Chapter 188 Scent

Dear Faithfuls: Just a note that there will once again be no update until Tuesday, January 17th. Thank you for your patience, with my demanding schedule! Have a great weekend.

Erik closed the door behind them. Christine stood, stretching trying to straighten her back, having walked a great distance through the City of Paris, hunched as an old woman whose back was bent with age. Erik leaned against the wood of the door, a great cough rising out of his chest.

Christine temporarily forgetting her own pain, went to Erik, reaching up undoing his cloak, removing it from his shoulders. He'd opened his mouth as if to speak, but Christine brushed across his lips with her index finger to quiet him. "It's off to bed with you my love. I shan't be taking no for an answer so no argument need be made. You've a terrible cold settling in your chest dear husband, and I would be remiss as your wife if I'd not see to nursing you." She turned to hang his cloak on the hook inside the service entrance.

Erik felt warm, oh so terribly warm. Perhaps a few hours rest would do him good. How could one argue with the imploring of an angel? He stood, back leaned against the door, just watching her. Each graceful movement as mundane as hanging a cloak, but as enamoring as anything one could possibly do, as it was an act of love.

Christine turned, smiling warmly, realizing with great compassion that his eyes had never left her. She returned to his side, wrapping her arms about his waist, nestling her head into his chest…his arms instinctively coming to rest on her back. He leaned over to kiss the crown of her head.

"Do you think Erik, that there will ever be a time that I shall look upon you that I do not want for your flesh?" She blushed, though she did not look away. "Even now," she reached out dabbing at the sweat on his brow, "as tired and ill as you are, you remain the most handsome man I have ever known." She smiled at him sincerely, in her heart knowing she meant every word.

Erik's forehead had begun to burn. Though he did not feel well enough to respond to her obvious advances properly, his heart swelled at the mere thought of her wanting him. "Christine, oh my dear sweet Christine…" his hands moved up her back until they came to rest on either side of her face. He leaned down kissing her tenderly.

Christine returned his affections, then slowly, tenderly, she pulled away, slipping her hand into his. "My dearest Erik, you shall rest now. When you are feeling well again, and we at last find ourselves once more in our own home," she looked up into his eyes, telling him without words that she was not rejecting his advances, merely delaying them, "we shall see to that glimmer in your eye." She stretched, kissing him affectionately on his jaw. She took his hand, turning to lead him back to the dressing room-turned bedroom, they'd shared just hours before. She'd taken no more than three or four steps when Erik spun her around on her heels, taking her up fully into his arms, running his arms behind her back, nestling his face into the small of her neck, placing tender kisses up slowly along her neck, rounding her jaw until his lips took hers fully into his. They stood there, Christine nearly breathless with desire under the intent spell of the man she loved.

Erik slowly released his kiss, tenderly leaning in for several more before he swallowed her into the depth of his chest, wrapping his arms firmly around her. "I shall wait…if you shall promise…" he said in a teasing manner, taking her chin into one of his hands.

Christine shuddered, oh how she could think of nothing else but the touch of his hands on her flesh. She looked up at him with serious eyes, "I promised you the night you took me as your wife Erik, I am yours and yours forever, I no longer have right," she stretched up once more placing a dewy kiss on his lips, "nor want to ever refuse you." She took his face into her hands. "That does not mean that I do not want for you to be rested and well first!" She rubbed her hand across his chest. "You've a cold returning with a vengeance my dear, and I shall not be one to further strain a body so in need of rest." She reached her hand up, wiping the sweat that was beading on his forehead. "Now, off to bed with you my dear, a few hours rest, a proper lunch, and we shall pay our respects." She took Erik's hand; this time she did not look back when he hesitated, she simply pulled him along.

Erik's attentions were certainly elsewhere when he was led as a child off to bed for a nap. Though he had to admit, the act of being cared for and loved was not all that unpleasant! In truth he knew that he needed the rest if he were to have the energy for the return to the winter house. Oh how he longed for the quiet, settled, comfort of his home. Yes, they'd be heading to Courtland Manor, but a few days rest at the winter house would do him good. Tarrying in bed with Christine at his side should be all the medicine he would need.

Christine led him off to the room, smiling as she entered. Someone had no doubt anticipated their arrival, a warm fire was already starting to glow in the hearth. She slowly, tenderly removed Erik's garments, taking particular note that his shirt was nearly soaked in sweat. Erik shuddered when the cool air hit his skin. He started to cough, a deep throaty cough. She slid a nightshirt over his shoulders as he sat on the divan. Christine placed a tender kiss on his forehead, leaning down to lift his legs onto the length of the cushion. Erik reclined without protest. Christine smiled as she brought the covers up under his chin, pushing the hair from his brow, placing another kiss on his cheek. "Rest now my love. I'll bring you some tea."

Erik looked up, moving his lips as if to form a word. Christine leaned down touching her finger lightly to them. "Shhhh now, you must rest….shhhh." She slid her hand over each eye, pulling its lid to cover the beautiful deep irises, sealing each one with a gentle flutter from her lips. "Sleep my love," she whispered in his ear, placing one last kiss behind his ear just along the corner of his jaw.

Erik smiled, her love for him was still truly a wonder. He lifted the lapel of the nightshirt Christine had slipped on him. He inhaled deeply and smiled. It had likely been the very one that she had worn the nights ago when he was away, and yet it still contained her scent. He smiled again as he felt the tugging of sleep calling him…there was nothing like the scent of the woman you love.

Christine sat in the chair in the corner of the room for a few minutes, watching as the fire began to grow bit by bit. She'd hung Erik's shirt by the hearth, and his cloak she'd spread out in front for it to dry. Glancing over at Erik she marveled at the sheer handsomeness of his sleeping form. If she squinted her eyes, she could see Erik as a much older man, and it warmed her heart thinking of spending an entire lifetime loving him. She leaned her head back closing her eyes, a pleasant smile crossing her face. Yes, there was much to do, and yes there was so very much to think about, but if one spent their entire life wrapped up in worrying, they could never embrace the simple pleasures of the moment. There had been a great many happy things. She ran her hand across her stomach, and just for now…she would relish those.

XXXX

The woman was sound asleep. Her back leaned nearly straight as a stiff branch snapped clean from a tree. Erphan smiled as he crossed the room, looking at all the neatly wrapped bundles tied in soft white cloth with thick black ribbons. The woman had been up until all hours putting the finishing touches on several of the garments that Erik had requested of her. True, they had been rather simple, affixed with ready-made lace pieces she'd picked up that afternoon at his behest. There was hardly time for her to have made the garments themselves without the additional work of the lace. Erik knew well that the woman prided herself in the beautiful decorative work that so many of her clientele demanded. For these house garments, he'd was not interested, nor would Christine be in having something so elegant that it couldn't be worn every day. Erphan looked down, as he passed the last one. That one was different than the rest. It was considerably smaller than the others, and it was wrapped in yellow silk, and tied with ribbons of pink and blue. He wondered at it. Perhaps it was for someone else.

Once reaching the woman's side, he gently shook her shoulder. "Dear lady…dear lady," he was trying to be gentle, knowing how little he himself appreciated being woken from a sound slumber, though he was entirely certain she'd not be as cantankerous as he. "Dear lady," he shook her shoulder once more before she'd opened her eyes. He thought to himself in that moment how very odd it was…though her eyes had no sight, they still had want to open when she was awake…perhaps it was an involuntary reflex, much like breathing.

She sat up straight, realizing herself to have fallen asleep. "Have they returned then?" She was smacking her lips, sorely in need of a good cup of tea.

Erphan lifted her hand, putting a glass in it. She smiled, it was warm and it was distinctly fragranced with cinnamon. "I see you've found the cider young master!" She chuckled a bit, taking in a long sip.

Erphan was speaking softly as he replied. "Yes, I'd been watching, and I'd seen them from a distance," he smiled at the woman as she paused in her drinking as if to remind him. "Yes," he said reassuring her, "I'd seen to the fire as you'd instructed, giving it the final tinder before they arrived."

"Very well young man, very well done indeed." She extended the glass of cider to him, motioning for him to find a place to sit it. "I'd very much then, like a chance to give them these." She was walking toward the ribbon-adorned bundles.

Erphan reached out his hand placing it on her shoulder. "Madame, the man and his wife have taken to bed. It seems he's a bit of a cold brewing, his wife was rather adamant about seeing him off to rest. She herself did not appear well, she hunched as if her back pained her somehow. When I peeked into the room, planning to offer more wood for the fire, I found both sound asleep, he on the divan, she in the chair. I'm sure they've but need for a few hours before you enjoy a visit." He paused, never having been so bold with someone who was his elder. "Perhaps you could benefit from a few hours rest yourself. You've been up toiling all night over these garments."

He looked down and though the woman's hands were calloused, he could see that they were red and swollen, and he had pity on her. His mind wandering to the small bottle of scotch he'd tucked in the basket. "Perhaps a nip would do you well to relax.'

The woman's eyes lit up, it had been a long while since a drink had been offered her. She smacked her lips, "perhaps a wee one."

She listened as Erphan walked over to the door and went out. She rose, running her hand over each bundle. "Lavender to match her personality, daffodil to match the light in her smile, amber to match the glow of her eyes, and blue…a lovely morning lark blue…just because." She mumbled to herself. They were simple dresses really, allowing for comfort and an expanding middle when it was needed. She'd affixed lovely ribbons that could be let out on the sides.

The last bundle, the one with double ribbons….that he had not asked for. This was her gift to the couple, a congratulations if you will, for the joy that would soon grace them. They were small nightgowns of the palest yellow. A trio of them for the blessing that she prayed that the children would be to the young family. She smiled wearily, she'd have been to bed an hour ago if she'd not determined herself to finish them. Something in her heart told her that she shan't be seeing them until the babes were in arms.

Her head turned as she heard Erphan come back into the room, the clinking of the glasses told her he'd brought two…he'd intended to join her. She smiled, reaching out her hand after she'd heard him pour them.

"To good health," Erphan said raising the glasses, putting one in her hand, clinking the side of his against hers.

"Indeed young master, indeed." She said smiling then wincing as she took her first sip. It made her shudder…the burn coursing through her…in a good way.

XXXXX

Raoul twitched awake with a startle. His head pounded ferociously. He put his hand up to the back of it, touching it and pulling it away to look at his fingers. The bleeding had ceased for his fingers were clean. The pressure from the tightly wrapped make-shift bandage had sufficed in the absence of medical attention. He rubbed his hand over his face, yawning. He was tired, but he'd not even need to open his eyes before he remembered where he was.

The air around him was warm, and it took no time to realize that someone, no doubt Claude, had covered him with something to keep him warm. Slowly, painfully, he opened his eyes, blinking heavily. Though he'd had no drug in recent hours, the groggy affects had yet to leave him, he felt like a man deprived of a hundred days' rest! Looking across the room he saw Claude had found himself a spot directly in front of the fire. His sodden clothes no doubt had given him additional chill, and he'd had to do something to keep himself warm.

Raoul leaned his head back against the surface his back had rested upon. He glanced once more at the words on the uneven surface above him. They were meant to be warning to any who ventured there…but he no longer feared that the Phantom still lurked. If he had, he'd no doubt he'd have made his presence known by now. Looking up once again, he studied the words with his eyes. They were meant as a warning, but to whom, for what good purpose? How many men would have lived to tell of ever having seen it? It made one take pause he thought, how many people had ever been there, would even know that it was here? He did not fear it now, though he'd had to admit it had made him ill-at-ease at first.

His mind drifted back to the night in the yard when he was certain he'd seen that cloak, that form. What would have drawn the beast to his house? Had he been frightened away by the boy or the ensuing commotion? Raoul shook his head. Why would he have dared travel there with great peril to himself should he be found. Raoul closed his eyes. No, he did not trust that beast, not for one sliver of moment, but something had drawn him there…to Raoul's.

He sighed heavily. All manner of outlandish thought had traveled his brain as to the origins of the killing strike on Crawlings. He knew, with near absolute certainty, that he'd not fired a shot…how could one forget such a thing? He knew he'd made a decision to avoid the encounter, flinging himself carelessly to the ground causing the gash that now caused him such pain. What other thought could be plausible? It was quite clear in his recollection…he'd fired no shot. The mystery remained…there was no others in the yard, no others, save he, the boy, and the beast.

Raoul lifted his head from the surface. Whilst it no longer bled, it hurt all the more, even with light touch against it. Perhaps the next days he'd be relegated to keeping his head hunched forward like an old men bent at the neck. His thoughts returned….he, the boy, and the beast….shots rung out…the cape fluttered. He, the boy, and the beast. Raoul was making mental inventory of all that he saw, panning in his mind what the landscape had held, rather emblazoned on his mind…no…there had been no other, of that he was sure. He rested his head in his hands. Why had the beast come there…to finish him? Likely not for he'd have had ample opportunity these last hours if that were his intent. He, the boy, and the beast….the courtyard, the shots. He went over and over it again in his mind, watching with scrutiny, eyeing every detail.

He, the boy, and the…..Raoul's eyes flashed open…and the beast! He was nearly faint from the thought that now gripped him…. "no…" he gasped, "it could not have been so…" Raoul closed his eyes once more, replaying the last fractions of a second, seeing as if through present eyes the movements in the dark, the cape fluttering, and the hand coming from beneath it…he had not grasped the corner of his cape to leave….he had pulled something from beneath it…it had been….a gun!"

Raoul's eyes opened, a flash of horror glossing over him… "surely not!" Raoul found himself on his feet, and though his head and body protested he paced heavily. It simply could not have been, his mind must deceive him still! It was the drugs, the pain, something had obscured the truth of it all. His head was thumping so loud he could barely hear himself think. "Surely not…" he muttered, sitting himself down on an overturned crate. The beast…the gun…the shot… He could think of it no more for surely the beast would have finished him…as he would have finished the beast had he had opportunity!

His gaze began to wander the cavern. Why had all of this been left behind, and not discarded or destroyed? Were they truly too afraid of this Phantom to do what duty should have called them to do? Perhaps they'd taken heed to the writing scribed on the ceiling above. He shook his head. He was coming to learn that fear was a useless emotion, only keeping people from doing that which they ought do without pause.

He gritted his jaw with a bit of determination in his eye. When he and the man…Claude…found their way to the surface, he'd see to sending someone down to rid the Opera House once and for all of these remnants. He'd not permit the beast a space beneath his roof to wage his terrors on a whole new group of unknowing! In an instant he was torn…what if the beast had indeed rescued the propsmaster…what if the beast had indeed intervened with Crawlings….what was it that he wanted of Raoul…what was it that he needed that would change him from slaughterer to savior? He knew not. He knew only that he had tarried there long enough, that if the beast had want to find him, he would have done so by now. They must leave, he must go to Meg's side, reassure her he was alright. By now the doctor would have risen, and no doubt found him to be quite absent. He'd taken no time in deducing what had happened or where Raoul might have gone. No, they could tarry there no longer, for he was driving himself quite mad with the workings of his own mind. The lack of light, the tainted air, the injury…it all played against his ability to think clear thoughts.

Raoul sighed. Now he'd have to find a way to the upper floors. It had been hours that he'd been down in the bowels and his lungs and bones ached for the warm air of the budding spring that was certain to abound far above where he now rested. He knew well that he'd no choice but to rely on the mercies of this new friend, in order that he might return to the surface, for surely he could do no such thing under his own power.

"Claude?" Raoul called out in a voice quite normal in tone and strength.

The man stirred quite easily much to Raoul's relief. "What is it Vicomte?"

"Claude, we should go from this place. I've need to return home, for it is certain that they should have sent out a party in search for me by now." He paused, thinking for a moment. "Do you know where the new dormitories were built for the chorus girls?" He was trusting that the doctor's words had been true and that Meg would even now be resting in the quarters that had been built for her mother.

Claude sat up, removing the sole blanket that he had found. He was quite warm now. "Yes Vicomte, in truth I've inspected it several times whilst it was being finished. I must say it is most functional. It will do well for the young women to have their privacy, under the watchful eye of the ballet mistress."

Raoul wished he could smile at the response, but at the moment all good humor had left him. "Very well sir, we will see to returning to the surface, and then, you'll see me to such quarters?"

Claude inhaled. "Vicomte, if that is what you wish for, I shall do as you've bid me." He nodded, raising himself to a long stretch. He turned to look at Raoul. "Vicomte, are you well enough to travel this distance unaided, or aided by me alone?" He looked a bit concerned knowing he could neither carry nor leave the Vicomte there. He wanted to believe, though he was not entirely certain, that the Phantom had gone.

Raoul could nearly hear the man's concerns in his hesitant reply. "I shall do my best good sir, though I dare say I may not move at more than the speed of a lumbering bear!" Raoul stood, shaking out the article that had covered him. He extended his hand with the garment to Claude.

Claude shook his head, "Vicomte, all that I had when I came in was soaked through and through when I fell into the water. That is something that I'd found here, just over there." He pointed in the general direction of the room that he'd once seen Christine peering out of. He shuddered. His eyes looked down at what he held in his hand. Quickly he grasped the thick black item with both hands, holding it out in front of him. It was a cloak, nay, a hooded cloak! His eyes filled with the seething rage he felt rising within him. "That monster, it's the cloak of that monster!" Raoul said, wanting to tear it shred for shred with his bear hands.

"Vicomte, that his not a man's cloak, look at it carefully, it is rather dainty to be that of a man's would you not say?"

Raoul flinched, looking down more closely, and then nearly instinctively, he lifted it to his nose, running the inner collar of the cloak along his cheek. He closed his eyes as he inhaled. Of all the senses, scent had the ability to take you back at frightening speeds to a place in your past. His chest tightened, only one word ever making it to the surface of his pursed lips….. "Christine…." And then he began to sob.