"Are you finished, Christine?" he asked me from across the table. I stared at my nearly empty plate, and nodded. "Good," he smiled, "because I have a surprise for you." I glanced up, narrowing my brow in confusion.
"A surprise? Are we going up to the roof again?"
"No, my dear, not tonight." He got up and walked into drawing room, coming back with both of our coats. I smiled in spite of myself.
"What are we doing, Erik?"
"So curious! But you shall have to wait until we are outside, I'm afraid." Outside? For a moment I thought he would let me go, but the expression on his face killed all ideas of freedom. He was far too…happy, perhaps? Excited?
He held out his arm. "Come, mon ange. Tonight we flee the underworld." I placed my hand lightly on his sleeve, and allowed him to help steady me as I got into the boat. As we rode along I leaned back against the frame, and relaxed into the swaying motion of the water beneath us.
As expected, Cesar greeted us, and I stroked his nose fondly. My cheeks reddened as I stepped on the side of him, waiting helplessly for Erik's assistance, which he offered without hesitation. We followed the familiar path to my dressing room, and once before the mirror Erik put up his hood and grasped the glass, pulling it aside.
"We need to be quick," he said, turning to me. "Follow me." Walking with large strides, Erik was oblivious to the fact that I had to jog just to keep up with him. He took me down the staircase, now devoid of candlelight. He turned away from the front entrance, and for a moment I simply stared. I could easily have screamed then, could have ran as fast as my legs would carry, and I would have been free from him—the door was so close! But I didn't. I turned towards his tall, shadowy figure, and ran to catch up. He had stopped as well, and was staring at me intently.
"Are you ready to continue?" he asked me softly, and for a moment I thought I saw a wet gleam on his face.
"I am," I said, and he nodded.
We went out the back entrance of the Opera House, a door usually reserved for workers carrying props and such in and out of the theater. I had no idea what Erik intended, until I spotted the still carriage that beckoned us from the shadows. I stopped by the door, at a loss for what to do.
"Mademoiselle," Erik said, playfully bowing as he ushered me in. I smiled.
"Thank you, Monsieur," I responded, picking up my skirt and stepping inside. The interior was barely illuminated with moonlight, and I could just make out the two seats on either side of me. I chose the one on the left, and Erik followed behind me, choosing the one on the right. We faced each other, his golden eyes devouring mine, before he turned to shut the door. We were off.
"Why are you doing this for me? I thought I wasn't allowed to leave the Opera House," I said some moments later.
"I thought you might enjoy it," he told me. "I know it tends to wear on one, being cooped up down there." I nodded slowly. Poor Erik, I thought being down there for—how long had it been? Two weeks?—was uncomfortable, but how long had Erik suffered the stiff air and darkness, and alone?
"It's a beautiful night," I started, attempting to change the subject. "Do you do this often?" I thought he smirked in the moonlight.
"No, not often. In fact, not for many years."
"But are you enjoying it?" I asked.
"Very much," he said, and for a brief second our eyes locked, allowing me to read the soft adoration and longing reflected within him. I blushed deeply, and laid my head against the window. Outside I could see the rows of shops, one for fashion and food and such, all gray against the moonlight.
"Sing for me, Erik," I implored, and closed my eyes as he began a low lullaby. For a brief moment I was content, if not happy, to be with him while we paraded around Paris. I couldn't help but imagine Erik as a normal man—a man who didn't sleep in a coffin, or live underground…a man with a face. I was woken from my thoughts by a strangled voice, shouting something that sounded oddly like my name.
"Christine! Christine!" My eyes snapped open, and I turned around to see what made my heart sink with despair. There was Raoul, frantic and gasping, running madly after our carriage. For a moment I could only gape in shock, before my senses returned and I pushed myself the middle of the carriage. Erik yelled at the driver to go faster, and I gulped. I feared more than anything for the safety of my friend, and the look that now took shape in Erik's eyes was all the assurance I needed to know Raoul was in danger.
"How did he know?" He spat at me. "Did you tell him?"
"I—No, Erik—I—I've been with you. You know I couldn't have told him, and I never would have!"
"Oh, really? You once told me you cared for him! Why not now? Don't pretend you don't long to jump out this carriage and into his arms! Don't you lie to me, Christine!" I choked back a sob as tears made their way down my pale cheeks.
"I'm not lying! Did you see me try to get out? Did I even call out to him?"
"You were afraid for him!" he cried. "You were afraid of me!" In a last attempt, I grabbed onto his coat sleeve.
"Please, he's leaving the country," I said, trying to still him. "He's going to the North Pole, and I'll never see him again." I allowed Erik to read my expression, and hoped to the heavens he found me sincere.
"You swear to me?"
"I do."
"And when does he leave?"
"In a month's time. Thirty days or less and I'll know him no longer." His shaking subsided, but his fists did not unclench themselves. I cast my head down, unable to face him.
"Please don't be angry with me," I whispered. Something like a soft sigh fell from his lips.
"I am not angry with you, Christine," he said so gently it frightened me. He yelled to the driver to take us back, shouting directions I took no note of. We spent the remainder of the carriage ride in silence, and even as we crossed the lake very few words were ushered.
Once we were back in the house, Erik took my coat and hung it with his near the door. I stared awkwardly at the floor as he walked towards me.
"It is late, my dear. You must be tired." I opened my mouth, but realizing I had nothing to say, I shut it once more.
"I…I want to thank you, Erik, for the ride," I said quietly.
"You are welcome," he replied, equally as still.
"Goodnight, then," I said, and began walking towards my bedroom door.
"Christine—!" he stopped me, and I turned to face him. He fidgeted nervously as he drew something from him pocket. It was a small jewelry case, and as he stood near me he opened it. My lips parted in surprise to see the shining golden band, and my heart panged in my chest as I looked from the ring to him. It was a wedding ring, like any fiancé would give his beloved.
"I would ask that you wear this," he started, "but only as a promise. You once swore to me that you would never marry, and I would hope you do not intend to break your word. You are everything that matters in the world to me, and I…I cannot live while you wed another." He paused. "I want you to know that if you do accept this ring, nothing bad will happen to you or those you love while you stay in this theater. I swear it."
I looked down at the band, unable to lift my gaze to him. In my musings I realized that for over three months I had had my heart set on never marrying, so why should I change my mind so suddenly? Erik waited patiently for my response, and I thought over his pleas. I knew this ring would mean more to him than he would say—it would mean I wore his ring, and his ring alone. But he must have no known I could never marry him!
"I will wear it," I said firmly. Erik's hands shook involuntarily as he lifted the ring from its box, and looked uncertainly at me. For the first time since coming down here, I held a pale hand out to him. Why should I forever be afraid of the hands of a man who had sworn never to even touch me without my permission? Regardless, Erik took special care not to graze his death fingers with mine.
"I—Goodnight, Christine."
"Goodnight, Erik," I said, and made my way to my room.
I do not think I had ever loved her more than when she lay there, eyes shut and face serene, wearing the golden band I had bought her. Oh, she was like a real fiancé! If she had not accepted me, at least she would accept no other. I had eternity, then, to try and win her love.
Afraid that I would do something unthinkable if I stayed any longer, I fled the room, and retired to my organ. Thoughts of her face clouded my mind, and in all my rare joy my fingers played over a softer, sweeter melody, and I sung softly.
The truest love that ever heart Felt at its kindled core, Did through each vein, in quickened start, The tide of being pour.
Her coming was my hope each day, Her parting was my pain; The chance that did her steps delay Was ice in every vein.
I dreamed it would be nameless bliss, As I loved, loved to be; And to this object did I press As blind as eagerly.
But wide as pathless was the space That lay our lives between, And dangerous as the foamy race Of ocean-surges green.
And haunted as a robber-path Through wilderness or wood; For Might and Right, and Woe and Wrath, Between our spirits stood.
I dangers dared; I hindrance scorned; I omens did defy: Whatever menaced, harassed, warned, I passed impetuous by.
On sped my rainbow, fast as light; I flew as in a dream; For glorious rose upon my sight That child of Shower and Gleam.
Still bright on clouds of suffering dim Shines that soft, solemn joy; Nor care I now, how dense and grim Disasters gather nigh.
I care not in this moment sweet, Though all I have rushed o'er Should come on pinion, strong and fleet, Proclaiming vengeance sore:
Though haughty Hate should strike me down, Right, bar approach to me, And grinding Might, with furious frown, Swear endless enmity.
My love has placed her little hand With noble faith in mine, And vowed that wedlock's sacred band Our nature shall entwine.
My love has sworn, with sealing kiss, With me to live--to die; I have at last my nameless bliss. As I love--loved am I!
I stopped, and my heart caught in my throat to see Christine standing at the back of my organ, her pale form shaking slightly as tears fell from her eyes.
"That was beautiful," she whispered, her lips turning upward in a small smile. For a moment I could only stare at her before I regained my senses.
"I am sorry to have woken you," I said at last. She shook her head.
"I'm glad you did," she paused before adding, "will you play some more, for me?"
"Of course, angel. What would you like to hear?"
"Play from Romeo et Juliette. Play from their wedding night." She sank into the chair left of the organ, and closed her eyes against the music. I was glad, for she was oblivious to my tears.
A/N: Wow, an entire five page chapter! Yoohoo!
Ps: I don't own PotO, or Jane Eyre, which is where Erik's song is from.
Quiet2885—Hmm, I did intend to bring Nadir in, but now I'm not sure when that'll be. To be totally honest, I have a very vague idea of where this story is going, and it's subject to change at any moment. The only thing I know is that I will end it E/C, because I'm really incapable of having it end any other way, lol. I'll look forward to your story, if you do decide to write a book-based fic! Thanks so much!
Reading Redhead—Thank you, I'm glad I didn't screw Erik up. Hopefully I won't in this chapter, either.
Jo—Thanks! Yeah, poor Erik…
Hereswith—Thank you! It's good to know some like their relationship being taken slow. I really just can't see it any other way. Although, sometimes I get bored with writing a chap and end up writing a sentence like, '"I love you," said Christine, and they made out like monkeys.' Thank goodness for my self-control, huh? ;) lol.
Allegratree—Thank you so, so much! And no, I haven't pre-written my ending, but that is a good idea. First I'll have to figure out where this story ends, lol. Maybe sometime in the next five chaps…something involving the whole gang…muses
Scimitarmoon—Thank you! And…were you telling me something or just bursting into song? Lol.
Blaze—Yes, chapter nine took place the day after the rooftop scene. Christine woke up in the morning, spent the day on Faust, and their conversation took place in the evening. ) About the whole reading thing…that was a mistake on my part. I had intended to attach this other scene with him reading to her, but I got bored and cut it. So, obviously, singing would have worked well in place of that but my head in rarely screwed on right. And thanks, I'm glad you're backing me on Erik's moody moments. Ack, that fic sounds horrible. Erik would never, ever be mad if he didn't receive a thank you. Sheesh. Oh, and don't worry, carriage scene not forgotten. ;) Thank you so much! Btw, OOC means out-of-character.
Miranda7911—cracks up She DOES have Erik's child! What is this woman on? I have so many things to say to that, but I'll zip my lips until I can send her a nasty letter. Why are people so into it, then? shudders Back on track, thanks so much for reviewing!