A/N: Sorry for the long wait everyone. New job and all the stressors that follow. For those who were thrown off by the last chapter, all will be explained in due time. Thank you everyone for sticking with me! Next chapter will be up as soon as I can.
When Jane didn't return home after the gala, Erik wasn't terribly concerned, as he was distracted by the presence of his protege. The next morning failed to provide any insight as to her whereabouts, either. This was cause for concern, as Jane didn't normally stay away from home for more than an evening, and it was now into the next morning, with no sign of his friend.
A soft sound from the bedroom erased all thought of Jane from his mind. His beloved Christine was there, in his home, and he couldn't contain his delight, nor his anticipation. What would she say? She seemed dazzled by his performance last night, but would that wonderment transfer over into her first morning in his home? There was only one way to know, and it created a pit of worry in his stomach.
He began to play a soft melody on his organ, so as to wake her gently into the land of the living. He let his feelings for her flow from his fingers to the keys, a floating sound that echoed around the cavern. Her angelic voice soon found him, harmonious with the music, and soothed his soul. Her voice could always calm him after a trying day. It was the balm to his wounds, and here was his cure in the flesh.
He felt her light touch on his face and leaned into her body as he continued to play. Heaven had finally come down to bless him, after years of dark solitude and hatred. It was to be short-lived, for, without warning, she pulled his mask off and gasped. She had seen his face, the one he so rarely let light touch, and was horrified. His dream shattered before his eyes and the reality of his existence reared its ugly head. She was just like everyone else, everyone else that feared him, hated him for his face. Anger and anguish filled his soul and he pushed Christine away.
"Damn you, you little prying pandora, you little viper," He leaned toward her cowering body, his body shaking with barely controlled rage, "Is this what you wanted to see?!"
"Curse you, you little lying Delilah, you little demon. Now you cannot ever be free!"
He shouted, cursed, whimpered of hatred and disgust, of the anguish that crushed his soul. He felt he would never be whole again after this betrayal from his precious student. The shaking figure huddled in the corner barely registered through his rage. If Jane had been there, she would know how to calm him down, what to say, what not to say, and he felt a longing for her strength.
Shortly after his outburst, he took Christine back to her room, she refused to look at him, her shoulder shaking and her body curled in on itself. Leaving without a word, Erik slunked downstairs to sulk and mourn. He thought Jane should have been back by now, he knew of her dislike for Christine and perhaps now that she was gone, his friend would return. He needed her comforting touch. She had always been there, one of the only constants in his life, someone he could rely on.
"Jane?" Only an echo answered him.
She was nowhere to be found in the caves, and a little seed of panic started to grow in the back of his mind. Where could she have gone? Where did she sleep? Had she left? The last thought filled him with dread. Jane was his best, if only, friend.
"Now, think logically about this." His frantic voice seemed to mock him as it rattled around the empty cave.
"She's most likely upstairs, cleaning. Of course, cleaning." He had unknowingly slipped into his habit of talking to himself to fill the silence, something he hadn't done since before Jane fell into his life.
Madame Giry's office had been strategically placed near the entrance to the lair for easy access, which Erik was thankful for as he knocked on the door to inquire about Jane.
"A day off?!" The panic was real now, Jane never asked for a day off, "Where did she go?"
Antoinette shrugged, "I have no idea, Erik. I thought she would have told you." She made a point of not asking where her workers went in their spare time. Erik's concern seemed logical, but that still didn't change her opinion that what happened on her workers' days off was their business. She glanced over at the man, he was visibly shaking. She had to calm him down before he went on a rampage.
"I'm sure she hasn't gone far. When she came to me this morning, she seemed upset and I thought it best not to pry." Again, there was the shrug. Erik glared at the prima ballerina, frustrated that she seemed so uncaring for something that was devastating to him.
"Fine." The door slammed closed behind him, releasing some of the anger that sat tight in his chest.
Now there was the problem of Jane being missing…of her own volition. That hurt to think about for Erik, the fact that she decided to leave him with saying anything. Not a note, not a word. He thought she owed him that much. He frowned at the wall, why did he think that?
Mimicking Antoinette's trademark, he shrugged, there was nothing he could do but wait until her return. A night alone wasn't so bad, and he could speak to her tomorrow. The cave was too quiet without her, though, so he decided on sleeping in the corridor near Christine's room. Despite her betrayal, his affection for her was deep and unwavering. Or so he thought.
The next morning brought aches and pains from sleeping on the hard concrete floor, but it was more tolerable than sleeping alone in the caves below. Erik hoped he would see Jane today, and he could finally talk to her about what happened, his glee from being with Christine (mornings tended to affect his memory), and his feelings about Jane's abrupt vacation.
Foregoing breakfast, he made his way to the rafters to start his rounds as the stagehands and artists started on the play il muto.
While overseeing the costume designers at work, he heard a voice float above the rafters from the lighting section, it was Jane. Excitement made his breath hitch in his chest and he quickly made his way over. It was indeed her, he would know her anywhere. She was facing away from him, but her unique cleaning dress and curvy figure gave away her identity. She was talking with a fellow stagehand who kept staring at her face with an odd expression on his face.
Once the stagehand walked away, Erik made his way down and, knowing they were alone, called out to her, "Jane?"
She went stiff at his voice and responded without turning around, "What?"
There was a cold chill to her voice and Erik's chest clenched with an unknown emotion.
"Where…where have you been? You haven't been home." He wasn't normally this unsure of himself, but Jane's behavior was throwing him off. He wanted her to look at him. Her accepting gaze and gentle eyes were the only sure way of knowing his friend had come back to him. He even hesitated to reach out and touch her. Their friendship was a tactile one, something he secretly craved. But, something had changed in the atmosphere between them. It scared him, an emotion he was not used to feeling.
A moment passed where she didn't speak, an inner debate warring within, evident by her still form. A resolution was found when her shoulders slumped in defeat as she turned to finally address him. Her eyes burned into his with irritation, and he took an unconscious step back. His own eyes darted to her lips, where the stagehand had been staring, and what he saw shocked him. Smeared across Jane's lips was rouge, a rose red that mimicked Erik's calling card.
She noticed him staring, "What is it?" Her irritation softened, if only slightly, with concern. He was so still.
A hot emotion, similar to what he felt in Christine's dressing room after the Viscount left, burned in his skull and rendered him speechless. He knew Jane only occasionally wore makeup and never that dark of a hue. She had certainly been out on her day off, with a woman no less! The revelation twisted his stomach. Jane had sought comfort in the arms of some harlot (somewhere in Paris, Lea choked on her coffee), on the night after his success, even.
While Erik continued his silent argument, Jane decided she would finish with her chores. Her movement spurred him into action and he grabbed her arm. She quickly whipped around to glare at the appendage as if it burned her.
"Erik?!" Despite her outrage, Jane kept her voice low so as to not attract attention. So, her regard for him remained intact, if not her loyalty. The thought left a sour taste in his mouth.
Had he been in the right frame of mind, he would question his anger and his apparent possession over Jane. But, Erik was not in his right mind and therefore did not consider this.
He dragged her to an empty dressing room and pushed her toward the mirror. By this time, Jane was seething with anger, but she still did not cry for help. A single candle burned on the vanity, giving the room an orange glow, ironically reminiscent of her recent visit with Lea.
"What is the meaning of this?" She had never been this angry with her friend and his actions continued to baffle her.
"Look. In. The. Mirror." His voice was no more than a growl, which, regardless of her anger, sent a shiver down her back.
He was just as worked up as she, so she conceded, in order to avoid more arguing. What she saw in its reflective surface gave her some insight as to the strange looks she had received, but it didn't explain Erik's anger.
Suddenly, a handkerchief appeared in front of her face, one of his personal ones, with 'O.G' embroidered on the corner. It was mildly touching. Wordlessly, she took it and wiped away the rouge from her face. Lea hadn't mentioned it to her and she wondered if it had been intentional. It was possible as she could have been put off by Jane's mixed signals. She would have a stern talking to with her later.
Turning once more to Erik, who was a trembling mass of emotion, she spread her hands out in surrender, "Better?" He settled slightly, now that the offending color was gone, but he was still tense and unusually quiet.
She wanted to stay mad, she really did. He hadn't explained himself, dragged her into an empty room, and demanded she clean her face. It should infuriate her, yet she was still hopelessly in love with him and his attention meant he cared, even if it came out in odd ways.
He seemed to consider her, but the dark room didn't illuminate her features as well as he liked. He stepped closer, so close that Jane could see that he shaved this morning, most likely to impress Christine, she noted sourly. The feeling was fleeting as Erik stepped even closer, sharing her breath and searching her face for any trace of the cosmetics. A small smudge on her jaw captured his attention. Without thinking, he reached up and wiped it away with his thumb. Jane's breath hitched, he wasn't wearing gloves, so the callous from hours of playing on the organ pulled gently on her soft skin.
With a nod, Erik's search was deemed successful, but he still didn't step away. Jane's body was strung like a wire, being this close to him, feeling his body heat radiating off of him in waves. Erik studied Jane's face in the soft glow of candlelight. Now that all of the rouge had been cleaned away, he should have moved away, but instead, he just stood there. Jane was a beautiful woman and it seemed as though he was just now noticing. He was so close he could see the tops of her breasts and the sweat beading in the valley between them, rolling over the supple mounds with her elevated breaths. When he met her eyes again, they looked like dark pools, so deep he felt like he could fall in. A whisper slipped, unbidden, past his lips, "Jane…"
Her breath hitched away and her eyes became half-lidded. When had this woman become so enticing? Erik felt drawn to her in a way that he had never felt before. This was deeper, more primal than his attraction to Christine.
Jane had once heard somewhere that darkness gave people the confidence to do things they would never do in the light. It was now or never and the desire to feel his lips against hers was overwhelming. Just as she leaned toward him, a group of stagehands rushed by the door, calling out for Jane, breaking the silence…and the spell.
With one last look at Jane, Erik vanished into the shadows, most likely through a secret door that led downstairs.
Jane sighed, a sorrowful, lost sound that echoed in the empty room. She still had the handkerchief clutched in her hand, the cream fabric now stained with red. With a small smile, she carefully folded it and tucked it next to her heart in her corset (the only one she owned). The door shut behind her with a resounding 'click'.
Over the next few days, Erik didn't see hide or hair of Jane anywhere, and she had yet to come home. She managed to evade him everywhere he went, and if he hadn't been so concerned, he would take pride in her skills.
Every night he was tormented by dreams of their encounter in the dressing room. Each time, the room became that much smaller and the candlelight so dim, he could barely make out her face. Only her eyes, her deep, expressive eyes, stared up at him, daring him to act on the feelings roiling between them. It was intense, almost melancholy as he always awoke just as their lips touched. It frustrated him, confused him, and most of all, filled him with desire. He didn't know what to do with it. He thought he desired Christine, his petite student, not his friend, his confidant. If she were here, she would tell him how to manage his dreams, that they were of no consequence.
One night while staring blankly at his organ, for he felt no inspiration, he recalled that Antoinette had a room for Jane near the dormitories. One that she had never used before since Erik made her a room of her own shortly after her arrival.
She had to be there, and it only made sense (in Erik's sleep deprived mind) to rescue her and bring her back where she belonged. He quickly threw on his clothes as a plan started to form.
Creeping through the rafters, he came across the lonely room in the corner of the dormitories and saw his friend sleeping restlessly on the old mattress. This was no place for his beautiful friend.
While he ran through the best routes to climb down and grab her, he suddenly heard her crying out, "No please…it hurts!…leave me…not again…"
A nightmare from her past. Erik remembered those nights when he first rescued her. He knew she was feeling pain and heartbreak but couldn't imagine what or who was harming her. At the thought of another being harming his Jane, a raw anger flared in his skull. He would string up whomever dared to…
The quiet, sorrowful cry of his name brought him out of his horrid thoughts, "Erik…" It was so quiet, he almost didn't hear her. Climbing down from his perch, Erik gently gathered Jane in his arms, cradling her head to his chest, "Oh, my dear."
When Jane awoke, she was in her bed, in the cavern. At first, she blushed at the thought of Erik carrying her to her room but that quickly soured. So, Christine could sleep in the swan bed but not his dearest friend? Jane decided that she was in need of more time away from Erik and the opera house. Lea was out of the question, she didn't think she could handle another afternoon like that. She hadn't called on her friend Roger in ages and she wanted to know how his Inn was doing, The Dirty Piglett.
Her decision made, she quietly got up, hearing Erik bustling around the cave, and packed a small satchel. She could have packed more, but she didn't have the courage to leave her phantom for good.
When she walked down, Erik turned around, a content look on his face (now that Jane was back), only to have it fall at the sight of her satchel, one that he had bought her years ago, thinking he would send her away but it only collected dust in her closet.
"Are you leaving?" He tried to school his features, forcing a detached tone.
"Yes, only for a while. I have some things to do on the surface."
"Why not let Madame Giry assist you?" Desperation cracked his voice, if only slightly.
Jane tried to evade, "She can't do this task."
'But I just got you back.' The thought was on the tip of his tongue but he held back, "Why not?"
"Because…" She looked away, focused on the ripples of the underground lake, "it's a person."
"Anyone I know?" Hopefully not that horrid woman who left her mark on Jane.
"No."
So many questions boiled to the surface, but Erik refrained from asking them.
"Fine. When will you be back?" He turned away from her, pretending to be uninterested even though he was hanging on her every word.
"In no more than a week."
"Be sure that you do."
If he had been watching her, he would have seen her flinch at his unusual demand. Silently, she left the caves which no longer felt quite like home.