It had turned dark outside. Hours had gone by since the outrage drifting from the library. The servants had known better than to go and see what had happened, and kept to themselves. Céline had been asking for maman for hours, claiming she had learned her lesson and was a good girl again, but had found only Nicole to play with. On the floor of the library Erik and Christine sat, him leaning against the large chair that still cradled his book, her sitting on his lap seeking comfort, seeking to comfort him, kissing away all sorrow and tears that the years of separation had caused. The fire was dying now that none of the servants had refueled it, and the room was growing increasingly dark and gloomy.
"You must be cold."
His voice was calm and caring now, as it had been whilst nursing her back to health. Upon gripping her trembling hands, he found them icy indeed. He got up, carefully lifting her with him.
"Come, we must get you to a fire. If I know Franca she will have started a blaze in your chambers." He guided her up the stairs, his step much more solid now than hers, not paying attention to the gleaming looks his servants were exchanging behind them.
In the hallway she was met by galloping footsteps. "Maman! I am good now!"
"Are you indeed my sweet?"
The girl nodded forcefully. "Very good, Nicole say so!"
Nicole was right behind her, nodding in agreement. "She even sorted out her toys, Madame!"
Christine smiled. "Oh, that calls for an extra long story before bedtime then!"
Céline cried with pleasure before curiously turning to Erik. "Monsieur Erik, when you will come sing again? I like it so when you sing for me!"
Erik and Christine exchanged glances, him wondering when she had mentioned his name to the child and her wondering when he had sung to her.
"Do you indeed? Well then, I suppose that depends on how quick you can get to your bed, ma petite."
Filled with joy Céline hobbled off again to change. As Christine turned she saw Erik gleaming, still beside her.
"I believe I have a recital to perform, I beg you will excuse me?"
Christine pulled him closer to her. "Very well, I will let you be. But only if you promise to return to me for dinner."
He kissed her hand courteously. "My chambers at eight, shall we say?"
As she walked to her room, she met Franca in the hallway. " Franca, dinner will be had at eight, in the Maestro's chambers. And I need you to help me dress, if you will."
For the first time, Franca did not mind at all hearing Christine talk as were she lady of the house.
A little before eight she arrived at his chambers, finding the table once more impressively set. She smiled, knowing this soiree would be so different from their previous arrangement. She noticed Erik had not yet arrived, and presumed him still to be dressing. Humming to herself she wandered over to the balcony doors, dreaming away at the mirroring city lights. The rain seemed to have past its worst, and the evening sky was clearing into a lovely pink.
"Are my ears cruelly deceiving me, or is that a song escaping your lips, ma chère?"
Before she could turn around she already felt his strong arms around her, planting a soft kiss behind her ear. As she closed her eyes, taking in the sweet sensation of his embrace, she felt him carefully pulling the pins from her hair, until her dark curls had all tangled down her back again in their unruly manner. He ran his hands through them, modeling them.
"There. The final touch to a most perfect appearance."
She was relieved to hear such joy and content in his voice. She had learned him to have a very pleasing sense of humor these last weeks, and she preferred it greatly to his sudden outbursts of anger. She turned around at him.
"Are MY ears deceiving me or is my strict mentor making jest? And why, pray, are you secretly singing to my daughter, withholding such delicate pleasures from me?"
His smiling eyes seemed to turn darker right there, as he brushed his lips across her forehead. "I have sung to you on numerous occasions these past weeks my love, though I fear in your feverish state you may not have remembered. And I must admit the topic of those songs not always to be so...delicate as the ones I save for your daughter."
She choked on her breath, her face flushing a deep red. Against her hopes he had noticed, but spared her from further jest by handing her a portfolio. As she went through it she saw it contained Italian arias, some familiar, some new to her. "I suppose I cannot escape studying these, can I?"
He turned towards the table, pouring them both a glass of wine. "It seemed an appropriate moment. Now that we've had ample chance to test the range of your voice, see what suits you best. And it would probably aid you in your knowledge of the Italian language which seems useful now that it is...likely you and Céline will probably not return to France very soon."
She noticed how a question lingered in his last remark. "I believe I may safely say we have no plans of the sort. Why leave Heaven to return to Hell?"
His look of disbelief and overpowering joy moved her. She came closer and gently took the wineglass from his hand, afraid that in his utter state of shock he might drop it.
"Had I not already made it clear that I have found everything my heart could ever desire, right here at your beautiful Persian Palace?"
He held her, but from his quick breath she could notice he was still not at ease. "Please, please be no less than earnest with me Christine."
She looked up at him and faced years of fear, sadness and insecurity. Everyone that should have loved him had deceived and abandoned him. His whole life had been a process of losing, mourning, learning to go without and learning not to care. She realised it would take more than a few kisses and some idle romantic phrases to break that circle.
"If you are serious...if you love me...I could not face losing you again, it would be the ruin of me. I fear falling to depths I would no longer be able to return from!"
Fear. The word had been used so often between them, and how she hated it. No more nightmares, no more fears. Slowly, not braking eye contact, she moved her hands up to his face and removed his mask. She felt him grab her wrist, but upon encountering the determination in her eyes his grip lessened. She saw him again as she had that night, yet completely different. No more nightmares, no more fears...She kissed his disfigured face, making his sorrowful tears disappear until she felt him be completely still under her touch.
"I know my heart, my love. I pray you will come to know it as well so you can read it, and find that it is completely dedicated to you. Devoted to turning your fears into joy, and your tears into those of pure happiness."
She heard him sigh in the way he had when beholding her with Céline. She knew the first battle had been fought, and won. His face still in her hands she gave him a scolding look, lights dancing in her eyes.
"Now tell me Monsieur, can we now perhaps have our dinner as we ought, for I fear this will become the second table we shall utterly ruin and I pity dear Franca for it!"
He now smiled, burying his face in her hair once more before slowly letting go and helping her to the table.
Renzo quietly knocked and was relieved to be accepted in. To his surprise and delight he found the master and his lady not sitting on opposite ends of the table but next to each other. Having finished dinner, they were enjoying intimate conversation in the company of a good glass of wine. "Ah, la dolce vita, the radiance of young lovers!" he thought to himself.
"Can I clear the table for you Maestro, might there be anything else I may assist you in?" With a quick nod of the head, his eyes not leaving Christine's face, he signaled Renzo to clear and be gone as quickly as possible. He needed no further instructions. Piling the tableware, adding another log to the fire, he hastily excused himself.
"And?" Franca could not help but ask. "Dinner was fine Franca."
She hit him playfully "You know very well that was not what I meant!"
Renzo turned serious, pondering at what he had witnessed. "They seemed to be enjoying each other's company very well indeed...so well that he did not even bother to wear the mask, Franca..." Franca sucked in her breath.
Once, as she and her brother had come to work at Palazzo Persico, had they seen his face. The Palazzo was still in a sorry state, furniture being moved in and staff being employed. They had been recommended by Father Domenico, who was also a confidant to the master and had known their parents very well. "They are honest and hardworking children, you can entrust them with your very life."
And so they had been brought to the Palazzo and received their employment. The master had looked at them for a long time, and had then taken off his mask. Both of them had had to swallow hard at what lay beneath it. Father Domenico had warned them that the master was severely disfigured, but the sight of it had still been very disturbing.
"I wanted you to see, so that you may cease the guessing in your minds as to my unfortunate fate and prevent any feverish stories among your fellow workers. I do not wish for you to come across me without my mask and turn this whole household in an uproar. Father Domenico assured me you could be trusted and I expect no less than your utter and absolute discretion on this matter."
Both of them had nodded in agreement and had been sent on their way. It would not happen often, but especially at night when the master would get tired he would sit in his room with his books, resting his withered skin from its every day prison. For him to sit down at dinner with his lady without feeling the necessity of wearing the mask, gave Renzo and Franca a lot to wonder about.
"She was not upset?" Renzo shook his head. "Not at all, she regarded him as any other man..." Franca gave him a teasing smile. "Did I not tell you everything would fall together?"
At the table Christine still stared at Erik in the utmost devotion. How she loved him! How happy she was that this day of rain had kept them inside! She noticed his bad eye fiercely blinking at the bright light of the rising fire.
"Are you alright my love?"
He shook his head, rubbing the eye. "It happens when I tire. Pay no heed to it ma chère."
She smiled, squeezing his hand. "So long as you do not tire of me! Tell me, is there anything that I may do to bring you relief?"
She saw a teasing twinkle appear in his good eye, but before she could feel embarrassed he quickly drew her near. "The Dottore has provided me with a tonic that I may use to rest the irritation. I believe it lies in my room by the bed."
She kissed him and was on her way. His bedchamber was very elegant and masculine, and made her remember the cavern under the Opera House. Adorned with gold and green, she suddenly understood how he had found those colours to brisk for her little Céline. She quickly sought out the tonic, feeling somewhat embarrassed in being there. As she assisted him in watering his eye, she immediately noticed the change.
"Thank you, that is much better!" Both eyes were now shining up at her again.
"You have a very good doctor." He kissed her. "I know, he gave you back to me!"
Parting was very hard that night. The Palazzo already lay dormant, which made it easier for them to cross the hallway in a not so suiting manner. He could not be prevailed upon entering her chambers however, in fear of never leaving.
"Remember, I have promised the dear Contessa that I would not make a bad woman of you." They both laughed at the memory of it.
He let his hands run over her face, from her marble forehead past her gleaming eyes and the tip of her nose to her yearning lips. "How I adore you!" he whispered. "And I you!" she could barely speak the words before being silenced in the most passionate kiss imaginable.
"Sometimes I fear that I might wake up and find this all to have been the sweetest of dreams."
"Did we not agree to have no more fears?"
"I cannot promise you my fears will pass so quickly. I might...tell you of them, so you may hold me and bring them to silence..."
She softly pulled him into the room before closing the door behind them. "Then let me hold you now, so that your fears of awaking without me may be silenced..."
He was almost shocked at her proposal. "Christine..."
She put a finger on his lips. "I'm not suggesting anything so improper, rest assured. That does not mean however you can not stay and send me off into a safe sleep. Besides, Franca has already gone to bed and I will be needing some assistance in undressing. I do not think my poor lungs will appreciate remaining in this corset another minute, let alone this whole night!"
As she turned her back to him and he carefully started to undo the back of her gown, he playfully kissed her neck. "Madame de Chagny, you are an evil woman. I fear one day you will be the ruin of me!"
She gave him the most innocent of looks via her mirror. "Well that would be the easiest of fears to silence, Signore Alighieri. All you need do is leave this room then." He sent her a scolding look in return, which without his mask did not seem half so stern.
"Where did you find your name though? You have not yet revealed the secret of its origin to me!" Suddenly she realised there was still so much of him she didn't know. For all she knew it could in earnest be his last name!
"Ma chère, as soon as your knowledge of the language allows it, I will order you to reread your Divina Commedia in it's original context!" Suddenly she remembered. The Divine Comedy, written by Dante, whose unfamiliar last name was...Alighieri. His favorite author, she should have known!
By now he had loosened her corset and politely turned from her, gazing through the curtains into the starlit night. He would not confess to her that the sight and feel of her warm skin beneath his hands had left him with a longing to great to mention. He did not turn back at her until he knew she was safely in her bed, the object of his desire safely separated from him by many comforting blankets. He sat by her and with not much objection allowed her to draw him close, his arms wrapped around her as they both drifted off into a peaceful slumber.
He did not know what time it was when he felt a soft hand on his scarred skin. Christine? No, this was a small hand, which meant...He slowly opened his eyes and by the light of the candle that they had accidentally left burning, he looked into the inquisitive hazel eyes of Céline. She looked back at him with a small frown on her brow, one he recognised from her mother who tended to the same gesture when a song or a note gave her troubles and she was concentrating.
"How come your face looks so?"
For a moment he could not answer, simply amazed by the fact that his disfigurement seemed not to frighten her at all. "I do not know, I was born like this."
Céline nodded as if suddenly she understood completely. "Then God in Heaven made it so!"
He smiled at the simplicity of her reasoning. If it could not be explained it must be God's doing and thus completely acceptable.
"Does it hurt, your face?"
"If God made me so, would He not see to it that it doesn't hurt?"
She pondered at this thought for a while. "Does He?"
"Yes, ma petite. And now tell me, why are you not asleep in your bed?"
She pouted at him sadly, another trademark she had obtained from her mother and a very dangerous means of getting her way. "There is a monster under my bed."
Erik sat up slowly, careful not to wake Christine. "Is there? Well then, we had better make sure he leaves you then!"
Céline nodded happily, holding out her arms to him. As he picked her up she immediately wrapped her little arms around his neck. A happy mixture of senses overcame him. The scent of her flowery soap, her soft warm breath against his neck, her hands clinging to him in complete trust. The monster, of course, had long left. Erik lit the candle by her bed, claiming monsters as a whole were very frightened of its flame, as well as of teddybears, and assured her it would not show its face again. He sat by her a while lulling her to sleep. He was about to turn and leave when he heard Céline mumble in her sleep.
"Bonsoir papa..."
His life was complete indeed.