Author's Note: Thank you all so much for reading. I do hope that you're enjoying, I had a great time writing this. Please review!
Christine wasn't sure how to take the news; she did not wish to overreact, but sitting upon his settee as he stoked the fire, she realized she knew nothing of this man. He lived below an opera house and had gotten her into the ballet, he treated her with nothing but kindness and had promised her vocal lessons, yes. But he was not the angel he had posed to be and she had granted him kisses on cheeks and embraces much too intimate for a mortal man. Erik was large, it was a fact that had never frightened her before that evening; he had to have been half a yard taller than her and could overpower her quite easily. In the dining room, he'd told her of his lies with a prideful smirk but shaking hands and she was not sure how to deal with the obvious contradiction. Who was this man? And why had he saved her?
"I hope you are not considering running, you would never make it out of the catacombs alive." His comment held a sense of finality in it that brought a shiver down her spine. Tears filled her eyes against her will and she stared up at him with such a look of fear and horror that he thought she might faint.
"Christine, you created a role and I filled it, the tears are unnecessary."
"Why are you being so cruel?" The clenching and unclenching of his fists did not settle her nerves and he had to restrain from rolling his eyes as she scooted backwards on the couch with every step closer that he took.
"I am being honest with you and your tears are insulting. I've brought nothing but kindness into your life but you cower as if I shall beat you." She could not see what she was doing to him, could not see that his heart felt as if it was tearing in two. For decades he had avoided all human contact and the moment he let one human into his life she turned on him as soon as she knew his true identity. Every shake of her frail shoulders and silent tear that slipped down her cheeks was a deep stab to his heart, she would leave him now with nothing but the memory of her sweetness. Christine did not know of the light and joy she had brought to his life, for the first time in ages he remembered smiling and awaking with a purpose: her. And she planned to steal that from him, he could not let her.
"You could, though, I do not know that you won't beat me…I don't know anything about you."
"You believed angel with a nod of my head but refuse good man because of my mask. I see the game, Christine, and will admit that I thought you better than such frivolous prejudices."
"I said nothing of your mask, only of your lies. How could a good man feign the role of an angel?"
"How could a whore feign the role of ballerina? For necessity, I propose." She reacted as if he had physically slapped her; a gasp tumbled from her parted lips before he could immediately apologize for his mindless insult. Frail hands moved to wrap her thin arms around herself in a hug as she began to rock against her own accord, tears rolling faster than she thought they ever could have. She should have known, she thought to herself, she should have known to never tell another soul of her past when Raoul had abandoned her. Her angel was false, there was no escaping that, and their friendship was hanging from a thin thread.
"Who are you to judge a whore? Tell me who you are, Erik." Her world was falling apart around her, unravelling each way she turned, and she did not know that the way her eyes turned up to gaze at him were with the same pleading wonderment she used to give him, when he was an angel and she nothing more than a ballerina in training. How odd it was, that their entire relationship had changed in a matter of hours, and all because she had wanted to spend more time with him. The tension settled between them as quickly as it had arisen, when he reached out a trembling hand to brush her tears away. A good man deserved a chance, she supposed she owed her savior that much.
"A man alone in a world full of hatred, I think that is something you can sympathize with."
"And why is your world full of hatred?"
"Not my world, my dear, but your world. The world of people born flawless and able to strive toward their dreams." His back was turned to her, impossibly straight, as he stared into the fire. Flames flickered across his mask and she thought she understood.
"Your mask?"
"Hides a deformity from birth, I'm afraid." His gesture to the mask was one full of hatred and something in her heart reached out to him, then. She tucked her knees up under her body on the couch and, without asking as she usually would, pulled the elegant blanket from the back of his couch and wrapped it around her cold body.
"Where did you come from, if not heaven?"
"I was born to a hateful mother in France and travelled from there. It is not an interesting story Christine, I was a lonely boy who taught himself to make music a friend. When I was older, I worked for the shah of Persia…I killed there, I killed many people…" At her look of horror a grim smile grew upon his thin lips, "I regret it, Christine, I am not a murderer at heart. I hope you can learn to trust that. I found myself here when this opera house was rising from the dust. I made myself a home and that is when I found you, well some odd years after that."
He had no interest of letting on about his age, about the idea of him being old enough to father her. Christine could see the hurt in his eyes as he spoke, even though his words were directed at the carpet beneath his feet, she saw regret and heartache stirring behind those brown eyes. She wondered, for half a second, if a woman had been the cause of any of his pain but pushed that thought to the side when his gaze met her's once more.
"I do not judge you for killing, if it was what you needed to keep yourself alive. My papa always said that a man who does not kill to save his own life, is one that does not deserve to live. It is sad but…I suppose some cases are more extreme than others…" Erik's eyes were pulled away from her and she briefly wished she could reach out and pull his face back so she could see what he was thinking. She did nothing of the sort, instead she tried to lighted his mood by moving the conversation forward, "I had thought you were hiding your angelic beauty from my sinful gaze." He chuckled at this, turning to glance at her for a mere second before turning back to his fire, shocked at how comfortable she looked in his home, let alone his presence after this revelation.
"How I wish it, Christine, how I wish it could have been so easy. I want to be an angel for you."
"You still can be," He scoffed and shook his head yet she continued on, "not an angel exactly, but all that an angel is. A friend, a teacher, Erik you have to know how much you have meant to me these past eight months," For a half a second she wondered why she was reaching out to a murderer, a murderer who had her in his home no less, but when his grateful eyes met her green ones she could not find it within herself to be worried. Erik was a good man, her gut spoke louder than her mind. At his doubting glance she forced herself to admit what she thought he had known, "everything. Erik, you have been everything to me."
But not nearly as much that she had been to him, this he knew. There was no way for his meager presence to match what her godly beauty meant to him. A comfortable silence grew between them then, his back then turned to her, as they each reflected on the other, on the long talks they shared in shadowed hallways, on the encouraging embraces he had granted her after tough rehearsals, at the smell of roses in her hair, at the feeling of his leather gloves wiping snow away from her chilled cheeks.
"Erik? Do you think we are given a fate as a punishment for a past life?" He had thought that once, yes, but she had changed his mind about that. There was no way this angel could have done anything to deserve the cruelties forced upon her.
"No, I think we are each given experiences we need in order to learn what others may have learned in easier ways. These are the lessons that dictate our lives, which dictate who we are."
"And who are you, Erik?" She was tired, now, after such an exhausting evening. Her little head was resting upon the arm of the couch, a blush from the warmth of the fire and blanket tinted her cheeks, pink lips slightly parted as dazed eyes took him in in a serene way. The picture of heaven was falling asleep in his living room and he had no say in the matter. The frantic and panicked thoughts of the day were slowly clearing from her mind, as if she was pushing rose petals through water, until she was left with nothing but a blank slate and Erik's voice to sway her mind.
"I am a man who learned to duck his face from the more fortunate, I am afraid."
"That's sad…" Her dark eyelashes were pressing fluttering kisses to her cheeks as she fought off her sudden drowsiness.
"Yes, yes it is. And you, Christine, you are a girl who has yet to learn the importance of her own beauty and what things it can do to a man." His words were swimming through her head, eyebrows furrowed above shut eyes, but she was too tired to argue. She knew exactly why men liked her beauty, what sorts of things they liked to do to her body, but Erik could not have meant those crude things to her. What exactly he could have meant, she was unable to decipher in her sleepy state, and upon his whispered order she fought sleep no longer and allowed herself to nod off.
She arose in a bed of beige silk and for a heart-wrenching moment Raoul came to mind. But this was not the de Chagny mansion, no, Madame de Chagny would never own a room with black walls or rusted sconces with wax melting onto the walls, nor would she accept the streaky mirror across from the bed. For the first time in what felt like years, Christine awoke well-rested in a comfortable bed with little worry for where she was. Erik. He came to her mind with a deep blush before she glanced down in relief to see she had slept in the same clothes she'd arrived in. If she called for him, would he come?
"Erik?" She glanced about her surroundings in confusion, why did he have this empty bedroom? It could not be used often, unless it was his. This thought brought even more heat to her cheeks and she called out again, though she remained relaxed upon the fluffy pillows, wanting nothing more than to dig her face into the down and remain there for eternity, especially if this was his scent that lingered so near. The real world seemed exhausting now, she had no concept of the hour and was relieved that she was not called back for rehearsal until Tuesday; if she had slept correctly it could only be Monday. On the third call of his name, Erik arrived, opening the door across from her spot upon the bed and standing awkwardly in the doorway as he took in her sleep-tousled appearance.
"Christine, I trust you slept well?" A formality swept in the room with him and she wasn't sure whether to embrace it whole-heartedly or curse its existence entirely.
"Indeed! Thank you, you must forgive my rudeness, I did not mean to fall asleep-"
"Think nothing of it. I hope you will join me for breakfast, I know it is early but I still-"
"Of course, Erik, thank you."
"There's a dress in the trunk, if you would like…It was left in a dressing room many years ago, I don't know what brought me to keep it all these years, but now you may have it." He exited the room before she could thank him, or ask him where exactly she was, but that was probably his plan.
"What is that room for?" Christine asked as she spread jam across the toast he had served her.
"So many questions with you," He was not smiling while he said it, but she knew he meant no offense, "it is a guest room, I use it just as any other household uses a guest room."
"Will I get to meet your other guests, one day?" His flinch did not go unnoticed under her curious eyes, but she said nothing, only awaited his answer.
"If you're on your very best of behavior, I suppose it is possible. Are you ready to sing, today? I am no angel, but I am quite the accomplished musician, still." It was an offer made to the sugar bowl, but she accepted none the less.
He was not what she had expected in a tutor. As a friend and angel he was supportive and reassuring, as a tutor he was strict and quiet, attentively listening to her every note as she bumbled through her warm-ups. Before they had even begun their formal lesson he had stood her affront the piano and fixed her posture, pushing on her shoulders, straightening her back, lowering her chin but lengthening her neck. It was quite an ordeal and throughout the lesson, as she grew comfortable and her posture slumped, he continued to snap corrections at her. Even when she did not think he was looking, he seemed to know what exactly she was doing.
"Drop your chin, you're closing off!" After two hours of the same scales and the same corrections, he grew impatient and slammed his fingers down on the keys to create a horrendous cacophony of angry notes.
"Christine, if you do not wish to improve, by all means, do continue on in your mediocre way."
"I've never sang before, angel, you cannot be mad at ignorance." Erik's eyebrows rose at her boldness but he could not lie, he liked this strength within her. Had he never seen it as an angel because she was scared to insult a godly being or was this something new that he himself was watching grow before his very eyes?
"No, only at impudence. Follow my orders and soar amongst the stars, disobey them and find yourself amongst the ballerinas, is that understood?" Even after such a short time with him, she was able to seek out the positivity in his harsh words.
"So you think I have potential, then?" She had expected at least a smile from him, but received a curt nod before he spoke again,
"I think you have a great gift, Christine, which with the right training could lead you to stardom."
"You, of course, are the right training aren't you?" It was meant to be a joking comment, but the way he stared up at her from the piano bench said she had insulted.
"That's for you to decide, of course." He mocked her in a way that brought heat to her cheeks, but she could not help the small heat that arose in her stomach from his comment. He was smiling, the slightest of smiles, in a teasing manner and her heart lifted slightly as she let out an unrestrainable laugh.
"Then, of course, only the best will do. I'd be honored if you'd be my tutor, Erik." The jovial mood was snapped away as he shut his sheet music, a jerking motion of his head alerting her that he accepted his position.
"It is time that I take you home."