A/N: Hi! I'm back! I've been working on a person project, and was feeling pretty stressed out about it (and the world in general) when I decided to dive back into POTO fic for a while. I realized that I still very much like this story idea, and so I wanted to approach it again. I hope there are still a few of you here who might be happy to read this!
One brief note. There's mention here of the Capitol building. In a strange twist of fate, I had written that scene before the events on 1/6/21. If anyone is feeling triggered by that event, I might avoid Erik's POV in this chapter. I don't go into any details, but something along those lines is mentioned. I really can't believe that I had sort-of-kind-of predicted that event. Heh. We live in scary times.
Please let me know what you think, I'd really love the feedback! Thanks for reading!
Christine woke up for her morning class after another night's fitful rest. She dressed in a half-daze, barely saying hello to Meg before she was out the door.
As she waited in line at the campus cafe for a coffee to take to class, Christine's thoughts inevitably returned to her exchange with Erik from Sunday night. She felt ambivalent about the way they had ended things. Despite having done nothing wrong, her teacher had behaved as though she were the one misbehaving.
The previous night's lesson had been stilted as well. She had left the lesson near to tears, feeling as though something fundamental changed between them. Something that felt like a growing chasm.
In all honesty, it rankled. Erik had shown himself to be mercurial before, but this new attitude of his felt...well, proprietary.
She knew how serious Erik was about her career. His fervor was confusing at times, as was the faith he placed in her ability, but it had nonetheless come to mean very much to her. Still, his dedication did not give him leave to act as though he was in control of all other aspects of her life. He was not.
She had wanted to tell him as much, but she had been too focused on diffusing the tension between them to really hash out the reason for his anger, and to relate to him how unfair it was.
And while she was by no means afraid of Erik, she couldn't help but feel concerned that a line had been crossed. A line they wouldn't be able to walk back over.
The more she thought about it, the more irritated she became.
She had been marinating in her feelings for long enough that she barely realized she had moved up in the queue. It was only when the barista waved a hand in front of her face that she shook herself out of it and gave her order.
After she was handed her drink, she turned around to the person behind her, remorseful. "Sorry about tha-,"
She was cut off from her apology when said person, a man with a baseball cap pulled down low over his face, ducked his head away from her and waved her off forcibly. Frowning, Christine walked away.
The icing on the cake was when she walked into her one o'clock class, only to be met head-on with the derisive gaze of Cara. Giving into the urge and rolling her eyes, Christine moved to her seat, refusing to meet any more of the hostile looks Cara gave her over the course of the class.
When the tension-filled hour finally came to a close, Christine quickly gathered up her belongings and hastily escaped the room. She was practically boiling over with stress. She knew she'd shout if Cara so much as came within ten feet of her.
All in all, the day hadn't been fantastic thus far.
It didn't help matters that despite her internal struggle, she couldn't help the feeling that someone might be following her.
It was the strangest sensation. She didn't know why she felt this way, only that she did. It was as though she had this uncanny awareness of another's eyes on her, and that gaze was relentless.
She shook herself free of the feeling. It was ridiculous. Everyone around her was just trying to get to class. Christine Daae hardly warranted anyone's attention, after all.
Thankfully, Cara was not her in her next class, and she was given a much-needed reprieve. Eddie had her laughing throughout the class, once again her partner in the class activities. He knocked shoulders with her good-naturedly, somehow sensing that she was badly in need of some levity.
During class, the thought occurred to her for the first time that she had missed an opportunity with Eddie. He was a nice guy: sensitive, smart, and was certainly going to be successful in his career. If Raoul were not in the picture, he would have been a good choice in a romantic partner.
Although Erik probably wouldn't like him either, her mind supplied unhelpfully.
Her frown returned. Where had that thought come from?
When class let out, she distractedly waved goodbye to Eddie, her thoughts once again consumed by her teacher.
There was no other reason for Erik to disapprove of Raoul except for the distraction he presented. Surely that was the only reason he was so incensed about her involvement with him.
She didn't want to look at the reasoning too much. In the past when presented with something uncomfortable, Christine had found it all too easy to look away, to pretend it out of existence. It was one of her greatest failings, one she told herself she would work on. She had a feeling that when it came to Erik, there would be no shortage of confrontations to be had.
As she made her way back home for the day, ready to crawl into bed and pray that the next day was easier, she once again shooed away the nagging sense that someone close by was staring at her. She looked over her shoulder once. She thought that maybe she could make out a familiar baseball cap in the line of trees...
She shivered. It's nothing, she reminded herself, a phrase that would soon become a mantra over the next few days.
Still, she made a plan that she'd go and talk to Dean Giry if the feeling persisted.
Christine's mention of the Starkov boy had been enough to warrant some measure of investigating. Moreover, it was just interesting enough to capture Erik's attention, and in light of what had transpired between them on Sunday, Erik was grateful for the distraction.
He was able to confirm all that Christine had heard. Jack Starkov had indeed come into some new and ostentatious jewelry. Erik was even able to pull up the sale record of the ring. The idiot who had purchased it hadn't used his or her real name, but they had used Jack's. It was enough information for Erik to go on, and certainly enough for him to trace.
The credit card that was used for the purchase was owned by Richard Gray, a representative from Illinois. To the outside world, he was happily married to his wife Vicki, and a father of two boys, both attending Northwestern. It was hardly surprising to Erik that such a man would want to keep his secrets well kept. His social media presence was as bland as a $6 bottle of Chianti.
Still, a security detail was a great deal of trouble to go to for some light extracurricular activity on the sly. Either the man was head over heels in love, or excessively paranoid.
Erik was only too happy to find out which it was.
He watched Jack for the next week, but Representative Gray did not visit him. Hardly surprising, as it would be much too obvious if someone as polished as Gray visited Cartier for no discernible reason, but neither did Jack leave campus. The furthest he ventured during the course of the week was a small convenience store on the edge of campus to pick up cigarettes and potato chips. Erik grimaced. He had observed much of the student body since he took up this mantle at the conservatory, and what he had learned about the habits of college aged students did nothing to impress him. Certainly the school was home to some of the most promising talent in the country, but when one was forced to watch their comings and goings day in and day out, the picture was hardly glamorous.
And many of these students, including Jack, had the means to take better care of themselves! If they so chose, they could be living strictly off of organic produce, farm-fed proteins, and pressed juices. Instead, the diet seemed to consist largely of nicotine and caffeine.
He thought again of Christine and her affinity for cola. He hoped she had taken his advice to heart, and was treating her body with the dignity it deserved.
Not that he was one to speak on such matters. His skeletal frame was barely inspiration for an elementary school art class teaching stick figure drawings.
He wasn't getting anywhere fast with Jack. He needed to find Representative Gray.
But he was hesitant. He had become accustomed to his watch over Cartier, and a part of him was loath to go too far.
He had never been plagued with anything resembling agoraphobia before, so the new development baffled him. He had visited more countries than he could count on his fingers and toes, and had barely batted an eyelash in the past when he'd been forced to go somewhere new. So what was the problem?
A small voice inside softly whispered that the problem would be that he'd be leaving Christine alone.
But the idea was preposterous. Christine was in no danger!
Even still, he did not wish to be far from her. Even considering it caused a sick feeling to overcome him.
She'd no doubt be quite surprised by the fact, if she knew.
Despite his irritation with her budding romance with Chagny, he wasn't angry with her. He knew his hostile feelings toward her on Sunday had been misplaced, but for whatever reason, he hadn't been able to mask the ire he felt after seeing her with Chagny.
Was he angry with the situation? More likely.
Most likely, he was simply angry that 'The Boy' existed at all, as he had taken to calling him in his head.
Perhaps he should be glad that the Chagny boy was around. He would keep Christine company while Erik did his job.
The job that is currently keeping you out of jail, he reminded himself.
He grit his teeth. It was just as well. This was the way things were. He would spy on Gray, and Christine would carry on with her normal, college life, with the Chagny boy to keep her safe.
He scoffed. Not bloody likely.
Or, the voice inside cruelly offered, she'll realize that all she needs is The Boy's attention, and lessons with your putrid presence are no longer worth the hassle. Moreover, she'll realize that you are hideous and frightening and she'd rather dumpster dive than be near you.
Erik threw a metaphorical lasso around the voice's throat and pulled taut, smiling to himself in satisfaction.
Already hating this plan, Erik sent Christine a brief text alerting her that their lesson on Wednesday was canceled, and that he would see her at their regular time on Sunday. He pushed send, and as he did, he turned his back on Cartier and walked towards downtown DC.
It would be nigh on impossible to break into the Capitol and corner Representative Gray. A last resort, it was one he only anticipated should the need become very dire. As it was, he had no discernible proof that Gray was tied to any foreign dealings, and so he had little cause to make such a fuss.
The better route was the one he was currently taking. Like all politicians, Gray had a very strict schedule, and it hadn't been difficult to hack into his office's network and find a copy of the man's daily schedule. He attended boring meeting after boring meeting, hardly leaving the building, which left Erik with a very great shortage of patience. At long last he left for the day, and Erik was able to trail him back to his apartment in DC, where he watched in silence as the man entered his home by himself.
From his outside vantage point, he could discern no visitors. There had been one delivery person, but their visit was brief and unremarkable. Jack did not show up. Representative Gray was in bed by eleven.
Erik sighed. Perhaps another method would be more forthcoming.
The next night, Erik laid in wait for the man inside of his own apartment. He listened with disdain as the man ordered from the same takeout establishment, no doubt ordering the same food. He watched television as he waited for the food to arrive, some banal cooking show that no doubt was wasted on him. Erik had a mind to make his presence known, delivery person be damned, when a sudden ringing of the phone broke up the monotony.
Gray pointed the remote control at the television to mute it, and picked up his cell phone. The sight of the number on the screen made him sigh, and reluctantly answer the call.
"Hello?"
Erik narrowed his eyes. From his hiding place, he could not hear the person on the other end of the call. But as luck would have it, the bleary-eyed man answered Erik's unspoken wishes and put the cell phone on speaker.
"You ignored my last two texts," came a disgruntled, high-pitched male voice.
"I was in meetings all day, you know that." Gray turned his eyes back to the muted television.
The person on the other end scoffed. "So? You're home now! You could have answered me since then. Or are you too busy for your dirty little secret?"
Gray sighed again. "You are not my dirty little secret, Jack."
"No, I'm not," the other agreed. "I'm just your son."
Erik felt his sunken eyes attempt to reassemble his face into something less-skull-like.
His son?
"And yet you continue to ignore my existence."
Gray rubbed his forehead with two fingers. "I told you, Jack. It's an election year. Once this is behind us, I'll be only too happy to bring you forward. I'm proud of you, after all! My son, a student at Cartier!"
Jack snorted. "Yeah, sure. With your 'real' boys studying pre-law, I'm sure the one thing you were really missing in your perfect life was your bastard, low-class, homo son."
Erik leaned out just a little more to better see how Gray would receive that.
The sight filled him with contempt. Gray had gone pale.
Jack's voice got quiet. "You're not going to claim me, are you?"
Gray took the phone off speaker and pressed it to his ear. "Of course I will! I just need some more time!"
The man listened to his son with growing aggravation, wiping a hand across his forehead.
"I bought you that ring, didn't I? Like you asked? Even if I can't understand why in the hell you'd want people to think - no, Jack, I told you this has nothing to do with your sexuality-!"
Erik had heard enough. He tuned out the conversation, no longer needing to hear the fallout. He waited out the delivery man before quietly slipping out the door.
The street Gray lived on was quiet, hardly a soul in sight. Except for the sounds of a few dogs barking in the distance, Erik walked in silence.
Unconsciously, he began to think about his own mother. From the very beginning, she had denied his existence, content to keep him her dirty little secret. She would have liked to keep him sequestered away in the musty attic where he ate, shit, and slept, but Erik was not dead, though he looked that way. He was alive, and like all living things, he had a desire to be free.
His poor, unhappy mother. If she knew Erik were alive today, would she claim him, after all?
He grunted. Fat chance of that.
Better to think him dead.
In the end, he only really desired to be claimed by one person.
He rather thought there'd be very little he wouldn't do to be claimed by Christine.