Disclaimer: All references to the characters from the Gaston Leroux's The Phantom of the Opera belong to their pertinent parties and publishers. I do not claim ownership to the characters, any iteration from a major production of the same material, and / or the original source material.
De petite souris a monsieur chat: Chapter 6
August 1882: In the Phantom's Lair
Two days later Erik impatiently paced the main room of his lair. He had awoken early and dressed himself in his finery. Since he had yet to replace his good mask, he made do with his worn one. He hoped Christine would not mind. She had seen his actual face, but Erik wanted to be immaculate for her. Over the hours, he had tried to compose, play both the violin and piano, and repair what remind of his personal effects. With a growl of frustration, he had swept his sheet music to the floor and everything else that lay upon his ebony desk. So, he had chosen to pace as his anxiety grew. The soft chime of the clock on the fireplace mantle made him stop.
She was late. He turned wondering if she had misread the directions and lost her way in the labyrinth of tunnels. The Daroga knew the labyrinth very well, but this was the first time his golden haired Angel had ever walked those bleak tunnels. As the last chime died, he heard soft, shuffling footsteps nearing his home. She emerged from the darkness carrying a small candle. Pursing her lips, she blew the candle out before setting it down on the floor. Carefully, she removed her hood and stood holding her shaking hands.
"Christine," he said in his hypnotic voice. Afraid she may run like the doe in spring from the hungry wolf, he didn't dare to move close to her.
"Erik... I... I'm sorry... For everything. I know you said you forgive me, but I still feel so guilty," she said quietly. "Yet I asked a favor of you. " Her blue eyes stared at the patterns in the rug.
"Ma chère, I will do anything for you. I am your humble servant. All you have to do is ask," he said taking a few steps closer to her. He wanted to see her eyes, her cherubic face framed by a halo of golden curls.
"Can we sing once more?" her voice had dropped to a whisper as if she was afraid to speak.
Erik smiled and for the first time since she had left him, he felt joy. "Of course, Christine." He carefully took her cloak and laid it upon the coach near the fireplace. He removed his suit jacket and white kid gloves and laid them both beside her cloak. The faint smell of jasmine began to fill his lair. Because the organ remained in pieces, he chose to settle himself before the piano. He failed to notice Christine's wandering eye around his ruined lair and emotions that filled her sky blue eyes. He began to play the passage from Gounod's Romeo et Juliette and Erik lost himself in her angelic voice.
Christine sang and at times, Erik sang with her. He watched her just as she watched him - both enthralled by the music they made together. Their voices soared, dove, and hovered in the air. The space between them was filled with electricity. Erik favored the songs he had taught Christine to sing and she smiled a little easier each time a familiar bar started underneath his deft fingers. He saved Faust for last. During their shared moment of music, Christine had moved closer to him. She stood beside him, her hand resting gently on his shoulder as he sang Mephistopheles lines from Faust: "You whom I adore, refuse not, I implore, a sweet kiss..."
He gazed up at her loving face. His Marguerite did not sleep but her lips were sweet upon his. He abruptly stopped playing as he realized Christine had answered his request. Erik hadn't planned on this response from her, but his trembling hands reached up to touch her soft, flowing hair. He felt her hands release him as she pulled away. Reluctantly, he released her. The kiss had been tender and gentle just like Christine; a kiss the exact opposite of the desperate one she last gave him in his home. A far away dreamy look glazed her eyes as he stared at her.
"Why did you kiss me?" he asked in a near whisper. He swallowed hard trying to control the tremor in his melodic voice. He couldn't stand to look at her so Erik turned away. He pressed the heel of his hand to his exposed eye to hold back the tears that wished to fall. "Why, Christine?" Why did you do it? Don't you know what you do to me?! He wanted to say it, but his voice caught in his throat.
The dazed look in her eyes had gone and Christine had pulled away instinctively. It had not been her plan to kiss him so soon. She had been caught up in the song; her Mephistopheles' loving gaze had beckoned to her as he implored her for a kiss. His voice had wrapped around her like a warm blanket. For the love of all that was holy, she had missed that embrace. Her body ached for it. To have it returned to her by the Angel once more... not a monster as he had been but her dear Angel... She began to ring her hands, one over the other, revealing her anxiety. She dropped her frightened gaze to the hem of her dress.
"I... don't know why," she lied. She knew perfectly well why. The music had wrapped around her heart and squeezed out of all the pressure found there. She had flown back into the clouds the Angel of Music created with his music and voice. Her imagination and passion had intertwined once more. She turned to go, but Erik caught her arm unexpectedly. His grip wasn't painful, but it was strong enough to draw her back to him.
"Why do you do this to me, Christine? Why do you torture me in my dreams and now here? You made your choice..." he questioned her as he held her in front of him. Tears came unwanted as he stared up at her beatific face. Her golden hair glowed in the gas lights of his lair. Her blue eyes were normally the color of the summer sky in Provence, but a hint of cobalt tinted them. A blush graced her pale cheeks. Mon dieu, he thought, has she ever been more beautiful? He drew her down to sit on the bench beside him.
"Our music," she said with a downcast glance. "I don't want to... I don't want to see it die."
Erik drew her to him in an embrace as she cried and poured out her hurt over her husband's inability to understand. Her body shuddered as she spoke, "Raoul knows only Little Lotte - a dreamer, a girl who danced and sang to her father's music. He loves to see me sing, to hear it, but he doesn't feel it! I don't know how to make him understand. I don't know how... He wants to clip my wings, Erik."
"Christine," he sighed while stroking her back as he held her. His shoulder was wet and growing cold underneath her hot tears. "Does he want you to stop singing altogether?"
"I don't know... I heard his mother tell him to take me away from Paris in order to 'fulfill my wifely duties.'" The acerbic tone as Christine said the last few words made her laugh. "Wifely duties... She says it's unbecoming for me to sing dressed as a trollop or slave on stage. She says I should be at home waiting patiently for Raoul; that I should attend to his every need like Sarah for Abraham."
"She sounds like a Puritan," Erik muttered. He felt Christine give a chuckle and pull away from him. He reluctantly let his hands slip away from her body. He had promised not to keep her and like a gentleman, he would respect her wishes.
"I don't know what to do, Erik. That's why I have been avoiding the mangers' questions as to my next performance. It's why I wrote to you and talked with you at the opera. It's why I came today." She took the handkerchief Erik proffered to dab her eyes and face of the tears. "I didn't mean to cause you more turmoil, Erik. I simply need to feel again." She smiled and made an embarrassed gesture. "I'm sorry for ruining your shirt and sharing my troubles with you. That was never my intent..."
"I do not think..." He despised and envied the man to steal his angel so he once again refused to say his name aloud. "Your husband will most certainly not approve of your visit or actions today." He watched Christine's slender shoulders drop in dismay. "You will have to be more discreet when you wish to visit me for another lesson." His tempestuous heart sang when she smiled. "Have you told any of your friends of your predicament?"
Christine shook her curly blond head. He heaved a heavy sigh and ran a hand through his slicked back hair.
"Maybe you should. I am sure they can give you an idea as to how to come to a compromise with your husband and his mother's demands." Erik smiled as Christine let the idea sink in. Oh, Christine... you are so innocent. It's why I will always... His train of thought stopped before he finished it. He would always love her, but she would never return it. Or would she? She had kissed him. Did he dare to continue to hope? Yet... I want to hold on to what is left. I don't want to let our music die.
Her hand on his wet shoulder shook him back from his thoughts. A thin eyebrow was raised in question over her quizzical expression. "Erik? Did you hear what I said?"
"I... No, I did not. Can you repeat what you said?" he asked stiffening. Her face was so close to his. All he had to do was lean in to touch those soft pink lips again... but then she was no longer there. The soft chime of the clock on the mantle echoed throughout the lair.
"I said I have to go," she gave him once last smile before turning to rise from the makeshift piano bench. "Perhaps I can find Marguerite or Eleanor before I must be home."
"The passage you once used is still there. You may take it if you wish. Would you like for me to escort you?" He didn't move from his spot. He watched her don her cloak. He both wanted and did not want Christine to say yes to his offer. He couldn't bring himself to be close to her again. She was like fire to him; the closer he was to Christine, the more he longed to stay near her and breathe in the scent of her.
She laughed, a gentle one that warmed and calmed the tempest in his heart. "That is unnecessary. I believe I can manage on my own."
He heard the rustle of her skirts on his Turkish rug. He heard her stop, turn, and softly say "Thank you, Erik." The Phantom couldn't bear to turn and watch her leave him once again. Yet he yearned for that one last fleeting glimpse of beauty. Rising from his seat, Erik chose to follow his Angel.