Author´s notes: Meg gets some action this time, people! Christine is off to kick more Fop butt! Title refers to PonR.
P.S. Nota Lone – Erik scores bigtime in this one!
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Chapter 17 – Notes 2 or how to cross bridges
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Meg was happy.
Only hours after their last meeting, Christine pulled her into a broom shed – there, she reasoned, even Erik wouldn't think of putting a trapdoor - to discuss tactics for PonR. The night of the premiere was nearing itself and both of them knew well that the "story" was coming to an end – sadly, because it was much fun for both of them.
And, besides that, Christine had fulfilled her promise – she nicked two completely ordinary pistols from the de Chagny estate and the sharpest knife from their kitchen she could find.
"I´m no good with firearms, since I don't like them much." Christine had said, handing Meg the guns. "And you´ll be in a better position to shoot someone. Besides, I won´t have the time to aim and everyone will be watching me. And it´s easier to hide a dagger." She added, thinking of her Aminta costume.
She had left half an hour ago to see if Erik decided it was… "safe" to talk to her again and left Meg to practice her ballet. Thus far, only La Sorelli matched her skills, partially because Meg was a perfectionist, partially because she had skills from her previous "incarnation", but mostly because Meg was a fan-… well, phanatic when it came to Don Juan.
Practicing her pirouettes, she stumbled and almost hit a wall when she heard someone calling her name quietly, particularly when she noticed that particular someone in the doorway. "Meg?" Leroux asked again, with an expression of anxiety that made Meg glad she was standing in a ballet pose and thus she would probably hurt herself if she would try to tackle him.
Instead of doing so, she lowered herself to her normal height and, blinking a bit, she managed a surprised face. "Gaston?" she really disliked the name. She would really have to ask him if she could call him Sebastian later on… now that was a name that was ideal. "What are you doing here?"
Truth to be told, Meg would prefer if he would really be "doing something". Their "relationship" seemed to be stagnating… at least, compared to the rapidly evolving EC relationship she was witnessing.
He slowly stepped into the room, making Meg want to scream with rage. She was getting tired of this. Unlike the rest of the current world, she wasn't much for this 19th century courting waiting for the guy to tell you they love you stuff… it felt like a major restriction and that equaled as bad.
"I just never got to wish you good luck with your rehearsals." he noted. And it was the truth. Still, he seemed to be too concerned with the fact she might stalk off again if he said something wrong.
Meg exhaled. "Look, I know I probably overreacted a bit… but…" she sighed. How to say this in a proper 19th century way? Hmm… "Sometimes… I get the thought that…" Come on, come on, think!
"That what, Meg?" Leroux encouraged her.
Ah-HA! Got it! "That you were simply bored and thought that a ballerina like me…"
"Don't even think that, Meg." Leroux interrupted her quickly, with a serious expression on his face. Walking up towards her (Meg was celebrating inwardly) he took both of her hands and squeezed them tightly. "Never assume that you were a pastime or a means of getting information."
Meg attempted to conceal her eager victorious grin with a pleased and sincere smile, but apparently, Leroux either couldn't tell the difference or was satisfied with any good reaction he got, since he didn't ask what was happening and smiled pleasantly as well.
"Well, that is a load off my mind." Meg breathed, and, to encourage some more "action" she quickly kissed him on the cheek, seizing her chance. "You are officially forgiven."
It was a gamble, but it paid off. Surprise quickly vanished from his face and he really took it as a signal that he was free to kiss her – which he did, naturally… and thus Meg´s mind was full of celebrations and only one word described her mood: YAY! To avoid mushy lovey-dovey descriptions, let us say that all the soap opera kissing scenes paled in comparison… at least, from Meg´s point of view.
When it was over, Meg thought she was going to faint. Sure, she had had various fantasies about kissing Jason Isaacs (and more), but the real thing was way beyond that. She didn't really know if she would be able to say anything – or, at least, anything that made sense, anyway.
"Thank you." She heard him say, but didn't reply… not verbally. Instead, she kissed him this time, leaving the ballet to her insides.
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Christine wasn't happy.
Ever since that day in the lair, nothing had happened… for almost a whole day! It was torturous, really. She didn't know if she could return down there, or if she should just play the ingénue, as Meg suggested, or ignore everything. She herself had been a bit shaken, but once away from the candles, the bed and Erik, she had regained her sanity. Still, it was a close one.
She came to her dressing room, more to check if Erik was going to talk to her now than anything else, but while she was there, she wanted to see if her costume was ready yet. The Aminta costume was something she was looking forward to. At last, the exposure of cleavage would have a purpose. Anyway, she wanted to see the infamous "sleeves" for herself.
Walking in, she didn't see anything out of the ordinary. Even after closing the door, no ethereal, booming, sexy voice sounded through her dressing room. Sighing a bit, she checked her costume. It was still missing a bit of the skirt, but she knew she would have to try it on later. Nothing strange.
Only when she glanced at the vanity table did she notice something more interesting. A red rose with a black ribbon tied to it… and, underneath it, a neatly folded note, clearly written in red ink which she could see even now.
Christine frowned. Since when did Erik send her notes? Was he too shy to simply talk to her? Well… she would probably be. Goodness only knew what talking about things like that with him would do to her. Since he probably viewed her as gorgeous as she viewed him, though, she came to the conclusion that he thought this would be better.
Putting the rose aside, she unfolded the note and read the message.
Dearest Christine,
I apologize immensely for the incident earlier today – it was not your fault, so do not worry about anything. You were as stunning as ever, my dear, and I am most pleased with your progress thus far. Adding emotion into your singing has really made you the actress as well.
If you wish, we may continue tomorrow as usual – the finale of the second act. A word of advice – dress comfortably, or loosen up the corset, if you feel it is necessary to wear it. It restricts your breathing, and you truly have no need to make yourself appear slimmer through such drastic means.
Again, my deepest apologies for sending you away so rashly. Please leave me a note here, I shall collect it later on. You are hereby ordered to relax and gather your strength. You shall need it.
Your friend
Erik
Christine began to smile as she read the letter. She could see the moment where he had hesitated, unsure whether to write "Love" or "Sincerely yours" or anything like that… she almost laughed. He had nothing to apologize for – she should have apologized for pushing him so far. Then she noticed there was a P.S.
P.S. I would talk to your Vicomte friend about his latest plan to capture me. You are bound to be amused.
It was then that Christine remembered. The idiot was going to do that big "We have all been blind" scene!
Grr…
Amused nevertheless, she quickly scribbled the reply, put it on the table, sniffed the rose for a moment and a minute later, she left her head in the clouds, her feet on the way to find Raoul, her mind searching for words to yell at him.
The reply, as Erik saw approximately two minutes later, after being certain she wasn't returning – he truly watched her wherever she went, with the exception of broom closets – read:
Dear Erik,
I am not angry with you in the least. I was simply afraid you might be angry with me… nevertheless, moving on, I shall try to follow those instructions – the flattery certainly didn't help, since I obey nonetheless, but it managed to make me smile.
I shall prepare myself for the lesson – I want to live up to your expectations when I sing. About the dress – I shall try. After all, the corset isn't comfortable and I am not going to a fashion show or something. I will do my best to find something suitable.
As usual, you are the ever-helpful Angel of Music. And yes, I smile as I write this… if you do not see me anyway, that is. Thank you again.
Yours
Christine
P.S.
I hereby make it my business to castrate Monsieur le Vicomte.
