Gerard was there when Erik got back, comfortably ensconced in Erik's armchair in the sitting-room, waiting for him.
"How was your week?" he asked politely. "I assume you've taken her back up?"
Erik groaned and threw himself onto the divan. "Yes. Oh, God, Gerard, I am doomed!"
"Doomed? How? What is wrong?"
He shook his head. "She's so innocent!" Erik exclaimed. "She's driving me crazy! I know you don't think I had far to go, but… I'm sure she must know by now how much I love her… but it's the wanting her that's the problem. I am glad I've sent her back up; maybe I can spend the afternoon smashing things, before I have to face her again this evening. I could use a bit of catharsis, a release from all this restraint."
Gerard chuckled. He remembered having felt the same way about Erik's mother before they'd gotten together. In fact, there was a spot in his old office behind the door that still held the indentation of his fist, from one timeafter he had watched her ballet practice and been so frustrated he had to hit something. Erik had an advantage, though, something he could offer his lady that Gerard couldn't have offered Beladova. "Why not just marry the girl, then?"
Erik groaned, sinking down onto the divan and hiding his masked face in his hands. "How can I possibly marry her, Gerard? I'm a beast, a thing without a face, who's spent his whole life entombed in the cellars. Add to that the fact that I have no name to give her, and it makes for a rather disastrous courtship. 'Christine, will you marry me? I know I look like a gargoyle and have no name, but want to marry me anyway? We could live quite happily down here in the ground like a pair of weasels!' Marry her?" he scoffed. "How can I marry her?"
Gerard hesitated an instant, and then nodded to himself. It was time. "You do have a name, Erik."
Erik shot him a sceptical glance. "Do I."
"You do." Gerard came and sat down next to his son and looked straight ahead. "Your name is Erik Carrière."
"You'd give me your name?" Erik asked quietly.
Gerard nodded. "Proudly." He turned his head to meet Erik's sea-grey eyes. "I'm your father."
Erik did not speak for so long that Gerard wondered if he was angry. Finally he huffed out a little laugh. "You didn't have to tell me, Father. I wouldn't have forced such a confession."
"You mean you knew?" Gerard asked, surprised.
Erik nodded. "I may have inherited the voice of an angel and the face of a demon, but when I look in the mirror I see your eyes looking back at me. I've known for years… but thank you for finally telling me. It means a lot."
"I'm sorry I waited so long," Gerard said. "I hope you aren't disappointed."
Erik scoffed. "Disappointed? No, Father. I'm the furthest thing from disappointed that you can imagine."
"So now you know what your name is, you can marry Christine."
Erik shrugged. "Except for that whole problem of 'face like a demon, entombed in the cellars,' perhaps."
"She doesn't appear to mind your face," Gerard pointed out.
"True," Erik admitted. He quirked the corner of his mouth in a self-deprecating smile. "It takes some getting-used to, though, even for her."
"Well, of course it would, Erik," Gerard exclaimed. "Have you seen it?"
For just a split second Gerard was afraid he had mortally offended his son—and then Erik let out a loud bark of laughter before he could stop himself, and Gerard smiled in relief.
"I've seen it," he admitted, his mood considerably lighter. "Not the best face for a tenor, is it?"
Gerard shook his head. "Not even for a baritone. Pity you don't sing bass; you could play Mephistopheles without makeup. Be the toast of the town."
Erik chuckled. "Perhaps I'll audition next season," he joked. He rose gracefully. "Heaven knows I'm going to have to find some way to support myself, if I am to provide for a wife."
Gerard sighed in relief. "You'll ask her, then?"
Erik nodded. "I'll ask her. Does she know? That you're my father, I mean."
Gerard nodded. "She knows."
There was a few moments of silence, and then Erik glanced back over to his father. "So you'll be at the Bal Masque this evening, then. What sort of costume shall you wear?"
"To be honest, I hadn't given it much thought," Gerard said, startled.
Erik grinned. "I have an idea, if you're interested."
"Oh?"
"You'd have to shave off your moustache, though."
"If the idea is good enough, I will."
"Come on, then," Erik said, rising. "I'll show you." He stopped short and glanced back. "And while we're at it, we can concoct a clever plan for Ledoux to capture me."
"Oh, yes? Any ideas?" Gerard asked, amused.
Erik nodded. "You might tell him, for starters, that I shall be attending the Bal Masque this evening."
Author's notes: I stuck a few lines from the stage plan into this chapter, that weren't in the film (the ones about "not a good face for a tenor... or even a baritone"). I so wish I could see "Phantom" on stage! I've seen some stills of one of the productions, and they look absolutely gorgeous.
If anyone is reading this who hasn't seen the version of Phantom that it's based on, you can find some pictures of these characters at www . charlesdance . co . uk (take out the spaces). Then click on "stalls" and scroll down to "Phantom of the Opera." There are some beautiful photos there, of Erik, Christine, and Gerard.
