I had a bit of trouble with this chapter. It's definitely one of the fluffier ones, but it also begins the build toward the climax. Hopefully you'll see what I mean. I also used a bit of realistic description in this chapter, using mostly photographs and such.
Some of you have asked about Christine having a chance to return to her old life, see Meg, etc. Let me just say that I'm fully aware she is still a prisoner, even if she's not sure about it. Lol. I write Christine's character mostly outside of myself. Whether her thoughts are sane and rational is for you to decide, but I doubt I'll let her get through the story without some sort of wake-up call. Erik, on the other hand, is directly from my psyche...j/k...sorta ;)
Thank you for your wonderful support as always!
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After Christine had softly asked Erik if he would accompany her to any destination, he had immediately suggested the Metropolitan Opera House, claiming that it was one of the few places he both enjoyed and could remain unnoticed. He stated that, because everyone was so concerned with their own appearances, they failed to take a second glance at anyone else. Christine had eagerly agreed to go, as it was another place she'd only heard about from college acquaintances and textbooks. She'd been to very few live performances in her life, much less an actual opera, and the thought of attending one was exciting. Christine was also thankful that she would no longer be touring the city alone, finding herself very content to be going with Erik. He knew much more about the performance than she ever would.
Not to her surprise, Erik was able to procure tickets for the show, Aida, almost instantaneously. The day after her audition with Mr. Piane, after many hours spent rehearsing with Erik, she began to dress for the occasion. Although the silky blue gown had always been in her closet, she had never had any reason to wear it, preferring to dress as modestly as possible. Now, though, she slipped it over her head and zipped it up, feeling the soft material flow over her torso and legs. Taking some of the various accessories out of the top dresser drawer, she did her hair up with various silver clips and barrettes. Staring down at herself, Christine suddenly wished she had a full length mirror to gaze into. She felt the odd need to look nice that night.
With a final glance in the hand mirror, she slowly emerged from her room. As the sitting area was a little chilly, she wrapped her arms around herself and approached Erik. He was dressed slightly more formally than usual, his dark suit pressed and fitting less loosely against his painfully thin frame. Christine shifted and blushed as he gazed over her.
"Perfect," he quietly stated.
She smiled. "Thank you. I'd forgotten it was even in there. But it's not too formal?"
"No. It is perfect."
Her cheeks tingled with warmth as they left the tiny apartment and entered into the January air. Everything seemed unusually peaceful that evening, even in the normally tumultuous neighborhood. The only sound was a lone dog, barking shrilly in the distance. All else was quiet as they climbed into the awaiting black vehicle.
"I hope you will enjoy the performance," Erik casually stated, once they were both settled and the car was making its way forward. "You have never been to an opera?"
"No," she replied, feeling a little uncultured. "I never had the chance. We studied some in my courses."
Erik laughed with good humor. The sound was richer and more pleasant than the cold chuckles she often heard from behind the mask. "You could learn little of opera and music from studying pointless texts. No. You must experience it. But I am quite sure that you will enjoy it."
"I'm sure that I'll like it," she replied, smoothing the wrinkles from her dress. Christine hesitated. "Thank you for coming with me."
"Of course," he replied, never looking away from her.
After a short silence, Erik continued to discuss both the opera and her upcoming opportunities. She nodded at his suggestions and ideas regarding her singing, occasionally contributing a comment. The atmosphere in the car was tranquil. Now that she wasn't constantly worrying, Christine was beginning to notice her surroundings...the sights of the city...Erik's simple gestures. She was starting to willingly settle into this new life, attempting to let go of any doubts or feelings of wrongness.
Christine was in silent awe as she first looked upon the white building with its many arched entryways and sparkling fountain at the front. The enormous windows were brightly lit up, a stark contrast to the night sky. "Wow..." she softly murmured.
"Yes," he agreed. "It is a bit flamboyant for my tastes. Nevertheless, it is an interesting piece of architecture."
After Erik stepped out, Christine attempted to open her door but found it to be locked. Within a second, though, he came around and opened it for her. She murmured her thanks as she stepped out onto the pavement, beginning to find that he had a certain old-fashioned etiquette. "Come," Erik said, gesturing forward. "I wish to get in early...before the crowds."
It was the first time that she had seen him in public, aside from his ethereal presence at the cemetery and when he had first taken her away. Erik was visibly alert, standing at full height and walking with a stiff gait. His eyes moved back and forth with suspicion, like those of a snake ready to dart at anything that crossed its path. He avoided the lighted patches of ground, keeping toward the shadows whenever possible. Perhaps it was his tense stature that caused Christine to take a hand and place it upon his arm as they walked forward. She felt an affectionate need to calm him...to let him know she was there. Erik glanced at her with delighted surprise, but she kept her gaze forward, allowing her palm to rest on the soft material of the suit.
As they walked into the illuminated building, he slowly moved his arm and took her hand. His flesh was still cold, but his fingers were only lightly brushing her skin. From the corner of her eye, she could see him check her expression for a negative reaction. As a warm smile graced her face, Erik turned and led them both inside. A torrent of voices and sounds immediately met her ears, and she blinked several times in the glaring lights. Although Christine wanted to take a moment and look around at the lavish entryway, Erik was intent on moving forward.
She quietly watched as he handed over two tickets. As they were in a darker area now, the ticket taker seemed fairly disinterested in the looming masked man, gesturing upward toward their area with a bored expression. Taking her hand more firmly, Erik led her up a long set of stairs. "We are in the balcony," he stated. Christine moved quickly to keep up with his long stride, finding herself almost out of breath as they reached their seating area, a balcony box set to the right side of the room.
"Oh!" she softly exclaimed, entering and gazing downward toward the reds and golds that decked the walls and seats of the enormous circular room. Majestic was the best word to describe the sight.
"Do you like it?" he enquired, seeming to take more pleasure in her excitement than in the view. "We can see everything yet never be seen."
"Yes!" she exclaimed, focusing her gaze on the closed curtains atop the stage. "It's great! Gorgeous. The seats are wonderful!"
"Good. I had hoped you would." Erik settled back into his seat. Christine watched as other people began to fill in, still in awe by the entire spectacle. There were thousands of seats, and she understood what Erik meant when he said that they would never be noticed by anyone else. Everyone seemed to blend into the surroundings, a collage of expensive clothing and made-up faces.
Taking in her fill of the sights around her, Christine finally sat down and gazed at the empty plush seats that still surrounded them in the balcony. "Will anyone else come into our section?"
"No," he firmly stated. "No one will bother us."
"Oh." She could only gather that he had made an arrangement beforehand but asked no more questions. Erik had brought her there, and she was nothing but grateful.
When the orchestra began some time later, Christine no longer even noticed her close surroundings. As the curtain swept opened, she became caught up in the enormous spectacle before her, the Egyptian costumes and rich singing. The tragic story of Aida, Radamès, and Amneris unfolded before her eyes, and she was able to push everything but the opera from her mind. For the rest of the evening, she allowed herself to forget her anxiety...forget everything...and lose her thoughts in the enormous world of make-believe on stage.
Tears ran down her cheeks when the performance ended several hours later, and she enthusiastically clapped with the rest of the audience. Forcing her eyes away from the stage, she turned to see Erik watching her and quickly wiped her face dry in embarrassment. "Did you enjoy it?" he questioned over the noise.
"Yes!" she exclaimed, facing him completely. "It was wonderful. Thank you so much for taking me. For everything." Perhaps it was from the adrenaline of the evening, but she felt a sense of closeness sweep through her-a mutual need. And how could she not feel something...after all he had done...when he loved her so much. Her sudden thoughts and bright surroundings were almost making her dizzy.
"Excellent." She sensed him smiling behind the mask. His eyes then narrowed in concern as he saw her distant expression. "Perhaps we should return now. You are beginning to look tired."
Still lightheaded, Christine allowed Erik to lead her out of the balcony box and back down the stairs. Feeling as though she were waltzing through a dream world, she was only able to focus when the cold outside air stung her cheeks. He quickly led her to the car and opened the door.
"You may sleep until we arrive home," Erik stated, once he was inside. "I fear that you have worn yourself out in a single night."
She nodded and took his advice, vaguely feeling him brush his hand against her cheek as she closed her eyes and drifted into a deep slumber.
I do not think this is the best place for you to begin your life, Erik. Not with your genius and abilities. Some of the stuff you can do is like nothing I have seen. Why not get away while you can? Start a life somewhere?
And where would the fun be in that, Nadir? Where else would I possibly belong?
You don't belong with all this death. No one does. Why don't you leave this country? Find a good job. A wife, even.
Erik had laughed, the sound causing Nadir to shiver. I find I fit in rather well with all this death. It suits me perfectly, really. The yellow slits narrowed bitterly. And I will never have a wife.
The Iranian paused. I do not understand. Why do you think you belong here?
That is right, Nadir. Erik's tone became slightly distant. You have never seen beneath the mask, have you? No wonder you are so hopelessly confused.
No. You're right. I have not. Why don't you show me? We have known each other for several months now.
I'd be doing you a favor by not.
Come. Nadir spoke with frustration. It can't be so bad as to damn you to this occupation.
No.
Really, Erik! In this day and age….How terrible can it be to make you think you cannot strive for more? It cannot be that bad.
The eyes glowed like hot embers. The Iranian had shrunk back, wondering if had stepped too far with the angry, young man. There was something very eerie about the newcomer. A chilly silence passed. Oh, but it is…. Erik finally said, bringing a skeletal hand up to his face. In a single motion, he ripped off the black mask.
Nadir woke up on the sofa, sweat pouring down his face as the horrific image flashed through his mind. His heart pounded quickly, and a chill ran through him as he pulled himself upright. His entire body ached with the exertion of the last several days. The dream, or rather nightmare, hadn't helped. That day was now many years passed, and he could still picture those two black eye sockets gazing at him.
For a moment, he believed that the nightmare had been his only reason for waking. When a high-pitched tone rang out from behind him again, though, he realized that someone was calling. Nadir cursed, tiredly groping around and trying to grasp the phone into his sweaty palm. "Now what?" he muttered to himself, as he finally grabbed onto it. Maybe it was Erik calling with another round of death threats. He hoped it was a wrong number.
"Hello?" Nadir asked, after clearing his throat of sleep.
"Mr. Khan?" The voice was slightly familiar, but it did not belong to Erik.
"This is he," Nadir replied with caution. "Who is this?"
"You may remember me from a month or so back. Mr. Weiss."
The Iranian's heart jumped inside of his chest. Why the hell hadn't he changed phone numbers at some point? "Mr. Weiss," he stated in a slightly choked voice. "How can I help you?"
"I think that you may know the answer to that question, sir," he replied. "People don't usually have the audacity to run out of FBI offices without so much as a word. Did you think I would dismiss you as a lunatic?" Nadir opened his mouth but could give no reply. Mr. Weiss chuckled. "Actually, I almost did. Until I started thumbing through Buquet's files. I think he had more in there than he knew about."
Nadir clenched his other fist, tired of playing head games. "What do you want, Mr. Weiss? I've had a nightmare of a week."
"I want to know exactly what you know. If some of the stuff in this file is true, we have a real threat to national security. Are you fully aware of that, Mr. Khan?"
"I can assure you that there is no threat to national security."
"That's good to know," Mr. Weiss replied, wryly. "Anyway, I don't want to discuss any more of this over the phone. I'd like to schedule another meeting with you. You can tell me what you know. If it helps the case, I'll tell you what I know."
Nadir hesitated, scanning through the decision in his mind. Was it time to bring Erik down? Getting the US government involved could only lead to a mess, though. He had no doubt that Erik would find out of the plans before they ever got to him. No. This wasn't the solution. "I don't think I have anything of significance to say to you, Mr. Weiss. I have nothing to tell you."
"If this information proves true and you were involved in it, are you aware that you would be committing a whole book of federal offenses? We're talking at least a life sentence, sir."
"I am doing nothing illegal," the Iranian stated, feeling anger arise in him. "Do you have proof that I am? Anything material?"
Mr. Weiss chuckled. "You have studied our customs, haven't you? No. I have nothing to accuse you of yet. But I'm still searching. And I'm getting closer."
"What do you mean?" Nadir asked, more frantically than he meant to. "What are you doing?"
"You sound a little alarmed, Mr. Khan. I'm afraid I can't give away any details." Some papers shuffled in the background. "That is, unless you want to give me some more information."
"No. I told you. I don't know anything. I'm sorry." Nadir wondered if his number could be traced.
"I see. Well, have a good evening, Mr. Khan. You know how to reach me if something suddenly crosses your mind." The phone call ended with an abrupt click. Nadir sat there with his ear to the receiver, staring blankly at the chipped walls of his apartment. The air seemed colder. An uncomfortable silence swept through the room.
There was no doubt that Erik would find out if he were being closed in on, especially at the slow rate Mr. Weiss was going. His masked friend was used to fleeing from one place to another, always one step ahead of those after him. Of course, a girl had never factored into the picture before. Was it possible that she could cloud his judgment? Somehow be his downfall?
Or would Erik simply take her with him-swoop Christine Daae off to the ends of the earth where no soul could ever find her?
While fear, anger, and anxiety had dominated Nadir's emotions for the last few weeks, a hollow sadness now engulfed him. He suddenly wondered if Ms. Daae's current happiness might be the best thing for everyone. At least she wouldn't be miserable if Erik took her away. Maybe she would even serve as an anchor for Erik's questionable sanity. It was certainly possible.
The Iranian attempted to console himself. Maybe she would even enjoy traveling to other places. Maybe she was genuinely happy in the cozy little world Erik had created for her.
He sighed, knowing that there was no solution to any of this. Right and wrong had become obsolete.
If Erik were ever forced to let Ms. Daae go, though, they may all be damned.
Waking up later than usual the following morning, Christine had found a copy of the New York Times lying upon the kitchen table, very close to the place she usually sat. Erik would often ask her if she was in need of anything at the house. The last time, she had hesitantly told him that she felt a little distanced from the rest of the world. She was happy, of course, but she wanted to know what was happening in her absence. He'd nodded in understanding and told her he would get her a periodical of some kind.
She smiled at his thoughtfulness as she poured herself a bowl of cereal. Sitting down at the kitchen table, Christine began to flip through the newspaper, glancing around at the headlines.
Nothing of immediate interest caught her eyes. Everything seemed the same as it had been before her disappearance. Bad weather could be moving through New England again, but that was nothing new. World affairs had stayed the same.
After an hour or so passed, Christine glanced up from the black print and realized that Erik had not yet emerged from his room. Listening carefully, she thought she heard his voice on several occasions but was never sure. Erik's whispers could be almost inaudible. Absentmindedly fingering the edge of the tablecloth, she thought back to last night with a sense of joy, remembering the warm contentment and bliss. That evening had been indescribable, wrapped in the breathtaking music with Erik beside her. She had wanted it to last longer than it did.
A cloud of confusion draped itself over her, and the lines between right and wrong became blurred and misshapen. Was she still a captive? No. She couldn't be. Captives weren't allowed to go out by themselves or make phone calls. She was choosing to be here. Desperately, Christine wanted everything to be okay as it was. Never had she felt this way before, both at peace and exhilarated. No. She couldn't be a prisoner.
Tired of sitting at the table, Christine got up and wandered into the quiet living area. Not wanting to be alone with her thoughts anymore, she longed for company. Maybe Erik would give her a voice lesson that morning. That would take her mind off things. Anxiously sitting on the sofa, she waited for him to come out, having nothing else to do but stare at the figurines that lined the walls. The serpent clock said that it was past nine.
When Erik did finally emerge nearly an hour later, an instant tension entered the room with him. Christine whirled around on the sofa to look up at him, startled when she saw a strange look in the glowing eyes, a franticness almost. He walked into the living area in quick strides.
"Good morning," she said with uncertainty, turning to look at him. "Is...is something wrong?"
"No," he sharply replied, coming very close to the sofa and standing above her. "Nothing is wrong, Christine. There has simply been a change of plans."
"What do you mean?"
Erik folded his hands together. "First, I do not think that Mr. Piane's production is right for you. Not at all. You are much better than he deserves." He spoke quickly and forcefully, thereby ensuring she would not argue with him.
"All right, Erik. If you think so. That's fine."
He nodded. "Yes. That is what I think. I promise to secure you another performance. A better one. You do believe me?"
"Of course," she replied. "Is something wrong? Did I..."
"No. You did nothing." Erik was silent for a moment, slowly trailing the tips of his fingers over her hair. "I would give you anything. Everything that I do is for you. You do understand that?"
"Yes. I know, Erik. You have given me everything. I don't know how to thank you."
"You have stayed, Christine! That is enough." He entwined her blonde strands into his fingers almost possessively. "And I won't lose you. Ever. I will never lose you."
Something was wrong. There was something almost fearful in his eyes. "I'm staying," she replied, trying to bring him comfort. "I've told you that I'm happy here. And last night was one of the most wonderful times of my life. I'm not going to leave."
"You wouldn't leave me, Christine. I know." He paused. "It is just that I must...run several errands over the next week. Some may take time. I fear that I cannot take you along, but I will attempt to be back every night."
"Oh," she whispered. "Do you want me to go leave? I mean for a little while?"
"No!" he exclaimed, startling her slightly. "I would prefer you stay here. If you would like, I will have one of my drivers take you out during the day. But I will not be able to accompany you often. I wish you to stay here, though." Removing his hand from her hair, he ran his fingers over the smooth onyx stone upon her finger.
She gently touched his hand. "Then I'll stay," she replied.
"Yes. I know. You will stay."
He looked down upon her with such adoration that she almost felt the need to throw her arms around his emaciated shoulders and give him peace. But her words were enough. "I will. Why would I leave now?" Her eyes glistened a little with the intensity of the moment.
He wrapped his cold hand around hers. "Yes. We will be fine. Nothing will come between us, my Christine."
She smiled and nodded, overcome with a medley of emotions. Confusion...uncertainty...joy...belonging...and something that she could not identify. All raced through her mind.
"Everything will be fine," she softly agreed, allowing him to cling to her hand. Minutes passed before he finally let go.
No more than a week later, she would find these same comforting words being repeated to her.
Everything will be fine, Christine. I promise.
Never were they true.