A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Made me smile. Here, I'll be introducing a brief, rare tender moment between Erik and Maggie. Enjoy.
"You're late."
"I know. I had something to take care of."
"I see." Was it just me or did he sound more bitter than usual?
"Sor-ry." I put up my hands in mock defense.
"We must hurry, I have a surprise tonight."
I paused in removing my cap and hair pins, to look at him but he was already several paces ahead, which resulted in me jogging to catch up. "What kind of surprise?"
"What good would a surprise be if I told you? Initially, it was intended only for Christine, but I didn't relish the thought of leaving you alone with all my valuables."
"So…it's outside the Opera?" He merely shrugged, reveling in the torturous suspense he was keeping me in and said nothing more until we reached his house.
We ate a light supper (at least Christine and I did, Erik never ate much if at all), after which, Erik revealed his surprise. I stood off to the side pretending to be immensely interested in some of his collectables, many of which looked foreign and expensive.
"Christine, my dear, how would you like to go out this evening?" I watched Christine's face radiate with excitement for the first time since I'd been there.
"Oh yes, very much, Erik!"
"Don't you have anything else to wear?" The comment was directed at me.
"What's wrong with it? It's a perfectly adequate and sensible outfit."
"It's your only outfit."
Before I could come up with a suitable retort, Christine piped up, "She can wear something of mine. I've been dying to get her in a dress again." And she dragged me and my feeble protests into her Louis-Phillipe room.
After we all dressed warmly, Erik led us through a passage way I'd never known existed, and after many twists and turns I began to think we weren't really going outside at all. Finally, I could see a very faint light ahead and felt the stir of a small breeze in my hair as we approached a tall iron gate.
"This is the entrance from the Rue Scribe side." Erik informed us.
On the other side of the gate a brougham awaited our arrival. The faint light had come from the moon overhead and amidst the patches of snow and freezing night, it seemed like a block of ice illuminating the city's relentless winter. The frigid night air nipped at us and I tugged my flimsy olive green jacket tighter around me as inconspicuously as possible. Erik, who was helping Christine into the brougham noticed.
"Don't you have anything better to wear than that old rag? It's the middle of winter for god sake."
Straightening in attempt to mask how cold I really felt, I replied rather sourly, "Oh yes, I do in fact…in the elaborate wardrobe I keep in my pocket! Did it ever occur to you that vagabonds tend to travel light?"
He stared at me with unreadable eyes before sighing and I immediately felt guilty about my rotten attitude. We were out for a pleasant night ride, no reason to go out of my way to ruin it.
"Sorry," I muttered sincerely before slipping past him. Before I could step up into the brougham however, I felt a weight on my shoulders and glanced down to see his black woolen cloak placed on them. I paused on the step, looking back at him in slight bewilderment before accepting, gripping it tightly and gratefully to my petite body.
We stopped at the bridge over the Seine and got out. Christine was like a giddy child, gliding from side to side of the bridge, taking in the tranquil beauty of the numerous stars above as well as the city lights below them. I too, gazed at the stars with her. Enchanting as they were I thought it much better to view them from the rooftop. Up there they seemed to take up the entire sky, stretching on forever, although it was fairly difficult to catch them lately, due to the stormy clouds. I looked back to the brougham to find Erik's intense gaze on Christine and I. In the darkness, his eyes were almost like stars themselves; stars with an unfathomable expression. The moment they made contact with mine he shook himself out of his daze and slowly trailed over to Christine.
I stared into the icy river, the inky black depths absorbing my thoughts, blocking out Christine's voice and Erik's occasional input. Chunks of ice bobbed around the columns of the bridge's foundation. It was an all-too-familiar scene.
"Hurry up, Joseph, Maggie's goin' ta beat ya!" Danny cried.
"Never!" Joseph laughed, running behind his siblings with a pair of ice skates slung over his shoulder.
"Give up, old man!" I laughed.
We strapped our skates on as quickly as we could. Danny was first one on the ice, followed by Joseph, then me. We had such a grand time that day. The sight of us teetering, slipping, the sound of our boisterous laughter still rings in my ears. But then there are other sounds, overpowering sounds that drown out the happy ones.
"Oh my God, Danny!" My scream.
"Pa! Pa, help!" Joseph's scream.
Scream after scream, followed by the sharp scraping of blades on ice. And all the dreaded lapses of chilling silence in between—the most deafening sound of all.
I didn't even notice the few tears that slid down my cheek until Erik's voice crashed through my reverie.
"Are you feeling ill?"
Startled, my head snapped up to see what I could've mistaken for concern in those glowing orbs. I shook my head, hastily turning my face away to hide the fact that I had been crying.
"What's wrong, then?" I couldn't tell if he sounded determined or annoyed.
"Nothing you need concern yourself about."
"Fine."
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and let it go with a soft 'whoosh'. When I regained some composure I glanced over at him again but his attention was drawn out beyond the Seine.
"I make swell company tonight, don't I?"
"You have a lot on your mind I imagine." It felt so comforting to hear his soothing voice when it wasn't harsh, unfeeling, or yelling at me.
"The stars are so amazing out here." I changed the subject, looking up at the objects of conversation, partly to distract him from my tear-stained face and to swallow back threatening ones, brimming in the corners.
"They've often been a comfort to me," he replied. "An earthly beauty I never grow tired of."
I nodded in agreement. "But they're nothing compared to the ones in Ireland."
He gave a small smile. "A more extensive version I'd assume. No city lights to smother them."
"Our Da, he used to tell us as children that each one represented the tears, prayers, and wishes from all over the world, waiting to be answered."
"Your father sounds like a very idealist man."
I couldn't help giving a light chuckle. "He was quite the dreamer. Still is. Not at all like Mum or Joseph…" It felt wrong for some obscure reason to mention his name around Erik. After all, it was he who murdered him. There was an awkward, uncomfortable silence.
"The only thing Jo ever dreamed of was getting away from Ireland." I continued bitterly.
"Which was obviously accomplished."
"The opportunity, more or less came his way."
Again, quiet. Christine, who had wandered to the other end of the bridge, now sauntered back, the content expression of freedom never left her face.
"It's time to go." Erik announced and we reluctantly headed back to the awaiting brougham.
It all ended too quickly. We took a different route back to the Opera. Neither of us said much. Erik asked if we would like to do this again, sometime. I smiled and Christine's gold curls bounced as she nodded eagerly. The streets we traveled down were darker compared to the main city streets and so the moon absolutely gleamed, bathing the neighborhood in a bluish glow. Christine rolled the window down and leaned out. Her already beautiful features enhanced by the moonlight, making her appear almost ethereal. Erik must have thought so, too. He couldn't take his eyes off her and I felt a twinge of some unnatural feeling in my gut, which I would come to realize later was the bitter sting of jealousy.
Now, it's normal to want something somebody else has but I wasn't like the upper class girls who practically thrived in covetous lifestyles. I learned early on how to be perfectly satisfied with my lot in life as all Buquets did. In this light, we learned what it meant to really "live," what's worth living for, not take anything for granted. And so, while I did occasionally wonder what it would be like to have some of the nice things other girls had, I had never really been one to get jealous—until that night.
For the first time, I saw, really saw all Christine had. Beautiful face, nice clothes, pretty trinkets, friends, the voice of an angel, handsome men at her beck and call…and I envied her. Next to her, I felt like nothing, I had nothing to offer and that made me aware of just how alone I was and probably always would be.
My melancholy thoughts were interrupted by a distant voice, shouting after the carriage. Christine's head turned sharply before a combination of confusion, then recognition, then horror dawned on her face and she yanked her head back in, frantically rolling up the window. As Erik turned to peek out the tiny oval window behind him I looked to Christine for some kind of explanation. She met my eyes briefly and mouthed "Raoul" before glancing back at Erik, then at her lap. Erik had turned back around and was watching her intently.
"Why, what ever is the matter, Christine?"
"Nothing! I—I just felt a bit chilly, that's all."
The expression in the those catty eyes shifted so swiftly I couldn't make out if he was just playing ignorant and toying with her or if he was truly upset. It didn't take long to find out.
"What a coincidence, is it not, that your boy should be out so late?"
I could see Christine becoming increasingly uncomfortable and she tried to hide it by looking out the window.
"I can't imagine what he's doing out here at this hour," she replied nervously.
His eyes narrowed. "Can't you? You seem quite anxious, Christine," he nearly growled her name, "Why so worried? I'm sure he was just enjoying a midnight stroll, right?"
"Erik, it's not--," she began but Erik cut her off.
"Driver!" He pounded on the roof of the brougham. "Speed up." Not another word was exchanged the rest of the way.