A/N: Juliet and Erik return! Enjoy!
Juliet laid her masquerade costume out on her bed, arranging the various pieces of it. The dress was a soft gold color with darker gold highlights in various places and her mask was light gold as well with a sparkly edging. Bridgette helped her pick it out, insisting it brought out the tiny flecks of gold in her eyes.
Erik, feeling uncomfortable around her father, had moved out of the guest bedroom and into a flat about a block away. Her father had been a shade of poorly disguised delighted when this occurred, which irritated Juliet in ways she could not express. However, they continued to see each other and grew ever closer, much to the older man's dismay.
A knock at the door brought Juliet trotting out of her room to see who it was. When she opened the door, a hazily familiar face greeted her. "Hello, Juliet," he said with a slightly shy smile, brushing an errant strand of hair out of his eyes.
For the life of her, Juliet could not place who it was and turned slightly pink. "If you don't mind my asking, who are you, exactly?" she inquired, hoping she didn't sound too blunt or rude.
Her comment didn't seem to faze him. "Well, I suppose it's been a long time since we met properly, hasn't it? I only saw you for a fleeting instant at the party on Christmas Eve," he said pleasantly and Juliet suddenly recognized the handsome young man as Tristan Durand, one of her closest friends from childhood.
"Tristan? My goodness, it's been a long time!" she exclaimed. "Won't you come in?" Juliet hadn't really sean Tristan since she was eleven or twelve. Together, they'd driven both of their fathers to their wits' end with various escapades that left them giggling and the men nearly tearing their hair out.
He flushed a little. "Ah, no. No thank you. I was just wondering if, um, if you'd like to go to the masquerade ball with me?" he stumbled over his words gracelessly. Juliet fidgeted, she had already made plans for a walk, dinner and then the dance with Erik. Her stitches had come out the day before, revealing that, unsurprisingly, Juliet had another scar to add to her collection. Erik was angry all over again when the doctor told him about it.
"I'm sorry, but I think I'll have to decline," she said apologetically. "Erik and I are already going together." His face fell, shoulders slumping. "I do have some time if you'd like to go to lunch, though," she suddenly said, not liking to see her childhood friend sad.
He perked up a bit she couldn't help but think he looked a little like a puppy with wide, pleading eyes, somewhat large ears, and a hopeful countenance. "That sounds lovely, would now suit you? I'm sorry, I tend to be a bit sudden at times," he said, hands shoved deep in his pockets. She smiled gently, getting her cloak from the rack beside the door. As much as she liked Tristan, she had a fraction of a memory he was a chatterbox to say the least.
The memory proved to be unfortunately accurate; he only came up for air when they arrived at the restaurant and he requested a table for two. He was recounting their many escapades as children which made Juliet laugh at times, but her head was also pounding from the constant deluge of speech. She hoped he would cease a little when they got their food.
"How was Paris?" he inquired after they were seated and eating. "Your father said you were working as a chorus girl at the Opera Populaire?"
Juliet nodded, wondering just how much her father had spoken to him about. "Yes, for two years. I was prima donna for a very short time before I left to come back home." His eyes widened in surprise and he took her hand in a gesture of congratulations, his palms sweating profusely.
"That's wonderful! But why did you leave?"
"There was a fire and I decided to come home. Erik lived at the Opera House since he worked there—" she wasn't entirely sure worked was the right choice of words for Erik's role at the Opera Populaire, "—and he expressed a desire to come to Normandy to seek work here."
Tristan stiffened almost imperceptibly at the mention of the former Opera Ghost, but continued in the conversation as though nothing happened. "Has he found work yet?"
"Not that I'm aware of, but I know he's looking. I'll ask him when I see him."
Soon, their conversation turned to lighter topics, like what Tristan had been doing since the last time they had a chance to properly chat. As it turned out, he'd applied for a position at the architecture school in Normandy and was now apprenticed to one of the more notable architects in the city.
"Really? What an amazing turn of luck! I had no idea you had such an interest in building, Tristan," Juliet said, smiling over the rim of her tea cup at him. He flushed with pride, beaming widely.
"Thank you. Well, to be honest, I didn't either. Initially, I wanted to go to the art college a few blocks from here but my mother and father insisted that painting would only lead to a hard life without much money." His shoulders dropped momentarily.
"That's not necessarily true though," said Juliet, feeling sorry for the young man. She remembered he had shown quite an aptitude for art in primary school. "There are plenty of artists who are successful and well-to-do."
"Perhaps, but architecture is still sort of like art, yes? Only, I'm drawing buildings that haven't been built yet, rather than ones that have been around for quite some time."
"I suppose you have a point. You're happy with what you're doing, right?"
"Yes, of course. The work is satisfying and my employer is very good to me."
"Then I think that's all that matters." Juliet looked at the clock behind Tristan's head and started. "Oh my, is it really this late already? I should go." She nodded a goodbye and stood as if to leave, but Tristan caught her hand tightly. His eyes were wide.
"Will I see you again?" he asked and then caught himself, blushing furiously. She laughed at his dramatic act which she would later come to know was not as much of an act as she previously thought.
"Certainly, silly! I live here now, I can pop by to say hello or vice versa as often as you like. Maybe I'll see you tonight. I'll save a dance for you just in case." She softly pulled her hand from his, donned her cloak, and left the restaurant. Only in the future would she realize her last statement was exactly the wrong thing to say to Tristan. He watched her leave with eager puppy-dog eyes.
Quickly, she made her way to Erik's flat and knocked twice briskly. He opened the door with a happy smile on his face. Juliet noticed he always looked a little unsure of himself when he smiled, as though he hadn't smiled much before now and wasn't entirely sure he was doing it right. Just a bit of his deformity extended to the right corner of his mouth but in her opinion, he had the best smile in the world because it was always so heartfelt.
"Good afternoon, mademoiselle, to what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. A chuckle rumbled deep in his chest.
"Unless my memory serves me poorly, I believe the man of this house promised me a walk down by the river. Am I mistaken?" she teased, stepping inside. "Is he in?" Erik closed the door behind her.
"Why yes," he replied, tugging her flush against him and leaning down to touch his forehead to hers. Butterflies fluttered madly in her stomach. "I believe he is."
Juliet laughed, pecking him on the lips quickly. "You seem to be in a good mood today, why would that be?"
He took her hand, leading her to the sitting room. "A certain someone, who shall remain me, got a job this morning that promises to pay very well."
"Fantastic! What sort of job is it?" Juliet queried, perching on the edge of the couch and waiting for Erik to get his coat and hat.
"I'll be teaching private music lessons on piano, organ, violin, and voice at the Opera for those who would like to expand their repertoire of musical ability and also for young children." He paused for a beat, taking in her expression. "Don't worry, my students will be a wide variety of ages and I'll always be face-to-face with them during the lessons," he added, most likely recalling the misadventures known as Christine's lessons through the mirror at the Opera Populaire.
"The thought never crossed my mind," said Juliet, getting up and crossing the room to tuck her arm through Erik's. "Shall we go?" He nodded and they made their way to the front door, only to be stopped halfway by Ayesha. She bumped her head against their legs and looked at the door meaningfully.
"I don't think so, my lovely feline," Erik shook his head, a half smile dancing across his mouth as he scooped the Siamese cat up and deposited her in an armchair across the room. "You would not like this weather, believe me."
She yowled in protest as they stepped out and closed the door. "If I didn't know better, I'd say she was a person masquerading as a cat," Juliet giggled.
"I would not be at all surprised if she were," Erik said. "She's done enough out of the ordinary things to make me believe just about anything is possible."
Until they reached the river, neither Erik not Juliet said much, but merely enjoyed each other's company. While they walked, Juliet rested her head on Erik's shoulder. A slight twitch shuddered through his arm and it felt to her like he was shying away for a brief instant before relaxing into her touch. Tilting her head to the side inquisitively, she stopped and pulled gently on Erik's arm so he came around to face her. It wasn't the first time she noticed something like this.
"Something on your mind, mon ange?" he asked.
She chewed on her lip, trying to decide how to best phrase her question. "Erik do I... do I make you uncomfortable at all?" she asked, mentally smacking herself. If you were looking for smooth, that was the exact opposite of it, she thought.
He frowned hesitantly, seemingly unsure of how to respond. "Why would you ask that? I can't think of anyone I feel more comfortable around. Have I not been acting properly around you?" He looked extremely concerned and ready to apologize profusely.
She shook her head, ready to head him off. "Oh no, you've been perfectly lovely to me, better than any man I've ever met," she reassured him, caressing his cheek. "It's just that sometimes I put my head on your shoulder or lean into you and you flinch away. Am I moving too quickly? I'm terribly sorry if I am and I can slow down."
"Your'e not moving too fast Juliet, I promise you," he said. "It's rather complicated, but you're the first woman I've had a real relationship with and the kiss we shared on Christmas Eve... that was only the second kiss I've received in my life. Certainly the first truly unrestrained one. I'm just a it unaccustomed to affection of any sort, I think. I apologize."
Juliet stood on tiptoe so she was almost eye to eye with the man she loved—drat their height differences!—and met his gaze. "Don't ever apologize for that, Erik. It's not your fault, it never has been and it never will be." She kissed him softly, running her hands through his hair. When they broke contact Erik grinned, placing his hands on her hips.
"If this is how affection in relationships is supposed to work, I believe I could very easily get used to it."
Amiable conversation replaced the confrontation of feelings. At one point Juliet dropped back under the pretense of re-lacing her boot, but she was really packing a snowball together, which she quickly tossed at Erik's turned back. It skipped past his arm like a hand trying to get his attention. He turned in question and was met with a winning smile from Juliet. Shrugging, he resumed his earlier position. A second snowball made contact with his back and he whirled around just in time to see Juliet wiping the snow from her hands.
"Sneaky," he chuckled. "But nothing ever escapes the attention of the Phantom of the Opera!" As he spoke, he swiftly dropped to one knee and lobbed a snowball at her skirt. Shrieking with laughter she darted out of the way, feeling it catch at the deep purple material.
"Now you've done it," she said in a mock-ominous voice. "Have you ever heard of the saying, 'you bother the bull and you get the horns'?" She placed her index fingers on either side of her head and wiggled them.
He laughed, dodging one of her return missiles. "On a number of occasions, especially when someone was speaking of La Carlotta."
Eventually the snowball fight was abandoned and they chased each other between the trees, laughing and shouting the whole time. Juliet caught up to Erik and pounced on him playfully. He lost his balance in the fluffy new snow and they fell to the ground. Juliet laid on Erik's chest and he blinked up at her in surprise.
Suddenly, he gasped. "I didn't hurt you did I, my love? Your injury—"
She kissed him. "No pain here, love. Are you all right?"
"Yes, I think so—" he stopped abruptly, his right hand flying up to cover his face. "Where is my mask?"
Juliet became aware of the fact that his mask must have fallen off during their romp in the snow. He plastered his hand to his face, the other half rapidly draining of color. "I'll look for it," she said, sliding off his chest and digging around in the snow, cursing the fact that his mask was the same color as the cold substance. After a moment, her hands encountered something hard and smooth. Delicately removing it, she wiped the mask clean and handed it back to Erik. "It'll be cold," she warned. He nodded, pressing it back into place and hooking the tie around the back of his head.
Just before the mask went on again, Juliet caught her second glimpse of the deformity that made it necessary, in his mind at least, for him to hide from the world. The skin was extraordinarily thin in some places, making his veins clearly visible. It had obviously never seen the sun and was a sallow, yellow color. In some places, the skin bubbled and twisted in what looked like permanent wounds. His lips were swelled and dead-looking on the right side. She felt a rush of sympathy for him and stood up as he did, kissing his cheek.
"Thank you," he murmured.
"It was nothing," she replied, hugging him tightly.
"No, I meant, thank you for understanding."
They stayed out far longer than they intended to and nearly missed their dinner reservations. It was a quick in and out sort of meal so both would have time to get ready for the ball.
When Juliet got home, her father was wearing a plain black suit and an elegant, emerald hued mask. He sprang to his feet at the sight of her slightly disheveled state. "What happened?" he demanded.
"A snowball fight, papa. Don't go calling the police," she said dryly. He flushed irritably.
"I saw Tristan earlier. He said you two had lunch." There was something oddly eager in her father's voice, which made Juliet frown.
"Yes we did. Excuse me, Erik's coming to pick me up in about an hour and I need to get ready."
His face fell. "You're not going with Tristan?"
Juliet restrained an eye roll mightily. "No papa, I'm not. Erik asked first. I said I'd save a dance for him, though. We've been over this, Erik and I are together and we're both happy. Why can't you be?" She sighed and brushed past him, locking her bedroom door behind her.
Not wanting to be late, she quickly brushed out her hair and twisted it into a simple updo, into which she wove a few pearl strands from her aunt on her sixteenth birthday. Since she would be wearing a mask, she only put on minimal makeup. Carefully, she wiggled into her dress and fastened the buttons on the back. It pooled at her feet like molten sunlight. On went the mask and she tied it securely above the knot of her hair. A knock at the door made her hurriedly step into her shoes and snatch up her purse before dashing down the stairs to get there before her father did.
She just beat him to it. "Hello, Erik," she said as he took her hand and kissed it delicately. "You look wonderful." She turned to her father and pecked him swiftly on the cheek before turning back to Erik.
"You look absolutely stunning," he said, rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand. Together, they got into the carriage that Erik hired since he hadn't had time to buy one or employ a driver.
"Sorry about papa," she said. "He still doesn't get it. I'll make sure to tell him you've got a job tonight." Juliet laid her head against Erik's arm. He, like her father, wore a plain yet nice suit. But his mask was far more grandiose. It was white, but it covered his whole face save his mouth and eyes and was edged in a bold red. In Juliet's opinion, it was far better than the Red Death costume because there was no looming sense of dread or impending disaster.
"I'm not sure that will help, but it's certainly worth a try I suppose," said Erik, putting an arm around her shoulders.
At the dance, they managed to dance for three songs uninterrupted before Tristan popped up. "May I cut in?" he queried quietly, shuffling his feet awkwardly. Juliet nodded, allowing herself to be led away by her childhood friend.
As they danced, Juliet winced at regular intervals. Tristan was a supremely awful dancer and stepped on her toes regularly. He apologized about half of the time because he the other half he didn't realize he was doing it.
"Juliet, you wouldn't happen to be free some time soon for dinner, would you?" he asked after apologizing for crushing her toes for the hundredth time.
"I'm not sure," she lied, giving him a sharp glance of inquiry. I'll let you know if I have a free spot in my schedule." The song ended and Juliet got herself back into Erik's arms as soon as possible.
"Who was that?" he asked as they walked toward the refreshments table.
"A friend of mine from when I was young. His name is Tristan Durand. He's just a friend." At that moment the clock struck midnight and Erik and Juliet shared a sweet kiss that spoke without words of hope, joy, and promise in the new year.
She would only find out some time later how wrong Tristan thought her previous statement was.
A/N: Bum bum BUUUMMM! Drama!
Guys, do you remember the mercenary veteran Gaston was talking to in the last chapter? Should I give him a more prominent part or keep him in the background? 'Cause I have an idea, but I'd like some feedback before I actually write the chapter.
Review? :)