A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir.
Episode 54: Mending
By: Elektra
Giry's Apartment
Giry sat in her apartment writing notes for the ballet corps.Giselle had chosen to leave behind the Populaire due to various personal reasons: one of her students had been murdered, another kidnapped, and a third had been stalked and had her life threatened.
It had all been too much for Giselle to deal with and she had needed to extricate herself from the Populaire as soon as possible.
Firmin had called up Giry, begging her to replace Giselle on short notice. She gladly accepted.
Upon speaking to Meg, Giry had also agreed to let her daughter stay with the company rather than insist she return to school. Sorelli and Jammes had been made apprentices, and Christine… well, Christine was currently rehearsing the main role in the Populaire's upcoming opera. To return to school would have been a step back for all four girls.
Carlotta was nowhere to be seen.
Giry was startled from her thoughts as her cell phone began ringing. "Hello?" she answered quickly. "Nadir? What is wrong?" She waited as Nadir revealed what had happened the previous night.
"Oh… well…" Giry was unsure what to say. "Of course, I imagine he WOULD be upset about that. His view of his mother is not complementary, and to find that a friend is beginning a relationship with her… but who am I to judge? If you are happy, it is all well and good."
She waited for him to speak again. "No, Nadir, I have not seen Erik for a while now. Perhaps Christine will know where he is. I will get you the number."
She went through her phone book to find Meg and Christine's home phone number, but froze when she heard the other part of Nadir's story. "He wants to know about the Executioners?"
Giry took a deep breath. "I am not sure of them myself. His best bet would be to ask Leroux… though I don't think he's all that willing to give information." She frowned. "I wonder why Erik is curious about such things now. Ah well, if he comes to me, I will tell him you wish to speak to him. Ah, here is Christine's number: 555-4532. Yes… yes, you have a good day too, Nadir."
With that, Giry hung up. Perhaps there was no wonder about Erik's queries after all. Erik had mentioned on many occasions that he wanted to leave the Executioner behind for Christine.
Perhaps this was his attempt to do so.
Populaire – a week later
Christine lay on the couch in the dressing room, an arm over her eyes.
One month. It had been one month since she had seen Erik. Her conversation with him on the darkened stage last week didn't count, as she had not actually laid her eyes upon him.
Was this it? Were they finished? The very thought of that brought a lump to her throat. In fact, it had caused her to miss several notes during rehearsal.
"You were off today," came a voice she knew all too well.
Christine immediately sat up and looked around the room. There was no one there. She glanced up and saw the grate in the ceiling, then frowned.
"Great," she muttered sarcastically. "The man I've memorized from top to bottom can't stand to let me see him now."
There was a brief silence, then, "You've memorized me?"
Christine blushed,then lay down again and turned to face the back of the couch. "Maybe."
"How could you stand to look close enough to memorize me?" he asked.
She let out a harsh laugh. "You act like it was some terrible hardship."
"Was it not?"
"No, Erik. It wasn't. I actually LIKED paying attention to you, whether you want to believe that or not," Christine replied with a frown.
It was always the same argument.
Erik was not beautiful, but she had found the scars that marred his body and the blue-black lines that could be seen beneath his pale skin rather fascinating. How often had she traced each and every one with her kisses, only to drive him crazy with the intimate attention?
Christine continued to stare at the upholstery before her as she brought herself back to the present. Would she ever be able to do that again?
"If you don't want to be with me anymore, just tell me. Let me go live my life," she finally said, trying not to let her voice crack with the emotion weighing down on her.
"No," Erik replied.
Christine jumped up from the couch at the closeness of the voice, only to see Erik standing no more than three feet from her. "What do you mean no?"
He studied the girl before him, his tone growing dark. "I am not a very stable man, as you are aware. I need you."
Christine frowned. "Sure, you say that now, but how long before you get all depressed and broody, and decide you need to avoid me again? I've had enough!" she snapped. "Don't you get it, Erik? I'm ready to just give up on us!" He remained silent. She went up to him and shoved at his chest. "Will you SAY something, damn it!"
"Do not shove me, Christine…" Erik hissed, eyes narrowed.
"Why not?" she challenged. "This is the most reaction I've gotten out of you in four weeks!" She shoved at his chest again.
"Christine," he growled, grasping her wrists.
"Don't Christine me!" she replied, yanking herself away. "Do you even think of what your actions do to other people?"
"They obviously made you very angry!" he snapped back.
"My anger is justified! How did you expect me to react? You had no right to mess with my emotions like that! I have every reason to be-"
"Christine?"
"What, Erik?" she snapped, not appreciating being interrupted.
"May I kiss you?"
She looked at him in disbelief. "Kiss me? I'm busy yelling at you right now!"
"I know..." he replied. "I forgot how lovely you are when you're angry."
Christine continued to stare at him, dumbfounded. He took that as an answer, his strong bony fingers suddenly tangling into her hair as his mouth came down hard upon hers. "Forgive me..." he murmured through the kiss, "For everything..."
That was enough. Christine slowly splayed hands flat against his chest, unable to prevent her lips from parting and allowing the kiss more intimacy.
I am already damned to hell. I should not drag her down with me… Erik thought as he slid his arms around her, but Christine Daaé is MINE, and I cannot give her up.
"Chris- WOAH!"
Erik and Christine quickly jumped apart, their breathing harsh.
Meg stood in the doorway of the dressing room, staring at them. "Well… uh… don't let me interrupt you." She had the decency to look embarrassed.
"Meggy…" Christine stepped away from Erik, her back turned to him for a brief moment. "Um… Erik and I… er… we were just… talking…"
"Talking?" Meg repeated with a raised eyebrow. "Wow, Raoul and I must talk a lot then…" she joked. "Maybe I'll just leave you two alone to finish your… talk." With a wink, Meg headed back out of the dressing room.
Christine put her hands to her cheeks for a few moments and tried to calm the heat in her body, "Erik, I- " she turned to where Erik had once been, only to find he had disappeared once again. "Damn it!"
Laramie Dr
Shay fiddled with the rope in his hands, the last memento of his fake son, Adam. "You know, Ms. Robichaux, I used to be quite adept at using one of these," he said to Martine as he slid the loop around his wrist.
"You sound almost wistful, Sytri." Martine pointed out.
"Well, yes. Those were good times…" A shadow passed over his handsome face, indicating that the good times had ended in a rather unpleasant way.
"I wonder what Erik is up to," he spoke suddenly. "Surely his lovely little angel found witnessing his recent kill rather disturbing."
Martine nodded. "That she did. But it did not stop her feelings for him." Her eyes then fell upon the rope he was pulling tighter around his wrist. "Can you not do that?"
Shay slid it off his hand and around his neck. "Does it bother you?" he asked, then suddenly tugged it tight and lolled his head to the side as if he were dead. Martine turned on her heel in disgust and headed down the hall.
In a blur, Shay suddenly appeared in front of her, nearly causing her to crash into him. "You're not much for death, are you Ms. Robichaux?" he asked. "Oh sure, you can torment people until your heart's content, but you draw the line at murder." He chuckled at that. "I give you credit for showing more morals than my son."
"Leave me be, Sytri." She turned away from him, only to be stopped by a strong hand on her shoulder.
"Do you know that you are the only female I have been associated with that did NOT fall into my bed? That is rather impressive."
She frowned. "I am not so weak-willed."
"Of course not, but you are quite lovely. Smooth mocha skin." He slid his fingers down her cheek. "Dark eyes, thick auburn hair…" He smirked. "Not your natural colour, of course. It is supposed to be black as midnight, with lovely streaks of silver, no?"
Martine narrowed her eyes. "If you are attempting to seduce me, that is not the way to go about it."
"How old are you? Forty-two? Forty three?" Shay asked. "Surely you are out of your thirties."
"Yes, Sytri – thank you so very much of reminding me of my mortality!"
"Ah, don't take offense, Martine. I am merely trying to say that you are like a fine wine – you only grow better with age."
"I don't believe I gave you permission to address me by my first name," Martine snapped.
Shay laughed at that."Oh, age has not withered your spunk. I'm sure you must have had many male admirers in your youth."
"If you're quite done telling me how old I am , there is something on television I want to watch!"
"What is my son doing now?" Shay asked suddenly.
"I don't have a hidden camera on him, I could not tell you."
"Oh, I'm sure you could," he said. "You see, he has managed to block ME from his mind, but I know you have a way of keeping your eye on possible enemies. Surely you can tap into that and let me know?"
"I see no need to right now," she replied. "More than likely, the boy is sleeping. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm missing Law and Order."
With that, Martine continued down the hall and turned into the room she had taken for her own.
Shay watched her go. If it had been anyone else, he would have punished them for such a refusal. But he needed this woman. She was not someone to make an enemy of.
Keep her on your good side… he told himself.
In the end, he would do with her what he pleased.
Christine and Meg's apartment – late that night
Christine's eyes opened slowly to fall upon a sleeping skeletal face framed by shoulder-length ebony hair.
For most, that would be cause for alarm, followed by a plea to wake up from a nightmare.
For Christine, however, she could only reach out and trace her fingers gently over the soft skin stretched taut before her. Was he really here, or was it a figment of her imagination brought on by the incident in the dressing room?
Raising her head ever so slightly, she barely touched her mouth to pliant lips, feeling a slight tickle of breath upon her skin.
Yes… Erik was real. He had somehow managed to sneak his way into her room without her knowledge. Not that she minded.
With a content sigh, she curled up against the unmoving body atop her blankets and closed her eyes to sleep again.
"Christine..." a silky voice breathed out her name.
"Hmmm?" she mumbled as she snuggled closer.
"I... I should not have stayed here," Erik's voice suddenly grew distressed, his comforting warmth quickly disappearing.
Christine sat up blinking, startled at the sudden movement. "Erik?" He pulled on his mask, looking ready to leap.
Throwing off her blankets, she practically jumped atop him, pinning him beneath her. "Don't go!" she insisted, then pressed her face against his shoulder. "Unless you were lying in the dressing room when you said you needed me?"
"Christine..." he slid his arms up around her.
She sniffled, fresh tears leaving dampness on his clothed shoulder. "We used to hang out, watch movies, play video games. I liked having you beside me at night."
She clutched at him. "And singing! We haven't sung together in so long. My lessons. You forgot all about my lessons. I know you're still singing, Erik! I heard CAM on the radio… but… you keep forgetting me."
Erik carefully changed their positions so he could look down at her. "I could never forget you." He wiped away her tears with gentle fingers. "Trust me on that."
Christine stared at him, her eyes red and puffy. "Fine. I'll trust you." She pushed herself to a sit. "I'm going to wash my face. I want you to be here when I return. If you're not, then I know that's it. That's the end. I refuse to play games!Be here when I get back. PROMISE me!"
He glanced at her, then looked away. "I promise."
With that, she rolled off the bed and headed to the washroom.
Erik tugged off his mask once again, followed by his boots and tear-soaked shirt, then rested his head in his hands and closed his eyes.
There was so much he wanted to do for Christine, so desperately he wanted to become what she deserved – and yet, all she ever asked was for him to simply be with her. Singing, sleeping, talking. Such simple things he had not even realized he was denying her.
Did she really mean it when she said it would be over if he left?
No, he would not allow it. She was his and he would do what he had to keep it that way. Christine was the only normal thing in his life
But he still needed answers. He still needed to know if a normal life was even possible. Were there other executioners? And if so, were they like him - cold and emotionless when it came to the killing of others, yet passionate and intense when it came to their devotion to those they loved.
Erik suddenly froze as he felt a warm softness pressed against his scarred back, two slender arms wrapping around him.
"You kept your promise…" Christine spoke softly as she hugged him, then leaned forward to brush soft lips against his cheek. "I'm so glad…"
Erik reached behind him and slid his fingers through her soft hair. "I did promise," he replied, "Come now… sleep."
She nodded and the two of them made their way beneath the blankets to curl up together and sleep soundly.
The next morning
Erik woke up and reached out to find the bed empty beside him. He quickly sat up, "Christine!" He glanced around worriedly, then noticed the note left on Christine's pillow:
Erik,
For the first time, I'M disappearing on YOU.
I have good reason though - an early rehearsal this morning. I'm sure you'll be lurking around the theater like a good opera ghost, ready to carry the new diva away to his underground lair.
Well, maybe not, but you know what today is.
Love,
C.
The note was finished off with a smudge of cherry lip gloss – a kiss.
He wasn't sure what Christine had meant in her last line. It was not her birthday, nor his… so what then? He would find out tonight – though perhaps it would be better to spend time elsewhere to prevent disturbing Little Giry.
Perhaps her joke wasn't so far from the truth after all.
Giry's Apartment – that afternoon
Giry looked at the faxes before her. She had called on a few favours from some friends in Leroux's office, and this was the result - a run-down of the Guild's previous executioners.
No, she thought as she rifled through the papers desperately. Beside each name, there was a reason for termination.
It filled her with worry. Each and every one of them had fallen upon the same fate.
Impossible! Giry thought. This cannot be. Surely there must have been one… one who did not end up this way.
She read though the last page only to find the final name blacked out. Whoever it was had been the very first executioner. The reason for termination, however, left her cold: Too dangerous.
Giry shook her head. There were too many questions and not enough answers. She didn't like it.
In sixteen years, Anotinette Giry had grown fond of Erik. She did not want him to end up like the rest. She did not want him caged.
She would have to show Erik this information as soon as possible. Perhaps he could find these poor souls and figure out what had really happened to them. It would take much time and effort as there was little to no information on the previous executioners, or even if they were still alive.
Giry had faith, however. If anyone could find out the darkness that drove these men to become what they had become, it would be Erik. And perhaps once he had his answers, he could break the cycle and put all his energy into Christine.
She only hoped it was not already too late.
END OF EPISODE 54