A/N: "Confessions" is undergoing a serious rewriting. Forgive the confusion if there is any screwups in the plot, just give me time. I wasn't pleased with the way it was going, so it made it impossible for me to continue writing when it was so bad. Please forgive the inconvenience and keep giving awesome reviews!
For all you fluff-lovers, this should please you. Nice little sweet ending, too. For all you angst wanters, well,..just wait a few more chapters, its comin i promise. It's more of a filler, but don't hold it against me since I haven't had any fillers yet! It's a little too happy-go lucky for me, but oh well, I wanted to give the couple a little moment of happiness before Raoul starts his idiotic plan. Oh, and by the way, I made a slliighhht change to Christine's character...from now on, her eyes are blue. I don't know why I didn't do it to begin with, but I like her with blue eyes better. Her hair is still brown. Oh and another thing, at one point in this chapter, he tells Christine to meet him at the Café Louis-Philippe, and I didn't actually make that up, there actually IS a café by that name in Paris, so I decided to use it. Anyhow, thanks for all the new reviewers I've gotten, I really love to read them. Thanks yall guys (wow, im country), i really appreciate the support.
14. A Normal Man, A Normal Life
That morning, Christine was granted the pleasure of waking up in Erik's arms. She sighed in contentment as she finally came out of unconsciousness, and felt Erik's warm body beneath her, relaxed and at ease. She gave a soft smile as she realized he was still asleep, which was a surprise since he almost always woke before the opera even began moving about, and that was only when he slept at all. His chest moved up and down in a slow, steady rhythm, his arms wrapped protectively around Christine's naked waist.
She studied his face, and felt tears well up in her eyes as she realized that this was the first time, that Christine knew of anyhow, that Erik looked completely peaceful. There was even a small smile playing across his lips. His head fell to the right, blocking out every bit of disfiguration that tainted his flawless features. He looked like, Christine thought with amusement, a real angel. Gone were the lines of stress that so often littered the corners of his eyes and brow, and in their place was nothing but a gentle, almost child-like innocence that seemed to radiate off of him. Christine continued to study him, forever etchinginto her memory the feel of peace and contentment in the way he breathed, the way his mouth opened slightly with each exhalation. Christine pulled herself up towards his face, and lightly kissed his forehead, his cheek, the corner of his mouth; every piece of skin Christine had access to was sprinkled with light, feathery kisses. She gave another sigh before relaxing against his chest, feeling as if she were in heaven. This was the man she was destined to be with, as much as she felt she didn't deserve him. Would he have even noticed her if he had been born completely flawless, thoroughly barren of any disfigurement? Or would he go off and become rich off his music, and marry the most beautiful woman in all of France? Christine felt a pain in her heart as she realized how easily her angel could be taken away from her, if ever his genius were acknowledged.
Christine gasped as salty tears started to trek their way down her cheeks, and she hastily swept them away before they touched Erik's chest. She didn't want him to think she was upset, because God knows she wasn't. Too late. She felt Erik shift beneath her, and she felt his eyes studying her as she tried to lie still. She could feel the questions coming on, so she sat up to stare into his emerald eyes. His eyes were still partly glazed from sleep, and he gave a light groan as he tried to push himself into a sitting position. Christine felt a giggle rising within her, and she had to stifle the laugh to save herself from Erik's anger. He just seemed so,. . .real! An ordinary man, with an ordinary home, with his ordinary wife. Except. . .she wasn't his wife. She frowned as this realization struck her like a brick in the face. But her frown was quickly replaced by a blush as she felt Erik's hand running slowly up her back in a teasingly pleasurable pattern, pressing down lightly hereor there, soft as an angel's kiss .
Suddenly she felt very self-concious at her current state, which was dressed in a simple creme nightgown, despite the fact that she had just shared a bed with him in the same state. Erik seemed to sense her unease, and stopped his seductive fondling.
"Christine, is something wrong?" His voice was different. There was no anger hidden behind it, no tinge of distrust, not even a hint of apprehension which usually coated every word he spoke. It was just the way Erik had always spoken, Christine had never questioned it. But now, there was nothing in his voice but warm, caring tenderness. She silently cursed herself for making him worry. She shook her head, trying to make him believe she was fine.
"No, Erik, it's just. . ." She looked away, not sure how to word it. She wanted to be Erik's wife, she knew that much, but she didn't want to take away her chances of getting to be his by frightening him away with her declarations of longing for it. She sighed, realizing she would have to wait. It would be worth it end the end, she decided. She turned back to him, briefly stunned when she noticed he had replaced his mask. She hadn't even felt him stir! Erik was the one man who never ceased to amaze her. Oh, how she wanted to marry this man, what she wouldn't give to be able to go into town, her arm locked with his, and perhaps even holding a baby in her other arm. They could have a family! But now was not the time for discussion about their futures, she had determined that, so instead she let an authentic yet slightly sad smile light up her features.
"Erik, would you like some breakfast?" Erik looked at her in confusion, eyebrow slightly quirked, and his green eyes bore into hers as if trying to discover her true motives. Her smile fell.
"Erik, I'm not good at many things, but cooking is one thing I can do. Just allow me to make you breakfast, you need to eat." There was a slight playfulness in her voice, and she poked him lightly in the rib as if to prove her point. He gave a soft smile, and Christine felt her body go limp under the mere beauty of such a simple action. Erik sensed this as well, and smiled at the way she shivered as he once again began to draw a line from the bottom of her back to the space between her shoulder blades, taking extra care to tease every inch of skin.
Christine's breath caught as she leaned in to kiss him, but he surprisingly raised a finger to her lips to stop her.
"Breakfast would be wonderful," he said, a slight smirk pasted across his perfect lips. Christine slapped his shoulder lightly in fake annoyance before letting out a girlish giggle, the likes of which she hadn't heard come out of her mouth in over five months. She climbed out of thebed, and walked over to her bureau and fished through it for something to wear. She was aware of Erik's eyes upon her barely-clothed form, but she decided it would be more torture to him to ignore his gaze than to return it with her own hungry eyes. Smirking, she grabbed a white chemise, corset, and deep-green evening dress, and went to the bathroom to change, never once looking back at Erik.
She studied her reflection in the mirror, and smiled broadly at the bright-eyed, glowing-faced girl staring back at her. She slipped into her chemise and tied her corset, having difficulty with the top ties but finally managing it after several attempts, not willing to risk what would happen if she asked Erik for help. Blushing, she slipped into her evening dress, and was mildly surprised at the way it fit her perfectly, down to the last seam. It was slightly low-cut at the collar, but not enough to be indecent, with short sleeves trimmed with black lace. The bottom of the bodice was lined with small crystal beads, making Christine's eyes sparkle when the light shone on them.
She ran a hand over the silk overskirts, admiring the deep green tones of the beautiful dress. The dress seemed to bring out her best features, making her hair seem a deeper brown and making her ocean-blue eyes swirl with bits of green. Her ivory skin looked as smooth and delicate as porcelain; her appearance so flawless she seemed almost breakable, as if someone so beautiful could not be real. Her pink lips were fuller than they had been, and her hips and breasts seemed more filled out than she remembered. When had this happened? Christine asked herself. Had she really not noticed how much she had changed? Or maybe this dress was just another one of Erik's magic tricks. She wouldn't doubt it; that man was truly a work of God.
She heard shuffling from the other side of the room, and determined that Erik had finally decided to get out of bed. With a glowing smile adorning her features, she emerged from the bathroom, and saw Erik standing by the bed, wearingthe same clothes from the night before: his ruffled white cotton shirt, open at the chest, and lounging trousers that Christine was really starting to adore. He was stooped over retrieving his cloak from the floor, and Christine had to fight the urge to just stand there and watch him.
She let her eyes trail over him, before gliding over to her bureau to retrieve one of the white ribbons laying on its surface. She picked up the brush, and began running it through her curls until she noticed the shuffling had stopped. She paused, turning around to see what had disturbed Erik. He was looking at her in awe, as if it was the first time he had ever seen her. Christine shuffled uncomfortably under his gaze, not sure what she was expected to say. Finally, he closed his mouth and another small smile went across it. Christine almost fainted.
"You're. . .beautiful, Christine," he choked out, the love and admiration nearly pouring from his eyes. Christine smiled wistfully at him, still unable to take away the thought that even though Erik had given her his heart, had showered her with soothing words of love and protection, he still was not hers, and she was not his. They were not each others'. She turned from him so he wouldn't see the yearning playing across her face, and once again began to brush out her wild mane of curls.
Trying to change the subject, she took on a light air of easiness as she inquired about breakfast.
"So, what would you like to eat for breakfast, Erik?" There was silence as he walked over to stand behind her and gently pried the brush from her fingers. He began brushing out the knots and tangles, as gently and carefully as possible. Christine closed her eyes while he brushed, sighing as his fingers accidentally brushed against her exposed neck. When he was finished, he took the ribbon from her other hand and swept her brown locks into a loose ribbon at the nape of her neck. He leaned over her neck, rubbing his hands down her shoulders and down to her forearms.
Christine gave a quiet moan, and Erik grinned against her neck as he placed a chaste kiss to the delicate flesh. Oh, how he relished this new freedom. Never had he acted so. . .sinfully! He reluctantly backed away and let her racing heart slow down, and when she seemed relaxed, he answered her.
"Well at the moment my dear, I don't believe I have anything for you to cook." Christine frowned, she obviously was very intent on cooking that morning.
"Well, I can go into town to buy some things to cook, if you would like." Erik shook his head, walking towards the corner of the room to pick up Christine's robe. He smiled secretly as memories of his own hands removing the robe from her shoulders flooded through his mind, but he forced himself to focus on the matters at hand.
"You can't go out Christine, the Vicomte will find you." Christine narrowed her eyes and let her brow furrow in anger. How dare he tell her what to do!
"I'm not a child!" She fought the urge to stomp her foot in anger, which would completely prove her accusation false.
"And plus," she began again, her voice coated with anger, "Raoul's given up. You heard what he said as well as I." Erik shook his head and smiled pitifully, as if he knew something she didn't. This was really aggravating.
"Come, Christine, do not be so simple-minded. He is a head-strong boy, he would not give up that easy." Christine was fuming now. How dare he talk like that? Simple-minded? What did he know?
"Erik! How dare you insult me! You're more stubborn than I will ever be, or Raoul for that matter! I only wish to go out and buy food for breakfast, no one will recognize me if I keep to myself. Besides, who would be out this early anyway? You can't keep me locked up here forever, you know." This seemed to strike a chord in Erik's heart. Not that she had insulted him, but that she couldn't stay there forever. Angels didn't belong in Hell's dungeons. He then decided: that day, he would let Christine go out into town, while he took a visit to the bank where he kept all the money he had earned over the years. He would send a letter to the servants and Madame Giry, ordering for the house to be prepared for him and his 'wife', and then he would tell Christine that afternoon that they were going to be moving to Rome.
He knew she would love it; the skies so clear year-round and the lush grass and oceans the same as her homeland. It was where an angel belonged. He nodded, more to himself than her, before turning to face Christine.
"You're right, my love, you can go out into town. I have business to attend to anyhow." Christine's face lit up as he took her arm and placed it in the crook of his elbow, before leading her towards the back entrance of his home. She seemed surprised that this entrance was here, and started complaining about the fact that she could have gone out this entrance when he had ordered her to leave, and instead had ruined her perfectly good wedding dress by going through the gate. Her steps faltered as she said these words, realizing she had slipped up in her attempt to forego mentioning marriage.
Erik ignored it however, deciding to have a little fun teasing Christine. They walked on in silence, no sounds in the narrow passage besides the sound of their own footsteps. The passage seemed to grow darker as they walked on, and Christine squeezed the sleeve of Erik's shirt as they entered into complete darkness. Her childish fear of the dark was rising in her chest, making her stomach clench and her breathe shorten as she walked closer to Erik.
"Erik, are you sure this is the right way?" She asked, completely terrified. He gave a light scoff, before stopping in the passage to bring Christine underneath his cloak and place his arm around her trembling shoulders. She seemed to calm a bit, and he continued walking.
"My dear, I am the great 'Phantom of the Opera', do you not recall? Of course I know where I am going." And sure enough, five minutes later, Erik pressed a lever in the side of the wall, which swung open to reveal civilization. They stepped out into the haziness of early morning in Paris, and Christine was surprised that she had to squint in the dim light.
"Erik, why can't I see, when it's not even midday yet? Surely the sun isn't strong yet?" She felt once more like an inquisitive child, and looked up to Erik as if he were her mentor. In a way, he had been.
"Your eyes are used to the darkness. It's quite natural for your eyes to take some time to adjust. Relax, it will fade in a moment." And gradually, Paris started to come into focus, and she could clearly see that they were right in the middle of the town square, standing in an alley fairly populated with street vendors and early morning shoppers.
Christine whirled around in shock to find an old abandoned warehouse, devoid of any signs of the passage that they had just exited through. She turned to Erik, expecting an explanation. He smiled down at her. Christine had a feeling she'd never get tired of those smiles, but it depressed her to think that he only smiled for her.
"That passage led all the way from the Opera house to this building, it was a passage that took some time to build, but I found it necessary so I could go about my shopping without as many people seeing me. See, look," And with one finger, he traced a very thin line on the wall that would never be found except by those who knew where it was.
Christine was once again in awe of his genius. Looking up at him with a smile on her face, she planted a small kiss on his lips before taking his hand and leading him towards the vendors. He walked with her until she reached a shop selling meats and dairy, and he kissed her lightly on the cheek before telling her he would be in the business district for about three hours, and that he would meet her at the 'Café Louis-Philippe' when he was done. She nodded in agreement, then went to shopping. Erik handed her a handful of francs before walking off towards the business district.
XxXxXx
Erik walked into the dimly-lit bank, frowning in disgust at the repulsive smell of mildew and soap. He wasn't sure why the room smelled like it did, but since the question would be slightly awkward to ask, he decided to let it go. He walked up to the wooden desk, and waited for the haughty receptionist to quit pretending he wasn't there. It was a game of hers, to show her utter dislike for his presence.
He had never done anything to irk her, he was sure of that, besides possibly being a little too reclusive when she had tried to start a conversation. He wasn't the talkative type, it wasn't his fault. Besides, it had been almost two years since he had even been to this place; why couldn't she just get over it?
He tapped his knuckles against the desk impatiently, letting out a little sigh every time he saw her brow furrow in aggravation behind the heavy novel she was attempting to immerse herself in. Deciding she wasn't giving up anytime soon, he cut to the chase.
"I have come to make a withdrawal from my account. I would say I need about. . . 400 francs." Finally, her fingers collapsed against the pages, and she looked up at him with stony eyes, her eyes glued to his mask.
"Yes, sir, and what is your account number?"
He told her, and she slowly retrieved his key from the back. He thanked her politely, which she responded to by muttering rude phrases and shuffling back to her seat.
He walked to his box, and after inserting the key, withdrew four elastic-tied stacks of francs from the enormous pile filling his box. Stuffing it in his cloak, he walked towards the door. Having a second thought, he turned back towards the grumpy woman sitting at the desk.
"You know, you really shouldn't be so negative all the time. It's very unattractive." Savoring the shocked look on the woman's face, he left the bank, and walked a ways towards the post office. After purchasing a stamp and envelope, he stuffed the francs inside, attaching a note that informed all the servants that they were once again under his management, and that they were ordered to prepare the house for him and Christine. They would be up in a week's time, and they were to be given fifty francs extra if their efforts were sufficient. Satisfied that he had accomplished something, he walked down the street, but stopped mid-stride when he spotted Christine. She was inside a bridal store directly to his left, and Erik found himself extremely curious as to what she was doing. Slipping inside the store, he hid in a dingy corner and watched Christine.
XxXxXx
Satisfied she had purchased enough food for a sufficient breakfast, she began to walk the square. She still had at least twenty francs left, perhaps she could purchase something for Erik. She was thinking about going into Dubois's to purchase him a new cloak, until her eye came in contact with the beautiful bridal gown in the window of Mureau's Bridal Shop. The familiar longing once again welling within her, she couldn't fight the urge to slip inside and look around. What would it hurt?
She opened the door, and jumped as the bell chimed above her head. Mon Dieu, what am I so frightened of?
She walked over to a corner of the store, and gave a small smile as she brushed her hand over the smooth silks and cotton fabrics of the wedding dresses. Some were beautiful, some absolutely atrocious, but all of them had the same effect on Christine: reminding her that she was not, and possibly would never be, married to Erik. What if he didn't want a wife? Wouldn't he have suggested it before then if he did?
Well, of course he had suggested it three months before, right after Don Juan, while thrusting the wedding dress in her hands, but that was while he was in a blind rage. Now, things were different.
She sighed, and raising her head from the fabric, her eye caught something swiftly moving into the corner, and Christine strained her eyes to see what the thing was. Perhaps she was being followed! Christine felt a fear well within her throat, but shook her head as if to rid the thought from her head. She was being foolish. Summoning her courage, she began to walk slowly towards the corner, all the while straining to see in the dimly lit room. It suddenly hit her that she was the only customer. Why wasn't anyone there? Would anyone hear her if she screamed?
She was close now. She could see a shape shuffling about in the corner. She reached her hand through the darkness.. .she was almost there. . .and touched-. . .the wall. There was nothing there. Christine stood there, with her arm stretched into the shadows, for a good ten seconds, panic making its way back into her chest. What if the person had snuck behind her? Yes! She could hear footsteps behind her, loud, clicking shoes that echoed when they stepped on the wood floor. Preparing for a gun to be pressed into her back or a rope to be wrapped around her neck, shesqueezed her eyes shut and waited for the killer. It never crossed her mind how absolutely preposterous it was for a murderer to be lurking around, waiting for his victim in a bridal shop.
Someone tapped her on the shoulder and she jumped two feet into the air. Whirling around to face 'the murderer', she found herself face to face with a short, plump, grey haired woman with large glasses that magnified her eyes, making them seem five times bigger than they actually were. She was looking at Christine like she was a bit off her rocker, and Christine couldn't really blame her. She studied the woman as she caught her breath, and noticed with amusement that the woman dressed impeccably horrendous, yet had the air of someone who thought otherwise.
Christine wondered if this was what Carlotta would look like at age sixty. She had about ten rows of different sizes of gaudy beads handing around her neck, looking like they might strangle her if she made any sudden movements. She wore a bright green, elaborate dress that looked like it had been ripped straight off of a production poster for a traveling circus. Christine struggled to keep the smile off her face, and gave a small curtsy to the stout woman.
The woman continued to stare, as if Christine were some kind of specimen in a science lab. Finally, the strange woman broke the silence.
"Do you need help finding anything, deary? Do you need to purchase a wedding gown?" Christine shook her head in anguish, wishing she could give a different answer.
"I don't think. . .It's just. . I don't really know if he's ready to marry yet. . .I wish he was, but I don't want to ask if he's not. It's awkward." The woman nodded in kind understanding while the shadow in the corner stood, watching with increasing amusement as his love fumbled over words, trying to say that she wanted to marry him. This was by far the most fun he had had in eavesdropping in a long while.
Finally, he decided to break the silence. Slipping from the shadows, he gracefully slid next to Christine, nearly scaring the wit's out of her. Seeing him standing there, her face paled, before turning hastily turning a deep pink. Erik threaded his arm through hers, staring down at her with a smooth smile gracing his lips. She looked utterly ready to puke.
"Oh, Erik, I had no idea you would be here. Why did you-. . .Why would you? How could you eavesdrop like that? What did you hear? Oh God Erik, this isn't how I wanted you to find out-. . ."
"We will be back tomorrow to pick out Christine's wedding dress and ring." Erik eyes were trained seriously on the short woman in front of them, purposely ignoring Christine's astonished gasp, and noticed them woman was gawking at Erik like he had materialized out of thin air. Which, in a way, he did.
Christine looked at Erik in shock, but then a wide smile broke out over her face and she leaned over to kiss him on the cheek.
"Erik, do you mean it? Or are you just doing this to make me stop moping about?"
He looked down at her, and she noticed his face had taken on a seriousness she wasn't expecting. Fearing the worst, Christine's face paled and she backed away from his side. "Oh, if you don't want to marry me, then you don't have to. I just figured since, well, never mind, we can go back now if you want. . ."
And then he got on his knees, and pulled out the engagement ring from behind his back.
XxXxXx AHHHH the fluffiness! Lol