He Loves Me; He is Here

o~

Oft she visits this lov'd mountain,

Oft she bathes her in this fountain;

Here, here, Acteon met his fate,

Here pursu'd by his own hounds,

And after mortal wound she could discover'd too late. - Dido and Aeneas, Purcell

~o~

~~~ Chapter 13 ~~~

~o~

Again, that soft piano music was playing as Christine awoke. She listened to it sleepily for a moment before it stopped. A few moments later, Erik would be in her doorway, smiling softly, if hesitantly. "How do you feel?"

"It was you, " she breathed. "I thought I had dreamt it all." She looked down at her sweaty, smelling stage shift and buried herself farther into the covers.

"Erik,.. what is going on?"

He crossed his arms, shrugging. "You were poisoned," he responded conversationally. "I saved you. Cyanide. Someone in the opera house does not want to see you ascend and they are willing to go to lethal measures to prevent it."

She blinked. That voice...

"T..Teacher?" Her voice was small, unsure.

"Yes, my child," He said simply, approaching her. His heart was pounding through his chest, utterly worried that she would reject him in that moment.

Christine looked down, so utterly confused. Perhaps she was still in a drugged haze?

"The whole time?" She asked, her face blank and her voice without tonation, revealing nothing of her feelings.

Erik watched her closely. "I am unsure of what you mean. Am I the teacher who spoke to you and taught you? Yes. I am," He said, taking another step closer to her.

"As well as my patron?" Her voice was stronger now, her eyes raising to bore into his.

He was silent for only a moment. "I am the baron you met at the ball; the man who gave you such lavish gifts." His gaze locked on hers. "Do you fear me, with this mask, in this strange underground home?"

"If I already know who you are, why do you wear a mask?" She looked around, noting the thick rock of the walls and the complete absence of windows. She shook her head in bewilderment.

"You do not wish to see me without this mask, Mlle. Daaé," He said firmly, more of a command than a request or advisement.

Her eyebrows scrunched in reaction to his adamant response. She nodded her head slowly. "I do not fear you, Teacher...Baron..." She laughed a little, nervous, "No matter whom you have been, you have done nothing but support me. And I suppose now I owe you my life."

"One could say that, though I would never demand anything like that from you." He lowered his gaze. "You see, now, why I could never reveal myself to you, why I have always sang to you, spoken to you, in the shadows."

"No," She said. Incredulity- strength - began to creep into her voice. "I don't understand at all! Why all of this hiding?"

He dropped his gaze; his voice low, a bit pained. "I am disfigured. I hide because it is essential to my survival and my ability to be your patron. In a sense, I am cursed, not presentable for day to day society," he admitted, his voice brimming with self-loathing.

"Oh..." Christine took a moment to think on all of this. "Well... I thank you. For trusting me with your identity. So... are you not truly a baron?" She realized how that sounded and backtracked, "Oh my- not that... I mean that wouldn't matter if you were or weren't! I am just trying to understand," she finished weakly.

"No, I am. Money can pay for nearly anything, and I have plenty of that," He answered bluntly. "My face. That is disfigured, and you may not look upon it as long as we both live." He paused, his voice taking on an increasingly blunt and forceful tone. "Are we understood, Mlle. Daaé?"

She offered a small smile at his talk of the power of money, then sobered appropriately at the change of his tone. "I will do everything in my power to respect your wishes. It is the least I can do for you..." she paused and an awkward silence filled the air. "What...is it you want from me?" She asked carefully.

"For you to continue your training. In time, when I have assured that the opera house is safe for you, you will return," he said solemnly.

Christine nodded, confused and lost, but she trusted her teacher. And her admirer! Again she wondered why he send would her such opulent things without wanting sexual favors? And yet he had yet to even hint at it. Did she care? Did she want it? She vowed to truly pay attention to his actions and try to figure out this mysterious man!

Of course, being so deep in thought, she missed his gaze lingering over her, tearing over her figure. She did not notice how he had to force his eyes back to hers. "I have to admit...Christine...that I have been...fascinated with you since I've discovered you," he said, vaguely.

She flushed, feeling warmth run through her body. Perhaps there was a desire there... she would have to see. Perhaps if he did not take action she might try to prompt him... if she dared.

That being said, she was unwell enough to do no more than
ruminate on such things as she lay in bed recovering.

"Let me get you some food, you must be famished, " he said, forcing a smile behind that mask. He was… confused… by her. She seemed so calm, so at ease with him, despite his strange visage. This young, elegant beauty who lay in the room he had prepared specifically for her.

She smiled warmly when he returned. The smile was at his presence, although Erik assumed it was for the food.

"Erik..." she breathed, still weak. "Thank you. For everything." She met his eyes without resistance.

An act such as that would scare a lonely hermit away to brood alone in his own room.

Days later, Christine was aching for a bath. A week of sweating and other unfortunate, embarrassing bodily expellings, she was ready to return from the dead.

Erik entered with a dose of medicine and she finally found the nerve to asked, "Erik... teacher..." for she had not addressed him or even
spoken that much, "would it be possible… to clean up a bit? I am ready to rise."

Eric took a deep breath, swallowing as he set the medicine down. "Of course. I have that here, nearly… everything you could need here," he told her, motioning for her to follow him. "How are you feeling?" he asked, as he led her through the lair to an alcove which had a sunken pool in it, natural steam rising from it; a hot spring, of sorts, or at least that was how it appeared.

She looked at it in wonder. It didn't look like the murky lake she had seen in passing. The water was fresh, clear. And oh so inviting. She looked to him for confirmation, not even remembering his question.

He nodded, giving her a small smile. "I've spent considerable time making this place hospitable. It's one of the finer refuges in this city, I would wager," he explained, moving to a stack of towels he had neatly folded. "I have clothes for you that I believe will fit you quite well, if you would like to change."

She shook her head with a wondrous smile. "You really are a phantom, aren't you? Such magic... "

"I wouldn't suggest it to be so much magic as careful planning and execution." He offered her a reassuring smile. "There are so many secrets that I will share with you, in time."

A thrill ran up her spine at the words "in time." The idea that he wouldn't leave her gave her so much happiness, it surprised and confused her.

She stared at him, waiting for him to leave with a slight blush to her cheek,

He realized that he was lingering perhaps a bit too long to be appropriate and turned away. "I will get you fresh clothing. Please relax, enjoy your bath."

"Thank you," she whispered to his retreating back.

The shift she wore nearly peeled off of her and the rank odor that came off of it made Christine wonder how Erik would ever want to be in the same room with her again! She stepped into the steaming pool and groaned loudly. It was divine! She had never had a bath this warm, this luxurious. She felt like a queen.

She noticed floral scented soaps placed to the side. She took her time scrubbing the sickness off of her and even more time caring for her tumultuous, neglected hair. She didn't even notice that she was humming.

He returned, carrying a simple, yet elegant dress, complete with the proper undergarments for her to be fully dressed as a lady of her day. He found himself lingering, stealing a gaze at her as she bathed, realizing it was highly inappropriate yet unable to help himself.

"Is the water alright?"

She squealed, splashing water as she spun toward him, sinking deeper into the clear water.

"It's- it's wonderful. I've never had anything like this before." She felt her blush run down her neck and lower, below the water.

She was hidden by the water from the neck down. He smiled at that, hanging the dress on a nearby hook and laying the undergarments on the table. "I am glad you are enjoying it.." he lingered slightly, his gaze hovering over her.

"I...I should leave you be." He murmured, below his breath.

Oh, how her treacherous body reacted to his velvet voice! She sunk even lower, her chin brushing the water. She bit her lip and nodded.

As he watched that lip be bitten, he stayed; his hands subtly clenching into fists as he struggled with the desire to join her. At that moment, he would turn away, self loathing settling over him as he moved away, retreating from her.

Christine's thoughts embarrassed her. It was improper. He had done absolutely nothing to indicate that he had romantic- or even lustful - feelings toward her and yet she was panting after him like a young school girl. She was a young school girl, she amended. She was his student and she was crushing over a figure of authority. That was it, she decided.

Christine rose out of the pool and carefully stepped onto the rocky floor. She stood there nude for a moment, reveling in the indecent freedom of being completely stripped bare. Even at home, she was encouraged to only clean sections of her body at a time to prevent full nudity. But she couldn't help it; it felt amazing.

There were so many mirrors, so many reflective surfaces, whether it was the water or a bit of glass, or a polished bit of stone. When she lingered, Erik saw; his gaze locked on her; studying every inch of her. How he wanted to take her, touch her; taste her, explore every bit of her. He couldn't pull his gaze away, no matter how inappropriate it was.

She didn't feel his eyes on her. Not really. But some sort of awareness must have washed over her, Causing her to shiver. She took her time drying her body with the towel provided for her, compelled to move slowly and sensually.

She was a dancer. One from an impoverished background. She knew the ways of the world and the ways of men and women. She herself was not a maiden, although she had never experienced That "little death" the other girls talked about. Her experiences were uncomfortable, forced. It was the viscount himself who took her virginity. A spry fifteen year old rich boy cornering the thirteen year old daughter of the occasional entertainment in a back hallway, bullying her until she submitted. She was glad he did not remember her.

The other time was when she was starving- before coming to the conservatoire. Her father had just died and she had just arrived in Paris with nothing but the rags on her back. One does what one must on the streets.

With these thoughts and the lingering desire she felt for her teacher's presence, Christine dressed in the fashionable and undoubtedly expensive dress left for her.

He watched her dress, behind the mirror; each layer complimenting itself perfectly. Finally, when she had covered herself completely, he re-entered the room. "Do you feel better, Christine?" He asked. "That dress...You are beautiful," he said simply.

She flushed at the compliment. Providing a small curtsy of gratitude, she responded, "thank you, teacher, you have very good taste. It is a beautiful dress. And I feel so much more human now. Weak, a little nauseated, but I feel alive again," she grinned and shrugged, wrapping her arms about herself.

"Good. I feel that you will be back to yourself soon. Now that I know you are healing steadily, I can take the steps needed to make the opera house safe for you once more." He said, offering a faintly grim smile.

"What does that mean?" she had a sinking feeling that what he was implying would be something she didn't truly want to hear.

"There are people who are no longer welcome at the Palais. I will have to remove them," he said firmly, not giving any more explanation than that.

She chose not to pursue this line of questioning. She would rather not know if something unhonorable was happening. She would smartly prefer to remain in ignorance.

Christine bid Erik a goodnight -- she had no way of knowing what time it actually was, but she was feeling worn -- and retreated back to her bedroom to sleep away her fears.