Erik made his way beneath the grand staircase in the foyer of the Opera House. He'd not frequented the space often when he'd been there, as it was far too close to the public places that he tried vigilantly to avoid. He preferred various other routes that led directly to his lair, he corrected himself, his former home, but they were entirely buried by the feet of snow that lay on the ground.
His mind was swirling. It wrestled with the knowledge of the world he now lived in, feeling entirely human, entirely alive. But the old world, the one he'd known with far more accuracy, was alluring, and it beckoned him. For this was the territory of the specter, the Phantom. It was not the world of Erik the man, the husband, the father. He was two distinct persons, trying in vain, to co-exist in the same body. Both fighting for claim of the present.
Erik closed his eyes. He needed to be of certain resolve. A divided mind would not serve him well. He'd come for one purpose, to defend Nadir, and Meg. Erik the man, was ill-equipped to do so. He needed to embody the one creature that instilled fear in everyone, and these most recent days, even he himself. For the Phantom was invincible, unattainable, and undaunted. He was a creature who rightly deserved to be feared if not revered.
Erik found himself at the door that led out into what he knew would be the foyer. Pausing, he put his ear against the wood. There was nary a sound. He leaned his forehead heavily against it. He closed his eyes, thinking in those moments, of his dear sweet Christine. Surely the heavens would see fit to protect her should the worst come to pass. He thought of his yet unborn children. He loved them so, though he'd never touched them. This was his reason for living, for breathing, for loving. He'd have to be strong, putting Erik the man aside, all thoughts of that life aside but for a time. The Phantom would be in the forefront. It was in that persona that he felt powerful, felt unshakable. As flesh and blood he could die. But as a legend, as legend, he could be something else entirely. Men were fallible; legends were untouchable. Tonight he would delve into the realm of legends. For this was from where he drew his strength, his courage to do what must be done.
Slowly he opened the door, seeing no one, he slipped through, closing it behind him carefully. Erik paused, taking in the grandeur of all his eyes beheld. It had received several embellishments, including the addition of several fainting benches for the ladies and several busts of famous composers, gilded and larger than life. The staircase had been polished to a gem-like sheen. The walls completely painted and fixtures refurbished. They'd done everything to make amends to the shell that was previously the structure of the Opera House. He would return to examine the hall in great detail. He gazed upon it once more, emblazoning it in his mind, lest his journey take an unfavorable turn.
Erik made his way over to the edge of the stairs, looking up at them. It had been where he'd descended when he'd delivered 'Don Juan' to a stunned audience at the masquerade ball. Where, in his anger, he'd snatched the ring from Christine's neck. How that day had pained him so. He'd thought her to be engaged to Raoul, but hadn't given her the chance to explain before he'd snatched the ring and was gone. He'd nearly put an end to Raoul that night. Madame Giry's quick thinking and intervention had proven otherwise. She'd snatched Raoul from the very brink of death. Erik, in his anger, would certainly have made swift end to him.
He shook his head. Had he done so, perhaps none of this would have come to pass. It was not meant to be, and though he'd no use of his own for the boy, it seemed Meg had a fascination with him, though Erik hoped it would be fleeting.
In his many hours of solitude he'd rather envisioned Meg and Madame Giry would have want to return to Chauesser, to Courtland Manor, and leave Paris behind. He surmised that Meg might make a good match there. She'd certainly have no need to worry for a place to live, nor of finding a wealthy suitor. Erik had seen to that. No when it was time, Meg would be a woman quite able to care for herself in that regard. Erphan, if groomed, Erik thought, might make an excellent suitor for Meg though they'd never laid eyes on one another. He was handsome and loyal, two things any young woman would desire in a suitor.
Erik was no match-maker, he'd merely been thinking about an alternate life. One that would permit everyone happiness. If he could but have all that he cared for, in the same city, far away from the cares of Paris, then, and only then could they all have what they desired. Nadir would be free to pursue more than a mere friendship with Madame Giry, Meg and Christine would be together again, and he, he would have all his loved ones around him, a family of sorts at last, and he would care for them all. He could imagine no other solution that would provide them lasting happiness. No, if Meg were to stay in Paris and become betrothed to Raoul, it would put their entire world in upheaval, just when they longed for peace the most.
Erik shook his head once more. This was no time to think of such things. His mind simply wanted to be anywhere but where it was, rambling off in every different direction so that it shan't be required in the present. There was something soothing about delusion. It was like a drug that transported one quite easily away from all things painful, allowing for a place where one had supreme control over events and people, ah yes, that was a world Erik felt quite comfortable in, and well suited for. It was, it had been, the realm of the Phantom, and that is now where he found himself. He grappled with it, the present man of Erik not wanting to let go of all things human he had come to know. But the Phantom, he was a powerful creature that overcame even the most willful.
Erik closed his eyes. Once more he needed to make the mental switch. The longer he tarried, the more opportunity he gave Crawlings, and the less his very purpose for being there was served. He knew where he had need to go. He opened his eyes yet again, grasping the edges of his cloak. He slowly slid along the side of the wall. The lamps having been extinguished for the night provided proper shadow for him to move about quite literally undetected. Erik made his way swiftly, silently, to the door on the other side of the staircase. If it had not been altered, it would lead to the dressing rooms behind the stage, and to the mirror, it was the quickest way to the cellars, and the broadest path. He could only hope that it had not been discovered and sealed.
The door was not locked, and indeed the corridor remained intact. He made his way swiftly down it to the last dressing room, moving in and closing the door behind him. His breath was labored, not from exertion, but rather exhilaration. The very embodiment of the Phantom was like a drug, a welcome friend that reeled him back in with such force…tugged at every fiber of his being. The movements, the breathing, the way he held his cloak in his hand, it was like a comfortable shoe one wears not because it is attractive, nay often it was not, but because it connected with you, provided you an inner power, a comfort not found elsewhere. He sighed. There was little to do but give in to it now, for surely he'd need no quibbling in his mind when he reached his lair.
He walked through the near blackness to the back of the room. A small sliver of cool white moonlight piercing the darkness just near the mirror. Erik smiled, it was still there. He felt about the edges, it had not been sealed. He kneeled down, releasing the small lever just under the bottom edge. He heard the latch release. He inhaled once more. Once he passed through this porticos, he was no longer in the world of Erik. He was in the Phantom's realm.
He lowered his head, "take her into your care Lord, watch over her. Give her strength and courage to go on alone if it should be required. Guide her and guard her, providing all that she needs…" he paused, a small grip in his throat, "if I should not return to her, provide her comfort. Help her to rest in the knowledge that her angel would never truly leave her, even if the flesh and blood she's come to know should cease to exist."
He raised his head, inhaled once more, and pushed the mirror aside. He passed through, turning to take his last glimpse at the world of mortals. He pushed the mirror shut, hearing it latch. He was in utter darkness. He neither needed, nor had want for light. Though it had been a considerable length of time that he'd been gone, he knew every stone, ever out-jut of every corner by heart. His feet would travel it without issue.
It took but minutes only before he was at the spiraling path that led to the lower levels of the Opera House. Though there was an dreadful smell, it seemed no different underfoot. He inhaled. It was a mixture of the stale remnants in the air from the fire, and all that had happened in their efforts afterward to clean it. The scent, it permeated his mind, transporting him to a different place and time, though his feet continued to make the long journey to the lower levels, his mind was in a different place entirely.
He and Nadir were walking in the rain through the burned guts of a house that had been leveled by a great fire. They'd poked and prodded at the few inhabitants that they'd found, but it was of no use, they were gone. The charred remains of desks, half consumed, great divans, works of art, frames of beds entirely burned to a barely recognizable state. Erik had paused at the burned piano, running his hand along the ashen soot that lay atop of it. He lifted what remained of the lid, peering through the ever increasing rain, at the inner workings of the beautiful instrument that had been ravaged by the monster.
They'd picked up several books, great authors whose works now lay among the rubble of a house owned by six generations of a family, now laid to waste. Their sin? Not they…no he…..the master of the house had refused her. In that kingdom, there was no greater treason one could commit. She'd ordered it burned to the ground….with the inhabitants in it.
Erik and Nadir had learned of her nefarious plot far too late to be of any good use. Now they could only bare witness to what evil the woman was capable of. It only furthered their need to rid themselves of her. Of all that they'd thought they were possessing of wealth, of fame, of status and position. The price required of their conscience…their souls…was far too great.
Erik shook his head, returning from that wretched memory, to the present chill of his flesh. The further he descended; the colder it became. The halls, the stairwells, had not been managed since he'd been there. No caretaker to clean them, to prevent moss and the like from taking over. His domicile had become something of a ruins itself since he'd departed. He'd not thought of it since he'd gone from there some months before, thinking he shan't ever return, save once more to retrieve what remained of his funds. He was descending ever deeper, leaving far behind the world that he'd come to know and love.
Thus far, he'd no sense that anyone had ventured there. Though this was not likely the path that Meg and Nadir would have chosen, preferring the more formal route with a generous set of stairs to travel. Erik's eyes were slowly adjusting to the light. It had been months since he'd had to travel in such a way, and it surprised him that his eyes had remembered their adjustments. He moved ever more swiftly the lower he descended. No sound, no hint of light, and from the cobwebs he encountered, he was entirely certain that none had passed this way before him.
He found himself at the bottom. Standing on the flat ground that led to the water. The stench, the sickly sweet smell of water contaminated with every foul thing that would have drifted here after the great fire, invaded his nostrils, nearly making him sick. He shook his head. He'd not thought himself a benefactor of the Opera House in this regard, but he had been a good caretaker of the lower levels, and it was never more obvious than it was now that he indeed had given life to an area that would be ever so deserving of the term bowels.
His eyes searched for the boat, though he was certain it would be gone. He looked here and there, and indeed there was no sight of it. His eyes quickly rising to the ledge just three meters above him on the left. The large plank still protruded from there, they had either not found it, or had and decided it was of no use to remove it. He smiled. It had served him well. It provided a place where one could perch to watch if needed, or, as in this case it served as a platform on which one could traverse the dark waters of the river that ran to the very place he was headed.
Erik, nay, the Phantom, made swift work of climbing to the ledge, using the rope to lower the large set of intertwined planks to the ground. He dug further back along the rocky slope, retrieving a long pole, lowering it and himself to the ground. He looked the planks over, they were indeed filthy but intact. Slowly, silently he put the boards into the water, climbing aloft, using the pole to propel him over the waters.
He moved slowly through the water, lifting and shifting the pole silently pushing him through the corridors. He glanced from side to side, taking in all that the months of neglect had done to the halls. No doubt, lack of air current, no heat, no light had shone there, for every manner of thing green now grew across the faces of the gargoyles and sentries. He listened to the utter silence that greeted him at every turn. He could hear only the slightest echo of his own breathing.
It was as black as pitch the further he moved toward his former lair. He'd turned the last corner before he'd be in front of the gate that entered his grotto, and still he saw and heard nothing. Surely there would be something, some indication of what had gone on there, but there was nothing but silence. He began to move slower and slower until he felt the plank rub along the edges of what he was certain was the iron gate that kept the world out of what was his. He tapped at with his pole. It was there, as solid and sturdy as ever. He pushed his way over to the farthest left side, thrusting his pole down deep into the water, pushing at the lever. It did not move at first. In fact it took nearly a dozen attempts before it finally released and the gate began its screeching ascent. He covered his ears with both hands. The element of surprise was certainly lost now. All things exposed to the elements of damp and darkness did not fair well, and surely in several months more, the gate itself would be nearly impregnable. Erik listened until he was certain the gate had risen. If all was still intact the curtain would certainly have retreated to the left and the right. He raised his pole, poking around into the air. There was nothing.
He put the pole once more into the ground, hoping beyond hope that the candelabras had not been found and destroyed. It had been one of his greatest masterpieces he'd thought. He lifted the pole out of the water, pushing yet another lever along the side of the wall. Then quickly thrust it back into the water, holding his current position. He sat for a moment, yet again nothing. His heart sank. No doubt the water, and lack of use had damaged them. He'd try but once more, then he'd make his way over to the shore and find light there.
If there had been anyone there, they'd certainly not have had use of a lamp or light of any kind. Erik sighed, he was either far too late, or his arrival was before the event in which case he could do the most good. His heart rate quickened. He'd need light to know which way his fate had turned.
He exhaled, he'd try once more. He gave the lever one last jab, this one more forceful than all previous attempts. He nearly lurched off the planks as he heard the screeching scrape of metal unused for a long while come to life beneath him. It was as if he'd awakened a great sleeping monster from the dark depths of the murky waters. He listened as the strained sounds of metal scraping against metal produced a ripple in the placid waters, and a splashing sound as the great beasts rose up from the depths.
Erik blinked, though they rose, there was no sign of life. Surely someone had found his tap into the kerosene, or it had become infiltrated by water…but wait. His breath caught as he saw the first flickers. Suddenly there was a great noise boiling up from below and one by one, the candelabras burst to life.
He squinted as the brightness of them revealed a light far greater than his eyes had seen in more than a few hours. He looked at them in marvel. Yes, several were not fully lit, but the mere fact that they still in fact sustained light, was a bit of a miracle to him. One he was entirely grateful for just now.
He both wanted to, and wanted not, to look over at the shore. It was the moment of truth. He closed his eyes, and then without further thought turned his head. His eyes darted to the bed where Christine had said she'd seen them near. He sighed a bit relieved. There was nothing. His eyes quickly scanning all surfaces, there was nothing. No sign of person nor blood. He lowered his head, he had arrived before, or perhaps the nightmare had been nothing more than a befuddled dream.
He lifted his head. Now, knowing that what he feared most was not there, he could survey the expanse of his home. His lips began to tremble, his eyes now taking in the sight with far different purpose. The music began to rage in his head. Though there was no sound, his mind created it for him, with such veracity that he could feel it in his soul. He looked at the great velvet curtains that had covered the walls. The ones that still remained had been ripped to shreds, no doubt by sword. The mirrors, smashed, their frames laying waste like dead carcasses hung from a wall. His music, the sheets he'd so lovingly penned and laid about to dry. All scattered and strewn about on the ground without care. His tables overturned and broken. He could not bare to look, though he knew he must.
Slowly he pushed the plank over to the shore, dismounting as he'd done thousands of times, flinging his cloak around him, and off his shoulders onto the shore. He mounted the stairs, his eyes averted until he stood before it. He closed his eyes running his hand along the top surface. He exhaled heavily. It had not befallen the fate of an axe nor fire. Slowly, reticently he opened his eyes. Moving around to the bench wiping it with his hand before he sat in front of what had been his companion for so many years. It felt as if he was returning home to a friend. Tears welled in his eyes. It was haunting to be there…a life that felt both present and ten lifetimes passed.
He lifted the filthy cover. It reminded him so of the piano that he'd discovered at the church during the fire that leveled the small village, the one that now sat at the winter house. He knew better than to try to play it lest he damage its delicate strings. One day, perhaps, he could return for it. His heart rose and sunk for he knew it could not be so. He ran his fingers lightly over the ivory keys. The many hours of music he'd composed on them, he could feel the small grooves in the keys that had been formed by his fingers for the hours and hours of use the instrument had endured.
He closed his eyes, if for but a moment he was home. Something inside of him was at peace. He really couldn't say what happened those next hours, but he'd turned into a different creature. One memory had set it all in motion. Before he knew it he'd rolled up his sleeves, and had begun toiling with great fervor. He'd retrieved clothes, wiping away the layers of soot and filth that covered nearly every inch of anything that had a surface for it to rest upon. He'd re-hung curtains with new ones stored in deep caves. Damaged mirrors were filled with fabrics or works of art long forgotten in the deep recesses. Candles once again found their homes. A broom had cleaned not only floors but cobwebs. The dry flints remained in the canister allowing him to start a small fire in the black cast-iron stove he'd used to break the chill in the air. The bed, Christine's bed, was wiped down and polished, a fresh set of sheets retrieved from a dry trunk at the back of the room. He worked at a frenzied pace, though he could not say why. The more he tried to rationalize it, the great his mind fought with him. It was simply something that must be done; it was cathartic for his soul.
As he gathered the last of the sheets that had been scattered about, stacking them carefully into a small velvet lined box, his spirit began to calm. All that had coursed through his veins in expectation of defending himself, Meg, Nadir, now spent on his fervent toils. He sat down, his brow and back now damp with sweat, he looked once more at the space he'd occupied for so many years. It was not now, nor would it ever be fully restored to its former grandeur. Music had raged in his mind as he toiled, and still it persisted. It was like a rather long goodbye. His parting homage to the music that had been born there; to a place that had sheltered the creature that he'd been.
Erik's eyes traveled the expanse of the room. He had missed it, far more than he'd even realized. He imagined the times that Christine had been there. Her first wide-eyed exposure to the Phantom in flesh, the lair where he lived, the kingdom of music where he'd fashioned all he'd taught her. It had been shelter to the very first awakenings of her passion for him, where she'd first gazed upon him as a man she could touch.
His hand rose to his cheek. He'd changed so very much since then. Not simply his flesh, but his soul. It had been dark and clouded with such emptiness when he'd occupied these walls, now, now…it was all very different.
He sighed, putting his head in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. He wiped the sweat from his brow. He was relieved, in more ways than he could describe. Nadir was surely not here, nor was Meg, nor had they been. His home, nay, his former home, had been restored, if but a small bit, and his soul felt a relief, though why he could not say.
He inhaled. As long as he had found himself there, he'd just as well retrieve the remainder of his funds so he'd have no reason to return yet again. Erik walked over to the rock, lifting it and several more to reveal the hole and the box that was in it. It still contained a rather large fortune. He'd not leave even one note in it. For truly if he'd find himself there once more, he'd much more stored in the caverns. It would be his children's inheritance. One day he'd return for it. He'd draw a map for them, a treasure map, lest one day he not be able to tell them of its whereabouts. He smiled. What young child would not relish the adventures of a treasure map?
He went about tucking the money into a bag he'd retrieved. Stuffing it as full as he could. He returned the container and the rocks to their former home. He stood looking about the large room. Memory after memory flooded his mind. He closed his eyes. He was no longer alone, no longer had he to learn to live a life spent in solitude. She had changed everything, their love had changed everything.
He inhaled, opening his eyes once more. He'd return to Christine, and they would return to Chauesser, and the comforts they'd come to know there. If only there had been some way for him to have allowed she and Meg, Madame Giry, to see one another, to visit if only ever so briefly, the trip would have been for a greater purpose.
He shook his head. Surely Madame Giry and Meg were even now in the comfort of that boy's home. He felt his back stiffening, but then release. He'd no reason to hate the boy anymore, he posed no further threat to he and Christine, for Christine was fully his, Raoul would never be able to stake claim to her again. But something in him still loathed Raoul…loathed him for ever wanting what was not meant to be his.
He sighed. It was time. Time to return to the world that he now lived in, and leave that of the Phantom behind. He had prepared for the worst, embraced all he'd needed for it, but in the end, thankfully, it had proven to be unnecessary.
Erik went about extinguishing candle after candle until only the candelabras remained. He rolled down his sleeves, put on his vest, and reaffixed his cloak about his shoulders. He lifted the top hat, putting it on his head, as he took the pole into his hand and stepped off the shore onto the wood. He turned taking in the sight once more. He'd put it into order this time.
He turned away, pushing the planks slowly across the water until he came to the mouth of the cave. He'd not look back this time. He passed through, tripping both levers. As he heard the candelabras make their descent, and the cavern grow dark once more, he felt an inner peace. The gate came down solidly behind him with a great thud. He sighed. His travels there had not been what he'd expected, but it had been a gift to him. He'd be able to put it behind him now. That life was gone forever.
Erik could now be the husband and father that he desired to be. Though he'd not let his guard down until he was again safely in Christine's arms, something in him had changed. There was a reconciliation of sorts that had taken place, as though the two diverging personalities that lived within him had found a balance, struck a bargain. As he pushed the plank all the way to the ledge where he'd first entered the water he glanced left and right, saying his silent goodbyes. He had no need to stow the plank once more on the ledge, for he'd no care if anyone found it now. He'd no further use for it, nor what he was leaving behind. The piano, yes, that was a great loss, but there was simply no way to rescue it. He'd have to lose some things in order to embrace others. It was a necessary sacrifice for a world far better than the one he'd known there.
Erik began the arduous task of climbing up the spiraling pathway that led to the surface of the earth, and back to his Christine. He'd only hoped it was not yet light. His pocket watch he'd slipped into Christine's cloak pocket, a parting gift in the event things had not gone well. He was thankful that it had not been as she imagined, though why she'd dreamed it was somewhat of a mystery. Perhaps he'd return to her side to find her visions changed. He knew only that he had not found his friend, nor Meg in the very place she'd imagined them, and he was nothing, if not entirely relieved.
Soon Erik found himself at the upper levels of the cellars. He tarried but a moment at the door of the man he'd come to know, however indirectly. He wondered what had become of the man. The door was fixed shut. Perhaps he'd gone on to some other endeavor, if he were fortunate. Though Erik knew all too well that fortune did not often smile on such men.
He sighed, and continued upward. Erik now stood at the back of the mirror, looking into the dressing room once more, just as he'd done hundreds of times. He'd often done so as the cast of leading opera singers would revel in their great performances far away from the prying eyes of the patrons or mangers. Erik often felt as though he was joining them in an odd way, looking on while they tibbled their champagne, congratulating one another. How far removed he had been in reality, but how much more human he felt just being close to the performers.
Now he'd no reason to hide his face, though it would never grace the Opera House, nor any other establishment in Paris, for Christine's sake, it shan't ever be so. He reached out, pushing the mirror aside. He climbed through, never looking back. He pulled it closed, latching it for what he was certain would be the last time.
He listened at the outer door for a time, and then slowly pushed it open. There was no one. It was still dark outside, he was relieved. He would be able to return to Christine without being noticed. For surely there would be no early morning deliveries of any sort going on in the City until the streets were cleared and the snows melted.
He paused once more in they foyer. Allowing his mind to take in all that he saw. It was as if they had read his mind, some things were far too familiar, it was as if they'd found the plans…he paused…THE PLANS! He knew he should leave but he simply had to, if however briefly, he simply had to know if they had found them.
He would know…. He pulled his cloak tightly around his body. He made his way swiftly the auditorium. He knew immediately upon entrance, as there were shafts of moonlight floating in through the stained glass window high above the stage. He smiled, his chest welling with pride. They'd found them. He was shaking his head. He could scarcely believe he was seeing what his eyes beheld. Somehow, he'd authenticated the plans well enough, they'd thought them to be that of the original. He chuckled to himself, what foolish men. Had they looked, they'd have realized it had not been signed by drafter, it had been the one thing Erik had yet to do. He'd wanted to find a sample of the man's penmanship, but had not.
Erik turned to take it in. Yes, they had added additional seats…yes, yes, the additional balcony, very good…his eyes hungrily scanned each thing he'd had in his plan…it pleased him greatly…they'd completed them all! His heart swelled further. NOW, the Opera House was perfect. No doubt they'd find it to be true when first they would play a piece there. The acoustics would be ethereal. He exhaled, a profound pleasure indeed.
Now, he felt his mind wandering. Had they….he had to know. Slowly, stealthily, he moved out of the auditorium, and back to the staircase that led to the upper floors. If they'd followed his plans, the dormitories for the chorus girls would be found on the former props floor. It was dark, making traveling the decidedly altered surroundings a bit more complicated, though Erik managed
Soon he found himself on the floor he sought. He glanced left and right. Yes, there were new walls, he smiled. He traveled to the left, opening and closing doors with great delight. Yes, yes, they'd not missed a detail. Study rooms, private water closets, sleeping quarters. He moved to the end of the hall. He inhaled, looking up, he could tell that the rather sharp roofline had been altered. He opened the door, and there it was, the great room for the chorus girls. Fireplace and benches as well as a large bank of windows lay off to the left. A kitchen was settled in there. He went to the wall. Yes, the dumb-waiter was installed leading down to the kitchens far below. It was as he'd designed it.
He shook his head, a great smile of relief crossing his face. Surely the propriety of the young girls that would now re-grace the Opera House would be far more secure. They'd be fully separated from the often scurrilous men that occupied the dormitories below. Madame Giry would be ever so pleased when she returned to find it so. He moved to the window, looking out at the opulence of Paris. The sky was still dark, though a faint glimmer of pink grew on the horizon. In four hours time the sun would begin to rise. He smiled. He wondered how many young women would sit there with their morning tea taking in the beauty of the sun-rise…he hoped it would be a great many for years to come.
He moved back to the door, and down the hall to the other end of the floor. They had followed every step of the plan thus far, and he hoped that they had not been remiss in providing for the ballet mistress. Truly he'd wanted this for Madame Giry, but now hoped it would be for the benefit of another. He reached the doors. Yes, it looked as he'd suggested, as a proper stoop for a home. Rather odd he knew for it being indoors, but he'd wanted her to feel as if she did have a proper home inside the Opera House, a place she and Meg could call their own.
He opened the door entering into what he was certain was the formal, though small foyer. His hands began to wander the walls. Yes, the busts were in place, yes the doors. He moved to the center of the room, yes the table was there. He lifted his arms above his head. Yes, the chandelier was there. He smiled. He turned and walked directly toward the very place the French doors should be, and yes, they were there.
Slowly opening them, it revealed a room bathed entirely in moonlight. He smiled, a tear growing in the corner of his eye. They had neglected nothing. He moved from place to place, taking note of the bedroom, the walk in closet, the private bath. It was all as it should have been. He returned to the room where the divans sat across from one another. He moved to the outer wall. He'd known, even when he was drafting the plans, that the veranda was a frivolous addition but he hoped still that they'd gone to the expense to complete this dwelling so befitting a woman who had given them so very much.
He paused at the large curtains. When he pushed them aside they would either reveal a set of windows below those that allowed in the moonlight, or a set of doors. He paused, and then ran his hand behind the fabric. He smiled as his hands met with a pair of door handles. He pushed back the fabric and gazed out the glass panes of the doors. His eyes took in the beauty of the veranda, the opulence of the statues that graced it. It was even a bit larger than he had hoped, making him smile further. He'd had to allow them a few liberties for deviation.
He pushed the doors open and walked out into the frosty air, moving to the edge of the balcony, taking in the view of Paris. Yes….it was befitting the woman.
His smile slowly changing…turned down just slightly. How could he ask her to abandon all that she had worked for, now that she had what she had so very long deserved? It had been the passion of her life's work, and she would miss it so very much…it would be much akin to asking Erik to abandon music for the remainder of his days.
He closed his eyes. If Meg stayed in Paris, and married that boy, Madame Giry would be able to stay. Nadir, he supposed could visit, though it shan't be the same as being with the woman. Erik shook his head again at his own folly. There he was, finding himself thinking he could control events that were not his to control. He'd have to learn to let nature take care of itself. It was their choices, their decisions to make, not his.
He glanced once more over the balcony and then went back in, latching the doors closed tightly. He made his way out of the rooms, taking in one final time the details that had not been missed. Erik paused in the foyer. He walked over to the bust of Beethoven, lifting it he felt about for the crevice that would be inside. He smiled, yes it was there. He reached inside of the bag he'd brought with him from the cellars. He tucked a tidy sum inside, replacing the bust once more. Just in case, he thought to himself.
He went back out into the hall. He'd checked those things that were most important to him, he'd no need to check the remainder. They'd followed his details thus far, he'd no reason to doubt that they'd finished each and every one.
He wanted nothing more than to return to Christine now. He made his way swiftly, deftly down the stairs and to one of the many entrances at the back of the Opera House. One so overgrown with thicket that none used it but he. He would depart. His breath caught in his chest as he reached out for the handle. He could hear sound on the other side of the door. He pushed himself back into the shadows, putting his bag down at his side. He did not know who it might be, but he'd been in no mental state to encounter anyone. .
He waited, he could hear voices. He could only hope now that it would not be Nadir and Meg. Crawlings on their flank. Though at least he would be present from the first, able to intervene swiftly. He felt his hand run down his side to his sword. Slowly he pulled it from its sheath. The glimmer from the polished shank of it glinting in the sliver of light. He was ready, should it prove to be someone of ill intent.
Author's Notes:
Dear Faithfuls: Another long chapter….I hoped no one minded this much focus on Erik! I wanted his feeling to all be one connected moment. Yes, much more could have been written about all the feelings and thoughts that swirled through his heads as he put his lair back into some sort of semblance, but I alas, decided to give Erik a little bit of privacy since he already shares so very much with us! We can all imagine watching him put things back where they belonged, remaking Christine's bed, thinking about all the years he spent there….so, to that end, I hope that everyone was satisfied with the return to his former house…and thankfully….finding that neither Meg nor Nadir were there! Oh, and I could not help myself…Erik was far too curious about the rest of the Opera House, he merely wandered off to explore, quite without my permission! LOL!
PhantomsRogue: I feel tired for you my dear…96 cards! I can only imagine how long that takes to do! When I am done with my 30 something, I feel like I've been through quite an ordeal! Not a bad one, just one that requires a number of hours, and countless pots of tea and a plate or two of biscotti! I too bake Christmas cookies, usually about twenty different kinds. I have several large gatherings where I take cookies, and then of course the number of plates that are made for family and friends. Probably the one most requested thing I make, and make loads of it, is the English butter toffee. My aunt's recipe, and I must say, it is rather addictive. So, I will think of you while I start making mine next week. I always take Christmas cookies to work for my "birthday treat"…I've never quite figured out why the birthday person brings the treat….shouldn't it be the other way around? LOL! Ahh…it is fun anyway, and most definitely one of my favorite parts of the season. Nothing like baking cookies and making hundred year old candy recipes by candle light listening to 'Silent Night'….ohhh I get goose bumps just thinking about it! Just in case you are wondering…yes…I do have electricity…but I much prefer the candlelight to any artificial lighting….yet another reason everyone that knows me, knows I'd have been far better off living in eighteenth to nineteenth centuries! LOL!
Thank you for ignoring my rather inadvertent note error. I was so aghast when I realized what I'd done, I had to go out and immediately delete the chapter and replace it! It is a good thing everyone in our Phamily was very understanding! Yes, Nadir has proven to be most clever on a number of occasions, I am certain that this will be no different! LOL!
You are very perceptive my dear. The doctor does have a new-found admiration for Nicole, but considering he just met her, I don't know if a romance would be brewing…but one never can tell! LOL! Yet another thing that would drive our dear Erik quite mad…I think he was wanting to play match maker between Erphan and Nicole….Hmmm….
As for you last question dear sister…I shall answer you via e-mail.
Vous êtes trop doux ma chere soeur ! Avoir une nuit merveilleuse! (You are too sweet my dear sister! Have a wonderful night!)
Batterdchild: Thank you for sharing. I sort of had a hunch it was something like that, similar to how they celebrate in Hawaii. Since I do live in a place where there is snow during the holidays, I rather have grown to appreciate it. Something about sweating and singing about Jack Frost nipping at your nose, just seems counterintuitive. But truly, Christmas can be celebrated in whatever way makes you, and those you care about happy! So I am all for traditions, even if that means putting on a pair of red shorts and a green tank-top for the holidays!
Thank you for the compliment on Christine's dream sequence. I could just imagine her going through this in her mind as though she was floating along watching it all unfold. Whenever Erik is away from her, all she can do is find a way to get near him in her mind, and this dream I think says a great deal about what she feels she is missing by not being in Paris, and what her heart of hearts would ask for if given just one wish in all the world.
Have a wonderful evening, and do try to stay cool! I should give you my recipe for red and green slushies that we have every holiday. No, no alcohol, but they are extremely refreshing, and lots of fun when we sit around on Christmas afternoon after dinner and play chess and scrabble. Let me know if you are interested, I'd be happy to share it with you!
Poetzproblem: Thank you for your kind words on this most recent installment. I loved it myself, and could almost feel the happiness in the air of that room. Yes, DeChagny would no doubt be exceedingly proud, and if that scenario played out…can you imagine his delight? I think it might finally get him over that hump of worrying about what society thought of him….and to have heirs…yes….no doubt that would please him beyond words.
Have a great evening!
NordyGirl: So if art is your calling…what is your medium? Oil paints, water colors, precious metals, clay perhaps? I am intrigued my dear, and no doubt Erik would approve wholeheartedly! LOL!
Yes, dreams of our slumber, at least the happy ones, I think are our minds way of creating happy endings that might not otherwise be! Our heart longs for things that we would never allow our conscious mind to consider…but when we dream…..all rules are gone, and our mind can do whatever it chooses…..I don't know about you, but I've had many a dream where I woke to utter disappointment because reality was a much different place than the dream world! There all is possible, all is perfect…and your heart can find peace and happiness….even if but for a little while.
Another terrific selection on your part! Anything from 'Fiddler' always puts a smile on my face…..I'm a bit irritated, though it is rather catchy with the newest rendition (if you can call it that) of 'If I were a Rich Man'…..now morphed into 'If I were a rich girl…' something just seems wrong…..though perhaps kids who have never seen 'Fiddler' might now be interested…oh who am I kidding! LOL!
Have a great night dear N.G.!
SoaringSpirit27: I am glad you did enjoy this chapter. Truth be told, yes, a last minute revision did put that song into this chapter, and yes, it was in part because of the comments you made. It does happen from time to time, that something one of our Phamily members says does influence parts of the next chapters, but that is why I appreciate all of you so very much…and why I feel like we are all in this together! Your comment helped remember how important it is to interject, here and there, something from the original story. That music, that song in particular, will always be the quintessential of the expression of Erik's love for Christine. When first he was able to express to her his desire to embrace her as his own…but fully recognizing that she would have to give up all she had… "let your mind start to journey to a strange new world, leave all thoughts of the life you knew before.." He understood what he was asking her, and in one courageous moment, he dared to ask her. Ahhhh….yes…that is the essence of love.
I am happy that your memory bank was erased…lest it lead you to a story line that shall now be altered! I am blushing now…yes….I've had a few requests to have this published, though it would take some editing and revision to ever be ready for something like that….I have thought about it. Thank you for the encouragement.
Have a wonderful night!
PhantomFan13: Thank you for the compliment on the chapter. Yes, I think Christine was actually very pregnant in her dream, and what that means right now, I cannot say…though you are right, it would be a ways off.
You are right, Christine knows as much as Erik does about his parents…which is nothing at all. You are in good company…there are many Phamily members who are rooting for a reunion for the family…one just never can tell how these things happen.
Yes, the celebration back in Chauesser…preparations are even now underway for that event, though I am not at liberty to tell you just what yet. But it is, as you may recall, a big celebration for that City, one that they look forward to all year! Hmmmm….
Thank you once more for your kind words. I have promised myself not to go back to previous chapters and read them, lest I become discouraged at how poorly written the first of them were. It is good to hear though that they did improve with time!
Have a great night!
SilverWolf08: My dear…I could be mistaken, but did you review several months ago? If not, my apology, and welcome to the Phamily! We have certainly grown over time, and it warms my heart to know that there are others out there that share our vision of Erik and Christine finally being together! It is with much happiness that you have all been so very kind to allow me to share my dream of this story with you! Yes, Raoul, he wasn't a bad man…and frankly, I don't know why stories always have to end up with a winner and a loser…he deserved to be happy too…just not with Erik's Christine! LOL!
Now, as has become our tradition….we simply must know about your tag name. I am just guessing, but does 08 represent the year you graduate…and silver wolf…perhaps your mascot….or…..something else entirely? If you are so inclined, and don't mind sharing…your new Phamily would love to know! It is always so very interesting to find the origins…sometimes that are not at all what we expect!