Erik deeply breathed the smell of the ocean, filling his lungs with the chilled air. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on the sound of the waves below rushing back and forth, crashing onto the sand and rocks. He exhaled slowly, trying to relax. He had been out there making preparations and waiting for several hours. His afternoon slumber had not lasted nearly as long as he had hoped. Upon awakening he lay in his bed thinking of the week. It would be false to say that the vacation had been altogether disastrous. If anything, he kept pinching himself to reassure that he was not dreaming and would not awake to find himself several stories below the opera, alone and nowhere close to achieving what he so desperately wanted.
His heart beat soundly in his chest, a little too fast. He really should not have had a few drinks while he waited, but he could not help himself. He needed to steel his will and fortify his nerve. He stood and once again went over the small inventory of his preparations. He had picketed a small shelter of a half tent to reflect the light and heat of the fire. Thankfully there was no wind tonight, only the slight breeze coming from the sea that occasionally swept across the flames causing them to burn a little higher. He had laid out a blanket on the sparse patch of grass which randomly sat amongst the rocks of the cliffs. A pile of driftwood sat nearby that he fed to the fire periodically. The flames were a beautiful blue-green from the iodine burning in the wood and smelled of the seawater. He had a bottle of honey mead warming near the fire. His own spirits of the stronger sort were tucked neatly away in his coat pocket. His mask lay by his side as he waited, feeling the glorious heat from the fire on his bared skin.
He stared up at the moon. It was very bright for not being quite full and the stars surrounding it winked down on him. Wishing on stars was not a pastime he participated in. He was more likely to curse at them from the Paris Opera rooftop to vent his frustration. He swore under his breath as he shook his head. He must be mad. There was little hope that the evening would turn out as he wished. As amazing as this week had been so far, he knew it was nearly over and although far from ready, he had to take his chances now or never. Once they returned to the opera, he knew deep down that whatever transpired between he and Christine this week would likely be forgotten by her and things would resume to their normal pace and routine. Raoul de Chagny would change everything back to the way it was. He could not let that happen.
He took out his violin and started to play softly to pass the time. He did not pay attention to what he played, letting his mind wander and his fingers do the same across the strings. He was surprisingly not startled when he heard Christine's voice approach, humming the harmony to the tune he played. He finished the last notes of the song and stood and turned to face her. She smiled at him as she approached the fire.
She took a rather deep breath before saying, "Good evening Erik." Her large dark eyes reflected the firelight and seemed to dance before his.
"Good evening Christine. I trust you are well rested and feeling better now?" he replied.
Christine nervously nodded her head as she observed the scene. The fire had obviously been burning for awhile and more driftwood added to it. How long had Erik been out here waiting for her, she wondered? She walked towards him as he stood and motioned for her to sit on the blanket spread underneath the open sky. He had another blanket propped up by poles behind it as a lean-to. As she sat down, she was surprised how warm the spot was between the fire and the shelter of the tent. She kept her cloak around her shoulders, but untied it and removed the hood. Her dress front was toasty warm in moments. She saw a bottle and two glasses sitting close bye. She felt her ears burn hotter than they should have in the night air as she wondered how long Erik had planned all this.
"Would you care for something to drink?" Erik asked?
"Yes please," she said, noticing how high her voice sounded in her head.
Erik leaned over to reach past her for the bottle and grasped it by the neck. She inhaled the heady smell of his cologne in mixture of all else that made his signature scent. His arm brushed hers as he sat back to pour her a glass, sending chills up her spine. He stared at her intensely from beneath his mask as she sipped the warm liquid. Sweetness and heat spread over her tongue as she swallowed the mead. He poured himself a little and raised the cup to his mouth, never taking his eyes off her as he did so. Christine found herself entranced with his lips. He licked the sweetness from them and she hotly blushed as she recalled her dream and how his mouth had so gently caressed hers.
"So," she began, "how long have you been out here waiting for me?"
Erik smiled, "Awhile. It's a surprisingly nice night considering the weather of late."
Christine took another sip and swallowed, trying to think of anything to talk about that would keep her mind off what she dreamed.
Before she could speak again Erik asked her, "Have you enjoyed your vacation so far? Besides being nearly drowned twice." He laughed lightly at the expression she gave.
"Erik, I hardly 'drowned' in the waves the other day. Although I fear I could have died from embarrassment at my behavior. I never did apologize for being so improper." She tucked her chin to her chest and stared into her lap, recalling her actions.
"Christine, do not think of it anymore. You had a moment of," Erik paused to think of the words, "enthusiastic inspiration." He chuckled a little. "You never need worry about what I will think of you. Everything you say and do is dear to me."
"Thank you," Christine replied honestly. She felt a little relieved that he did not think she was not still innocent. "It's been nice to get away from the opera. I did not realize how much I needed a break." She was not thinking entirely of her musical training as she recalled Raoul. She paused, "I don't mean to say that you have been pushing me too hard in my lessons."
Erik said, "That's good to hear. I sometimes fear I am too hard on you. I simply wish for you to excel and have the life you were always meant to have."
Christine relaxed a little. Discussing her career seemed harmless enough. Maybe her assumptions about this evening were not what she had imagined.
"Erik, I don't know what kind of life I was meant to have. If I hadn't been for you teaching me to sing, I would still be a mediocre ballet dancer struggling to stay employed within the opera and living on the good graces of Madame Giry and my small inheritance." She finished her mead, feeling the warmth of the alcohol relax her. She drew her knees up and hugged them, resting her chin on her arms as she stared into the fire, her mind now wandering.
"Christine," Erik said, "You know I want the best for you. I wouldn't have taught you if I didn't think you had it in you to be great. Once the word of you gets around, you will be able to go anywhere in the world. You will be famous!"
"I never dreamt of fame, Erik. Before my father died, my dreams consisted of what he wanted for me. I never would have even made it to Paris at the opera if it hadn't been for him. I suppose I never even considered there to be an alternative. Papa never wanted to see me become a seamstress or a maid, which is all my upbringing would have me fated to do otherwise."
Erik refilled her cup and poured more into his own as he let her continue.
She sighed, "Do you really think I will make him happy in heaven if I become a great star?"
Erik thought this over and replied, "I think your father would be happy if you were, no matter if you are a prima donna or a street corner singer."
"So much good has come of my singing though," she said. "For one thing I would never have been reacquainted with Raoul." She saw Erik stiffen at his name and immediately added, "Nor would I have ever met you."
"Someone's good fortune is another man's curse," Erik muttered darkly.
Exasperated at the derision in his voice she said, "Are you speaking of yourself or Raoul?"
"Raoul of course!" her practically shouted.
"Erik, I know you dislike Raoul," Christine started but she was cut off.
"Dislike?" Erik said with disgust. "I don't dislike him. I loathe his existence!"
Christine straightened up and lowered her knees to address him directly, "Why? Why do you loathe him, as you say? He has been a good friend to me when I have had very few. He has never done anything to you to give reason to hate him so."
"Hate is not the proper word," Erik hissed.
"Then what is the proper word?"
"If you must know its jealousy!"
"Jealousy? Of what might I ask?" she said, gesturing into the air. "His wealth or his status? Please don't tell me his 'good looks' because I find him a little too vain at times."
"I'm jealous because even though we are hundreds of miles away, you still think of him! I'm jealous because out of the thousands of women he could choose to pursue he had to choose you, and you accept it! But mostly, I'm envious of his freedom; to feel entitled to take whatever he wants because he knows he will not be refused!" Erik shouted, his frustrated thoughts bursting like an ugly boil.
"What do you mean 'take whatever he wants'? I don't understand." Christine replied, perturbed.
"Christine, do you know how difficult it is for me to know that he courts you when I'm not around?" he said, pressing his fists to temples and running his hands through his hair as though to tear it out. "Do you realize how agonizing it is to know he has had the honor of kissing you?"
Christine's eyes opened wide at his sudden admittance.
"I, who have never been kissed in my entire life; I who have never known the pleasure of that simple gesture," he turned his head to face hers, his expression smoldering and his eyes glistening with tears. He choked out, "That, Christine, is why I am jealous of him."
He stared at her for one long moment, then turned away and rose to his feet. He walked a few yards away and hugged his chest with his arms. Christine saw his shoulders shaking slightly and watched his hand rise up to wipe the tears from under his mask.
She hesitated for a moment, then got up and walked towards him. He was stonily still, except for the occasional quiet gasps as his chest expanded.
"Raoul has never kissed me," she admitted quietly.
A moment passed, and she was not certain he heard her, then he said, "You honestly expect me to believe that?" his head lowered to stare at the ground and he shook it from side to side slightly. "Christine, you are too good to have to lie for my sake."
Christine felt a lump grow in her throat. "I swear to you I'm not lying."
Erik turned slightly and looked over his shoulder to see her face. Silhouetted against the firelight, he could see her expression and he knew, incredulously, that she was telling the truth.
"Never?" he asked softly.
"No more than you have ever done. He has kissed my hand on parting but he has never dared attempt more," she said, then added, "I have not let him."
Erik took a step closer to her, his arms dropping to his sides to grip his cloak's edge. He closed his eyes, "All this time I have been creating my own monsters in my head, imagining these moments that have never existed?"
Christine nodded. "Yes, it's true." She stepped closer to him. "I've never been kissed," she admitted quietly. Her mind fleeted back to her memory of the dream. 'At least not when I was awake' she thought.
Erik released the breath he had been holding and it came out in a shuddered blow. "Christine," he began, but he stopped.
"Erik?" Christine asked for him to continue.
Erik took a very deep breath and closed his eyes briefly before asking, "What am I to you?"
Christine was not expecting this question. She was unsure how to answer it. "I don't know." She was silent and, despite all the thoughtful musings she had had over the last few days, she knew what she felt more than she ever had, but did not expect to have to put those feelings into words. Then she thought of something she could at least say, "You are more than my teacher. You are my truest friend."
"Teacher? Friend…" Erik repeated.
'Wife,' Christine's memories of her dream echoed after him.
Erik stood very close to her now. She swore he must be able to hear her heart beating from this short distance. His presence was all encompassing and she was only vaguely aware of her other surroundings.
"Christine," Erik said again, this time sounding like her name caught in his throat. He swallowed hard, "I wonder if you would do me the honor…"
'Oh God, this is it,' her mind frantically thought.
"…of wearing this," Erik continued, and pulled the familiar box from his pocket.
Her heart thudded in her breast and her face felt like it was on fire. Christine swooned momentarily then she regained her facilities and said, "Yes," as he opened the box.
Confusion.
She saw in the moonlight an object at the end of a chain. The firelight glinted off two tiny eyes staring up at her from inside the box in Erik's hand.
She looked up into Erik's eyes and saw pure joy radiating there. He lifted the chain from the box and held it up for her to see. At the end of the necklace was a small white gold mask with two diamonds set for the eyes.
"It's beautiful," she said. She didn't know what else to say to him as he undid the clasp and moved closer to link it behind her neck. She felt a sudden and unexpected wave of disappointment come over her. The night's chill was suddenly apparent and she felt it more acutely as Erik gently lifted her hair away from the chain. The charm felt heavy and icy against her breast.
Erik beamed at her. "I hoped you would like it. It was so unique I could not pass it up." His hands shook slightly as he grasped hers in his own.
"What does this mean?" she managed to get out.
Erik held her hands between them and looked down at them.
"I hoped I might be so bold as to declare my intentions," he whispered.
"Your intentions?" she repeated, still confused.
"As a suitor."
Christine stood still, staring at his warm hands clasping her own. "You wish to court me officially?" Although far from her original assumptions, she still found herself nervously flattered.
"Christine, I realize I am not an ideal man, but I had hoped," Erik's voice faltered, "I have gone about everything with you all wrong. I was hoping to set this right; to be declared, if not openly then at least to you, that I might have even the slightest passing chance you might look at me as something more than your friend and teacher."
Christine could tell that her reaction must not be what he was hoping for. She suddenly felt horribly embarrassed in addition to her disappointment. She had blurted out her answer before she even waited for him to finish. What a fool she was for thinking he would propose to her before they had formally courted. Erik was a gentleman. What had possessed her to think he would do anything otherwise?
"You don't wish this do you?" Erik said, breaking her train of thoughts. Christine could tell he was trying very hard to keep himself from crying again. "You can keep the necklace if you wish. I won't take it back from you, even if you choose not to wear it." He sounded like his momentary rapture was just doused into the icy sea below.
"No, Erik," she blurted out, "It's not that." She stepped away to look at him. "This was just," she continued, "unexpected." She found the word to be truer than she cared to admit.
Erik gazed at her, daring to hope she might not be rejecting him. "Then, you will accept?"
This was not the evening she had prepared for, but she could not deny that it was a step in that very direction, albeit a disappointing let down.
"Yes, Erik. I accept."
Erik beamed, his white teeth glowing to match his mask. He seemed suddenly unsure what to do; as though this possibility never truly existed in his mind. She was sure he had not thought past anything but the question he asked; she could almost hear his thoughts screaming 'now what?' inside his head. Her own mind echoed the question. Aside from Raoul's immature pandering for her favor, she had never been in this situation, nor had any kind of relationship with a man. She was suddenly desperate to speak to Marie.
"It's late," she pointed out needlessly. She could tell he wanted to continue the evening, but even she was unsure how to move forward from this point.
"Would you like me to walk you back to your room?" Erik asked, sounding disappointed.
"No, thank you," Christine replied. "We should probably put out that fire."
Erik said to her, "I will take care of it later. I think I will stay out here awhile longer my dear." She heard new meaning in the address this time he said it. It sounded possessive; and she liked it.
"Then I will say goodnight, Erik."
"Goodnight Christine," was his soft reply. He stared after her wistfully as she started to walk up the hill towards the inn.
She only made it a few steps before she heard him rushing up behind her. "Wait, Christine!" he cried. He clutched her hand spun her around into his arms. Her arms instinctively went around his body, holding him tightly as he buried his face in her hair.
"Oh, Christine," he whispered. "Thank you. Thank you for making me so happy."
She closed her eyes and reveled in the feeling of his embrace. She hoped his emboldened actions would lead further, but he slowly drew himself apart from her, looking into her eyes with such a look of love in them that her breath stilled in her chest. She desperately wanted him to kiss her. She thought for a moment he would; his eyes traced her lips hungrily, but he hesitated, then quickly turned and briskly set off back to the fire by the cliffs leaving her standing there wanting in the beams of the moonlight.