Hi, everyone! I hope you're all enjoying the holidays. This chapter is a bit darker than some of the others, but that's just the way it turned out. I hope you all continue to enjoy E/C's journey, though.
Thanks to everyone who is reading. Thanks to MadLizzy for editing.
Read and Review!
It was a little surreal when she first obtained a job as an apprentice singer in an opera company. Granted, she was only given minor roles and a low salary, but the event was still special. Erik wasn't surprised after she told him. He only said, "It is about damned time."
Erik always accompanied her when she performed in the city. Financially, they were doing well with his music—not rich by any means, but she and Erik never desired too many material possessions. They did spend a small amount on travel, choosing medium-priced hotel rooms and taking cabs to their destinations.
As she rested in the plush hotel bed with him after one of her performances, she decided that these days were so much better spent like this rather than in hospitals, shrouded in pain and worry. What would it have been like, standing over an unconscious Erik with bandages on his face and tubes sticking out of his arms while cold machines hummed around him? She preferred him strong and alive beside her.
Christine rolled over and smiled, feeling jubilant and playful. "I sang for you," she stated.
"Only for me," he agreed.
"Did I do well tonight?"
"Angels wept," he replied.
"That bad?" she joked.
"Wretched girl." At that moment, Cordie jumped on the bed and strolled between them. She was nearly full grown into a white fluffy ball—with an ego to match her size. They always attempted to find hotels that allowed pets. "Christine is mine," Erik informed the cat. "She may pet you, but she is not yours." Christine snorted, watching as the cat defiantly rubbed against her arm. Erik glared. "Someday the feline will be taught a lesson."
Christine knew he wasn't serious. Erik had taken a liking to the cat; they seemed to enjoy teasing each other in a half-hearted battle for household dominance.
All in all, that year was a joyful one, and everything seemed to fall into place.
It was over the next few years that several more trials sprang up. The first two were smaller ordeals, and she was proud of Erik for getting through them with a clear mind. The last battle—well, it was not so easy. Many tears were shed, and many angry words were exchanged.
The first tribulation came one sunny Saturday morning. As she was making pancakes, Christine heard a soft cry come from the basement. She instantly recognized the voice as Erik's, despite the fact that she'd never heard him make a similar noise. It was a beautiful, mournful sound—almost like the howl of a wolf. After dropping the pan and turning off the stove, she rushed down to the middle of the stairs. "Erik?"
He didn't reply, and her stomach clenched.
"Erik?" she began again, taking several more steps. "This had better not be a trick to get me down here." He'd called her down a few times for his own enjoyment. Not that she minded being seduced to the basement. But it was seven in the morning, and she had cooking grease splattered on her extra large t-shirt. It wasn't exactly the most sensual of scenarios. "Erik?"
He was standing in front of the glowing fish tank, silently staring down at it with hunched shoulders. Her heart fell as she instantly knew what had happened. One of the fishes had passed away during the night. "Oh, Erik," she murmured. Christine sighed and came to stand beside him so that their shoulders touched. "Which one?" She was often unable tell them apart, but Erik always could.
"Juliet," he murmured.
"Oh." She took his hand. "Well…I guess it was that time."
"She could have lived longer," he murmured. "Perhaps the tank was not cleaned often enough. Or perhaps their food was of an inferior quality."
"No, no," she protested. "I think those fish probably had a better life than most. They were very lucky. My dad bought me some when I was five, and I'm not sure they even lasted half a year."
"Mm."
Christine attempted to comfort him, but Erik still didn't say much for an entire week. He played his music and sat around the house, staring at the walls and floor. It was not lost on Christine that her husband, who had killed more people than she ever wanted to count, was mourning the death of a goldfish. Knowing that his heart was that big, she briefly wondered what Erik would have been like if the world had been kinder to him all those years ago.
After he'd recovered, eating and regularly speaking to her again, she decided to help heal his wound. "Would you like new fish?" she asked him one evening. "We could have a whole aquarium, if you want."
"No," he replied. "They will only die, too. We need something that will not die." He paused for a long moment, appearing very thoughtful. "Perhaps…."
Her heart jumped as she wondered what was on his mind. She knew of…something they could have that (god-willing) wouldn't die before they did. Although there was still plenty of time, with every passing year, they came closer to that final decision. And she wondered if Erik was thinking about it…about a baby….
Of course, her thoughts were entirely too optimistic.
"Perhaps a parrot," Erik continued. "They live very long."
She frowned but managed to hide her disappointment. "I'm not sure if I'd like a parrot."
"Indeed. Yes. It might be irritating." He shrugged. "Well…perhaps nothing for now. We will keep the feline. And Romeo does not seem devastated by the passing of his companion; perhaps he will live a bit longer."
"Perhaps," she replied with a smile. His endearing attitude toward their pets quashed her negative feelings. And they did have a lot of time. Anyway, she wanted to focus on her career.
With Erik's guidance and hours of hard work, she was able to get a permanent position within the company. She mainly took the supporting roles. A few articles about her popped up in the newspapers, tying her to the past events with Falcon, but no one seemed to pay too much attention. Thankfully, that was all old news.
This was what they had worked for-the happiness…the calm contentment in Erik's eyes as they went through their daily routines…the stability of (fairly) normal life mixed with the excitement that musical careers can bring.
It was still difficult to get Erik out of the house unless Christine was performing or if she mentioned that she would be gone for the night. And she was getting used to the knowing glances of people when she mentioned that her husband wouldn't be accompanying her to a dinner or social gathering. Christine could read what they were thinking: The poor girl's husband must neglect her. Is he one of those workaholics? Is he cheating on her? Do they even live together?
Oh well. She knew the truth. She was loved.
The second trial occurred about a year later, and it was a bit more startling than the death of the fish. Just when the past seemed far behind them, it decided to creep up on them again.
After a performance, she had finished changing and was digging for her keys in her purse. Erik was waiting outside as he usually did for her, avoiding the larger crowds. They would go back to their room and enjoy a little celebratory champagne and cheesecake. This had been one of her larger performance roles.
The dressing room was warm, and she paused to wipe away the light coat of perspiration on her forehead. She could hear murmurs and the soft clicks of shoes against the tiles as people walked around outside. "Stupid keys," Christine muttered as she walked into the hallway and toward a pair of double doors, making a mental note to clean out her purse. Erik referred to it as the "bottomless pit."
"Christine."
She blinked and stopped in front of the exit. The masculine voice was extremely familiar, but it still took her a second to place a face to it. Her eyes widened, and she whirled around. "Raoul!"
"Hi there." He chuckled at her expression and took a few cautious steps toward her. His features were broader and less boyish. There was more confidence in his step, but his eyes held slight wariness, as though he knew this meeting could go one of many ways. "How are you?"
"I'm good-wonderful! Oh my gosh! What are you doing here? I haven't seen you in ages!"
"I had business up here and took my family along; we decided to also do some sightseeing. I saw your name in a brochure. Melanie even recognized it." He cleared his throat. "She…told me I should come see you perform. I'm glad I did; you were spectacular."
"Oh. Thank you." Christine was so surprised that it was difficult to find words. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."
"I hope it doesn't feel like I'm intruding, but I wanted to say, 'Hi.'"
"No. Not at all. It's good to see you." She smiled. "It's just been such a long time."
"Yeah. The years have flown by, huh?"
"Yeah." Christine took a step toward him. They leaned forward and briefly hugged, and the combined scent of his shampoo and cologne brought back memories. Stepping back, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and glanced behind him. "Where is Melanie?"
"Outside with Caleb. My son."
Her eyes widened. "You have a son? How old is he?"
"He's one and a half." Raoul laughed and turned a little red. "We're actually expecting another in about eight months. Happened a little fast but…we're happy."
"Oh! That's wonderful."
"Yeah. He's a great kid. I can't wait till I can get him outside with a baseball glove."
"Wow," she murmured.
Raoul hesitated, and it seemed to take some effort for him to ask the next question. "Where is…your…husband?"
She laughed; some things never changed. "Erik is outside. We usually meet after my performances. It's our little routine"
"Heh. I see. Do you have a family, or…?"
"I have Erik, a cat, and one fish."
"Well, that sounds nice. Yeah. We have two Labradors."
"Great! Animals are…great."
"Yeah. They are." Raoul scratched the back of his head. "So would you like to go outside? I can introduce you to my family. Maybe we can all have dinner. Or is that not a good idea?"
She didn't know if it was a good idea. God only knew what Erik's reaction would be. But Raoul was here now, and it seemed a shame not to visit with him for a little while, especially because they'd never said goodbye all those years ago. "Sure! Let's go. I want to see your son."
They exited together, and she watched as Raoul walked toward a pretty brunette woman with a stroller. In the stroller was a bright-eyed, blond toddler dressed in jean overalls. Christine waved, still feeling a bit disoriented. Melanie waved back, and Caleb stared up at her. Raoul introduced them, and there was a slightly awkward exchange of greetings.
"Hi there," Christine said with a grin, kneeling down to Caleb's level. "You look just like your daddy, you know? Look at those blue eyes." Caleb giggled and tried to grab her hair.
"He's got Melanie's mouth," said Raoul, a hint of pride in his voice.
"Which will probably mean braces," added Melanie with a playful roll of her eyes.
"He's adorable," Christine replied, standing up again.
"Thank you," said Melanie, her expression more curious than hostile.
Christine suddenly sensed Erik on her far left, standing in his familiar shadow patch. Of course, he didn't look happy, eyeing the entire scene as one would stare at a rotting carcass. Adjusting her purse, she swallowed and took a step in his direction. "Excuse me for a moment."
"Sure," Raoul replied behind her. She knew he was also looking in Erik's direction.
Christine walked up to her husband and kissed him firmly on the jaw. "You know I had no idea."
"I did," Erik declared. "I saw the boy enter. But there was no way to warn you." Thankfully, he sounded more annoyed than angry. Maybe the years had thawed some of the hatred.
"You can come see them," she said, tugging on his hand.
"No. You may visit with them; I certainly do not want to do so."
"They're only here for a little while. I thought we could-"
"I said that you may visit with them. Although it would be amusing to see Chagny's expression if I cackled and carried you away right now, but the halfwit would likely call the authorities. Visit them, and then they will go away."
"Oh, Erik."
"Have a pleasant evening. I will wait in our room." Erik disappeared before she could say anything else.
Christine sighed, wondering if he was really going to be watching them from afar the entire time. Erik's paranoia had faded over the years, but who knew what Raoul's visit would do to his mind.
"My husband won't be joining us," Christine said upon returning, speaking more to Melanie. "He's a little shy sometimes."
Raoul grunted.
"Oh. I see. That's fine," Melanie replied, tilting her head to the side. Christine wondered what Raoul had told his wife about the past.
She learned more about the couple throughout the evening. Melanie was a registered nurse, and Raoul was running a local chain of athletic and outdoors stores. Although they weren't overdressed by any means, it was obvious from their clothing brands and rented Mercedes that Raoul had managed his money well over the years. They were both practical and straightforward. No one ever would have guessed that, not even ten years ago, Raoul had been plagued by a great deal of darkness. Christine mainly spoke about her own career, keeping the topic away from Erik except when Melanie asked what he did for a living.
At one point, Melanie stepped out of the restaurant with a fussy Caleb. Christine turned to Raoul with a wary smile. "So…how much does she know?" she asked in a whisper. "I've tried to be careful about what I say."
Raoul rubbed his right temple, appearing slightly distressed for the first time that night. "She knows about Falcon and what they did. She knows that we were held hostage. She knows we broke up soon afterwards. I never drew the connection to Erik, though. She knows he's disfigured, but she doesn't know the other…stuff. There was never a reason to tell her."
"Oh. Thanks. That's probably for the best"
"So how are you really doing?" he asked, eyeing her closely. "You've been kind of quiet."
"I'm wonderful," she replied. "My career is going well, and Erik is doing great with his music. Actually, he's doing very well with everything."
"That's good," Raoul replied. "He was busy tonight?"
"He still doesn't like being out in public all that much."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be," she replied, a little more sharply than she intended. "We're happy. Just not social butterflies."
Raoul nodded. "Sure. I understand. Now that Caleb is here, Melanie and I socialize less." His words had a tinge of solace in them, as though he were trying to make her feel better.
She ignored his tone. "You two seem great together."
"We are," Raoul said with an earnest nod. "She was bit of a lifesaver."
Christine gave him a genuine smile. "I'm so happy for you."
"Thanks."
Melanie returned, and she and Raoul smiled at each other. Raoul took his son and set him in his lap. "You'd better be a good boy and let Mommy eat," he said.
"Yeah!" Caleb giggled and clapped his hands. With a grin, Christine leaned over and played peek-a-boo with him, only half-aware of a conversation that Raoul and Melanie were having about the flight back home. Lost in the game, she didn't even realize that they were soon ready to leave.
As she watched Raoul and Melanie interact, Christine found herself missing Erik. She wanted Erik. And she wanted him at her side in public, displaying his love for her. And she wanted to sit in a cozy restaurant with her husband and…and…and a baby….
But she couldn't have it all. Christine could hear her father's voice after her twelve-year-old self had whined about not being able to afford what all the other kids had. You can't have everything you want, Christine. Pick what you want the most and be happy. That's life, kiddo.
She had chosen Erik and couldn't imagine life without him. And if having Erik meant never having a child…well, that's just the way it would be.
She was a big girl; she could accept that.
Caleb rested his cheek against his father's chest and shyly smiled at her. His eyelids began to droop as he headed off to slumber land, safe in his loving parents' arms.
He did follow them for a short while. It was not that he distrusted his wife, but rather that he wished to be in her presence a few moments longer. And he wished to keep an eye on Chagny. After they disappeared into a predictably upscale restaurant, he returned to the hotel room.
He sulked, muttering to himself about why the idiot had to intrude into his life now. Why could not Chagny kindly disappear off the face of the earth? He wished that he was staring down the boy right at this moment, showing off his Christine and gloating in triumph. But his mask did not allow him to eat, and that would have been wretched.
And he had chosen to be like this! If he'd had the damned reconstructive surgery, his face might be perfect by this point. But he was still ugly. Why had he chosen to remain hideous? What the hell was he thinking? Erik is a disgusting freak!
Moaning to himself, he collapsed upon the bed and buried his ugly face in the pillow. His thoughts were wild and unclear, and he momentarily forgot why all past decisions were made. All he knew was that his precious Christine was dining with Chagny and that vilely attractive child. And he, the freak, was stuck in this room.
Chagny had the tendency to make him want to…murder people….
Vile people were always surrounding his Christine; they deserved to be strangled and sliced up into little pieces and….
"Erik must calm down," he murmured in the silence. "Christine will return. Erik must stay here and wait. And no one must die."
He managed to merely lie there on the bed for several hours, staring at the ceiling. His muscles uncoiled, and, as had been the case over the last several years, he was able to let go of most of his murderous anger.
Christine finally entered, her mouth twisted into a little frown. Of course, that terrified him. He sat straight up and stared at her, waiting for any revelations.
"Erik," she greeted him.
"Christine."
She approached him, her mouth set in a firm line as she stared him in the eye. "You love me," she stated.
He was momentarily speechless. "Erik loves you," he agreed. "And you will stay."
"No one else can even begin to imagine how close we are," she continued, wrapping her arms around his neck. "They'll never understand because they never see us together…."
"You are mine."
"Yes," she agreed.
"Did that boy put doubts into your mind? I will kill him."
Christine shook her head and began to push him down onto the bed. "Let's not talk about Raoul."
What followed was a very delightful evening. Making vigorous love to his wife was an excellent substitution for murder. And Christine seemed to agree. Curled up in his arms afterwards, she fell asleep with a small smile on her face.
And the cat was not allowed on the bed.
The following morning, Christine yawned and placed her head on his shoulder. "Last evening was a little crazy, wasn't it?" she asked. "The past kind of crept up on us."
"The boy will always be irritating. I wish he would die."
"Oh, Erik."
He paused, remembering his dismal thoughts. "Had I gone through with the surgeries…well…could you imagine the look on Chagny's face if I were fixed? It is a shame we did not take advantage of the opportunity…."
She softly groaned. "The last thing in the world I want is for you to go through painful surgeries just so you can annoy Raoul."
"It is not for him!" he retorted. "It is for…you should have something nice to take out with you. Like I have."
"I wish you would go out with me," she replied. "As you are. I know it's not that simple but sometimes…I wish people could see me with my husband."
"They would pity you," he replied.
"No. They pity me because they think I'm always alone." Christine sighed. "But it doesn't matter what they think either way. We're happy. That's what matters."
He allowed his bony fingers to run through her hair. The demons of last night seemed less threatening in the morning. From her knitted brow, he could tell that she desired something. "What do you want?" he dared to ask.
"Nothing."
"Tell me."
"Well...," she began. "Raoul and Melanie are leaving late this morning, and I'm going to say goodbye to them. I want you to come with me. You can hang back, if you want, and you don't have to say anything. I just want you to be there."
"You want me to get within ten feet of Chagny? How vile."
"Only for a moment. I want them to see us together."
"Why do you not simply ask me to shove a rusty nail into my-"
"Erik!"
"Fine," he muttered. "But if Chagny dies, I take no responsibility."
"Fine. I take complete responsibility for whatever happens to Raoul."
So, with that promise, he accompanied her down the dimly-lit hotel corridor that morning. His muscles stiffened as the eyes of Chagny and Mrs. Chagny fell upon him. The woman blinked and cocked her head to the side, studying him. Chagny had likely given her the whole story of the 'hideous monster who stole his precious fiancée.' He hung back several feet and scowled while Christine said her (hopefully permanent) goodbyes.
"Have a good trip home," Christine told them. "It was so nice to see you."
Speak for yourself, dear wife.
"You, too," Chagny replied. "Good luck with your singing. I'm glad everything has worked out for everyone."
It would work out better if you would stay far away from me and my wife, you idiot.
"We'll have to visit again," added Mrs. Chagny, having a difficult time keeping her eyes away from him. "It was great meeting you."
Indeed, Madame. You should learn to keep your husband better occupied.
Christine then bent down to the level of the child. "Bye, Caleb."
"Bye!" he replied with a grin.
Christine gave the toddler a kiss on the cheek. He cringed in disgust.
When she stepped back to his side, he possessively put an arm around his wife and stared Chagny in the eye. Chagny shifted and turned his attention to Christine. After a few more dull formalities, they parted. "Take care," said Chagny, giving them one last lingering glance.
"You, too," Christine replied, watching them leave. Her gaze drifted to the child. Thankfully, there was no regret on her face. But there was an odd glint in her eyes as she stared down at the younger Chagny. A glint of longing.
He did not like it. Even when she looked away from them and nuzzled his arm, an unpleasant feeling remained in his chest.
She loved him. But he knew. He knew exactly what she desired. He had always known, only choosing to ignore it all these years.
"Let's go back to our room," she suggested, smiling.
"Fine."
"Is something wrong?" she asked, perhaps disturbed by his curtness. "Are you still mad about Raoul?"
"No," he murmured. "No. I am not angry. The last twelve hours have simply been irritating."
"I know," she replied. "But we're good now. They're gone. It's all over."
"Yes, it is over." He kept his arm around her as they returned to their room.
The dreaded topic was not discussed that day; she never mentioned the Chagny child. And he hoped that he could continue ignoring the issue for another decade. And another. Until one day, as with all biological matters, it would simply be too late.
For how could he ever give her the one thing that might destroy everything—including his sanity?
Children-they were clingy, whiney, dirty, loud, obnoxious, ignorant, naïve, annoying creatures.
And he did not wish to have one invading his life and taking his Christine.
But he had the horrid feeling that this matter was far from over.
