Chapter Five

Born Special

Phantom hands burned marks into her body, she gasped as steam rose from her newly branded skin. Music swirled around her as she felt him taking her in a violent fever. She dare not cry out for fear someone might here. For he had come to her to make her his. As much as his touched burned she longed for more. Her passions were aflame and only he could provide her with the nourishment needed to keep this blazing flame aglow.

Please Angel, please don't hurt me.

Never, never my beautiful rose.

He reached into her core and from it took everything she had to offer, took with out mercy, took with out a second thought. She did not mind because all she needed was this moment. This wonderful moment of passion, their bodies entwined defenseless and silent against the dark night that engulfed them.

Sing for me!

OH GOD MY ANGEL!

Sing for me!

OH PLEASE, BEAUTIFUL ANGEL!

SING FOR ME!

ANGEL!

Christine's eyes fluttered open and she stared into the darkness. She sat up and looked around her, she was alone. How long had she been asleep? Images of the dream filled her head as her hands encircled her narrow body. She shivered, how long had it been since she had had that dream?

A recall of the one night that her and Erik had shared; the night that would eventually bring her such misery. The night that would continuously haunt her waking dreams and cause her to shutter when Raoul pulled near to calm her.

She had promised herself that she would not dwell on it, that it was the only honest thing Christine could give to him that would mean more then her words or gestures could ever mean.

He had left before she had woken and Christine had told her self it had been a dream, a dream that had been so real and so true that she could only live with herself if she pretended that it had never happened.

Even after all these years she still dreamed of the night that the angel of music had taken her and in dong so helped her sleeping bud of desire bloom into a full grown rose. Now that rose was withered with stress and guilt and regret.

So much could have happened that didn't; so much should have happened that couldn't. And now she was falling to pieces, but she needed to remain strong. Christine forced herself up again and stood from the bed. Her weakness had seemed to dissipate.

She felt strong and healthy for the first time in over two years and she looked around the empty room. On the foot of her bed a beautiful dark blue silken robe laid waiting for her slender shoulders. She took it up and slowly slid it on; it felt wonderful against her hot skin.

Christine walked to the door of her bedroom knowing good and well she would probably get an ear full from Antoinette if she was out of bed but Christine was restless and staying in the dark with nothing but that dream to keep her company spooked her.

Upon twisting the door handle she found it wasn't locked and smiled just a little at the prospect of being able to get up and leave. She walked out into the hall and headed for the stairs, she didn't get far before she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Meg, "Christine! You are up! This is wonderful! How do you feel?" The girl asked with caring curiosity.

"Truthfully, I feel wonderful. It must have just been a night fever." Christine said smiling at her friend, Meg's smile faltered and her brow furrowed, "Actually… you were in bed with fever for three days."

Christine's eyes grew wide and she couldn't help but gasp a little, "Three days? Oh dear! How could I possibly have been asleep three days. I don't feel like any time has passed at all."

"Mother made some special broth and we fed it to you three times each day. It was almost impossible to get you to eat at first… but somehow Erik managed to…"

"Erik fed me while I was sick?" Christine asked.

Meg gave a small teasing smile and nodded, "He wouldn't leave your side, rest easy though, mother was the one who bathed you."

"You had to bath me?" Christine asked.

"Not I, mother did, but understand you were sweating a lot, she was worried about bed sores."

Christine slowly nodded and then shivered, "How did… I mean… Erik… How did he get me to eat?" Christine asked.

Meg smiled again that devilish smile and wrapped her arm around Christine's and began to lead her downstairs. "He told us some rubbish about rubbing your throat and creating some kind of reflexive swallow, but I snuck up once and caught him singing to you. He poured it right down your throat." Meg snickered, "He tricked you in a way."

"He sang to me while I was sick?"

"He did, it was so romantic."

Christine shivered and felt her face visibly pale, perhaps that is why she had had the dream, his music had been so near to her, and he had been so near to her. Her soul must have been aware of him and it had fired up the old flame from the night they had spent together.

"Where is Erik now?" Christine asked.

"Oh he went ahead out to the cottage, mother wanted him to fix it up before you got there."

"Fix it up?"

Meg sighed, "Erik wanted to go as well, he said he wanted to try something new… something about running water through pipes… he is so strange sometimes."

"You do not have to remind me." Christine said.

They had arrived at the kitchen and Christine's mouth dropped; the entire kitchen had been gutted and replaced with all new items. Christine looked across the hall into the main sitting and room and saw the same thing had occurred over there.

"What happened… this place looks beautiful." Christine said with a breathless apprehension.

"Erik happened. He is an architect you know, he likes to design. He came up with a great idea. Instead of selling this house to the city so they can destroy it and we can get a few francs he had mother and I clean it and then he replaced everything and turned this house into something worth looking at. His idea was to rent it out to some young couple and that will be our income for now. He plans to rebuild the whole road. If we one by one buy all the houses, fix them up and then rent them out that will start an income that Erik can use to take care of us and possibly fund his Opera in the future."

"That is brilliant…wait… he fixed this entire house in three days?"

Meg giggled, she pulled a chair out for Christine and then sat next to her, "Erik is very capable and very smart. He manages his time wisely, but no he did not manage the entire house. He only had time enough for the kitchen and the sitting room. Once we move out to the new house he will come back and work on this one in his spare time. Once it is done he will rent it out and then start on the next house."

Christine wasn't sure how she felt at this moment, Erik was proving to be even more brilliant then she had known. Apparently it wasn't just music he took pride in but design, architecture, drawing, painting, magic… he was a man of many talents.

She sighed and placed her face in her hands and tried to steady herself, "Christine what is wrong? Do you not feel well?"

Christine was about to speak when she heard the front door open; Madame Giry came in holding a parcel.

"Hello mother. How was town?"

"It was nice. I like this carriage driver, he takes me were I ask with out any odd questions."

"Oh dear! The carriage driver! He hasn't been paid in three days! He will be furious with me!" Christine said standing.

"Relax child, Erik has kept him well paid."

Christine stared at her a moment and then sat down with a huff, "Where is that man getting all this money. Buying medicine for me and food for you and paying my carriage man and then fixing this old house, he must be stealing all the money."

Madame Giry gave a small reassuring smile, "Erik has been alive a long time my dear, if you do not recall he used to get 20,000 francs a month from the managers at the Opera. That can add up over a period of say, twenty years. Erik is not a frivolous spender; he only spends money on what he needs or what he deems worthy. He is no Vicomte but he has plenty of money that will last a long time if he utilizes it correctly."

Christine sat a moment and then gasped, "That would be close to 5,000,000 francs!"

"I never cared for numbers my dear, I just do what he says and he always rewards me in the end. By the way, I am glad to see you are up and doing well. You feel well too then?"

"I do. Thank you Antoinette, your broth did wonders for me. I've never felt so healthy."

"My mother used to make it for me and my brothers when we were sick. An old family recipe, it could get a horse of thirty years to pull five carts at once if needed."

Madame Giry placed her parcel on the table and left the room a moment, she returned with a pair of clippers and snipped the brown twine that held the package together.

"What is it mother?" Meg asked.

The parcel was bigger then most she had seen and didn't look like something heavy or hard. It looked more like cloth would be on the inside and Meg was not far from the truth.

"Do you remember the McBrides? You were talking to me about them the other day." Meg nodded.

"When I showed Erik the way to my home they saw the carriage outside and came and spoke to me. They wish to have us for dinner once we have settled in so that we may catch up with them. I figured you and Christine might like something pretty to wear. Erik helped me pick them out."

"Erik went shopping with you?" Meg asked with a giggle in her voice, "Do not laugh, the man has spectacular taste. But no, he told me what colors would look best on you two and told me the best cut. I must say, his ideas have paid off, you two will look lovely."

Madame Giry pulled the paper back and lifted the first dress up, "Meg, for you my love." It was a beautiful light pink with gold trim and white lace. It had a sash that wrapped around in a darker shade of pink and Meg gasped.

"It looks so beautiful! And expensive!"

"Erik did not spare a cent." Madame Giry said.

She pulled the next dress, which was a dark blue with silver trim and black lace. "For you my dear." Christine eyed the dress and couldn't deny its loveliness. But to think Erik had bought a dress for her, or even just gave Madame Giry the money. It reminded her of the wedding dress he had forced her into.

Her skin prickled a little but she reached out and touched the dress, it was so soft and smooth and looked absolutely stunning, "Beautiful." Christine whispered.

"But mother, what of you?" Madame Giry gave another soft smile, "Erik offered but I told him I had plenty of dresses at the house that I have not touched in years. I prefer to wear my training dresses, I can move better in them."

The girls went back to admiring the dresses and Madame Giry sighed, "I am not sure though how the McBride's will feel about Erik."

"What of him? Just tell them before hand that he was in an accident. He prefers to wear the mask so that he does not offend anyone." Meg chirped.

"I suppose I could try. They know there is a male gentleman residing with us. I told them he was your uncle. So you will need to refer to him as such." Meg nodded and then glanced at Christine.

"What about Christine? Is she to be my sister?"

"No, they know who she is. Her fame was brief but it was not contained to Paris. I will not be surprised my dear if they ask for a song or two during the party."

Christine felt her heart sink, "I cannot sing for them… I have not sung for anyone in a long time. My voice is weak and untrained."

Meg nudged her, "I bet Erik could…"

"No, I could never ask such a thing of him. I was cruel enough to him those two years ago, asking such a favor of him would seem ungrateful and selfish."

"My child, Erik holds no ill will against you. He let you go because he wanted you to be happy. I am sure he would help you regain the very thing that both of you so treasured." Madame Giry said.

Christine felt a tear come to her eyes, "I never deserved his teachings in the first place. Asking for them now is just out of the question."

Meg frowned, "Since when have you started thinking so little of yourself?"

Christine's brow furrowed, was she suddenly thinking less of herself? She hadn't thought she was. The truth of the matter was that Erik was a musical genius, and even though music ran in Christine's blood she would have never gone as far as she had with out Erik's fine tutelage.

She had needed him; he had not needed her, because his music would still be beautiful, and scary, and passionate and fierce and powerfully seductive with out her. Where as Christine would never be able to have sounded like she had with out him. Her voice was good but with out his music she was just another singer trying to make it.

"I am not thinking less of myself, compared to Erik I am not even a ink blot in the stage notes. With out him I would have never made it as far as I did. I needed him but he never truly needed me."

Madame Giry gave her a kind smile and patted Christine's shoulder reassuringly, "He may not have needed you to write music, but he needed you and you alone to sing it. He could create beautiful music before you came into his life, but once he heard you sing for that first time, no one else would do to sing his pieces. Your voice is what he created his music for child. With out your voice he has no reason to create the music that you speak so highly of."

Christine had never thought about it that way and she gave a small smile back and then looked to the dress, "He has wonderful taste. And he knows what I like."

"Erik has always been one for knowing things. He is a genius after all."

Christine nodded and stood; she crossed to the dress and raised it up pulling it away from the table and admiring everything about it. "When are we leaving?"

Madame Giry was silent for a moment as if she was thinking of the correct thing to say, in the end she replied by saying, "When ever you are well enough to be moved."

Christine felt her heart speed up a little, "I am well enough now. I barely felt sick when I got up today."

Madame Giry nodded, "We are waiting for a correspondence from Erik. Once he says the house out in the country is ready we shall leave. Until then you must rest." Madame Giry said gently touching Christine's arm.

The girl reluctantly nodded and then Meg bounced up beside her, "We should try them on! I want to see how beautiful you will be!"

"Not as beautiful as you." Christine said smiling at her friend.

"Come!" Meg hauled Christine from the room and Madame Giry smiled after them.

Erik admired his handy work. He had prepared four rooms, all of which were meant to compliment the personality of the person they lay waiting for. He had just finished the most intricate room.

Christine's.

He had wanted to capture every aspect of her in this room. He had resolved to use soft light colors, with laces and flowers. He had given her the room with the biggest window to allow in the most amount of light and made sure that the view was pleasant.

He had managed to find a large canopy and had taken pain-staking amounts of time to carve complex images, symbols, designs, and other such things into the thick oak posts and head bored. He found the most perfect color of lace to hang from the canopy and tied the lace to the four posts with a thick piece of white ribbon.

He found a very soft thick rug to put on the wooden floor, which he had managed to polish to a ridiculous shine. He had retiled the small fireplace in the room and added a carved shelf right above it where he placed flowers and a jewelry box and other such things.

Erik had searched through the old barn in the back and had found a beautiful oak desk, which he had sanded down and repainted to shine a dazzling white. He placed this near the window and placed yet another vase of flowers on the left corner closest to the light.

The walls themselves he had painted a off white and around the top he had removed the old crown molding and painted a light blue design which wound and spun like waves or vines.

But it was the ceiling he was the most proud of. Christine had always talked about her life in the cottage by the sea and though he had never personally seen it Christine had, before Erik had taken her the first time below ground, told him stories of the old house. Her details were astonishing and Erik remembered every word she had spoken.

It had taken a sizeable amount of his time, but he had managed to find enough paints of the right color to fill her ceiling with a mural, which followed her detailed stories to the exact words.

A cottage on a cliff, which led down to a beach, beyond the beach, was the vast ocean, which looked to be dancing to a music no one could hear. He stared up at it and wished he could visit this place in person one day. It looked so beautiful in his painting, he couldn't even imagine what he must look like in person.

He gazed at the room and realized something was missing but he wasn't sure what. Erik stepped back even further to stand in the doorway and tried to figure out what else the room could possibly need.

"Desk, bed, fireplace, ceiling, rug, window…ah ha!" He said to himself. Erik left the room and a few minutes later returned with a set of curtains, which matched the lace of the canopy bed. Ten minutes later the windows had beautiful lace curtains, which he pulled back and tied to a knob in the wall he had just installed. He kept with the theme and used thick slices of white ribbon to tie them back and then once again returned to the door where he turned and tried to admire his work.

"This room will be your haven since I could not be." Erik turned and shut the door behind him.

Upon descending the steps heard a knock on front door, he stopped on the third step from the floor and stared in that direction. Who could that be? The neighbors knew that Madame Giry was not at the household at the moment. Did they not understand the concept of no one is home?

The knock sounded again and then the bell rang, "Damn." Erik reached into his pocket and pulled out a large piece of black silk that he had used in Madame Giry's room. He wrapped it around the deformed side of his face at an angle so he could still see from his good eye. He approached the door and reluctantly opened the door.

Before him stood a young boy, probably no older then twelve, the child stared up at him in wander.

"What?" Erik asked with annoyance.

The child swallowed nervously and then raised a shaky hand and handed Erik letter, Erik snatched it away and went to shut the door but the boy made a odd noise and Erik peered back down at him waiting.

"Were you in an accident?"

Suddenly it was Erik's turn to stare in a nervous surprise, "That is none of your business." Erik said. He didn't shut the door however, which was an odd thing to do.

"No." Erik replied.

"Were you born special?" the boy asked.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to ask so many questions?" Erik snapped.

The boy's eyes suddenly looked curious, "I do not have a mother."

This stopped Erik short, suddenly his inner rage was deflated and he looked upon the child with pity. It was an odd sensation having pity for someone else, he wasn't used to it. Reluctantly Erik got down on his knee and sighed, "Yes, I was born different."

The boy came closer and cocked his head to the side as if the change in position would help him understand, "You were born special. Like me." The boy raised his left hand, which was the opposite hand from which he had handed the letter.

Erik stared at his hand in shock, he hadn't even noticed until now; the boy's left hand was horribly deformed. His arm looked normal until you got to his elbow and which point it seemed to shrink, the skin looked vainly and pale and it was easy to see that the muscle that should have formed didn't. His hand was so small that the fingers hadn't even bothered to form and it was as if a stump had been shoved into his thin frail bone at birth.

"My papa says that I was born special. I am unique. No one is like me."

Erik didn't know what to say, or how to handle this situation, "Can I see your special face?" the boy asked in a curious voice.

He stared at the child who was no longer acting scared and with out even thinking about it removed the silk from his face. The child didn't run but Erik could sense how still he grew. He was waiting for a scream, or a cry or even for the child to run. But all he did was stare and study the mangled deformed face before him.

"You are really special."

Erik shook his head and stood, "You have no idea." Erik then thanked the boy for the letter and shut the door no longer wishing to think about the encounter, which had just occurred.

But try as he might he couldn't get the image of the child's deformed hand from his mind. Is that how Christine felt the first time she saw his face? Was the image of his face burned into her mind like a scar that would never heal?

Erik needed to finish working on the water system, this house had no pipes to carry water and he found that having such things made life easier. It would take to much time to cut open the walls, the easiest thing to do would be to put the pipes on the outside of the house but that would look odd.

Perhaps if he planted some vines right under the pipes in a year's time they would be hidden. That would be the best option. He would spend the next two days placing the pipes and then he would finish the bathing room. Then he could send for the others.

Erik sighed and started the laborious task of laying the pipe and figuring out how to connect to the well in the back. He would need to construct a pump… perhaps there was more metal in the barn.

Two days and then everything would be ready; everything would be perfect for Christine.

"Christine."

A/n: What do you think? Good chapter? Let me know!