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Chapter 6

By the time the carriage arrived outside of her apartment, Christine had dried her tears, although the emptiness in her chest had not gone away.

Christine heard a soft voice coming from within the apartment when she entered. Perplexed, she removed her cloak and followed it to her aunt's room. She opened the door to find Erik sitting in the chair beside the bed and Aunt Alice lying on her side, watching Erik as he read aloud to her. They both looked up when Christine entered.

"Good afternoon, sweetheart," Aunt Alice said.

"Hi," Christine said, trying to wrap her head around the strange sight before her. She met Erik's eyes, and he shrugged casually.

Christine entered the room and perched on the bed beside her aunt, who she kissed on the top of her head.

"So how did this happen?" Christine asked.

Aunt Alice sat up beside her niece and said, "your friend here just walked into my room this morning. Goodness he gave me a fright, but once he explained that he was your guest and not an intruder, we got to talking."

Christine gave Erik a questioning look, to which he responded, "I was just looking for some more books."

Christine started laughing. Maybe it was the absurdity of the situation or perhaps the build-up of so many emotions over the day, but something about that moment broke Christine into fits of hysterical laughter. At first Erik and Alice looked confused, but eventually they joined in.

Once the laughter died down, Erik offered to continue reading. Christine sat beside her aunt, who was now curled against her side, and let Erik's voice wash over her. Even when he spoke, his voice was musical and enchanting. Christine didn't hear the words he read, but instead found herself marveling at this moment. She could almost forget about her argument with Raoul, sitting here with two people she cared about very much. Her heart felt bigger in her chest. Christine wished this would never end.

"Christine," Erik whispered. She looked at him and realized he had closed the book. "Alice is asleep. Shall we let her rest?"

Christine nodded and gently moved her aunt to a comfortable position on the pillows before following Erik from the room. They walked to the sitting room in silence.

"Your aunt is so kind," Erik said as he settled himself on the couch. "Almost as kind as you." The fondness in his eyes was overwhelming.

"She's the best," Christine said as she sat beside Erik. "It breaks my heart that she is dying."

Erik nodded. "She screamed when she first saw me, but when I tried to flee from her room she stopped me with her words. She made me explain myself, who I was and I was there. I explained that we knew each other from the opera and you were helping me, so I was your guest. She told me to sit and asked me more about myself. I ultimately told her much of my story and what happened at the opera. She may be dying, but goodness she is a strong-willed woman."

"That's Aunt Alice. Even if she's bedridden, she will make things go her way or no way at all."

Erik chuckled. "Exactly."

"And you were 'searching for a book'?" Christine asked dubiously.

"I was hoping you had a few more books in here than this pitiful library," he said, gesturing towards the small bookcase. "So I went looking around and accidentally entered her room, not realizing it was her room."

"Erik, I know this may come as a shock, but I'm not wealthy," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "We can't afford a library like you had at the opera."

"I'm sorry," Erik said after a moment. "I know you said to stay quiet so Alice didn't know I was here."

"It's alright," Christine said truthfully. "Thank you for keeping her company today. Although I'm sure she is going to have questions for me when she wakes up."

"I really did tell her everything," Erik said solemnly. "Just so you're prepared."

Christine nodded thoughtfully. Her mind returned to Raoul and the way his face had broken when she had said that at least with Erik she could sing.

"Christine?"

"Sorry, just lost in thought I guess," Christine said, shaking away the guilt.

"Are you okay?" Erik asked. "You seem far away."

Christine looked up at Erik, whose brown eyes were peering down at her with genuine concern. "I'm fine, really. I think I need to lie down for a bit, though."

"Okay."

Christine stood to leave.

"Christine?"

She turned.

"You would tell me if I'm the problem, right?"

Christine smiled weakly. "You are the least of my problems. Seeing you with Aunt Alice today actually brought me true happiness."

Erik's lips parted, and a look of wonder crossed his face as Christine turned and went to her bedroom.

Christine spent the next few hours shifting between tenuous sleep and mulling over her day. She felt so betrayed by Raoul, but she was still engaged to him. Christine imagined her life without performing and instead spending her day with the aristocrats from those parties. The thought made her insides crawl. Then she imagined herself and Raoul spending their lives together, his face being the last she saw every night and the first she saw every morning. That thought, at least, made her smile.

After a few restless hours, Christine got up and prepared supper. She prepared a tray for Aunt Alice and brought it to her room. When she entered, Aunt Alice was awake and knitting.

"Mmm that smells good," Aunt Alice said. "Thank you, my darling."

"Of course, Auntie," Christine said as she settled herself in the chair. She watched as Alice took her first bite.

"What?" Alice asked.

"I'm assuming you have questions."

Aunt Alice chuckled. "Yes, I do. First of all, why didn't you ever tell me what was going on with Erik at the opera house? Based on his story, it sounds like he was haunting you, rather creepily I may add, for several months."

Christine sighed. "I didn't want to trouble you."

"Christine! I may not be well, but I still love you. I want you to tell me when you are troubled and give you advice. Your parents may be gone, but you aren't alone."

Alice spoke with such sincerity it brought tears to Christine's eyes.

"Oh my darling, don't cry," Alice said, reaching out for Christine's hand. They sat like this for a few moments. "So tell me," Alice finally continued, "do you know how much that man loves you?"

Christine nodded and smiled faintly. "I do," she said. "He's done so many terrible things, Auntie. But he has lived such a tortured life that it twisted his morals. I think he has hope, though."

"I agree, my dear. The way he spoke of you, though, it was like he worshipped you. His respect for you is astounding. He loves you, although he has no idea how to express it, that is clear. Not that it matters though, given that you are engaged to another man."

Christine sighed, all of the pain and emotion from earlier threatening to break free again.

"What is it?" Aunt Alice asked.

"It's nothing."

"Christine, what did I just tell you? I am here to listen."

Christine told Aunt Alice everything, what Philippe said, how Raoul ended up agreeing, and how she needed to decide between performing and her fiancé.

"I'm surprised you didn't realize this earlier, Christine," Aunt Alice said. "Of course a woman married to a vicomte cannot work."

"I didn't know when I said yes to him, Auntie."

"Had you known, would you have said yes?"

Christine paused, considering. "I think so, but at the time I was so frightened. I was frightened of Erik. I was frightened that he would take me away as his prisoner and haunt my mind with his music. But now… now I'm not so sure. I'm not scared anymore. Erik is here, and I am not afraid of him. In fact, I care about him."

"But you still love Raoul?"

"Of course I do. How could I not? I just… don't know which I love more, Raoul or my music. I wish I could have both."

"Ah, don't we all. But the world is not perfect." Alice reached out and touched her niece's face. "You are so strong Christine. Do you want to be a wife? Or do you want to perform and live a less traditional life? Both are noble choices. You must find out what your soul needs more."

"That's easier said than done, Auntie."

"I know," she said. "Think about it. Don't make any quick decisions."

"You give good advice," Christine commented.

Aunt Alice smiled. "All in exchange for your delicious food. And now I am going to sleep some more. Good night, Christine."

Christine picked up the tray and stood. "Good night, Auntie."

The next morning, Christine received a letter from Raoul.

My dearest Christine,

I am so sorry for what happened yesterday. This should have been a conversation we had a long time ago, and it should have been between us and not included Philippe.

My love, you are my sun, moon, and stars. Seeing your face makes all of my troubles disappear. However, I fear that if you continue to sing you will become the laughingstock of our friends. You are too beautiful and glorious to be ridiculed and belittled by them.

I want to see you and talk this out. How about I pick you up from the theater today and we have supper together?

Yours always,

Raoul

Christine read the note through three times before placing it in the drawer of her vanity, where Erik's mask still sat. Then she wrote her response.

Dear Raoul,

I understand your perspective. I need some time to process everything and think. Let's dine together on Friday evening after the performance.

-C

As soon as Christine arrived at the theater, rehearsals began. Since opening night was in five days, they were rehearsing in full costume and beginning to do run-throughs of the entire opera. Thinking of her lesson with Erik, Christine sang with more strength and fullness to her voice than she had before, for which Monsieur Reyer gave her ample compliments. Carlotta scoffed.

It wasn't until the day was over that Christine had the chance to catch up with Meg. The two of them sat in her dressing room together.

"So, you found him?" Meg asked excitedly.

"Yes. He was where you said he'd be."

"And he is… well?"

Christine nodded and smiled. "I have him staying in my apartment. He seems to be getting more sleep and eating well again."

"Goodness, Christine. Do you even remember that he is the same man who had your fiancé tied up in a noose a month ago?"

Christine sighed. "Yes, I do."

Meg tilted her head and looked at her closely. "Do you love him?"

"What?! How could you think that?"

"It's just… the way you talk about him sometimes and these crazy decisions you're making."

"No, Meg. I don't love him," Christine said defiantly. "I am just helping him until he is ready to find a way to start over."

"Alright." Meg patted Christine's shoulder. "Do you want to walk home together?"

Christine shook her head. "I have a few things I need to take care of here before I leave."

Meg furrowed her eyebrows questioningly. "Whatever," she said with a shrug. "I'll see you tomorrow." Meg kissed her on the cheek and waltzed out of her dressing room.

A stillness hung over the room once Meg left with her boundless energy. Christine reveled in the quiet briefly before walking over to her mirror. She felt around the edges until she found the latch, tugged it, and the mirror slid open.

Christine made her way down the familiar dark hallways that led to Erik's lair. Eventually, she reached the underground lake where the boat was neatly tied up as she and Raoul had left it weeks ago. Christine paddled her way across.

The boat slid ashore and Christine carefully stepped out and made her way towards Erik's house. The door was ajar, and the inside was a disaster. Erik's furniture was overturned and smashed; music and papers were strewn across the floor. Christine sighed. At least the mob hadn't burnt the place down.

Her feet led her easily to Erik's library. His beautiful bookshelves were smashed to the floor and books were strewn everywhere. Christine found a box and dug through the wreckage to select a few books. There were so many to choose from, many not even in French. Ultimately, she chose two books on music, a few novels, and a few academic books about mathematics, architecture, and science. Christine lifted the heavy box and brought it into Erik's music room. This was the worst of all of the rooms. The organ had clearly been struck several times and the keys were falling off and the insides were exposed. Beside it, the monkey music box was still sitting in perfect condition. It looked out of place in the ruins of this house. Christine fell to her knees in front the music box, remembering waking up to its twinkling after the first night she had spent here and Erik singing to its mournful tune when she had come to return his ring. What memories this music box held.

Christine stood again, searching the rubble on the floor for any of Erik's compositions. Ultimately, she found ten that were in reasonable condition, three of which she had sung for Erik when she had been here with him.

With the box in her arms, Christine left the house and returned to the boat. She couldn't help but imagine Erik's life in this place. He had built a beautiful home beneath the world of the living. In his home, he had only the company of his books and his music. They were his friends. And yet, this home had been a haven for him. He had escaped from the torture of the traveling fair and come to the opera house. For the first time, he was able to build his own world and have control over it. That desire for control went to an extreme.

Christine's arms ached under the weight of the box of books as she walked home. By the time she entered the front door, her muscles were burning so much that she dropped the box unceremoniously on the floor of the entryway.

"Christine?" Erik called.

"I'm home," Christine called back, removing her shoes and gathering the books and compositions back into the box.

"What's this?" Christine looked up to see Erik standing over her. He peered at the contents of the box. Recognition flashed in his eyes, and he met Christine's gaze. "Are those mine?" His voice was full of cautious wonder.

"Yes," Christine said, standing up. "I gathered them from your home at the opera today."

Erik shook his head. "You are too good to me, Christine," he said, his voice breaking.

"I know you were bored, so I did what I could," she said. "I'm sorry I couldn't get more."

Erik's eyes filled with tears. "This is more than enough," he said.