A/N: Yeah, I haven't updated for a bit...I had some unpleasantness to deal with. But, now I'm writing and hoping you'll enjoy. I took it down a notch with the last chapter, and hopefully this one will make you understand WHY Raoul had that little conversation.
Thank you for all of your wonderful reviews! I am really happy you all take the time to leave me a li'l note!
Disclaimer: Own nothing, want Erik's soul...sigh
Erik had played for her long into the night. He knew, without even opening his eyes, that Christine had fallen asleep. Why, he wondered as he watched her, had he played so long? Had he done so purposefully? Even when she'd clearly said she'd was still sore? As she settled into his arms, he wondered if it mattered. Gently tucked into his arms, Erik proceeded to take her to her bed. He even pulled the flower gently from her hair, and set it to rest by her cheek. She sighed from the depths of her soul, and he had to smile.
With Christine safely sound asleep, Erik went back to the packages. First, the bath supplies, which he arranged in her bath. Once that was done, he set about making this room truly Christine's...with curios, new and crisp linen, and...
This. He pulled out the adorned box and set it on her nightstand. Again, he was not sure if anything he could do would make her love him in return, but he was bound to her, in gratitude if not by his desire for her. Satisfied with his handywork, he waited for morning like a child awaiting Christmas morning.
Mrs. Giry bounced Madeleine gently on her lap. Now in her waddling age, the babe didn't much appreciate her crib anymore, making nighttime that much more difficult. Nadir had woken up with her this time, and was warming up a bottle as she attempted to relax the child. She sat and rocked her baby, stiffling a yawn. She looked at the squirming bundle in her arms. Don't become accustomed to this, Madeleine. Even Meg outgrew this eventually.
"Don't look so stern in front of the baby," Nadir chided, handing her the bottle. "She's not one of your ballet pupils, you know." He chuckled and patted his daughter's legs. Madeleine gave an enthusiastic kick at the sudden action. "Look, she has your legs. She could be a Prima Ballerina, Antoinette. You, of all people, shouldn't want to stifle that."
"Yes, well, as a teacher I wouldn't dream of it. As her mother at three o'clock in the morning...that's another matter entirely." After testing the bottle on her wrist, she guided it into Madeleine's mouth. Immediately she quieted and drank, allowing Mrs. Giry a sense of relaxation. Nadir sat on the carpet and watched them quietly and noticing his mood, Mrs. Giry looked to him. "What is it, dear?"
"Do you think, perhaps, he ever had something like this? Late nights with his mother and father?" Nadir's voice was quiet, contemplative. She frowned.
"It's impolite to ask questions you already know the answers to." Madeleine gurgled in her arms, and Mrs. Giry cooed at her. Nadir found himself smiling sadly, but stood to get behind his family. He patted his daughter's cheek with two fingers, and rested his head against his wife's. Then, he decided, I have to have many nights like this with my family.
"Let's sing her a lullabye," he murmured, taking one tiny hand in his. Let's sing to her until we all fall asleep.
"Christine!" A little boy yelled out in to the trees. He ran behind one, and looked around him. A little girl's giggle was heard behind a bush.
Christine saw the boy tiptoe, then pounce on the bush. The little girl squealed. I remember...
"You found me!" She cried as she hugged him happily. She pouted softly. "But why did you have to? Now father will make me practice the violin..."
"Let's go practice together, then." The boy broke the hug and took her hand, half-dragging her into the house. "Come on, it'll be fun!"
"Raoul, you big showoff!" She giggled and soon gave up any struggle.
She wanted to follow, but her feet seemed glued to the spot. The children looked so happy, heading into a warmly lit home where her mother and father were waiting. I want to see them...
"Christine, don't leave me." Something in the dark behind her called out. Who? She turned her head and peered into the shadows.
"Who's there?"
"You promised, so stay." She could see the outline of a body moving closer. Then, that pale face.
"Erik?" She wanted to walk to him, but again her feet would not obey. Instead, she stretched out her arms to him. "No, I'm not leaving." As he came to her, rising out of the darkness and into the light, she smiled. "See? I'm right here." He took her into his arms and held her tightly. This is where I need to be...
The chime of a very special alarm woke her. Slowly Christine's eyes opened, and she shifted in her bed. I must have fallen asleep in the den again. Wait! What-
The sound music had woken her up, coming from a music box. She turned her head to the sound, and saw the peculiar piece. A rectangular, gilt box with a little monkey sitting atop it, playing its cymbals. She sat up and looked at it. Such an odd box, with such a sweet melody. Her hand reached out, and once it settled on the monkey's head, the music stopped. An alarm? With a little yawn she stretched her arms out, feeling much better after a full night's sleep. When her hand set itself on the bedspread, she felt something soft and velvety. The rose, she thought to herself. Even after a night without water, it hadn't begun to wilt.
Then she saw the rest of the room, and wondered where she was for a moment. The same furniture remained, but with a few new additions it was more feminine. On the chair next to her bed were soft rose-colored linens, on her vanity a bowl of potpouri. The closet was open, and some new bags of what she assumed were clothes waited for her. She was surprised only a moment longer, then let out a small chuckle.
Christine swung her feet over the edge of the bed, and slipped into the new slippers. She picked up the new hairbrush and smoothed out her hair before tying it back with her pink ribbon.Satisfied, she walked out to the kitchen. Sure enough, Erik was reading the paper at the table, breakfast already prepared and waiting. At the sound of her approach, he'd looked up.
"So the music box works," He remarked, sounding pleased with himself. Christine nodded and sat across from him, and set the flower in a glass of water.
"Yes, it's wonderful. You didn't have to buy it for me, though." She frowned only slightly. "You might end up spoiling me, and then you'd regret having me around at all," she joked.
"Never going to happen." His response took her by surprise. He'd said it without even looking at her, and had calmly sipped his tea afterwards. She must have looked a little flustered when he did raise his eyes to her, because he motioned to her tea. "It's going to get cold."
"Oh!" She clumsily raised her hand and took up the cup. "Thank you." What an odd thing to get all bothered about, she reprimanded herself. We've grown closer, so why shouldn't he feel a little more comfortable with me? "But still, that music box must have been very expensive, Erik. I don't want you to feel it's necessary for me to-"
"I didn't buy it." He took another sip. "I made it, many years ago."
"You made it?" The surprise in her voice couldn't be contained. Apologetically she raised a hand to her mouth. "I'm sorry, it's just- it's such a wonderful melody, and it's so detailed. How old were you?"
"Ten, I think."
More surprise registered on her face. "Ten? When I was ten, I was thinking up new ways to get out of dance practice." She smiled at the memory.
"I had more time to develop my talents on my own." He set the teacup a little hard, and said no more. Christine watched him carefully, hoping he'd reveal more. That's right, he was taught at home...
"And the tune?" She inquired. "I've never heard it before."
"I wrote it." He wanted to drop the subject. That song, written in such lonely and desperate hours, wasn't as merry a sound to him now.
"Are you sure I can have it?" He looked to her as she said this, and set the paper aside. "If it's something you made, you must treasure it."
"I gave you my musicbecause I want you to have it. Iwant you to hear themusic that I write, Christine." Such a simple, blunt fact brought a flush to her face, when she remembered those lines. He sang those same words.. What could she say to that?
"But it's something so valuable, Erik. I feel...well, I have nothing to give you in return."
Your love, he thought to himself. But no, that was not something to be taken from her so cheaply. "Why do you need to give me anything in return?"
Christine paused at his question. "Well, because...I wouldn't feel right about it." She didn't want to seem ungrateful, but she couldn't freely take something so precious. He'd already given her so many things, after all.
"Well, we'll figure out some method of payment later," he decided. "Right now, you should finish your tea. Then we'll have a look at you before I go to class." When he saw her somewhat relieved, he poured himself a second cup and waited for her to finish breakfast. He didn't notice that she raised a hand to her throat in worry. If it looked as bad as she felt it was...
As much as he'd enjoyed singing to Madeleine, Nadir felt the effects of it as he sat at his desk looking over some papers. He became drowsy, and had to support his head with a hand. I'm getting too old for long nights, I suppose. But the heartwarming moment he'd seen had been worth it. Both mother and child sleeping quietly in the old rocking chair. Madeleine was still cradled, but Antoinette's head lolled to one side, and her normal bun had become undone, letting her honey-colored hair flow. Had he been an artist, Nadir would have found the image very inspiring. Instead he was a husband and recent father, and as such felt pride.
It was at this time that there was a knock at the door. It woke him up and he cleared his throat and stood straight in his chair. "Come in." Someone very unexpected entered, and he rubbed his head. A headache was sure to follow. "Look, I've already told you- I'm really too busy to-"
"It's all right." He raised his hands in defeat at the detective. "I'm not here to bother you about it anymore. I wanted to let you know to drop it."
"Really?" Nadir was taken aback. Had his infatuation with the girl cooled so suddenly?
"Yes, she actually has been in Europe." He shrugged.
"Oh, I see." Somehow, Nadir didn't feel reassured. He knew the story Erik had concocted, it was pretty tight...so why did it bother him that Raoul finally believed?
"I guess I was just hoping she wasn't." Raoul sighed. "I'm just very sorry to have wasted your time."
"No, no trouble at all." His answer was automatic as Raoul reached over and took his hand. Something's not right here...
As Raoul nodded his head to the detective and opened the door, Nadir called out to him. "By the way, how did you find out she was really in Europe?"
Raoul turned, and smiled sheepishly. "Christine told me so herself."
Once Erik had gone to fetch the kit, Christine had turned to her vanity. Carefully she peeled off the bandage. She bit her lip at what she saw. The red line the wire had made was raw and the skin swollen. Around it was another band, this one black and blue. With a little rough motion, it would be easy to open up the injury. It's so ugly! Is it going to heal? Am I going to have-
"Christine?" Erik opened the door, and saw her sitting at the vanity. Christine felt the cool air prickle her skin as he knelt and set the kit down. She swallowed nervously. Was it ugly? She wasn't quite sure she wanted Erik to see, if it was. As she heard his quick intake of breath, Christine pulled her head down and looked away from Erik.
"Christine..." he reprimanded, opening the kit. "Look up." To this she could only shake her head feebly. He sighed, somewhat annoyed. "Christine," he repeated, this time more sternly. "Let me see."
"No." She was blushing furiously, and knew how childish this was. But she suddenly didn't want him to see the marred skin. For some reason, she didn't want to let him of all people see it. She feared it had scarred, and that he wouldn't see her as...As what? "I can tend to it myself." She felt his hand under her chin, pulling her face up with a little force.
"Don't be ridiculous. It's in a difficult area to wrap up by yourself." He was becoming more and more agravated by her enigmatic behavior. Hadn't he seen it before? True, now it was bruising and looked more painful, but wasn't that all the more reason to treat her? She remained difficult, however, and tried to press away.
"Erik, don't. It's really fine-" She had to stop short as his he tugged her head up.
"No, it's not." He snapped impatiently. He brought a hand to her throat and gently touched the area. His action was met with a wince. "You see?" When she closed her eyes tightly, he felt that guilt eat at him again. "Keep still." A hand went to the kit and he pulled out the gauze and disinfectant. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
"Don't look," she whispered. He dropped what he was doing to look at her reddened face.
"Why not, Christine?" The annoyed edge was still there, but a tired gentilitylaid beneath it. She bit her lip.
"It's ugly." She was so embarrassed to admit this to him! She hadn't thought of any consequences when she'd acted, and now was the time she became mortified about it. "I..just don't look, all right?" Even as she said it, she felt herself become even more red. How have things come to change so quickly?
"Don't say such stupid things." He murmured, but there was no malice in his voice. What he did next took her by complete surprise. His hand moved to cup her cheek, continuing to keep her head up. She suddenly felt him at her throat, and shivered when what she was sure were his lips touched her. "You're beautiful."
He was soft, his lips tread only lightly on her skin. All thought fell away from her, and she could only feel the kindness in the gesture. Still, there was the sting of that sensitive wound she'd inflicted upon herself, making the moment bittersweet for her. It hurt and felt so inviting all at the same time.
When he pulled away to go back to the kit, it felt all too soon to her. It was the second time he'd kissed her. The first had been in gratitude, the second in acceptance. They had both been so reverent. So why do I feel so strange? Christine's eyes darted to his form again and again as he treated her wound, but he did not meet her gaze. He bandaged her throat again, and picked up the kit. As he walked out of her room, as if compelled, he cast one last look before he left. Her blush seemed to return with that look, and as he closed the door, she covered her eyes with her trembling hands.
What's wrong with me..?
A/N Nadir's found something odd, thanks to Raoul, and Christine just got all aflutter. Will there be trouble in their growing paradise? Leave a review and stay tuned for the next installment!
