Christine dans Deux

An Alternate Multiverse - A Phantom of the Opera Story

Nyasia A. Maire

© 2006

DISCLAIMER: See Chapter One
Chapter Three – The Phantom's Lair

I gasp and instinctively grab his shoulder tighter to steady myself. I blink and shake my head.

"What on earth just happened?"

I look at Erik who was very still and silent. I follow his gaze and see that my den is gone and we are now somewhere else.

Erik rose to his feet and stared about him. I look about me and realize where we are.

"So, this is your home." I say simply.

It is almost just as portrayed in the movie but with several important differences. There are no drawings of Christine Daae anywhere. The alcove, which in the movie was occupied by the Christine mannequin, is occupied by a large bookcase, a lamp and a small chair.

He walked to his desk and picked up something small and white. I walk closer and see he held one of his masks. He turned to me and an unspoken question was asked and answered. A small grateful sigh escaped his lips as he returned the mask to the desk.

The two of us had only short moments ago, pleasured one another in a way that was beyond even the most secret of our imaginings. We stood together in his home and felt as awkward as two teenagers. Neither one of us wished to spoil the memory of our shared passion by speaking of it. Both of us too frightened that the other regretted the moments we later discovered we treasured. Both of us standing there, acting as if nothing had happened between us. Both of us standing there, wanting nothing more than to begin the act all over again. We stood there afire with need and played the parts of polite strangers.

"Do you care for me to show you my home?"

I felt there was some sort of subtext to his question, a subtlety that escaped me, but I was too happy to care and had no desire to puzzle it out. Now, while I write those words, I see that he was asking me if I cared for him. (I do.)

"Of course. Lead the way, Monsieur."

Erik's "rooms" consisted of his main living room where he designed, drew, painted, wrote and composed; the small library alcove; and several steps which led up to the cavern he used as his bedroom. The bed was beautiful. Fashioned in the form of a swan (perhaps, he knew the story of the ugly duckling) maybe a prop from some forgotten opera, I thought. There were lit candles and mirrors everywhere. I watched as Erik walked to a small table in his bedroom and somehow the music box was sitting there, not back on the floor of my den. He wound the music box and then placed it down on the table.

The music box played sweetly and I began to sing, "Masquerade! Paper faces on parade. Masquerade! Hide your face so the world will never find you."

I stopped abruptly as I noticed the look of shock on Erik's face. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

"Nothing. I had forgotten about the movie. Hearing you sing that surprised me. So, you can sing …."

His words were not a question, but a statement of fact and I shrugged agreement. After all, who am I to argue with the Phantom of the Opera? Finding a safe topic and one I happened to love (but about which I feel completely insecure,) I proceeded to dive into it with all of my usual self-deprecating humor and enthusiasm.

"Yes, I love music and I love to sing. Unfortunately, I'm not a soprano. Nope! No glamour bits for me. The sopranos have all of the juiciest roles. I don't believe anyone has ever written an opera where the lead female role is anything other than a soprano. Anyway, the choir director assigned me to the alto section. And there I remained. I used to drive the choir director crazy. I would try out for any and all roles up for grabs, but I was shy so I never hit the notes properly when I would audition. Never got any solos, but that's okay. I'm good, but not great, I guess. Anyway, the choir let me use my voice so it served its purpose. I'm not really sure why, but my mom found me a vocal coach. Those were the best six years, but as with all of my other hobbies in which I expressed an interest, as soon as I expressed the desire to make it a career, the lessons vanished. It was the same with my piano lessons. So I turned to rock and roll instead of opera. That was the one thing my parents couldn't take away from me."

"Rock and roll?"

"A form of modern popular music that is considerably louder and faster than any orchestra. A basic rock band consists of a lead guitar, rhythm guitar, bass guitar and drums. Other instruments can be added such as piano, but three guitars, a drum kit and at least one vocalist are the necessary parts of a rock band."

I walk to his organ and sit. I begin to sing and play "Stairway to Heaven" and then slide into "Long Tall Sally."

"Of course, this isn't exactly the right instrument for this, but I think you get the idea. We even have rock operas."

"It seems there is no end to how different your world is from mine."

"Well, as with all things, my world has both good and bad. Music is truly a good thing. I've always loved music. I have a pneumonic memory and music is the soundtrack of my life. If I hear something, I remember it. That worked very well for me up until I was 10 years old. Then I lost it. My hearing that is. A stupid accident. The worst part of it is the constant ringing in my ears. I miss silence. It's never quiet in my head! But, I've learned to lip read fairly well. I read lips and can hear my voice speaking those words in my head. In this way I can still use my gift of remembering what I hear. Where there's a will, there's a way, huh?"

I limp to the edge of the lake and carefully sit on the edge. I reach to touch the water and find it warm.

"Is this clean? I mean, it doesn't smell bad, but …."

He smiles. "Well, I don't drink from it, but it is clean enough to use for washing."

"Really? Oh, I love water!" I stand and without a second thought, pull my nightgown over my head, toss it onto a nearby chair and dive naked into the lake. The water is warm at the surface, but quickly cools the deeper I swim. So, I kick to the surface and find to my surprise that Erik is standing at the edge of the lake looking rather anxiously into the water.

"What's wrong? Oh, don't worry. I swim like a fish!"

"You were down there a long time."

"Not really." I roll over onto my back and float easily in the dark water. It felt so good, I wanted to purr. "Oh … I'm sorry, do you swim?"

"No. I bathe."

I laugh. "Come in, I'll teach you. I'm actually a very good teacher."

"I don't think … well, you … Madame, you're naked!"

"Oh, well, yeah. I didn't want to get my one piece of clothing soaked, so the best option seemed to be sans dress, n'est-ce pas?" I wink. "I guess I'm not a proper lady for your time, am I?"

"No, but most don't believe I'm a proper man either."

I almost make a reply to that, but decide to leave that remark alone for now.

I swim to the lake's edge and carefully walk to the edge where Erik is standing. "I love the water. It is the one place where I don't feel like a cripple."

I stand before him naked and dripping. We look into one another's eyes and I'm suddenly surprised to find that in an instant, Erik has scooped me up into his arms and is carrying me to his bedroom. He moves so quickly, it takes my breath away. He sets me down in the middle of the room.

"Please don't use that word again. You are so much more than that. I'll get you a towel." He walks to a wardrobe, opens the doors and after a moment produces a large maroon-colored towel. He returns to me, shakes the towel open and places it around my body.

I look up into his face and say, "Erik, the same can be said of you."

I feel the heat of color once more rise to my cheeks in response to the intensity of his gaze. "I can walk naked in front of you, but if you look into my eyes, I blush. This I do not understand." I sigh and plop myself down on his bed. "You wouldn't happen to have a cane or a walking stick would you?"

"No, but I'm sure I can find one in the theater or perhaps, Madame Giry could purchase one for me."

"Oh! She's real? I would like to meet her."

"As real as I am. Why?"

"Well, she saved you from the Gypsy, didn't she? You didn't kill him. He almost beat you to death and she saw. She hid and waited until he had gone then she broke you free of your cage and brought you here. That's what happened, isn't it? I can see it in my mind." I give my head a small shake. "That was strange."

"What?"

"I don't normally see things."

"Well, I believe that much of what we've experienced recently falls under that heading."

"True, very true. Could you bring my gown here? Or do you have something I can wear out into your world?

"Sorry, nothing here, but I'm certain the theater will have everything we need to clothe you properly."

"Erik …."

"Yes."

I begin again. "Erik …."

I can't speak. My mouth has gone dry. If my walking before him in the nude hadn't caused him to make wild love with me. I don't know what will. Perhaps, my 21st century mores shock him, but it had been such a long time. Our early grinding against one another had fanned the flames of my passion for him. I didn't want to wait. I couldn't wait! To hell with everything else, I just wanted him, but I didn't know what to do or say. For once in my life, I just wanted. I wanted him. After all, I'd been thinking about making love with him for months. Every time I watched the movie, I would imagine his hands on me. And, then there were the dreams of him holding me in his arms. I shook my head to clear it.

My eyes must have said the words that my mouth could not form because he knelt down on the floor next to the bed, took my face into his hands and kissed me hard. I returned that kiss and more.

I will not write of how we spent the remainder of the night. Those memories are Erik's and mine alone and not for your eyes, Gentle Reader. Suffice it to say my dear Erik knows love and I discovered that I had never truly known it until that night.

Afterwards, we slept. Our limbs entwined and bodies still joined. I can't remember the last time I slept so deeply or was so happy.

And, then I awoke. Alone.