Chapter 7: Somewhere Inside Hiding
"You're him. The Phantom of the Opera".
"I am called many names, my dear. But you may call me Erik".
Christine went back to the bin in the corner of the room, lighting all the candles. She disposed of the match and leaned against the wall next to the window.
Her angel…no, Erik broke the silence first as Christine pieced together her train of thought. "Why do you not run, my dear? Do I not scare you now that you know my cursed alias?"
Christine looked up to the eyes in the wall. "Have you ever given me a reason to run? To be afraid of you?"
Erik chuckled. "You have much to be afraid of, Christine". Christine shivered at the way her name rolled off his tongue.
Christine frowned and crossed her arms in front of her chest. She walked to stand before the painted angel. "Two and a half years and you think your alias will scare me off? I am not so easily scared, Mon Ange Noir. Rumors are worth nothing if the source is unreliable". Christine picked at the hem on her robe absentmindedly.
"Mon Ange Noir….You are quite complex, my dear. You never cease to surprise me, with all your…charm", he spoke genuinely, and Christine wondered what he could be thinking.
Christine raised her head to meet his eyes through the wall. "I've learned only the best from my tutor".
While she could not see him in his entirety, she could see his eyes wide in revelation. "Now I have a request to make. More of a question, actually. First I would like to know if it was you who poisoned Joseph Buquet".
"Would you be dreadfully upset if I told you the truth?"
"Saying those words is all the truth I needed", Christine gulped, looking down to her feet. "Is he dead?"
"According to my sources, he remains alive. I am more than well aware of the vile man's reputation, and after that letter you and Little Giry decided to write, quite amusing to read, I might add, I handled the situation", he told her. She could almost hear the humor in his dulcet voice.
"Thank you. My second question, do you still wish to continue teaching me?" Christine hoped nothing would change. He had never done wrong by her, save for that one month of absence.
"I should be the one asking you that question, my dear. But if you so wish it to be, then it shall be".
Christine released a breath she did not realize she had been holding. "My request. I wish for our lessons to be in the physical presence of one another. I do not wish to continue singing to a wall". Christine may have made it a request, but she more or less demanded it.
"My dear, that is the one thing for which I cannot oblige you. I told you from the moment we began that this was for your safety and mine, and I maintain that perspective".
She shot him a defiant stare, her hand's fisting in the fabric of his cloak. "Do you not have faith in me? No trust after all this time? What must I do to make you understand?"
Erik sighed, and she could see his eyes close. "Do not ask it of me, Christine. I stand by my word".
Christine's heart sunk in her chest. "So you do not believe in me? You must think so little of me. After all this time you've been able to see me, what happened to my privacy Erik?" She spat the words bitterly.
All she wanted was this one thing. Why was it so hard for him to even consider the idea?
"You made the choice to step out at Christmas. But now you shut me out!" She began to raise her voice. "You see everything I do, and yet all I ask is to be beside your person as you teach me. I have done everything you have asked of me, and all I ask is this one thing!"
"Christine-" He tried to interrupt but Christine simply shook her head.
"One lesson then. Could you oblige me with one single lesson in your presence?"
The response in his voice was exasperated. "I can't, my dear. It does not matter how much either of us wishes for it to be, it must remain this way".
"You can't or you won't?" She questioned him furiously.
Silence.
"Both".
"Then I shall not awaken to your calls until you can promise me one lesson with you", she said directly.
"Christine!"
Undoing the strings on the cape, she tossed it to the floor before her angel and spun on her heel.
"Christine, do not walk away from me!" He commanded from behind her.
"Watch me!" She shouted at him defiantly. She could hear him calling her name as she continued up the stairs, leaving him to his thoughts.
If this was what she must do, then it must be done.
Four days passed, and Erik didn't call to her once. And quite frankly, Christine wondered if she had made a mistake. How could he believe it was safe for her to be having lessons in a chapel first thing in the morning? If anyone had once walked in on her lessons, they would probably think she was out of her mind talking to herself.
He was perfectly safe standing behind his facades. The standards were seemingly fair to him, but not to her.
Knowing now who he was, Christine's perception seemed to be more attentive to the small details. She had begun to convince herself that the slightest changes in the schedule and the considerable absence of Carlotta were his doing.
That was until the Prima Donna herself made herself known to everyone by strutting onto the stage in her ornate black bustle dress and gray furs draped over her elbows, topped with a small hat that had a white feather protruding from the top.
Monsieur Reyer tentatively handed her the music sheets with shaky hands and she all but snatched them from him with her lips formed into a sneer. Her eyes kept moving to Christine, who stood up straight with her arms crossed over her chest.
There was no way in Hell she was going to give this woman any satisfaction of backing down from her demands that she barked at everyone else. Meg and Élodie stood beside each other at the edge of the curtain, watching Christine's body language and Carlotta's reaction.
Christine could distantly hear their giggles behind her, and she almost felt one creep upon her face, but any thoughts of it were erased when the Prima Donna shot a death glare at her. Christine raised a brow in response.
A harsh tap of a cane on the floor had Christine gracefully scrambling to the barre to warm up with the other corps de ballet. Élodie stood in front of her and Meg stood behind her, both snickering under their breath.
"My God, Christine, did you see her face? It was absolutely priceless! No one would dare to approach you after that confrontation from so long ago! You truly have gained quite the reputation!" Élodie complimented.
Meg tapped on her shoulder as Madame Giry turned her head, and Christine craned her neck back ever so slightly. "Christine, I noticed you haven't received a rose yet this week. Does this mean you've met him? If so, you must tell me who he is!"
If only she knew, Christine thought, laughing inwardly.
The amused emotion was quickly replaced with disappointment upon the thought of him.
Erik…. Her dark angel's name was Erik. The Phantom of the Opera had unmasked his name to her, but not himself. Of course, she understood it was for good reason that he obviously did not show himself in the presence of others, but why could he not simply lead her to him as he had done with his voice.
That rich, deep, dulcet voice that entranced her in more ways than one.
She wondered if he would actually consider what she told him, or if he would simply cease to make contact with her at all following the argument. The thought of it tugged at her heartstrings.
The corps de ballet departed from the barre and went into formation onto the stage, beginning the first rehearsal of Carmen.
It was then that she realized that she had not responded to Meg. But she knew better than to reveal Erik's identity.
Throughout the rehearsal, Christine's mind was flooded with question after question.
Where did he reside in the opera house? Was his deformity truly as terrible as described? What would he do with 20,000 francs a month? She would not utter a single complaint about it, but she wondered why he chose to be her angel of music.
Who hurt him so terribly that after all this time he couldn't hold an ounce of trust in her?
Was there anything she could do to help him? By God, if he could ever let her in.
Christine was by no means naive. Her father had raised her to understand the world they lived in. She understood that as a woman, she didn't have the same privileges as men. She understood that everyone expected her to be married off with a progeny on the way.
Everything she ever knew was music. Music was her whole life, and she had never known anything else. She couldn't imagine deviating from her musical path. She didn't want to be what society wanted her to be. Some dreamless docile wife.
She wondered what her life would be like right now if her father hadn't died. If he hadn't sent her to the opera house. If she hadn't met her angel of music.
Christine laid in bed that night curled up into a ball. She held her pillow tightly to her stomach, feeling utterly alone. She couldn't talk to Meg or Élodie. She certainly could not talk to Madame Giry if it was true she was Erik's confidant. God knows what she would think of her! She was not ashamed of who Erik was in the slightest, but she feared the older woman's reaction if she was to find out.
From outside the room, she could hear the clock chime twice, and she knew at this point she would not be able to sleep.
Sitting up, she slipped out of bed and dressed warmly. She could see snow falling gracefully past the window. Stepping into the bathroom, she stepped into a rosewood-colored bustle dress, its skirt hovering just a fraction of an inch from the ground. She brought a thick black shawl over her shoulders, fastening the ends together with a button. She laced her boots up and slipped on her gloves.
Christine gazed into the mirror and nodded in satisfaction, leaving the room quietly.
The hallways were pitch black as she descended the stairs, and she surely hoped she wouldn't trip, and much to her relief, she didn't. Walking outside, she picked out a bunch of white lilies and handed the coins to the sleepy merchant before walking over to the carriage.
"Please take me to Pàre Lachaise".
The driver yawned as he stepped into the carriage in the front with his hand extended to her, and she placed the small pouch of coins into his hand. He made sure to count it before nodding and getting the horse's attention with the snap of a whip against the ground beside them.
Christine watched as the snowfall began to come down heavier than before, and she hoped it would not worsen later when she was to return to the opera house.
The carriage came to a halt as it pulled up beside the giant iron gates. Christine whispered thanks and stepped out and into the cemetery, the key to her father's mausoleum in her gloved hand.
The ground was blanketed in a thick sheet of snow, and Christine hitched up her skirts to not let it drag. She couldn't deny that the cemetery was a beautiful sight in the winter. The snow made everything appear brighter and it coated the wings of every angel statue she passed.
As she approached the mausoleum, she could see the now wilted flowers hanging from weak stems. Christine frowned. She was under the impression that the sexton would have upkept it by removing the dead flowers. She replaced the wilted lilies with the fresh ones, sidestepping to unlock the metal grate.
Walking inside the mausoleum, she felt the winter wind cease its torment on her. Pulling a box of matchsticks off a shelf, she lit a candle that sat in a stand beside the wall her father's full name had been engraved into. She knelt on the small rug she had placed in front of the engraved wall, folding her hands together and slipping her fingers between each other, lowering her head slightly.
"Hello, father. I'm sorry I have not visited as much as I should have, and for that, I apologize. I seem to be facing a complicated predicament at the moment. I have discovered that my angel of music is not the man I thought he was, and now he does not trust me".
She lifted her eyes to the engraved name and lightly traced it with her finger.
"What I would give to have you here beside me, to give me advice in such a difficult situation such as this. What am I to do, father? My dark angel is the Phantom of the Opera, and yet it is not his alias that scares me, but rather his lack of trust in me. After all this time, I would've thought that he would have some sort of faith in me…"
Christine sighed. "But I also wonder if I pushed him too far. But it feels only right for me to be able to have one voice lesson a week in his physical presence. Why is he allowed to see me, but I may not see him? But what if the chapel is the only place he can safely give me my lessons? Why would he keep pushing me away from him? He knows I do not fear him!"
A disturbing realization overcame her as she spoke those last words.
"Oh, God. What if it is because of his deformity? He fears I will never see him the same way! He fears my reaction! It was never a matter of fearing him, it was a matter of fearing his face! How foolish I have been to not realize it sooner! I must apologize to him!" Christine raced to her feet and left the mausoleum, locking the metal gate behind her.
Christine gasped as the snow prediction from earlier came true, coming down heavily. Snowflakes constantly landed on her eyelashes, making her blink rapidly. She could barely see the path ahead of her through the thick snowfall!
The angels she had stared at earlier with only a dusting of snow on their wings were barely visible, and strong winds carried already lain snow around her.
It took her several minutes to get to the giant iron gates, but the carriage was nowhere to be found upon arriving there.
The driver had left without her!
Christine silently cursed, lifting her skirts as she began to trudge back to the opera house.
She could feel her hair begin to dampen and turn cold as the snow melted. Christine shivered, wrapping the shawl tighter around her.
Her mind was on anything but the cold. She had not listened to her angel! She had denied him the opportunity to further explain himself. Gods, how could she be so stupid? She couldn't begin to imagine the horrible things he must be thinking about her!
Christine could only hope it wasn't too late to apologize to him. Her poor angel of darkness!
Tears flooded her eyes at the memory. How she had been so terrible to him! She picked up her pace and began running. Everything in her vision was white, and she ran to the point where she could no longer recognize anything within view.
A rumbling sound emerged from far behind her and she stepped to the side, hoping whatever was coming wouldn't unknowingly run her over in the thick snowfall.
Christine's feet had long turned numb, but she continued to run, unwilling to let the cold stop her.
The rumbling noise became louder behind her, and Christine stepped off the road and behind a tree, leaning against it to momentarily catch her breath.
The noise became louder, and Christine vaguely recognized the sound as a horse's hooves.
But then the noise suddenly stopped, and Christine's breath hitched. Why did they stop? Why were they so close to her? She knew this to be a forest path!
Her heart sunk in her chest as she turned her head and she could barely make out the black figure standing several feet from her in the darkness of the morning.
A gasp left Christine's lips and she lifted her skirts, racing away from the figure. Oh God, this person was surely going to kill her! She should've listened to her father when he told her not to leave the opera house alone!
Christine did not make it far before the figure that had once been a slight distance from her placed its hand upon her forearm in a snug grip. She turned towards the figure and swung a fist in its direction.
She'd be damned if she didn't go down without a fight!
The figure seemed to interpret her move as it caught her other hand in its gloved grasp.
Christine let out a choked cry. "Please don't do this! Let me go, please!" The tears that had flooded her eyes earlier blurred her vision, and Christine screamed. "No! Please let me go!"
The figure pulled her to it, turning her so her back met its chest. The hands that had held her forearm and wrist moved to wind around the front of her midsection and covered her mouth, muffling her screams.
Christine writhed in its hold, and she opened her mouth and bit down on the figure's hand. She could hear a pained groan leave its lips. Then suddenly its breath was upon her ear.
"Christine…It is me..You are safe, my angel".
She suddenly stiffened, her posture relaxing ever so slightly. But she could still feel the relentless, harsh beating of her heart as it pounded against its cage.
His hand left her mouth, and she all but whispered to him. "Mon Ange?" Then his other hand left her midsection and Christine spun to face him.
Her angel donned all black, and a hood hung over his head, but she could make out two hazel eyes and the edge of white porcelain. He placed his hands upon her shoulders looking over her appearance.
"Oh gods, I hurt you!" She reached to pull the glove off his hand, but he swiftly pulled it away. She looked up at him in confusion.
"A perfectly reasonable reaction if you were actually being kidnapped".
Christine slapped her hands over her eyes and sobbed. "I'm so sorry Mon Ange! It's all my fault, I denied you the opportunity to explain your reasoning to me. I will understand if you no longer wish to see me ..."
Erik pulled her into his chest, wrapping his strong arms around her, shrouding her in the darkness of his cloak. "It is I who am sorry, my dear. I should have entertained the thought instead of shutting you down. It is I who is the wicked one!"
Christine shook her head in his chest. "Please forgive me! You must know that I don't care about your face! I don't care about your deformity! I care about you, and that is all that matters!"
She felt Erik freeze against her. Oh God, she must have done it again! Pushing him away again. But then she heard him release a long breath.
"That is a discussion for when we return, my dear". Warm, gentle hands cupped her cheeks and his hand recoiled as it met her skin. Christine shivered.
"Your skin is like ice! Come, we must get you back quickly. I'll be damned if you fall ill because of me". He made haste as he guided her to a black horse that waited patiently next to the tree she had stood behind.
She watched Erik remove his cloak and wrap it tightly around her, and numb fingers pulled the familiar fabric closer. He lifted her onto the back of the horse and swung himself up behind her. He pulled her front into his chest and she curled closer to him, winding her hands around his waist. One hand securely fastened itself around her back while another grabbed a hold of a rein.
"Caesar, go!" He commanded, lightly tapping the horse with the side of his boot. The horse neighed and picked up a fast gallop. Christine shivered again as the cold breeze blew above her, snowflakes melting into her already wet hair.
"We'll be there soon, my dear. Hold tight to me", he whispered in her ear softly.
Christine's arms tightened around him, and she felt Caesar move faster from under her. Her eyes fluttered shut and she deeply inhaled the scent of mint and cinnamon.
All thoughts of the last four days left her mind, and then all there was was him.
Her angel of darkness.
Christine didn't know how much time had passed, but she began to rouse when Caesar went from a gallop to a slow trot, and finally a stop. Erik's hand drew small circles on her back and she felt her face flush when she realized how close she was to him.
Pulling back, she looked around to see that it was still pitch black around them. She rubbed at her eyes as they adjusted to the dark.
"How are you feeling?" He asked her quietly, the hand on her back rising to the junction of her neck and shoulder, keeping her upright.
Christine blushed, and she hoped he could not see. "Better. I do not feel as cold as before.." she pinched the cloak in her hands. "How long have I been asleep?"
"The storm caused a bit of a delay, but I would estimate a half-hour". Keeping the hand on her neck, he swung a leg over Caesar and slid down to the ground silently. He hovered his other hand near her waist. "Can you walk?"
Christine wiggled her toes, testing to see if they were numb. She released a relieved sigh when she could feel the prickling sensation that bit at them. Nodding, she placed a hand upon his shoulder unconsciously as she came down beside him.
Latching her hand in his, he guided her down an alley before coming upon a grate. Seconds later followed by a click, they descended through corridors left and right. Christine had to give him credit for being able to maneuver so skillfully in the darkness of the tunnels.
They soon came upon two small holes of light in the wall ahead of them, and Christine had a feeling she knew exactly where they were.
And then the wall of the chapel opened.
Christine froze in her spot as he stepped into the room, the hood still draped over his head. She shook her head as he gestured for her to come to him with his hand.
"Please don't make me do this Erik. I can't stand having this wall between us!" Her voice came out as a whisper.
Erik disappeared from sight for several moments, and there was rustling in the corner before he returned with a candle in a holder and matchstick.
A small orange flame lit up the walls of the tunnel around them as he stepped back in with her, closing the wall behind him.
Christine looked up to his hood and she tentatively raised a hand. "May I?"
There was a long pause before his head bowed down. "I can deny you nothing".
With gentle hands, Christine unveiled her angel.
Curiosity reigned her senses as her hand grazed across his cheek. His eyes closed at the contact and she watched as he attempted to subside his trembling.
"I will never hurt you, Mon Ange Noir. Never again". Her hand spread across the left side of his face, her thumb grazing the edge of his malformed lip that peeked out ever so slightly from the edge of his mask. It then found its way under his chin and across his cheek. She reached up to his towering form and softly moved across his forehead, his head, his eyebrow, his eyes.
His hair was dark brown, nearly black, and was expertly combed back. His white porcelain mask covered the other half of his face, shielding the deformity from sight.
"You are a handsome, beautiful man, Erik", she told him with admiration.
How had her angel fallen so far?
Erik chuckled darkly. "You can convince yourself to believe that all you want. But underneath this…." He raised a hand in front of his porcelain mask. "...This facade, lies only a monster underneath".
Christine frowned. "You appall me with the insults you continuously direct at yourself". Christine held her right hand on his cheek as the other went to rest on his waist. "It is your choice to believe me, but I speak only the truth".
Erik shook his head in denial, and his hand wound itself to rest on her cheek while his fingers tangled in her hair, and she leaned into his touch. "No one could ever compliment such an abhorrent face such as this one…" his gaze went anywhere other than her eyes, and Christine gripped him tighter.
"Look at me, Mon Ange Noir. I beg you".
Slowly, his hazel eyes moved to hers, and Christine found herself drowning in them. "After all this time, you have shown me compassion. The world can be cruel, Erik, and I'm so sorry for the pain and the hurt inflicted upon you".
He flinched at the words. "Do not pity me, my dear. It is quite unbecoming of you".
"It is not pity, Mon Ange. You are not the only one who has seen the cruelty of the world", she spoke distastefully, tearing her gaze from his.
His grip on her grew tighter. "Someone has hurt you too". It wasn't a question, but Christine nodded.
"A story I do not wish to share at the moment, Mon Ange Noir".
There was a sudden silence between them, but Christine could feel Erik's eyes staring down at her.
"I am a monster, Christine, a dangerous man…" he moved closer to her and Christine stepped back until she felt the wall behind her.
"You are not a monster, Erik. Not to me. You have never hurt me. I trust you", she said softly. She lifted her hand, this time to caress the masked side of his face.
His eyes closed again. He didn't cower from her, even as his trembling became more noticeable.
"Why, Christine? How could you be so accepting of this? Of me?" His voice quivered, and Christine smiled.
"Because I can see there is beauty underneath"
Erik towered over her, his hands resuming at the junction of her neck and shoulder. His other hand roamed further back into her hair, and his gaze bore down into hers.
Christine could feel the familiar tightening sensation in her lower stomach as he came closer to her. She gripped the lapel of his coat with one hand where the other caressed his face.
How was it possible to feel this way? This was only her second physical encounter with him, and they were this close. An undeniable attraction to her dark angel. This dark angel whose unearthly voice beckoned her to him.
How had they suddenly become so close in such an intimate way that defied the bounds of propriety? The slightest touch from him invoked these unfamiliar, foreign feelings within her that were unexplainable.
Soon, his chest was pressed to hers and her head had craned up to meet his eyes. A shiver coursed through her.
His voice resembled music as it left his lips. "You are mine, Christine. My angel of music". He gripped her tighter to him and she released a shuddering gasp.
"Do you truly care for me with such sentiment?" His breath tickled her ear and Christine could feel a warmth pooling between her legs.
She nodded her head. "I do".
His face slowly descended to her and her eyes closed of their own accord, her head tilting slightly to the side.
She could feel his warm breath upon her lips as his hovered over hers. After several seconds of none of them moving to come closer, she opened her eyes, and she saw a flicker of conflict within the depths of his hazel eyes.
He was hesitating to kiss her, and some part of Christine wondered if she had done something wrong.
"If you so want it to be, we may have our lessons together…in the physical presence of one another".
She looked up at him. "Don't make this decision because of me. Do this because you want to".
"My dear, I believe it to be long overdue for a houseguest", his comment held humor.
Christine laughed. The dreaded Phantom of the Opera made her laugh.
"As you wish, Mon Ange Noir".
Hello, my lovelies! Alright so I felt a bit weird writing Christine this chapter, and how suddenly the realization came to her, but I didn't want to drag it out either as if she was clueless. My Christine is a perceptive woman who has unfortunately made mistakes, but has made them better! Feel free to review, they make my day even brighter! Until next time!
Your Obedient Servant
-Emma51020