Dear Faithfuls: Happy New Year to everyone in the Phamily! I will be updating again on Tuesday, January 3rd. Have a safe, happy, and wonderful new year holiday…wherever you are!
Raoul rolled over to his back. He'd barely lifted his head, and it was throbbing. He groaned. He was sweating profusely, a common side affect for him…when he had morphine. True, he'd only had a few times before, but he knew instinctively that he must be under its cloud or he'd not feel as dizzy nor as hot as he did just now.
He struggled to right himself, but quickly had a change of heart when his head began to pound the further he rose. He'd at least put himself on his back, giving his chest a chance to cool. He threw off his covers, opening his shirt, and then rolled to his back. It was reflex really that made him roll once more to his stomach. The pain of his swollen scalp had been severely irritated by the pressure of laying on it.
He tried to think through the fog of the drug…remember what happened. His hand slowly rising to investigate what caused his head such pain. His eyes grew wide when he found the patch of hair that had been shaved clean from his head. It was only hair he reassured himself, as his finger slowly moved over the tender parts. He could feel the stitches, and raised ridge of skin that puckered under the tension of the catgut.
He closed his eyes, and though sleep beckoned him, he tried to focus on what events had led up to this point. He opened his eyes once more, searching the room. He saw the doctor, sound asleep on the divan. His eyes searched further, hoping not to find Meg perched uncomfortably on a chair somewhere keeping vigil. Much to his relief, she was not there.
He glanced toward the window. He could see no light cast under the curtains, surely it was even now nightfall, and if that were so, he'd slept the entire day away. Though that would normally have disgusted him at his own laziness, his irritation with his own weakness was tempered by the fact that he was entirely glad to be alive. He closed his eyes once more.
He could see it vividly in his minds-eye. He had just walked out onto the veranda. No one had accompanied him, and he'd wanted to check on the carriage house. He recalled lifting his hand to his eyes, in order to shield them from the light of the fire, when he heard it; two gun shots. He remembered wanting to reach for his gun, but his own sense of self-preservation had taken over, and he'd thrown himself once more to the ground, and that was all he could remember until Nadir and the doctor were hovering over him in the study.
He vaguely remembered the stitches, and the syringe full of medicine the doctor had administered. He furrowed his brow. One more thing he'd remembered…he thought he'd seen him…seen him in the shadows… Raoul's heart began to pound. Had it been him, come back for him? Had depriving him of Christine not been enough? Had he come back yet to avenge the challenge that Raoul had offered him? But if that were so…where had he gone? Was Christine in danger, was she dead, was he there to return her, was he there….was he there at all, or had it been his morose imagination torturing him from the depths just when he'd thought to have found happiness with Meg? His conscience dragging at his soul for daring to find love again?
His head was throbbing even more now. He gasped. He tugged at his shirt, being careful not to lift his head too far, the pain was far too great when he did. Once removed, he took the shirt in his hand, dabbing at his forehead and chest. He lay there a long while feeling a great thirst, but knowing he could do little to relieve it. His eyes now searched the ceiling.
He found himself wondering why the house was so quiet, and if it were the middle of the night. That would indeed explain Meg's absence. After all, it had been at his behest that they not spend another night together, no matter the circumstances, until they were married. He now found himself wishing he'd never uttered the words, even though he knew he'd said them for all of the proper reasons. He'd want no shadow of doubt to be cast on Meg's suitability to marry beyond her class, even though that mattered little to him. It seemed to be an eternity he laid there before the doctor stirred, looking over at Raoul.
He was quickly on his feet, pushing on his spectacles. He could tell from a distance even in the dimly lit room that Raoul had stirred long enough to remove the covers and his shirt, now laying bare chest exposed to the cool air. The doctor walked quietly over to Raoul, in the event that he'd somehow managed to fall back to sleep. Once at his side he smiled at him. "Good evening young man."
Raoul tried to manage a polite smile, though there was no reason to put on airs with the Barron. "Do tell me, how many were required?" He looked at the doctor, blinking as he tried to focus.
The doctor chuckled. "Twenty-one, the same as Meg." He said as he came to rest on the side of the bed, drawing his stethoscope from his bag, resting it on Raoul's chest. "You've been asleep all day, and I dare say that is my fault." The doctor already knowing that Raoul would be lashing himself for not having accomplished at least something of some substance today.
Raoul looked at him, waiting until the doctor was finished with the instrument before he spoke. "Morphine?"
The doctor nodded. "It was all that I'd had with me, although Meg had offered her bottle of pills for your comfort." The doctor was removing some gauze and a bottle of iodine from his kit, motioning for Raoul to roll to his stomach.
"What hour is it now?" Raoul said as he carefully pulled himself over, the doctor reaching down lifting and pushing at his back to assist him.
The doctor drew his pocket watch, clicking the cover from the face to look. "Nearly five." He snapped the cover closed, slipping it back into his breast pocket. He began dabbing a bit of the iodine on a soft cloth.
Raoul nestled his face down into the pillow. "I am surprised there is no sunrise yet, there should be some hint of it." Raoul stopped, "ouch!"
"I am dreadfully sorry Raoul. The skin is rather irritated. Though I've put in as straight a row of stitches as I could, I dare say the gash was anything but straight." The doctor was dabbing at it with gauze.
"Morning? No, no…" he laughed, "it is evening, near the dinner hour just now. If the sun rises now, I'd say we are in a very serious way, and this gash is the least of our concerns!"
Raoul's mind was already racing. "Where is Meg?" If it were five, she'd neither be having dinner, for dinner in his house was always served promptly at seven. He scowled, perhaps she herself was not feeling well. The stitches had been removed, but perhaps she was uncomfortable or self-conscious.
The doctor hesitated. He'd never lied to Raoul in the entirety of his life. It did not mean however, that he could not omit a bit of the truth for the time being. "She, along with all other members of your household have been instructed to give you your undisturbed rest. I've assured them that I would see to taking care of you, until the morrow. By then you should be feeling well enough to sit up. For tonight however, you shan't be doing anything other than having a bit of supper, and medicine, and going back to sleep." He'd made his statement with an authoritative, if not fatherly tone. There would be no arguing the plan.
"Are all well? Meg, Madame Giry, Nadir?" Raoul inquired.
The doctor took note of the obvious absence of his father from the list of those he was interested in. "Yes, they are all well, and your father also sends you his regards. He was most worried for you Raoul." The doctor was washing a bit of warm water around the hair that surrounded the stitched gash, being careful not to get them wet. "Supper should be delivered soon Raoul, and I shall help you. I trust you've already tried to sit up?"
Raoul was nodding, indeed he had, and the room had begun spinning. "I shan't be trying that again just now." He said sincerely.
The doctor laughed a bit more. "See, it is for your own good that I've sent your family away just now. You don't want to be looking as you do when your future bride and mother-in-law come to visit now do you?"
Raoul smiled. Somewhere along the line the doctor had either guessed or been told of his intentions to propose to Meg. He looked at the doctor with curious eyes.
The doctor smiled at him, knowing full well what was running through Raoul's mind. "It was your grandmother's ring…I'd have recognized it anywhere." He smiled once more as he began putting his things back into his onyx satchel.
"You often forget that I've known you, nay, your family for a good many years Raoul, and you've confided in me a great many things. That ring was to be given only to your intended as a precursor to an ring of engagement." He nodded at Raoul, he'd not forgotten.
Raoul could do nothing but smile. He was grateful that if he'd had to be sequestered to his room for the night, that his doctor…his friend…would be there with him. He could only imagine the agony that Meg was going through not being able to visit. But she was obedient he was certain, for his sake, and that made him smile. No doubt Nadir and her mother were keeping her entertained at this very moment.
The doctor stretched, a bit of relief washing over him. Raoul was quite coherent. His reflexes were good, his pain manageable. All very good first steps. He'd allow Raoul to eat, and then they'd have a conversation. Perhaps the subject of the events on the veranda would present themselves naturally. If not, he'd make mention of them. He needed to be certain that Raoul was not confused about what he'd seen, or what he'd done. Still, of all of that, what concerned him most was how Raoul would deal with the knowledge that he'd taken the life of another. That, he feared, would be the greatest battle of all.
XXXXXXX
The ride back to the Inn was nearly as silent as the ride to the undertaker had been. Nicole's mother had not said a word when she'd come out of the room with the undertaker. He'd bid them all a good day, laying a hand on the woman's shoulders. "It shall be as you said my dear lady. Do rest now, you look weary." Nicole had wondered what her mother had requested that had caused such a comment, but she'd not ask. It would either be told to her by her mother, or would be made evident soon enough.
As they approached the Inn, her mother said, "we've need to return home now Nicole. No doubt the doctor has others to tend to, and the Innkeeper, no matter how generous and reassuring, shan't mind being able to sleep in his own quarters this evening." She'd been ignoring the doctor shaking his head, she'd not be talked out of it.
Nicole looked at the doctor. She knew her mother well enough that if she'd set her mind to something, it would not be altered unless God himself moved the earth. "Very well mother, we shall return home.."
The doctor interrupted. "I'd very much like, if you do not feel imposed upon, to spend the night on your couch. It seems that the Inn has no available rooms just yet, and my grandfather's house has not been suitably prepared to receive me."
He was looking at Nicole with a hopeful expression. Truly there was room in the stables behind the Inn, where the hansoms slept, but he'd not offer that as an option unless they were unwilling. He'd not want to let the woman out of his sight just now. She and Nicole had suffered through a great deal with the elements, and he'd want to keep a watchful eye on them, making certain that pneumonia didn't settle in the woman's chest. He'd a few remedies that he could administer, but timing was everything. He'd not want to administer them unless they were needed, some being rather unpleasant. But, he'd not want to lose time if symptoms developed. Even a few hours could make all the difference in recuperating fully…and death.
Nicole looked at her mother. She could see she was considering the alternatives.
Nicole's mother did not want to seem ungrateful, nor snobbish, and what little did it matter if a doctor slept on her couch, surely no one would think less of them considering the recent events. "Very well then, let the three of us gather our things and be off. I grow tired, and I'd like nothing more than a warm room, and my own bed."
The doctor smiled in relief. She'd not put up an argument. He could only hope she'd always be so compliant, though he knew in his heart, that that was very unlikely.
"Just a bit of supper and then we shall do as you ask." The doctor said, trying to employ a compassionate, yet stern tone to his voice.
She looked up at him scowling. Though she'd no appetite to speak of, and hungered only for rest, she knew that Nicole would be hungry, and so would the doctor. She could manage to push a few things around on a plate making it look as though she'd been eating, just to humor them. "Dinner then bed." She smiled slightly to herself, "the two of you no doubt can find something to talk about until you are tired enough for sleeping." She looked at Nicole. "You are feeling well enough to arrange a bed for the good doctor?"
Nicole nodded. "Not to worry mother, I shall take care of everything."
The glance exchanged between Nicole and her mother nearly made the doctor cry. The love never needed words, it was so very obvious as it floated through the air in their gaze.
XXXXXX
Erik had managed to bring Christine the full distance to the waters that led down to his former home. He'd shaken his head several times in disbelief. Little had he known that the work he had done the day before would have made their arrival much more pleasant. It had been an instinct then, and now he was grateful for it.
He'd found once more the large plank and pole, and carefully placed Christine in the middle of it. She'd never been a gondolier but she understood his simple instructions about slow steady movements and being careful to keep her weight evenly distributed, and what to do if the raft began to tip. It wasn't long and they'd found their way into the water. With no light to guide them, it seemed eerie and ominous. Erik sensed Christine's trepidation and began to hum.
"Sing for me angel…" Christine said in a breathless tone as she clung to Erik's back, he thrusting the pole into the water propelling them forward. It was a bit like deja vue. Erik chose carefully, a full repertoire of music to choose from…but he inhaled fully, and began.
"No one would listen, no one but her heard as the outcast hears. Shamed into solitude, shunned by the multitudes, I learned to listen, in the dark my heart heard music. I longed to teach the world, rise up and greet the world, no one would listen, I alone could hear the music. Then at last a voice in the gloom, seemed to cry I hear you, I hear your fears, your torment and your tears. She saw my loneliness, shared in my emptiness. No one would listen, no one but her heard as the outcast hears. No one would listen, no one but her, heard as the outcast hears."
Tears were streaming down Erik's face. He was back in his old haunt, the object of his affections now willingly embracing him…coddling their blended lives within her very womb. He couldn't help but feel the tug of melancholy on his heart. No, he no longer had to wear a mask, to hide his face because of hideousness…but part of him….a part that no one could see…was still that injured soul longing for acceptance. That he knew, might very well never be healed.
The rest of the way they were silent. Now she understood the words of the song that he'd sung back at the seamstress shop. He had been so bitterly lonely all those years…and he'd not wasted his life nor hidden by his own choice. He'd been rejected by the world, and no one but her had listened….no one but her had loved him…in the way that she did.
They reached the iron grid that formed the gate at the porticos. She shivered. She could quite easily transport herself back to the last time they'd come through that way. She'd been fleeing along with Erik as the Opera House burned down around them. She was fleeing into the arms of her angel, and fleeing from the man to whom she was betrothed. What if she'd not been strong enough to resist Raoul….or what if he'd physically barred her in some way from going with Erik, or worse yet, what if one of the snipers had….she closed her eyes. That what ifs did not matter. What mattered was what she now had her arms wrapped tightly around….her husband…her flesh and blood lover…to her…he was the Phantom no more. But one shred of unfinished business remained here before that persona could be laid to rest…forever.
Erik pushed on the lever, all manner of gate and curtain easily rising and retreating in the darkness. He'd allow the rising candelabras to light their arrival. From there he could go about lighting candles, setting a fire in the stove. As the metal frames screeched to life for the second time in a day, Erik was once again pleased that he'd tended to them. They rose like great fire-breathing dragons from the water, illuminating the cavern with peels of flames that flickered, dancing to life.
Christine watched it all unfolding in amazement as Erik pushed the make-shift raft the remainder of the way until it butted against the shore on the other side. Erik carefully bounded off in one leap, reaching out with his foot to steady the plank, allowing Christine to walk off gracefully without so much as one drop of water tainting her perfect dress. Instinct took over, Erik twirling his cape off of his shoulders in a flourish, tossing it to the very spot it had been hundreds, nay, thousands of times before.
"Erik, it is amazing, I'd have imagined it would have suffered greatly from the mobs…time…" Christine said as her eyes began scanning every corner that had light. She heard Erik chuckle.
"Christine. You can only imagine what I found when I came here hours ago. It was, as you said, in shambles," a hint of pain in his voice. "I'd tarried here, thinking myself to be early. When time passed and no one arrived, I began to straighten, to set things in order one last time." He grimaced as he too began scanning the cavern. It seemed so finite to him now…now that he lived out under the sky.
"I'd not thought we'd find ourselves in this place again." He said thoughtfully, somewhat mournfully. It surprised him how very at odds he felt. Though his new life contained far more promise, far more happiness…he could barely imagine never beholding this place again. It had been home to the birth of nearly everything that had been important to him in his life; his music, his education, his very love and adoration for Christine. He shook his head. He'd interrupted his own thoughts, and even now Christine was staring at him in wonder as to what preoccupied him so.
"It was a prudent choice," he paused, his eyebrows raising, blinking…slowly pulling himself from deep thought. "Coming here," he clarified, "it was prudent as we are nearly assured of utter privacy here. We've great need to be able to speak freely tonight. For it might very well be the last time…." For Christine's sake, he could not bring himself to say it.
Christine ran her hand along his forearm as she walked passed him. She understood his pain; distraction would be his only relief. "Erik? Where is it…the room that you spoke of…the coffin?" She said with genuine interest in her tone.
Erik grimaced once more. "Christine, I do not find that to be wise for a lady in your condition…" his words cut short by her stare. If he'd not show it to her himself, she'd go looking for it.
"Very well then, I suppose you should know where it is so when I die you've a place to put me." He was trying to make light of it.
Christine caught his arm turning him around to look most seriously in his eyes. "Do not speak of such things….this…" she waved her hand in front of her motioning to all of the cavern, "was the realm of the Phantom." She reached up, pulling his face close enough to kiss. "That is no longer you my love…you are Erik the man, the father, the friend, the lover..." She ran her hand up along his chest, until it came to rest on Erik's cheek.
"When we at last leave this place…this kingdom….we shan't ever return. Our business with this life will be finished…we've but a few last things to tend to here my love, and then it shall be over forevermore."
Erik found himself once more mesmerized by this woman. He thought he might have agreed to nearly anything in that moment she was so enchanting. Then his eyebrow flickered. "What things do you speak of my love?"
Christine ran her hand over his chest once more, wetting her lips before she responded. She placed a tender kiss on Erik's lips, and one on his neck. "Just a few things my love…but not now….later…" She wandered ahead of him to look for the room he was trying to avoid, looking over her shoulder smiling at him.
Erik's heart was pounding. For such a young woman, with no experience in the world in the art of seduction, she'd somehow managed to possess a natural talent for it. Erik wasn't altogether certain he could move to follow her. He closed his eyes, inhaling, trying to regain his composure. He watched as she seemingly glided across the smooth stone floor toward the tiny room that contained his coffin.
He couldn't remember exactly how it happened but in two large leaps he'd had her in his arms again, carrying her off toward the room…not the one she'd sought just now…but the room with the swan…the one where he'd first taken her…where he'd hoped one day very long ago, that they'd have been able share in their love.
Christine was madly running her arms around Erik's neck. His face buried beneath her curls as she wrapped herself around him. He walked into the room, it was dark and cold, entirely unsuitable for a moment such as this…
Erik sat Christine down on the edge of the bed, attempting to pull away from her to light the candles behind the bed. She reached out for him, pulling him to her once more.
"Erik…please…" she wrapped her arms around his neck, sliding herself back onto the bed, pulling him down into her arms. He could no longer control, nor did he have want to, what was happening. Christine kissed him passionately, whispering in his ear. "I love you my Phantom…my angel…love you truly." She breathed into his ear, "…take me for I am already yours."
Erik closed his eyes breathing in the very essence of Christine. It was what he had longed for all those years…to have her there…in that very room. As flesh began to give way to desire Erik jerked his face away from Christine, leaning his ear toward the entry to the room. Yes, he heard it.
"Hello…."
Christine sat up…her heart racing as much from the sound of the voice as the expectant anticipation of sharing her love with her husband in that place….the last detail of business the Phantom had left there.
Erik rose, extending his hand, pulling Christine to her feet. He looked down at her, the passion still fresh on his lips; his chest still pounding. He leaned down kissing her as though they were saying goodbye forever. They parted lips, looking deeply into one another's eyes. Their business in this place was yet unfinished…but they'd a visit to have, and friends were coming….the dearest of friends.
Erik took Christine by the hand, moving into the outer room, "hello" he called. Christine echoed him, "hello!" They could hear excited conversation, coming toward them on the water. They raced to the water's edge as the small boat careened around the opening into full view. Christine's heart leapt. "MEG!" she nearly screamed.
"Christine!" Meg practically toppled herself in the boat. At last, at long last…they were together.