Chapter 21 – Stories in the Night.

Christine's rehearsal with Meg and Byron went reasonably well. They had been through the scenes involving Byron, Meg and herself. All the way through the rehearsals Byron and Meg seemed to be getting closer, laughing and talking. Christine had a suspicion they would end up feeling something for each other. She wanted Meg to be happy, as she was her best friend and she deserved happiness.

She had remembered Erik's invitation to come and see him for music practice; however she did not feel like singing as she had already rehearsed but it would probably be best to do some practice. Faust was a difficult piece indeed, and Christine knew somehow that Erik really wanted her to excel in this one. Faust was an important piece and very well known in the opera world. She knew that this was her chance to shine.

She returned to her room and looked hesitantly at the mirror, wondering if she wanted to go down for a singing lesson. Still, she wanted to see Erik and so she would have to be back in time for supper.

She decided not to go down Erik's shortcut because of the bad experience she had the last time she went down on it. Even with the new railings there she did not feel entirely safe.After deciding this, she opened up the mirror and walked down the gloomy pathway.

"Porsche...?" Christine could just about see two lamp like eyes in the darkness of the passageway. The rest of the cat could hardly been seen as she was shrouded by the surroundings. Christine could just make out the movements of the cat. She had started plodding down the dark passage.

Christine clicked her fingers, but the candles in the passageway did not light up as they had done previously. She tried again a few times but it didn't work. She tried a few times more and it still did not work.

It worked before. Why does it not now? Oh, this means I will have to walk in the dark.

From a distance she heard a faint 'meow' from Porsche and so she followed the sound. She placed her hands against the cold brick wall to guide her in the blackness because her eyes were not adjusting but she could hear a lot better and so she just followed her ears.

She continued walking down the passageways, following the sound of the loud 'Meows' that echoed from in front of her. It seemed to take forever to walk to where the boat should be. As she neared the end of the passageway she saw light glimmering in front of her. She began to quicken her pace almost to a jog, unaware of the wet floor beneath her feet. One foot slipped out from underneath her and she fell to the ground, landing on her hip.

"Aargh!" She cried in pain. Her ankle hurt as well as her hip, it was agony.

If only the lamps had ignited!

She tried to get up, but she was in too much pain to put any weight on her ankle. "OW!" she breathed in through clenched teeth making a hissing noise.

It hurts too much! I can't get up! She thought despairingly.

She looked ahead of her to see that Porsche had gone. Sighing, she sat still massaging her ankle, which was still causing her a considerable amount of pain.

-

Erik was in the library muttering to himself about what Christine would practice on.

"She was good in rehearsals but she needs to show more compassion as Margarita. Hmmm, we rehearsed two of the main songs but I suppose we could go over them again."

Porsche jumped into his lap, meowing like crazy and cutting his musings short. "Porsche, what is it? Where is Christine?"

The cat leaped out off his lap and lifted her front paw indicating the door. Erik looked puzzled. "She is outside?" This question seemed to enrage the cat slightly, for she rose up on her hind legs like a meerkat for a brief second before trotting out of the door, her meow's growing louder and louder.

The colour drained from his face, as he feared what the cat was trying to tell him…

Dead? Or Injured? Curse it! I should have gone to collect her myself!

He sprinted for the boat in the lake and began rowing frantically. Porsche plodded around the ledges at the side.

He got to the other side. Still fearing for Christine, he leaped out of the boat and followed Porsche and almost immediately he saw Christine lying in the dark, pale and still. She had passed out from the cold and the pain. Erik checked her breathing. She was fine but she needed examining properly. He scooped her up gently and headed back towards the boat.

He placed her in the swan bed and pulled the duvet over her, trying to keep her warm. Some of the colour had returned to her face but he would leave her until she awoke. Porsche was curled up beside Christine watching her with affection. Erik reached for the door when he heard Christine mumble.

"E – Erik?"

Erik rushed over to her. "Yes, Christine I'm here. I'm here!"

Her eyes fluttered open to meet his sparkling blue eyes which were filled with worry.

"My, ankle." She breathed in sharply. "It hurts."

Erik took a look at her ankle, and gently began moving it from side to side. It was a slight purple colour from bruising and he pressed down to feel the bone.

"Ahhh!" Christine moaned. "Erik!"

"I'm sorry, Christine, I'm sorry... Does it hurt if I move it?"

"No." She whispered tearfully, pain laced in her voice. "Just if I put pressure on it."

"Well it is not broken. You have merely sprained it. It's a good thing that you are not a dancer."

"I suppose so." She replied, a little more normally.

"Wait here, I will go and fetch a damp cloth. The cold should help ease the swelling. Hopefully by morning it will be a lot better but you should not try to walk." He said calmly.

With a swish of his cape he was out of the door. Christine laid her head down trying to get comfortable but not move around too much for her ankle hurt still. Erik strode back in with a damp cloth and some bandages. He sat down on the end of the bed, gently pulling her ankle to rest on his lap.

"This is going to be cold." He warned, as he wrapped the damp cloth around her ankle. It was freezing but it did the trick. It did feel soothing. Erik held it in place while he wrapped the bandages around it, securing it in place. "There we go. Now is there anywhere else that hurts?"

Christine went red. Her left hip still hurt where it had hit the cold stone floor.

Do I want him to look? It's embarrassing but it hurts as much as my ankle did. Maybe it would be best for him to look at it.

"My hip." She replied. "I fell on my left side when I fell over."

Erik swallowed hard. "Do you want me to take a look or would you rather I didn't?"

"It's alright. I would rather get it checked out." She replied sheepishly.

"Then, please roll over onto your right side." He said slowly.

Christine did as he asked and rolled over.

Erik took the bottom of her skirt and pulled it slowly up towards her hip. Her legs were so slender, young and soft. He savoured the sight as it reminded him how lucky he was.

Christine had closed her eyes, loving the way his fingers glided so softly. She giggled. "Erik, that tickles!"

Erik smiled as he lifted her dress off her thigh but it faded when he saw the huge purple and green bruise. He pressed on it lightly; again Christine made a hissing sound through clenched teeth.

"This is simply bruised. It should disappear within a day or two." He stated, before pulling the dress back down to cover her leg.

"So what exactly happened? Why didn't you light the torches?"

"I tried to click my fingers and it didn't work, so I followed the cat down the passage way, and slipped as I was running towards the light." She took in a breath. "And I passed out after I realized that Porsche had gone."

"You must not have clicked loud enough. This is my fault; I should have come to collect you. My dear Christine I am so sorry." He said softly.

"It's alright." She replied stroking his cheek gently. "Don't blame yourself."

"You will have to stay off your feet for a few hours. You should be better by morning."

"But I have to go to dinner. If I keep disappearing, people will start to say something." Christine replied, slightly worried.

"Do not worry. I will write a letter to Antoinette explaining your absence from supper. It just means you will have to stay here tonight." He smiled at her.

Christine couldn't help but feel slightly glad about staying with Erik. She smiled back in response. He started to get up.

"Erik, will you lie down with me? Please, I do not wish to be alone." She almost pleaded.

"As you wish, but will you promise me that you will not leave your bed?" He asked.

She nodded. Erik lay down beside her and took her hand in his and gave it a slight comforting squeeze.

"This reminds me of the time when I was about 6 years old. I came down with influenza. I was so scared of being left alone that I asked my father to come and stay with me. He stayed and he would read to me and play his violin. He never left my side until I had fallen asleep." Christine sighed with a smile.

Erik propped himself up on his elbow. "Tell me about your father." He asked softly. "You know about me and part of my childhood but I have realized how little I know about you in your younger days."

Christine looked at him. His eyes told her that he wanted to know what her father was like. He had no fond memories of his parents and he had only known his mother for 8 years until she had betrayed him and sold him to the circus. Maybe it would be a good thing for him to know what her childhood had been like.

She looked up at the ceiling not really knowing where to begin, but she started anyway.

"Well, I only really knew my father, as my mother died when I was born. I was born in Sweden in a little village. My father was a great violinist who played for all sorts of people. I was looked after by a nanny when my father was away. He used to take me for picnics. He would always spend as much time as he could with me but he had to earn a living, and he did that by playing for famous people or in concerts." She took a breath.

"We were happy for many years but he became ill and so we had to leave Sweden and come to Paris where he could be treated. I was around seven years old at the time. His illness continued to get worse no matter what treatment was given to him. Eventually he became so bad that the doctors had to have him put into isolation. I was only allowed to visit him once a week and so I would go in on a Sunday. I would read to him, tell him stories and about events that had happened in the week." Christine paused trying desperately to fight the tears, retelling memories of her childhood was painful for her as she had been so close to her father.

"He was asleep mostly. I never knew if he could hear me or not but I spoke to him anyway. Then about eight weeks before he died, he introduced me to a great friend of his, who he had met when performing in an opera house once. It was Antoinette Giry." Christine paused for a bit and continued with difficulty.

"I remember, before I entered the room where I first met Antoinette, the conversation they had between them. They didn't know I had heard anything but it will stick in my mind for as long as I live…"

-

Christine was 7 years of age. She had come to visit her father. But as she approached the door, she heard two voices, one belonging to her father and the other belonging to a woman."

"Antoinette. Thank you for coming to see me. There is something very important that I must ask you." Gustav whispered hoarsely.

"Is it any news from the doctor?" The woman who Gustav had identified as Antoinette asked.

"No, there is no other news from the doctor but I know I do not have much longer left on earth, and that is why I have asked you to come." He coughed quietly. "To ask, that when the time comes, will you look after Christine for me?"

There was a slight almost silent gasp. "You mean become her legal guardian?"

"Yes, there is no one else who I trust, and I know she will be in good hands. You have a daughter the same age don't you?"

"Yes I do. I'm sure young Christine would be company for little Megan. But yes, of course I will take care of her. She can come to live with me and Meg at the Opera Populaire."

"I would be so very grateful. I can no longer take care of her and she will need someone like you to be there for her as she grows. Are you sure it will be alright?"

"Yes, of course I'm sure; you have been a great friend to me Gustav. It will be my pleasure to look after Christine."

"She should be arriving anytime soon. I will explain the situation to her."

"Yes, alright, would you like me to stay?"

"Yes, then Christine can at least meet you."

Christine decided that this would be the right time to enter the room and join them. Antoinette seemed like a nice lady. She did not allow the knowledge that her father would not live much longer to show on her face or affect her body language in any way.

-

"So that's when I met Antoinette. Even though I already knew what was going on. They didn't know that I knew." Christine continued.

"I was later on introduced to Meg and we became friends. About a week before my father died he told me he would send me the angel of music and for years I believed that I heard him before going to sleep and I now realize that it was you. If I hadn't found the passageway, I would probably still believe that there was a real angel of music." Christine finished.

Erik looked away. "I was eventually going to tell you. I didn't really know how you would react if you knew that your angel of music was indeed the Phantom of the Opera, about whom you have heard so many horrendous stories." He said sadly.

"I didn't really think there was a ghost. I never really believed it." Christine said.

"Not even when the backdrop fell and there could be no rational explanation for it?" Erik asked.

"I just assumed that it had not been tied properly." Her face lifted slightly. "I wouldn't really have cared if Carlotta had suffered an accident."

Erik smiled. But it faded quickly. "I couldn't help but notice that you were struggling to tell me about your father. Maybe I shouldn't have asked."

"It was only fair that you knew as much about me and my life growing up as I know about yours, but of course your childhood was worse than mine. It is understandable that you didn't want to tell me everything. I can only imagine what it was like for you." She whispered.

Erik leant forward to meet her lips and enveloped her in a passionate embrace. "Why are you so understanding?" He smiled before wrapping his arms around her tightly. Christine rested her head on his shoulder.

"Because I'm human." She replied. "Just like you."

Erik rocked her back and forth, comforting her. "You should try to rest for a while; I will go and make you some supper."

"Erik?" She mumbled into his shoulder. "Will you sleep in here with me tonight?"

"Yes of course I will." He replied, hoping she would ask. "But right now, you need some energy from food to keep you going. I won't be long. I promise. But what would you like to eat?"

"Anything, I'm rather hungry."

"How does chicken stew sound?"

"Lovely." She replied sleepily.

"It will be about an hour to an hour and a half. Is that alright?"

"Mmmmmn." She groaned.

Erik took that as a yes, and gently laid her head down to rest on the pillow.

He gave her a swift kiss on the cheek, before sweeping out of the room and going toward the kitchen. It took him around 10 minutes to prepare all the necessary ingredients and leave the stew to boil.

I know there is something else that needs doing. Ah yes, informing Madame Giry about Christine.

He sat down and began to write the letter.

Antoinette,

I am writing to inform you of Christine's absence for this evening and tonight, and possibly tomorrow morning and afternoon.

On her way down to visit me, Christine had a minor accident which has resulted in a sprained ankle and a bruised left hip. I have advised her to not attempt to walk as her ankle needs at least a day maybe two to heal. She will stay with me tonight and I have tended to the bruising in both places.

I will write informing you if anything else occurs.

Erik.

He waited until the stew was done, poured some into a bowl and headed for the bedroom to find that Christine was fast asleep.

I'll leave the stew for when she wakes up. I don't want to disturb her.

With that he placed the stew back into the pot before going to sit at the piano, to continue composing some more of his 'Don Juan'. The sound echoed through the lair, but was inaudible to anyone except, Erik, Christine and Porsche.