Author's Note: We're almost at the end of the story! Only a little bit left, hope everyone's been enjoying as we go!
It took some getting used to, seeing him without his mask, though it grew to be more and more welcomed. Her Erik being maskless was a sign of his comfort, was a sign of them being curled within their own home. The mask was only donned when he went out to meet her after rehearsals or when he went out on his own in the evenings to run errands. Little brought Christine more pleasure than seeing him at the piano with his face bared, so she could sit curled upon the sofa with a mug of cocoa, watching the wrinkles in his forehead move as he composed. For her lessons, her voice rang through their house lonesome and clear and she felt loved and cherished as he closed his eyes and blindly listened to the voice he had crafted.
The lessons grew to a higher ranking in her heart when Erik would sing with her when he felt up to it, though she knew he secretly treasured their duets as much as she did. Their voices soared, woven together in harmonies of love and lust, as he stared up at her from his seat at the piano. It was not uncommon for their songs to end with passionate embraces right there upon the music room's carpet, with the blazing fire from the grate beating down on their already hot bodies. Hands hurriedly yanked at linen and lips burned kisses together before Erik found his home inside her. Again and again she would call out as she looked at the man she loved and knew there was no way she could ever tire of being loved by him.
—
"All goods things must sail, but the tide will bring them back in."
"Do you promise?" Her question brought a smug smile to his crooked lips.
"It's only a few hours, my love. Don't look so down." His warm promise tugged a smile onto her own cheeks, so that they stood huddled in the darkness of the bottom cellar beaming at each other, faces merely a few inches away from each other.
"I know it, I just hate to leave you all day. I'd much rather being spending my time with you than La Carlotta or Meg, or any of the company really." The widening of his smile really was something she should have been used to by then, but the effect it had on his entire face was so beautiful it brought butterflies to the pit of her stomach. To see his smile so freely was a blessing; seeing him in his mask was slightly jarring after so many hours of intimate freedom, yet the mask could not hide his beauty from her, the glint of his teeth, and the brightness of his eyes. Somehow, his smile transformed the musky cellar into quite the romantic spot.
"Oh that's understandable, angel, you can't be blamed for that one. Alright, now up the stairs, think of me."
"Maestro, I do believe I should be thinking of my ballet, not my romantic interests, at least in rehearsal." She jokingly laid a hand to her chest in faux indignation, but Erik's chuckle and kiss on the cheek had her wrapping her arms around his torso in another much needed hug, before looking up to him as he spoke,
"That you should, that you should. But which is it that you prefer?" And for a sliver of time a little more of Erik's insecurities were laid bare before her; the coolness of his eyes stuttered for the briefest moment that revealed genuine worry that she would pick her craft over her love.
"I prefer you over everything, my love, and I hope you feel the same. I'd rather spend a mere moment wrapped in your arms then a thousand moons upon the stage." Christine's hands looked so small on his sunken cheek and the glaring leather of his mask, and even smaller between his large hands as he pulled her palms to his lips for him to kiss.
"Of course I feel the same way for you, Christine I'd give the world to you if I could."
"And I, you." Unable to contain her whimper at the feeling of his firm body holding her in a tight embrace, Christine eagerly slung her arms around Erik's neck for a deep kiss. His hot tongue was a cruel blessing when she knew she couldn't further their time together.
"I could stay with you," Her warm breath tickled his ear in the most enticing way, "we can spend the day in bed, if you'd like." Erik caught her trailing hands before they could untuck his shirt from his pants. It was his turn to whimper at her delectable pout before he forced himself to clear his throat and replace his clothes to a look of propriety.
"Tonight, darling, I promise it. Till then, I love you."
"I love you, too." A gentle kiss was set upon her forehead before she took the steps up and out of the cellar, and toward the dressing room to get into costume for the long day ahead of her.
—
The day dragged on longer than she would have liked, or would have been able to anticipate. The bright lights of the stage felt blinding, her leotard too restricting, the tittering chatter of past-friendships mindless and dull. Christine knew, as she stood awaiting Monsieur Reyer's direction, that she was simply lovesick and grumpy but still she ached to be back in Erik's arms before lunch had even arrived. Rehearsals for the summer production were in full swing. The sets were built and ready, most of the props were painted and set, and the costumes were in the final stages of fittings and yet Christine was still struggling to remember the dances. Her name was called out multiple times from a frustrated Madame Giry during the run of the show and her face flushed with humiliation as she attempted to remain calm in front of the rest of the cast. Madame Giry's group scolding was worse than any private one she had received, when Christine knew the entire corps de ballet was suffering because of her.
When lunch came and the full run of the show was finally completed, Christine sat nursing the blistered balls of her feet as she dunked stale bread into the watery chicken broth she'd been served. The dining hall had once been an abandoned rehearsal studio that the last manager had crammed a bunch of benches into, to replace the original dining hall that'd been worn down by termites and years of misuse. That had all happened before Christine joined the company, but months ago Erik had taken her down to visit the old deteriorating hall so she felt slightly obliged to be grateful for the food stained tables and splinter-threating benches that the company currently used. It was, after all, better to eat off a dirty dish than have a bug floating in your soup.
Oh if only she had known what Erik would become to her. Everything. It was as if the revelation he was so afraid would draw them apart, had bound them in an unbreakable bond of love. She was fully chained to her angel and her only regret was that she had not known that this happiness was possible for her in the past. If only she had known when Papa passed that another would bring her beautiful music, if only she had known that the touches of Madame Rouge's customers would be replaced by the treasured touches of the greatest pleasure, if only she had known when Raoul allowed her to be tossed out onto the streets that there would be a braver man that would not only give her a place to live but a place to call home.
"Christine?" Her curls bounced around her flushed face as her attention snapped up to Meg's expectant face.
"Geez, what is with you lately? It's like you don't even care about being here anymore."
"Oh Meg, you know I care—don't be ridiculous-"
"Then quit wasting our time, do you want me to help you with the intermezzi or not?" If she had admitted that her true desire was to never stand up on her blistered feet again, Meg might have smacked her.
"Of course, Meg. Thank you."
Once she put in the time to learn the dance, it truly wasn't all too complicated and once Meg warmed up to her again, it was even fun to be dancing with friends again. The afternoon portion of rehearsal was split up between costume fittings and running pieces of the show that needed more rehearsal, and so Christine spent much of her time in the wings waiting to be told where to go. She knew she should have been grateful not to feel the distraction of Erik's eyes upon her flesh, but she felt only lonely as she was passed from scene to scene throughout the day. The velvet curtains of his usual haunt, box five, were completely still, the rafters were empty, even the cellar below the dressing room was pitch black and silent. Though she felt silly poking around looking for her lover, it was a horribly foreboding feeling to suddenly realize she had no protection from her angel.
The theatre was much warmer than she remembered. Only a weekend alone with Erik and the real world was suddenly too loud, too bright, too crowded. Her spot in the wings allowed her the peace of forced silence from the stage manager, and a break from the stage lamps, as well as a view out into the empty house. Another tug at her heart came, but this was one she wished had not occurred. Guilt flooded through her for wishing that Raoul's kind smiles and promised waves were absent from the current rehearsal, she wished to push all thoughts of him aside but could not do so when nobody could explain his sudden absence.
It was with that thought that an ear shattering shriek yanked Christine from her reverie. Christine's breath caught in her throat as the fumbling, scuffling sounds of a fist fight pervaded the newly-silent theatre. Even the act onstage paused as La Carlotta stormed into the wing to see what commotion had distracted from her singing, the sight of the red headed soprano barging her way, however, blurred as she was pushed to the side. Panic gripped her heart and she prayed for what she saw to be a trick, but she knew it was no use. Time stood still, only the pounding of her frantic heart could be heard as she watched two burly stagehands grappling a masked figure to center stage. The entire company was silent as the actors set onstage moved out of the way for the struggling men, it did not take long before the stage was crowded with people watching the fight.
"Messieurs, we caught the murderer!"
The pointe shoes trapping Christine's feet couldn't carry her fast enough. She was shoving through the crowd, elbowing her way to the front, horrified at the attention the scene was getting. It was as if her worst nightmare had been ripped from her mind and pushed out onto the stage before her. Excited gasps tore through the tense air of the theatre as the mob surrounding center stage pushed each other for closer looks. When she finally made her way to the front of the crowd, her gasp was uncontainable. Erik was upon his knees between the two workers, blood dripping from his nose onto his wrinkled button-down, mask slightly askew to reveal his thin and bleeding lips. Worried eyes met hers' and she realized, with another sharp inhalation of breath, that there was nothing she could do to help him. The claims were all true, her lover was a murderer and now he had been caught. His double life was all being forced into this one moment where he would be judged for his crimes, not his good intentions.
"What is this? What's going on? Move out of my way!" Firmin led Andre onto the stage with waving arms parting the tight sea of people, he lightly brushed against Christine's shoulder as he made his way to stand in front of the sweating, battered trio of men.
"We found him, Monsieur, in the dressing corner waiting for another prey!" He'd been waiting for her in her usual resting spot, his apologetic glance explained everything she never wanted to hear him say.
"It's the ghost! I know it! It's him!" Meg's thrilled scream brought frustrated tears to Christine's eyes as the crowd became even more rallied up. If only he was a ghost, Christine prayed, then he could disappear into thin air.
"Madame Giry, fetch the police."
"No!" Christine did not register her own yell until all eyes were upon her. Erik gave the slightest shake of his head but her desperate cry could not be taken back.
"Ms. Daae, what is it?" Andre's fatherly tone shook her from her reverie, dragging her eyes from Erik's orbs of despair. The crowd was getting hungry for more gossip, the excitement spreading like wildfire into the crowded wings.
"He—he is injured, perhaps we should treat him, first." There was a collective grumble of annoyance at her lame suggestion before she was completely ignored and Madame Giry was ordered to continue on with her duties of gathering the authorities.
"What were you doing sneaking around our theatre?"
For the first time since his appearance had been discovered, Erik pulled his eyes from Christine's shaking figure and focused, instead, on the gleaming wood of the stage. Briefly, Christine wondered if he'd ever been on the stage before, and if she'd ever have the chance to ask him and find out. Blinking away her tears, Christine waited with bated breath to hear Erik's honey voiced response, but it did not come. He was refusing to speak; the more the managers questioned his slumped form, the quieter the theatre grew with anticipation as Erik remained frozen and silent.
"Who are you, villain? Shall we remove your mask and see?" Pure horror dripped into the pit of her stomach as Erik twitched in his stance.
"Now, now monsieur. You need not fear, whether it happens here or at the station your identity will be revealed and all of France will put a face to the crime. It is only the anticipation of the unmasking that will make it worse." Never before had Christine seen a man look more pathetic or frightened than her Erik did under the scrutiny of the entire theatre.
"Take it off." Firmin's order yanked a gasp from Christine's impossibly dry throat, the crowd around her pushed forward in excitement as a stagehand pulled the clean leather away. She could not help but close her eyes and listen to the disgust of the crowd ruining what she had only just heeled. Gasps and screams nearly covered Firmin's curse; to think only hours ago she had kissed that shriveled face as she found ecstasy in those bound arms. Tears mixed with blood upon that ravaged face as Erik remained still, allowing the audience to take their fill of his horrid scar.
"What happened to you, Monsieur?" Andre's shocked murmur quieted the ballerinas' screams and Christine was forced to wrap her mind around the catastrophe of her two worlds meeting. If only she had remained in bed, if only she could hide him away somewhere safe where no one could speak to him or hurt him ever again!
"God." The admission brought bubbling talk of the Devil throughout the space. It was suddenly hot, obscenely hot, as Erik's wet eyes found hers' in the crowd. The strength she found the night of his first unmasking was back to her like poison in her veins. Suddenly light-headed, Christine felt herself once again pushing to the front of the crowd, a horrified booming voice coming from her lips.
"Give him back his mask, you animals!" Her yell caused Andre to jump and pulled a few surprised murmurs from her coworkers, "What pleasure do you gain from torturing this poor man?" A braveness she had not realized she possessed guided her hands in ripping the mask away from the burlier stagehand. All eyes watched as she knelt onto the cold floor and placed the mask gently onto Erik's heated flesh. The world was blue as a long moment of silent confusion passed over the hovering crowd. Christine ripped the material of her costume's skirt to wipe blood from her lover's battered face.
"Ms. Daae, this is a dangerous man." Ignoring Firmin's words, she ran her fingers through Erik's sweaty locks and brushed the hair out of his eyes, glorying in the way he leaned into her touch.
"No, he is a good man." Christine's whisper was met with a small smile from Erik, but was barely heard over the yells of excitement at Madame Giry's return with a gang of police quick in tow.
"Be good." Tears sprung forth at his words, but she nodded in obedience. An emptiness filled her as the inevitable began to unravel around her, her worst nightmare was spinning before her eyes as her fingers were yanked from Erik's collar. The theatre was freezing and too loud, the familiar faces around her unrecognizable as she struggled to pull breaths into her shuttering chest. The crowd was thinning away from her and thickening toward the herd of police racing up the aisle of the theatre.
At some point, after Erik had been bustled out of sight, she felt a warm hand upon her shoulder. Her eyes had remained sewn to Erik's until she could no longer see him as he was dragged out into the front lobby. The warm hand belonged to the manager Andre, who guided her to her feet from her crouched position with a concerned smile.
"How did you know him, Ms. Daae?" It was not a question of demand, but a genuine interest from the man with grey eyes under the furrowed salt and pepper eyebrows. He stood tall and proper affront her, awaiting her answered with a fatherly air of pride that she found herself reveling in.
"I love him, monsieur, and I quit."