Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Phantom of the Opera. (looks around) Erik, get back in the closet before someone finds you! (looks back at readers) Nope, don't own Erik at all…
AN: More of the Fop and the Twit (a.k.a.: Christine) in this chapter. I know that people hate me for putting them in the storyline, but that's the way my muse wants it, so there you go. Please review and tell me how you like/dislike it. Thanks!
Chapter 17: Good Intentions:
Rolling over underneath the red velvet sheets, I sighed and opened my eyes. Upon seeing the bouquet of red and white roses on the table next to me, I couldn't help but smile. In the week that had passed since our confession of love, Erik now knew that roses were my favorite flower, and he often went out of his way to procure them for me. The moment they began to wilt, the roses would disappear overnight and I would awake to new, fresh blossoms, the scent of the flowers filling the air.
Because of Erik's desire to surprise me this way, I never lowered the curtain on the bed anymore. I liked to wake up and find something beautiful or thoughtful waiting for me when I woke. One morning, I had opened my eyes to see a new shawl draped over a chair, the lovely white silk trimmed with gold embroidery and little gold tassels. I loved it so much that I wore it everywhere except the kitchen, for fear of getting it dirty. Erik, I knew, enjoyed seeing me wear it, as he always smiled whenever he saw it wrapped around my shoulders or arms.
Yawning a bit, I sat up and stretched, my eyes drifting back towards the flowers. To my surprise, there was a small wooden box laying next to it, a white card perched on top of it. Curious, I reached out and picked up the card. It had my name written on it, and since it was on the box, I deduced that the box was for me. Picking up the container and putting it on my lap, I slowly opened it and gasped.
Inside the box lay a glittering red glass bottle, a painted gold rose cut into the front and back of it. The bottle was circular, but flat, and the stopper was of a clear glass rosebud edged in gold. As I removed the little bottle, I saw something liquid was inside, and couldn't help the excitement that swelled within my heart. I quickly removed the stopper and took a small sniff.
'Roses!' I thought with joy. 'Rose perfume! Oh, this had to be so expensive!'
I would wear it, of course, as Erik no doubt expected me to. Besides, why should I save it for special use when I knew that wearing it would make Erik happy? So, grinning broadly, I slowly tipped the bottle over a little, and a small drop of the perfume fell onto my wrist. Quickly replacing the stopper, I proceeded to rub the scent into my skin with the other wrist, then pressed my wrists to my neck, transferring some of the scent to the other part of my body.
Biting back a giggle, I put the perfume back on the bedside table by the vase and threw the covers off of me. In moments, I was dressed and heading for the kitchen, eager for some breakfast. It was still early, and Erik wouldn't likely be awake yet, so I had the cavern to myself. As I passed by the organ, I couldn't hold back the smile that tugged at my lips.
'He's so messy.' I chuckled and went over to the desk to straighten out his papers.
Earlier in my stay, I never touched anything on the organ, but since Erik always got frustrated with his own messes, I had developed the habit of tidying up his work each morning and organizing his music. He never seemed angry after I did, but was rather grateful for the help, so I continued to do it every day. When he saw the neat pile of papers, he always thanked me with a smile of gratitude, saying that it saved him from losing his work and his mind.
My work done in the music room, I went into the kitchen to prepare myself some tea and toast. Normally I would have eggs, bacon, or sausage, but today I felt like something sweet, so I fetched a few jars of preserves, choosing three of my favorite flavors: strawberry, cherry, and orange. Oh, how I loved a good cup of tea and toast for breakfast! And best of all, both the tea and the toast were done at relatively the same time, so no time was spent rushing about making sure things were set.
Ten minutes later, I was seated at the table, lifting a slice of toast with cherry preserves from the plate when something pressed against my neck and inhaled. I squeaked in surprise, but didn't drop my toast as the intruder laughed into my hair. Knowing who it was, I huffed in annoyance, but didn't turn around. Instead, I put the toast to my lips and took a healthy bite out of it.
"Ah, you are upset with my interrupting your meal," Erik whispered into my ear. "You smell lovely."
I tried to chew my food and ignore him, but he wouldn't have it. Instead, I felt his nose glide up and down my neck, sniffing occasionally as his hands found their way to my shoulders. I nearly choked as Erik proceeded to nuzzle the place behind my right ear, the warmth of his skin mixing with that of my own. I shivered, my eyes closing as I swallowed my mouthful of toast.
"Do you like my gift, sweet Aria?" His voice was so soft and seductive, it sent another shiver down my spine. "The smell of roses that mingles so sweetly with your own delicious scent?"
"Yes." My answer was so quiet, I didn't think he had heard me.
"Good," Erik replied as his lips pressed against the tender skin of my neck, giving me a kiss like that of a butterfly's wing.
As I tried to compose myself, Erik moved to sit beside me, a smug grin on his lips as he reached over and took a piece of toast from my plate, his fingers reaching for the jar of strawberry preserves. I went back to eating my own meal as Erik proceeded to smother the bread with the red-pink fruit spread, his hands slowly and meticulously covering the entire slice with it. Goodness, how I loved those hands!
'Not that he's done anything inappropriate to me with those hands, of course,' I thought with a touch of disappointment.
No, Erik would never do such a thing, but we both felt it acceptable to touch one another without going too far. At first, he had wanted to wear gloves, believing that, as a man so much larger than I was, he might harm me without meaning to. But after feeling a soft kiss to his unmarked cheek and my own hands on his face, Erik wanted to be able to touch mine without a barrier between us. He had relented, and proceeded to put his bare hands on my waiting face.
That first time, three nights ago, I discovered the joy of Erik's skin on mine. His hands, roughened by working so hard on his art and at his organ, were slightly callused, but not too noticeably. I had closed my eyes as his fingertips brushed my forehead, eyebrows, temples, cheeks, and lips, almost as though he were memorizing every inch of my features. I swore I could sense his eyes on me as his thumbs stroked every inch of my face. His touch was so soft and gentle that I sighed and leaned further into his caresses, my own hands moving up to graze his. The two of us gasped in pleasure and bliss before stopping, fearing that we might go further than we wanted.
After that night, we held hands whenever we sat together and talked, the two of us laying together on the blankets and pillows before the fireplace in the library. Sometimes we would sit at the dinner table and hover over coffee and vanilla cookies, chatting over the development of the production of Carmen or whatever came to mind. Occasionally, one of us would make a joke, and after the laughter had calmed down, we would find ourselves in a soft, but loving kiss that would leave us breathless. If this was what love is supposed to be, then the two of us were lost in it.
As I swallowed the last bit of my first toast slice, I silently reminded myself that, for now, nothing more than touches and kisses could happen between us, no matter how much I wished otherwise. It wouldn't be proper, and I firmly believed in marriage before physical intimacy, though I didn't know what Erik thought about the whole thing. Still, he wanted to make me happy, so there was the chance that he would wait until after we were married to go any further.
'But what if he doesn't want to marry you?' a voice asked me in the back of my head.
Looking over at the wonderful man sitting next to me, I saw the tender look in his eyes as he studied me, and I knew that he wanted more than just gentle touches and passionate kisses. That is what my heart told me, and I had every reason to believe it.
'I am going to marry this woman,' Erik thought to himself as Aria looked at him and smiled. 'I will marry this woman if it's the last thing I do.'
Since the night that Aria had put that aloe lotion on his face, he'd had the insatiable urge to touch and kiss her whenever he could. Like today, when he had come up behind her and pressed his nose to her neck, Erik had felt his heart soar at the light, but seductive scent of roses on Aria's neck. He had purchased the perfume the same day she had revealed her love for the flower, but had waited until the specially made glass bottle had been completed before presenting it to her. The fact that she wore the scent now told of her love of the gift, and the grateful look that sparkled in her deep brown eyes thrilled him to no end.
'I will marry you, Aria Craven,' he silently thought to her as she proceeded to eat another slice of toast. 'Despite whatever rescue attempt your foolish father and the de Chagnys may try and carry out, I will marry you.'
Smiling at her, Erik finished his slice of toast and left for his room. He had errands to run, and time waited for no one…not even a Ghost.
Exiting the carriage, Raoul quickly scanned the area before reaching his hand towards his wife. Since this whole mess with the Ghost began anew, he had been extremely fearful for Christine's wellbeing. Even though they were firmly wed, Raoul couldn't help but think that if he turned his back for one minute, his wife would be snatched away. The shadows all seemed to have eyes and grasping claws, and the more time that passed, the more worried he became.
"Raoul," whispered a soft, musical voice. The Count turned to look into the wide brown eyes of his wife. "Raoul, he cannot take me away from you when we are in such a public place. He cannot enter the hotel we stay in, for fear of getting caught or being seen."
"But he does still have power over the Opera House," Raoul replied, his voice tense. "He could come out of a wall and then-"
A slender, gloved hand pressed against his cheek as Christine pressed a kiss to his lips. "He could do all of that, and yet, I know that you would come down and save me," she said with a sweet smile. "I know that you would do everything in your power to get me back, and if I know such a thing, then the Phantom must as well."
A sigh escaped Raoul's mouth as he reluctantly surrendered to Christine's comforting words and caress. "You are right," he said, his hand reaching up to take hers and press it to his heart. "I would do everything possible to save you from him."
Christine smiled as she began leading him up the steps and into the Opera House. "Of course you would." Her voice was soft as they proceeded to go up the steps towards the entrance of the Populaire. "But for now, we must concentrate on the task at hand, and that is rescuing Aria Craven."
Raoul nodded and followed behind, his eyes darting to a fro, looking at every shadowy doorway and dark hallway they passed, checking to be sure that nothing sinister lurked there. He didn't relax until they were safely in the office of Monsieur Craven, the door shut firmly behind them. Even if the Phantom had a way into the office, Raoul felt certain that he could manage a way to help Christine escape the room to safety, if need be.
As a glass of brandy was pressed into his hands, Raoul allowed himself to relax just the tiniest bit. Beside him, Christine happily sipped a cup of tea as she settled down into the couch she shared with her husband. Across from them was Monsieur Craven, a glass of brandy in his hand as he sat in a red velvet chair. The three of them quietly enjoyed their refreshments for several moments until Monsieur Craven broke the silence.
"I'm afraid that I have not thought of any way to save my daughter," Monsieur Craven announced. "We all know that the police will not involve themselves, and without armed men, I dare not let one single person down there. Who knows what that monster has waiting for uninvited intruders?"
Raoul shivered, remember his own horrifying experience. During bad thunderstorms, he often dreamed of water and iron cages holding him down as he tried to swim for the surface, the darkness surrounding him as he tried to find out which way was up. Christine knew of his nightmares, just as he knew about hers. Occasionally, she would wake up gasping, almost as though she had been running away from something terrible. Even now, the presence of the Ghost couldn't leave them be.
"There will be traps, no doubt," Raoul said, pushing aside his fears so that he could help the poor man sitting before him. "Only two people know where those traps are, and one of them is the Ghost. The other would be Madame Giry."
Christine shook her head. "I do not think that Madame would know where all of the Phantom's traps are laid, Raoul," she said. "Remember, you told me that she would only lead you so far into the tunnels, and that you had to go the rest of the way alone."
"True enough, but she knew about that twirling mirror room I dropped into on the night of the Masquerade," Raoul reminded her. "If she already knew about that one, then how many others does she know exist and where they are?"
"Or how many she is willing to tell us about," Monsieur Craven muttered, his voice deep as he lost himself in thought. "Perhaps she would be willing to direct someone through the passages that hold the least amount of traps?"
Raoul could feel one of his eyebrows quirk. "That is an interesting idea," he murmured. "Perhaps she would be willing to draw me a map of some sort, instead of having to actually lead me there?"
"Draw you a map?" Christine gasped. "Oh, Raoul, you're not seriously thinking of going down there alone, are you?"
"I must, my love, if I am to help save this girl," he gently replied. "I have been training a great deal, and am more skilled at defending myself with both my hands and a weapon." He took Christine's hand in his. "I have long feared another encounter with him, and so I have prepared for the worst. If I go down there, alone and fully armed, I believe that I can defeat the Phantom and bring Aria back safely to her father."
Christine shook her head. "Then let me go with you," she pleaded. "If you do end up fighting him, I can sneak Aria away while you distract him! It would not be hard to do so, since she must be eager to leave that awful place by now!"
Raoul and Monsieur Craven exchanged looks that obviously said they did not like the idea. However, if Raoul could prove as a violent and effective distraction, then it was possible that Christine could, in fact, get Aria out of the caves while Raoul fought the Ghost. The plan had its potential, and could actually work.
"Very well," Raoul said reluctantly. "But we will need time to prepare for this. It will not be long, since we do not know how much torment Mademoiselle Craven has been exposed to during this time. We will prepare ourselves and let you know as soon as we are ready."
After an hour of polite conversation, the de Chagnys left, taking with them the hope that they would be able to carry out the plan they had just conceived.
Watching the young couple leave, Roland felt his shoulders slump. It had been wrong of him to involve them, he knew that now. The topic of the Opera Ghost was something that should have been left in the past for them, and then he had to go and throw the whole matter right into their faces.
'But they are the only ones who can help me,' Roland reminded himself as he went to pour himself another drink. 'They are the only ones who actually faced the Ghost and lived to tell the tale, except for Madame Giry.'
The ballet mistress had been of no help, despite all of the money that Roland had offered her in exchange for that aid. She had even refused the job positions that he had offered both her and her daughter in either his home or in the Populaire! The woman simply refused to get involved, though he had no idea why.
'Perhaps the Ghost really did threaten to do something horrible to little Meg Giry,' Roland thought as he sipped his brandy.
If that was the case, he could understand why the formidable dance instructor had acted the way she did to his offers. To any true parent, all of the money in the world could not replace a dead or missing child, as well he knew. Still, he desperately wished that she would help him. He would much rather have Madame Giry's help than the Count and Countess'!
'But I will do whatever it takes to get my daughter back,' he thought as he clutched his glass. 'I will have my daughter home, and no man in a mask is going to stop that from happening! Once she's home safely, I'll send in a mass of armed men to arrest or destroy the monster that had taken her!'
Aria would not forgive him for having a man killed, even if he had been her captor, but Roland didn't care. It would be worth it, if only for the peace of mind of having his daughter home again.
AN: Review, please! Thanks!