Chapter Nine

Alison snuck to a secret tunnel near the small chapel in the opera house. She had stopped using the entrance in the mirror because it led to too many questions and it was hard to sneak into the prima donna's dressing room unnoticed. No one, however, questioned a trip to the chapel. She pressed the switch that opened the door and slipped inside. As she neared Erik's home, she began to hear a soft sobbing that grew louder the farther she went. She eventually stopped at the archway that led into his home.

Erik was crouched on the ground in a small ball, shoulders shaking with the intensity of his sobs. She couldn't see his face, but she could feel the pain emanating from him.

"Angel?" she asked quietly, trying not to startle him or bring on his ever-ready temper.

He jumped and spun around to face her, his hand flying to cover the side of his face that was usually masked. Her eyes quickly found the floor. There was nothing in her demeanor that seemed scared to Erik. He realized that her refusal to look at him was her way of giving him a moment to collect himself and replace his mask, which he quickly did. Even in his despair, he felt a small warmth in his chest because of her kindness. He swiped a hand across his eyes, trying to hide the tear tracks on his cheeks. Once he had done so, he cleared his throat and spoke.

"It is not Sunday." He immediately cringed internally at the harshness of his tone.

She looked up at him. "I know."

"Well, if you are here just to talk, I am afraid that this is really not the best time."

"I know that too. I came down here to make sure you were okay."

"What?" Her words threw him completely off guard.

"I mean, I saw Christine come and I know that since she was here before, a lot has happened and I just thought you might be upset because…" She realized then how strange it sounded. Why would he have any reason not to be okay from the things he had told her? The fact that I came down at all means that I know more than I should about what happened. How am I going to explain this to him? I can't exactly tell him that I watched a musical about his life and that's how I know all this stuff about him.

He looked at her in utter shock for a moment. Then he seemed to remember something. Some of the tension left him and then he sighed. "You recognized her from…" He swept a hand, indicating the alcove where she had found the wedding dress doll. There was something like defeat in his voice.

She relaxed. Thank God I disobeyed his orders before. Otherwise, I would have no valid reason for suspecting that there was anything wrong. "Yes," she said softly.

He turned away. "As you may have guessed, her name is Christine Daae," he whispered. The degree of love and pain in his voice when he spoke her name staggered Alison. I knew that his love for her was intense, but I never realized it was like this. I guess you have to see it to believe it. It also sent a strange stabbing feeling though her that she didn't understand. It seemed like anger and pain and want, all at the same time. But she wasn't sure why she would be angry or in pain, and what was it that she wanted? An answer came unbidden when she asked herself that question. I want to hear him say my name like that, her mind said. I want- She cut herself off mid-thought. I'm not jealous, am I? That would just be weird. What reason would I have for jealousy? I would never want to hurt someone like that.

But it's the love that you want, the insidious voice whispered. You need to shut up, she told it. You have a boyfriend, and besides, you really shouldn't be thinking about this when someone is suffering this way right in front of you, especially when it's someone– She shook her head to clear it and focused on the task at hand.

"When I'm feeling sad about something, I always find that talking about it helps."

He turned to look at her, disbelief and slight confusion in his eyes.

"I don't want to invade your privacy," she quickly explained. "If you don't want to tell me, you don't have to. I'm not asking out of curiosity, I'm just trying to help you feel better." She held her breath, hoping that it had not come out the wrong way and maybe he could trust her enough to tell her.

His eyes searched hers. Despite her protest that she was only trying to help, he was not sure whether she was telling the truth. She did seem curious, but that seemed to be overridden by a genuine desire to help. She had heard about his travels and his terrible past, but this was intimate enough to him that he hesitated to tell her. But he had wanted to tell someone, to confide in another human soul. He wanted someone to know his side of the story before all that was known about what had happened was that a scary man kidnapped a poor innocent woman and a dashing hero came down to save her. But no one would listen. The fact that she was interested now made the part of him that starved for human contact happy, despite his heart's sadness. This way of dealing with problems was new to him, since there had been nobody who would help him though it. But he decided that anything was worth a try.

"You have to swear to me that you will not judge me too harshly. I… am not proud of some of the things I have done in this. If I could change it, I would do so in a heartbeat, believe me."

She nodded slightly, feeling as though the smallest movement would make him go back on his decision to trust her.

He gestured to a chair. "Sit. This may take some time."

She obeyed and looked up at him, waiting.

"Christine Daae came to the Opera Populaire as a child of about seven. She had just lost her father and was absolutely heartbroken…"

He talked for hours, telling her every last detail. It was clear to her that he had wanted to tell someone for a long time and the story could no longer contain itself, spilling out of his soul. Most of the things he told her she already knew from the musical or the book, etc. But the way he told it made her feel like she was actually there. It made her heart hurt more than seeing it as an objective viewer. She could feel his pain and at points, tears sprung to her eyes that mirrored those in his. He had to stop and collect himself several times before going on. By the end of his narrative, he was barely able to stop himself from crying long enough to finish.

"She is my life, Angelique. My life and my soul and she left me for another man." Then he began to cry in earnest, trying to stop but having no control over himself anymore. She moved closer and slowly put her arms around him in a hug. His hands came up and held onto the arm that went across his chest, the closest he could come to hugging her back. They sat like that for a long time. She slowly rocked him back and forth, feeling helpless in the face of his suffering. Eventually, his tears slowly dried up. He seemed to fully notice her arms around him for the first time. She blushed and quickly removed them. He swiped a hand over his face in an attempt to clean the tears. She dug into a small pocket in her dress and offered him a handkerchief. He accepted it silently. Once his face was clean, he looked up at her, ashamed.

"I am sorry for that. I–"

"Don't be sorry. Please. You have absolutely nothing to apologize for. It's Christine who should be sorry."

The comment seemed to take him off guard. The pain was still resident in his eyes.

"I am flattered that you think so. Most of the rest of the world does not," he said bitterly. At that moment, she wanted to do anything to chase away his sorrow. Then she thought of something that might.

"When I feel upset, I do things that I love to make me feel better. I know you love music, maybe that might help?"

"It helps most of the time. But sometimes it only makes me sadder."

"Will you maybe… sing for me? Only if you want to, of course, but–"

"Yes." He thought for a moment, and then began to sing. The moment the first note floated from his lips she felt a jolt of surprise. The words to his song were different because they were in French, but the tune was unmistakable.

"Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation

Darkness stirs and wakes imagination

Silently the senses abandon their defenses

Slowly, gently night unfurls its splendor

Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender

Turn your face away from the garish light of day

Turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light

And listen to the music of the night"

There was something seductive about the way he sang it, but it seemed like he wasn't even trying. He just was that way and it made her heart beat faster. She could see him forgetting his pain and his suffering, caught up in the swell of music.

"Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams

Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before

Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar

And you'll live as you've never lived before

Softly, deftly, music shall caress you

Hear it, feel it secretly possess you

Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind

In this darkness that you know you cannot fight

The darkness of the music of the night

Let your mind start a journey through a strange new world

Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before

Let your soul take you where you long to be

Only then can you belong to me"

He had been looking at the ground, but now his eyes moved up to meet hers.

"Floating, falling sweet intoxication

Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation

Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in

To the power of the music that I write

The power of the music of the night

You alone can make my song take flight

Help me make the music of the night"

Their eyes locked. Even his gaze on hers sent a thrill through her body. Almost of its own accord, his hand reached up and touched her cheek. Heat filled her cheeks at his touch. She leaned in without thought, without conscious decision. His movements mirrored hers as his hand on her cheek pulled her face closer to his. Her eyes floated closed. She knew what he was going to do, and she wanted it with all of her being, with such intensity it surprised her. Their faces were inches apart when a voice came floating through the tunnel.

"Hello? Is anyone there? Can someone help me get out of here?"

They both turned their heads quickly to look at the source of the sound. It was a male voice, and it was most definitely speaking English. Erik stole a quick look at Alison and saw a very strange expression on her face.

"What is it?"

She shook her head. "If I didn't know better, I could have sworn that was…" she mumbled to herself. She hesitated a moment then called out, "Who is that? Why are you down here?"

Silence. Then a young man appeared in front of the portcullis-like gate that was for the boat and Alison's eyes went wide. He had brown hair and blue eyes. He seemed utterly confused and lost. Not only that, he was all wet. When she saw him, a mix of emotions rushed through her. She felt guilt and surprise and a twinge of happiness at the same time. Overriding all of those emotions was utter and complete shock.

"Patrick?"

"Alison?"

"What are you doing here?"

Remember, Patrick is her boyfriend from college. Also, a quick reminder that when their words are in italics, they are speaking English. Please review and tell me what you think!