AN: thank you for all the reviews and support! It keeps the words flowing.
"Christine! Are you listening to me?" Reyer demanded.
She started. "I'm sorry, monsieur."
He sighed. "Take ten so Mlle. Daaé can pull her head out of the clouds," he shouted to the cast. There was a fair amount of grumbling and a few actors and actresses sent glares her way, including Reyer.
"Christine!" Meg Giry called, scurrying across the stage to meet her. "What's going on with you today? You're acting like you're in a different world."
"I'm sorry, Meg," the Prima Donna apologized. "I'm a bit distracted, that is all."
"A bit!" Meg scoffed with an unladylike snort. "You seem very scatterbrained today. What's on your mind?" she pressed.
Christine chewed on her lower lip, feeling torn. She wanted to relent to the hopeful look on Meg's face and tell her about her visits to The Phantom but at the same time she knew she could not. She didn't want anyone to know—and she hadn't even asked him if he wanted it to remain secret— but she knew the answer would be the same as hers. And then there was how she had sung so beautifully for him last night. Another cause for her absent-minded behavior was the conversation she had with Raoul not so long ago about the end of her career . That, she decided, she could relay to Meg. She had proved to be a good friend over the long years and she owed it to her after all she had done for her.
"Come with me," she bided. She led her friend to the back of the stage. Meg followed her obediently, a mix of confusion and anxiety distorting the pretty planes of her face.
Taking a deep breath, Christine blurted, "Raoul wants me to retire. Soon."
Meg's eyes widened and her hand flew dramatically to her mouth. "But surely you won't!" she gasped.
"I will. The last showing of Carmen will be my final performance."
"But that's in only a little less than three weeks!"
Christine sighed. "It is soon," she admitted. "I was going to tell you but…"
"I know you would have told me," Meg dismissed the matter with a flippant wave of her hand. "I just can't believe you're retiring because he wants you to! I would have thought you wouldn't have submitted so easily."
"I'm only relenting because it is what's best for him and his name. An actress is not a reputable career, especially for a woman," Christine reminded her. "And it pleases him for me to retire. That is a wife's job, is it not?"
"You can't be serious Christine! You shouldn't let him push you around so."
Christine frowned. "I chose to retire. If I hadn't consented he wouldn't have forced to me to."
Meg raised an eyebrow. "But you don't want to retire."
"Yes and no," Christine admitted reluctantly.
"So don't let him make you think so!"
"He doesn't control me, my thoughts, or my actions! I am choosing to retire because it is what is best for him."
"But what about what's best for you? You are a part of this marriage too."
"I loathed the idea at first because I knew I would hate not performing," Christine confessed. "I knew that retiring wouldn't bring me happiness. But we cannot have everything we want in life. I chose to be married so I must make the sacrifices that come with that. I could have refused him and continued to sing, but I consented to marry him and I must act accordingly."
Meg sighed. "Oh, but if I could have just a drop of your wisdom! I am afraid that I will remain childish for the rest of my life."
"My wisdom is not desirable," Christine laughed, trying to lighten up the situation. "You are far from childish Meg, you have a strong head on your shoulders and a Baron to provide for you. You will be very happy," she assured her.
"It sounds like you're saying your goodbye's already!" Meg cried with a sad smile on her lips. "We will still see each other, won't we?"
"Of course," Christine affirmed with a smile. "We won't drift apart."
"Your ten minutes are up!" Reyer bellowed from the stage. "Ballet corps to stage left."
Meg parted with a brief goodbye. Christine started to hurry back to the stage when she heard a faint creak form the balcony above her. Craning her neck upward she scanned the rafters above her but saw nothing. She assured herself it was a stagehand and went back onstage.
The rest of rehearsal passed quickly and she succeeded in clearing her head from all thoughts of Erik, her career, or Raoul. She met Erik at the mirror as was custom.
"Are you going to be expected by your fiancée this evening?"
She frowned. "No…"
"I will take the liberty of keeping you late then. I understand we are on a very restricted time frame?"
"Excuse me?"
"You are retiring soon? In almost three weeks' time?"
Christine's jaw dropped. She hadn't the faintest idea how he knew, the only ones she thought had known were Meg and Raoul and neither of them were in contact with Erik. Regaining her composure she affirmed his speculations.
"The Vicomte thinks that his position is too great and that you would embarrass him; does he not?"
She felt her face heat up and her temper triggered. How harsh were his words! But she could not deny the truth behind them. "An actress is not an esteemed position," she replied, evading his question.
"Do not tell me that you willfully volunteered to retire."
She hesitated and then reluctantly shook her head.
He sighed, frustrated. "You cannot let yourself be swayed so easily by other people."
Her anger intensified. "I am not weak. I agreed to the situation. He didn't force me." She thought this conversation was rather redundant; like the one between her and Meg. She was tired of people thinking she was a pushover. She was strong. She was strong because she was giving up what she loved for her fiancée. She was sacrificing her happiness, and that was not weak.
Erik raised his eyebrows.
"I am not so selfish as to continue to sing and resultantly put our reputation at stake. I still tarnish their name even after retiring. I am going to do what it takes for our marriage to thrive, and if that means retiring, then I will retire."
Erik seemed stunned by her bold words.
"My life is not a fairytale. Some decisions that must be made are not desirable."
He still seemed surprised by the frankness and candor of her words. "I did not think that your situation was so serious."
"In that lofty society status is more than acceptance, it is a main factor of their livelihood."
"Forgive me, but I think it sounds rather shallow," Erik said cautiously.
"I could not agree more," Christine agreed with a slight smile. "It's ridiculous how they're consumed over money and appearance and superficial matters. They can be dull, easy to judge, and quite self-absorbed at times." she added.
"Then why are you doing this?"
"I l-love him."
"Love causes one to go to great measures. You must care for him very much if you are willing to trap yourself with such superficial people rather than sing at the Garnier."
She smiled weakly. "Yes, I do," she replied feebly.
They had reached his home by now.
"There is a bit in Carmen that I would like to help you on that I noticed you struggled with during rehearsal today. Afterwards we will break and then start on my opera. It will be another long night. We will begin with an E major scale. Commencer."
They toiled through Carmen. The inflection was there but her technique, in some places, was not. Erik was meticulous, as usual, and accepted nothing short of perfection. They finally finished after some time and Erik went to prepare the tea.
"I really cannot believe it. Christine Daaé retiring to be a housewife. So much talent wasted." He shook his head as if it were a great loss and sat down into a chair opposite her. He folded one leg over the other and traced his finger around the rim of his teacup as he stared expectantly, bright eyes glistening from behind his mask in the dim lamplight.
"I never thought I would see the day either," she admitted.
"You won't be able to come here anymore, will you? Or," he added in a bitter undertone. "you won't want to."
"No," she assured him quickly, and without thinking she reached out to grab his hand. "Not at all." He tensed at the feeling of her touch. She felt the room suddenly grow colder and she shivered. He withdrew his hand and stood up abruptly.
"We should begin again; we haven't much time, and your next performance is in two days time."
Feeling embarrassed and awkward, she stood up and followed him back to the piano. She felt shy, ashamed at her rash, and uncalled for actions. She probably scared him, grabbing his hand as she had, and then he had gone back to music to avoid speaking to her. Not that she blamed him.
That night she realized that he was not as indifferent as she had believed him to be when she first saw him after those four years. He was truly concerned about her singing; he put just as much effort into helping her with Carmen as he did with his opera. Moreover, he seemed to care about her wellbeing. He continuously asked about her health and was the air too drafty? During the past few days he also inquired if the managers were treating her well and respectfully, if she had any complaints about the Garnier, and if her apartment was suitable enough. Of course Erik was not a saint, far from one, and there were multiple times when his cruel behavior was uncalled for. But that was just part of what made him…him. Nonetheless, she was grateful for his kindness and regarded him as more than a teacher, as a good friend. She tried to give him the same benevolence in return.
She remembered how the occupants of the opera house had regarded him as such a powerful, frightening, and cruel figure—with reason. They only knew he was a murderer and that he had terrorized the Garnier—not to mention the outlandish rumors that spread like wildfire through the impressionable ballet rats. They had not had the opportunity to see his more gentle side like Christine had.
She was not stupid; she knew what crimes he had committed and she did not dismiss them. She was also well aware of what had happened between them those four years ago. But it seemed that he had moved on and that he only cared for her in merely platonic sort of way. He had been so disgusted when she had grabbed his hand—she felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment just thinking about her rash actions—that she was assured that he did not have feelings for her any longer. He needed her voice, that was all.
But she needed his instruction, so she was willing to put up with his temper and risk being around such a dangerous person. If he ever harmed her she would remove herself from the situation. But so far, he had given her no reason to.