A/N: So sorry for delay in getting this out to you. It's becoming tougher and tougher to keep the pace up and I don't want the quality to suffer. Anyway Happy birthday Bella! Enjoy.
Chapter 20
Erik enfolded Bella's gift in sheet after sheet of pristine white tissue paper, making a bow with a long length of black grosgrain silk ribbon. It was impossible to disguise the present underneath but Meg had insisted it still needed to be wrapped. That was the surprise part of it apparently; not that he had any experience of gifts – either giving or receiving - but it was of vital importance to Meg that it be done properly. Birthdays were another mystery. He had no memory of ever having one and yet he had a birth date just like everyone else; in fact that was probably the only thing he had in common with the rest of mankind.
From what she had told him and from what he could hear of the shrieks, some sort of party was underway below them complete with several of Bella's school friends involving the consumption of vast amounts of sugary foods. It was to culminate in a cake complete with candles – one for each year. This was how life was celebrated apparently; every passing year marked with a flame. It put him in mind of Meg and how she lit candles every time she went into a church. Hypothetically he would have thirty-five at his next birthday - a veritable inferno - and assumed the date would roll by this year much as it had every other year since he was born, silently and unheeded. No celebration, no musings by his mother on how the day he was born had been the best day of her life, her greatest achievement. Antoinette said it apparently - Meg had told him this was the one time every year she felt as if her mother really cared for her.
How long does it take to wrap a present for goodness sake? They would need to go down soon as Bella's friends would be going home shortly. Erik had been closeted in his room for hours lately and today was no exception. Doubtless he was busy making new masks but Meg was strangely put out by his long absences, having become accustomed to their verbal jousting. Even when he was in an irregular humour he generally amused her in some way but lately his prolonged absences were beginning to irritate her.
He had never left the house without her but a few mornings ago he had informed her politely yet in a voice that brooked no argument that he was going out "on business" and would be back before lunch. Before she had a chance to enquire further, he had vanished, leaving her agape and reeling in a cloud of sandalwood and something altogether more dangerous – determined Erik. Of course when he returned with Bella's present she knew just what business he'd been referring to but the whole incident had only served to add to her increasing awareness around him of late. She knew it had been festering for quite some time, clawing at her relentlessly despite her best efforts to ignore it. Long before her mortification in the dome, before that bizarre moment in San Marco when she had felt she was floating above the ground, held in space by the force of his gaze; no, before they had even left Paris, having spent less than twenty-four hours with him she had felt odd. It had started in her mother's bedroom with the Phantom.
I can't be! He can't possibly mean more to me than another person to talk with or share meals with?
This slightly nauseous feeling in her stomach had nothing to do with eating something off but she was definitely coming down with something. Her efforts to outmanoeuvre it so far had failed. She knew it was pointless to fight anymore, that lying to herself had proved fruitless so it had to stop.
Meg knew she cared about him but she had understood it as a wish for his welfare, a hope that he would heal and begin to live again. And it had been. Until she could no longer ignore that there was something else creeping in beside her heartfelt concern for her friend's wellbeing.
He's almost twice my age for goodness sake and the least suitable candidate I could have picked for this, not that I've had any choice in the matter but I don't suppose anyone really does. But she had seen what no one else ever had, possibly even Christine, that there was a real feeling, thinking man with an actual heart underneath the machinations of the cape and the mask and the cynical sneer. And I know what he's done, what he's capable of and yet...he's more than that, so much more. Oh God!
She had fallen prey to the spells he wove when he took up his violin and made her sing like no one else ever had. He had taught her about Venice, about a place he had never been but in his dreams. He listened to what she had to say; her opinions seemed to matter to him and they never had to anyone before.
He finished my ribbons!
Her heart constricted painfully as she remembered waking with a slightly stiff neck hours after he had begun sketching her only to find a rug draped over her legs and an empty room. Lighting the lamp in her bedroom she had spotted her satin shoes in the centre of her pillow, their ribbons folded neatly around the middle. She had not remembered getting further than a few stitches or bringing them back upstairs but when she unravelled them she knew Erik had done it. Perfect, tiny neat stitches marched across the satin ribbons exactly as they should.
And still none of this explained why or how things had changed. Meg knew it had something to do with the way he looked at her, not that he was looking at her any differently than he always had but she knew she had become more conscious of it. Unnervingly he always looked her in the eye and she found it impossible to look away; it almost felt as if he could bore under her skin and see everything that was swirling around inside her. It was quite astonishing the things that man could do with his eyes alone and that was even before the rest of his face got involved!
She found herself looking forward to those few minutes every morning when she could touch his face, knowing she was incredibly privileged to be allowed to do so. It made her feel slightly ashamed that she took longer than was strictly necessary, letting her fingers linger in his soft hair and because he seemed to like it, raking her fingers over his scalp. She knew what that felt like. She hung on his every word even when he was being sarcastic and blatantly teasing her and knew no greater joy than when she exacted a smile from him. They were a rare and precious thing, like shooting stars and she found herself wanting to make a wish every time she saw one.
Her mother would have known what to make of it...yet she knew with absolute certainty that having recognised her feelings for what they were would tell her to quash whatever it was that had gotten inside her, whatever little seed had taken hold. She would want her to snuff it out, repress it, and kill it for it could only bring pain and sorrow. Meg knew she could no more stop the tide; she sensed that once Erik had gotten under her skin it would be nigh on impossible to get him out. Poor Christine! She felt a measure of sympathy for the younger girl and the mental turmoil she must be going through.
No, her mother mustn't get even a whiff of it. She would not understand for even she who had known him long before her still did not know the Erik that she did. What was she to do? She knew her mother's voice in her head spoke the truth. "Ignore it, suffocate it, deny it." Yet how could she kill something that made her feel a little more worthy than before, a little less invisible? Because it will hurt in the end, that's why and the higher you climb the further you will fall...in the end.
She was on her own, totally and completely on her own and the only other person who she would have wanted to share this revelation with – her best friend - must never find out.
"Oh you came – Bella will be so thrilled. You just missed the madness." Rosa's entire face lit up in welcome, taking in the eager smile of her young friend and noticing the hesitation in her companion. She knew Signor Erik didn't go out much except with Meg so perhaps he wasn't comfortable in other's company? That frosty demeanour would stop most people in their tracks but the little blonde girl seemed to be well able for him.
"Elena's here and she was just telling me all about her last fitting! Meg, you would not believe the trouble we had trying to find -"
Erik watched as Rosa took Meg by the arm and led her into the house to join the beaming bride-to-be. At that moment Bella came rushing out dressed in her birthday finery complete with long ribbons in her hair.
"Signor Erik! You came to my party! But you missed all the games. We had 'Pin the Tail on the Donkey' but the boys kept moving the donkey and I was blindfolded so I got dizzy and fell down."
Erik bent down to match the little girl's height. "Perhaps I should have come earlier...then I could have assisted you." Were all little boys that mean? Had he been? No. That would have required him being a child to begin with and he didn't think he had ever been that carefree. Don't poison her day with thoughts of your miserable past, just give her the gift and make her smile.
"Someone told me it was your birthday so I believe this is for you." With a flourish he pulled the package he had been hiding from behind his back and presented it to her, holding his breath as she took it.
Bella's eyes widened in surprise as she took the heavy white parcel from his hands. "What is it?"
"I have absolutely no idea. Why don't you open it and see?" Erik smiled at the pointless question, for if he told her then the oh-so-important element of surprise would be lost and Meg would kill him. He waited nervously as she pulled the silken bow undone and peeled back the delicate tissue to reveal the unmistakeable leather case beneath. His nerves dissipated as he saw the realisation and the accompanying joy on her face as she popped the clasps to reveal the treasure inside.
"Oh! It came true, it really did! How did you know? You must be magic!" Bella barely touched the honey coloured wood of the small violin and then launched herself at Erik with such a force that he almost fell backwards. Tiny arms wound round his neck and her head found the hollow between his chin and his shoulder. Astonished at her sudden outpouring of affection, he felt he should somehow reciprocate and gingerly placed both hands at her back. He had no idea what she meant, what he was supposed to have known, what came true or why on earth she thought he was magic but in that second he almost believed that he was.
Meg put down the tea she had been handed in the kitchen, breaking away from mother and daughter and walked to the back door that led to the courtyard. Erik had not followed them inside and she was mindful of the fact that this was probably a little awkward for him. She didn't want him to feel abandoned but Rosa had commandeered her for talk of tulle and favours and she had followed like a sheep. Now she saw with eyes that filled too quickly, the two dark heads together in the courtyard. He had obviously given Bella her gift and she had obviously liked it for she had him in the grips of a hug the like of which she knew Erik had never experienced before. The kind only a child could give. She tried to swallow the lump that formed in her throat and banish the thoughts that the image had conjured in her mind. He was unknowingly effortless with Bella and suspected that the little girl would be no exception. Stop it Meg, don't go there.
She started as she felt someone behind her then relaxed as she realised it was only Marcello, greeting her with a warm smile and squeezing her arms as he kissed both cheeks.
"Signorina, you bring us more sunshine every day with your smile! I see you brought the sad Signor with you today...and he is being smothered by my daughter. Perhaps I should go rescue him?"
Meg smiled wryly. "The Signor rarely needs rescuing and could probably do with being smothered by your adorable daughter a little more. He has not had much exposure to children but they seem to take to him all the same. Perhaps though he would appreciate some male company? I am all he has to talk to most days and I'm sure I get on his nerves."
"Somehow I doubt that you do." Marcello pinched her cheek and with a backward wink shuffled past her into the courtyard where she could see Erik finally extricating himself from Bella's clutches while she in turn held up her birthday present for her father to admire.
"You know you are my daughter's hero Signor? She never stops speaking of you and how you talk to her like she is all grown up – you have a champion for life in her." Marcello liked the Signorina's strange friend even though he always seemed aloof and standoffish. He was a hit with his little girl and took the time to listen to her and that meant everything in his book.
"I only speak to her as I would to anyone else. She is a very special child and a rare gift." Erik's heart swelled as he remembered the feel of her unhesitant little arms around his neck, giving him an unasked for moment of pure joy. He felt like a tiny piece of the darkness inside him had been eradicated by the very fact that someone so small and innocent should come to him and give him affection so readily.
"That she is, but aren't they all?"
Erik could only nod vaguely at the older man while his mind taunted the opposite. No. Not all. I may have been rare but never a gift. Not to anyone and least of all to the woman who bore me.
His destructive, spiralling thoughts were interrupted by the emergence of the ladies from the house and the arrival of the Pellizzari's son, Federico. He couldn't help the tension that crept into his jaw at the sight of the smiling, bright eyed young man. His eye narrowed and tracked hawk like on the man as he planted a noisy kiss on his mother's cheek and then swept his eldest sister into a twirl. Round and round he swung the girl that looked so much like Christine. And with her hair caught up like that and Federico twirling her just so...it could have been the opera house roof.
Fresh pain delivered straight into his veins at the memory of the hurtful words s used to betray him that night under the stars. Hidden behind the huge bronze angel he had heard every word.
"So distorted, so deformed, it was hardly a face..."
He was almost glad he had heard even though it gutted his soul to know how Christine really thought of him, after everything he had given her. The knowledge was useless to him when the pain was sharp and new but now he used it, now it helped him understand a little more each day that she was never for him and never would be. He was also grateful that he was in possession of the more important fact that not everyone thought as she had. Meg for one. Bella for another and although she had never actually seen his ruined face, she believed that the angels had loved him too much.
"Signor? Have I lost you already! Those women never stop about that confounded wedding and if I am honest I cannot wait for it to be over."
Marcello had raised his voice slightly to pull Erik from the trance he had gone into and he now noticed that Bella had become the object of her brother's affections. The three women were huddled in the corner in the shade of the pergola, heads together and twittering like birds at a fountain.
"They must have a lot to talk about, dresses and such. I suspect Meg is revelling in being a part of it." He would never begrudge her the chance to spend time with the Pellizzari women as there were likely things she couldn't talk to him about, things that she would have shared with her mother or her best friend. While he wouldn't mind listening to anything she had to say he sincerely doubted she would want to regale him with details of bonnets or corsetry, though he could doubtless make a far better stab of altering the latter than any of the three assembled females.
Marcello didn't miss how the serious Frenchman had referred to his young companion. It was entirely familiar but tallied with what Rosa had told him about the real reason the two had left Paris. The poor man. He knew just how it was and hoped, indeed believed that the little blonde would rain sunshine on him just as she was doing now with his entire family.
"If I hear about sugared almonds or processional music once more I will have to leave the country!" Marcello exclaimed in mock disgust then added gravely, "It cannot be easy for you listening to all of this talk of weddings considering..."
What! Had Meg told him the story she had re-fabricated? Was he to be a figure of sympathy and pity to everyone? Erik's gaze narrowed on the group of three women and felt more than a little irritated at cutting such a pathetic figure. He was sick of it.
"She told you then...about Paris?" Erik ground out the words through gritted teeth.
Marcello observed the tall, broad figure beside him visibly gain in height and noticed his stare boring a hole in the side of the Signorina's head. He also noted her instant awareness of it and the questioning eyebrow she sent him in return.
"She did not betray you Signor" Marcello stated gently, "Rosa told me; we are married you know. It is nothing to be ashamed of either; it happens to the best of us I'm afraid."
"It does?" Incredulous that Marcello could have any concept of what he had gone through, he realised that of course he was only party to a much edited version of the truth. He also felt guilty having wrongly accused Meg; he should know better by now.
"Would it surprise you to know that Rosa was not my first choice? Oh yes, my heart had already been trampled by another before I finally met her and though she was not my first love, the fact that she is my last love is what really matters, don't you think? Because Signor, when I am on my deathbed it is the woman I lived my life with, who bore my children and held my hand though all the good and bad times who I will take with me in my heart, not the one who first broke it." If he could give this strange man a little hope that all was not lost, that life didn't end, that he could find happiness again then he would do it, especially if it put a smile on the Signorina's face.
Stunned into silence by the jolly Italian's confession, Erik could only nod quietly at the other man. He seemed to sense his unease because he turned his attention to the interaction between his youngest daughter and his son, leaving him to his thoughts.
Marcello couldn't know all that he had been through. He hadn't taken a life or burned the only home he had known to the ground, yet he shared something real in common with him. He had loved and lost. And then unbelievably, he had loved again! Of course his own situation was entirely different. Marcello did not have a face that terrified, two murders weighing on his conscience or a past forged in despair and littered with horrors. That would certainly tip the scales in the Italian's favour.
He didn't know if he would be able to expose his heart and soul to that kind of torture again even knowing that others had done it and survived. Who was he fooling? He had only ever loved from afar, through a mirror; abusing his position abominably. He finally realised his intended had had no real choice in the matter. What did he know of what Marcello spoke, what he shared with Rosa – a life lived together with children between them? What kind of life could he have given Christine? Had he even thought about what he would do if she had stayed?
Not for one second had he dwelled on the reality of what happened after, how the actual particulars of sharing his life with someone would play out. He supposed it was testament to his mental state near the end that he had forgone his habitual meticulous planning. He had neglected to plan the most important part; the happy ever after. Except it wouldn't have been. He would always know how Christine really felt about his face and that the real reason she had stayed was pity. That knowledge would have truly broken him, no matter how much he knew he would have tried to ignore it. Her pity had unmanned him in the worst possible way and he hated it. Pity meant being seen for what he wasn't rather than what he was, what he was lacking not what he had. It was a most destructive emotion doled out freely in glances cast by people he passed on the street who could not possibly understand. How utterly ridiculous it all seemed now! What was he thinking? How could anyone live like he had?
Not for him that normal dream that Marcello spoke of. It was as unattainable as the lost side of his face. Who would he take with him in his heart when he breathed his last? He only knew now that he didn't want it to be Christine, he didn't want her to be all he could take with him.
Meg couldn't understand what had brought out the Phantom but he had crashed Bella's party all the same. She had felt the hair stand to attention on the back of her neck under the gaze she knew would be smouldering out of his left eye. Had Marcello said something to upset him? Seconds after she had looked over in concern his face had relaxed once more and she felt able to breathe again. Did he have any idea how obvious it was when he did that? She had been giving Elena a detailed account of her recent trip to Signora Villani's workrooms when she had felt the change in his mood but fortunately her two companions didn't seem to notice and Marcello had just handed him a glass of wine so she supposed all was right in his world again.
Now Bella was shrieking in excitement as her brother picked her up and whirled her around above his head, her ribbons flying out behind her. No sooner had he put her back on her feet than she evaded capture and darted off across the courtyard, running behind Marcello for sanctuary.
Meg noticed Erik watching the little girl's antics in wonder and silently cursed the powers that be for what he had been denied.
Federico was being the proper brother, letting her evade him just as he caught up to her each time. Now she saw her come charging at full speed towards them and Rosa and Elena had obviously been party to this game before because they quickly stood aside leaving her open to Bella's attack. As the little girl spun round her skirts she saw Federico stalking towards her and his prey in a slow deliberate way that was eliciting further shrieks from Bella who was hiding behind her. She assumed he would just chase around her to catch his sister but instead he kept coming towards her, a spark of mischief in his eyes. Grinning cockily from ear to ear he came to a halt not a foot in front of her and barely registered the little person bouncing with excitement behind her.
"Signorina, I believe you have something for me?" Federico let the words fall slowly from his mouth, dripping with innuendo.
Meg swallowed nervously at the not altogether innocent words – he was being blatantly suggestive! She felt the dangerous shift from child's game to something a little more serious and didn't quite know how to react. He had always been so casually friendly and she didn't want to hurt or offend the young man, yet any sign of capitulation on her part could be misconstrued.
From across the courtyard Erik had watched indulgently as little Bella had dodged her brother, moving with the agility of any child her age. It had been bittersweet to see the affection between the two even if for this game they were sworn enemies – captor and prisoner. But his grudging respect for the Pellizzari heir ground to an abrupt halt as he watched in horror as he decided to use the harmless game for less altruistic purposes.
Damn him! Erik recognised the Meg's awkward shrug, subtly twisting her body away from the Italian. He knew enough about body language to know for certain that the younger man's attentions were unasked for.
Get AWAY from her!
If that snivelling little gondola-poling rat laid so much as a finger on her he would rip his digits out. Clenching his fists so his knuckles cracked and gnashing his teeth until his jaw ached, he prepared to unleash the Phantom.
A/N: Cliffie! Sorry guys, had to do it.