Chapter Eleven - A Villain Turned Hero
"Open your eyes, Christine."
A gasp of delight filled her as Christine Daae realized that for the first time in nearly a fortnight, she was outside. The streets were dark and there were few people still out at this hour, but they were outside, nonetheless. "Oh, Erik!"
He ushered her to a brougham carriage and helped her inside, paying the driver and directing him to head for the Bois de Boulogne. "Erik has made a decision, Christine," he said once the cab started moving.
"Oh?" she asked, clutching her shawl closer to her bosom, a gesture which Erik noticed and blushed at once.
"Erik has decided it is time for you to return to the Palais Opera," he informed her, pulling out his pocket watch and checking the time. "Eight o'clock…Angelique will be finishing work on the costumes by now and heading home…"
"Oh, Erik, thank you!" she breathed, her eyes shining brightly as she smiled at him.
"But you must return to Erik every so often," he cautioned her. "You remember the agreement?"
"Yes, of course…how could I forget?" she answered quietly, her eyes losing their glimmer.
He felt a pang of guilt prod at his chest and could almost hear Angelique scolding him: "You know she's unhappy, so why do you keep torturing her, as well as yourself?" He shook his head, struggling to clear his thoughts. No, he had a goal in mind, and he was going to achieve it. Somehow, Christine would find a way to see past his hideousness and come to accept him, just as Angelique had, and possibly even love him one day. His eyes drifted back to her face, taking in her soft, pale skin, her sad blue eyes staring out the window. "Christine-"
"CHRISTINE!"
Erik nearly jumped out of his skin upon hearing someone shout the name. Pulling his hat over his brow, he peered through the curtained windows, his eyes widening as he saw the bratty Vicomte de Chagny shouting at them.
"Christine!" Raoul cried out, running after the cab.
Christine said nothing though her eyes were filled with fear and longing, her hand frantically moving to her shawl.
"Cabbie!" Erik shouted, smacking his fist to the wall of the cab. "Back to the opera, at once!" As he said these words, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Christine withdrew an envelope from her shawl and flung it out the window, watching it twirl in the wind before landing somewhere in the slush and mud. "What was that?!" he demanded, his hand flying towards her and snatching her wrist. "A note? A cry for help?! Has Erik not treated you like a guest in his home?! How could you betray Erik?!"
"Erik, stop, you're hurting me!" she pleaded, her eyes filling with tears at once. "Y-you don't understand, that's just to reassure him that I am well so he'll stop looking for me!"
"Lies!" he growled, holding his head in his hands. "Erik should have known better… he should have…"
They rode back in silence, the only sound between them was Christine's muffled cries as she wept into her hands. Erik pressed his palms together and covered his exposed mouth with them, his mind working to sort out why he was angry…rather, why he wasn't as angry as he should be. He felt so strange and confused, his heart and mind tugging him in too many directions at once. All he knew at this point was that he would feel better once he spoke with Angelique.
What felt like eons later, Erik paid the driver and helped Christine out, leading her through a secret entrance by the Rue-Scribe. Lighting a lantern he had left from a previous escapade, he guided her through the darkened, dripping corridors until they came to a hidden door. "Go down this hall and when you come out, you shall find yourself on the other side of the lake, at Erik's house," he instructed her, opening the door for her.
She stared at him, surprised by his calmness after everything that had happened. "You're not coming?"
"Erik has other things he has to do," he said coldly, waving her on. "Go back, Christine. Erik shall return shortly."
She nodded and reluctantly walked in alone, leaving Erik to stalk off on his own.
He hurried towards the operas, eager to get away and see if he could find Angelique. She always seemed to make him smile or clear his thoughts – he craved her presence at times, though he couldn't fathom why. Stopping by the managers' office, he found the two men arguing about what they wanted to wear for the masquerade, boring him at once. Taking off, he hurried to Angelique's workroom but found it empty.
"She's returning home," he noted, seeing how everything was set in place for the next day. A smile grew on his lips as he thought of her, coming back to him of her own free will, her face lighting up as she saw him. Satisfied, he climbed several stairwells before slipping out onto the catwalks and rafters of the stage. Glancing below, he found everything in order and swung down via rope, landing beside the ballerinas' room, when he caught them giggling the word "Phantom". Curiosity got the better of him, leading him to hide in the shadows and listen through the cracked door as to their conversation.
"Cosette! How can you think that?!" Meg Giry's voice arose from the chatter and giggles.
"It was just a thought," Cosette giggled, clearly embarrassed and enthralled with whatever she had suggested.
"You know, I wouldn't be surprised," little Jammes answered. "She said that he took her to his home and treated her kindly! The Opera Ghost is not one to do such a thing."
"But how would you know?" Louise, one of the newer girls, asked innocently. "You've never seen him-"
"No, but remember what he did to Joseph Buquet?!" Jammes butted in, instantly making the others screech in horror.
"Hush up, all of you!" the voice of La Sorelli cut the air, instantly getting them all to shut up. "Honestly, this is utter rubbish. The Phantom in love with the seamstress, bah!"
Erik froze upon hearing these words, his stomach twisting in a knot, his heart thumping uncontrollably within his breast.
"She's right," one of the elder girls, Josephine, chimed in. "If the Phantom would fall in love with anyone, it must be Christine Daae."
"Daae?" the younger girls gasped.
"It makes sense," another girl, Charlotte, added. "She's vanished for a fortnight and there's been no sign of her anywhere."
"But Angelique is sweet and beautiful and kind," Cosette protested. "Surely she could break through to the Ghost-?"
"Would you all stop this nonsense?!" Sorelli snapped. "I come in here to borrow a few ribbons and I get an earful of childish fantasies about singers and seamstresses earning a ghost's attention.Mon Dieu, what next? A pig becoming prima donna?!"
"I think we already have one," Josephine muttered, earning even more laughter from the girls.
"Watch your tongue!" Sorelli scolded her. "If La Carlotta or the managers hear you-!"
"Sorelli, what's wrong?" Meg asked. "You've been out of sorts lately, especially now that Angelique-"
"Don't start," she cut her off. "I don't want to hear another word about that seamstress."
"But Sorelli!" Jammes exclaimed. "How can you not like Angelique?!"
"Because that's all you and Philippe ever talk about!" she all but shouted, gasping in embarrassment as she realized she had said too much. "Oh dear, I mean-"
"You're jealous!" Louise and Cosette exclaimed accusingly.
"D-Don't be absurd!" she stammered. "What's there to be jealous about? And why do you care anyways? What makes her so special?"
"Well, she lets us come in and watch her work," Charlotte offered.
"She enjoys having dinner with us and tells us stories," Louise added.
"She lets us try on the beautiful costumes!" Jammes sighed.
"And she's very kind to us all," Meg finished off. "Besides, I would not be worried about Monsieur le Comte. She explicitly stated she has no interest in being with him whatsoever."
"Which is precisely why I think Cosette may be right!" Jammes spoke again. "What if Angelique likes the Opera Ghost, and he likes her?!"
"I think you need your minds washed out with good soap – you've been getting too enthralled with the operas we put on," Sorelli scoffed.
Having heard more than enough, Erik stalked away from the ballet rats' quarters, his mind spinning with all the absurd assumptions the girls had made about him and Angelique. Angelique love him, the living corpse?! He shook his head, attempting to push the notion into the back of his mind, along with the irritating thought that Philippe de Chagny was interested in her. He had seen him the day Angelique returned, fussing and begging her to return to his home with him. She had refused – of course she would, she wanted to come home to Erik, obviously – and sent him away as politely as she could…but to have Angelique fall in love with him…?
He silently fought with the notion as he returned to the catacombs, mindlessly following the paths towards the lake. Could it really be possible…? After all, he was currently trying to get Christine to love him, but it was so difficult with her, she absolutely refused anything he tried to do. She was warming up to him, certainly, but she showed no real signs of romantic interest-
"Stop!"
Erik nearly tripped over himself as he heard Angelique's voice echo throughout the cellars, her cry full of fear and panic. "Angelique…?"
"You have no idea how long we've been looking for you, wench," growled another voice, vaguely familiar to Erik. Where had he heard it before…?
"Maurice, I swear, if you don't leave me al-AGH!"
The man's cruel laughter bounced off the catacomb walls. "What? Something terrible will happen to me? Au contraire, Angie, I'm going to have a lovely time with you. You can't run away from me this time…oh, but don't worry. I promised Mother I would be good and only damage you a little bit. After all, you have to be able to get back to work once we get you ho-ACK!"
No sooner had the words left the man's mouth, a sleek object flew through the air and landed with deadly precision around his neck, choking all the air out of him as he had done so to Angelique only moments prior. Erik, in a blur of rage, had pulled out his Punjab lasso from his belt and found them at once, near the steps of the dock by the lake. Angelique was turning blue as she gasped for air, the horrible man known as Maurice kneeling over her, one thick hand around her throat, the other undoing his belt as he prepared to take her. In a matter of seconds, however, the hunter became the hunted.
"You would harm my Angelique, would you?" Erik hissed in his ear as he tightened the rope around Maurice's neck. "Beat her, rape her, take her away from Erik, would you? You would kill her, too, Erik knows that much. Well, now Erik shall make sure that none of those things ever happens again!" With a sharp yank, he could hear the man's neck snap, his head slumping off in an unnatural position before he collapsed face down, his body merely inches from the edge of the dock. Slipping the noose from the culprit's head, he tucked it back into his belt before giving a powerful shove and dumping the body into the water.
A strangled cough caught his attention instantly, making him swivel around to see Angelique clutching her throat. "Angelique!" he gasped, running to her side and falling to his knees. "Angelique, let Erik look at you-" He gasped once more as she flung her arms around him, coughing and weeping and shaking all at once. "A-Angel-?"
"E-Erik," she croaked, hot tears sliding down her face as she gasped deeply for air. "O-Oh…Erik…thank God!" She hid her face into his chest, using one hand to grip the lapels of his jacket. She inhaled his scent – Persian spices, ink, a faint hint of decay, and roses – and wrapped her free arm around his neck to support her, her entire being shaking from the ordeal. "…you came…for me…"
"I-I shall always come for you," he whispered, his heart leaping within his chest as he hesitantly embraced her, cradling her head against his neck. "Oh, my dear Angelique," he sighed, resting his cheek upon her head. "Erik was so worried he would lose you…" Seeing how she clung to him, he cautiously slipped an arm beneath her legs and stood, carrying her as though she were his bride. Glancing at the boat, he shook his head. "No…I shan't let go of her." Moving down the path, he found the hidden door he had shown to Christine nearly a half hour ago, and slipped through the passage.
She did not protest of fight him as he walked through the darkened tunnel and finally arrived at the house. She sniffled now, her sobs becoming more subdued as she focused on breathing, but her body still trembled. He stroked her hair as he entered the house, stopping as he realized what he was doing. "Erik is sorry," he said softly. "He will not touch if you-"
"Don't let go of me," she begged, sending him staggering. "Please Erik…!" She began to weep once more, causing him to hug her tightly to his chest as he carried her off to her room. Glancing at Christine's door, he noticed how the light was off and all was silent.
"She's asleep," he nodded, relieved. He entered Angelique's room, shutting the door with his elbow before taking her to the bed and lying her down. "Shh…hush, Angelique," he murmured, pulling the covers up to drape over her body. "You are safe now. Erik shan't let anything harm you ever." He sat on the edge of the bed beside her, stroking her hair with one hand while he gently placed the other on her neck, checking the bruises that had already begun to form. She whimpered under his touch but did not flinch from him, making his heart swell with happiness and longing. "She does not flinch from Erik's touch, but from the horror of that…that monster." His eyes blazed in the darkness of the room as he remembered what had occurred. "That…animal-!"
"Erik?"
His attention immediately snapped down to her, his gaze softening. "Yes? What is it, my dear?"
"Stay with me…please?" she whispered, tears glistening in her eyes as she stretched out her hand to him.
He grasped it at once, pressing his lips to it fervently. A sudden desire filled him, and he forced the request out of his mouth. "Angelique…Erik would like to…to…kiss you…your forehead," he quickly corrected himself, blushing and silently cursing himself.
She smiled at him, a weak laugh escaping her. "Go on, then," she said.
Swallowing nervously, he leaned forward, his heart racing a thousand miles a minute, until he finally felt his lips touch her skin. She squeezed his hand, sending his blood flying through his veins as he let his mouth linger on her. Pulling away, he sighed, his own eyes tearing. "Erik has kissed a woman…and she did not die."
"You're not the one who's trying to kill me," she jested, wincing as her throat throbbed in pain.
"What happened?" he inquired, placing his hand over hers.
"I was walking back the way you showed me when I thought I saw someone moving in the shadows. I thought it was you and I called out, but then he came out…I was so frightened, Erik. I really thought I was going to…to…die."
"No, Angelique," he whispered, pulling her into his arms again as she stared to weep once more. "Erik shall never let that happen…" He let his fingers run through her hair, unable to stop himself from the temptation, especially since she made no protest or request for him to stop. "Hush, Angelique, you're safe now…" Presumptuously, he kissed the top of her head, shivering as she sighed and relaxed against him. Opening his mouth, he tenderly sang,
"How I wandered through the darkness, wallowed in pity and shame,
Until you came and graced me, oh yes, you are to blame…
My soul awakes at your voice, my heart flies at your smile,
So let me remain here with you, if just for a little while…"
"Erik…that's beautiful," she murmured, her eyelids fluttering as she felt herself slip into unconsciousness. "Is that from 'Don Juan Triumphant'?"
"…it is now," he confessed, feeling her succumb to sleep, content in his arms. "Yes, Angelique, it is now part of'Don Juan'…as are you."
~OG~
Angelique moaned as she awoke, rubbing her eyes as she forced herself to sit up. She grimaced at the pain in her neck, touching it tenderly. Getting up, she cleaned herself and got dressed, leaving her room and entering the dining room, her eyes widening in awe as she saw the table was already set with food.
"Good morning," Erik said, motioning for her to enter. "Hungry?"
"Yes…Erik, did Christine make this?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Certainly not. Have you not seen the girl's cooking?" he asked, earning a laugh out of Angelique. "No, Erik made it…and Christine is not here."
"She's not?" she asked when it hit her. "Oh…oh, you let her go!" She beamed, running to Erik and embracing him tightly. "Oh, Erik!"
"Erik promised after all, did he not?" he said gruffly, though he was greatly enjoying his hug. "Have a seat, Angelique, and eat. You need your strength."
"You're right," she smiled wryly. "I want to get your costume finished before the Masquerade."
"May Erik see it?" he asked gleefully.
"No. It's a surprise," she winked, giggling as he pouted. "It should be ready by tonight."
"You also need your own costume," he noted, helping her into her seat.
"I've already gotten started. It's much simpler than yours," she reassured him. As they ate, her brows furrowed as she remembered a certain detail she had completely forgotten about the night before. "Erik?"
"Hmm?" he asked, sipping his tea.
"…what happened to Maurice?"
He set his cup down, his stomach churning. Raising his eyes from the table, he looked at her and answered honestly, "Erik…disposed of the creature you call 'Maurice'." He glowered at the wall, linking his fingers together as he set his chin atop them, vividly remembering what the man had attempted to do on Angelique's life.
"…I'm glad."
He blinked, his eyes snapping back to her face, seeing tears in them once more. "Angelique?"
"God forgive me, but I'm glad you stopped him, and to be frank, I'm glad he'll never come after me again," she wept into her hands. "I would watch him at my father's house, Erik – he abused women, even the prostitutes he brought in. The only women he never dared to touch were his sister and mother…the night I ran away was the night he tried to attack me, but I managed to slip out…and with that attempt he did last night…oh, God help, I'm glad he doesn't exist anymore! I'm awful!"
"Angelique," he spoke softly, rising from his seat and going to her. Kneeling beside her, he took her hands from her face and covered them with his, kissing each one. "You are not awful, Angelique.He was awful, but he shall not harm you again…no one shall harm you again."
"Thank you," she sniffled, letting him brush her tears away with his knuckles. "…though I hope you realize that I won't appreciate you going on a killing spree should I argue with someone about something as trivial as which opera performance is better or worse."
He laughed, shaking his head. "Non, mon cher. You know what Erik means."
She nodded, blushing as he kissed her hands again. "Yes, I know…thank you, Erik." Bending her head, she pressed her lips to his head, hearing him gasp in shock as she did so. "You deserve that much, at the very least." Slipping off of her chair so that she might embrace him once more, she murmured, "You deserve all the happiness the world can offer, Erik…all that and more."
"Erik might have found it," he thought blissfully, resting his chin upon her head. "…He just might have found it."