A/N: Hello, readers! It took me awhile to see that this had fifty reviews. Thank you all so much. :3
To the anon who asked if I was going to be doing a sequel... This story has a looong way to go before it's done, don't you worry. Or maybe you should...
Erik felt like his brain had been exchanged for something that could only think of Juliet; of her warm, soft lips, her shimmering brown eyes, her silky black hair, and her slightly flushed cheeks. If that was all he could think about for the rest of his life, Erik didn't think he minded all that much. Gently, he brushed his hand across her cheek to tuck a few strand of hair behind her ear. "Juliet?" he whispered.
"Yes, Erik?"
He had been about to say something romantic and voice his thoughts, but over the top of Juliet's head he saw Andre Leroux staring at them with disapproval plainly written across his face. His brows were furrowed, his lips were pursed in a thin white line, and his nostrils flared out to the sides. Erik changed the direction that the conversation might have taken and said, "I think your father just saw us."
Juliet craned her neck and caught sight of her irate father. She turned back with a huff. "of for heaven's sake," she muttered. "He never was good at accepting anything even slightly different from his vision of how life should go." Taking his hand gently, she led him through the crowd and out into the fluffy snow after bundling up. He thought his hand might have gained several extra nerve endings.
"It's beautiful tonight," Juliet commented. Erik nodded in agreement, watching the flakes of snow swirling merrily to the ground. They walked in silence for a few paces.
"Juliet, I'm going to do something that I haven't done in a very long time," he said slowly, hoping desperately that his voice was still moderately okay. He'd made up his mind, he was going to sing for Juliet. He knew she hadn't really ever heard his singing voice before. Mostly, it was just his speaking—and, if he was being honest, his shouting—voice.
"What's that?" she asked, stopping in the road and turning to face him. A stray hair fluttered into her face in the light breeze that had started.
Erik didn't answer, instead, he began to sing to the woman who miraculously loved him despite his many flaws and imperfections.
Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation.
Darkness stirs and wakes imagination.
Silently the senses abandon their defenses...
Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor.
Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender.
Turn your face away from the garish light of day,
Turn your face away from cold, unfeeling light -
and listen to the music of the night...
Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams!
Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before!
Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar!
And you'll live as you've never lived before.
As soon as he began to sing, Juliet's mouth opened slightly and her eyes grew wide. Slowly, her hand extended toward Erik and he took it gently in his, pressing it to his chest.
Softly, deftly, music shall caress you.
Hear it, feel it, secretly possess you.
Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind,
in this darkness which you know you cannot fight
the darkness of the music of the night.
Let your mind start a journey through a strange, new world!
Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before!
Let your soul take you where you long to be!
Only then can you belong to me.
As the song had progressed, Juliet had gotten closer and closer to him. Soon, she was resting her head on his chest. Erik closed his eyes in the ecstasy that came from having her near and breathed in the delicate scent of her.
Floating, falling, sweet intoxication!
Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation!
Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in,
To the harmony which dreams alone can write,
The power of the music of the night!
You alone can make my song take flight,
Help me make the music of the night.
When he finished, Juliet didn't move at all. Gradually she pulled away from him, a big smile spreading across her features. "That was..." she paused, her gaze turning pensive. Erik was gripped with the sudden, irrational fear that she had actually hated and she was just looking for a nice way to say so. "I don't think words could do your voice justice. They'd just seem insignificant," she finished. An impossibly happy feeling made Erik feel as though he might float away. She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.
"So, you liked it," he inquired, just to make sure.
She shook her head. "I loved it!" she whispered, taking his hand. Fingers intwined, they walked around town and watched the snow fall until Juliet began to complain of the cold a little. Knowing she was still a little weak from the injury, Erik picked her up bridal style and carried her all the way back to her house.
"Erik!" she giggled, protesting. "I can walk, put me down! I'm too heavy for you!"
He shook his head with a laugh, enjoying the sound of her giggling. "Mon ange, you weigh next to nothing. It's no trouble to me." All too soon they arrived at her house and Erik was forced to abandon the feeling of her nestled against his chest and put her down.
He smiled down at her. "It's late, cheri. I'll see you in the morning." He bent to kiss the top of her head, but was greeted by her lips instead. Not exactly a bad thing, he decided.
"Goodnight, Erik," she murmured, disappearing up the stairs. As soon as he couldn't see her any longer, a broad smile spread across Erik's face, his first genuine one in years, it seemed. Finally, he could be in love without any apparent troubles or snags. Finally. How relaxing it was.
He was already in the guest bed with Ayesha curled up at his feet before he he remembered the problem that went by the name of Andre Leroux. His eyes snapped open and he felt a small piece of uncertainty pierce his seemingly impenetrable joy. With a sigh, Erik rolled back over and pushed the thought out of his mind. The problem needed to be addressed, but it could wait.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
As soon as Juliet got up to her room, she beamed with utter bliss and spun around her room with her arms spread out wide. Erik wasn't perfect, not by a long shot, but he was perfect for her.
Carefully avoiding her stitches. She put her nightgown on and got into bed, pulling the covers over. Snatches of Erik's singing replayed in her head as she fell asleep. It was the most wonderful lullaby in the world.
The next morning Juliet woke up early. Remembering it was Christmas Day, she put on a deep blue house dress, tugged a robe around her shoulders, and stuck her feet in her slippers. Quietly, she tiptoed down the stairs and made her way into the kitchen. Somebody was already in there. It was Erik. He was wearing a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a pair of black pants, and was apparently elbow-deep in a concoction of some sort.
"Erik?" she called hesitantly. He turned around and smiled.
"Good morning, Juliet."
"What are you doing?" She wandered over to him. "It certainly smells good. I didn't know you could cook. How did you learn?"
He kissed the crown of her head. "I do have to eat, you know. I suppose I learned through trial and error." A laugh escaped his lips. "Though it may have been more error than trial at times."
"It certainly paid off," Juliet commented, assisting him. The sound of food being prepared filled the comfortable silence. Juliet spoke again, "I'm going to make some cookies in a bit to take to the orphanage and I'll be going there later today. Would you like to come along?"
For an instant, he appeared to want to decline. Then, his expression changed. "Certainly," he said, caressing her cheek. Her flesh heated up in the places his hand touched her face.
A quiet, dry cough caused them to jump apart. Her father stood in the doorway with his arms appease him, Juliet ran to him and hugged him tightly. "Merry Christmas, papa!" she exclaimed. "Erik made breakfast for us, wasn't that nice of him?" She fixed her father with a stare until he nodded and mumbled about how nice it was.
Breakfast passed in a thick, stuffy silence that made Juliet want to scream. Her papa would, whenever Erik wasn't looking at him, glare coldly over the top of his newspaper. Erik was only marginally more civil. He kept himself restrained to disdainful glances out of the corner of his eye.
Finally, she couldn't stand it anymore. "When you two are ready to be adults, do let me know," she said in exasperation, getting up and leaving the kitchen. Once she was past the door, she pulled it shut behind her and listened to see if and when they would start talking and, most likely, arguing.
Not surprisingly, her father spoke up first. "Monsieur Erik, with all due respect, I do not think you are a good match for my daughter and I would appreciate it if you would cease your relationship with her."
"May I ask why you have come to this decision?"
"I don't think you are suitable for her. My Juliet is a sweet, fragile girl used to the comforts of home. She needs someone who has a steady, reliable source of income and is able to provide her with a stable environment. Forgive me for my bluntness, but you can offer her neither of these."
Erik was quiet for a beat. His voice had dropped a degree or two in volume and temperature. "Monsieur Leroux, I have hardly been in Normandy for a fortnight. As is the case, I have not had the time to search for a job. I can assure you I will have one as soon as I am able. As for Juliet needing the comforts of home, if my memory serves me correctly, Juliet told me she spent the majority of her young life away from home and in boarding schools. How, may I ask, is that an accurate representation of 'home comforts'?"
She could tell without even seeing that Erik's last comment had left her father livid.
"How dare you?" The sound of her father's chair skittering away from the table reached Juliet's ears. "Madame Giry told me all about you. How you've been living under that Opera House all alone for years and how you never take that mask of yours off. Why is that? What kind of a freak are you?"
A cry from Erik broke her vow of silence. Juliet went rushing back into the kitchen to find her father glaring angrily at Erik, who was turned slightly away from him and clutching his face. If she didn't know better, she would have thought her father had punched him. However, the white mask in Andre Leroux's hands betrayed what had actually happened.
"Stop it, papa!" Juliet pleaded, snatching the mask from his hand and returning it to Erik. "Please, both of you, stop. Both of you are right and wrong. Papa, I'm not fragile and I love Erik. He's not a freak. Erik, my father made mistakes, but I still love him. It is my choice in life to love whomever I choose. Kindly stop trying to make those decisions for me."
Turning on her heel, Juliet made her way up to her bedroom and locked the door behind her with a huff of irritation. Men, she thought disdainfully. A soft meow made her jump, adrenaline coursing through her veins. Ayesha sat on the bed, flicking the tip of her tail back and forth meditatively. A small chuckle was all Juliet allowed herself. She crossed the room and sat down next to the feline.
"Men are impossible, aren't they?" she asked the Siamese cat. Ayesha purred in what Juliet imagined to be agreement and made herself comfortable in Juliet's lap. "If only they could see how truly foolish they're being!" she sighed, stroking the cat's silky ears.
"I need to write some letters, would you mind getting off my lap?" Juliet silently berated herself for talking to a cat, but Ayesha's wise blue eyes were as intelligent as an ancient goddess's would be. With a meow of discontent, she stretched and burrowed beneath the covers of her bed.
Juliet got up and located her parchment and fountain pen. Her first letter was to Meg Giry.
Dear Meg,
I'm writing, just like I said I would! I'm writing this letter on Christmas Day, but I suspect it won't reach you until New Year's. In that case, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
I hope you and your mother are doing well. I've been worrying about you with all of... well, I suppose I shouldn't be writing his name just in case. Anyway, I've been worrying that he'd try to come after you if he suspected anything. I hope this letter finds you well and unharmed.
Erik and I have arrived safely in Normandy. And speaking of Erik, there's something I must tell you. Although, I think I recommend sitting down before you read it... Are you sitting down? Well, I'm not exactly sure what to say about this, but Erik and I are certainly more than friends. I would deem it too bold to say we've fallen in love, but it certainly seems as though our relationship is heading that way. I couldn't tell you how it started, but I can say that it all sort sort of came together last night when I kissed him at a party. Not much like the Juliet who came to the Opera House a few years ago.
There seems to be one snag, however. My father doesn't approve and a rather nasty spat ensued. I don't really know how it'll all work out. I'll keep you posted.
Yours sincerely,
Juliet
Next, she wrote a letter to Nadir.
Dear Nadir,
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! I hope this letter finds you well and happy. Erik and I arrived in Normandy without any complications. Although, one signifiant factor is making things a bit dicey with my father.
First, and do please sit down, Erik and I... to be honest, I have no idea how to describe the situation we now find ourselves in. We're definitely more than just friends now, but I feel as though saying we're in love is getting a bit ahead of ourselves. My father vehemently disapproves of the fact that we know each other at all, which is the complicating factor I mentioned. Do you have any advice on how to work through this rough patch? Neither of us have come up with anything.
How is everything in Paris? I'm sure you've heard of... well, his, plans by now. I hope it hasn't affected you in any way and I would be grateful if you could keep me up to date.
Sincerely,
Juliet
She finished writing and sealed her letters into envelopes. Her name wasn't in the return address since she was supposedly dead. She'd mail them on the way to the orphanage later in the day. Gently pressing a cool hand to the scar beneath her hair, Juliet took a deep breath and reentered the kitchen. Erik was nowhere to be found, but her father was sitting next to the shiny black stove with a worn hardcover book in his hand.
She wished to avoid a confrontation with him and carefully refrained from eye contact, beginning to make the cookies. It was a successful venture at first, but the issue at hand was like an itch. It demanded to be scratched and dealt with.
"Juliet?" her father's voice was soft, cajoling. "I know how you tend to dive into things headfirst, but—" For one of the first times in her life, Juliet interrupted him.
"Papa, please just listen. I know you don't like Erik, I know you disapprove of him. Yes, his past is hazy at best, but if you just gave him half a chance, you'd see that he's really not all that bad. He saved my life, papa. I would have been dead if not for him."
"If you're doing this because you feel obligated to him, you're not cheri," it almost seemed as though her father was begging her to see reason. "You don't owe him anything. Ma belle, please don't ignore me. There are other men out there, men who would love you more than he can. Men that could make your life comfortable."
"The last 'real' gentleman I met wants me dead, papa," she resorted to using a harsh tone of voice. It worked; he flinched. "And it's not because I feel I owe him something, because I don't. I helped him through a rough time in his life, he saved my life. I would guess we're about even now. To set the record straight, and I want this to be the last time I have to explain it, I love Erik. No tricks, no strings attached. And, I always will. No matter what you say." Tears were stinging the corners of her eyes and she blinked several times in quick succession to clear them. She didn't want to cry now.
"Cheri, I just want what is best for my daughter." It was a last-ditch effort. Juliet smiled sadly and pressed a delicate kiss to her father's forehead.
"Papa, I'm still your daughter. I always will be," she pulled the tray from the oven and fanned a hand over the cooling treats. "But I'm not your little girl anymore. I can make my own decisions safely." Putting the cookies in a large container, she left the kitchen and found Erik standing at the foot of the stairs. Setting the container aside, she pressed herself against his chest tightly, feeling his arms fold around her securely.
"Are you all right?" he asked, the low vibrations of his voice rumbling against her ear. She nodded a little, sighing deeply. A few minutes later, she leaned back and kissed his good cheek.
"Do you want to come to the orphanage with me?"
"Of course, I said I would," Erik nodded, going in search of his cloak and hat. They went by carriage at Erik's insistence, he apparently didn't want Juliet to overexert herself just yet.
"I never got to say this this morning, but Merry Christmas, mon ange," Erik murmured, taking Juliet's hand. She felt her cheeks heat up, and not for the first time, wished she didn't flush so easily.
At the orphanage, they opened the door and immediately were besieged by throngs of tiny children who came running out and attached themselves to their ankles. Juliet squeezed Erik's hands once, grinning at Bridgette.
"Merry Christmas!" she called. "I brought something for later."
Bridgette hurried over to them and embraced Juliet happily, kidding each cheek. "Thank you so much for coming. The children have been begging to play in the snow all morning and I can't watch them all when it's just me.
"Our pleasure," she replied. "I think at least one good snowman is in order, don't you?" Several children overheard her last comment and cheered in delight.
"Mademoiselle Juliet, help us!" Sometime later, Juliet looked up from where she was helping a small group hunt down a bundle of twigs from which to select a pair of arms for the snowman. What appeared to be a monumentally large snowball was talking to her. Chuckling, she realized that it had grown to be so large that it concealed its' creators entirely.
"I think that snowball is big enough, don't you?" she questioned with the beginnings of a grin curling up the sides of her lips, peeking behind the snowball to see three pairs of bright eyes, rosy cheeks, and pearly white smiles looking up at her.
"Yes, I think it is," Erik agreed, coming up behind Juliet and briefly resting his hand on the small of her back. "I'lll get it over to where you said you wanted the snowman, okay?" With seemingly little effort, he pushed it to the center of the yard, squealing young ones trailing behind him. When he stopped, they tugged at his trouser legs and begged to be picked up. Not once did they question his porcelain mask, all they wanted was to ride on his shoulders or be held in his arms. Juliet was sure that this was a very new experience for Erik, and one he enjoyed, judging by the look of joy on his face.
Softly she began to sing to herself, looping an arm around one of the saplings at the edge of the property and watching as the snowman slowly took shape.
There's something sweet and almost kind.
But he was mean and he was coarse and unrefined.
But now he's dear and so unsure
I wonder why I didn't see it there before.
He looked over and saw her watching. Something significant had changed in him. For the first time, there were no hesitations or reservations in his expression. Juliet realized it was because, for once, there was no one around him that was judging him for how he looked. He waved her over and she walked in their general direction.
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Erik couldn't stop watching Juliet, even when the little ones tugged at him, begging him to assist them. Every part of her was just so perfect. He discreetly kissed her cheek when no one was watching and they kept moving along with the construction of the snowman. She blushed and reached up to trail her fingers along the outer edge of his mask. The last time someone had done that, they'd ripped the mask off. She simply touched it briefly and continued with what she was doing. Erik was stunned at this action.
When she was inside the orphanage digging around for some sort of scarf and hat for the underdressed man of snow, Erik sang under his breath as one of the children made themselves comfortable sitting on his back.
She glanced this way, I thought I saw.
And when we touched she didn't shutter at my flaw.
No it can't be, I'll just ignore.
But then she's never looked at me that way before.
Erik knew they'd crossed the boundary of friendship last night, but he wasn't sure he could classify them as 'together' or 'in love'. However, the way Juliet looked at him prompted him to think that they were perhaps stepping into those two titles quite easily.
Maybe he shouldn't think about it so much. Over-thinking things tended to lead nowhere but problems and, if he wanted to be especially melodramatic, disaster.
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New and a bit alarming.
Who'd have ever thought that this could be?
True that he's no Prince Charming.
But there's something in him that I simply didn't see.
Juliet hummed to herself while singing these lyrics in her head while she and Erik held hands under the table. The children were eating the cookies with the gusto only children can and chocolate was simply smeared across each and every tiny face. Bridgette bumped her with her elbow and arched her eyebrows meaningfully. She gave a small, flippant grin and turned her attention back to the young ones.
Erik may not have been the perfect, noble, knight-in-shining-armor type of man she had dreamed about as a young girl, that much was true. But Juliet decided that maybe, he was better than anyone like that.
A/N: Why do these chapters always get way longer than I expect them to? Anyhoo, hoped you liked it! Things are going well for Erik and Juliet now, but in the future... *badly concealed evil grin* Who knows? Gaston isn't gone for good, I can tell you that much.
Review, please! :3