Hello there,
Alright, so I'm probably in quite a bit of trouble with some of you for not updating for two weeks, however let me explain: I came home from NYC, and since my poor laptop died, I was without computer access for two weeks until now. I also spent yesterday working on a calendar of events for this fanfic, so I can keep track of when the opera is still being performed, how many clients have been killed, etc. I decided to keep this chapter a bit shorter than normal, just so that it would help me get back into the swing of things. Now that I know my class schedule, I'll probably keep with updating once a week, unless I have a huge project or exam... got to love college.
Anyway, I hope that all of you will forgive me-please let me know what you think of this chapter by reviewing. I want to know what all of you think of the twist I put at the end: out of the blue or expected?
Ever yours,
Soprano in Shadow
Erik groaned as his internal body clock awoke him—the little sleep he had gained would barely suffice. Glancing at the clock, which he knew would read six a.m., the unmasked composer lay in his bed for a moment reflecting on the past twenty-four hours.
He had kissed Christine Daae.
And it hadn't been out of desperation on his behalf. Quite the opposite in fact, with her chasing after him. She had pushed him against the piano, in order to show the love she held for him. In return, he had pushed her away and made a run for it, in his own desperation to keep what little sanity he could hold together. He could have taken her right then. Instead, he had fled in fear of his own sexual prowess. Sure, he had been with women in the past—but those were walkers of the night, ones who did not deserve remembrance.
And his beloved Luciana… Ah, Luciana. She would only curse the rest of his life, and Erik knew that Christine did not deserve that sort of madness.
Then he smiled, his mournful thoughts of his past love melting away to make room for his new love, at the thought of afterward. The hellcat had stalked him like a tigress coveting its dinner. And when he had locked and bolted his bedroom, adding a few pieces of furniture to barricade the door, she had howled in fury, screeching at anyone nearby to let her in. Erik could almost gloat to Raoul about how Christine had wanted Erik. Not Raoul. She had actually hungered to hear his heartbeat on her ear, to see the ugliness of his face, to feel his lips caress her skin…
He shook his head in annoyance, brushing away those heated feelings of desire. He would continue this assignment as though none of this had occurred. He would have to be distant, discreet, and soulless. He would also have to get out of bed in order to ready himself for his morning run, but this morning, the idea of leaving behind his daydreams of Christine Daae was proving to be too difficult.
Growling at himself, Erik swung himself out of bed, the muscles of his back taut as he stood up and stretched out his arms, his focus settling on the pile of furniture against his door. Setting to the task, he decided that this could be a nice substitute for his normal sets of arm and ab exercises. Finishing a few minutes later, Erik glanced at his dresser for a moment, before walking into his adjoining bathroom…
Only for him to walk back out and stare once more at his dresser, focusing mainly on the stack of folders that lay there—or at least used to. He knew that besides the eight clients he had taken care of a few days ago—the morning after Raoul had arrived, in fact—there were at least nineteen still left for him to deal with. So where had the other nineteen folders run off to?
Returning back to his bathroom, Erik went through the morning ritual of preparing for his daily run, while debating whether or not to be concerned. Shrugging it off as being unimportant, Erik continued with finishing his morning ritual and transitioning into stretches.
A knock on his door broke the composer out of his routine. Cautiously, Erik opened the door a crack in order to stick his head out in order to see who his visitor was. Christine. Always Christine. Erik silently cursed himself for not leaving to run sooner, as he offered her a quizzical smile. "Yes, Christine?"
The brunette glared at the masked man for a moment, before breaking eye contact. "It's 'Miss Daae', Mr. Destler," Christine snapped, before closing her eyes for a moment and smiling. Erik watched her silently, alarmed at her sudden hostility. "Anyway, I was wondering if you had seen my files—they were on my desk last night, I remember seeing them after we- before I, well…went to sleep. However, when I woke up this morning, they weren't there. Any ideas?"
Erik studied her for a moment. Was this a joke? The girl had to know about his own files missing—why else would she come here and ask about her own?
"Unfortunately, Miss Daae, I have no idea where your files may have gone. My own pile has also gone missing, save for the clients I had already taken care of. Perhaps we should alert Andre?"
Christine shook her head. "No need to worry him—he'll just alert Antoinette, and then she'll cause a fuss. No, I'll just see if I perhaps misplaced them."
As the soprano turned to leave, Erik saw a flash of sadness held behind the hardness of Christine's hazel eyes. "Chris- Miss Daae? May I have a moment of your time?"
Christine turned once more to look at him, before shaking her head. "I believe, Monsieur Destler, that you have taken up plenty of my time already. There's nothing left to be said between us. I have no problem with performing with you onstage, but off stage? I'm considering you as merely a flat mate and colleague until this assignment is over—I suggest you do the same."
Erik watched her departing form, a sense of overwhelming guilt filling his stomach. He had done this. He had taken this wonderful and ever cheerful woman and broken her within almost three weeks of knowing her. He was a monster.
Tying on his running shoes, the composer went through the motions of making his way outside of the building: out of the apartment, down the elevator and out of the main door. Instantly, Erik could sense the signs of autumn: the golden leaves, the cooler air, the faint scent of pumpkins and spices carried by the wind. How had the whole month of September crept by so quickly? With it already being the second of October, Erik knew that their rest from opening week would be soon coming to an end—the next performance being in three days with a steady schedule of two to three performances per week, as the opera house began to introduce the operas that would follow Don Juan Triumphant during the remainder of its season.
This is what he needed: fresh air and time to think. Erik began his run down the River Walk at Chelsea, granting himself views of the Hudson River, with his final destination being the lower neighborhoods of Manhattan. However it seemed that this morning, all Erik could see were couples in love—not one person was walking by themselves.
Would it really be a bad idea to pursue Christine? Despite the firm resolve of his mind, Erik couldn't help but see that he was in denial. He loved her, however he would never want to put Christine in a relationship that would also hold her captive. The last thing Erik would ever want Christine to do was hate him, but at the same time, Christine seemed angrier over the fact that Erik wanted nothing to do with her. Besides, she was old enough to make her own decisions, wasn't she? She had lived through the death of her father, had killed countless clients, while also maintaining her own individual identity of being an opera singer. That alone had to prove the girl's own maturity.
Didn't it?
Several minutes had gone by, and Erik realized that he had ended up in the West Village now; he would cross over through SoHo to the East Village, and then up though Murray Hill and Midtown East, cross over again to Chelsea, and then he would be done for today. Perhaps this longer run would enable him to finally make a decision and be resolved to stick with it.
…
Sitting on the edge of Christine's bed, Raoul whispered consoling words and rubbed her back, as the soprano's sobs were muffled by the pillow she laid on.
"Hush, Little Lottie… He couldn't have been that terrible to you. Perhaps things will look better tomorrow. Just cry for today, little darling," Raoul crooned, his forehead scrunched in worry. In all of his years of knowing Christine, Raoul had never seen the brunette this distraught over a man since the deaths of her tutor and father. Ever since her small confrontation with Erik, almost two hours ago, Christine had been crying. "But you did tell him how you felt, exactly like we discussed, right? And he still denied you?"
Christine removed her face from the tear stained pillow and nodded. "B-but he's…l-l-lying! He said he—hiccup—didn't l-love me… but h-h-he does!" Christine knew she looked a mess—her face pink, her eyes puffing, her nose running—but in front of her best friend, she could hardly care less. Raoul knew everything about her, all of her secrets, just like Christine knew everything about the blonde man who sat beside her.
"Darling, what if you just finished this double life? Let it be your last assignment, please, hun. Just do what you the love the most and perform! Why linger in the Organization, when it's just taken away everything from you? Even if you retired now from both worlds, you would have enough money to let you live a very comfortable and quiet life. You should follow what your father wished and stop living this life."
Christine's hiccups became even more tiresome as her sobbing subsided. "B-but Papa promised me my angel of music, Raoul. He s-said that my angel of music would come and protect me when I needed him most, and that I would have a sign, and I would know."
Raoul looked at her confused. "Know what, darling?"
Christine shrugged. "I don't know. That's when he died. I don't know what I'm supposed to know, just that I will know."
Raoul frowned for a moment, before smiling. Moving from the edge of Christine's bed, Raoul, got down on one knee, his hands clasping Christine's.
Christine looked down at Raoul in shocked realization of what the blonde man was doing. "Raoul!"
Winking, Raoul smiled. "Christine Daae—my dear Little Lottie—let me take you away from all of this pain. Be my bride, and always live happily in the lap of luxury. We've always been best friends, and I know that Mother would surely approve of this alliance, so let us be merry and allow me to be your shelter and light. Will you be mine, darling?"
Laughing, Christine flung her arms around Raoul's neck, and kissed both of the kneeling man's cheeks. "Oh Raoul, you are such a dear! Such a dear, and so absolutely wonderful! What a divine idea!"
Sighing happily at Raoul, Christine kissed the blonde's cheek once more. "Oh, Raoul. If only I didn't love him. If you had given me this proposition before meeting Erik, I would have happily said yes. But now? I don't think I'd be able to look at him if I agreed."
"He would never have to know, Little Lottie. It would be our own secret little engagement. As soon as this assignment is done, you would never have to see him again. Then you could mend your heart, and I could have you all to myself for some time, before I'm sent out on assignment once more. What do you say to that?"
Giggling, Christine nodded. "Let's do it, Raoul! I'll marry you then, as long as we are in agreement!"
Then the brunette turned serious, as she pulled away from the smiling man. "But what about your mother? I'm sure she would want you to be happy and settled with someone you truly love?"
Raoul shrugged his shoulders, the laughter dying away from his eyes, as his voice took on a bitter tone. "Dearest maman loves me, however my route of happiness is not…within her tastes. She says I may keep a lover on the side, as long as a legitimate heir is born. Besides, you have taken the only man that I would have wanted to…enjoy. And if he is women-bound, then there is no hope for him and me.
"However, darling, would it be so bad, just the two of us? We would have our separate lives—all I would need is an heir. We know each other's secrets, so it would be a marriage of honesty and convenience, and if your heart ever learned to love another, then I would release you from our union, and we would still be the best of friends as we are today."
Christine smiled softly. "Thank you, Raoul, but I don't think there will ever be another who I would love as dearly as I love Erik. He may be an arrogant, pig-headed man, but he's the man I love. However, I would rather be married to you and far away from him, than wander this world alone without him by my side."
…
"Let's do it, Raoul! I'll marry you then, as long as we are in agreement!"
Erik's fists tightened as he strode back to his own room, his face clenched in anger. He had gone to Christine's room in order to apologize, and perhaps try and begin fresh once more, when he had overheard the little vicomte's proposal. The nerve of that…that fop!
His pace slowed, as he remembered Christine's sad words of, "If only I didn't love him." She loved him, but now she would willingly throw that love she held for him away, in order to bind herself to a marriage of convenience? In truth, Erik didn't blame the girl—she was heartbroken and confused—but Raoul? Raoul would pay!
Growling, Erik muttered under his breath before slamming his bedroom door, "Well then, let it be war between us, Raoul de Chagny! And let us pray, you poor bastard, that a disaster beyond your imagination will not occur!"
