A/N: Thanks to my beta, Olethros.
As you can probably guess, I'm unable to keep up with a weekly update, but I haven't abandoned the 'fic. I'm still writing it and don't have any plans to stop.
Thanks for your patience.
Episode 10
By: Elektra
Daaé-Garner Residence
Christine lay awake in bed, worrying over the latest turn of events: RJ's sudden need to go on an entertainment magazine and speak about Erik's mask and his hobby as the ghost of Ravelle.
One positive thing came of it, at least - Erik had officially been declared the Populaire's artistic consultant.
It had been Firmin's way of sticking it to his son for his loose tongue, and a good excuse for the cast and crew should they ever happen upon Erik lurking around the Populaire regardless of his fiancée's presence.
Loki had now taken over the duties of 'resident troublemaker', causing havoc even when Erik was in plain sight. This helped squelch any lingering questions about the Opera Ghost's identity.
Of course, that didn't stop Erik from taking up his original title now and then, causing problems for those indignant about his new position – which, in most cases, were Sorelli and Jammes.
Christine was snapped out of her thoughts by an arm wrapping around her waist, pulling her back against a long lean body. "Unable to sleep, beloved?"
She nodded. "Erik…" she started, softly, "What if someone gets brave enough to see if RJ was right? About the mask?"
Erik brushed his lips against her neck, "They would regret it."
"That won't stop them from trying, though. I mean… it's already raised more curiousity about CAM." She shifted a little and he moved a few inches to allow her to turn and face him, "I went on the 'net the other night and did a search. Found some interesting websites and message boards with theories about what was beneath the mask."
"I've seen that myself. Did you find it humorous how many fans claim they would love me no matter what? These people do not even know me! I recall Jammes and Sorelli 'loved' CAM as well, until they found out I was him." He let out a harsh laugh, "I believe I have lost two fans. Ah well."
He glanced across the room at the mask lying with his clothes for the next day, his voice growing softer, "To be honest, there are times I grow weary of hiding. I am beginning to feel I only wear the mask for the comfort of others," he turned back to Christine. "Let the world hate and despise freaks. I care only what you think of me."
Christine offered a small smile, "Why? Because I'm the only one who will put up with you?"
His voice grew low as he trailed kisses down her neck and over her shoulder while a graceful hand sneaked beneath her tank top, "There are other benefits I have gained in keeping within your favour."
She closed her eyes, enjoying the attention, "It's too bad you can't get any of those benefits tonight." She answered reluctantly, "I have an early morning. Seeing someone about wedding invitations. Want to come? We should both pick them out,"
"Firmin and André requested my presence early tomorrow."
She raised an eyebrow, "So you have an early morning too?" she smirked, "and here you wanted to keep ME up all night."
"Well, I do not need as much sleep as you do, remember?"
Christine let out a soft laugh and gave Erik a quick kiss on the lips, then a longer, lingering one before she finally turned over again and spooned herself against him. She could hear his disappointed growl in her ear, but ignored it as she attempted to sleep.
Suddenly, something flickered before her eyes, and disappeared just as quickly. Assuming it was nothing worth noting, she ignored it.
The flicker came again, but this time it was in the form of a female's face. A strange, frightening face. Half was pale and beautiful, but the other half…
Christine sat up with a scream, only to be grabbed by a concerned Erik. "Christine?" She closed her eyes and allowed herself to fall back against him as his arms wrapped around her protectively. "What's wrong?"
"I saw something," she answered shakily. "It looked…dead."
"You do remember what you share your bed with, don't you?" He pointed out as he lay back down and pulled her against him.
She shifted in his arms and rested her head upon his shoulder. "This was different. This… was female. And… half beautiful, half… half dead."
Erik gently took her hand and slid her fingers over his face – and the hole that pretended to be a nose. "Like this?"
She pushed herself up a bit and looked directly at him, "It was… different," she insisted. "Cold and creepy! And… rotting. I mean… all greenish gross rotting."
She buried her face against his neck, "Maybe it was one of those things you see just as you're drifting off to sleep. You know, when your mind plays weird tricks on you."
"Perhaps," Erik replied, rubbing her back affectionately. He wasn't entirely convinced it was her imagination, though.
Christine let out a soft sigh and closed her eyes as she snuggled closer to him, "Sing me to sleep?"
He placed a light kiss upon her forehead and did as she requested. She fell asleep shortly after.
Outside the Populaire – the next evening
Singing along to a song on her iPod, Christine hopped off the bus and walked through the parking lot of the Populaire. Erik would come pick her up in the car and take her home after the performance.
No sooner had she taken three steps than she found herself surrounded by cameras, tape recorders, and microphones.
"Miss Daaé, over here!"
"Tell us about CAM!"
"Is it true?"
"Is he really a freak?"
"What is he hiding behind the mask?"
"I'm so glad to see the media's interest in the arts here at the Populaire…" a voice spoke up behind Christine.
She turned to see Raoul standing a few feet away, Philip beside him. "I see you've met our lead soprano, Christine Daaé," he put a hand on her shoulder, and Christine found herself grateful for the support.
Philip continued where Raoul left off, "I must request that if you wish for interviews, you call up the Populaire's office and submit a list of questions you want to ask. Interviews will not be granted otherwise, and bombarding our cast before or after performances is not allowed."
"Don't forget," Raoul continued, smiling for the cameras, "The Populaire's opera company alternates nights withour ballet company. This season's production of The Nutcracker will star the lovely Megan Giry as Clara. Thank you for your interest and we'll be looking forward to those interview requests."
With a firm hand on her back, Raoul led Christine to the stage door and away from the crowd. Once they were finally inside, Christine let out the breath she had been holding.
"Thank you so much," she said as she looked up at her momentary savior.
"No problem," Raoul replied. "You shouldn't have to put up with that crap, really. Erik needs to get this in hand, and fast.
Christine nodded, "I know. We were talking about it last night."
Raoul leaned down and met her eyes, "Tell him he needs to do more than talk about it." He pat her back, "You should get ready. I'll catch you later,"
"Thanks again." Christine answered. Raoul gave her a mock salute and headed off.
Dressing room
Lowell Key sat beside Oren, talking shop as his client put the finishing touches on his stage make up , "I was thinking that it was time you asked for a raise."
"A raise?" Oren repeated, brow furrowed. "What should I ask to be raised?"
Lowell rolled his eyes, "No, no Oren. I am referring to a raise in regards to your salary!"
"Ahh, you mean I should ask for more money?"
"Exactly!" Lowell replied, "Of course, my commission might need to be raised as well, but-"
"Your commission is already too much," Oren interrupted him.
Lowell simply stared at Oren, "Pardon? Surely you jest!"
"You are ripping me off more than you are helping me. Maybe it is time I fired you as my manager," Oren declared.
"But-"
"Shut up, trickster! I want nothing more from you!" Oren hissed, his eyes flashing gold momentarily. "If I see you again, you will be sorry…"
Disturbed by Oren's tone and attitude, Loki shifted into his natural form and quickly made himself scarce.
Oren watched the god disappear, then quickly blinked and shook his head.
"Lowell?" he called out softly. "Lowell, I… I did not mean that!" He stood up, looking around for his manager.
"Lowell?" He called out once again, "Where did you go?"
Oren momentarily caught sight of his reflection in one of the mirrors and slowly went up to it. Reaching the tips of his fingers out to touch the cool glass, he outlined the strangely golden eyes that looked so foreign in his face.
"Or rather…" he spoke to himself, "Where did I go?"
After the performance
Christine went through her usual post-show ritual. The show had ended a half-an-hour ago, but she had been feeling ill at ease all day, even during the performance. She wondered if it had been noticeable on stage.
Not only did she still see various reporters still milling about outside, but she had felt someone watching her. Someone that wasn't Erik.
With a deep breath, she cleaned the makeup off her face and closed her eyes. When she looked up into the mirror, she couldn't help but scream.
For a brief moment, she could have sworn she saw that frightening female face once again.
Seconds later, a full white mask was reflected instead.
She spun around and threw her arms around Erik, burying her face in his shirt.
"What is it, Christine?" he asked as he gently ran his fingers through her hair.
"The face. I saw it again. In the mirror!"
Erik frowned and looked up, "LOKI? Get over here! NOW!"
"Before you start blaming me for anything," a voice off to the left began, "I should inform you that our lead tenor is getting stranger and stranger! He FIRED me! Can you believe that?"
Erik and Christine turned to see Loki several feet away, looking rather distraught as he paced back and forth, "My meal ticket is GONE!" he cried out. "He.., he actually told me OFF!"
"I could care less about your personal disagreements with Orpheus," Erik snapped. "I want to know why you are you playing tricks on Christine!"
Loki seemed confused, "What tricks? I have done nothing to your fiancée!"
Erik seemed unconvinced, "So you are not frightening her with images of disturbing faces?"
Loki raised a fiery eyebrow, "Now why would I do that? She has to look at YOUR face every night. That is frightening enough."
Christine gently pushed away from Erik and turned to Loki, "This face was female. Half-beautiful, half-rotting."
Loki paled for a moment, then quickly blinked and shook his head, "I know nothing about that. Sorry. I… I need to find myself another client. Goodbye." He disappeared before either had a chance to question him further.
Erik glanced at Christine, "There is something he knows."
"So… I'm not going crazy?" Christine asked as sat down in the makeup chair.
"I do not think you are crazy. You are not one prone to hallucinations." Erik leaned back against the table, "HE is keeping secrets."
"Of course he is," a voice answered.
Erik and Christine looked to see a woman standing several feet away in the shadows. Though her face was hidden, long golden hair could be seen flowing gently down the right side of her head, long black hair down the left.
"He doesn't want to see me. He never does," the woman continued softly. "He denies my existence even now."
"Who are you?" Christine asked. "Why do you keep appearing to me?"
"I am often called Hel. And I appeared to you because I know you could get to him."
"Loki, you mean?" Erik asked.
She nodded slowly. "Could you speak to him, perhaps? Tell him I wish to see him face to face?"
"Why would you want to?" Erik asked. "He makes a rather poor father."
"Father!" Christine sputtered. "She's his kid?"
Hel turned around and walked a few feet away, a pout on her half-face. "Not that he would admit it."
Christine walked towards Hel, "You really want to talk to him, don't you?" she asked gently. "I mean, you seem so sad…"
Hel looked at Christine, who was slowly getting used to the eerie woman's face, "If you could speak to your father again, would you not want to?"
Christine offered a small smile, "I wish I could. Every day. He's long gone though"
Hel nodded, "My father is immortal, so I cannot understand loss in that way. My mother was a giantess named Angrboða. I do not know where she is either."
"Perhaps you may have better luck finding her than talking to Loki," Erik replied.
Hel turned from Christine and focused on Erik. She walked up to him, long black robes flowing out behind her. "You hide your face. Why?"
He shrugged, "If you wish to walk around in public, I would suggest you do the same,"
Erik's mask suddenly flew off his face into Hel's hand. He stood nonplussed. Christine remembered a time he would have immediately hid his face.
"But, you are beautiful. Has no one ever told you that?" she asked.
Erik let out a harsh laugh, "I have been told by only one person that I am beautiful, though even Christine will admit she is not speaking of my face,"
Hel glanced at the girl in question, then dropped the mask to the floor and moved even closer to Erik, standing almost at eye level with the tall man.
"Um, excuse me?" Christine spoke up, "Can you… maybe… NOT get so close to my fiancé?"
Hel ignored the petite girl and traced Erik's face with long black fingernails, "You would be my perfect mate. Both of us made of living death…"
"Hey!" Christine snapped as she pushed herself between Hel and Erik, "Find your own living dead man. This one's mine!"
Hel looked down at her, "You are a lovely little mortal girl, but a creature such as he does not belong to you."
Christine felt Erik's arms wrap around her and pull her back against him, "And yet, I rather enjoy belonging to her," he replied.
Hel let out a soft sigh, "Well, perhaps you may change your mind. Alas, I cannot force you."
Loki's daughter was about to say more, but something caught her attention. She furrowed her brow, then turned back to the two in front of her, "Is there another like you here?" she asked Erik.
Erik frowned, "Another like me? I should hope not."
"Then…" she stopped and shook her head, "Never mind. It was similar to you, but then it was gone." Hel looked back at Erik. "My offer still stands. I would gladly take you for a mate," she ran a hand over the ruined half of her face, "We have much in common."
"Shouldn't you be off finding your father or something?" Christine asked quickly.
Hel raised an eyebrow, "Perhaps. That is not to say I will leave when I DO find him, though…"
Without another word, Hel disappeared. Christine crossed her arms, tapping a foot, "I don't like her."
"I do not think she was all too fond of you, either," Erik replied, then slid an arm around Christine's shoulders. "Shall we head home, love?"
"Yes. Please." She turned around and looked up at him, "And since I'm off tomorrow, maybe you can reap those benefits tonight," she winked.
Erik cleared his throat, "Let us go then…" He led Christine towards the nearest door.
"Wait! Your mask!" She pointed to the material that Hel had left on the floor. He quickly grabbed it and returned to Christine, eagerly rushing her out of the theatre.
Outside the Populaire
Several flashes of light nearly blinded Christine and Erik as they stepped out of the theatre. He felt a hand tug at his mask, his eyes momentarily unable to focus. Erik went on the attack, his fists hitting flesh without thinking. On instinct, he pulled a stake out of his duster, then realized it would be useless against these helpless humans.
Holding it as a weapon, however, it looked sharp enough to drive them back.
With his free hand, he grabbed Christine and tossed her over his shoulder. He heard her cry out in surprise and discomfort, but paid no heed as he rushed towards the car. He jammed the stake back in his duster and fumbled for the keys, hitting the remote to unlock the doors. He quickly put Christine in the passenger seat and slid into the driver's seat before starting the car and racing out of the parking lot.
Christine stared out the window as they left the mob behind, "My god! That… that was CRAZY!" she glanced over at Erik, and noted his mask had been partially ripped from his face, revealing a skeletal cheek. She only hoped that no one had seen it - or worse, snapped a picture.
She took a deep breath and slid her hand over the one he had clutching the gear shift. "You ok?"
His jaw was clenched, golden eyes narrowed, "Am I supposed to be?" he hissed. "Someone tried to blind me with a flash and rip the mask from my face!"
"I'm sorry…"
His expression softened slightly, "It is not your fault, Christine."
"It's just…" she stopped and shook her head. "This is getting too much, and there's nothing I can do to help you…"
Erik finally pulled into their garage, shutting the automatic door as he turned the car off.
He turned to Christine and tilted her chin up, brushing his lips over hers, "You do not need to help me in this. It is something I must deal with on my own." He slid the torn material off his face and tossed it in the back seat, "No matter what mask I wear, it will never hide me,"
"Erik…" Christine bit her lip, an idea coming to her, "What if you got someone to deal with these people for you?"
"I can deal with them myself."
Christine let out a laugh, "Yeah, you're a real people person." She sighed, "I mean you should find someone who can get those guys off your back. To… represent you, so to speak. Like an agent or something."
Erik thought about this a moment, then smirked. "Hmmm, yes… and then he would be far too busy to cause havoc!"
Christine studied him a moment, "Um… are we talking about the same thing?"
"We are," he chuckled coldly. "That is a fine idea!" He quickly stepped out of the car and rushed around to Christine's side, lifting her out of the passenger seat before she could get out on her own.
"What a smart woman I have chosen for a wife." He chuckled again, and Christine couldn't help but feel a little trepidations.
"Okay, the chuckling is creepy. Please stop. Now."
"Ah, forgive me. I simply had a humourous image come to mind." He shifted the girl in his arms, getting a better grip, "Now what about those benefits you were promising me earlier?"
She raised an eyebrow, "As long as you're not the only one who gets the benefits here."
"Have you ever been disappointed?"
She blushed in response, making it quite clear she had not been disappointed.
With a satisfied smirk, Erik carried her upstairs.
END OF EPISODE 10