Author's notes: This has been written all by myself, since Enrinye is on vacation. I hope you like it. ENTER ERIK!
Anyway, short review responses:
lady kathrin – this is my favorite part of the movie… here you go!
angel718– heh, doesn't everyone want to be me in this story? (wink) Thanks and read on!
kumikoblue– which one? I'll have to watch the movie again – Enrinye asked me to find her a hottie to romance… so I'll try. Thanks and read on!
Nota Lone – Merci, merci. I like Leroux Phantom, but Kay Erik… (dreamy eyes) my kind of guy!
PersonageoftheUnderverse – heh, don't worry, here is the chapter. Yes, a fish indeed!
X X X
Chapter 5 – Returning from the BatcaveX X X
The next morning, Christine stepped out of the mirror trap door with nothing short of a dreamy expression on her face. The opening shut itself behind her almost soundlessly, and, after a little procedure to secure that no one would be watching, she immediately collapsed into the nearest chair. What a night! She had truly outdone herself! And… and… everything she saw! It was almost too good to be true…
It took Meg about fifteen seconds to burst through the door with an eager squeal at the sight of her friend, who almost ignored her. Judging by the "I'm-so-in-love-with-the-cape-twirling" look in her eyes, the first part of their "Mission: Impossible" had been successful and she didn't end up being thrown out of the lair right after being told she could never be free. Meg dropped herself into another chair nearby and immediately assaulted the other girl with questions.
They were mostly the usual things any phangirl would ask: How was it? What did he look like? Was the lair cool? And, naturally: Is the cape twirling even sexier live? After three seconds, Christine lost track of what her friend was asking. She was still a bit dazed, but recovering.
"Meg! Meg! AMY!" she shouted when all else failed. Meg fell silent at once – each of them still had some problems with reacting to the new names, but Christine was positive that this had been done on purpose. "I can't understand a word you're saying, hon."
"How bout we shorten the interview?" Meg suggested, still fighting a grin, "Tell me EVERYTHING. You're such a good storyteller." She added when Christine raised an eyebrow. Last time, she had been the one who bought Harry Potter VI first and thus had to retell the important events to her friend in one afternoon.
Christine sighed and leaned back on her chair, smiling distantly. Meg was positive that this was a good sign. "Alright, where do I start?"
"How bout at the beginning?" Meg noted sarcastically.
"I hate you."
"I know. Now speak!"
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Christine had no idea how she was suddenly on the other side of the mirror trap door. The only things she was aware of were that: 1. it was him, 2. he was holding her hand and guiding her down the corridor and 3. man, was he hot. Now she wasn't really even thinking of singing. Somehow, it would seem that in the deep state of shock, she understood the entire essence of staring at a person like they had just revealed themselves to be an alien.
Positively sure that her legs were functioning on their own accord, she followed without question. Everything fitted. The horse was there… and the boat. Vaguely, she remembered the traditional phangirl motto: Save the gondola, ride the Phantom! She almost laughed then and there. Well, she would try very, very hard to save the poor gondola.
Now that he was behind her and she couldn't see him without turning around, she could think more clearly. It was almost like Venice, but she was aware that the lake was part of the Seine. Quietly, she began singing the end coloratura to herself. She had never managed to get that part right…
"Sing, my Angel of Music!"
Christine blinked and her eyes widened at the same time. Okay, this was bad. Well, she could at least try. So she opened her mouth and began singing the notes… and they actually sounded good. She tried the same tune, half a tone higher… not bad…
"Sing for me!"
Well, there was no one else there… who else would she be singing for? So she sang and sang, getting the tones as high as she could. Meanwhile, the lair came into view, and Christine smiled while singing. Waterproof candles, Persian rugs, golden-framed mirrors that were covered with hand-made blankets. Yep, she was in the right story.
Finally, she hit the highest note precisely when she felt the boat touch the shore. She saw him jump out of the boat with an ease she would never be able to manage. Looking down, she saw just how much of her legs was revealed. Not that she cared right now. Wait… she would find out if the stockings vanish and how!
And then it began.
This had always been her favorite part of the story, but seeing it from this point of view was something completely different. It was fortunate that she wasn't a person to faint often, because she felt herself shaking slightly when being guided around the main "room" of the lair. Everything was lit by candles, all the furniture seemed to be hand-made. She saw high quality drawings of buildings, statues, arches… drawings of her. Then she felt a hand on her cheek that turned her face and her attention back to her host.
Music of the Night had always been her favorite song, but this was something different entirely. The lyrics, the melody, all of that was the same, but the atmosphere… and his voice! Now she really understood what Andrew Lloyd Weber meant by "a strange sweet sound making her spirit want to soar" and Leroux wanted the voice "hard as thunder or soft as angel's voices, at will" to sound. She was positive she had never heard anything like it.
She had no idea, however, how someone so… so… gorgeous…could think themselves ugly. Maybe she was exaggerating, but her teenage hormones were positive that the words she had used in her signature on one of the forums were positively accurate: "What Phantom? I'm talking about the sexgod who lives in the basement!" In short, she thanked J.S. and A.L.W. for their choice of casting a zillion times over the next few minutes. The phangirl in her was having a party.
She was smiling like an idiot, she knew… but she didn't care. He was smiling back at her, leading her away from the organ, to show her something else. When she saw the mannequin, she really almost fainted. It was just too perfect. She had seen her reflection in the mirror over the span of the last few days, true, but this seemed far too beautiful to be her, even as Christine.
Don't forget to faint! Meg´s voice repeated in her head. A second later, she tried to do it authentically… and succeeded. Too bad she had to play innocent fainted ingénue, became being carried around gently and laid on the beautiful bed she saw when she opened her eyes very slightly made her want to stop him from leaving. She remembered herself, however. Barely.
You alone can make my song take flight…
Help me make the music of the night…
Luckily, she knew how to pretend to be asleep. She had used the trick many times. Deep breaths, not too hasty. Relax. Relax completely. (It was proving hard when she could really feel his breath on her skin.) And then the curtain fell and he retreated. Christine opened her eyes slightly. Moments later, soft organ music reached her. She smiled broadly. Now she had to wait for her cue – the monkey music box.
She spotted it at once. How could Meg think it ugly and creepy? she thought. She liked it. Looking down at her legs, she frowned. Stockings were still there. Darn. Well, might as well remove them, to follow the script thoroughly. Thus, she pulled them off quietly and left them on the bed. As soon as she was done, the music box began playing. Turning sharply to look at it, Christine smiled. Yep, it was time.
Straightening up her dress and running a hand through her hair to make sure she looked alright, she put on a mildly curious, mildly surprised face and walked out of her room, observing the lair again. It was wonderful… she looked at things in the correct order. Mist… lake… candles… boat… man…
She smiled slightly when he turned to look at her, and with an unusual timidity, turned away clearly expecting her to react badly.
Under no circumstances de-mask him! Conversation, small talk. Maybe cry a bit that he tricked you (not that that was hard), but BE NICE!
Christine nodded to herself very slightly and approached. Still, wouldn't it be better to get it over now, rather than get screamed at later? No… no, it wouldn't be better. No, the screaming meant getting thrown out of the lair. Bad idea. She was here to change the plotline, not to follow it and end up being Viscomtesse de Foppy.
Instead of following the plotline and ignoring Meg´s advice, she stopped on his left and slowly placed a hand on his shoulder, glancing at the music for a moment, then at him. She nearly avoided a smirk. He was so cute when he didn't know what to do.
"I apologize for disturbing your composing." she said, in what she hoped was a nice tone with no echo of the laughter that sounded in her head, "May I… join you?"
"If… if you wish it… Christine." Removing a stack of music sheets from the nearest chair and placing it elsewhere, he motioned to her to sit down, but still seemed bewildered that she hadn't started crying, screaming, or both at the same time.
Christine mumbled a thanks, feeling really ridiculous, because this was the part of the task where it was up to her to improvise… she had formed a plan of some sorts while removing her stockings, but putting it into action was far harder.
Smiling (hopefully) shyly, she pretended to glance around in amazement, absorbing the details of the environment she had missed, but still acutely aware that his eyes never left her face. Returning her gaze to him, she looked down at her feet – it seemed far more timid to do that.
"Might I ask why le Fantôme de L'Opera would want to waste his time tutoring a ballet rat?"
"Because the aforementioned 'ballet rat' deserves to be much more than a member of the corpse de ballet, with her kind of talent. I believe 'Hannibal' proved that to everyone." He said softly, still seemingly uneasy, even more so when Christine looked up.
Christine then glanced around at the music sheets and smiled again, more widely this time. "So the Angel of Music truly exists, then. Perhaps not in the way I imagined, but…" she motioned at the music sheets, "but his music is still divine."
She caught the… something… that passed through his eyes and the fact that he didn't deny it in any way. "I am… not angry, if you believe that. It is just… strange to me. All this is a completely new world. One of… music?"
"Then it is where you belong, is it not?" he inquired, clearly pleased when she nodded.
"Might I ask you something, given that I am in the worse position here? You obviously know far more of me than I know of you." Christine hoped that it would work, but asked the obvious question quickly, not wanting to take any chances. "Why do you live here, beneath the Opera House, why are you the Phantom? With a voice like yours, with so much talent…" she trailed off, but knew he would understand what she meant.
With a deep sigh, he stood up from the organ and paced around a bit, clearly debating with himself what to say. Christine decided to give it one last push… then she would stop. "Is it because of the mask, Monsieur?" she asked quietly. The fact he seemed to almost cringe when she mentioned it was confirmation enough. "I am sorry, it was not my intention to hurt you."
"Not yet." She thought she heard him whisper. Then, he sighed. "Do not ask about the mask, Christine. Someday, perhaps… but not now…" If that didn't translate as 'after our wedding', then she was the Queen of England.
Nevertheless, she nodded, feeling that he would be able to sense it, even though he had his back turned to her. "Very well, I shall not ask. I have only one more thing to ask… might I know your name, Monsieur? I would not wish to refer to you as le Fantôme… and even angels have names, don't they?"
Somehow, it seemed as if he was remembering something very distant, before he bowed his head slightly and almost inaudibly, he said: "Erik. You may call me Erik." Christine smiled. Now, that wasn't so hard. "Come, we must return." He turned back to her, with a twisted smirk. "Those two fools who run my theater will be missing you."
"Let them." Christine said with a shrug. It seemed to surprise him greatly... and not unpleasantly, but still he shook his head.
"Divas don´t disappear after their triumph, Christine. You must return before they think something has happened to you, or they will search for you." Not having thought of that, Christine agreed.
Repeating the journey through the underground labyrinth, Erik let go of her hand only when they were standing behind the mirror. "Will the lessons continue normally or shall I come down to your home?" Christine couldn't help but inquire.
It was as if he was taken aback that she even wanted to continue after this revelation. "If you wish it, Christine." he said quietly, "Whenever you need me, just call for me… I will be there." She could easily see him wondering if he should do it, the moment before he took her hand once more and brought it to his lips, almost not touching it. "Au revoir, Mademoiselle."
"Seulement pour maintenant." Christine noted with a smile, and, not wanting to waste her chance, she seized the moment of surprise and quickly and briefly kissed his unmasked cheek. Then, she almost bounced through the mirror, which she managed to open herself. Once it closed behind her, she turned again and smiled, then walked out of the room… only to stop behind the door to catch her breath. She then reentered and sat down.
She knew what effect her words would have – she could only imagine the wonderfully hopeful look on his face. Yes, goodbye… but only for now.
Fifteen minutes later, Meg squealed: "You did it!" and high-fived her friend.
