Sweet Seduction

Chapter Twenty-One: Let The Opera Begin

Christine sighed as she knotted her apron of her costume for Act Three. The performance suddenly seemed to take forever and she wished it could just end and she could go home. Well, she'd have to get through the opening night party first, which might be a bit difficult. She hadn't been feeling well at all since last night. Of course, she and Erik had made up long since and their silly fight was completley forgotten about now, and everything was as it should be, but she still didn't feel as perfectly fine like she'd told everyone. She hadn't been able to eat anything this morning. Erik knew that it was just nerves and she should at least have some tea, but she couldn't even keep that down. She had gotten dizzy during the day too, but she wanted to perform so badly tonight and if she told Erik she felt ill, she knew he wouldn't let her. So, she kept silent, but now she was regretting that choice. It was now the interval of the program and Christine would have an extra five minutes or so to prepare for the upcoming act during the ballet. She'd need it, since she had been so flustered and nervous all evening. She didn't know what was wrong with her. Her stomach ached wickedly and she had vomited twice already. Although, she had a feeling it was her own guilt making her sick.

She hadn't told anyone about Raoul threatening her at the Masquerade, and she knew she needed to. This was literally making her sick, but every time she thought about telling someone, she almost vomited all over again. Raoul really seemed serious, but how would he know if she told someone? She wanted to tell Meg, but then she thought better of it. Meg wasn't the best for keeping secrets, and even though she had kept Christine's secret about her angel when Christine had told her years ago, Christine knew Meg wouldn't possibly keep something like this a secret. Meg would certainly tell her mother and Jacques and then they could all be in danger if Raoul really tried to harm anyone. Christine knew she should tell Erik, but each time she tried, he either brought something else up or she lost her courage to tell him. Tonight, she just knew she had to confess. Right now. She should not have kept this a secret in the first place. She needed to find Erik and tell him, and fortunately at that moment, she saw him walking down the back hallway towards the men's dressing rooms. She ran after him and called him.

He turned around and smiled, hugging her

"Christine, you certainly are a very gorgeous chambermaid" and kissed her gently "You're doing wonderfully so far"

"Thank you, but Erik, I have to tell you something-"

"Darling, now just make sure you tell me if I'm playing the coda in your aria a little too fast, I'll slow it down. Oh, and if you see Veronique, could you give her a message for me?"

"Well, I suppose, but Erik please-"

"Just remind her about that harmony in her duet with Giles. She seemed a little uncertain yesterday and I'm afraid I was so...distracted, I forgot to mention it to her"

"All right, Erik, I'll tell her, but Erik please, you need to hear this-"

"Christine, I'm sure it can wait. We have plenty of time and I haven't seen you almost all day" he said, trailing a line of soft kisses down her neck. She struggled in his grasp, breaking away from him

"Erik, please, you have to listen to me. There's something you don't know!" she exclaimed

He looked at her worriedly

"All right, Christine, calm down. Here, sit down and you can tell me" he said, pulling up a spare chair next to hers

She sighed, beginning

"Well, Erik, you remember three months ago at the masquerade, when you and Georges were preparing that surprise for Marie?"

"Yes. What about it?" he asked curiously

She sighed "When you were busy putting the finishing touches on that, I was dancing with-"

"Erik!" Georges called out, motioning for him to come over. "We need you in the dressing room" he called

Erik moaned, kissing Christine again

"I'm sorry love. Duty calls"

"Erik, no, I need to tell you this-"

"Darling, calm down, you can finish telling me tonight, O.k.? I'll listen to every word. I promise"

"But Erik-"

"Honey, I have to go. I love you"

She sighed bitterly. Now she'd never get to tell him! He'd be so preoccupied after the party tonight and the opera they'd both be ready to collapse when they got home. Christine felt like she was ready to collapse now. Oh well. The lights began to dim and she knew the ballet was beginning. She had better finish putting her makeup on before it was her cue...

Erik stood before almost five thousand people in the orchestra pit. The Act Three ballet was finally over and the opera was going to begin again. He turned his music page quickly and nodded to his musicians to begin. As much as Erik loved singing and performing, there was a special feeling of conducting nothing else could compare to. Monsieur Reyer had retired and refused to come back to conduct for the Opera House again. All those years of the Opera Ghost rumors and disasters had worn the poor old man out. Erik felt a twinge of guilt knowing he was the reason Monsieur Reyer retired, but it had all worked out for the best. Erik was the conductor now and nothing on earth made him feel more alive. Actually being responsible for all the music, directing the different tempos and feelings, knowing every cue and line for where the music should begin and end was thrilling. He was actually creating and directing the music. It was almost as fulfilling as composing and he loved the pressure and feeling of being needed. Plus, every performance, every night he was able to look on stage and see his wife, acting and singing to music he was directing and occasionally winking or smiling at him (And he managed to wink back if he was able).

Sometimes he wished he could be up on stage performing with Christine, but his passion for performing in front of crowds died long ago on the night of Don Juan and he didn't desire to relive that expierence. Well, maybe he would, only if Christine was performing Aminta again...

Speaking of which, the two comical scenes had passed and it was now time for Christine's aria. She revealed her hiding place behind the chair to the audience and stepped forward, ready to begin singing. Erik thought she looked a little pale, but maybe it was just the lighting or her heavy makeup. She waited for her introduction and then bega singing. Erik thought there was no sound more beautiful then that of her angelic voice gliding over the sweet, high notes. It was hard to keep his mind on conducting when his gorgeous angel was before him, singing beautifully. He knew she must be nervous, but she was doing fine. The picture of poise and elegance and-wait, did she just miss the coda? Yes, she did, but she's caught herself up now, nothing to worry about. Erik couldn't help noticing that Christine was starting to sway dangerously. She had completely lost time with the music. In fact, she wasn't even singing any more! Her eyes were closing. Erik motioned the musicians to stop and all Paris looked on as the young singer suddenly fainted, crumpling to the ground and her husband leaped up onto the stage to catch her before she hit the ground.

Christine felt so horrible, even though she shouldn't. This was her aria! Erik had practiced this with her a thousand times over! Why was she so lost? She couldn't remember what she sang last. She had no idea where she was and suddenly the room was beginning to spin around her. Her head hurt tremendously. The room was spinning faster and faster and suddenly it went dark. She saw a sweeping vision of black rushing up to her and she felt unattached to her body as it crumpled to the floor in a tangled mess of skirts and petticoats, landing in someone else's soft, strong arms.
Erik almost felt his heart stop. What had happened to Christine? What was wrong? Why had she fainted? He could care less five thousand audience members and most of the Opera's staff were watching and gasping as he cradled his wife gently in his arms. Two of the stagehands hastily drew the curtains as George made a hurried apology and asked if there happened to be any doctors in attendance to please come backstage, then hurried backstage himself with Mme. Giry and Meg on his heels.

"Christine, please honey, come on, wake up!" Erik said frantically, gently shaking Christine by the shoulders

Georges and Mme. Giry knelt down beside him

"Erik, stop it!" Mme. Giry scolded as he tried to shake Christine harder "You're not going to help her if you shake her head off her shoulders"

"Marie, please" Georges said softly "I believe they're both shaken up enough"

Erik glared at him "Damn it, Georges, this is not the time for bad puns! Is there a doctor here? Oh god, what could be wrong with her? Christine, please,wake up!" he pleaded

"Shh, Erik, try to stay calm. Meg's coming right back with a doctor" Mme. Giry assured him

Erik gently ran his fingers down Christine's cheek. Georges offered him his handkerchief and Erik gently wiped Christine's heavy, white stage makeup off, revealing her own normally rosy cheeks and skin to be nearly as white as the makeup. Her lips were dry and colorless and he tore her wig off, letting her natural brown, velvety curls spill over his arms. His hands gently brushed down her back, where he felt her corset laced tightly beneath the costume. Well, that definitly couldn't be helping anything. He gently propped Christine up and ripped the back of her gown open, holding back her hair as Marie swiftly untied her constrictive corset laces and threw the contraption aside. Erik laid Christine back down in his arms gently.

He felt a small tear rolling down his cheek hidden behind his mask. He was starting to panic. All sorts of medical information and treatments ran frantically through his mind, but he wasn't thinking calmly enough to apply or even remember them. He did remember the last time Christine had fainted on him, after Don Juan, but that was because of all the pressure and danger. She hadn't been sick. God, what if she was dead? What if she was dying right now, in his arms and he was just sitting here like some pathetic imbecile, idly waiting for god-knows-what to happen? He had to do something! He couldn't lose Christine, not after everything they had gone through to be together, everything they had shared together.

By now, a very large crowd had gathered around Erik and Christine, but Erik was oblivious to anyone else but the woman he loved, lying limp in his arms like a rag doll. In one swift motion, he stood up, supporting Christine gently under her head and lower back as he lifted her up in his strong arms, heading quickly towards the hidden tunnel he knew lay backstage. Marie grabbed his arm firmly

"Erik, are you mad?" she hissed "You can't go back there! Not with all these people, they'll see you!"

"Blast it, Marie, do you think I care about what all these other people see? The only thing I care about right now is getting Christine some help, which would be easier if you would let go of my arm" he nearly shouted back

And then, to add yet another shock to the already unbelievable day, Marie slapped Erik, sharp and quick against his unmasked cheek. It stung horridly, but his hands were rather busy at the moment supporting Christine to rub his stinging cheek

"Erik get control of yourself now. You are not helping anything by acting out of panic, you fool! Now, look, here comes the doctor now. Everything will be fine" she whispered

"Maman!" Meg called out breathlessly "I found a doctor!" Meg said, gesturing to the middle aged, plump man in a formal evening suit behind her

The doctor rushed over to Erik, looking at Christine lying weakly in his arms. He shook his head

"Well, monsieur, it was rather foolish to try and move her in her current state, you could have seriously injured her. But what's done is done, and as long as you've gotten her up, is there a room with a bit more privacy? I can examine her thoroughly there"

"Follow me, monsieur" Erik said, forcing himself to ignore the secret tunnel he knew that was to his right, instead taking the public way to the Prima Donna dressing room with Marie following behind him. Georges, Jacques and Meg reluctantly remained behind to keep control of the ever-growing crowd. Erik looked fearfully down at the weak angel lying helplessly in his arms, and he prayed to whatever ruthless gods or spirits that had shown him little mercy in his life to please spare him and his wife some compassion, and please, not to let him be too late.