Daaés? That he was going to have to live in that hell-hole again… somehow, he did not think he could survive that now that he had tasted Heaven in all its glory.

"This is just a follow-up visit, Erik," Lucy reassured when the three of them were seated at the large table in the drawing room. "It's your first follow-up, I believe… but don't worry… it's a good thing that you've been with the Daaés long enough to require one and that you've been placed happily now for the last couple of months. So, is everything going alright?"

Erik was sitting in his chair dejectedly, just waiting to be told that his time with Christine was to come to an end. He nodded vaguely as he could not find the words to answer her.

"And you, Christine?" Lucy asked. "How do you feel about having Erik living with you and going to school with you?"

"Well, I'm used to my parents fostering children… but, Erik is by far the most interesting." She winked at him. "I wouldn't be without him," she said soberly again to Lucy.

Erik was touched so by what she had said, that he reached under the table to clasp their hands together.

"And you're happy with the situation as it stands?" Lucy asked them both.

They shared a brief look and then nodded together as she took notes. "Well, everything seems in order… I'll let you get back to what you were doing and I'll give you another follow-up in another couple of months… Is there anything either of you want to say before I go?"

Neither of them said anything as Lucy packed up her folders and stood to leave. "Well," she said as she paused before the door, "I'm glad you've found the right family this time, Erik."

The two of them watched her leave before Erik turned to Christine and looked straight into her eyes. "If she had been talking to you alone, would you have told her you wanted rid of me?" he asked.

"I want rid of you no more than I could let go of my heart…" she said seriously. "And we have got to work on your self-confidence."

Erik watched as she pulled him out of the chair by the hand she still held and they made to walk back to the grand hall. However, Jeremy met them in the corridor as they came out of the drawing room and stopped them before they could go back to the Prize-Giving.

"Now that you're out, you don't have to go back in, you know… what I would suggest is… run for the hills…" he laughed and walked off back to the staffroom with his cup of tea.

"What should we do?" Christine asked.

He thought for a moment. "If everyone is in the grand hall then there is no one in the church… come, let us act out Faust, my sweet… let us sell our souls – just for a song!"