A/N: I apologize for the lateness of this chapter. I kept pivoting, and the chapter ended up coming out pretty long. Good news is that the next chapter is mostly written, so that'll get out quicker (I hope)!
Enjoy!
The weather had finally started to turn from oppressive to something more tolerable in DC, and Christine couldn't have been happier for it. Of course, the changing weather meant that midterms were just around the corner, but for at least one more night, she could enjoy herself before sticking her nose resolutely in her Music Theory textbook.
And judging by the attitudes of the combined group of friends she and Meg sat with, they were all trying heartily to forget it as well.
The six of them - she, Meg, Jamie, Cecilia, Catriona, and Eddie - were having dinner at the dining hall on campus, chatting loudly as they jumped from one topic to the next. Eddie was a late addition to the party, having been hailed over to the table once Christine caught sight of him entering the dining hall alone. He had approached with a wave and a smile, sitting down almost immediately.
"Hey, Hayden," Jamie greeted, batting her eyelashes shamelessly. "Fancy seeing you here."
"Yeah, at dinnertime and everything," Catriona teased her, earning a sharp pinch to the elbow. She shrieked her outrage, and the rest of the group laughed.
Christine spared him a warm smile. "Have you started to suffer from an existential crisis like the rest of us?" she asked.
He grimaced. "Absolutely."
"Cheer up!" Jamie urged. "There's plenty to look forward to after midterms are over."
Cecilia sat up a little straighter in her seat. "Ooo, like what?"
Christine frowned. "Thanksgiving break?"
Jamie looked at her, then rolled her eyes. "Well yeah, duh, but I meant after that."
Meg, who had been curiously silent ever since Eddie sat down, perked up a little. "You mean the Fête!"
Jamie shot her an approving look. "Exactly!"
Besides the actual performances that took place during the weekend of the Winter Fête, the most highly anticipated event was the formal celebration on Saturday evening. It was one of the premier social events of the year in DC, attracting students, alumni, and many others. Christine hadn't attended last year, but she had heard plenty of stories from Meg, who had gotten the stories from her mother.
Cecilia sighed dreamily. "If only I had something gorgeous to wear. Maybe I'll land a patron by then."
Meg tutted her tongue disapprovingly, and Christine had to busy herself with her dinner to avoid laughing at the near-perfect impression Meg had unwittingly made of her mother. "Don't be ridiculous, Cici."
Cici scowled at her. "Well, not all of us have handsome and rich boyfriends who can take us." She turned her attention on Christine, who wished then that she could sink into the floor. "Will you be taking that cutie Raoul Chagny with you to the party, Christine?"
Under Cici's inquisitive look, Christine scrambled for an answer. December was still a few months off. She hoped that things with her and Raoul would continue to move forward, but truth be told, she was unsure. The week she had spent with him in his apartment had been wonderful, but law school kept Raoul extremely busy. They were lucky if they got to speak a few times a week on the phone, even luckier if they got to see one another in person.
Still, her stomach flipped a little in excitement at the thought of bringing Raoul to the party. A small part of her whispered that she might even receive a little attention from her peers if Raoul were at her side. She didn't mind being overlooked most of the time, but there were days when her loneliness did become a little harder to bear than others.
"I don't know," Christine evaded. "I hope so."
"You should give him a heads' up," she replied, winking. "It'll be a good way to keep him on the hook."
Christine nodded, even if she didn't entirely understand Cici's meaning.
"Well, I'm sure any one of you ladies," Eddie said to the entire group, "Could get any date you wanted. A man should be so lucky for you to deign to notice them."
Cecilia giggled, soon chorused by Jamie.
Christine turned to Meg in amusement, but was disappointed to see her roommate's eyes cast down at the table, her sable, thick eyebrows heavy.
Despite Meg's insistence that Eddie was a catch for her, Christine couldn't help but read something deeper into Meg's stony exterior. Meg was notorious for flitting from one boy to the next, but something about her response to Eddie's flirting with Cici made Christine think that pushing him off on Christine might be a deflection. Still, she wouldn't nudge her friend until she was sure.
She was shaken from her silent matchmaking when the group turned their conversation inevitably in the direction of The Ghost. Christine became as silent as her friend then, trying her best to keep from looking too exasperated.
"Amy swears she saw him in her apartment the other day." Catriona blotted her mouth carefully with a napkin.
Jamie looked unimpressed. "She probably thinks it'll make us want to go over there. As if her first three suggestions for hosting a party actually caught anyone's attention."
"Her place is supposedly decked out," Cici supplied.
"According to her."
"You think she'd lie about that?"
"Doubtful. Isn't her father loaded?" Catriona asked.
Cici nodded. "He probably bought that apartment for her thinking it would help her make friends."
"Fat chance," Jamie muttered unkindly.
"You dance types are always hosting such ragers," Eddie offered over his glass of water. "You're lucky you can be discriminating about which parties you attend. Us poor music kids are lucky to be invited to any parties at all."
"Or maybe someone's just not being invited to the ones we do have," Christine teased, throwing an elbow gently into Eddie's side. Underneath the ribbing, she was grateful to him for changing the subject, and tried to impart that with her eyes.
"Harsh, Daae, harsh," he said around a laugh.
"I find it very hard to believe you're not being invited to parties, Hayden." Jamie tossed her hair, giving him a once over. "I'd invite you anywhere." She and Cici tittered again.
Twin spots of color appeared in Eddie's cheeks. Christine was sure that Meg would take the opportunity to join in the flirting now, but she continued to keep silent. Her eyes were cloudy, unfocused. Christine hid a frown around a bite of her pizza.
"I'll go to any party you invite me to, Marston," Eddie finally said.
Jamie simpered at this. "Maybe I'll keep you on my shortlist for the Fête, Hayden."
He gave a short chuckle by way of response, but didn't dissuade her.
Christine looked down at her phone to check the time. She still had some time before her lesson, but she was growing weary of watching Jamie and Cici shamelessly flirt, and was growing despairing at Meg's glum mood. She grabbed her plate and began to clean up.
"Going somewhere, Christine?" Eddie frowned.
She shot him a guilty glance, then looked around the table. Only Meg appeared unsurprised by her retreat. "I'm meeting someone," she blurted out. "I lost track of time."
"I'll walk out with you," Meg offered quietly.
The girls looked more disappointed at Meg's leaving, but Christine didn't take it to heart. With one final wave, she and Meg walked away from the table.
"Lesson?" Meg asked unnecessarily.
"Yeah," Christine answered, feeling off-kilter by Meg's atypical behavior. "Meg," she asked once they were alone outside the dining hall, "Are you alright?"
Meg cleared her throat, hoisting her bag higher up on her shoulder. "Fine."
Christine was unconvinced. "Are you sure?"
Meg's fingers rubbed against one another, a sign Christine had come to learn meant that she wished she had a cigarette. "Yeah, only-" She heaved a sigh, her wayward eyes rising to meet Christine's, a tension radiating from her small frame. "Christine, if I asked you something, would you be honest with me?"
She frowned. "Of course. How can you even ask me that?"
Meg sighed testily. "I don't know. I just feel like people are keeping secrets from me. Like when I was a kid."
Christine's voice lowered. "Including me?"
Meg looked her in the eye. "You weren't honest with me about Erik."
Christine looked away. Meg was right, but hearing it out loud sent a sharp stab of shame through her. "I know."
Meg's feet shuffled again. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, hopping up onto the balls of her feet before settling back down on the earth. After a moment of quiet tension between them, Meg spoke again, her voice impossibly soft. "He's The Ghost, isn't he?"
Christine looked up sharply. She wanted to deny it, but the truth was, she couldn't. Meg had aired the accusation that had been building in her own heart for weeks now, the accusation that Christine hadn't been able to voice aloud to the very person it concerned.
Things with Erik were going well. They were making great progress with her voice, and she could tell he was pleased. Moreover, their relationship was even starting to resemble something like friendship, even if he tended to pull away from her most of the time. Which was exasperated, of course, by the fact that he changed the subject every time she tried to ask about the person who had been stalking her weeks ago.
Christine hugged herself a little, both as a deterrent from the conversation she was having, and as a deterrent from the frustration that had slowly been building towards Erik. "I don't know, Meg. You know I don't listen to a lot of gossip surrounding the supposed 'Ghost.'" When Meg opened her mouth, her expression stern, Christine quickly continued. "But I have been thinking for a while now that the weird antics that have been going on around campus could very well be explained by him."
Meg nodded slowly, somewhat appeased by Christine's concession. She opened her mouth to say something, paused, then tried again. "You know how I told you about my dad and what he used to do?"
Christine nodded, even if she had only a faint idea of what Meg meant. She knew Meg's father had been employed by the government, but when she had asked Meg specifics, the answer had been vague. She'd understood enough back then to know that asking again wouldn't result in a more detailed answer.
"My parents kept a lot of stuff from me. After my dad died, it only seemed to get worse. Like my mom had even more to hide." Meg sighed. "This is starting to feel like that."
Christine blinked. "You think your mom is hiding something about Erik, and that it might be similar to what your dad did?"
Meg shrugged impatiently. "I don't know. But I'm starting to think that after the weirdness with your stalker and how Erik had traced him to our house, something larger is at work." She looked at Christine meaningfully. "I think it's important that you find out what he's really doing here, Christine," she said slowly. "I don't think he's who he says he is."
A cold feeling washed over Christine. At the change of expression on her face, Meg continued reassuringly, "I'm sure he has your best interests at heart, Christine. But I've lived with a set of parents who were both expert liars. I can spot another one a mile away. Just...be careful, OK?"
Meg quickly sprung forward to give Christine a hug before darting away. Christine watched her go with consternation, the uncomfortable sensation of her worried heart knocking against her ribcage a testament to the words they had just exchanged.
She didn't want to give herself the time to review her feelings about it. She had spent plenty of sleepless hours thinking about it already.
Head out of the clouds, Daae.
Campus was already pitch dark as she made for the music building. As her feet moved over the pavement she tried to center herself, already anticipating Erik's questioning, burning gaze. It was impossible to think under that gaze, to deflect, and harder still to lie. No matter what, Erik would sense her distress, as he always did. She was powerless to prevent it, but she could try to keep them on topic. She was still formulating excuses at the door of their practice room, only to be stopped short when she heard his familiar, hypnotic voice emanating from the other side of the door.
His tone was harried, which ordinarily would not have surprised Christine. What did surprise her, however, was that he was doing nothing to conceal himself. She knew that he took great pains to make sure he went about unnoticed, neither seen nor heard from. It would be an anathema to be spotted arriving or leaving this building, as his appearance was all too patent, and he did not wish to be remembered. She leaned towards the door, curious as to what would have made Erik forget himself.
"You know their methods as well as I do, Daroga," Erik said tightly. He paused. Then, "Not without making a trip, and as you can imagine, I have very little incentive to go back there just now." He chuckled without humor.
He's on the phone, Christine thought, bewildered. She knew he owned one, of course, had even held it, but the idea of Erik speaking to anyone on the phone was startling. The word ghost flitted across her consciousness again, and she shuddered.
It was quiet for a few seconds, then Erik spoke again, sounding even more impatient than before. "I have warned you, do not mention-!" He sighed, taking a deep breath. He listened for a time. Christine half-suspected he had ended the call before she heard his next response.
"As I have already told you," he said slowly, "The financials do not currently point in that direction. Perhaps one or two may be open to deals, based on past activity and a plethora of moronic investments-" He stopped speaking immediately, but Christine did not get the sense that he was interrupted. She doubted anyone would have the courage to interrupt Erik when he was in the middle of speaking. No, it sounded more like he was listening to something other than the person on the other end of the call.
She felt her stomach drop.
A few more seconds ticked by. "Shut up. No, I have to go now. I will call you again."
Almost as soon as he uttered these words, he was at the door, opening it a fraction in order to look directly at her. Christine tried to summon a weak smile, but felt her stomach continue to roll unpleasantly. She couldn't see his expression, of course, but she thought that his eyes looked displeased.
His eyes darted away from her to look up and down at the hall. Satisfied, he hooked two gloved fingers and gestured that she come into the room. He opened the door wide enough so that she could walk through, and shut it immediately behind her with a soft click.
"How long have you been standing there?" he asked.
She opened her mouth to respond, but hesitated, unsure whether or not she should embellish the truth.
"Do not lie," he commanded, forcing her into the decision.
She sighed. "No more than a minute."
"A person can hear quite a lot in one minute." He narrowed his eyes, as if recounting every word that was exchanged in that time period.
She rubbed her arm with her opposite hand, the silky material of her blouse soothing to the touch. "Who was it that you were speaking to?"
He opened his mouth, grit his teeth, then sighed. "I have mentioned this person to you previously.
She nodded slowly. "Nadir Khan." She bit her lip. "You said he was your friend. Or he was….once?"
Erik nodded wearily, slowly walking over to the keyboard to assume his normal position for their lessons. "We are...colleagues, I suppose you might say, so I cannot abandon his company completely." He scoffed. "Much as I might wish to."
She came over to sit next to him on the little chair he had provided for her. She usually sat there once their lesson was complete. In recent weeks, ever since the Giry dinner, they had taken to spending a little time after each lesson merely talking. Their discussions were usually surrounding Christine's education, her training, or her future, but it sometimes extended to the past, such as her life in New York with Mrs. Valerius, and the time when her parents were still alive. Erik never mentioned anything about himself, but he seemed all too content to hear about her life.
It didn't seem likely that they would have any quiet talks tonight, as the Music Building was buzzing with students who were rehearsing in preparation for midterms. But in a way, it seemed as though they might be able to have an even more private discussion with all of the activity around them to muffle their words.
She quieted her voice, trying to infuse as much calm in her expression as possible so as not to upset him. "What happened between you?"
He tossed his head in an indifferent fashion. It reminded Christine of a horse trying to shoo a fly away that was annoying him. "He angered me, and I cannot forgive him for it. It is as simple as that."
She knew she was treading on dangerous ground, but she felt courageous. She was well aware of the power this man held, and yet she didn't think he'd turn his anger on her. She couldn't say why she felt this way - she just did.
"At the Girys', you told me that you considered him a good friend. Are you sure whatever happened between you is worth throwing away your friendship over?"
He rose his head to look at her, staring at her wordlessly. She fidgeted under his gaze, unsure if he was mad at her or not. Perhaps she had spoken out of turn. Perhaps-
"You are baffling," he finally murmured, his voice enigmatic.
She blanched. "Me?"
He shook his head. "If you knew-" He chuckled, and it was not a very nice sound. Not for the first time in his company, she felt like a stupid little girl. She felt her hackles raise.
She opened her mouth to retort when he spoke again. "Nadir is utterly undeserving of your good nature, Christine."
Her mouth shut at that. She frowned. "Why would you say that?"
"Oh, don't get me wrong," he continued, draping an arm over to the back of his chair, looking up at the ceiling as he warmed to the subject, "I am sure he's a moral man, in his own way, but for all of his self-righteous bullshit, he still knows how to stab someone in the back." He looked back at her, as if remembering where he was, and dropped his arm, both hands falling listlessly into his lap. "I...apologize." He sounded regretful.
She was having trouble keeping up with his changing moods. It was difficult to follow the path his mind took. It felt a little too heavy for the moment. "Well, I won't presume to understand what's going on there. But maybe...try and give him a break? We're all human. And maybe he had good reason for doing whatever it was that upset you."
"Yes…" he said slowly, tilting his head as his eyes zeroed back in on her. "Perhaps…" He cleared his throat. "We will not worry about him any more now. Up you get. Scales."
She obeyed, casting off the topic as easily as if they had been discussing the weather.
She kept her attention on the lesson, but in the back of her mind, she mulled over the conversation she had heard. There was so much Erik wasn't telling her, and as she had seen already, some of it concerned her. She knew the moment was drawing nearer where she'd have to demand the truth from him.
The time passed quickly as it always did. They ran through a piece Erik had selected for her the week prior. She ended the song on a clear, open note. It sounded healthy, which felt best of all.
"Better and better," Erik commented. "We should consider adding this piece to your songbook."
Christine blinked a few times. "My songbook?"
Erik looked down the false bridge of his nose at her. "You do have a songbook?"
She grinned sheepishly.
He shook his head. "We will remedy that. It is important that you start to put together a collection of pieces that you will bring to professional auditions. Surely Reyer has brought this up before?" he asked somewhat disapprovingly.
"Of course," Christine readily answered.
"Well, then," he continued. "We shall add this. And begin to work on a few others I have in mind. Perhaps there is something here we can present to Reyer as your piece for the Fête."
"The Fête?" she all but squeaked.
"Yes." He narrowed his eyes, turning his body towards her once again. "What is it, Christine? You're distracted again."
She chastised herself. She had thought she had redirected well enough earlier...
Perhaps now was as good a time as any, she thought morosely.
"I was just thinking about the other night."
"The other night?" he parroted thinly.
"At the Girys.'"
"Ah."
She felt her own impatience rise. "You know who was following me, don't you?"
He stiffened. She watched as he gathered himself, his stature becoming, almost impossibly, straighter. "I had thought we had put this to bed, Christine."
She almost huffed at his immovable tone. It was as if he thought she was a little girl to be told what to do, as if she didn't have the right to question him, the all-knowing father figure. Well, he was not her father. And Christine was not the type to be kept silent.
"I have a right to this information, Erik. This concerns me. How am I supposed to feel safe if I don't understand why I was being followed?"
"I told you that I had taken care of it."
She crossed her arms. "So, what, I should just take your word for it?" She snapped. "Just like magic, the danger is gone?"
He narrowed his eyes at her. "I have never given you reason to doubt my words. Why do you start now?"
She bristled. She didn't like that he was turning this back around on her. It made her defensive, which felt unfair. "This doesn't have to do with my doubting you, Erik. It has to do with my right to information that concerns me."
He inclined his head. "Ah, you want to peer behind the curtain, do you?" he asked darkly. He stood up, and while she managed to hold her ground, a small part of her cowered at the imbalance of his height against hers. "But what if I were to tell you something you did not wish to hear?" His voice dropped, eliciting a shiver from her.
"What if it involved something beastly, Christine? If it involved some lewd, dark impulse that drew this person to you...would you abandon this foolish curiosity then?"
She swallowed around a hard lump in her throat. She lifted her chin, unwilling to be cowed. "I'm not a child. I can handle the truth."
"Can you?" he challenged softly.
She glared up at him. "You're not going to tell me, are you?"
He turned away, dropping his menacing act. "No."
"Fine." She picked up her bag, pushing it angrily over her shoulder.
He turned back to her sharply, sensing her hasty retreat. "We're not done here," he said warningly.
"Actually, we are," she bit out, angry tears springing to her eyes. "Call me when you decide to treat me like a person, and not like a project."
Then she walked out.
A/N: I kept meaning for there to be a lesson where they ended on an angry note, but for whatever reason, my sick little E/C shipping heart kept letting them reconcile. But no! I'm a writer, I must allow my characters to fight and be at odds! It's good for the soul!
...let's be honest. This won't last long. I don't have the stomach for it. But next chapter will certainly milk this tension out. Stayed tuned, and as ever, please review!