A/N: Well hello again! My Muse seems to want to co-operate lately, so here we have the next chapter.
Cloud in Crimson: Thanks for your suggestions! Some of them went along with what I was thinking already, but it's because of you that I did this chapter, in Erik's POV when Christine returns from Paris. Hope you enjoy :)
Big hugs n thanks to: Cloud in Crimson, aries-chica56, Blue Eyes at Night, erik'sangel572, Senna Wales, neo-lover72, MenacerPhan Butterfly of Lothlorien for your lovely and inspiring reviews!
Senna Wales: I'm glad you thought that last chapter was a strong chapter, I was worried about it!
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Who would have thought that two short days without my Christine could be so painful?
I chuckled humourlessly at the thought as I sat at the organ, staring down at the ivory keys. There had been a time I had thought Christine was gone forever. Now, after spending eighteen years with her as my wife, two short days without her felt like a lifetime.
I missed Bethie, too of course. I was so proud of her, despite my fears of her singing at the Paris Opera house. I knew all too well that I was playing with fire, sending Christine and Bethie there. I was playing with fire allowing my daughter to live there, in the Phantom's domain.
But I could not lock my daughter in her room and expect her not to live, simply because of the things I had done in my past. If the truth came out, so be it. But I was praying that the past would stay where it belonged, and that Bethie would have the chance to be all that I knew she could be.
The Paris Opera House, despite those years being haunted by the Opera Ghost, had managed to keep its reputation as one of the most prestigious Opera Houses in all of France. I had kept track of my Opera House over the years. Charles kept me informed of what was going on there.
After the Don Juan Triumphant debacle, the Opera House closed for almost a year. There were rumours that the police had conducted a raid to find the 'madman' that lived beneath the opera. Rumour also had it that they had been unsuccessful in their attempt. For quite some time people were afraid to be on the streets of Paris for fear they would encounter the 'monster'.
Messer's Andre and Firmin had sold the Opera House, and the new manager had worked hard to build the Opera House's reputation, to scourge any rumours of an Opera Ghost.
As the years passed, my interest in the Opera had dwindled somewhat with the birth of Bethie, and the changes that children brought to Christine's and my life. As long as the Opera remained in business, I was content.
Of course, I had not planned on Bethie going to the Opera House. I had known from the start that she was incredibly talented. Her voice rivalled Christine's for clarity and absolute perfect pitch. I had also known that Bethie would make a wonderful Prima Donna. She craved attention, loved being in the spotlight.
But I had never imagined that she would end up at the Paris. I smiled wryly as I thought about the irony of fate. Her teacher had innocently tried to further Beth's career by writing to the management of the Paris Opera. But that single act could possibly destroy my family, turn my children against me.
I sighed and stood. I could not keep my mind on my music, which was quite odd, as music had always been my only escape.
xxx
By the day of Christine's return, I was so nervous I feared her return almost as much as I longed for it. I was at once excited to know what Beth had thought of the Opera House and at the same time I was terrified of what could have happened while they were in Paris.
Christine had never been back, in all the years that we had been married, not even to see her father's grave. I felt guilty, but she had always been firm when she told me that it did not matter, that her life was with me now.
I knew the Opera House was under new management. Perhaps four years back a Monsieur D'Aubigne had taken over the management. I did not know who owned it; the transaction had been done privately, with an anonymous purchaser. Charles had tried to find out, but had been unable to.
I did not know if anyone still remained from when I had been the Opera Ghost. It seemed unlikely. The performers would all be too old; Monsieur Reyer had left after Don Juan. Madame Giry had been replaced by a Madame Marchand several years back.
I told myself again and again that I was worrying for nothing. Christine would return, Bethie would perform. Everything would be fine.
But I could not silence the voice in the back of my mind that could not help but wonder if the Comte de Chagney, Raoul, was still a patron of the Opera House.
I cursed my thoughts, but I could not stop myself from wondering what would happen if Christine and Raoul were to meet again.
xxx
"Papa, Papa! She is home!" Stephan called from where he stood, peering out the front window. He rushed outside to greet Christine's carriage, as I felt a rush of relief that she was home safely.
I stood inside the doorway, watching as Christine gave Stephan a hug. She was smiling, but even from a distance I could see something in her eyes.
If I was not mistaken, it looked like Christine was quite anxious.
I felt my stomach clench in fear, wondering what was wrong.
Christine paid the carriage driver, then walked inside, followed by Stephan, who was carrying her bags.
"Erik!" she said when she saw me, standing just inside the front door.
Stephan went past me to take Christine's bags upstairs. I looked at Christine, my face expressionless, waiting.
"Oh, Erik, I missed you so much!" she said. Either she did not see my worry, or she chose not to acknowledge it. Instead she just threw her arms around me, kissing my lips, my face.
I wrapped my arms around her, relishing the feel of her in my arms. She buried her face in my shoulder and I sighed, nuzzling my face into her chestnut curls, streaked with just a touch of grey.
Just then Stephan returned, eager to hear about Beth and Christine's trip.
Christine told Stephan of the Opera House, the Manager, M. D'Aubigne and M. Deniaud. She told him of showing Beth her old dressing room. I gave Christine a pointed look, which she ignored.
Then she told us that Beth had been given one of the larger parts in the Opera House's new production of Tristan and Isolde. Stephan was thrilled and I felt the warm glow of pride as I thought of my daughter securing such an important part on her first performance. After satisfying Stephan's curiosity she sent him off to bed. He kissed her cheek before going upstairs.
I sensed that Christine had told only part of the story, and said as much to her.
"I have some…things to tell you. Perhaps we should go downstairs."
My heart skipped. I was right, something had happened. But what?
We went downstairs to the music room and sat on the small couch.
"Erik..." she said softly. There was a far away look in her eyes as she gazed into space. "It was so…odd. Being there again, after all of these years. It was as if I had never left, Erik. I kept expecting to hear your voice."
I looked at her, watching as she smiled wistfully. "I showed her my dressing room. I looked in the mirror and I could not help but remember the first time I saw you, looking at me from the depths of the mirror."
I shifted uneasily. I was not proud of my actions when I first knew Christine. Deceiving her into thinking she was being visited by her fathers' Angel of Music. Lying to her, seducing and controlling her with my voice. While she looked nostalgic, I was getting irritated.
"It has not changed at all. It is just as magnificent as ever. Beth was enchanted at first sight. We ate at one of the small café's near the Opera House and I met the chorus master, M. Deniaud. He is quite handsome and charming."
I waited patiently for Christine to get around to whatever was bothering her. I did not think that her wistful reminisces or the new chorus master was causing the undercurrent of fear in her eyes.
She sighed heavily and after a brief pause, she looked up. "Erik," she said quietly. "Although I did not meet her, M. D'Aubigne told me of the lead soprano."
There was another pause, while I tried to figure out where Christine was going with this.
"Her name…her name is Maria Guidicelli. She is La Carlotta's younger sister," she said finally.
There was a dull roaring in my ears as I stared at Christine, dumbfounded. "No," I said softly.
Christine nodded, looking unhappy. "There was a picture in the dressing room, of Maria and Carlotta. Carlotta lives in Italy now, but her sister is the lead soprano. She is much younger than Carlotta, she looks to be perhaps twenty-five."
I shook my head. Not only did my past refuse to remain buried, it seemed intent on hunting me down and dragging me down with it.
"I-I did not know what to do, Erik," Christine said, her eyes filling with tears. "I did not know whether to bring her home…"
"No," I said shortly. "I will not do that to her."
"But if she finds out…"
"If she finds out, then the fates will have made it so and there would not be anything I could do about it."
A tear trickled down Christine's cheek as she looked at me helplessly. "Erik, perhaps we should have told her. Perhaps we should have just been honest with her."
"NO!" I roared, jumping to my feet. I clenched my hands into fists as I stared down at Christine. "What exactly do you think I should tell her? What would you tell her? Beth, your father lived beneath the Opera House terrorizing the performers, extorting money from the management. They called him the Opera Ghost. He was the cause of several deaths, he seduced me, lied to me, and threatened me. And that does not even go into my life before the Opera House. Do you actually expect to tell a child that and expect that she will understand? Damn it, Christine, even I do not understand, how could I possibly expect her to?"
Christine was crying, tears streaming down her pale cheeks as I ranted and raved, shouting out my frustration. "But would it not be better for her to hear it from us than to hear it from someone at the Opera House?" she asked softly.
Christine's words made sense, of course, but the stubborn and terrified part of me could not admit it.
I sighed and felt my shoulders droop. "If she hears it from you or me she will have no choice but to believe it," I said, my voice shaking.
"Oh, Erik," Christine whispered, standing and wrapping her arms around me.
I felt an overwhelming rush of love for my wife, and helplessness at the situation as I cried silently into her soft curls.
It seemed no matter what I did, I was damned. The truth could destroy everything that I had worked the last eighteen years building.
And yet, I knew all too well the consequences of lies…
((dum dum dum! Hehe. Well, what did you think? Please review and let me know! Thank you!))