Christine ambled into the room, letting the heavy velvet curtain tumble down out of her hand behind her. The room was warm, and though she was comfortable, there was something that tugged at her mind, though nothing she could put her finger on. She missed him…missed him dreadfully. She perched lightly on the edge of the divan, trying to be as quiet as she could manage, the tears began rolling down her cheeks. Her lashes grew heavy with droplets of saline that clung to her lashes, glistening in the illumination of the flickering flames.
She held her hand over her stomach, rubbing it unconsciously back and forth. Somehow she could sense that he was safe, but something tugged at her heart, like a sad child pulling at the apron strings of her mother. Staring up at the ceiling, her eyes roaming it from one detail to the next. It too was all part of this man's profoundly complicated past. She sighed. So very much she didn't know of his life; so very much she would likely never know, and she'd have to be satisfied with that which she did.
Her mind wandered to Erik's travels to the Opera Populaire. She could only imagine how very difficult it would be for him to simply be back inside of the Opera House. His life had changed so dramatically these last months. So many memories remained there; and yet so many new ones were being made every day. So many things had changed, altered forever the world that Erik now lived in. It was as if the very heavens and earth had shifted ever so slightly making room for him in them in his new persona. Christine had worried so for Nadir and Meg, she hadn't thought of the cost to Erik's mind, his soul…for surely it had to be difficult indeed, no matter how strong he was.
Standing once more she walked around the room, running her hand carefully along the silken scarves that covered the walls. Some were thick satin, others still were thinner, but provided no less color nor refinement to the surfaces they adorned. She paused, looking into the sculpted eyes of the cherub that sat on the pedestal in the corner just beyond the divan. She wondered how he'd procured such things, nay, for surely the woman had ordered them at his behest. But how had he known of such things? Surely the mind can craft what it will of its own volition, but even a creative mind needs some point of reference, some catalyst, something on which to expound. She'd never seen books of architecture, nor pictures of foreign lands in Madame Giry's collection. From what she herself knew, he'd come to live beneath the Opera House by way of rescue at the hand of Madame Giry who was a mere chorus girl herself. Somewhere along the line, Erik had learned of such things.
Christine smiled, walking farther still along the wall, looking at all the shades of purple, the hues of pink, the pale to midnight transitions of blue. "It must have taken him hour upon hour to arrange these." She said beneath her breath.
She came to rest in front of the very large mirror, staring at her reflection. Her hand stretched until it rested on the mirrored glass. The palm turned to touch the palm of the one in the reflection. It was as if she was connecting to her former self. She closed her eyes.
His voice danced inside her mind. She was a young innocent all over again. All those hours she sat in front of that mirror in the dressing room at the Opera Populaire, dreaming one day of being a Diva. She wondered how many hours he'd stood on the other side just watching her, for no other reason than listening to her as she'd talk to him, sometimes for hours. The corners of her lips twinged, a fleeting smile gracing it for but a few seconds. He'd been so very patient with her.
She inhaled, running her hands along her neck, sweeping up her chocolate brown tendrils into a large bundle, nearly so thick she could hardly contain it with the both of her hands. She slipped a ribbon around it, tying a loose bow. She was warm, very warm indeed. She opened her eyes, looking once more into the mirror, resting her hand on the pane yet again.
"Where are you my angel?" She said, her soul crying out its pitiful want in her simple words. In a response she would recant some time later as having be audible, she heard his powerful voice, and could nearly make out the haunting reflection from months passed… "Look at yourself in the mirror, I am there inside…"
Her breath caught in her chest. His music was raging once more in her mind. She'd remember that moment, that precise moment until her dying breath. With what wonder she'd beheld his flesh for the very first time. He had been even more magnificent, masculine, striking….than she could have ever imagined. Yes, though she'd noticed with nothing more than a casual glance that he'd worn a mask, it was the sheer embodiment, the deepest desires of her soul, the longings of her heart come true. He was a man of flesh and bone! The very fact that she could reach out and touch, embrace, love, that which she'd adored with such fervor, was nearly more than she could take in at that very moment. Oh how he'd looked at her with such pleading eyes. It was not until now that she'd understood it was because he was so afraid, so very afraid of being rejected. Oh how that caused her to love him, want him, need him all the more. The separation was too trying for her, yes, far too trying.
Christine lowered her hand from the mirror, returning to the divan. She reclined, pulling the covers over her once more. She could do nothing but wait. Yet she grew impatient. She could hear Erik's voice in her head, just as she had so many other times in the years she had known him… "rest child, I am with you." Her hand lingering over her abdomen…indeed, part of him truly was.
XXXXXX
The horse beneath him moved decidedly slower than what he'd have preferred, but he'd no intentions of punishing the beast by forcing the issue. No doubt he'd not been ridden in months and now to have made the trip back and forth from Paris so many times in one night, well, he'd done far better than what Erik had expected. The odd grotto that he'd found now behind him, he left the feelings of uncertainty, and the tears that he'd spilled on the earth there. This had been an incident, like so many others in his life, that he'd wished to forget. But unlike those times before, he could not ride away from what had happened, never to return. No, this set of circumstances would most certainly set in motion events that would alter not only him, but the lives of all those he loved. As he rode, he wondered about the grotto. There was little doubt that someone had treated it with loving hands, a sanctuary, however in the oddest place.
He'd let his thoughts wander as he rode back to the City. He'd so very much that he needed to tell Christine. He'd still not told her of the goings on in Chauesser the days before. The death of the woman, what had transpired with the citizens of Chauesser. He'd set in his mind to ask Christine to leave the City, though he knew she'd not understand why, he'd hope that she would acquiesce.
He wanted to take her back to Courtland Manor where he could properly tend to her without all the prying eyes, without all of the distractions that had taken him away from her time after time, though he'd vowed he'd be at her side. So much had fallen in between them, preventing him from doting on her the way his heart desired, nay, his soul demanded. She needed encouragement, assurance, that she would grow old, having raised their children. He needed to let her know that he loved her…loved her beyond all reason, and was committed to being at her side every step of the journey to motherhood.
He too wanted to relish the experience with her. He'd never dared think he would one day be a father….to be able to love, to teach, to nurture tender souls from their first breath. He'd already missed the first months of her pregnancy; he'd no desire to miss even one more day of it. For surely the miracle of life would not be lost on him. The very creation of a life was a wondrous mystery. One he intended to share with her each and every day until they held their children in their arms.
The horse shifted, nearly toppling Erik to the ground. The poor beast was no doubt tired, and hungry, though he obeyed his master without issue. Though he'd want nothing of it, his mind could not but wander back to the boy who was surely dead in the woods behind Raoul's house. Had he no mother that had loved him? Had vengeance been his only reason for living? How had a man so young become so corrupt, so embittered that he'd thought life provided him no other choice? Though Erik knew he'd done the only thing he could do, he felt guilt for having deprived the boy of his life. It was a great loss when one had to die simply because of their deeds, but oft there was little alternative, and this had been one of those times.
Erik sighed as he rose over the last hill. The lights of the City shown brightly, and he could see the bell tower in the distance. The sky was barely pink at the edges, and in just an hour's time, it would be fully light. He'd have to bring the horse with him to the seamstress shop, he'd not be able to return it now to the Opera House, lest he be discovered. No doubt the stables would be guarded after the horses were discovered missing, so the beast would likely be taken with him back to the winter house. He scowled, perhaps it would be best, the beast had only known servitude at the Opera House, and had spent years beneath the surface of the earth in his own service. It was only fitting he surmised, that now the horse have a pasture to graze in, fresh air to breath, and a life spent in a far better place. Erik's mind briefly wandering to the horse he was certain that would have delivered by now back at Courtland Manor. He was excited to see the young foal. If it were anything like its mother, he would be exceedingly pleased.
Erik rode down the hill. Though they were not visible, Erik knew that below him now the dirt paths would have given way to the cobble-stone streets at the edges of Paris. It wouldn't be long and he would be at Christine's side…oh how his heart leapt for joy at the thought of it. His brow furrowing once more. He'd much to tell her, and he'd have need to arrange a messenger to deliver a note to Nadir. The note would have to be clever. Something, some note that Nadir would know was from him, but would give Raoul no cause for concern. It would be done within the next few hours. Once it were dusk again, they'd be on their way back to the winter house. It was a fine plan.
XXXX
Madame Giry stood at her door, glancing down at Meg's. She remembered the doctor's words. Meg needed to recline, her cheek attended to. There was a sense of calm in her that the Crawlings boy was very likely far from there. She was proud of Raoul for having taken swift action to remedy the situation with the wolves. Soon Madame Giry's hand laid on the door to Meg's room. She'd not tell Meg of Raoul's injury, having fallen on the veranda. It would only worry her. Raoul could tell her on the morrow, when he was able.
Going in she found Meg, just as the doctor had told her. Sound asleep, propped up in the corner of the divan. She nearly hated to disturb her…she looked so peaceful, but she knew she must. She smiled, closing the door behind her.
XXXXX
Nadir left the doctor tending to the last of the treatment for Raoul. He'd want to be particularly certain that the stitches were tightly enough in place, and that the blood had started to clot before he'd be satisfied.
Quietly Nadir made his way down the short hall to the door leading out on the veranda. As far as he could see, there were none on the stoop, nor anyone out in the yard. He opened and closed the door behind him with nary a sound. His eyes scanned the buildings, the woods, everything that was within eye shot. His mind recalling signals from long passed, he stretched his arms high above his head as if stretching, leaning over to the left and then the right, and then the left once more, his finger pointed in that direction. If Erik were still out there, he would recognize Nadir's signal and meet him off in the darkness on the left side of the house. Nadir repeated the process three times, and then sighed. He'd no indication of Erik's presence, for the sound of a hooting owl was not heard, that would have been Erik's response….nay, Erik was no longer there.
Nadir's eyes began to search the veranda. He had great hope that he'd find Raoul's gun before any other, being able to check the chamber, removing the bullet if one were still there. He searched and searched, his heart beginning to sink, as his hopes of finding it dwindled. However would it be explained if his gun had been found, not even one bullet missing from the chamber? No, the story would be impossible to manage, for certainly that fact would be uncovered, especially if Raoul continued in his protestations.
Nadir dropped on his hands and knees and began to search all around the area where Raoul had been found. He'd been doing so for twenty minutes time or more, when his hand happened upon a lump in the snow. He breathed a sigh of relief, it was there. He quickly tucked it under his cloak, moving once more into the shadows. He lifted the gun into his hands making swift work of removing the bullet. From the outside Nadir appeared to be doing nothing more than standing outside taking in a breath of night air. The goings on beneath his cloak were a mystery to any on looker. It took Nadir less than a minute to do what he needed, and then he walked back over to where he'd found the gun. He lowered it to the ground, kicking a bit of snow over it just as he'd found it. He sighed, the sweat on his brow from the anxiousness he felt began to cool. Oh how he hoped he'd hear from Erik before the sun rose, though he doubted that he would.
Nadir made his way back to the door leading into the house. Just as he reached for the handle, the door opened. It was the doctor. Nadir's breath caught, hoping he'd not been observed. "Doctor?" he said with a bit of nervous hesitation.
"I've need for a bit of fresh air, as no doubt you've already done." The doctor smiled, walking out onto the veranda closing the door behind him. An obvious cue that he wished for Nadir to stay with him.
The doctor was scanning the yard. Blood spotted in various places, though not of man. He glanced down at his boots, as the frost from his exhalations rose from him. He tilted his head back staring up into the waning night sky.
"Nadir, I am afraid for Raoul."
Nadir cocked his head to the side, "whatever for? The present threat of the Crawlings boy is now passed. He's no need to leave here now, nor worry the women. He can rest now, recuperate as you'd like him to." Nadir said, looking over at the fire.
"This is true, the present threat is now passed. That is not my worry. You see Nadir, Raoul has a great sensitivity to death." The doctor's eyebrows now raising and lowering as he recalled events. "He has struggled with it since the time of his own mother's death. You see he shan't care for the thought of a human life being wasted, even for self preservation. Yes, I suppose if it were in defense of someone he loved, he'd deal much better with it, but in defense of himself?"
The doctor was shaking his head. Glancing over at Nadir. He'd a sense he could trust this man with a secret. "Nadir, what I am about to share with you, you must swear you shan't tell a single soul, nor let Raoul know that I've shared it with you, as he would be most uncomfortable." The doctor looked at Nadir for affirmation.
Nadir nodded, "do feel that your confidences will be well protected my friend."
The doctor smiled, and continued. "You see, Raoul is well trained in the art of fencing, and though he knows how to strike a killing blow, he feels most uncomfortable in the knowledge that his skill would allow him to deprive another of their life. He rather enjoys the activity, but for the sport of it, not the ability to use it as a weapon."
The doctor shifted his weight to his other leg. All the hunching had made him rather stiff. He stretched just slightly and then continued. "You see Nadir, Raoul confessed to me of an event that not another soul, save Christine, knew of. It is something that he to this very day tortures himself with. As he recanted it to me, there was an event, some many weeks before Christine went missing, where she had been taken by carriage to her father's grave in the dead of night. Raoul had sat guard outside of her room, in his own way offering protection for her innocence. He had feared that the Phantom would return wisking her away into the darkness."
Nadir sat listening intently. His eyes still scanning the grounds.
"Raoul told me of waking to find Christine absent from her bed. He'd gone in fervor to the window only to see Christine riding away in a carriage. Now, he'd not be certain what she'd venture out to do at that hour, but he'd a sense that it shan't be good, for a proper young lady, especially one betrothed to a Vicomte, would not find herself alone at that time of night. He thought that perhaps that she'd simply decided to runaway from the City."
He paused, stretching once more. "It wasn't until he arrived in the stable that he found the hansom on the ground just rising, having been struck unconscious. It was then that he learned that the carriage had been taken by someone else. He'd mounted his steed and pursued them all the way to the cemetery where the handsom stated that the young woman had requested to be taken. Once arrived, he found Christine nearly in the clutches of the Phantom. He intervened and a sword fight ensued. It was quite long from what Raoul told me, but in the end, he'd had the monster on the ground, his sword directly above the heart. He hesitated, not certain, even then, if he could do it."
Nadir's breath had caught in his throat. In all the years he'd known Erik, he'd never known him to lose even one dual, not one.
The doctor rubbed at his forehead. "Even in that distressed state, knowing what the stakes were, Raoul had hesitated. If it had not been for Christine's protestations, he is not entirely certain that he'd not have let him live anyway."
Nadir blinked, what had he said?
"You see Nadir, Raoul values the sanctity of life, in a way much similar to me, though I think I should be able to do what is necessary if I'd feel threatened. Raoul chose, in that moment, he chose to allow the Phantom to go free." The doctor rubbed at his chin. "He's battered himself for it a hundred times over, for he is certain if he'd taken the steps necessary, his life would be very much different now, and Christine would even now be preparing to be his wife."
Nadir swallowed hard. How could this have come to pass? Erik would not have handled this well. Had he allowed himself to fall so that Raoul would put him out of his misery….end his torture of wanting a woman he thought he would never possess? Nadir knew not. He looked at the doctor. "So why now do you feel compelled to share this with me sir?"
The doctor looked at Nadir. "That is why I believe Raoul Nadir. I don't think he could have shot the boy. If he could not fell the man, nay the very beast that threatened his every happiness with Christine, how could he kill a mere boy? I think it impossible sir."
Nadir felt a sweat growing under his cravat. He'd need everyone to be convinced that Raoul had done what it appeared he had. For any question, would make others wonder who had done so. No, there had to be some way to resolve this. Inside he breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps having removed the bullet would be proof enough. Yes, he would let someone else discover the gun. That evidence would remove doubt from even the most reticent mind.
"Doctor, I am quite certain that what you say is true. It might very well be that Raoul did so knowing that he and Meg would never be free, and he would not make the same mistake twice." Nadir hoped beyond hope to plant a seed of doubt in the doctor's mind.
The doctor sighed, "perhaps Nadir, perhaps." He looked out at the fire and the yard once more. "You best go in Nadir, do get some rest. I've need to go to the carriage house. If the boy is dead, then I shall have a bit of work to do." He nodded, not even looking back at Nadir as he stepped off the veranda and made his way to the carriage house.
Nadir watched the man walk across the yard. It would be a welcome rest. He would wait to hear from Erik. If he knew anything of the man, he knew he would keep his word. His thoughts quickly switching to Madame Giry as he made his way back into the house. He'd hope that she was not yet asleep. The hall that joined their two rooms would be of use to the pair this night, as he'd have much to share with her. If Erik was back in Paris, there was good reason, and he'd want to discuss it with her.
Author's Note:
Dear Faithfuls: I will be away next Monday, hence there will be no update that day! I promise to make Tuesday worth the wait! Thank you for your understanding!