Disclaimer; I am neither Andrew Lloyd Webber nor Gaston Leroux.
Author Note; Hey guys... I'm not going to bore you with the 101 reasons that this chapter has taken stupidly long (it's almost time for my mock exams and I'm revising every waking moment...ahhh...) but it's here now, I'm sorry about the wait, and hopefully the next chapters will be up sooner rather than later.
I hope you all had a lovely Christmas and will have a happy new year!
P.S. The next few chapters after this one are the ones I'm really excited to write- there will be action, mysteries explained and *big grin* some much needed Erik/Christine moments! Hopefully I will be inspired to get those chapters up as quickly as possible :-)
Twenty- The Voice of the Heart
'Dear Erik,
I'll admit to you now that this letter you're reading, assuming I have managed to send it and that I haven't torn it up in disgust, is petty, childish and rather selfish on my part. I hope you can understand from the clumsy words that I write that I am not trying to nag you or harass you, for I understand perfectly that you are busy with the no doubt arduous tasks of tying the loose ends of your plan to liberate me. I worry that I have never told you how grateful I am and this letter seems, to me, to somehow ignore that gratefulness.
And now, despite what I had wanted, I have delayed the point for long enough. You will be wondering what on earth I am being so stupid as to write to you about. The truth is, Erik, that I write to you because I desperately miss you and would go so far as to write this letter to beg you, selfishly, to stop doing whatever it is you are doing just for a day, so that you can come and see me.
And this request is selfish, for I am not lonely- I have Pali, I have Raoul, but their company is not the same as yours. With others, I find that talking or even just existing there beside them can be a struggle, a fight to decide what stupid conversation to make, but with you... there has never been a struggle to decide what to say to you. The words simply flow, like music, and I know I can say anything in the world and you care enough to listen.
I stress again that this letter is merely a request. Do not oblige me if you are terribly busy, or if you do not want to see me. It is only that I do miss you, terribly, and it would restore me to a state of perfect elation if you were the one to visit me. It has been far too long, and besides, your visit need not be purely for social reasons- I'm sure there are many matters we have yet to discuss, regarding Paris.
I hope that all is progressing well, wherever you are, and eagerly await your visit.
Yours,
Christine.'
If he had known how many emotions that one crumpled, ink stained and even barely legible note would stir up inside him, Erik might have chosen to toss it uncaringly into the flames of the raging fire that danced with the hearth of the inn, which he and Nadir were huddled beside, gladly savouring the warmth which soothed away their aches and pains. His eyes had to scan over the lines again and again, his brain trying to read and re-read the scrawl, struggling to connect the fact that she had written these words for him. Christine Daae had written these desperate words and she had written them for no one but him. He ignored the curious glance Nadir gave him, not quite ready to break out of this silent rejoicing to re-enter the harshness of reality, where he knew the bliss of this letter and the meaning behind the hurried words would be obliterated once again by the tortuous knowledge that had she been writing to the Phantom, there would not be such love and awe in the note.
He had been astonished to find a letter in the innkeepers greasy grip when he and Nadir stumbled in wearily from the stable yard, so exhausted it did not register that the envelope was written in the handwriting of the woman he was enduring these hardships for. It was only after changing into warm clothes, forcing some food down his throat and collapsing into one of the armchairs- which had seen better days, perhaps in the last century- that his mind had been restored enough to even allow him to remember he had such a note pushed uncaringly into his pocket.
The words were both comforting and worrying; Erik knew, all too well, that risking visiting her in the clan when they were so close to just stealing her away anyway could prove to be the error of a fool. If a gypsy did happen to stumble across him then the plan would be shattered and he would no doubt be dragged before Emilian, who would soon realise that the wretch with the ugly face was the same wretch who had strangled the life from his beast of a father. As if triggered by the melancholy musings , his hands made their tentative way up to his face, moving the mask slightly out of place to allow his fingers to reach the tender skin beneath, which was sore and inflamed. He gently massaged the mutilated flesh there and groaned slightly in agony when his hand brushed a tender spot and came away covered in his own blood. Nadir saw this and leant forwards, his eyes urgent with concern.
"Erik, you've had your mask on for far too long- you need to take it off before it becomes unbearable and you can't put it back on!" Nadir whispered, his face going slightly pink, for he had always found the matter of Erik and his disfigurement an awkward subject, never knowing how honest to be or how to tackle the seemingly impossible situation. Nadir knew for sure that Erik's constant mask wearing actually made the deformity worse, as the skin was never given the chance to heal or to regain normal flesh colour, due to its lack of exposure. But if he did expose his face, he would probably be killed in the street from the unforgiving population of this disgusting world, who would feel no guilt about committing murder because he was ugly and monstrous to look at.
"Ah, a splendid idea, Khan." Erik groaned, leaning back in the chair and cursing as a steady drip of blood began to flow down his face, looking very gory and ghoulish. "I'll just take it off right here and delight the patrons of this festering dump with the spectacle."
"Don't be such as ass." Nadir snapped, glancing over at Raoul, who was laughing animatedly over cards and brandy with a group of what looked like merchants. "Do you really want me to call Raoul over here to help me drag you outside? Come on, Erik, you know that the cool air will do the, er, inflammation a world of good."
"You and I both know that you wouldn't dare to do such a thing." Erik replied in an uncaring voice, again starting to re-read the note, wondering absently if this eager Christine would be so eager if she was blessed with the sight of his hideous face. The texture of his warped, distorted flesh under his fingertips, still bleeding and weeping some other grotesque fluids, rather challenged the idea. "Sit down, you fool. It's been a long day, I'm sure you are aware. And now, this."
He offered the note over to Nadir, who took it with a surprised look on his face, clearly shocked that Erik would let him read such a thing without dramatics or a fuss. Reading the note itself, his face conveyed no change in emotion, although it was clear that the Persian was still reeling from the open and relaxed attitude Erik had surrounding this private note. Normally, Nadir would receive a sharp comment about being 'too inquisitive for his own good', a clear reminder of the days when they had been the Phantom and the Daroga and Nadir had nearly gotten himself killed many times when poking around Erik's private passages and lair, such as the boat on the lake or the third mezzanine floor. It was his career as the Daroga which gave Nadir his curiosity, and Erik had found it to be both a blessing and curse through their years together.
"Well, this is good." Nadir suddenly commented in a light voice, passing the ink stained paper back and slumping into the chair. "And don't give me that look, Erik, I wasn't being sarcastic. I think you should be pleased. She clearly cares about you- you can remind her of this if a scene does occur once she regains her memory. From what I have experienced, it is rather difficult to remain angry and resentful when you love the person."
"Khan, you have no experience of love and would have no idea what someone might do when hurt or upset." Erik scorned, and Nadir sighed but did not correct Erik- the fool was blind to the fact that Nadir was heavily referring to his brotherly affections and thus constant forgiving of Erik. "She will be hurt, angry, betrayed-"
"Yes, of course she will. But you will explain your reasons, you will tell her everything that has happened, and then if the brick headed ninny has any sense, she will appreciate that even if you had tried to tell her the truth straight away, she would have thought you insane and run from you screaming." Nadir rounded off simply, his tone abrupt. "I will help you. And so will Pali."
Erik sighed, stroking the crumpled paper delicately and wondering like a love sick fool- which he was, in truth- what she was doing right now. Sleeping, perhaps? Talking to Pali? Singing beautifully to herself as she completed some menial camp chore? Erik allowed a small smile to slip onto his face as he imagined it, her dressed in some ragged gypsy dress, her wild hair flying out in all directions as her lips murmured a song under her breath, a shining gem amongst the muck and filth of the clan.
She spoke of desperation to see him- Erik was certain that her desperation was nothing compared to his. He ached to see her, more than anything, and sitting there in front of the flickering fire, numbed to a sense of comfort and ease with happy thoughts of her filling his head, he could see no real reason not to go to her. The thought of creeping up to the camp perimeter and surprising her made him grin, but then his eyes flickered over to where Raoul was badly losing his card game but still smiling broadly at his less than honest company. Of course, if he announced that he was going to see Christine, the boy would clamour to join him and Erik was not enthused by the idea of sharing. He wanted her all to himself again, just once, and he liked to think that she would appreciate some time with just him too. There was always a sense of freedom when it was just the two of them, stumbling and laughing and being embarrassingly nonsensical with one another. He wanted to go to her, to see her smile and laugh and glow with radiance, and know that it was him and him alone who had caused her to be so happy. Such a thing would be impossible with a Vicomte lingering around in the bushes, distracting him and her as she no doubt lusted over his handsome face in girlish fantasy.
Gazing at the fire, and then down at the beautiful little note, Erik made his decision- he would go to visit her, but he would do so alone.
"You know something, Nadir? I am going to see her, tomorrow." Erik announced in a murmur, and Nadir visibly brightened to hear it. Though Erik refused to acknowledge it, Nadir always held his moody companion as his top priority, before all else, and he wanted nothing more than for Erik to be able to enjoy some time with Christine, who clearly wanted the same. "But I need you to do something for me."
"For you, oh dearest friend, anything." Nadir trilled, earning a disgusted look from Erik, although it was clear he was trying not to laugh- the fool was already giddy with the mere thought of seeing her again.
"I need you to keep Raoul occupied. I don't want him tripping along behind me- I want to make this visit on my own, entirely." He explained. Nadir noted, with some surprise, that Erik no longer seemed to have a problem saying Raoul's name in everyday conversation. His eyes didn't even narrow slightly, as they had done in the past- he seemed to not care anymore. How odd, that the Phantom and the Vicomte were becoming closer to being amiable.
"That will not be a problem." Nadir happily sat back in the chair, giving a satisfied sigh. "I will take Raoul with me when I run those errands that are long due. We still need supplies for the journey to Paris and I suppose I should collect that dress you had made for Christine, for her to wear during the performance. That should give you a few hours alone with her- if needs be, I'll challenge him to cards and get him so drunk he physically cannot leave the inn."
"If I didn't know you better, Khan, I'd swear that you sound as if you would enjoy that." Erik laughed, and Nadir joined in. "Well, that is settled then. Tomorrow you will distract Monsieur le Vicomte and I will go to Christine. You realise, Khan, that once this whole drama is over, our lives will feel so uneventful it will be tiresome."
"Believe me, Erik, life within a close proximity of you will never be uneventful." Nadir muttered, but in a warm voice, as Erik nodded a goodnight and swiftly left for the rooms upstairs, leaving Nadir sat in his armchair and shaking his head like an old man, bewildered by the path his life had taken and unsure of what was to happen next.
He stayed loitering in the corner of the bar, nestled by the fire, for a good few hours more, eventually helping Raoul to stagger in his drunken delirium up the stairs, narrowly avoiding being hit by the young man's limp, trailing arms or the vomit which spewed and dripped from his lips more than once. Raoul's tolerance to alcohol was so shockingly low that Nadir found it perplexing that he even bothered to drink- as he dodged the vomit again, he found himself desperately hoping that Raoul de Chagny would never drink again. When did I become the Vicomte's mother? Nadir wondered drily as he unceremoniously dumped Raoul onto his unmade bed and left him there.
He supposed, making his way down the darkened corridor to his own room and the peace of silence, that this was the fundamental difference between his tolerance of Raoul and his friendship with Erik- he loathed caring for the Vicomte, but with Erik, it was second nature.
"Nadir Khan, you are truly a fool." He shook his head and fell into the welcome comfort of silence and sleep.
Erik left early the next morning, dressing and escaping the stagnant air of the inn in favour of the fresh breeze outside before anyone was awake, even the innkeeper himself, who was still snoring propped up in a chair by the door. He stole quietly past the sleepy village cottages, with all their quaint stone and thatch and neat little gardens, and soon reached his preferred route, the leafy woodland paths. He liked the damp and the woody scent of the dewy air in that endless greenery, savouring the way the cool air tasted so delicious and seemed to open up his lungs with each deep inhalation.
He had never appreciated, before all this drama with Christine, that the daytime could hold beauty. Of course, to him, the endless seclusion and comfort of night time, with all her shadows and darkness, whose passion soared far higher than the facade of beauty, was still the undeniable champion of splendour and majesty. But now he could also not deny that there was simple joy to be found in daytime, whether it be from a walk through the woods, surrounded by the gentle green, feeling the rustle and snap of foliage beneath his feet, or just looking up at the endless expanse of a blue sky and wondering how everything could be encompassed by that great celestial blanket.
The smell of wood smoke soon alerted him that he was nearing the clan, and he was forced to duck behind the thick trunks of trees when gypsies came traipsing loudly through the dense greenery, chatting loudly and squashing nature beneath their feet without a care for it. They were hunting for edible treasures, and Erik found himself smiling evilly when he spotted the various mushrooms and little plants they coveted, hearing them squabble and berate one another when their ignorant eyes failed to find them.
Eventually, miserable with failure, they skulked back into their camp and freed Erik to pick gingerly through the clinging leaves towards the fringes of the camp, ducking and creeping through trees, searching for either Pali or Christine. Eventually he spotted a familiar looking tent, so he crouched in the bushes and sure enough, Christine soon came out of the tent and into the fresh morning. She looked up towards the sky and closed her eyes, stretching a little, so that the sleeves of her loose white shirt fell back down to her elbows. In the warmth of the morning, Erik instantly felt his blood freeze, his eyes taking in the sore, red, angry inflammation which covered her arms. With a clench of his fists, he saw how her lily white wrists were rubbed raw, in such a way it looked at is she had been bound with coarse ropes. He could do nothing save watch in horror, his mind frantically puzzling over how she could have come about such injuries, but the answer to the enigma was too easy to come to, and left him feeling so murderous and angry he very nearly went storming into the camp to grab it's filthy sadist of a leader by the throat, intending to squeeze the life out of him.
He couldn't risk that, so in order to distract himself from his murderous intentions, he hastily brought his foot down on a twig, snapping it and alerting Christine of his presence. She turned and looked, startled, and her reaction to seeing him stood there in the foliage made his heart collide with his ribcage so violently it hurt. With a glance to ensure no one was looking, she allowed a huge smile to break out upon her face, and she ran straight at him, barrelling into him and causing them both to fall heavily to the ground. Before Erik had any time to react, she pressed a delighted and spontaneous kiss to his mouth, before scrambling up and dragging him along with her deeper into the woodland, so that they would be free from spying eyes. Once safely hidden away, Christine grinned at him and threw her arms firmly around him, burying her face against his chest and laughing with euphoria. She seemed oblivious, in all her maddened joy, to the fact that he was still standing petrified with horror, and had not reacted to her at all.
"Erik!" she squealed, squeezing him as she said it, her wild curls sending the maddening perfume of roses and fires smoke and desire into his mind. But still, he was frozen by the sight of her abused arms, shuddering to think that perhaps the injuries extended further. "You came- you came! I assume you received my note; I'm sorry that I must have sounded so nagging and infuriating and everything else so annoying but I was so desperate to see you, I had to persuade you!"
He did not reply to her beautiful, beautiful admission, and then she seemed to realise that he was standing stiff and not embracing her. Puzzled and a little hurt, she drew back and saw that his yellow eyes were saturated with complete disgust.
"What is it?" she asked in a whisper, scared to ask for fear that he might turn her away. It was only when his trembling hands took her own and began to gently trace the raw marks that ensnared her wrists with pain filled eyes that she realised- he was horrified by the state she was in. "Oh. I understand."
Her erratic heart reminded her to be thankful that Erik did not know the full extent of the story, as surely that would crush him if merely seeing her sore hands made him this sad. She was glad her face was mainly unscathed too, for he gazed at her and gave her such a look that she began to tremble, imaging that he might be about to kiss her. Instead, he touched her cheek.
"What happened to you?" he asked numbly, though there was something certain about his tone that made Christine believe he had already decided exactly what had caused her to look like this. The certain guess as to who the guilty party might be was confirmed when she saw Erik's eyes dart towards the camp.
"Erik, please believe me when I tell you that it is nothing that we need to dwell on." She hurried to say, forcing herself to smile. The smile did not make things better- in fact, it made Erik look horrified. "Don't pull that face, Erik, please. Soon it won't be a problem anymore, so we really don't need to think about it."
"I take it my assumptions are correct then." He growled, shooting another vicious glare towards the camp and wishing he could hunt that feral animal down and rip him into little pieces. Christine also turned to look at the gypsy camp, taking in the array of colourful tents that just peeked through the green of the trees, a constant shadow hanging over her and the future. The thought of breaking free of that place, and being with a man she cared for so greatly it consumed her every moment, seemed so heavenly and perfect that it also seemed ludicrous to think she might be able to reach it.
But it would happen. She would fly free from this infernal cage- and Erik had responded to her pathetic note. The cuts and bruises melted away in her joy to remember that detail, to the point that her face suddenly broke into another huge smile and she flung her arms around Erik again, this time feeling him respond and shivering with pleasure as his arms went tight around her and his warm breathing kissed the top of her head. In that moment they could exist as a couple, entwined, happy to remain there in one another's arms and not needing anything except from each other. Christine slowly moved her head, so that it was nestled in the warmth of his chest, and she moved one hand to cup his face, the unmasked side, needing to be as close to him as she could in that moment. Nothing could touch her when she was in Erik's arms- nothing could hurt her. Because no feeling in the world would be enough to shatter the way she felt for this man, this perfect man, and she very nearly told him so. Neither of them had declared anything to one another; no one had initiated a passionate kiss, or revealed the deepest desires of their heart, or alluded to a future that would simply be spent together. But Christine knew it then, in that untouchable moment, that so much lay in the unspoken that it did not need to be said. It could wait, until they were free of this place. Christine could hardly wait for the day she would finally feel able to say it, and hopefully would receive an admission of love in return.
Eventually, with slightly blushing cheeks and stumbling a little, they broke apart and moved to sit together on the very same log that Christine and Raoul always retreated to for their conversations. Nestled amongst the imperious looking trees, occasionally having the early morning dew drip onto their foreheads, sitting in peaceful silence, it was an oddly perfect setting for them both. There was no awkwardness- Christine knew that if Erik took her hand now as Raoul often did, she would not be alarmed, but rather pleased. She looked carefully at him and was instantly surprised by how tired and worn down he looked, his skin tinged grey and his eye lids drooping miserably. He had clearly been working so hard, for her-! She wanted to cry.
When she worked up the courage to ask him a question that formed another of her reasons for needing to see him, he seemed to snap out of his tired daydream rather quickly.
"So, are the components of the plan set?" she asked softly, breaking him out of the silent trance, his eyes locking onto hers before he responded, as if he needed to find that connection with her. Neither of them could have known how the others heart was beating so fast and so achingly desperately.
"Yes. In fact, the details are very nearly complete." Erik still surprised himself that he was able to speak normally whilst sitting beside this woman he adored, trembling with love for her. He preoccupied himself by playing with the mossy bark beneath his fingers, and tried not to look at her perfect rose mouth, because he knew the urge to kiss her would simply overcome him and then he would forget everything he was supposed to be discussing with her. "Though your clothes for the performance are only being picked up today, and we still need to decide what you will sing, so that the orchestra can be given the correct sheet music in time."
Erik watched as she seemed to breathe a sigh of relief at the words, and suddenly realised why- his words had formed a perfect cue, an introduction, for her to ask a question which would seem mad to her, but just like the past to him. He smiled, gently, willing her to ask the question he could tell that was coming, just from the nervous way her eyes refused to hold his gaze and how she bit her lip- he didn't focus on the latter too much, for the overwhelming urge to kiss her rose up again.
"About the performance, and singing...I have been meaning to ask you, Erik, for I have no idea as to what I am supposed to do, what I am to sing, how I will behave in front of such a large assembled audience-" she said, clearly panicking. "I am so very nervous, Erik. I have never sung to an orchestra's accompaniment before, or fallen through a trap door. I am happy to try, really I am, but I simply can't do it on my own. It would be impossible- I would be too nervous to do it right and then the whole plan would come to ruins." She took a deep breath, and suddenly seized both of Erik's hands in her own. "I know that I will have to sing on my own. But...Erik, it is mad of me to ask, but could you possibly duet with me and help me fall through the trapdoor? If you were there, you could make sure that everything goes according to plan."
The beat of his heart and the delight of her words, like honey sweetness teasing the tip of his tongue or ice kissing a burned and feverish forehead, told Erik that this whole occurrence must be a dream, for it was too heavenly to possibly be reality. But here she was- requesting that he get up on stage and sing beside her. He would have had to suggest this anyway, as a crucial part of their new set up with the falling chandelier, but to have her say it first... Erik really did have to grip onto the bark of the log to stop himself from abandoning propriety and lunging towards her to kiss her until she was breathless.
"Christine, I- of course I will sing with you." he was elated, stumbling over the words in a rush to get them out, and she was so relieved to hear it that she actually cried a little, sparkling tears of joy. "In fact, Christine, I need to share with you the newest part of the plan. Nadir and I, when examining the theatre in which you will perform, came to a decision that will make the act of stealing you away far easier and less likely to be halted by Emilian. We have planned that the light fixture which hangs above the stage will break free during the performance, hurtling towards the stage, causing chaos and panic and providing the perfect distraction for our escape."
"You have arranged for a chandelier to plummet towards the stage?" she asked, her stomach bubbling with nausea just to say the words, and Erik froze- he had not said it would be a chandelier. She had put that word in herself- clearly, a distant memory was lingering and confusing her. "But don't you run the risk of hitting the audience, or of us not escaping in time?"
"It has been planned to our exact requirements, Christine, you needn't worry. I would never let you be hurt." He sounded so sincere, so serious, as if he would rather die than let anything damage her. The sentiment behind it frightened her a little, for what was a world without Erik? There would really be no point.
The unease she felt was clear to see and she was glad that Erik did not press the matter further, or try to convince her not to worry, because there was nothing rational about the fear which had seized her heart. Christine could not comprehend it, but as soon as Erik had described the plan, her heart had frozen and her mind had put up all the defences, telling her that this was going to end badly. It was as if just the mention of a falling light fixture, a chandelier, was enough to terrify her, without any clear reason for such a reaction.
"I think it would be wise for us to decide upon your repertoire now, so that I can ensure there is sufficient sheet music available. Once we have the music and the clothes secure, then I will ask Pali to persuade Emilian into agreeing to this performance. That will be the final detail- all that will be left is to execute the plan."
"If that is true, then I must ask you something now. I have a request." Christine replied quickly, still feeling shaken. "In fact, I have two requests. The first is that you never leave me for so long ever again, as I have missed you more than I have ever missed anything. " she smiled at this, whilst Erik swallowed hard against the intrusive pounding of his heart. "And the second... for our duet, we will sing that composition of yours which you showed me, the one called The Point of No Return. I want to hear your own music sang properly, as it should be, to a full orchestra and gaining the recognition I'm sure that it deserves."
Erik nodded, suddenly his euphoria gone. He felt terribly cold and worried all of a sudden, as if feeling that he knew it was all going to end terribly...a chandelier being dropped during the climatic duet of Don Juan Triumphant...if course, it was no coincidence that Christine had suddenly been filled with the urge to sing that duet, having just discussed falling chandeliers. Clearly her memories were closer than it would seem. He felt terrified that she was going to suddenly be overwhelmed with a rush of the truth, and hate him, but he could not deny her what she wanted when she smiled at him as she was then.
He truly was slave to her wishes, no matter how sure he felt that things were bound to go very badly indeed.
Meanwhile, in a dressmakers shop in a large town some miles from the village with their inn, Nadir was becoming very close to punching Raoul as the Vicomte again tried to dissuade the Persian from purchasing the dress Erik had selected. Raoul had been obviously horrified to see what dress had been ordered for her, clearly put off by its darker look and wanting Christine to resemble a virginal pure goddess instead. As a result, he was now tearing round the dressmakers, picking out huge elaborate gowns with skirts the size of circus tents and enough lace to make a million table cloths, all of them in varying shades of white, adorned with lace, frills and sparkle.
Erik's choice, and the dress Nadir was determined he would be leaving with, couldn't be further from the Vicomte's frilly tablecloth tents. Nadir only had to glance at the dress Erik had picked to know that his friend knew Christine far better than the Vicomte; the dress was a fairly simple cut which would not overwhelm her (being used to ragged gypsy skirts , no doubt a huge hoop skirt and endless petticoats, not to mention a corset, would be uncalled for and unnecessary, especially as she would have no one to help her get the contraption on in the first place, though Erik might fantasise about it...) and it was made of a very dark, luxurious red that would make her brown curls seem warmer and her creamy complexion seem that of angels. Nadir was certainly no expert in woman's fashion, nor did he ever intend to be, but it was obvious just from looking at the preferences of her two admirers as to who knew her better.
"Why is Erik deciding such matters- surely it would have made better sense to leave this side of things to me? He clearly has no idea that his chosen cloth is drab, dull and horridly dark?" Raoul muttered, stroking some white silk.
Nadir raised an eyebrow and again held himself back from throttling the boy. The colour of the red dress was passionate, elegant and classically beautiful, far better than these huge layered gowns which resembled a tiered cake and would only ever be appropriate at a ball.
"And why red, of all the colours in the world? Surely we should use the angelic charm the gypsy clan exploited- make her wear white, to show her innocence and youth. Surely you agree with me, Monsieur Khan?"
Nadir ignored him and purchased the red dress, chosen by Erik, and whilst he waited for it to be packaged he watched in amusement as Raoul seemed to reach the end of his patience, scooping up a dozen flouncy white gowns and buying them all, hoops and petticoats and corsets included.
"Just in case." He justified at a disgruntled looking Nadir as they carried their purchases out of the shop, one small package in Nadir's arms looking tiny compared to the veritable mountain of packages Raoul staggered under. "And even if she does not want to wear them to sing, she can have them for later."
"Later? Raoul, I hardly think Christine will go about Paris wearing a bright white ball gown." Nadir snorted.
"Perhaps she will have cause to dress up and attend social occasions." Raoul said softly, a gentle reminder that it was not set in stone what Christine might do, and maybe she would choose to go off and be a Vicomtess once the whole ugly truth was revealed. Hearing this subtle hint made Nadir scowl and hope that Erik intended on fighting with all he had for Christine. Because even though Raoul had money, and a pretty face, and a far less bloody past, Erik knew Christine better than anyone, and the voice of her heart as well as the facade she created every day.
I just hope he remembers that and doesn't throw it all away, Nadir thought gloomily, mounting his horse and sighing, the package in his hands another subtle reminder of the trials that were to come. Such deep and gloomy thoughts from buying dresses- Nadir almost laughed, knowing that if it were Erik here now with him, he would be able to make some dark humoured comment regarding fashion, and invoke much laughter. But one glance at Raoul, who was struggling to hold onto all his purchases and the reins at once, was enough to make Nadir hold back the comment and urge his horse onwards, in silence.