I concealed my surprise at Christine's return that night, but I could not hide my irritation at her intentional avoidance. Whenever I came near she would step back, no matter how far apart we had been, and her answers to my questions were quick and hesitant.
"Did your visit go well?" I asked.
"Oh, yes," she replied, keeping her eyes on the floor or the wall as she hung her coat. It wasn't that I was unused to her even shrinking from the sight of my face, but as of late it had seemed, sometimes, that she didn't mind it so.
"Is your mother well?"
"Yes…" Christine sighed. "Actually, I do think I worried her a bit more than I intended."
"Ah, so you told her the truth?" I presumed.
"Sort of."
"My dear, is something wrong?" She shot me a worried glance, as though checking to see if I was accusing her or not. Taken aback by the features that looked into mine, I gaped in concern at her red eyes rounded in black rings of exhaustion.
"It-it has been a long day," she tried to cover up. Her head lowered as an unwanted blush crept over her cheeks, but I was glad for the color. "Would you mind if I were to retire?"
"Of course, Christine. Please, try to get some rest," I insisted, gesturing to her door with a wave of my hand. She managed a weak smile before falling from my sight.
…
"Christine, are you awake?" Her reply was undoubtedly muffled by the distance of two doorways, but I knew nonetheless that she was up. "My dear," I continued, "I forgot to inform you last night that rehearsals for Faust begin this afternoon. Will you be ready to attend?"
"Today?" she asked, and her voice was nearer. I straightened up when she flung open the door, looking surprisingly well. There was only a faint hint of gray beneath her eyes.
"Yes," I answered, "is that alright?"
"Oh, goodness," she said, and bit her lower lip in distain. I wished inwardly for her to stop bringing such attention to her mouth. "I wonder what the cast has thought of my absence. Are you sure I will be welcomed?"
"Of course. I promised to take care of everything, didn't I?" I paused. "And you, as always, will be marvelous."
"Thank you," she replied, avoiding my stare as she fidgeted with the hips of her dress. I could almost feel the weight of the tension, and decided in that moment she was nervous because she was guilty. She was hiding something from me.
"Christine, is there something you wish to tell me?" The color in her face drained, leaving her dramatically pale. She tried in vain to seem ignorant of the meaning behind my comment.
"What do you mean?" she breathed.
"You've been acting upset, I simply assumed…" I trailed off, leaving her to find a better argument.
"I am sorry if I've offended you with my worry," she said quickly, "but I did not leave my mother's house in the best emotional state."
"Ah, then I ask you to forgive my ignorance," I replied. She did not catch on to my light sarcasm. "Come, do you wish to warm up before rehearsals?" She nodded, and we went to stand before the organ.
Jammes became the leader of a rather obnoxious group of ballet girls who demanded incessantly—at least when the ballet mistress was not paying attention—to know where I had been for the past two weeks. Now it wasn't that I truly disliked Jammes, but the rude way in which she questioned me left me only to say: "Away," in an unusually haughty tone.
"I heard you were sick," she insisted, "that you were chained to a hospital bed as a result of some unspeakable disease."
"Well, I heard you were off with your secret lover!" giggled another girl. I glared at them both, prepared to shoot back, when another voice broke in.
"Girls!" snapped La Sorelli, "Get back in your places this instant, or I'll tell the mistress about the joke I saw played on poor Meg this morning!" Jammes and her companion both turned exceedingly white before backing away and heading towards the rest of their group. I gave Sorelli a relieved, grateful smile, but she had already turned away.
The new managers seemed indifferent about my arrival. They nodded at my presence, but did not verbally acknowledge me. I wondered idly what Erik had said to them. Erik. I quickly glanced up to the forbidden box, and thought, for the tiniest second, that there was a flash of gold from behind the curtain. He had told me he would be watching my performance.
Today was merely a run through for our voices, and for the ballet's legs. Gabriel, the chorus master, strode back and forth while calling out instructions, and plans for improvement. I had been paying attention, at first. But then I saw the new arrival in the audience, and my script nearly fell in the grip of my trembling hands.
Raoul sat in the middle rows, closer to the end, in one of the plush, imitation velvet chairs. His expression was warm, and he seemed delighted that I had finally found him. I panicked, because I knew by now Erik would have seen him as well, but I could not stop during rehearsals to run to a ghost's box! They cast would have thought I'd gone mad! Instead I remembered the ring, and my angel's promise.
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.
With a free finger, I gently stroked the gold band, then turned my head decisively upward. With Erik's box in sight, and my eyes gazing softly into the shadows, I mouthed: You promised. He must have understood.
The rehearsals ended badly. My nerves unfortunately got the better of me, and Raoul's presence loomed like a grim reminder of a sentence yet to be delivered. We were dismissed with a hand wave and a sigh, followed by a series of warnings no one took too seriously. Raoul stood, and jogged slowly down the isle to meet me. I shut my eyes tightly, putting my fingertips to my temple while I feigned a headache. I couldn't bring myself to look up to Erik's box.
"Christine! You were wonderful, Lotte!" It was hard to suppress a smile when he used my nickname with such fondness, and eventually I did give in.
"Raoul, you shouldn't be here!" I chided. "You don't know the danger you're putting yourself in."
"I wanted to see you," he insisted softly. I sighed, and prepared myself, for I knew what I had to do, and feared the consequence.
"Well, as long as you're here…" I smiled. "What do you wish to speak of?"
"Anything. I want you to know that the date of my departure for the polar expedition has been put forward. I have only three weeks here, and I'd like to spend them with you, if you'll permit me." My heart sunk at his words.
"Oh, please do not say such things! You know we cannot spend time together!"
"How can you keep denying me, Christine? I may die on that expedition!"
"I do not wish to deny you, Raoul! You are a good friend, and I care about you, but I am being sensible!"
"Sensible? You are not being sensible, you are being controlled! Controlled by your damn Erik!" I gasped, and flung my hand to his mouth, searching his eyes for an answer.
"How could you, Raoul?" I whispered. "He knows now. Oh, he knows!"
"As he should! He should know, also, that there is another player! He should know that I love you!" I stepped back, trembling and undoubtedly pale.
"You do not love me, Raoul, or if you do you shall never speak of it again." I paused, drawing strength. "Please, let us part on better terms."
"What better terms than terms of love are there? But I understand, I think. Or I will try to. If you wish me not to love you, then I will not confess again, and you can let your imagination do the rest."
"Thank you," I said quietly, suppressing my tears. Oh, Raoul! Did I love him, too? He reminded me of everything good: of my father, of the time when I really was Little Lotte. He embodied life outside the Opera House, and in turn the freedom I longed for. But he was not my escape, nor would he ever be, because in some strange way I wasn't sure I wanted to leave.
"How is Phillipe?" I asked. Raoul smiled.
The rest of the conversation was pleasant. We talked of his family, my father, the days when we were young. It was unlike the conversations I had with Erik; with my angel I spoke of music and art, and he spoke to me of love. I could speak to him about anything in the world and he would listen as though the words I spoke meant everything to him. Raoul was , but he was not
"I must go, Raoul." I told him firmly. He sighed.
"Will you call on me again?"
"I would like to," I confessed, "And I will, if I can."
"Then I must let you go." He took me gently by the shoulders and kissed my cheek lightly, boyishly. I blushed deeply, feeling the tingle on my bare flesh, and then I remembered.
"Goodbye, Raoul!" I called, fleeing frantically towards my dressing room. I was sure Erik had seen, and I had no doubt he was furious. Even before my door, I began to weep, and pulled on the handle with the eagerness of signing my own obituary.
The room was empty, but I knew Erik was near. I could almost feel his presence—his anger permeated the room and made me shiver. I walked slowly towards the mirror. "Erik?" It came out as a hoarse, barely audible whisper. I cleared my throat.
"Erik, I'm sorry. I know you told me not to speak to him, but, I…he's leaving in three weeks, Erik. I had to say goodbye!" The room seemed to drop temperature with every word I spoke. "Erik," I whispered worriedly, "Say something."
The faint clink of the mirror being opened brought my attention to the glass' center, where I knew he would be, and I waited in a fearful anticipation. Little by little, the mirror revealed him, but I was not prepared for the full sight of him. His eyes seemed like golden flames burning to their full potential in a dark cavern. His hands, which were no longer gloved, were now fists that shook involuntarily. I shrank away, more afraid than ever, for I had not seen him this angry since I first unmasked him. Oh, I thought he would kill me!
"Get up, Christine," he whipped icily, "We're going home." Trembling madly, I stood up fully, but was afraid to walk until he had turned around, and I could follow him. Our journey was spent in a silence broken only by out feet as they collided with the ground. He did not help me in or out of the boat, and only held open the door to make sure I would actually enter. Breathing in deeply, I had no choice but to follow this man into a place where, if he wished it, no one would hear or see me again.
He turned, and I cast my eyes down. "Please," I pleaded softly, letting fresh tears spill onto my gown, "Forgive me."
"You said you would not speak to him, Christine. You swore to me. Not only did you break your word, but—" Oh, he was so calm! So frighteningly calm! "You let him kiss you!" His hand flung out from his its place at his side at struck the Parisian vase on the table. The painted porcelain flew against the wall and smashed. I screamed, and pressed my fist against my mouth to stifle a new string of sobs.
"Do you want the boy to live, Christine?" he asked casually.
"Oh, Erik, you wouldn't! Tell me you won't hurt him!"
"No!" He cried suddenly, causing me to stumble back. "No… I'm tired of your deceits, Christine. How did he know my name?"
"He…Erik, I'm afraid of you. I-I can't tell you."
"Did you really go to your mother's house, my dear? Come, you can tell me."
"Yes," I answered, flickering my gaze to his flaming eyes. He nodded.
"And then what? Did you invite the boy over? Did you cling to him and sob at the thought of returning to me!"
"No…" I shook my head fervently, still cowering in the shadow of his tall form. "Erik, you promised…"
"Yes, I did. I promised not to harm those you love while you stay in my domain—my Opera House. But did you see him outside of those boundaries, Christine? I told you it was dangerous!"
I was afraid to lie to him—afraid because he could see in my eyes the truth. "He came to find me, Erik," I said softly, defeat showing in my posture. "I didn't invite him, and I didn't anticipate him coming. I didn't even want him there." He gave a short, hollow laugh that caused me to shiver.
"Didn't want him there? Yet I am quite sure you wanted him with you today."
"Is it so wrong to wish to speak with someone other than you? He has been my friend for most of my life, and yes, I enjoy speaking to him about our youths, about my father. Why must you condemn me for it?" The last part came out as a pleading whisper, and for a second I was sure I saw his face soften.
"I condemn you, my dear…because I am frightened at the thought of losing you." It wasn't a sarcastic remark, or even an angry one. It was pathetically sincere. Before I could respond he spoke again. "To please you, I will make you a deal. You will be allowed to speak to him, but it must be inside the Opera House. However, at the end of three weeks all communication will cease. Is that clear?" I nodded.
"Yes." He cast his eyes down, as though trying to release his negativity before glancing at me again.
"You should wash up for dinner," he said quietly, motioning to my door. But I didn't walk in the direction he wished. In an act of gratitude I went and stood before him, trying my best not to be intimidating by his height or look of surprise.
"Thank you, Erik," I told him somewhat tremulously, and with the full knowledge that he wasn't wearing gloves I took his hand in mine. I wasn't prepared for the effect our contact had on me. His inevitable shiver ran through me as well, but not from icy feel of his fingers. As he caressed the top of my hand lovingly with his thumb, I felt what I had on occasions when we sang—when I was emotionally drawn to him. It was the feeling that welled up inside of me whenever the last note rang out from our voices, and we stared at each other from across the organ, out of breath and mesmerized. I felt connected to him. Startled, I withdrew my hand rather sharply.
"Christine…" I bolted from his sight, not even stopping as he cried, "Forgive me!"
I shook involuntarily as I shut my door, then sat on my bed and cried silently. I was frightened because I couldn't hate Erik, because I couldn't deny him my company, and because I no longer feared the touch of his death hands.
That night, I did not come out for dinner.
A/N: Hey guys, I'm really sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out but I had another family emergencies, and I've spent the better part of two weeks at the hospital. Also, this chapter was very difficult for me to write, and I'm not at all pleased with how it turned out. I need your feedback, so please review, and thank you for the reviews on the last chapter!
Quiet2885—I think it's funny how you're usually the first one to review my chapters. ;) I'm glad you didn't find my Raoul OOC, because I've had a hard time suppressing my urge to make him abusive or something that will make Christine dislike him, lol. About the final lair scene…I haven't actually decided if I want to use it or make up something less similar. Either way, there will be a "marry me or die" scene, hehe.
Reading Redhead—AAAAAHHHHH! –is extremely jealous- I can't believe you get to see Wicked AND PotO in London! Lucky! Well, have fun in Europe! ;)
Rosebud tragedy—I saved my butt in the nick of time? Lol.
Clever Lass—Thanks! And hey, when you get that Leroux fic up, tell me! Oh, and are you ever going to update Denouement? I LOVE that story!
Girl wandering—Thank you so much! Lol, I'm glad someone else doesn't mind the E/M obsession I randomly had. It's over now, though. I was really into this fic called Who is this Angel, and I stayed up until one in the morning reading it, but then the author made Meg a prostitute and I was so mad I lost all interest in anything E/M. hehe.
Allegratree—LOL! Wow, you're the first person to ever catch that, or at least mention it. When ever I write I always wonder how Christine sees all of Erik's facial expressions because he IS so deformed, but I put them in there anyway because no one ever says anything. Now that you've mentioned it, though, I'll be more careful. Erik smirked in the last chapter, so I erased it for you, hehe.
Ally—I actually went back and took out a LOT of the mush, because when I read it over after getting feeback I realized, like you said, that the E/C was very rushed. Oh, and I went back and took out the "I trust you" part, as well, because you were right about that one, too. I don't think I'll have the Apollo Lyre's scene in this fic, or at least it will be very different, so yeah… Thank you!
Mominator—'That six months he predicted was just indigestion!' Lol! True, true! I hope Erik gets his happy ending, too. ;)
Darth Arachne—Thank you so much!
Wendela—Aw, thank you for your compliments on the first half! About the second half, I really didn't extend it that much. In the version I was reading their conversation was pretty long, but I understand what you're saying. As for Christine promising to call on Raoul the next day, that did happen in the book. Oh, guess what? I found my copy! It was underneath all the shirt in my dresser drawer. Don't ask me what it was doing there, lol. You have Susan Kay's Phantom…and you could send it to me? Seriously? I would love you SO MUCH!
Bellamyy—Wow. I mean, wow. Your review was one of the most flattering I've ever received, and I'm very grateful for your words. Although you're the reason I was nervous about posting this chapter. ;) You brought out a lot of good points, and I agree with you that Erik would most likely still be shunned, even in the world of 2005. I've seen specials on TV where disfigured individuals were interviewed, and society still treats them shamefully. And don't worry, this WILL end E/C, as promised. I'm incapable of writing anything else. Again, thank you so much, and I hope you'll continue to enjoy this story, and will give me your honest opinion on future chapters.
Milky White—Thanks! Lol, yes, self control has been a hard virtue for me to get down, but I think it's been worth it. Believe me, I WANT them off cuddling in a corner listening to romantic opera music, hehe. I'm also a hardcore E/C shipper, so it shouldn't be hard to guess the ending pairing for this phic. Darnit, it's not Mon? Grrr. Hey, do you think you could ask your mom the female version for me? I'd like to go back and fix it. Thanks!
Letthedreamdecend—Aww, thank you so much! You're review meant a lot to me, I squealed after reading it. ;) I hope you like this update, and thanks again, Anna!
Miranda—Lol, it's fine, I'm actually just glad you took the time to review at all. Haha, I actually didn't switch to Erik's POV; It was Christine sighing. Sorry about the Raoul bashing, I try not to be too harsh, but sometimes I can't help it. Oh well. Thank you so much for reviewing, and don't worry, I doubt Blaze will be mad. Abort your hiding place! ;)
Also, thank you to: LilyEvansPotter, Invader Vega, Sariah (Did you review twice? Lol), The Dragon Sorceress (Yeah, the Leroux version DID center around Raoul and Christine), Ripper (Still waiting for that disaster…hehe), Linny, Mini Nicka, Faust (Only three? I read way to many at a time, then…lol), and Sabrina Fair