A little bit long, I do hope you won't mind.
Please continue to review, it fuels my creativity. Honest!
Seconds into minutes, minutes into hours. Hours into days, days into weeks. Time is a relentless continuum that drones ever onwards. It is the same even in a very busy opera house. The weeks were gone in the blink of an eye, and before long it was only days until opening night. The set pieces were nearly complete, the singers and dancers finely tuned, and all that was left was to wait.
Not so much had changed in those weeks, yet everything had. The same rhythm which would always be the hallmark of theatre continued each day, and yet within it's walls one soul had changed completely. The sorrow and solitude that had threatened to consume Erik seemed to gradually ebb away. He was more jovial, even beginning to laugh with Michal and talk animatedly about a variety of subjects. His circle expanded to a few more of the young men Michal trusted, and Erik would even have called them friend.
Michal assumed that Erik had simply adjusted to his new life, and that the schedule he kept now aided in keeping his mind off of his troubles. Little did he know that, every evening after dinner, when Erik rushed off to bed, he met with an angel. The savior of his mind and spirit.
She had made him swear an oath, that sweet disembodied voice who held limitless power over the state of his emotion. Never to tell. Because, she cautioned, not everyone would understand that God did indeed intervene into the lives of his children in such a way. He would be scoffed at and mocked. She knew this, of course, because her thinking was high above his own.
As a docile canary will accept seed out of the palm of his master, so Erik accepted her words without question. So long as she did not abandon him, he would heed her every command.
She visited with him every night. They spoke of everything, and nothing. She had revealed, much to his surprise, that angels are very much like humans. Also created in the image of God, they can laugh, and even cry. They reflect every emotion humans feel, only their existence is eternal from the outset. Upon this foundation she had created her web of deceit, until they could banter and carry on much in the way any man and woman would, only without the proprieties and social niceties.
Christine had also discovered, much to her very human delight, that he could sing. His voice was raw and untrained, and one had to strain hard to see beneath the surface of the coal to glimpse the diamond within. She had recognized his talent, however, and with subtle coercion, convinced him to allow her to train him.
"You could sing like an angel itself, with proper training!" The feminine melody encompassed him, the tone pulling upon his resistance in a subtle disarming.
"No, angel" Erik had gently responded, fearing to anger her and cause her departure by his refusal. Still, he pressed on. "I have not sang since... Emma. I have sworn that I would not!"
A sigh filled the room, soft and sorrow filled. It pricked Erik's heart to imagine that he had caused the angel disappointment.
"The old wounds must heal, Erik. You cannot allow them to fester forever. Sing, Emma will hear you. It would please her. She wishes for you to live again, not to waste away!"
"You speak with Emma?" Erik asked, for the moment, incredulous.
Without hesitation, Christine had replied. "Of course."
Her student, her obsession had become very still and seemed to ponder for a very long moment. Christine was patient with him, allowing him the time he needed to submit to her wishes.
"Of course, angel. Who am I to question a messenger of God? I will sing, I will learn."
Christine was too far lost in the deception to feel any regret for manipulating him so. To speak of the dead in such a scandalous light caused no ill-feelings within her, she was beyond such doubt. He needed her, and she would mold him into the man that he could be. His voice, his mind, his spirit. All of it would, some day, belong to her.
"Erik, please! You always rush off. It is only days before the new production and you will be given nearly a week of rest! Come, join us. Only for a drink."
Michal and his friends were convincing, but Erik cast a nervous glance over his shoulder, in the direction of his meager room. 9:00 p.m., sharp, the angel always said. He was not to be late. He had always obeyed, fearing that the soothing voice would abandon him in his disobedience. The prior night they had laughed, as Erik recounted stories of his childhood. The angel had been in such high spirits, perhaps she would forgive his tardiness. It was, after all, only nearly 8. Surely he could be back on time. Mind made up, Erik allowed his companions to steer him away from the shelter of his angel and into the world of the living for the first time in weeks.
When each man had a drink in hand, and was settled around the table in the small pub, all of the men set in to teasing Jean, newly engaged.
"You simply could not wait to bed the lady," Michal teased with a glint in his eye. "Such an expensive ring when you could simply buy a woman for much less!"
Jean landed a blow to Michal's shoulder, and the younger man winced. Just when Erik thought the duo would seriously have words, both broke into fits of laughter.
"Ah, who would not want to wed such a beauty?" the eldest in their company chimed. "Beautiful," he murmured into his drink.
Erik laughed with them, and then pushed his drink aside. Nearly an hour had been wasted upon such boorish talk, and he would certainly be late as it were.
"Time for me to retire, gentlemen." He stated, as he stood and pushed his chair back. The men yelled and chanted at him, all nearing the point of intoxication, as Erik simply shook his head and laughed, making his way out of the establishment. It was only a few blocks walk to the opera house, and he opted to stroll there. It was a clear, moonlit night and he had not enjoyed the outside in some time.
As he transversed the streets, he paid little mind to the going ons about him. Carriages rolled by, lovers strolled arm in arm down the lane, and children darted about their mothers legs in fits of giggles. Paris was alive, and the people within it were it's hearts blood. Erik enjoyed being surrounded by it, even if he felt he could not assimilate actively into that beat.
In the midst of all the quiet chaos, a familiar voice broke his reverie. Erik looked up from the brim of his hat, which he had been worrying betwixt his fingers. A carriage had, apparently, lost a wheel and a worried voice was pressing the driver.
"How long shall it take to finish, Monsieur?"
"Half an hour, Miss." the burly man had replied. The woman seemed disheveled, and simply nodded in response before pursing her lips and strolling back toward the cabin. She paced aside it, muttering to herself.
"I will be late. Ah, my brilliant luck."
"Annabell?" Erik called out, before he realized it and could not take the spoken word back. For a moment he considered retreating into shadows, but when she cast her gaze toward him his heart leapt within his chest. It was her!
"Yes? Who's there?" A nervous hand lifted to the door of her carriage, as if she would retreat into it for protection. Erik had little choice but to step into the light and assuage her fears.
"Erik," he answered simply, as he moved forward toward her. The wide blue eyes he remembered gazed upon him with guarded expression, and to make his point he dipped into a low bow, flicking the edge of his coat in an extravagant gesture. Just as when they were children. A squeal left the woman before him, and before he knew it she had thrown herself into his arms.
"Cousin!" She cried against his cheek, as she pressed a chaste kiss there. He could do little else except hug her back, and laugh with her.
"Yes, but you know we really are not, Annabell. Only games for children." Erik replied, smiling down into her eyes.
"Yes, of course," she breathed, as she stepped away and cleared her throat. "Perhaps that was an inappropriate greeting. You are, after all, a man now."
Erik laughed, even as her gaze moved over his form. He knew he was not dressed in a splendid manner at all. Rather, he looked very plain in contrast to her fine gown and jewels.
"Yes, a man. What brings you to Paris, Annabell?"
"A job, actually. I am singing at last," she replied, her entire frail form exuding excitement. "I am to perform in the new production of Lakme at the Paris Opera!"
Erik could not stifle his surprise and laughter. It seemed he had not stopped laughing since he had met her once more.
"It is you then, the visiting diva! I should have known, what, with all of the odd requests being made."
Annabell swatted at his arm playfully, their familiar banter returning easily.
"You bafoon, tell me of what you speak. How did you know to expect me?"
"I work there, my dear lady. At the opera."
With a delighted expression of shock, Annabell lifted a dainty hand to her mouth. "Say it is not so! You are singing as well? On stage, no less! How wonderful, Erik!"
Erik lifted a hand to silence her, shaking his head a bit more solemnly.
"No, unfortunately, this is not the case. I am merely a stage-hand, of sorts."
Concern filled the petite ladies gaze, and her brow furrowed in unasked questions. How could he have gone from such an affluent position to this in less than a decade?
Erik could sense all that needed to be said between them, and diverted the conversation.
"We have much to catch up on, little cousin," he teased. "Perhaps you would take dinner with me one evening? If the diva can find time, that is."
Hurt flashed momentarily within her bewitching gaze, and she lowered her eyes. Seeming to mull on his statement for a moment, she stepped forward and raised her gloved hand to his cheek. It rested there lightly, in an attempt to affirm her loyalties to him.
"Mere station cannot take away our memories, Erik, nor can it remain friendship. I am simply Bell, on the inside, even still. And you, my bold knight in shining armor, protecting me from the vicious attack of feral puppies."
Both smiled, and Erik captured her hand, brushing his lips across the knuckles.
"Yes," he smiled.
"The wheel is fixed, my lady. " The gruff voice of the cab driver interrupted their rendezvous, and Erik stepped away as though caught. He cleared his throat, and in a rather formal voice, mouthed.
"Dinner, then. I will call upon you tomorrow as to a time."
With that, he turned and made his way down the street. It took all of his strength not to look over his shoulder. Every part of his life that was pleasant had been lost and buried with Emma. Now, his childhood sweetheart and friend had emerged to carve at the ice that was his heart. So delighted to have seen her again, was he, that Erik entirely forgot that he was nearly an hour late for his lesson with his angel.