A/N: As we continue counting down to the last 9 chapters... In this chapter we have a brief retelling of how Erik and Reyer met, and also a meeting between Christine and Erik. These last ten chapters (from Chapter 56) are a rounding-up of the whole story, so expect explanations and stories on the people in Erik's life, yes, even Raoul! I like to give a nice conclusion for all characters, without any ones left hanging.
Masked Man 2: Hah! It's like Erik could finally get rid of Carlotta, I think we've had quite enough of her. And well, what's going to come is 9 more chapters of happy fluff and epilogues (;
marial0789: Yes! This time they're back together for good!
Nikki1991: Only happiness for the both of them from now on (:
Lydia the tygeropean: Thank you (:
ErikLover2283: We-ell... I thought it wouldn't really be necessary to write a kiss scene, since all the emotions Erik felt was encompassed in that one hug. Plus, they did live in the 19th century, and it wouldn't have been common practice to kiss someone you're not married to in public, in front of an audience haha! They are a loving couple, though, just perhaps not so touchy/kissy, but it doesn't make their relationship any less loving. (: I do like long reviews! (The new manager's name is something like Al-fons, I think.)
E-man-dy-S: Haha, cliffies are my specialty! I did have a lovely Christmas, and thank you!
DecoyDream: Thank you very much! I've never really liked the idea of Christine as a villain (poor girl was just confused), and I'm glad you like it this way too!
Thank you to all new favourites/followers. xx
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Chapter 57: Erik and Reyer
Paris, 1899
"Sit first," Erik said gently, guiding Amélie to sit back down. She sat down, and Erik gestured for Antoinette and Eustache to sit.
Antoinette poured them all tea, and Erik took a sip gratefully before beginning.
"Do you not recall the time you came to me with a card passed to you by Eustache?" He gestured to Reyer.
Amélie looked startled. "Yes, but that was a long time ago."
"We had a little quarrel," Erik remembered with a small smile. "But that made me think. I started to plan. I was envisioning a future for myself. For us.
I began to write short music pieces, collating them into a portfolio of sorts. And every night, I sat and stared at the card. It was a tempting offer, and I did not have the guts to do it. I thought for a very long time.
It took me a lot of courage to step out of my house that one evening. It was one of the few times I'd been out on the street before the sun set, since I'd returned to Paris. I made my way to the address printed on the card, and when I reached, I asked to see the owner."
Reyer laughed. "My brother was shocked to see a man dressed entirely in black, with a hat covering his whole face, turn up on his doorstep. But Eugene remembered that I had told him about the mysterious composer I'd discovered, and that I had passed his card along to him."
"Yes," Erik said. "That was back in 1894. I showed Eugene – Reyer's brother and the owner of the publishing company – my portfolio, and he said that if I could produce a manuscript, he would be willing to publish it without any prior down-payment. It was a gamble of sorts for him."
"But a very worthwhile gamble," Reyer interjected proudly. "Musique sold out in every single bookstore."
"Yes, well," Erik said, his face red. "I worked on the manuscript alongside Don Juan Triumphant, and in 1896 I'd finally produced something that I was satisfied with. Musique.
When Musique was met with roaring approval from the musical world, I decided to take my chances. The world could take me as I was, if they wanted my music. I wanted more. I wanted to publish under my own name, not to hide under a pen name. But more than anything, I wanted to see my own opera performed. Call it greed, perhaps. The night Eustache and his brother called us together to celebrate the success of Musique, and I very solemnly told them my identity as the Opera Ghost."
Reyer snorted in glee. "My brother almost fell from his chair, he was so horrified. He turned white and started to tremble, until Erik assured him that he could have killed him a thousand times over already, but had not done so yet, and would not be doing so in the near future. Always scared of his own shadow, my brother. But I had already suspected so, anyway. Erik knew far too much about the opera house whenever we had the chance to talk about music. He knew just as much as I did, and I've been here at the opera house for a long time."
Erik nodded. "I told them my plan for the future, and I beseeched them for their help. I needed a backup plan. Should Don Juan fail, I had to have somewhere to go. We agreed that if Don Juan were to fail, I would take refuge in one of their houses, until I could appear in society as the composer of Musique. I did not expect to fail."
"And you would not have, if not for the bumbling vicomte and his cheap shot," Reyer harrumphed, crossing his arms. "Don Juan was a piece of musical genius, and I was honoured to have conducted the orchestra that night."
"What happened that night, Erik?" Antoinette asked. "How did you escape, and why did you not send word?"
"I escaped through the trapdoor with Christine, and I told her to leave before running away. Before the opera began we had already arranged for Eustache's brother to be waiting at a specific location with his carriage, should anything happen."
"And it was very fortunate indeed that was waiting there," Reyer said gravely, "for Erik was badly injured and could not have gotten far by himself."
"I'm sorry I did not send word, though," Erik said quietly, taking Amélie's hand and pressing it to his lips. "I wanted to. Every single day."
"He could not have," Reyer said firmly. "We wanted no evidence to show that the Opera Ghost could still be living. As far as the public knows, the Opera Ghost vanished the night of Don Juan, never to return again, and it will be kept that way."
Amélie smiled wanly. "You're back, and that is all that matters."
Erik squeezed her hand gently, and looked to Antoinette. "Antoinette… I'm sorry I did not send word. You must have been worried."
"Worried?" Antoinette sniffed. "I would not waste my time worrying over you, indeed."
But she smiled, and Erik could see that all the worry and fear she had felt over his disappearance was reflected in her eyes, and her eyes were now misted over with tears. He got up and walked over to her, and very awkwardly patted her on the back. Antoinette leaned forward, wiping her eyes and giving him a very quick hug.
"I'm glad you are back, Erik." She whispered.
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Erik spent the rest of the day sitting in the theatre, listening in to the orchestra and giving Reyer comments on the music. For the most part of it, many of the opera house employees grudgingly listened to his advice and accepted it, but some still gave him a wide berth when they passed by him in the corridors, whispering behind their cupped palms about his appearance. Erik bore these incidents with clenched fists and a stolid jaw, forcing himself not to think about what they were saying about him. I made the choice to step out of the dark, and I'll be damned if I let them make me regret the decision. Occasionally, he caught sight of Amélie, but she shook her head with a small smile whenever he made to go over to talk to her; they were not supposed to know each other, and Erik could not expose himself. He merely gritted his teeth and forced himself to wait the rest of the day out, for they had agreed to meet in a small street near the opera house at the end of the day.
"Angel?" A voice called out softly to him. "Angel, is that really you?"
Erik turned sharply.
Christine stood behind him, a small smile on her lovely face, her fingers twisting the fabric of her skirt nervously. She looked older than her age, and Erik felt guilt for having put her through so much. She was young to have gone through so much turmoil in her life.
"Christine!" He said softly, looking around to make sure that nobody was around to overhear their conversation. "Christine, how have you been?"
It felt strange, a conversation that started with pleasantries between the two. When he had been her teacher, they had barely had time to speak of mundane matters like that.
"That was a question I wanted to ask you," she smiled mournfully. "Angel, you are back! I thought—I thought… Oh, I am so, so glad. Where have you been, Angel?"
"Ah, that is a long story meant for another day. But come now, Christine… have you been well?"
"I have been… well enough. I worried every day for you, but not as much as Amélie worried, I am certain. But I knew you would be back."
"And what of the vicomte?" He asked cautiously, wondering if he was pushing the topic too far.
She shrugged seemingly nonchalantly, but he had seen the flash of pain in her eyes. "He comes by occasionally, to beg for my forgiveness again, and yet again. But I have no forgiveness to bestow upon him. He knows he did wrong that evening, but his wrongdoings cannot be undone by an apology. Besides, it is not my place to forgive him. It is yours. He did you wrong. I cannot forgive him until you do."
She sounded old. Erik swallowed a lump in his throat. Her tenuous relationship with her teacher and her fiancé had only caused her much anguish, and Erik reminded himself that she had been torn between staying loyal to her teacher or her fiancé, and it was not an enviable position to be in.
"If it will make you feel any better, Christine, I will forgive him," he said gently.
She shook her head vehemently. "Your forgiveness should not come so easily, Angel. Indeed, he should not be apologising to me, but to you. I could not make him do that because you had disappeared. But there is no way for him to do that now, because your identity is a secret, and oh…!"
She broke off, seemingly at a loss for words, her eyes suddenly glassy with tear. Erik sighed. It was not the time or place for such a conversation. The walls in the opera house had ears, and Erik did not wish for anybody at all to hear any part of their conversation and misunderstand. He could hear some excited chatter coming from around the corner, and suspected that some ballet rats might pass by any moment. No, this conversation would have to happen some other time.
"We shall drop this matter for now, Christine, for it is upsetting you. We cannot continue this conversation here, and besides, I shall need to go now, but we will talk about this again in the future." Erik assured her, patting her on the arm and swiftly left for the manager's office before anyone spotted them.
After his meeting with Belcourt, Erik rushed to collect his coat and bag, and almost ran out of the opera house in his haste. He walked quickly to the street, his breath coming in short pants until he saw her standing in the shadows, a smile on her face. He reached out to give her a quick one-armed hug.
"Shall we?" She smiled and took his arm, and the two walked down the street together.
It was a relatively cool evening, and the sun was dipping beyond the horizon. A gentle breeze blew past them, blowing little tendrils of bronze hair across Erik's face.
"So," she began. "How was your first day at the opera house, Erik?"
"Everything was different," he admitted. "For once, I had to follow a schedule that was not my own. I walked through the corridors. I listened in at the orchestra. Then I met the new manager to discuss matters about the opera house. It felt strange. But… I liked it."
She beamed at him as she squeezed his hand. "Erik, I'm so happy that you are back. It feels like a dream to see you walking around the opera house instead of hiding within the shadows."
"I know, Amélie," he said solemnly. "And I'm sorry it took me so long to come back."
She shrugged. "But you came back, and that is all that matters. You have only the future to look toward, now."
"Yes," Erik agreed, looking at the sky as the last rays of sun shone through the clouds, painting a glorious picture of saffron and lavender and dusky rose, a sight that filled him with hope. "I have a job at the opera house now, imagine that!"
He sounded awed, and Amélie had to laugh at that. "What are your plans for the future?"
"I spoke to Belcourt, and he seems interested in debuting an original opera. But I have no plans for that at the near moment, because I'm concentrating on my second manuscript, to be published soon. In the meantime, I will be helping out in the opera house with the new production."
She nodded and giggled. "It feels strange to be talking about the opera house together, out here in the street, doesn't it? We have come a long way, Monsieur Le Fantôme."
He laughed and chucked her under the chin. "Indeed we have, my little rose. Now, show me the shop where you first bought me chocolate peppermints. I have a particular craving for them."
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A/N: Aaaaand my favourite chocolate peppermints makes its appearance again! Hope you all enjoyed the story, and please do fav/follow/leave a review and let me know what you think (: xx hazel