/N: Hi! I confess in advance to a mean cliffhanger in the end. Much thanks to the few people who review. You're all hugworthy! I still encourage everyone to leave some feedback. It can even be "Hey! I like this!" Or "Hey! You suck! Keep your day job!" But please, leave something! With that, enjoy!
la M.R
Stand and Watch It Burn: Giry Tells Two Lies I
"...But I was thinking about maybe going somewhere around here, just so, you know, I can be around if you need help with anything. I'm not even sure if I'm ready to...prostitute myself to old, perverted men, yet..."
Annette snapped her head up and choked a little on the warm tea she was drinking, much to Christine's amusement.
"I knew you weren't paying attention to me!" she laughed as her aunt wiped at her mouth with a napkin. "Is everything okay? You've seemed distracted all day."
Christine's amusement dissolved a little as her aunt gave her what seemed to be a forced smile of reassurance. "Of course, dear."
Christine raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"
Annette nodded and gestured dismissively. "I promise." After catching her niece's speculative eye, she changed the subject. "Now, what were you saying about...not being ready to...?"
"Prostitute myself?" Christine finished with a smirk, grinning a little at her aunt's horrified nod. "Actually, I was saying that I don't know if I'm ready to go to a college too far away. I want to be around...in case you need me for something."
"That's nonsense, Christine. Give me at least twenty more years before I start needing you to roll me to the park to feed the birds," Annette scoffed with a fake scowl. When Christine's laughter died down a bit, Annette's voice took a far more serious tone. "I think you should go away. Somewhere far, perhaps. It's not good for you to stay here, Christine. It isn't healthy."
Christine's brow crinkled. "Why not? I love it here. This town is...peaceful. I feel calm here. And it isn't as if there aren't good colleges around within a few miles."
"Christine, you can't live your life here forever!" She persisted, her voice oddly urgent. "You'll be safer if you go somewhere far away. You can see the world, travel a lot, gain some experience..."
"'Safer?'" Christine echoed with some confusion.
"...It isn't good to be cooped up in the same place forever, Christine. You're father used to absolutely love traveling. It's good to get away sometimes...it's just good to get away. You don't want..."
"Er...Aunt Annette?"
Annette looked up and, as if realizing Christine was still there despite the fact that they were engaging in conversation, immediately stopped and chuckled awkwardly. "I'm sorry, dear. It's just...I think it'll be better for you to go somewhere...different. I'm sure you will make the best of what you decide. You still have a lot of time, though, so don't worry."
With that, the conversation seemed to have ended, and Christine watched her aunt's movements carefully. She seemed strangely on edge and jumpy as of late. Sometimes she'd fumble with the mug of tea she was drinking or sift through the day's mail with some sort of urgent need.
With a wary smile, Christine gratefully escaped the nervous atmosphere of the kitchen and went to her room.
"Charles, lie down! You can't do this now. You need rest! Now, sit down!"
With a grunt of frustration, Charles Daaé was shoved back down on the bed by a thoroughly exasperated Annette Giry, and erupted into another fit of shuddering coughs. It took several long and agonizing moments before he settled down, and Annette watched him carefully, grateful that his daughter was well beyond hearing range of the hospital room.
"I need to see him...I have to be sure!" Charles groaned painfully after a few deep breaths.
"What you need is to get healthy so I don't have to keep sending your daughter away just so she won't have to watch her father waste away!" Annette snapped, though regretted her harsh tone instantly when she caught a brief flash of guilt in his tired eyes.
Charles sighed in resignation. "Then assure me, Ann, that the bastard is dead."
Annette sighed, remembering the very day of which the inspector had given her the news. The instant flood of relief that washed through her was enough to make her body nearly go weak. A body, she was told, had been found and identified as the very man who had been the source of so much grief for the now ill Charles Daaé and his family. It was over. They had the chance to finally be able to live in peace, and Christine would be free to pursue her talent in music. Annette recalled being completely overwhelmed with happiness, before the reality of Charles's failed health came rushing back. Why now? Why did his strength have to fail him just before the final moment of victory?
"The police said it was him," she answered her friend, letting her steady voice betray none of her emotions. "They said the man they found by the road fit the description perfectly. Apparently he managed to crawl away from the wrecked car before it exploded, but he died from injuries before anyone found him." With a loud sigh, Charles closed his eyes, letting the news wash over him.
"At least God has enough courtesy to let a man die with some peace of mind," he quipped after a long moment.
Annette gave him a stern look. "Don't talk like that, Charles."
Charles opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow at Annette, who was clearly not amused. "I'd like to see my daughter, Ann; can you bring her to me?"
The two's gazes locked for a while, both stubbornly unwilling to relent but neither ready to proceed with the conversation that needed to be had. Annette finally gave a resigned nod and left to pick the thirteen year-old Christine up from school to see her dying father.
"Erik?"
The smooth, pleasant sound of a piano stopped abruptly, as if her usage of his name caught her angel off guard. After all, even though she had known his name for a while, she always found herself addressing him as an angel, or 'sir.'
"Yes, Christine?"
Christine bit her lip nervously as she sat upon one of the steps on the stage. This was going to either end up well, or very, very badly. "Do you mind if we end today's lesson early? I...kind of have something to do."
She held her breath, waiting for her teacher's response. Was he angry? Did he think she didn't want to sing with him anymore? Perhaps she should have phrased the question differently, or mentioned her troubles before she asked to be excused. Way to go, Christine, she chided herself. You make it seem like you have to go buy a pair of shoes or get a bite to eat and my God why isn't he saying anything?
"Oh?"
The word was spoken in a deep and bitter tone that, had her worries regarding her aunt not plagued her mind, she would have simply squealed 'never mind!' and sang some scales just to correct her mistake.
"If you have better things to do, Miss Daaé, perhaps you better rethink your priorities and alter your commitments accordingly."
Christine drew a nervous breath. By now she had realized that whenever her angel had addressed her so formally, he was less than pleased with her. Figuring it best not to beat around the bush, she didn't mask her concern as she told him of her troubles. "It's just...my aunt. She's been...there's...I think something might be wrong with her."
"Wrong?" She might have been mistaken, but was that an edge of sincere concern laced his tone?
"I...I don't know. She's just seemed too stressed lately. Like today, I only tapped her on the back this morning and she nearly jumped out of her skin and whacked me in the face. She was practically shaking, even though she said she was fine. I just...she's not normally like that, you know?"
"Yes."
"And I just think something is off. Liam's coming over for dinner tonight so I'd like to talk to her before that."
"I see." There was a moment of quiet during which Christine felt her heart fluttering rapidly in her chest. "Of course you may leave early to be with your aunt, Christine. I would not deprive you of that. How are you getting home?"
Christine let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you! Oh, I almost forgot! I got my license two days ago! I have Aunt Annette's car. She thinks I'm shopping," she couldn't hold back the edge of guilt in her tone, but she nonetheless smiled as her teacher offered her a distracted congratulations and left the stage.
"Wait..." the voice caused her footsteps to stop immediately and she gazed into the darkness. For a few seconds there was silence, as if her angel were contemplating what to say. She thought, maybe, he wasn't going to say anything more before he spoke. "Know that...if something is wrong, if your aunt needs anything, you will come to me."
Christine nodded quietly before exiting the auditorium, a little stunned. All of their lessons, which occurred mostly every other day of the week and Saturdays, sometimes included a brief conversation about Christine's personal life. Her teacher had always listened to Christine, often distantly inquiring about little things like school and her friends, but he would remain oddly silent when she would mention her aunt. At first, Christine had suspected that her angel of music perhaps blamed her aunt for her own lack of musical training, but his utter lack of concern when it came to Aunt Annette seemed to run deeper than simple resentment.
Now, she was taken aback at the sudden noticeable interest in her teacher's tone when she mentioned her aunt's possible troubles. Despite her puzzlement, Christine remained extremely grateful that her angel would be there to watch over both she and her aunt.
She just hoped there wouldn't be any reason to.
"How're you feeling?"
Charles smiled sadly at his thirteen year-old daughter, who eyed him with wide and concerned brown eyes. Not willing to watch those chocolate orbs fill with sadness anymore, he promptly lied: "A little better, sweetheart."
The brightness of her face as she practically beamed and squeezed his hand sent a thrill of joy in his weakening heart. How long had it been since she'd smiled? Since she'd laughed? He couldn't even recall the last time she'd sang.
"Daddy, when will they let you go home?"
Her question sent a pang of guilt through him. Home. Would he ever see it again? Would he ever get the chance to play the violin for Christine as she fell asleep in her room? Would he ever get to live one actually free moment in his home now that the object of his fears and paranoia was finally dead?
"I...I'm not sure, Chrissy." He cursed his weakness as he felt the tears well in his eyes. No, he would not let his own fear and vulnerability reveal itself in front of his daughter. He wanted to see that smile again.
"Can you sing for me?"
He looked away. It seemed that after each passing moment of silence, Christine's expression became more somber, more fearful as the realization he had hoped to keep from her dawned. "Not now, Christine."
"Why not?" He could hear the crack in her voice as tears filled in her own eyes. She has eyes just like her mother, he mused absently.
Before he could think of a lie to tell his daughter, she continued. "It's bad, isn't it?" The question came out barely a whisper, but his heart cried out as the now broken girl nodded in realization. "All this 'it's gonna get better, Christine,' and 'your father will be home soon' are all just lies, right? I'm not blind, you know. Just 'cause I don't show it...doesn't mean...it...it doesn't mean..." Her voice faltered as tears began to stream down her face and she brushed them away, ashamed.
"Shh, it's okay, Christine. Come now, why don't you sing for me? I can't remember the last time I heard your voice."
Christine looked away, seemingly unable to hold look at his face, which he was sure was gaunt and terribly pale. "It was last April," she mumbled. Charles looked at her with questioning eyes and she raised her head to meet his gaze. "I was mad because Liam had spilled orange soda in my hair earlier that day and hadn't even apologized, and you tried to get me to forget about it by getting me to sing some stupid song."
Charles allowed himself to smile fondly at the memory of his pouting daughter, arms folded and practically seething at her best friend's immaturity. "Boys are so dumb!" She had ranted about ten times that night. But when she had sang that 'stupid song,' a song he remembered being taught by his own mother years ago, her troubles vanished almost instantly and he beamed proudly in the glow of her angelic voice.
"Why haven't you sung since?" Charles asked softly, reaching up to brush a curly lock of brown hair out of her face. He was crushed when she shifted away and brushed it aside herself.
"I guess I've realized there's no point," she answered simply, her voice cold. "You...you've been sick for a while, dad. Maybe you haven't exactly shown it..."
Charles blinked, but forced himself to keep his eyes on her.
"...But you haven't been yourself for a while. You haven't played...haven't sung for longer than I have. Why would I want to?"
"You're better than I am."
He hoped he could draw a smile from her pretty face, but she remained still. "You aren't going to get better, are you?" The question was spoken as a statement of final comprehension, rather than an inquiry, and Charles found himself incapable of finding his voice. It seemed they stood there for hours, staring at one another...her begging for the answer she already know, he unwilling to watch his daughter's heart break.
He was ashamed at the relief he felt when Christine ran out of the room.
Christine practically threw open the door and tossed her jacket and keys to the side. "Aunt Annette?" she called out, but she was only greeted with a lonely silence. "I'm home!"
She frowned slightly when she found the kitchen and living room empty. Normally she would come home to find her aunt sitting by the table reading a book or doing chores. But after a few moments of searching both the bedrooms and the downstairs area, she realized her aunt was not here.
Where was she?
There was no note left, and Christine had taken her aunt's car to the school for her lesson. "Aunt Annette?" Blatant worry was evident in her tone. "Are you here?"
She would have left a note, her mind reasoned. She wouldn't have just left...and with the way she was acting...
Suddenly the loud, obnoxious ringing of the telephone nearby forced her out of her mind's rationalizing and she yelped in surprise. After a brief second, she answered it with a sigh of relief. "Hello?"
Silence.
"Hello?" she tried again.
No answer. Christine was about to hang up when she heard a distinct rustle on the other line. Someone was there.
"Aunt Annette?" she called, her voice urgent and loud.
There was a click and the line went dead.
His eyes snapped open as the faint sound of a footstep reached his ears, echoing off the damp, dark walls of his home. Instinctively, his gloved hands reached for his roped weapon and he silently crept against the wall toward the tunnel entrance near the left. As soon as he heard the rustle of footsteps, he kept still in the shadows, cloaked in the darkness. He waited, his lasso clutched tightly in his fist as his eyes roved the pitch black darkness for an approaching figure.
Within seconds, he spotted a vague outline of some form and lunched at the shape, violently wrapping the roped lasso around the intruder's neck and shoving them up against the wall of the tunnel. Tightening the rope just enough to evoke choked gasps, his hands on the weapon slackened when the trespasser mumbled a strangled: "Erik!"
With one skilled flick of the wrist, he removed the rope from the person's neck and took a step back, eyeing the intruder suspiciously for some recognition. It was a woman, he realized. He studied what characteristics he could make out in the darkness as the woman clutched at her neck and caught her breath.
It wasn't the dark hair, tied tightly in a bun that led to his recognition. It wasn't the thin nose and rather stern and worn facial expression.
It was the furious yet familiar penetrating glare she sent him that he plainly recognized even in the darkness.
"Hello, Annette," he murmured coldly, a wry smile playing upon his lips. "Well, isn't this a pleasant surprise..."
A/N: What's the verdict? Too long? Too much maybe going on? Anything I should change?
Please R&R! I won't know if this sucks unless you tell me. More reviews, more updates, people!
la M.R
