I just have to say that my beta, LoveMe1010 is amazing.
Here is a long one for you! Keep reviewing, please.
Madame's words were stinging. Christine recoiled at the bitter remark and turned away. Calling on the last vestige of her patience she hissed through clenched teeth.
"Leave me."
Even the stern Giry knew not to trifle with Christine at times, and this was certainly one of them. With one last huff she gathered her matronly skirts and ascended the stairs from the chapel. Christine was left staring into the lonely flicker of the single candle. Love? What a ridiculous notion! She could not be in love. Love required giving, compassion, understanding and vulnerability. Christine perhaps could manage the trio, but the last one was impossible for her. Too many wounds had been opened, too much damage done in her lifetime. She could never willingly place herself in another's hands to be crushed again.
"No one can love you!" Her father spat, even as the tiny girl wept for his love.
"Use you, perhaps. Lie to you, manipulate you, take what they need from you - you are an animal, after all .. but no one will ever love you!"
Christine shuddered at the words that came unbidden to mind and suddenly felt very exposed in the solitary chapel. She turned to meld into darkness again, agitation stirring within her. Madame Giry should certainly guard her tongue.
Erik found himself disgusted with his room, unable to step within as he reached the threshold. It seemed to echo so many things. The poor state of his life, the loss of his wife and child, the facade of his angel, and finally the rejection of his most precious childhood friend. Nothing could draw him inside so instead he turned to the streets. Leaving the opera house was instantly a relief and Erik breathed deep of the Parisian night air. His eyes scanned the streets about, in search of something to release his energy and emotions upon. When nothing else caught his attention, he made his way to the pub which he had visited only several nights before with Michel and his friends. The night Anna had came back into his life.
A seat at the end of the bar was easily obtained and Erik began to drink. As each glass emptied it seemed that the ache within his heart and the confusion in his mind lessened. Each droplet of the amber liquid numbed his pain and Erik would give the last of his coins to obtain that release.
When the barkeep would give him no more, Erik merely glowered at the man and paid his ticket. He arose to leave and after stumbling over several chairs and muttering slurred apologies to a few patrons, he managed to make it to the door. His overindulgence had not gone unnoticed, however, and a small group of men followed after him. If the man could afford to drink so heavily, he must have some coin on him. They waited until Erik, walking at an agonizingly slow pace, passed a darkened alley before they acted.
"Messieurs, I assure you that I have exhausted all of my facilities and there is simply no sign of him. It is as though he has simply disappeared."
Jean and Antoine both released a heavy sigh at the disappointing news. For over a year they had been searching for their nephew. He had parted ways with them to marry the common girl, and they had all but shunned him - assuming such an action would cause him to rethink the repercussions of his actions and change his mind. After six months, however, and no word they decided to try to repair the relationship themselves. It was not completely unheard of for a commoner to marry a man of station, however. Just completely undesirable.
Their search had been fruitless and now they were on the verge of giving up.
"What if something terrible has happened to him, Antoine?" Jean worried aloud, always the nervous one.
"Erik is a strong and clever man, Jean. I am quite sure he is well. Perhaps we are just not looking in the right places.." the elder of the two brothers replied, worrying his mustache between his fingers in a gesture that irritated the third man in the room to no end.
The portly investigator shifted uncomfortably in his chair, waiting for their further command. He had been rewarded handsomely for his efforts since this entire debacle began. To see it end now would also see a rather dramatic decrease in his profits.
"Ah, gentlemen.. perhaps Monsieur is right. Perhaps we are not looking in the right places. I could expand the search, try to trace his path.. look in the larger cities. Although, such an effort would undoubtedly be more expensive.." He muttered hastily.
Antoine glanced at the greedy man with something akin to disgust and acquiesced.
"Find him, Pierre, and you will be more than rewarded for your efforts."
"I am your angel of music... come to me angel of music.."
"Christine! Please. Do not do this to me. I do not want the disguise.. Do not toy with me.." the voice was broken, sad.
"But Erik," the sweet voice replied, replacing the song with words. "If you do not want the guise, the detached angel - what is it that you want?"
Erik groaned as he found consciousness. His head was splitting and he found he had difficulty opening his eyes at all. In his drunken stupor he had barely seen the men who had attacked him, beating him viciously only to find precious few coins. They had cursed and beaten him all the more for the inconvenience before leaving him in the same alley he had fallen prey in. Now he was alone, except for the scatter of vermin near his face and the realization revolted him enough that he vomited onto the ground.
"Oh, god.." he muttered helplessly, drawing his arms about his midsection. He felt as though every rib had been crushed by their ruthless kicks, and he was not even sure he could walk. He struggled to right himself and when he finally managed, he became disoriented. Still thoroughly intoxicated, he could not find his way to the street - despite the lamps that beckoned. Instead he walked further into the alleyway until it intersected with a different street. Following many alleys and streets in what he would later realize was a massive circle, he found himself at the Rue Scribe entrance to the Opera House.
"Angel.." he muttered as he collapsed just short of the entrance.
Erik felt happy. The pain and melancholy was gone, and for now the most important thing was to draw his lady out of her hiding place.
"Come out!" He said with laughter in his voice, darting about the massive columns in an attempt to find her hiding place. Soft laughter rang out in response to his plea, and he darted after it. It felt good to run again, to exert his muscles so fully and feel his youth. Often he felt so very aged that he forgot his body still retained so much of its vitality.
"Please, I want to see you.."
Again a giggle. Erik could not explain the feeling within his chest, but he knew that if he could capture his sprite all of the pain would remain a distant memory. To hold her, to taste her - would be fulfillment.
Erik felt himself laughing deeply, fully. It felt as though his lungs had not breathed until now. Who was this mysterious woman that he longed for? He wanted to call her name, but found he did not know it.
"My lady," he implored - pausing behind another massive column in this dreamscape.
"E-rik.." the voice called in a singsong quality that was so familiar and soothing to his spirit. The voice came from behind him and Erik swirled about in time to see her retreating form. A perfectly white gown trailed out behind her, and dark locks trailed behind. Even at a glimpse she was beautiful. He immediately gave chase.
This time he managed to catch her. She did not turn, only allowed him to encircle her with his arms. He buried his face within her luxuriant hair, losing himself in the sweet scent. His fingers splayed possessively across her stomach, and then her hips. He found himself enthralled, aroused, and completed with this creature in his arms. His lips sought her throat, to which he lavished moist kisses. She moaned, and turned in his arms. He lifted his head to look into her eyes...
"Erik! Erik, come. You must help me move you. You are too large.."
The words were jumbled and his name was all he really understood. His swollen lids managed to open and there, just as he would have viewed his lovers face, was his angel. His Christine.
He could only laugh. How ironic and beautiful that her face should complete his vision. She who had healed his soul with her song and words.
"Oh, yes. I am glad it is you.." he slurred. Christine dismissed his words as drunken foolishness.
"Yes, yes. I am sure you are." She replied, attempting to bring him to a sitting position.
He ignored her seriousness and lifted his dirty hand to touch her exposed cheek.
"You're lovely.. you know that, don't you angel? Surely someone has told you how lovely you are?" The way his eyes bore into hers as she spoke, his flattering words, the touch of his fingers upon her face - Christine felt undone. Affection coursed through her in the form of weakness, and she cursed. This caused him to laugh, and after several moments of the silly sound she found herself fighting a smile.
"Please, Erik. We must get you out of the streets and tend to your wounds." She attempted to reason with him.
Erik began to shuffle at her insistence and managed to stand, his arm draped heavily over her shoulders.
"I prayed for you, y'know.." he stated, his words heavy and hard to discern. "'course you know, you answered didn't you?" Another laugh, and then he sobered a bit. "I think perhaps God did send you after all, my angel. Look now, you're saving me again! How many times will you pick this pitiful wretch up?"
Christine was breathing heavily from the exertion of supporting nearly all of his body weight, but the words she could hear were uncharacteristic and strange from Erik. She simply allowed him his drunken babblings as she navigated through the tunnels with him, until they finally arrived in her sitting room. She all but dropped him unceremoniously onto a sofa and went to fetch the things she would need to mend him.
It was luck really, that she had found him at all. After pacing for an hour or two in her lair she had decided to go to the surface, to cool her thoughts and anger with the night air. Instead she had stumbled upon the token of her frustration, in a pitiful heap at the Rue Scribe. What could have driven him to drinking so heavily, and why would he be attacked? Christine felt a blinding anger threaten to consume her as she considered those responsible for such an atrocity. How she would love to watch them writhe in the pain of death..
A soft cough broke her reverie and Christine finished gathering the supplies. She returned to the sitting room to find Erik draped across the sofa, and sound asleep. With a heavy sigh she lowered the basin of cool water to the floor and knelt there. With a gentleness that would surprise all that knew of her legends, she began to play nursemaid to the broken man.
The figure turned within his arms, and Erik glanced up from his feast at her throat to look into her face.
"Christine," he murmured in surprise. She only smiled at him, the white of her mask so starkly contrasted to her living flesh. A feeling of dread began to settle within him, ruining the sensuous and romantic pleasure that had filled his dream.
"No. It cannot be. You lied to me, Christine. Deceived me so.. How can I trust you? How?"
Christine lifted a finger to press to his lips. Once he was silenced she followed it with her own kiss, tasting of him in an agonizingly slow manner. Finally she pulled away, and mouthed.
"See me, Erik. See me."
Erik did not know what that could mean, and his brow furrowed in obvious confusion.
Before his apparition could reply, however, a sharp pain at his hairline awoke him. He swung at the attack, capturing what felt like a frail arm in his wake. His fingers dug into the cool flesh, as he pulled it forcefully away from him. He attempted to sit up quickly, but only felt ill in doing so. He managed to pry his lids apart enough to see the person at his side.
"Christine?" he asked, his voice cracked and broken. She had tended to him throughout the night and into the morning. It was nearly noon now and he was only beginning to stir.
"Yes, Erik.." she replied quietly, attempting to extract her arm from his grasp. He released her quickly, lifting a hand to his brow.
"It hurt.." he explained simply, in the same way a child would.
"Yes," she replied again. "It is rather deep."
"What happened?" He queried with a groan. Oh how his head was pulsing. He would never drink again, he decided in that moment.
Christine pursed her lips in preparation to scold him for his foolish actions.
"Apparently you drank more than your share of liquor. What a foolish decision, Erik! Those men could have killed you." She chided as she lifted from her knees at his side.
Erik laughed, but it was a hollow and sad sound. "Who would care?"
Instead of pity Christine only felt frustration at his wallowing.
"You're precious little diva, perhaps?" Christine said with a little more vindictiveness than she intended. She had seen Anna shun him and knew the words would sting. Silently she cursed herself. Why did she find it necessary to lash out?
Erik flinched at the words, but did not speak immediately. Instead he simply stared at Christine, until she felt uncomfortable with the scrutiny and stood to leave. She lifted the basin filled with water from the floor but before she could turn away from him his hand darted out to encircle her tiny wrist. The bloodied water sloshed out of its container and soaked a leg of his trousers. Both glanced at the result, neither spoke. Instead they looked to each other again. Were they destined to always argue and fight?
"Would you?" Erik finally asked quietly.
"Would I what?" Christine countered, her train of thought having been diverted by the spill.
"Care."
"Care about what? Oh, I see. Your death." Christine paused for thought. While every inch of her screamed that his death would be her own end, she could not very well admit that to his face. In the same vein as her earlier thoughts, she realized that to do so would make her vulnerable, a risk she could not take.
"Of course. Have I not invested many hours into your voice and spirit? You're destined for greater things than death."
Erik released her quickly, and Christine realized just how cool the room was in the absence of his warm touch. She stifled a sigh and turned to the kitchen. Bringing him here had not been a good idea at all.
Erik, meanwhile, simply stared after her. Of all the people to have rescued him, she was probably the worst. Their relationship, whatever it was, was already wrought with tension over their last meeting and Erik felt he needed time to dwell upon it all. That time was denied him and he was thrust into her presence again. While he should be thankful for her intervention, he was frustrated. Frustrated at his own foolishness for drinking so much, at Anna for being so childish without explanation, for Emma for dying, at and Christine for being so fickle. In one moment she smiled at him, appearing to be a gentle woman. In those moments he found himself unable to deny the desire to kiss her again, to feel that jolt that coursed through him at the touch of her lips. In another she was scowling and lashing out at him, saying cruel things as though she were trying to drive him away.
Christine had returned, and Erik glanced up at her.
"You can...I mean to say... You're in no shape to go above just yet. Would you care for soup and a drink? Non-alcoholic, mind you.."
There, she was doing it again. The way her arms were crossed over her chest as though she could protect herself from his denial with them, and the way she leaned against the doorway. It caused her long, dark tresses to spill over her shoulder and curl against the top of her breasts - exposed at the top of her dress. With every breath the locks licked at creamy flesh and while Erik certainly did not realize he was staring, he could only watch them. How soft that flesh must be! How would Christine taste? Tearing his eyes away from the sight, they lifted upwards along the smooth column of her throat to her lips - unusually ruby lips that beckoned him.
"Temptress," he muttered under his breath.
"Excuse me?" Christine replied, and only then did he notice the impatient look upon her face.
"Of course," he replied, "I would appreciate such a gesture. Thank you, Christine, it is kind of you."
Christine left the room grumbling something about being kind, leaving Erik alone in his own aroused confusion.
Another page was crumpled and tossed upon the floor. Anna worried her bottom lip betwixt pearly teeth as she considered her words carefully, and then began to pen them again. Her fingers were smudged with ink and a pile of crumpled paper on the floor beside her indicated that she had been at this for well over an hour.
"Why is this so difficult!" She exclaimed, and then rested her forehead in her palm with a sigh.
"Because you've acted like a child, you idiot. What do you say in apology to that?"
She drummed her fingers upon the table, turned the lamp up and down, and tapped her toes. Finally, a thought came to her.
Dearest Erik,
I remember as a child you were always my rescuer. You would save me from whatever tree I had climbed too high in, or chase away the monsters in my closet. Do you remember when I was twelve and that Peter boy tried to kiss me? You blacked his eye! Oh, I know you got into so much trouble over that but you were always my prince. My hero. Now I find myself in this palace with all that I could have ever wanted, but as long as there is something amiss between us I cannot be content. I did not expect to find you here, to see you in the street that night. My delight in doing so cannot be expressed in words, however. Do you know that I thought of you each day, always? I even found myself comparing all of the suitors in my life to you. If they were not as brave, or daring, or compassionate as my Erik then they simply did not measure up.
I have not acted as though those things are true. I have acted foolishly and jealously. When I found the note (please forgive me for this Erik, I was so worried) in your room from another lady, I was furious. Oh to say these things embarrasses me so, but I had thought.. or hoped.. that perhaps you and I, well.. that we could become more acquainted as the adults that we are now. I did not realize that you were already involved with another woman, and that discovery left me feeling foolish and pushed aside. As I have had time to consider such a thing, however, I realize that I could not expect you to hold a place for me in your life. If you have recovered enough from the loss of your dear wife to find comfort in the companionship of another woman, I am happy for you. Really.
Please accept this explanation of my foolish romantic notions and forgive my actions. I did not mean those things I said to you. I hope that we can rekindle our friendship.
Always your Anna.
Content with the letter, she folded it and sealed it. Once she had cleaned the ink from her hands and righted a bit of her mess she hurried out of her room to deliver the very important message.