Chapter 15 Miles Away
Meg shifted uncomfortably on her seat as she tried to not doze off again. It had been four days since Erik's surgery. It had already been four days and he hadn't woken up yet. Erik had said that if it took more than two days for him to wake up, she should leave for Paris and he would meet her there. She had stayed with the hope that maybe he would wake up on those days, but nothing had happened. Marco had said that the surgery had been an absolute success and that somehow, Erik would heal soon because they had applied some new liniment that would make his skin peel off all the damaged layers. Besides, his bones had been restructured and he would have a normal face as soon as they took off the bandages, except perhaps for some scars here and there. But that didn't matter to Meg. She just wanted him to wake up.
It was the first day of February, early on the morning. She knew it was the date that the Parisian authorities had asked her to appear, but she reasoned that she could take a later train and still arrive in time. She just wanted a few more minutes at the hospital, even if her husband wasn't conscious of her being there at all. Marco hadn't let Meg visit Erik as he was in a sterile room, but he would be moved to a private room in a few more minutes. She just needed to see him, to see that after all he was all right. To see him before she left for Paris.
Arabelle had already helped her to pack. Meg had made Arabelle promise that she would look out after Erik while she was gone, until he was able to come and meet her. She continued to twist her fingers nervously until soft footsteps echoed through the deserted halls of the hospital. Marco appeared around the corner, and the moment he spotted Meg he just smiled and nodded. That was enough for Meg. She stood up quickly and hurried over to where Marco stood. They walked in silence down the hallway until they reached the room 14. Marco turned the doorknob and opened the door, letting Meg walk inside.
The moment the door closed behind her, she turned around slowly, her heart beating fast. The room was spacious, mostly all white. And in the bed Erik slept, or so Meg wanted to believe. Half of his face was covered by thick bandages, just allowing her to see part of his left eye and mouth. Her legs began to falter and she slowly began to feel her hands shaking. She couldn't stand it; she couldn't see him like this. Silently, Meg walked to his side, breathing heavily with each step she took. There was a chair by the side of the bed, so she gripped the back of it tightly once she stood close. Her eyes traveled the length of his body, trying to believe that he was truly all right. Meg was aware of the soft sound of his breathing, but still his visible eye was closed.
"Hello" she breathed quietly, her voice barely a whisper.
Although she knew he wouldn't answer back, a tiny part of her expected to hear his deep warm voice answering back, his green hypnotizing eyes looking back at her. Slowly, she sat on the chair, her legs trembling. Meg leaned forward and stretching out a shaky hand she softly caressed his hand. It didn't feel normal, it was not as warm as it had been when he had held her, caressed her or embraced her. A wave of despair washed over her as she felt hot tears prickling at the corner of her eyes.
"You were right, the surgery was a success" she whispered, a sad smile forming in her lips.
Meg could practically hear what he would answer back just to tease her "I'm always right, petite". She felt a shiver running up her spine when she remembered the last time she had seen him. Although she knew he was being strong for her, somehow she knew that he was scared. And that had made Meg live the most horrible days of her entire life during those four days. The anguish she had experienced was something she had never felt before. The only time she had been like that had been the last days of her father, and still it wasn't anything compared to what had happened with Erik.
He wore a clean nightgown half buttoned, allowing her to see a portion of the expanse of his chest, rising with each soft breath he took. Slowly she grabbed his hand and held it on her own, lacing their fingers together. A part of her had hoped to feel his strong muscular fingers stroking her own, his thumb caressing her hand. But nothing happened. Suddenly she felt something hot rolling down her cheeks and realized that she was already crying.
"Please wake up" she pleaded in a whisper, raising her other hand to his jaw, caressing softly the newly grown beard "I need you more than you believe"
She observed his face expectantly, watching him for any sign of awakening. But he remained unconscious, without knowing that she was standing right at his side. Looking up she saw upon the table at his side the flowers she had given Marco to put on his room. Roses and lilies combined gave the room the happiness it needed, and she knew he loved roses…or he was fond of them. Returning her gaze to his face, she stroked his hand once more and leaned down to carefully kiss his cheek.
"I'll see you there" she whispered in his ear before. Meg straightened up and let her tears fall freely down from her eyes.
It hurt her too much to know that when he woke up, he would find himself alone, and that was something she had vowed to avoid when they met. But know she was doing this for him, because that had been what he had asked for. She wanted him to never be alone again, not if she could help it, but somehow she calmed down when she remembered that he would have Arabelle, Federico, Marco, Isabella, Fabrizio and Gisella. Taking in a deep breath, she took a step back, still looking at him with the hope that he would wake up. Nothing occurred as she reached the door, he still was in a deep sleep. She put her hand over the doorknob, realizing that she was shaking again. She turned around and opened the door, but before stepping out she glanced back again, knowing that maybe it would be a long time before she saw him again. Bravely, she stepped out and closed the door, not daring to look back again. She knew that if she turned around she wouldn't be able to leave.
Shadows and whispers surrounded Erik as he fought to emerge from the black water, nothingness beneath him. He was aware of being watched, but still he couldn't realize why he couldn't talk to them or see them. He could feel pain all over his face, his body numb. The moment he felt like he was going to finally emerge, a wave of delirium weakened him even more and dragged him once again deep down into the water.
Feeling exhausted, Erik struggled to open his eyes, panicking when he realized that he couldn't see anything with his right one. He took in deep breaths, calming down when he realized that there was something pressing his eye down. He lifted one heavy arm towards his face, touching slightly the bandages which covered half of his face. He felt as his heart began pounding loudly, remembering everything that had happened. The Opera, Don Juan, heartache and pain, a blonde angel, Florence, happiness, marrying Meg…the surgery. He blinked surprised as he remembered why he was there, feeling pain and nausea. He could smell the faint scent of something familiar…like lilies. But still the smell of bleach and medicine was too strong for him.
He turned his face carefully to one side and tried to lift his head, but immediately he was assaulted by a wave of dizziness and nausea. Resting back, he closed his eye and began to breathe deeply trying to stop the world from spinning. He heard as the door squeaked open. A woman walked silently inside carrying a bouquet of flowers. She turned around and gasped surprised when she realized that Erik was staring back at her. Arabelle smiled warmly and approached to his side.
"Erik, you finally woke up!" she whispered as she walked around the bed and took the old flowers replacing them with the new ones "How are you feeling?"
"Horrible" he croaked, his throat dry and his voice barely audible.
She laughed quietly and grabbed a glass of water which he hadn't noticed before. Arabelle slid a hand underneath his head carefully as he struggled to hold the position. Arabelle positioned the glass near his mouth as he began to drink eagerly its content, emptying the glass quickly. He felt as her hand slipped out from beneath his head and he lay down again relieved mumbling a quiet thank you. The door opened again, and this time it was Marco who entered. His expression brightened as he realized that Erik was awake at last.
"So you finally woke up from your hibernation" he teased as he came to stand by his side.
"Glad to see you" Erik chuckled silently.
"How are you feeling?" Marco asked, his tone getting worried.
Erik closed his eyes and sighed "Thirsty, hungry… as if I had been hit by a train"
Marco laughed silently "That's understandable. You can eat once the medication wears off a little more"
"You can't leave this boy to starve!" protested Arabelle from his other side.
"I won't, Signora" Marco answered with a calmed smile "He might be able to eat in two or three hours, tops."
Suddenly, Erik felt as a wave of nervousness crept over his body and his heart began to thump loudly. He knew why it was happening; he knew that he must ask the question, although he feared the answer. Erik looked up to Marco, clenching his fists slightly.
"Where is Meg?"
He observed as Marco tensed. Arabelle walked hurriedly to stand at Marco's side, sitting down on the chair that was there. She leaned closer and grabbed with her fragile hand his massive one. She patted his hand and gave him a warm smile.
"She returned to Paris, as you asked her" she explained softly.
Erik looked up to Marco as if to confirm what Arabelle had said, a lump forming on his throat as he saw Marco nod. But of course, what else had he expected? He had practically forced her to return to Paris without him, just until he could join her. But what was he thinking of? He didn't want her to be in another place…he wanted her to be near him. He wanted her to be sitting by his side while he healed, he wanted to see how her warm eyes sparkled, to hear her say his name, he wanted to make her blush, to caress her hands and face, to feel her lips upon his.
Blinking furiously he tried to speak "How long have I've been unconscious?"
He feared the answer, How much time had Meg had been on her own in Paris without him?
"A week and a half"
Stunned, Erik looked into Arabelle's eyes trying to calm himself down. Almost two weeks? She had left two weeks ago? A wave of dizziness filled his body as he slowly began to realize how stupid he had been on accepting to do this surgery. He felt sore and nauseated, but above all that, he felt as if a part of his heart had been taken away. He remembered the last time he had seen her, before the surgery. She had cried, but accepted his decision. And although it had taken him a great deal to make her accept returning to Paris without him, she had agreed.
"How is she?" he croaked, a lump in his throat.
"She sent a letter saying that she arrived well in Paris and now is staying at the Opera Populaire with her mother" began to explain Arabelle without letting go of his hand "She hasn't spoken with the authorities yet, Antoinette hasn't let her do it. Apparently the police want to meet her husband too"
"I must return to Paris" Erik said desperately as he tried to sit up. Marco put a hand on his shoulder and forced him to lie down again.
"You can't, Erik, at least not now" he said apologetically.
"But I must be with Meg!" he protested.
"Please Erik, try to be patient" pleaded Marco "You need to rest. You feel nauseated because of the medication. But you are healing really fast, you'll be able to go after her before you know it"
Erik raised a hand to his forehead and pursed his lips "How much time?"
"At least two more weeks"
Suddenly exhausted, Erik closed his eyes and breathed heavily. Two more weeks? He couldn't stand it. He couldn't leave Meg alone so much time! He felt a soft caress on his hand and opened his eyes, finding Arabelle's pacific expression.
"Do you know why I bring flowers every day?" she asked quietly.
He remained silent, looking into her warm eyes full of wisdom. She leaned closer and smiled sweetly "Because Meg asked me to. She knows how fond you are of lilies and roses"
A knot formed in his stomach as he remembered that her hair had the scent of lilies. He had given her a rose once in Piazza della Repubblica, but still, how did she know that he liked roses? He clinched his fists as he realized that probably she had seen the roses he had given Christine. He regretted enormously not giving her a rose every day and vowed that when he saw her again he would give her a rose every single day of his entire life.
"I know you want to leave Erik" said Marco in a soothing voice "But I need you to have a good recovery, I'll check how your face is"
Erik watched as Arabelle stood up and walked once more to his other side. He felt as Marco's fingers began pressing over the bandages and lifted the gauze carefully.
"Did Meg say anything else on the letter?" asked Erik in a whisper as he closed his eyes and let Marco work on him.
"Well, apparently the managers want her to dance in the reopening of the Populaire, but she doesn't wants to" explained Arabelle.
"Why? She loves to dance" wondered Erik in a whisper.
He waited expectantly at Arabelle's answer as Marco continued lifting layers of the gauze, the bandage feeling less heavy.
"Because it's the new production of Don Juan" answered Arabelle.
Erik tensed and opened his eyes looking for her "They are making Don Juan for the reopening? Well, it seems that they still are fools" he chuckled quietly.
"Meg doesn't want to dance something which she knows you don't like" explained Arabelle.
"I will need to talk with her" mumbled Erik closing his eyes again.
"Just one more gauze…" whispered Marco removing the last layer of the bandage.
Erik felt as the gauze pulled from his skin but soon was rewarded by the feeling of something cold and moist touching his cheek. He felt as Marco spread some soothing liniment all over the right side of his face.
He weakly grasped the handle of something that Marco placed into his hand, although he didn't have much strength.
"You can look now" encouraged Marco.
Erik kept his eyes closed "I really don't care about this right now"
"Well you better be!" protested Marco "It was a very long and delicate surgery and actually I'm really proud with the results"
Erik knew Marco was right, so slowly he began to open both of his eyes, blinking to clear his vision. He could see perfectly with his left eye, but the vision with his right one was a little bit blurry, something that made him panic somehow.
Marco leaned down and raised his right eyelid, examining his eye "Your eye is irritated, but it will recover soon"
Erik blinked as Marco continued to touch from his temple down to his nose and cheek. Arabelle observed silently from the other side, her arms folded watching as Marco studied Erik.
"Your skin is noticeably less swollen and your bones are slowly adjusting" Marco smiled proudly as he straightened up.
Even though he understood that the medication was preventing much of the pain, Erik still felt the need to tightly grab hold of the handle of the mirror. Looking up to Marco he saw as he nodded and then he slowly raised the mirror practically obeying Marco's silent order. Erik pursed his lips at the sight of his face.
Well, it still doesn't looks like a face at all.
"You will have some scars alongside the nose and the swelling in your lower eyelid will soon go back to normal" explained Marco with a smile at Erik's expression of disgust "Above all that, you will look great"
Erik rested his head back and let out a deep sigh. He didn't care how he looked at that precise moment; he didn't even care about the fact that he would be able to have a normal life. He just wanted to be with Meg. He wanted to go to Paris.
Marco began to rebandage Erik's face. He felt Arabelle's warm hand over his shoulder and he opened his eyes, glancing to look up at her.
"You will see her again soon" she whispered with a smile.
Erik raised a hand and placed it on his shoulder over hers "I really want to believe that"
He vowed to do whatever it would take to heal as fast as he could and return to Paris. He had never believed that being parted from Meg would affect him as much as it had. He needed to see her as soon as possible. Before he could keep thinking about Meg, slowly the medication began to take effect and without intending to, he slipped into a deep sleep.
Meg was sitting in front of her boudoir in her temporary dressing room. Some areas of the Opera Populaire were still under construction. Luckily the fire had only affected the stage and part of the dressing rooms. But still her mother had insisted that she must stay in the Populaire, so she had been using the Prima Donna's dressing room as her own. Apparently no one had ever dared to use it since Christine revealed that this had been the place where the Phantom had come for her the first time. But Meg knew that no Phantom would come for her…he was far away, hopefully healing from a very painful surgery.
It had been three weeks since she had left Florence and her husband behind, and ever since she felt like she was slowly going to pieces.. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she knew that people would begin noticing that there was something wrong in her. Her eyes were red from the countless nights she had spent crying, rewarding her with dark shadows under them. Opening the box with the powder her mother had given her, she began applying it all over her face, concentrating on the dark spots underneath her eyes. Meg pinched her cheeks slightly to gain some color. Stretching out a hand, she then turned her attention towards her dull, brown eyes. She picked up the tiny bottle with castor oil and spilling some drops on one finger, she rubbed it in her eyelashes, thankful that she had long thick eyelashes which didn't demanded the use of any other attention. Meg moved her attention towards her lips, pale as paper. She dipped a finger into the clear rose colored pomade and spread it over her lips, the cold sensation welcoming to her dry skin.
Finally she glanced up to the mess that her hair was, a bun barely holding it up any more. She raised a hand and took it down, beginning to brush it untangling with strong strokes. Closing her eyes, she let her mind wonder towards the chaos that awaited her outside the peace and silence of her dressing room. The premiere of Don Juan was in less than two more weeks and still they didn't had the lead dancer and the lead soprano who was to play Aminta, Christine's original role. Meanwhile the managers had begged Meg to be the lead dancer until they found the proper one. So now Meg was guiding the remaining ballet dancers which had stayed and making auditions to form the new ballet corps. Meg still didn't understand why they were going to make Don Juan, but the managers had explained that the public had really liked it, even more with the fact that the Phantom himself had written it, which had made it much popular in the Parisian society.
But as always, her mind drifted away towards another person. She opened her eyes again and stared at her reflection. She remembered the night of their wedding, when Erik had helped her taking her hair down, caressing it gently. She remembered him saying another day that she smelled like peaches, inhaling the fragrance of her skin. Meg could hear his deep and soft voice whispering in her ear, his breath causing shivers down her spine. Closing her eyes she pictured how his eyes had looked the first time he had kissed her, his stunning green gaze running over her features, hypnotizing and confusing, making her knees falter. A quiet sob left her lips without even trying to, just as it had happen so many nights before. She opened her eyes, frustrated when she saw her eyes sparkling with unshed tears.
She couldn't stand it any longer, she needed to see him. Where was he? Why was it taking him so long to return to her? Taking in deep breaths she told herself that he was healing from a very difficult surgery that without a doubt would change his life. But still she feared that part of herself that felt empty; like if something was missing within her. Meg knew without a doubt what was what she was missing, and although she was scared to say it out loud, she already knew it. She didn't feel complete, real, not without Erik. She needed him, more than she had dared to believe, and the more time she spent without him, the more pain she felt. Did he feel like she did? Was he missing her? Did he even think about her?
Suddenly her own ring caught the light and sparkled, just as it had done when they shared their first dance as husband and wife. Slowly raising her hand she studied the amethyst, the memory of Erik's eyes when he had slid it onto her finger. The memory of his fingers lacing with hers made her feel suddenly weak, placing her hand down over her lap. Staring back into her reflection on the mirror, she observed the way the necklace hung from her long neck, the cold metal caressing her skin. Raising a trembling hand she touched softly the pendant, feeling the carved inscription which she already knew by heart. Sempre al vostro fianco. Always by your side, he had said. And he had meant it, he had promised to return.
A soft knock on the door awoke her from her daydream, startling her. The door squeaked open and her mother walked in, her eyes moving over the pendant Meg held between her fingers. A look of compassion appeared over her mother's face as she approached her.
"Again, ma petite?" she asked in a soft tone, placing a hand over her shoulder.
Meg let go of the pendant and placed her hand over her shoulder, caressing her mother. She looked to their reflection and sighed "I can't help it, Maman"
"He's all right and healing" Antoinette encouraged stroking her daughter's shoulder "He's a strong man"
"I do not doubt that" Meg explained with a frown as she stood up walking over to the couch where her ballet slippers were "It's just that I want to be by his side, to know that he's safe"
"He is" Antoinette smiled as she walked towards Meg "I'm sure that he is doing what he can to come here as soon as possible"
Meg sighed and raised a hand to her forehead "I don't know what worries me the most. He being away or what will happen when he faces the authorities"
"Nothing will happen, my dear" assured Antoinette "If the surgery works as you explained to me, then he will be unrecognizable"
"I really hope so" whispered Meg, her face downcast.
Antoinette grabbed her hand and guided Meg towards the door "Come, there is a ballet corps we need to reform"
Meg laughed quietly and let her mother guide her towards the door "You are right, besides I really need to dance"
They walked from the dormitory wing towards the main section of the Opera House. Meg was still surprised at how beautiful the new interior and art work looked. Soon they arrived at the stage, walking swiftly across the new polished floor which glowed with the reflection the new chandelier provided. A small smile appeared on her lips as she remembered the explanation the managers had given the staff about the reasons for not having a chandelier the same size as the old one. They had said because its maintenance was really expensive, but still a hint of panic appeared on Monsieur Firmin as he mentioned the fire. They were still scared about the Phantom.
"Good morning, Mademoiselle Giry" greeted Monsieur Reyer with a smile from the orchestra pit.
Meg smiled and walked to the edge of the stage, bending down "Good Morning" she said with a smile and corrected with a giggle "It's Madame Destler, Monsieur"
Mon. Reyer slapped himself gently on his forehead and laughed "I beg your pardon, Madame; it's just so hard to believe that you are married already!"
"I'm sure that my husband will like you very much, Monsieur" she smiled "He admires the excellent job you have done with the orchestra"
"Oh! Is he a musician?" he wondered.
"An excellent one" Meg said with a smile.
Before he could answer, Madame Giry had them form two lines and then asked Mon. Reyer to begin playing. As the haunting and hypnotizing music from Don Juan emerged from the orchestra pit, Meg soon got lost on her movements, hypnotized by the feeling Erik's music created deep within her. Although she refused to dance at the premiere, she danced during rehearsals because she needed it; her soul needed this kind of release. As her solo approached, the ballerinas began stepping away, leaving Meg alone on the center of the stage. But she didn't feel alone at all, when she danced, somehow she felt whole once more, as if Erik was by her side.
Erik lay on his back in their bed, one arm over his stomach and the other resting over his forehead. His eyes itched from the uncontrollable tears he had shed since the day he returned to the cabin. It hadn't felt as welcoming as it had been the night they had come here for the very first time as husband and wife.
"It hurts so much" he whispered with a groan staring at the ceiling, studying the shadows the flame of the candle created on it. It had been a month. A month without seeing her again, and although he knew that the next day he would return to Paris, the pain he felt inside his chest still scared him. How could she have become so important and vital to him in such a short amount of time? Scanning the room from where he was lying, he saw the open wardrobe in which her dresses hung, taunting and teasing him with memories. Slowly, he began to remember how he had helped her unlacing her beautiful wedding dress, the smooth plane of her back, practically begging to be touched and traced by his fingertips. The room seemed empty and bigger without her in it, colder. Grasping the edges of the blankets, he pulled them down from his bare chest, pleased that at least his body was comfortable and warm, something that his soul was not. His eyes traveled from the wardrobe to the boudoir, the memory of Meg standing there assaulting him. He could practically visualize how he had stood behind her, the fragrance of her hair intoxicating and unbalancing. Her hair was soft, slipping easily from his fingers. He remembered how it had felt the moment he pulled her to him and molded his lips to hers, soft and lovingly. The emotions her kisses awaken on him were completely new, thrilling yet terrifying. Erik closed his eyes in frustration as he remembered the feeling when he traced the length of her neck with his lips, her scent taunting him.
Slowly, a soft tune began sounding on his head, pure and intoxicating. He clenched his fists, trying to ignore the familiar sensation of creating music. He couldn't move, he didn't want to move. After a moment, the sound became a torture, and tossing the bed sheets aside, he stood up and walked towards the boudoir, grabbing the score sheets and inkwell she had given him.
"I need you" he breathed, shaking his head from one side to another. Sitting down in front of the fireplace, he let the memory of Meg invade his senses as he scribbled down furiously on the score sheets. She didn't want to dance because she knew his heart had been broken during that Opera, but still, he knew that in Paris there were still some matters to be resolved. He didn't care any more about the pain he had suffered, he just cared about the angel who had brought back light into his life and now had left him in the darkness. But soon he would see her again.
"Soon, my love"