Chapter 18: Knowing We Must Say Goodbye
Erik could not sleep, not that he ever truly did but…
It was because he feared to lift even the slightest finger from the angel who was curled up to his side. Her even breaths fanned against his neck in deep slumber, and her hand clutched his open vest in a soft grip.
With one leg curled beneath her, the other lain hooked atop his leg, essentially pinning him to the chaise lounge.
He remained rigid as if any minuscule movement would tear him away from what could have all been a dream.
Maybe it was a dream.
And yet, the way she unconsciously tilted her head and buried herself closer to him as she slept only served as further confirmation of how real it truly was.
Christine Daaé was a living, breathing angel.
And she was his.
The way his moniker and name spilled from her lips mellifluously left him with little to the imagination and a boundless amount of potential.
To shape her voice would be his sole reverent desire. She was his Aminta. She was, vis-a-vis, his Magnum Opus.
They were, in essence, complete opposites. Christine is a sanguine ballet girl. And him, a deformed man masquerading as a specter. And he was at her pardon, to forever consign himself to her.
Christine Daaé didn't know it, but he would forever worship her. A walking angel.
Erik could think of any way to condemn and convince himself that he was a true monster. But yet, Christine…
Ah, Christine… She had changed everything.
Suddenly his future, their future was unfettered. Nothing would keep her from him, nor him from her.
She was his, and his alone.
Once forlorn, was now set right.
His libertine existence seemed now to be almost unblotted. A blank canvas to genin anew with her.
The facade he had spent his life constructing against all threats dissipated only before her.
Tentatively, he twitched his finger, inching it to comb through her auburn curls tenderly, careful not to stir her.
Then, a vague fragrance of lilies wafted past his nose, and it took all his might not to shudder with trepidation and secede from her.
This angel, this goddess had all but stripped him bare before her and told him she loved him.
Her dark, avenging angel of music would walk through fire for her.
She had surrendered herself to him willingly, allowing him to touch her in such intimate ways more than once, eliciting from her wordless sounds.
How she writhed beneath him as his hand stroked her with such preciseness that her body sang for him.
Though she couldn't see him, she could feel him—an angel's touch against the marred flesh of a monster.
She loved him.
He would kill a thousand men for her. He would burn the world for her.
Nothing would ever keep her from him.
Exhaling deeply, he tilted his chin down in the slightest, planting a lingerie kiss upon the crown of her head, and allowed his eyes to fall shut.
Just this once, he told himself. Just this once.
Sleep claimed him swiftly into a light sleep for the first time in his life, holding Christine just a little closer, with the hope that maybe in all his wretchedness, loving her would become his redemption.
"Christine?" Gustave called out to his daughter, his gaze switching between the staircase and the front window. In the far distance, he could make out the silhouette of a horse-drawn carriage slowly approaching. Once more, he called out to her, his tone more alert. "Christine!"
As if on cue, a loud gasp and thump echoed from above, followed by an expletive.
Bringing a closed fist to his mouth, he stifled a laugh as a loud clicking noise ensued, growing louder as she approached the stairway.
With careful steps, she lowered herself down step-by-step until she reached the landing, where Gustave outstretched a hand and took a suitcase from her, placing it beside the vestibule, allowing her to finish descending without tumbling in her petticoats.
She donned the yellow redingote Gustave had tailored for her. She claimed the one had been neglected in having her dignity sewn into it. He couldn't help but inwardly laugh at the irony.
Christine self-consciously brought her hands up to her opposing shoulders, arms crossed over her chest, blocking the view of the slight cleavage that was pronounced above the bodice. "How do I look?"
"That depends. How do you feel wearing it?" He counter-questioned.
She merely shrugged at his response, her hands falling to her sides. "I don't know". She twitched. "A little itchy". She scratched where the neckline had hugged tight against the top of her bosom.
He proffered a hand gesture in her direction. "Do you wish to take it off?"
"No", came her immediate reply. Perhaps it was because she responded so quickly, that it was followed by her statement. "I'll manage".
"Alright then".
There was a poignant pause as the carriage drew closer to hearing distance, and a pang of guilt struck him when he watched her eyes close and inhaled deeply as if she were about to enter battle.
Were there any words that could console this moment?
Unable to resist, with two big strides across the music room, he pulled her into his arms, his head craning down to place a kiss on her head.
It appeared as an overwhelming wave of emotions at the realization that his little girl, his Little Lotte was all grown up now.
His heart ached as she held him tight. Her body quivered with silent sobs, and she clenched her eyes shut. Everything she knew was about to change.
"You know I love you, don't you, Lotte?". Her father reminded her gently. His fingers combed through the curly tresses of her hair, and he sniffled.
"It will be alright, Lotte. Madame Giry will take good care of you. It may not seem it now, but in time you will see that you need more adventure than this place…I'd venture to agree that your mother would share my sentiments".
Christine merely nodded, not wanting to admit he was right or wrong. "I don't wish for you to be alone", she told him truthfully.
He shook his head. "Don't you worry about me, Christine? I'll be perfectly fine. God's truth I've never been happier to see you off on your journey. You need this Christine and say what you will, I will never regret this choice".
"I know you mean well by me. I trust you, Father. Promise". She patted his forearm gently.
The shadow from the carriage slowly crept past the window to a standstill and a man came down, approaching the front door.
Before releasing her father, she gave him two kisses. First, on his hand, then on his forehead, her lips quivering as she did so. "I love you, Father. I love you".
"And I you, my child". He turned his head to the door, where the carriage man awaited her. "Now go. Begin your adventure. Please be sure to write as soon as you have arrived so I may know you have arrived safely".
Gustave turned to the doorway and Christine interjected before his hand could reach the handle, mustering a smile. "I've got it".
"I know you do".
She carried herself with grace, and reached for the handle of the door, but not without turning back one last time.
Her father gave a soft smile and a short wave, and with all the confidence she could build, she opened the door and walked out.
The last memory of her father smiling at her would forever linger in her mind.
Alone in the music room, he watched from the window as she loaded her luggage onto the carriage, and whispered. "Now go Lotte. Go".
Christine's eyes slowly opened, willing herself to latch onto the last memory. Nothing could erase the sorrow or the terror that had struck the very heart of her soul.
She should have come earlier.
Perhaps then her life would've had an earlier resolution to the silent weight the grief had on her.
It didn't matter now. Now she was here, prepared to say her final goodbye with the confidence in being able to face the marker outside with courage.
Thankfully, she didn't have to face this alone.
Moments passed as Christine's mind began to clear, and she was met with a realization.
She was warm.
As so to be punctual for her lessons, Erik would often awake her long before the sun bordered the horizon, whereupon throwing back the covers, she would find herself met with a chill until she was once again covered, replaced by clothes or a robe.
But not today.
With her mind still clearing away the fogginess, the next thing she realized was that her body was curled around something rigid, the source of the warmth.
Instinctively, she curled closer, her limbs tightening in a stretch, then released with an exhale, paired with an almost inaudible hum.
Next was the angle at which her head had curled in, making out nothing in her closed or open vision but black.
Simultaneously, the vague familiar scent of mint and cinnamon washed over her and she felt her hand rise and fall.
Then the fog and haze were suddenly gone, with silent confirmation that she was not laying on her bed.
No.
She had slept in the arms of Erik, curled into his side with part of her limbs slung over him, and intertwining with his own.
Her Erik. The man with many names and pseudonyms.
Unconsciously, she released a long sigh and found comfort in planting the barest kiss upon his neck, pulling herself closer if it were even possible.
She loved him.
It was only a matter of time until it would not be an arduous burden to remove that mask in the light before her.
She soon found herself succumbing once more to the lulling haze of sleep. And with a gesture so light, she barely registered long fingers drifting atop her mass of curls to gently wrap around her shoulder.
"Sleep, Angel".
And she dreamt of nothing.
As if she had only blinked, Christine's eyes flew open, her body pivoting upwards like the strings of a marionette as she was abruptly roused by someone calling her name.
Her mind was a muddled, disoriented mess as she struggled to become cognizant of her surroundings, and only then did she become aware that Erik was hauling her to her feet with a firm hand supporting her waist, another grasping for her hand.
With nearly numb legs beneath her, she was ushered to an unknown place in the room, unable as of yet to make out anything in the darkness that still permeated the room.
"Erik what's-"
She was immediately cut off by a single finger meeting her lips with a hushed whisper, and her heart sunk in her chest at the nonverbal gesture.
Blind and confused, she tilted her head and squinted her eyes to the nearest light source, which emanated from the grand windows.
It was a decent time away from dawn, and the only colors that painted the sky were a deep hue of grey clouds which were guided by strong gusts of wind that whistled outside the windows.
"Were you expecting anyone to come here, Christine? Anyone but us?"
She thought for a long moment, she tried to recall her activity from the previous day. Had she interacted with anyone?
Nothing but a simple "bonjour" and "adieu" to a merchant selling provisions. She had donned her cloak above her head to avoid any recognition, less she wished for an onslaught of condolences from the society who hadn't even known them.
She shook her head fervently. "No. No it's just us". She reassured him, grasping his forearms with renewed vigor and holding tight.
It was then that she was able to make out the mismatched blue and hazel irises of his eye, the disfigured side of his face once again covered by the white porcelain.
Erik grimaced, his lips drawing in a thin line. "Not anymore", he spoke lower. Idly, he stared down at her wordlessly. In return, she met his in a quiet avowal.
What was going through his mind?
There was no time to think further as the sound of hooves approaching the house grew from faint to clear.
His voice was dangerously calm as he spoke. "You need to hide, Christine. Now!" He commanded sharply, gently prying her hands from him.
Refusing to concede, her grip only grew tighter, and she could see the beginning of frustration building in his eyes, his insistence becoming taut. "You're not going out there alone. This is my home", she told him earnestly.
Erik shook his head fervently and pried her fingers from him. Placing a rapid kiss upon her knuckles before dropping it. "Go now! I will not see you hurt", he urged her. "I will be back, I promise you". Silently he left the room, leaving her in the adjusting darkness.
"Erik, wait!" Her hands fell limply to her sides.
As her surroundings became much clearer, she found her instincts drove her to prepare a defense to protect him.
Not that it appeared he needed any valiant efforts on her behalf.
Barefoot, she skittered around the corridor to the kitchen, whereupon opening a drawer she had drawn upon her recollection, a pairing knife.
Christine carefully positioned it in her hand, her grip tightening on the handle with dreaded anticipation, her hand quivering.
She silently made her way back to the music room, her vision now having fully adjusted to the darkness, and swiftly pulled from the chaise her black robe and tied the sash tightly around her waist.
Edging over to the window, she peered through the panes to see nothing but a swishing tail in the distance, belonging to a midnight stallion tacked up in a stall beside Caesar.
There was no time to think further as sudden grunting from a man erupted outside the vestibule, sending Christine's mind spiraling into a panic, her chest rising and falling rapidly with trepidation, and she brought her empty hand up to rest on the flush of her chest.
A cold draft chilled the small beads of sweat that had begun to build at the base of her throat, and she shivered.
Erik, where are you? Already dead or bleeding?
The worst fears slipped into her thoughts unwittingly, and yet with no time left to contemplate her actions or choices, her hand flew to the door handle and swung it open with such force the frame rattled as it smacked the siding of the house.
Although her feet were met with the frozen, rigid ground, she immediately spotted to the left Erik with a cloaked figure struggling in front of him, his back facing him.
The cloaked man's hands were raised to his neck, fingers curled around an invisible object, from his voice emitting a sputtering, raspy gasp. Almost as if he were…
Before Christine could plead mercy for the intruder's life at the merciless hands of her dark angel's Punjab lasso, the hood slipped down past the nape of the man's neck, revealing ebony skin and an embroidered Astrakhan cap.
With the staggering revelation of Nadir's presence, Erik unwound the metal coil with a flick of his hand and it retracted back, now securely tucked away.
Meanwhile, Nadir knelt on the ground, restoring his deprived lungs with deep inhalations, hand holding his neck weakly, brows creased.
The fury in Erik's voice was sharp and furious. "You fool! I could've killed you! Of any time you could have casually strolled by," he spat with evident sarcasm and disdain, "you decide to show up unannounced under cover of night!"
Nadir simply shook his head as he stood, and Erik continued to ramble on.
"No matter the reason that brought you here at this ungodly hour, you best have a goddamn good reason to be here".
"Erik".
There was suddenly abrupt silence when he heard her, and he turned to face her, remaining where he stood.
Unbeknownst that she had stood only feet behind them for an unknown amount of time, his eyes raked up and down her form, observing her closely. And yet, there was no disbelief or surprise in his eyes.
It was almost as if he had anticipated her to follow him.
His eyes then fixated on her side, and it took several seconds to identify the source of his attention. She wordlessly traveled where his gaze landed, and recognition set in. The silver pairing knife still gripped tightly in her hand.
She let it fall from her hand, which then shakingly raised to her mouth in mute incredulity. She could've wounded Nadir.
"Father! Father! What's wrong?"
She staggered back a step, hands flying to her temple as if it could prevent the memories from resurfacing.
Her father was dead. Nadir could've been dead.
"Christine?"
'No, no, no'.
And there her father was, lying on the floor, hand clutching his chest as she gripped him for dear life.
"Please, no!"
Erik cursed under his breath, instantly at her side, pulling her small frame tight against him. With the utmost care, he took one hand and guided her towards the open door.
He looked to Nadir, never pausing in his steps, and tilted his head ever in the slightest, and he wordlessly followed.
Watching the two make their way through the vestibule, Nadir shut the door behind them and followed them into the music room.
"If we may be afforded a moment of privacy-"
"There's no need", Christine cut in suddenly, moving from his side to light candles around the room, slowly bringing light to the features of the room. She took a seat on the chaise which they had slept minutes before. Pulling her robe tighter together, legs crossing.
"I'm alright. Just startled".
Nadir removed his cloak as two chairs were pulled over and draped over the back, his eyes examining the room before flashing to Erik, who sat close to Christine, hands folded in his lap and his body slightly turned.
Rubbing his neck unconsciously, Nadir took a seat and cleared his throat. "How are you feeling Miss Daaé? Have there been any hindrances to your fine motor function?" He gestured towards her with a hand.
She shook her head, holding up her bandaged palm to view, and flexed her fingers. She pulled at the dressing with her other hand, "Do you wish for me to remove it?"
"No need, I believe you", his gaze flickered to the man beside him. "I trust Erik has been keeping you in good company?"
Erik's jaw tightened, head tilting towards the Persian, jaded eyes meeting his narrowed ones.
The tension that filled the room was palpable, and Cristine looked between the two men. "Very much so".
"Daroga, are you implying that you came here at this godforsaken hour of the morning for a welfare check?"
"I'm afraid we have a problem, old friend. One of which revolves around Mademoiselle Daaé", his eyes floated back to the young woman, whose lips formed into a grimace, her back straightening with a deep intake of air.
"Signor Piangi is dead. Murdered in Monsieur LeFevre's office yesterday morning", he spoke, his voice laced with solemn disturbance.
Christine froze, her breath caught. Although she only knew the tenor through basic pleasantries shared on the stage during rehearsals, the man had never been anything but sincere and pleasant to work with.
However the same couldn't be said for his lover of the Prima Donna. The very one she had attempted to put back together only days before.
She looked to Erik, who although did not seem to seem as visibly shocked at the news, nonetheless sounded astounded, and stood up, hands gripping the back of the chair. "How?"
Nadir opened his mouth to speak but closed in momentary thought. "I doubt that this would be beneficial for"
"How, Monsieur Khan?" Christine interrupted firmly.
There was a pause, and then, "Singor Piangi was stabbed in his chest", he breathed. "The gendarmes are investigating the scene now, but Signora Giudicelli was the one who found him lying on Monsieur LeFevre's desk in the early morning".
Now it was Christine's turn to stand, swiftly crossing the room to peek out the window, then drew the drapes shut. Why?
The man had not only just unknowingly stabbed the love of his life before a crowd of thousands of theater-goers, but he has now faced a horrible end.
A shiver coursed through her, what a horrible end.
She clutched his robe tighter to her if that were even possible.
"I understand the news is quite shocking, but there is a larger issue at the present that we must face, which is that Mademoiselle Daaé must return to the Opera House immediately". Nadir stood, and Christine moved back to the two men.
She looked to Erik, who seemed to be in deep contemplation. "I don't understand, though. What does any of this have to do with me?"
Nadir looked at her, guilty. "The gendarmes are looking to question you, Christine. Only days prior you saved Signora Giudicelli's life, but now that Signor Piangi is dead-"
"They suspect her to be involved", Erik finished for him, his voice deadly. "Of all people, they suspect her".
Christine's hand settled on his shoulder, disbelief, and confusion crossing her features. "There is nothing we can do from here?"
Nadir sighed deeply. "I'm afraid not. It will only deepen their suspicion of involvement. You must return, as we've very little time before they send out gendarmes".
She moved to walk to the staircase before a hand gently grasped her forearm. "You must know that the Opera House is in lockdown. Everyone else has been accounted for, except for yourself. Hence the urgency in this matter, Christine".
Christine nodded her head slowly, moving upstairs toward her chamber. Below her angry roar resounded, echoing upstairs.
It was only when she closed the door to her room that could she feel her heartbeat quicken, hand raised to her heart, back against the door.
She breathed deeply in an attempt to help calm her nerves.
There was no time for hesitation as she quickly crossed the room, removing her clothing and redressing hurriedly.
There was no time to pack as she pulled on her chemise, corset, petticoat, and wool stockings, followed by tightly lacing her boots.
Throwing on her gifted black cloak, she pinned the edges of the hood atop her pulled-back unruly curls.
There was no time to say goodbye to her home, unknown of when she would return next.
On the landing, she found Nadir alone in the music room, standing up on an overturned chair, features fatigued. A creak on the steps drew his attention.
Glancing around the room, Nadir immediately noticed. "He is preparing Caesar for the long journey ahead".
The tone of his voice was genuine, "I truly am sorry, Mademoiselle Daaé. If there had been any other way to avoid this…"
Christine acknowledged him with a nod. "Thank you". Finishing her descent, Christine headed straight towards the doors leading to the stables, and true to his word, found Erik standing beside Caesar, inspecting the saddle.
The frigid night air of winter bit at her nose, a blush unintentionally rising to her cheeks. Her cloak billowed below her waist in the gentle breeze that brushed past.
A sense of guilt ate away at her. These men were both here for her, because of her, and now in the darkness of night, they were preparing to lead her back in the cold of winter on a long journey back to the place which held an unknown fate.
And yet… she couldn't help but see that something more had blossomed. She had come here for one sole purpose and reason.
To grieve the loss of the one she once loved most.
But now…
"Christine? You shouldn't be out here yet!" Erik admonished in a steady stride towards her.
It was then that she gained a better sight of him as he no longer stood behind Caesar, dressed only in black riding boots, black trousers, and an ivory tunic that hung low and untied, exposing a small portion of the muscled plains of his chest.
Her eyes quickly diverted back to his mismatched ones, "I was just coming outside to see if I could help somehow".
And there it was, a small grin graced his lips. "No need, everything is complete". He extended a hand to her. "Come, I will prepare myself and we shall leave momentarily".
She stared at his hand for a long moment before sliding her fingers into the palm of his.
As if he could sense her unease, he hooked a finger below her chin, and gently guided it upwards to meet his gaze.
Nothing needed to be said.
"Erik, I don't know what will happen. It frightens me", she spoke, bringing his hand to meet her lips before resting it on her cheek, her hand still entwined with his.
He shook his head fervently. "Nothing will come to harm you, Christine. On this, mon ange, you have my vow".
Her eyes drifted shut, and she breathed deeply.
Erik cupped her cheek gently, and he leaned forward, his lips folding over hers softly.
Her lips responded instantly, a warmth blooming in her chest at the gesture.
"I love you, Erik".
Behind them, Nadir cleared his throat, his hands folded behind his back, a knowing look in his eyes.
"I apologize for the interruption. However, I'm afraid this is an urgent matter, and we must be on our way", he reminded.
Christine nodded, and Erik led her inside to the vestibule before leaving to collect himself.
She could feel Nadir's eyes on her as they both waited patiently for Erik to return.
Almost as predicted, she asked, "How are you feeling, truly, Miss Daaé?"
Turning, she responded. "The time that has passed may have only been days, but the years of grief that once plagued me have substantially alleviated".
She looked at Nadir and flashed him a wide smile. "Thank you for all that you have done to help us. I imagine riding in the cold and dark of night such as this was no easy task".
Nadir waved a dismissive hand. "Antoinette knew I would be the only one who could leave the Opera House without suspicion".
Christine raised a suspicious brow, but the look she gave him was knowing. "Antoinette?"
He laughed nervously, shuffling his feet in place. "Don't get me started-"
"I wouldn't dare", Christine teased.
At that moment, Erik returned, fully dressed to face the brisk temperature. Christine almost didn't notice the violin case in his hand, which matched the color of his cloak.
Christine gave a small gasp, "Erik-"
"I wouldn't dare leave this behind. Now go extinguish the candles and we shall be on our way", he strode past them and Nadir followed, leaving Christine to extinguish the remaining light in her childhood home.
She was very quick in her task and didn't glance back into the darkness of the home before stepping outside and locking the door leading into the vestibule.
In a hurried pace, she made her way to the stable, where Nadir had already mounted his steed and Erik stood next to Caesar waiting.
Arms stretched out and prepared, Erik lifted her with practiced ease and she swooped her legs over the saddle and her feet into the stirrups. She gripped the reins as Erik settled himself behind her.
She heard him ask behind her. "Ready?"
Christine nodded, and with a light slap to flank, Caesar whinnied and sped into a steady gallop. Leaving her home on the cliff above the sea.
Goodbye father.
Hello everyone! Thank you so much for the kind reviews and support over my long absence! Since the last chapter I posted, I have graduated college with my Bachelor's degree, and am now a Special Education Preschool Teacher! My life has been a whirlwind of excitement, and I can't wait to continue this journey with these characters!
-Emma51020