AN: Here it is, Chapter 25, and the beginning of the end (you'll see what I mean a chapter or so down the road ...). For now, enjoy and review (PLEASE!)
Disclaimer: I own nothing...I am but a poor fanfic writer quite devoted to the PotO.
Chapter 25
Outside of his music there was silence. When Erik had returned home later that night he'd locked himself away in his room to keep from opening the subject again with her. Christine, however, had made no attempt to knock on his door or speak to him again. It seemed to Erik that her outburst had completely drained the rebellion from her, because the next morning he'd found her practicing the music. In fact, she wouldn't speak of anything but the music now. She was willing to be utterly devout to his teaching and seemed to understand how little time they had left.
He'd gotten what he'd wished for. Christine was now nothing but his willing pupil. Gone was the woman with her flaws, replaced by a sort of cold perfection. She ceased to smile for him, to entreat him with her kind eyes. The liveliness of her personality became fuel for her performance. All she was now was a voice. And Erik, for his own selfish reasons, didn't care for this change at all.
Christine couldn't bear to look at him or think of him now that she'd made her discovery, but she still felt a stirring in her heart that she couldn't ignore any longer just the same. She could barely stand to be in the same room when they were not practicing the duet. As an outlet, she sang. The only thing to please him, the only way to love him, was to sing meticulously for his pleasure. Yes, she would be absolutely perfect on that stage, if only to feel loved for a little while. Her voice would be for his ears alone. It was the only thing she could give him. It would be the only way for him to understand.
This was how they spent the final days before the Masquerade, denying themselves and giving in to the music alone. When not working on the performance there was little talk between them. They hadn't yet found the words to make the other understand.
"We've done enough," Erik finally declared, putting away the score. Time had finally run out, and he could ask her for no more. The level she'd reached would have to do. "In the meantime, you'd do well to bathe and change into Aminta's clothes. We'll be leaving for the university in a few hours."
"All right." She moved nearly soundlessly to her room, heeding his words without even looking at him. He'd given her enough time to luxuriate in a nice hot bath before leaving, and she desperately needed it.
Erik went away to his room to put the finishing touches on the costumes they'd wear that night. There would be two sets of costumes -- one for the performance, and another for their getaway. Both would be equipped with masks to keep themselves concealed from the public. He picked up the black mask of Aminta. It would cover Christine's face, from her brow to the tip of Christine's nose. Unless her beautiful eyes betrayed her, her identity would remain a mystery.
Christine rested her head against the porcelain rim of the tub, soaking in the warm water. Tonight was the night -- she would sing for him before an audience and make him feel everything she was feeling. By god, on the stage she would not be Christine, she would be Aminta, singing to her lover. It might be the only chance she'd have to make him understand.
When tonight is over, what will happen to us? She had decided her course of action, but that didn't mean she wasn't afraid. What if the performance was all he wanted of her? Once she'd consented to it, Erik had changed so completely. What if he continued to live this cold, uncaring life with her? She dreaded this kind of inert lifetime with him more than anything. He'd forever be so close, and never hers at all...
"It's time," Erik said as he left her costume on the bed. He tapped softly on the bathroom door to alert her before leaving. He had to prepare as well if he was to be a suitable Don Juan. He'd set aside his own clothes and had just come out of the shower himself. He used the towel around his shoulders to tussle his wet hair.
'What will you do, once this night is over?' Erik sighed at the question. What was the right answer, after all?
"We'll live together, as before."
'In separate rooms' the voice snickered. 'You'll cage both the girl and yourself...if she comes back with you.'
"She'll come back." He gripped the towel a little tighter. "Now go away, damn you." He would not goad himself into suspicion and blackmail. Not tonight. It belonged to Christine, and she would shine as he'd always known she could. His anxiety and blackened mind would not get in the way of that.
He picked up his own black mask and began to secure it to his face. He could have laughed at how familiar the feel of such an object was to his face. 'A mask...holding such memories...'
Christine slipped on the white top and smoothed it into her Spanish skirt. Delicately she placed her mask over her features and sighed. There was a magic in wearing another's clothes and donning their character. Aminta was beautiful and innocent, and yet...seductive in her own right. Her clothes were no more than a peasant girl's, but the dark mystery in the mask and the rose in her hair made her enticing and unique.
She looked at her reflection in the mirror. Has the magic affected you yet? Christine found herself smiling genuinely. Yes, this was the Aminta she wanted to play. She stepped out of her room and to the impatient Erik in the den.
"Christine, are you--" He stopped short as she came in, a black shawl wrapped around her shoulders. She looked the part, and took the thought from his mind. What made her most appealing to him was the smile that lit up her face. Her soft eyes were fixed on him, as if these painful times between them had finally ended.
"I'm ready, Erik." She moved forward and took his hand. "Let's go."
Instinctively he held fast to her hand. Since they'd begun this whole thing, Erik hadn't touched her, but that deprivation only heightened what he was feeling at this moment. He had to release her hand, however, to open the front door. He paused a moment, only to glance at the young woman waiting patiently for him. Because I want to give you everything tonight that I've taken away, if only for a little while...I won't be afraid. He opened the door for them and held out his hand.
"Let's go, Christine."
Christine sat in the passenger's seat of Erik's black BMW after being hurried out of the complex. 'He probably didn't want to be seen by neighbors even though it was already dark outside.' She could accept this and looked out the window. She was outside, going back to her old campus to sing for everyone at a Masquerade. She knew she should feel extremely thrilled, but instead she was anxious. Once Erik heard her sing for him, would he understand? Would everything change or remain as it was?
She stole a glance at his profile as he drove. Why is it you? she kept asking herself. Hadn't she loved other people before? Her parents, her friends, even her childhood sweetheart Raoul -- she knew she'd loved them. It just wasn't the same, though. What she was feeling now was different somehow. Unable to completely understand it, Christine scoffed at her audacity at trying to make him acknowledge it. Please...Angel of Music...let me sing for him alone tonight. Let me touch some small part in his soul.
They had entered through the back to check in with the stage crew. Erik spoke quietly with the manager, trying to find out when they'd be on. Apparently they would be on as soon as the orchestra finished their set.
"Five minutes," said one stagehand. Erik nodded and stood with Christine in the wings. He watched the crowd as they whirled about the floor and wondered if they would cease their dancing and pay attention when they performed. Would they receive Christine with applause? If they didn't, they were fools...but it would surely break her heart if that were the case...
He was holding her hand even as he looked away. Her eyes were fixed on him and nothing else. As the time to perform drew closer, he held her hand tighter, almost painfully so. Still, she couldn't find it in herself to pull away. Instead, she tightened her grip on his.
You're nervous, aren't you, Erik... She was amazed at her ability to discern it from the way he held her hand, when his face was so impassive. But she recognized it and wanted to be a sense of comfort to him. Slowly she brought her hand to his shoulder, turning him to see her. They stared into each other's eyes.
"Leave it to me," she whispered. "I'm your Aminta. Trust me." Even as the curtain closed and the orchestra rushed past them, they remained a moment longer like this until he took her hand.
"You alone can make my song take flight." He brought his hand to her cheek and lowered his head to her ear. "Sing for me."
Her voice would not fail her, not after hearing those words from his lips.
AN: See? I did NOT abandon this story...I like seeing things through to the end. But, please, leave me a review? I've been getting so few, and I'll admit it did bum me out (yes, I secretly am this petty). So, will you inspire me with a few words?
