Fallen Angels Chap.7
Christine gently rearranged the flowers that rested in the vase adorning her dinning room table. Wild flowers, they smell so sweet, the last of summer's blooms. It had been an extraordinary few weeks since her engagement to Erik. They announced their news to Meg, Henri, and Madame Giry, who all received it with great enthusiasm. Thanks to Meg, the word spread like wild fire throughout the opera community, and to anyone in Paris who kept up with the gossip of the theatres. Everyone was whispering among themselves of the great romance between the lovely soprano and the reclusive genius. Christine was swamped by well wishers every time she neared the opera house. Many were curious about her fiancée and Christine could only tell them that he rarely appeared in public for private reasons. She felt a bit guilty about shunting off people she had grown to know as friends, but Erik was still very vulnerable and she knew that he needed time before he would find the outside world to be a safe place.
True to their word, the managers had provided her with handsome salary and the home she had longed for her. She and Erik were able to move in within weeks of the day they promised it to her. Sometimes it amazed her how one day could have seen so many lovely events after the previous months of personal desolation. When they first had moved she felt guilty about leaving Madame Giry all alone. Christine had been assured that she would be keeping plenty busy when Meg's first baby eventually came along. Until then, she was showing Meg how to run a ballet, in expectation of her daughter taking up her position within a few years. Meg certainly had the talent and the experience, and in a little while she would develop the motherly manner necessary to containing the giddiness of the ballet corps.
The scent of flowers filled Christine's home, Erik delighted in bring her anything that would put a smile on her face. He wrote more and more these days, the managers clamoring for more operas from the masked composer. In addition to composing he had begun to delve into literature as well, and from what Christine had read when he didn't know she was looking, he excelled in that field as well. If he continued to work in the furious manner he had been, he would be famous in no time, and quite rich. Men would pay a fortune for anything that would pack the fashionable society into their theatre. Not that they needed money, with the fortune that had been Helena's gift properly invested and soon to see vast returns.
Christine paced the length of her dinning room, wondering what was keeping Erik. He had gone out on an errand sometime before, and true to his manner, had not yet returned. She was loathe to allow him to disappear without her when the black moods still came upon him often, and the man she loved became a stranger before her eyes. She worried endlessly that one day he would need her hands to pull him out of the darkness and she would not be there, so often she allowed him no time alone. No amount of her love would ever reach some of the scars he carried, she knew that full well. She knew it when he cried in his sleep, when he pleaded with his mother not to leave him, and always she abandoned him to the cruelty of a gypsy freak show. All she could do in those moments was to draw him close to her and whisper that it would be okay.
Leaving her agitated pacing, Christine moved through the house, idly tidying up as she went, before plopping down on the living room couch. As she gazed over the room, it amazed her that all this belonged to her and Erik, their own private world. The sensation of being utterly at home was something she had never experienced in the vast homes the Chagny's owned.
At last, in answer to her frazzled nerves, the front door opened and Christine rushed towards it. Erik stood in the foyer, arms full of roses, looking utterly surprised that she had been awaiting him so anxiously. Christine smiled brightly at the red blooms and kissed him daintily on the cheek. "Love, you shouldn't have."
"Truly I should have. I finished Hades and Persephone this morning; the managers haven't even seen it and they're willing to pay a fortune for it. I'll put these in some water." He was about to walk away when her tiny fingers closed on his arm, halting him.
"Thank you Erik, for everything." The deep blue of her eyes seemed to consume him as he looked into those pools of absolute love and understanding. She stood on tiptoe to kiss him once again, allowing he lips to travel over his jaw line to playfully nip at his ear.
"Christine, you're adorable." She followed behind him to select the vase into which the roses would go, and where would be the perfect place to keep them. No sooner had the left the foyer, than the doorbell rang, calling Christine to it as Erik settled the flowers in the lager crystal vase. She opened the door without hesitation, assuming it to be Meg or her mother, who had been over so often in the last few days. The shock of the figure at the door nearly caused her to faint dead in her own hall. Raoul De Chagny stood on her stairs, as finely dressed as ever and leaning heavily on his cane, beside him was a large trunk.
"Raoul." Her voice came out as no more than a whisper, her body going rigged with the terror that had begun to consume her. God, what is he up to?
"Madame Daaé, I am hope I am not interrupting anything important, but I must beg your leave to speak with you about certain matters." His voice held none of the malice that seemed to have consumed him before, instead it resonated with a description of now broken, once proud man. It was in the moment that they stood there staring at one another, each not sure how to proceed, that Erik chose to make his way towards the living room and saw her staring out the door at the steps before her. He strode up beside her, a single rose in hand.
"Who is it, ma chér?" As he wrapped his arms around Christine's waist, his eyes encountered Raoul. The Viscount stood there nervously fidgeting with his cane, wilting under Erik's glare.
"May I come in? I bring no ill will; I simply have some business to settle." Erik simply nodded and somewhat relaxed the tightened grip he had on Christine's waist.
As Raoul entered he signaled for his man to bring in the trunk that was beside him. After seeing the fury in Erik's piercing eyes, the man quickly fulfilled his employer's orders and made a hasty retreat to the carriage. "These are all your personal effects, Madame, keep them, sell them, give them to charity, it matters not to me. It felt right that I should return them to you. I have come here only to ask forgiveness, to cleanse my soul." Erik still clung tightly to Christine, his eyes burning into the man before him. "May I speak to the Madame alone?"
He clearly addressed Erik; he had no wish to come to further violence with the man. "That is entirely up to the Madame, I have no part in this business." He released Christine who gave him a hesitant nod, causing Erik to turn on his heel and make his way into the darkness descending on the house as the evening settled in. Christine watched as the rose he had been carried crumpled in his now balled fist, the delicate petals streaming to the ground behind him. In a fury she turned her attention to Raoul.
"Well, out with it! Say what you have come here to say before you upset my fiancée even more."
"Fiancée?" His eyes strayed to the ring on her finger; Raoul could hardly believe that in such a short span of time they had become engaged. Not so short though, they have waited four years.
"I simply wanted to apologize to you Christine. I know I have done terrible things. It seemed as though something came apart inside me when my parents died, I could no longer control myself. I know that it is hardly an excuse. And well…" He left off, not quite sure he wanted to dredge the past entirely, to bring back that pain for both of them.
"What?" She questioned, her patience growing thin, Raoul knew that this would be the only time he could ever give voice to that thought which had nearly consumed him for years.
"It hurt Christine." She looked at him, her brows knitting in confusion. "It hurt to look in your eyes everyday and see him there." Her hand flew to her mouth, shocked that he had seen her secret thoughts, the thoughts that she had tried to hide from even herself. "I knew Christine that you longed for him, that you questioned your choice. I saw your love for him clear as day. It drove me mad some days that you yourself could not see that love until the choice was made. I am sorry that circumstances drove me to such behavior. Please grant me your forgiveness, and we will part ways forever."
Christine felt tears pricking her eyes; she never knew Raoul had suffered so. "You're forgiven, I am sorry things between us came to such an end."
Raoul reached up a hand to cup her face. "Farewell Christine, you will always hold a place in my heart." The once proud man replaced his hat, and leaning heavily on his cane made his way out of the door and Christine's life.
Watching him go, she felt a terrible sorrow clutch at her heart; she silently wished him all the happiness in the world. Quietly she closed the door behind him, sliding the bolt into place. Ignoring the trunk, she dashed upstairs in pursuit of Erik, and found him broodingly staring out the bedroom window, watching Raoul's carriage roll away. He had heard her hesitant steps at the door, but made no sign of it until he spoke. "What are you going to do with all that stuff?"
"It wasn't the foremost thought on my mind." She delicately approached him, and saw that he still held the cruelly treated, now petal less rose stem in his hand. She came to his side and wrapped he arms around his strong shoulders, tears glistened in his eyes.
His gaze traveled sadly to the piece of green in his hands. "I didn't mean to crush it, I lost my temper." His voice was so child like, brimming with sadness.
"It's alright, it was an accident." She cooed in his ear, trying to bring him back into the light of her love.
"He still wants you, doesn't he?"
"He did not say in so many words, but yes. It does not matter though; this is where my heart belongs." The tears from his cheeks left wet trails on her hands.
"I can't loose you again Christine." She tightened her grip as he spoke those words, willing him to stop hurting, to physically feel her emotions for him.
"You will never loose me Erik."
"Are you sure that this is what you want? That I am what you want?"
"Erik, don't talk like this." She commanded him, wishing to halt him before he spiraled again into a deep depression.
"Christine, I can never give you a normal life."
"Why would I want a normal life now? I've never had one before." Her desperate attempt at humor was lost on him.
"I hate being out in public. We'll never be social and we'll never have a lot of friends." She just stared at him, unable to believe that he would think that concerned her. "And I can't give you children. You know I am incapable of that."
Her tiny finger was put to his lips to silence him. "These things don't matter to me Erik, you matter to me." She pressed her lips to his, tasting his tears. "There is nothing for me with out you. I want to be your wife, more than anything in this world. Please, try to let go of the darkness of the past and look to the future, our future." She reached up to wipe his tears with her sleeve, gently removing his mask to dry both sides.
"You see I love all you not just one part. Dry your tears, because I am not going anywhere my angel." Erik's arms suddenly encircled her, pulling her tight against him, his face buried in her hair as he whispered his love for her. "I have a dinner to make, love."
He kissed her neck, his hands settling firmly on her waist. "Let's go out. I refuse to share you with the stove tonight, or the dishes for that matter."
She smiled and took the arm he offered. "I thought you hated being out in public?"
"I do, but you give me strength to face the world."
