A/N: The trouble with working for myself is that I have a slavedriver for a boss.
Erik inhaled deeply and sighed before taking another sip of tea. The cake he'd eaten was sitting like a stone in his stomach. He'd scarcely been able to enjoy it as the feelings that were stirred up with his relating of times gone by had left a bad taste in his mouth. With Christine in his life, he'd been able to eat, but with the talks he was having with Anne over the past couple of days, he was feeling like his old self, back when he was completely alone.
Anne regarded him thoughtfully once more. She was well aware that he'd only told her as much as he could bear, and that there were far worse things he didn't dare recall. Indeed, there were some parts of her own youth that she would prefer to leave forgotten. When he'd whispered the name, Anahita, the look on his face betrayed the love he still felt for her. She wondered what had happened to her, if she had fully recuperated at the hospital Erik had entrusted her care to, if she even still lived. She also worried what might happen should Erik come across his old flame while with Christine. She surmised that it was highly unlikely that should occur; however, it was still something to wonder about.
Christine was still so young in many ways. Anne doubted her adopted daughter had a jealous bone in her body, though the possibility existed that she considered Erik to belong only to her. If Christine were to hear that Erik had loved before, how might she react? The girl had only played at being sweethearts when she was much, much younger, and this was her first proper romance. The way she had spied Erik glancing at her told her all she needed to know about him.
Hearing him tell her of his sordid past didn't change what she knew already.
Erik's mind was a jumble of memories and emotions. He couldn't tell Anne the full extent of his relationship with Anahita, nor what had actually happened the night he'd fled Persia. He felt as though he were falling into a bleak abyss of torment. Anahita had been wonderful to him, yet he had fallen in love with someone else. How could he have moved on so easily? He had forsaken his first love and left her in the care of other people! He tried to remind himself that he could not have provided the care she had needed nor guaranteed her safety. The shah had placed too high a price on his head.
He couldn't stop the guilt that he felt bubbling beneath the surface of his psyche. Emotions he had long since believed he had laid to rest were returning. He resolved to seek out someone who could inform him as to the condition and whereabouts of a woman who remained dear to him.
Then, there was Christine. Did he dare tell her what he had just told Anne? Christine had been so good to him the past few weeks she had lived with him, and he felt as though he were betraying her by thinking of dredging up the past. He wanted to look towards the future, but he also wanted Anne to be able to trust him.
No matter what he did or what he said, in his heart, he was being unfaithful to someone.
Christine was excited to return to the stage. She wouldn't be singing yet, not in any solo roles, at least, but as part of the corps de ballet again. It was a step backwards, Gabriel had admitted, but she had, after all, been gone for nearly three weeks. She had some time to make up for. As she headed for her dressing room, she had a strange foreboding.
She placed a hand on the burgundy wall to steady herself. The dizziness subsided as quickly as it had come. She placed a hand to her forehead and took a few deep breaths before continuing on her journey. The hallway seemed longer than it ever had before. Once she reached her destination, she poured herself a cup of tea and added a lump of sugar and a generous splash of milk.
She told herself that she was merely nervous about performing publicly again, but, in the back of her mind, she feared that her life was about to change once more, and not for the better.
Mignon was frightfully nervous. She'd never been out with a nobleman before! Luckily, Sorelli had coached her in a few simple behaviours should she be unsure of what to do.
Keep smiling, even if his jokes are boring. Be interested in what he has to say. Above all, you are there to see and be seen. When you are on the arm of a handsome man, you must act as though you belong there. Let no one tell you otherwise.
She took a deep breath and made sure the little pins were still in the same spot Sorelli's hairdresser had taken such care to secure them. Satisfied at last that her appearance would just have to do, she sauntered out the door to join her dining companions.
"Ah, Mignon, this is Philippe, le Comte de Chagny," Sorelli began the introductions.
"A pleasure, mademoiselle," Philippe murmured as he bowed to kiss the back of her hand. He certainly hoped that his baby brother would not become too attached to this girl. She was supposed to be his companion for dinner and dancing and wherever else the night took them. When he saw the courteous smile Raoul gave Mignon, he felt his worries being laid to rest.