Title: The Devil We Know
Summary: Christine Daae is the daughter of a recently deceased mafia boss. Suddenly, she finds herself toted as an up and coming gang leader, learning from the Phantom, a man who is feared by even the most powerful in the field as a notorious hit man. Will Christine find the strength to carve her own path, disregarding both darkness and light? Raoul's in it too. I guess.
Disclaimer: Phantom isn't copywritten any more, is it? I don't know. But the book belongs to Leroux and the musical belongs to Andrew Lloyd Webber. Regardless, Erik, Christine, and Raoul aren't my original characters.
Author's Note: I do love me some writing something fierce.
Chapter Five: Paper masks easily torn
She didn't even know if they were real memories or just fragmented dreams her mind had hastily thrown together to cope with the sudden influx of pain and knowledge. The dream cut in and out, one moment sharply vivid then wispy and incomprehensible.
A sweet, female voice filled the air and she felt a wave of love and warmth. "Do you… hold her?"
The ceiling covered by a face too hazy to distinguish. A flash of white cut his expression in two, someone new and exciting for her simple mind. And the voice of an angel that brought a happy smile to her lips. "I shouldn't… so little… hurt her…"
Maybe she reached upward at that point. Lord knows the visitor's voice made her want to be held. The female voice laughed in reply to whatever he had said. "Don't… absurd, Erik. Look… her… not afraid…"
He pulled his face back and Christine felt an undeniable urge to cry at the loss. He quickly returned to his position staring down at her and she must have stopped sobbing immediately. Another sweet, womanly laugh filled the air. "Spoiled rotten… Gustav gives her everything… needs someone like you."
Another need to reach upward and this time two black hands rewarded her by slipped down to wrap around her hesitantly. The unsteady feeling of floating supported by hands larger than her mother's as she was cradled to a warm, flat chest. A scent she would never forget: musky and spicy, surrounded her and she leaned into the aroma, drifting to sleep in the happiness.
Another scene, slightly more concrete. She ran down the hall, spurred on by the sound of her favorite person's voice. Nearing the front door she saw her angel in black and she dove at him, wrapping her tiny arms around his legs. He looked younger than she remembered, his eyes sparkling when he saw her. "Angel! You came back!"
Her mother, beautiful and smiling as usual, knelt down to her height. "Come now, Christine. Let Erik sit down before you maul him."
"It's alright," he assured her, scooping the five year old Christine onto his arm easily. "I don't mind."
Christine perched on his forearm like it was a swing and leaned forward to press her cheek against his mask. "Will you sing your song for me, Angel?"
Christine's mother laughed brightly and shook her head. "I'll get lunch started. You two obviously have some catching up to do! And here I thought you'd be stricter with her than her father. You're worse than he is with the spoiling!"
Erik followed behind her mother with Christine still on his arm. "It's fine, Elizabeth. Anything for the little princess."
Christine patted his mask with a small, sticky hand and he quickly shifted her to his other arm, out of the reach of his secret. He smiled at her when she pouted. "Curious much?"
"I just wanted to see my Angel's pretty face." Christine explained with a childish, flattering tone.
"Did you want me to sing 'Masquerade' for you?" His change of topic worked easily on her. She nodded happily and let him put her down so he could sing her favorite song- his song. The words eluded her, but the tune floated up from the depth of her mind, wrapping her in its beauty. She sighed and closed her eyes on the dream.
Christine woke to a rough hand shaking her shoulder. Meg's face peered down at her worriedly. "Christine? You were crying. What's wrong?"
Sitting up slowly in her bed, her hands flew to her face and felt wetness. Her voice cracked from sleep. "I don't know. It wasn't a bad dream. Just made me sad, I guess."
"Well, you're okay now," Meg's arms gave her a quick hug for comfort and a pat on the head. "If you want breakfast, you'd best get up now. I just finished cooking."
Nodding, Christine watched the blonde girl sweep from the room and pressed a hand to her forehead to steady her thoughts. The clock on the nightstand blinked the time at 9 AM. She really did not want to be subjected to training with Erik today, not after last night. That man could avoid conflicts with the best of them. No doubt he would be just as polite and distant as always during another two hours of firearms lessons.
Groaning under her breath, she changed into a nice part of running pants and a loose T-shirt, pulling her unruly hair into an easy ponytail. Maybe she could get out of it, she pondered as she slipped into socks and tennis shoes. She hurried to the small kitchen near the bedrooms on the second floor for breakfast.
Meg was the only one there when she entered. "Meg, do you know any self-defense you can teach me?"
"Huh? Isn't that Erik's job?" she asked, stirring the eggs on the stove. "I know some things my mom taught me when I was younger. Just a few dirty ways to fight."
"Would you mind showing me after you're done?" Christine asked, hopefully.
"No problem," Meg moved the pan of eggs from the burner and turned off the stove. They ate quickly then rushed downstairs toward the back door that led out into a vacant lot.
"The first thing you should know is that screaming is oftentimes an easy weapon. Lean into the attacker and scream at the top of your lungs straight into his or her ear. That shit hurts like a mother. Sometimes it's enough to get them to let go then you can run." Meg motioned for her to stand closer. Wrapping her arms under Christine's in a firm hold, she instructed how to break someone's hold. "If it's a guy, you want to go for the groin."
"In this case, you slam your heel down on my foot and elbow me in the rib, twisting as you go. That should be enough to get them to ease up on their hold enough to slip out." Meg paused as she dropped her hold before Christine could get any ideas. "We really can't practice this too much since I don't have protective gear. But it's easy enough."
Christine nodded, absorbing the information with interest. As she stared at Meg, she noticed some movement at the top of the brick wall surrounding Madame Giry's. A familiar young man was climbing over the wall, his long blond hair tied back in a ponytail. Raoul wasn't dressed in a suit today.
Christine tried to keep her face blank as she turned to Meg and motioned for the door. "Can you go get us some water before we start with practicing? It's so hot out here already, I'm afraid my endurance for this stuff is low."
Meg smiled and walked back into the club, leaving Christine alone for when Raoul finally heaved himself over the wall. He jogged over to her lightly, his jeans conforming to a slender, boyish figure. "I've been out here all night waiting for you! I thought something must have happened to you for sure."
"You've been out here all night?" She asked, surprised.
"Well, from about five o'clock in the morning on, really," He added then remembered something. "Why didn't you TELL me the Phantom was forcing you to stay here?!"
"Forcing- wha?" she managed before he grabbed her by the arm and hurried her out of the back lot. "Where are we going, Raoul?"
"I'm taking you in as an eye witness to the Phantom's whereabouts and placing you in protective custody," he said, making her halt in her tracks. "What's wrong?"
"I can't," she stated, a worried line appearing between her eyebrows. "I can't talk about him."
"Christine, your testimony can help the police put him away for good." Raoul urged in a pleading voice. "Please, I need this. I've been living with these… criminals for almost a month now and until you came along I had no leads at all."
"It's not my problem if you can't do your job without my help," she said angrily, pulling free of his grip.
"Christine, if you don't report what you know, Madame Giry might get in trouble for harboring a criminal."
"You say it like you have enough to convict him of a crime." Christine crossed her arms and narrowed her gaze on Raoul, who fidgeted in his place.
"Not yet, but-"
"Not ever, Raoul." She corrected. "He's not stupid enough to be caught by anyone, let alone a cop who doesn't even want to be here. You'll never catch him if you keep expecting others to turn him in."
Just then, Meg came running toward them with water bottles in her hands. "You're that boy from yesterday and the day before! Get away from her!"
Raoul sent Christine a last, pleading look before jumping into his car and driving away. Meg panted as she reached where Christine stood, handing her a bottle. "Did you forget the whole screaming thing I just taught you? Geez."
Christine smiled at her apologetically. "Sorry. He caught me by surprise."
"Well," she huffed as she opened her water and took a drink. "I think you just got your very own stalker. The other girls are gonna be jealous."
"I'm really grateful that you're doing this for me," Christine said for the third time since she and Meg had left for her house.
"Don't mention it, but I can't believe Erik didn't let you pack before he took you away. That's absurd. The girls can't keep lending you clothes, not that they mind. Most of them don't have much to wear anyway."
They pulled into the driveway and Meg parked the car. "Do you want me to come with you?"
Christine shook her head. "It should be okay. I'll just be a minute."
As Christine got out of the car, Meg leaned over and called, "Don't forget a nice dress for the masquerade party tonight!"
Christine waved her into silence as she neared the front door. The police had boarded up the front door, which was for the best since Erik had shot it all to hell and it probably didn't stay shut on its own anymore. There was police caution tape draped back and forth over the door. Sighing to herself, she walked over to the large side gate and pulled a hidden string that let the gate swing open harmlessly. A fundamental flaw in its construction, knowing what she did now about her parents' need for security.
She circled around to the sliding glass door leading into a living room in the middle of the first floor. It was unlocked, as usual. How careless of her father to let this lack of security continue! Any number of his enemies could have just entered and…
Well, he'd already paid that price. Luckily she'd been away at the time or else she might have lost her life too.
Erik wouldn't have let that happen, a small voice in the back of her mind chided. It was a silly thought. Even if he was watching over her, he couldn't be her guardian angel ever second of the day. And people were so fragile.
Shaking the gruesome thoughts from her head, she walked up the stairs toward her bedroom. She pulled out a duffel bag and began tossing articles of clothing into it, pausing at her closet in front of her selection of dresses and shoes. The only one flashy enough for a masquerade party had belonged to her mother. Her father had given her all her mother's old clothes when she was eighteen, insisting she could wear whatever she wanted.
The dress had a corset top and the skirt was full like an upside down carnation. It was a pure, luminous white beaded with tiny, lavender crystals sewn in a swirling, circular pattern down the top half. It had an almost ballerina look to it. She always wondered why her mother had bought it. It was beautiful, but more suited to a Halloween party than everyday wear.
She carefully rolled the dress in its plastic cover and stuffed it into the duffel bag on top of her normal clothes and work dresses. Choosing three pairs of shoes and placing them in as well, she zipped the duffel bag shut. Turning to leave, something on her dresser caught her eye.
A toy monkey held a pair of cymbals in its tiny paws. It was coated in a layer of dust as she hadn't played with the toy for many years. If she remembered correctly, when wound up, it played a lovely tune…
On a whim, she snatched the cymbal monkey from her dresser, clutching it to her chest as she ran back down to the car where Meg waited. As she neared the car, she realized that Meg was talking heatedly into her cellphone, an angry look on her face. Meg saw her approach and waved at her to hurry.
Christine opened the door to a blast of noise from Meg's end of the conversation. "Mother, I didn't know she was supposed to stay in the club, okay?! Damn. We're coming back now anyway!"
Christine tossed her bag to the floorboard and climbed in. "Yeah yeah, she's right here. Tell him to calm the fuck down. Does he want to talk to her?"
After a moment's pause, Meg thrust the phone at Christine. "You talk to him, I've gotta drive."
Warily, Christine took the phone and held it up to her ear. "Hello?"
"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!"
Christine cringed and almost dropped the phone in her haste to get it away from her ear. "Erik? I wanted to go get some clothes."
"You could have asked me to take you when I came to pick you up for our lesson!"
Sighing heavily, Christine wound up the twist key on the back of the monkey toy as she spoke. "I didn't want to have a lesson with you. I was pretty angry with you from yesterday. I didn't want to see you yet."
"Christine-" He paused as if listening to something. "What's that?"
"Huh?" she asked, then remembered the monkey chiming softly in her hands. "Oh, I grabbed an old toy while I was there. It was all covered in dust and, I don't know, I just wanted to bring it with me."
There was a long silence and she thought he had hung up. "Are you still there?"
His voice was overly stern as he ordered, "Just hurry up and get back here."
He hung up and Christine passed the phone back to Meg. "Sorry. I didn't think you'd get in trouble. I just wanted to get my things."
Meg shrugged it off. "Don't worry about it. It's not the first time my mom's been angry with me. You know mothers. Their bark is worse than their bite."
Christine wondered if this had been the case with her own mother. From what Erik told her, she was a paragon of virtue, the perfect mix of darkness and light. She had lost her mother when she was five, almost six years old. Her memory of Elizabeth Daae was cloudy and sad.
"Meg, do you know anything about my mom?"
Meg started in her seat, surprised then groaned. "Damn, I upset you didn't I? I totally forgot about… well, your mother being dead. Anyway, I think I met her once or twice. She often came to my mom for advice. I was just a little girl, barely older than you, when she committed suicide."
"What?" Christine stared at her in shock. The monkey toy fell forgotten to her lap. "Suicide? Since when?"
"Since fifteen years ago when she died. You didn't know?" Meg demanded, confused. "I could be wrong; I mean I was only ten at the time. But that's what my mom told me when I asked why everyone was so sad. The women in the club wore black roses pinned to their dresses for a whole month afterwards. And Erik disappeared for a long time. Mom was afraid he was gonna do something crazy."
A sad smile ghosted her lips as she listened to Meg's account of that dark time. Meg glanced at her worriedly from the corner of her eyes and announced in a lighter tone. "Ice cream! Man, it's been so long since I had some of that. What d'ya say?"
Surprised by the sudden switch in moods, Christine smirked. "Trying to cheer me up?"
"I dunno. Is it working? Mmm, just think of it. Butter pecan. Maybe some cookies and cream. Hey, we can get triple scoops. I don't know about you, but I'm already there." Meg shrugged as she parked the car in the lot outside the ice cream shop. "I'm just saying. You can come along for the ride. My treat. If you ask nicely, I might tack a movie onto the deal. You can be my date. No chick flicks though."
Christine laughed and followed her out of the car.
It was two in the afternoon when Meg and Christine finally got back to the club, laughing about the ridiculous action movie they'd just seen. Erik and Madame Giry were waiting nervously at the bar counter in the empty club. They jumped up when the front door opened and shut.
"Can you believe he flipped the car three times? Now that's movie magic."
"I was more surprised when the bad guy turned out to be the old woman living next door!"
Meg and Christine halted upon seeing the glowering expressions waiting for them. Christine had her duffel bag slung over her shoulders, the cymbal monkey clasped in her hands. Madame Giry pointed to Meg and then to her office. "You. I have words for you. In my office, now."
Meg sighed and cast a martyred look at her accomplice, then followed her mother back into the room. The office door banged shut and muffled yelling followed. Erik stared at Christine, who returned his angry scowl with ease. He opened his mouth to start in on her, but she brushed passed him and up the stairs. "Save it. You're neither my mother nor my father and I don't need a lecture."
He stood frozen, an outraged look on his face as if she'd slapped him hard across the cheek. Before she could resist him, he grabbed her by the arm and dragged her out to the parking lot. Erik barely had the door to his Buick open before he was throwing her inside, slamming the door shut behind her and swiftly rounding the car to get in on the other side.
Christine hastily locked the door just as he reached for the handle. Furious, he scrabbled with his keys to unlock the door only to have her jam the lock back down again with her fist. They glared at each other through the glass window. He whirled around to try and reach the passenger door before she could remember to lock it.
Scrambling across the bucket seat, she reached for the locking mechanism just a moment too late. He yanked open the door, almost sending her toppling to the sidewalk. Grabbing her shoulder to catch her before she fell, he kissed her passionately while their hearts beat hard from the absurd fight.
She struggled in his arms for a second before digging her fingers into his shoulders and returning the bruising kiss, mind whirling. Too many emotions battered against her, longing and pain, confusion and lust. She needed this. She needed him and she wanted him to know it.
They broke apart against their will, both gasping for air. Between pants, she met his eyes and murmured in a ragged breath, "Erik. I think I'm in love with you."
A look of utter disbelief and wonder came over him. He was dazed with hope. "But… you were so angry about my mask. How can you be attracted to someone whose face yo haven't seen?"
She leaned in to rest her forehead against his, closing her eyes as she skimmed her hand over the cold porcelain covering the right side of his face. "I don't understand it either, but I am. Once you're ready, we'll deal with the mask. For now, I just want to sort through this slowly. I don't want to make any more mistakes, Erik. And I don't want to lie to myself."
"Christine!" Meg called from the door of the club. "We have to help decorate for the party tonight!"
Erik groaned under his breath, their face still inches apart, close enough for more kisses. Christine was pleased to find she was having an effect on him. Good. Maybe now he'd know how she felt when he'd teased her and then left her alone two nights before. She grinned up at the desire in his eyes and slid forward to get out of the car. "Duty calls. Are you coming to the masquerade party later?"
"Of course," he replied curtly, grumpy that she even had to ask as he stepped back so she could escape. "And I expect you to be my date. If I find that… young… boy… lurking around, I'll-"
"Don't worry about Raoul," Christine interrupted, slipping her arms around his waist and under his black blazer. She ran a finger along the gun strapped to the small of his back, hidden from view. "I got rid of him."
The tense look on his face softened and he placed a quick kiss to her forehead before pulling away from her embrace. She grabbed her discarded duffel bag and the poor monkey toy as she made her way back to the club. Meg held the door open for her as she entered and shot her a clever look. "What?"
"Nothing!" Meg let the door swing shut behind her and threw her arm around Christine's shoulders. "Lover's quarrel solved?"
Shooting a glare at the blonde woman, Christine shrugged her off and made for the stairs. Meg called after her, "Okay, be that way. I'm just gonna start cleaning then. Don't be long!"
After the cleaning and decorations, Madame Giry gathered all the women working in the club into the circular area near the bar. They had all bustled around after getting the party set up in order to change into their costumes and fancy dresses. Madame Giry went around with a bag of masks, letting her employees pick out their masks as she spoke. "The rules of the party are: do not take off your mask. By the end of the night, you must accept the rose of one masked gentleman for the closing dance."
"Whether or not you decide to sleep with the man whose flower you accepted is up to you," she stated as she reached Christine in the long line of women and halted in surprise. She stared at the white and lilac dress for a moment. "Where did you get that dress?"
Christine's hand clung to the fabric of the poofy skirt, smoothing down the perfect layers of ivory lace and silk. She scuffed the hardwood floor with the toe of her white high-heeled shoes. "It belonged to my mother. I grabbed it when Meg took me home to get my clothes."
After another long moment of studying Christine's attire, Giry pulled the bag of masks away before she could reach for one. "No. There is a special mask for this dress. Meg, come here, darling."
Meg came forward wearing a dark blue spaghetti strap dress, more slip than anything, and tall, leather boots. The tan and blue of her feathered mask went well with her outfit. Madame Giry handed her the bag. "Please finish this up for me, dear. I need to speak with Christine."
Madame Giry took Christine by the hand and led her up the stairs, passed the second floor and further. She unlocked the door to the third floor. Her master suite.
Christine stepped onto the plush, green carpet lining the floor of Madame Giry's chamber and fought to keep her heels from sinking into the floor. "Shoes, please, Christine. This is wool carpeting."
Kicking off her heels, Christine padded into the room, enjoying the softness of the carpet on her bare feet. A spacious, four post bed sat along one wall with an antique chest pressed up against the foot of the bed. Madame Giry strode across the room toward it and threw back the lid. The metal hinges on the treasure chest squeaked in protest.
"This belonged to your mother," she lifted an elaborate face mask out of the chest. It was shaped like a butterfly constructed of sturdy, white paper decorated with splashes of purple and gilded gold wire. Tiny green drops of plastic dangled from the edges of the wings. "She left it in my care. She made it for her first masquerade party working here."
Christine brushed a tentative finger along the gilded under wire of the mask. So much excitement showed in the details of this mask. Her mother had obviously been dying to attend a party just like the one she was about to enjoy tonight. Madame Giry placed the mask into her hands carefully with a soft smile. Christine took the mask like a badge of honor and turned glittering, brown eyes on the older woman. "Did my mother kill herself, Madame?"
"Yes, little one." Giry replied softly, brushing Christine's curly, brown hair from her shoulder. "There were many times when your mother felt trapped in her life. Everyone placed her on a pedestal and your father was… controlling. A very strict husband. He forbade her from seeing her friends, but even then she never thought ill of him. He knew no other way of treating those he loved. You know this in your heart."
"I was so shocked to find out the truth about how he lived," Christine whispered as a tear escaped the corner of her eyes and fell on the surface of the mask. "And if he lied about that, how hard would it be to lie about other things? It's sad that I know the least about my own parents."
"They loved you, Christine. That's all you need to know for sure. The rest you can discover as you go," Madame Giry patted her arm and led her out of the room. "Now, your mask! And do not let it slip during the party."
Christine pulled her mask over her face carefully and fixed her curly hair around it. Then she slipped her feet back into her shoes, squared her shoulders and slowly descended the stairs where the other women of Madame Giry's were greeting the first patrons of the night.
Erik waited at the bottom of the stairs in his black suit over pinstriped dress shirt, a red silk rose and handkerchief tucked securely into his front suit pocket. A black, glass mask shaped like a half circle concealed the entire right side of his face and a few strands of his slicked back hair fell on his forehead. He reached out a gloved hand as she approached and she placed her smaller hand in his.
She smiled up at him and from what little she could see of his face, he was gazing at her in open admiration. Leaning close, she whispered, "So, are we going to stand here all night, or are you gonna ask me to dance?"
Afraid she would suddenly change her mind, Erik took her to the dance floor.