Much love and hugs to my beta Phantom Sith for putting up wit my never-ending shenanigans and keeping me honest.
The music was swelling all around him. Reaching and climbing ever higher.
It flowed through his fingertips like a living, breathing thing; an extension of his very soul as the beautiful grand piano bowed under his mastery.
His nocturne filled the room, the somber notes weaving a solemn tale of overwhelming love and heartbreaking loss.
As Erik closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting the song gradually fill him, an indistinct rhythm crept slowly in, attempting to find harmony with his soaring refrains.
His head twitched at the sound, keen sense of hearing honing in immediately on what he knew was a soft but stunning soprano.
Its lilting tones were subdued and distant, almost hesitant to join with his creation. As he continued to play, it grew in confidence.
It was mesmerizing in its clarity, adding a perfect complement to his masterpiece, though it continued to remain on the outskirts, curious but unwilling to venture any further.
The voice, even in its reticence, gripped Erik with a sadness and longing so profound that its power threatened to consume him.
Utterly enthralled, Erik knew beyond certainty that they were meant to find each other, her and him.
His music and her voice were like two strands of melody that, once entwined, would fill their souls to completion –
A discordant note rang out and the voice vanished like a whisp in the air.
Erik sat, frozen at the piano, unable to play any further. He stared at the sheet music, desperately searching for the right notes, but the final section had been jarringly cut off, leaving his composition unfinished.
The silence that pervaded the room was stifling, and so once more Erik began to play, hoping for a different outcome. Yet again, the final note rang out over and over, harsh and cacophonous to his ears.
Still, he continued, mashing the keys in growing agitation, the chord's dissonance growing in its repetitive and unrelenting harshness, until…
Thud-thud-thud—!
Erik's eyes shot open as the dream evaporated, the piercing clang of piano keys quickly morphing into a series of sharp, repetitive knocks coming from his front door.
He lay there for a moment, head swimming as he was caught between the boundary of awake and asleep. His mind was so rattled from the intensity of the dream, that he struggled to grasp what the noise even was, much less focus on where it was coming from.
After a few more seconds, wherein the irritating racket seemed to finally fall silent, Erik came more fully awake. Closing his eyes once again, he took a deep, cleansing breath and stretched languidly, his jaw cracking with a drawn-out yawn.
Sitting up slowly, Erik bowed his head and rubbed the grit from his eyes, waiting for the last bits of drowsiness to fade.
Thud-thud-thud—!
Erik's entire body jolted as the clamoring resumed once again, startling him so unexpectedly that he had to grab the couch cushion to anchor himself.
What the fuck? he thought, his entire body stiffening with increasing anxiety as his heart thundered within his chest.
Erik rose from the couch as quickly as he was able, his leg protesting vehemently and very nearly buckling from wearing the prosthetic while he slept. Rubbing the area of his stump he could reach to ease the throbbing pain into dull manageability, he was just about to take a tentative step forward when—
"Erik?" a faint murmur emanated from beyond the entryway.
Erik stood dead still; his eyes locked on the door as realization rapidly sunk in.
Christine, he winced. Shit.
Recovering quickly, he shuffled over to the door and opened it with a jerk, distressed to find that she had already turned away, shoulders sagging as she made her way toward the stairwell.
"Christine!" Erik called to her, his voice straining and sending a jarring echo around the confined space.
She whipped around to face him, a paper bag clutched tightly under her arm, her wide-eyed gaze telling him that she was on edge. He felt the heat of embarrassment slithering down his spine as he struggled to come up with something more to say.
"Don't go…please," he croaked, his voice slightly raspy from sleep. Erik's cheek twitched, his throat wobbling as he fought a nervous exhale.
Christine had yet to respond, but he could hear the harsh staccato of her breaths as she looked at him with such earnestness and naked yearning in her eyes that Erik felt as if she was holding her heart in her hands.
He was suddenly struck with the overwhelming certainty he would do anything to ensure that she would never know the bitter sting of disappointment again.
Shuffling toward her, Erik took the bag from her hands with a delicateness that belied his gruff disposition, whispering, "I didn't forget. Honestly, I just…was more tired than I realized. My pain medication…" he trailed off, uncertain if it was prudent to delve any further into that abyss.
"It…happens sometimes," Erik continued in a poor attempt at reassurance.
For a long, tension-filled moment, they simply stood there. Neither of them said a word, but each of them was hanging precariously on the other's response.
With agonizing slowness, a shy smile flitted across Christine's face, Erik looked on gratefully as something like immense relief washed over them both.
"It's all right," she told him, rolling her eyes as she playfully cuffed him in the shoulder. "Nobody's perfect."
Her gentle act of affection caused an unexpected surge of warmth to flood him, his shoulder tingling from her touch.
At Erik's intense gaze, Christine giggled shyly, unable to meet his eyes. Tilting her head a little, she gestured toward his door.
Erik wanted to move, desperately, but couldn't seem to make his legs follow his mental commands. She must've found his hesitance somewhat amusing because she just shook her head, rolling her eyes in exasperation.
God, she's beautiful, the thought came to him unbidden…but not necessarily unwanted as Erik watched her turn away and traipse right into his apartment without a care in the world.
He looked on as Christine made her way over to the coffee table, sat down, and proceeded to unload sandwiches and other items from the paper bag.
"I'm just gonna…" he trailed off, absently pointing a thumb in the direction of the bathroom. She nodded, attention still focused on the food, and Erik didn't wait another second before disappearing down the hall.
Wasting no time, he went to the bathroom where he removed his mask and splashed cool water over his ruined face. Then, he ran a hand through mussed hair and downed a Numorphan, for pain, faster than he'd ever done before.
He couldn't understand why he felt the sudden need to go to all this effort. They didn't know each other all that well…still, he wasn't going to turn himself into knots trying to figure it out. Not now, anyway, when she was out there waiting for him.
Taking a deep, fortifying breath to pull himself together, Erik shuffled out into the living room and sat down on the couch, this time a bit closer to Christine than he'd been that morning.
She'd shown him a level of kindness that he wasn't used to being on the receiving end of, so he didn't want it to seem like he was intentionally pulling away or avoiding her proximity.
This whole thing between them was awkward enough as it was, and he figured that bending just a little wouldn't hurt him…much.
"I, uh…I wasn't sure how you'd want yours so I just ordered them both plain," she remarked, handing him one of the sandwiches. As she passed it to him, the tips of their fingers lingered a bit longer than was necessary, just grazing each other and causing what felt like a jolt of electricity to pass between them.
Christine shivered, which Erik did not miss before she unwrapped her corned beef.
Erik looked away just as swiftly, swallowing down a clump of nerves and unwrapping his own sandwich. Grabbing a condiment packet, he held it out to her and murmured, "Nothing should touch corned beef but mustard anyway. Anyone who says otherwise is lying to you."
Christine let out a bark of laughter around her lunch, slapping a hand over her mouth to keep from embarrassing herself by spitting food all over him. She started coughing vociferously, her barely repressed chuckling making it difficult to swallow. Hurriedly grabbing a bottle of soda, she took a long sip to help it down.
Erik had only taken a few bites of his sandwich before Christine's unexpected reaction and found he was unable to do anything but sit there in stunned silence.
Reaching out a tentative hand to pat her back, Erik stopped short, hovering just inches over the space between her shoulders. He could feel the warmth emanating from her, even through her sweater. He closed his eyes, frightened by the relaxing sensation, but slowly curled that hand into a fist and retreated. Then, he handed her a napkin and whispered, "Are you all right? I didn't mean to…startle you."
"Oh! No…no…I'm all right," she assured him, her voice pitching up slightly in restrained mirth at his obvious but needless worry. "It's just you have a very…wry sense of humor. It reminds me of—" she stopped short, her inviting smile faltering and warm gaze shuttering instantly.
Erik was certain she'd wanted to say more. He couldn't help but notice the slight glistening in her eyes of unshed tears, even as she turned away abruptly to continue eating and somehow knew that whatever secrets Christine kept locked away were just as devastating as his own.
Perhaps even more so.
The level of discomfort between them seemed to elevate to agonizing levels. Neither could think of anything to say to mend the sudden chasm growing between them and so they quietly ate their lunch, an uneasy silence permeating the room.
As he chewed, Erik couldn't help the sly shift of his gaze over to Christine. Something inside him needed to know that she was all right; that he hadn't brought misery to another innocent person's life.
She didn't appear to notice…at least, that was what he thought at first. A few long seconds passed and then, almost as if she could sense his eyes on her, Christine's gaze flitted to the side, just enough for them to glimpse each other's mutual scrutiny.
They turned their attentions away in haste. Erik's hand clawed at his good leg as it bounced restlessly. In turn, Christine reached for her drink with a trembling hand and downed the last dregs of her soda with a long, discomfiting gulp.
The startling noise was enough to make Erik nearly jump out of his skin.
Enough was enough. Lord knew he wasn't the best conversationalist, but…something had to give. It was clear that they both could claim obstinance in spades, but if neither of them was willing to budge, then what was this all for?
Unable to withstand the silence any longer, Erik cleared his throat and tentatively asked, "You…um…said you went to LaGuardia? I had wondered…was singing your area of study?"
Looking up at him sharply in surprise, Christine replied, "How did you…?"
"I heard you this morning. You were…humming," he explained, watching as recognition slowly came over her.
"Oh…yeah," she answered, her cheeks reddening as she looked away and combed an errant curl behind her ear. "I…forget sometimes that I do that when I'm alone."
An amused grin just managed to crack his neutral façade as he candidly remarked, "Your voice is somewhat rusty but quite…unique…" Erik observed Christine carefully to gauge her reaction, hoping that his bluntness hadn't made her even more uncomfortable.
"I…haven't sung in a long time. After what happened in my senior year and having to leave early…it just hurt too much," she replied wistfully, shrinking into herself a bit.
"Do you miss it? Singing?" he questioned further, fully attentive now and interested in her answer.
"Every single day," she replied so softly, that if it wasn't for his keen auditory senses, Erik would've had to strain to hear her. Christine hugged herself, rubbing her arms as if to ward off some deep chill only she could feel.
This was the thread that had instantly connected them. If he was sure of nothing else, Erik was certain of that.
You owe her now, his conscience nagged at him. She'd opened up, even just a fraction. That took a tremendous amount of courage, something Erik wasn't even positive he, himself, had. Still…she'd given him something of herself.
Now it was his turn.
"I…I was a composer. Before the accident," he began, his heart rate picking up and throat going dry. Christine was listening with rapt attention, her desire to know more written all over her face.
This made it even more arduous for Erik to find the words, but he swallowed down his nerves and continued, "It wasn't a normal track for most students, but…the faculty thought I had a rare talent, I suppose. I was young, and all that mattered to me was music. If they were offering me a place where I could play and hone my craft, who was I to turn them down?"
"But after…your accident…" Christine trailed off before she wound up saying the wrong thing, knowing what it took from him to let her in this way.
"Yeah. There was…no room for music after that," he finished, his voice laced with a stark note of finality as he leaned back and settled into the couch.
There was a part of Christine that burned with an intense desire to hear him play; to see him be at peace with his music once again. In her deepest heart, she yearned just as viscerally to reconnect with that piece of her soul she'd hidden away; to find the strength to uncage her voice and let it sing.
To set her spirit free.
Christine watched as Erik sat forlorn, gazing unseeing at the ceiling, and wanted nothing more than to take his hand in her own or give him the comfort of a warm embrace, but she knew her touch wouldn't be well-received. Not yet, anyway.
"Erik?" she breathed softly. He didn't respond initially, but by the tension in his body, she could tell he was listening. "I'm sorry, but…my lunch break's over. I've gotta get back downstairs. Madame will be expecting me."
Still unmoving, he closed his eyes and breathed a weary sigh, muttering in a sarcastic tone, "Indeed. We all know how Annette abhors lateness, don't we?"
Christine didn't know what else to say to that and instead went about quickly cleaning up the remains of their lunch. Erik just sat, his hands steepled under his chin as if he were in deep contemplation.
In truth, his furtive gaze lingered on her, though he was trying hard to ensure Christine would not take notice of this fact.
Unlike earlier, when she was the one padding out her leaving to stay with him as long as she possibly could, now Erik was the one running scenarios over in his mind, trying to figure out how he could preserve every last second with her.
She'd just grabbed her purse and was walking backward toward the door, calling out hopefully, "I guess…I'll see you later then?" When he didn't respond, she turned back around and continued on dejectedly.
Erik realized his time had run out.
Move, moron, he beseeched his body…and miraculously, it listened. Shifting faster than he had ever been able to in his prosthetic, he managed to make it to her before her hand even reached the knob.
Christine turned back to face where she believed he still was and murmured, "Goodb—" she jerked back, not realizing he was standing so close to her. "Jesus, Erik!" she berated him. An impish grin curled his lips, and she shoved him back lightheartedly.
"He was a good man," Erik replied, deadpan.
Christine was so taken aback by his ridiculous response that she could only stand there, rolling her eyes in exasperation.
Erik could tell this was going downhill, fast. He had to do something to salvage what was quickly turning into a disastrous attempt at, well…
Just admit it. You're trying to ask her out, you fool, his inner voice needled him.
Gripping those thoughts like a vise and squashing the life out of them, Erik sniffed self-consciously and lowered his eyes, intoning, "I'm…sorry. I know I can be…irritating sometimes. I did tell you that I'm not used to being around other people. I just don't have much of a filter anymore, I guess."
His anxiety mounted, causing his throat to seize up. She was looking up at him, brows raised, waiting for him to continue. "B-before you go…I was wondering…uh…"
Just get on with it! that voice was screaming now.
"Would you like to…go-out-tonight-to-hear-some-music?" he expelled, in a panicked breath.
Biting her lip demurely, a smile lit up Christine's angelic face as she responded, "Are you…asking me out on a date, Erik?"
With a loud gulp, he croaked, "No." The way her eyes were lit up, Erik could tell she wasn't buying any of this. Clearing the lump out of his throat, he tried to inject some sarcasm into his bullshit, "We hardly know each other. What do you take me for? Look, I was…planning on going out tonight anyway. There's a place where I go sometimes. It's completely locked down in the evenings, and I can play there…in privacy. I just…I know what it's like when something that is so intrinsically a part of you is brutally ripped away. I…I thought it might help, taking a little bit of that back."
"I…" Christine trailed off in stunned silence. She was beyond words at this point. They hadn't even known each other a full day. They had a mountain of issues stacked sky-high between them, but she found she didn't care.
No one had been able to understand her sadness, her longing, the way Erik did. No one had ever seen so deep into the heart of her, not even…
"Yes!" she squeaked, her eagerness getting the better of her. Looking up at him, her eyes alight, she took a deep breath and tried again, "Yes. I'd…like that very much."
-x-
As soon as the music shop closed for the night, Christine wasted no time breezing through her closing routines.
Once that was done and the store well and truly locked down, she debated dashing home to change outfits. Maybe apply a bit of makeup.
She thought better of it though, because it was already almost 8 o'clock and well after dark. She knew Erik would be waiting for her in the alley out back.
Why are you so worried about how he thinks you look? It's not a date, remember? she stubbornly reminded herself.
Slipping her coat on and grabbing her purse, Christine ensured the front door and security gate were bolted from the inside and swiftly slipped out the back door, locking it on her way. Stuffing her keys in her purse, she turned around, expecting Erik to already be there.
All she saw in the darkness of the alley was the garbage bin hidden in the faint shadows cast by the nearby streetlight. It gave the area an eerily muted glow, made even more foreboding by the thin tendrils of smoke rising from the sewer grates.
It made her claustrophobic, and she just wished he would show up already so they could leave.
If he ditched me, I swear… she grumbled to herself, her mood souring rapidly.
Suddenly, she heard a light shuffling sound and perked up, looking back and forth down the alley to see who was there. When her gaze landed back over toward the dumpster, some of the fog had cleared enough for her to just make out two small, glowing amber orbs.
"Who's there?" Christine called out, her voice wobbling with barely suppressed fear. "Erik, if that's you, please come out already! Maybe you think this is funny, but it's creeping me out!"
There was more indistinct shuffling and Christine was overcome with the urge to run, but her eyes had finally managed to adjust to the darkness, allowing her to see a familiar figure looming across from her.
He had one foot propping himself up against the alley wall, his arms crossed and was the picture of nonchalance.
Sidling up to her, Erik had the most annoying shit-eating grin plastered on his face. Despite all of his earlier fumbling, he had the upper hand now, and he knew it.
"Shall we?" he gestured toward the street corner and set off, not even looking back to see if she was following.
His unpredictable moods were starting to perturb her. There were so many highs and lows, it was difficult to keep track. Tonight, it appeared Erik was radiating arrogance, but Christine was so on edge from his alleyway antics that she didn't have it in her to argue with him about it.
She followed along behind him, trying to keep up as best she could through more darkened alleyways and various side streets. Despite the unorthodox method of travel, she had to concede he knew where he was going and how to get there.
Her feet were throbbing now after being on them all day, and she was considering asking if they could take the subway instead, but after cutting through one final side street, they finally stopped at what looked like the service entrance of a tall, antiquated-looking building.
The ornate columns lining the upper floors were quite beautiful…and strangely familiar, even from the back, though time had done the building no favors. Curious, she left him to fiddle with the lock on the door and poked her head around the corner, trying to see what the place looked like from the front.
She recognized the façade as soon as she laid eyes on those massive stone steps leading up to the archway. It was LaGuardia.
Of all places, he had to bring me here? she railed.
She turned back, leaning against the wall beside him, and looked up to the darkened sky, taking short breaths to calm her racing heart. Everything about this place was pain and loss, as much for him as it was for her.
How could he think she could find any kind of peace here?
The sound of the door creaking open caught her attention, and Christine blinked away the moisture in her eyes before he could notice her distress.
She didn't know what Erik was playing at, but she was going to get answers. They weren't setting foot in there until she did.
Marching straight up to him, she looked right into his eyes without a shred of fear or trepidation, gritting out, "What the hell are we doing here Erik? You didn't tell me that this was your secret place. If this is your idea of a joke…it's just fucking cruel."
Erik stood there, the muted light coming from the service corridor bathing him in harsh relief against the darkness of the alley. He dipped his head low, feeling a coil of shame slither around his heart for not being more forthright with her.
Taking her by the wrist and leading her inside so they wouldn't risk being seen, Erik locked the door once again. He leaned his forehead against it, just making contact with the paint-chipped metal, and closed his eyes with a resigned sigh.
Back still turned from her with a blank stare, he remorsefully replied, "If I'd told you where we were going, would you honestly have come?"
"No," she replied, far too quickly to be truthful. "I mean…maybe? I don't know," Christine acquiesced, hands now on her hips in quiet frustration, "but it would've been nice to at least have been given the benefit of the doubt."
"I know," he whispered, turning around to face her once again. "If you think it's easy for me to be here, you'd be wrong. This place was my life, Christine. My future. And I lost all of it. I know you understand how that feels and how deeply our agony lives in these walls, but there was once a time when this place brought us both immense joy. A time when the music was all that mattered. If you could have a shred of that back, even for a moment, wouldn't it be worth it?"
Tears streamed down Christine's face in earnest now, leaving silver trails on her reddened cheeks as she wept silently. She held herself even tighter now against the overwhelming tide of grief, and Erik wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms.
He would give anything right then to hold her. To let her warmth infuse his aching bones while he protected her from the cruelness of the outside world.
To take her pain entirely into himself so that burden would never weigh upon her shoulders again.
He almost found the courage to take her hand in his own but faltered, unsure. Instead, he drove on, "I won't force you to come with me if you don't want to, but if you do…you will not regret it."
Wiping her tears away with an undignified sniffle, Christine gave him a watery smile and nodded her acceptance.
Silently, they made their way through the corridors and pathways crisscrossing the school without another word between them. Erik was fixated on wherever he was leading them. She could only assume he was trying desperately to avoid another uncomfortable confrontation, but his evasiveness wasn't making the situation any better.
Everywhere Christine looked, she was assaulted with a tide of unbearable memories.
She could feel the grief threatening to overwhelm her again just as they turned a final corner and stepped through the double doors into a concert auditorium. It was almost pitch dark, the only light coming from the glow of the lone lamp perched atop the baby grand piano set in the middle of the stage.
It was the first theater tradition she ever learned, long before she started at the school. Christine remembered with fondness how, during the old days, her father would allow her to walk on stage and turn on the 'ghost light' before they went home after a show.
It was a time in her life she didn't ever want to forget.
Erik went ahead and turned on a few more stage lights, which illuminated them just enough to be passable and not oppressively bright. As her eyes adjusted, she realized that she knew where they were.
It wasn't the larger concert hall. That would've been too risky, though the acoustics there were nothing short of perfect. This was the smaller practice hall, where auditions and rehearsals tended to take place.
She remembered having quite a few vocal exams and competitions in this very room not so long ago. The memory sent a stabbing pain to her gut, and she had to take a deep breath to force it away.
Turning her attention back to Erik, Christine noticed that he'd taken his seat at the piano bench and motioned for her to join him by gesturing to the space at his side. A deep numbness came over her as she slid in beside him and waited for him to pull out the sheets for whatever piece of music he'd chosen.
Surprisingly, Erik had bought no such parchment. He faced forward, lifting his hands to hover just inches over the keys, and Christine realized with astonishment that he was going to play this piece from memory.
In the next moment, his fingers made contact with the ivory, and a slow, haunting melody began to spill forth, flowing through the room in beautiful waves of lilting sound. As the nocturne began to rise in intensity, Erik's skilled fingers gliding feverishly through every surge and swell, she could sense him become one with it, as if the music was an extension of his very soul.
He was completely lost to it. While he played, nothing else could touch him. Pain could never find him here, in this perfect place.
As Christine let the power of the music wash over her in a blinding crescendo, she realized he was right. And she found she understood him, completely. Because that was how she felt when she sang; when the beauty of her voice released her burdens and allowed her spirit to fly.
As the music slowed and the nocturne neared its end, Christine began to hum along, her eyes closed as she completely immersed herself. She was so engrossed that she didn't realize she'd started to sing, but Erik certainly did.
He looked over at her, astonished as she matched his rhythm to near perfection, though her ability to project was severely diminished. Her voice might have been tentative as a hatchling, but its clarity was exceptional, filling him with such intense emotion that he could hardly breathe.
The two strands of melody from his dream had finally found each other, entwining at long last.
As the last strains of the nocturne fell away, Christine came back to herself, hand flying to her mouth in horror for her unthinking act.
"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to…" She was so mortified that she couldn't find the words.
Heart beating a sharp staccato under his ribs, Erik whipped around and emphatically replied, "Christine! Don't ever apologize for letting the music take you!"
She shook her head, trying her best to convey her thoughts through a jumbled mess of emotions, "You were playing so beautifully…and my voice…it…it's terrible! I had no right to interfere! To destroy such a magnificent performance!"
With every ounce of deliberateness his voice could muster, Erik looked her dead in the eyes and stated, "Nonsense. Your voice…it could never ruin anything. Not a single piece of music I nor anyone else could ever devise. Fantaisie Impromptu is one of Chopin's finest works, without doubt, but the moment you touched it with your voice…it became a masterpiece."
Christine looked at him, emanating such desperate longing and raw need, that the feeling staggered him with its intensity. Her inner turmoil mirrored his own brokenness so acutely, that it was as if Erik could see his own fractured heart reflected in the depths of her sea-blue eyes.
Wanting to make her see the truth, he leaned forward, his voice warm and comforting at her ear, "You didn't destroy it, Christine. You lifted it up, in a way I never imagined possible."
Her eyes closed slowly as she absorbed his words and the comfort they brought. A single tear fell and made its way gently down her cheek as the tension surrounding her finally released and she breathed a relieved, "Thank you."
A long silence stretched between them, but it wasn't awkward in the least. Rather, by some unspoken agreement, they both understood the need for a moment of contemplation. A chance to breathe and come to terms with what had just passed between them.
Christine traced her fingers over the piano keys, allowing the memories to come forth after having hidden them away for so long. "My father…" she paused, gathering every ounce of strength she had left, "He…he was diagnosed with cancer in my senior year. We knew it was terminal…but I just…never expected him to go downhill so quickly. I always thought we had more time…"
Erik knew what it took for Christine to lay herself open like this, especially to someone she'd only just met a scant few hours ago. Not wanting to interrupt her, he edged a hair's breadth closer on the bench, just enough to give her an awareness that he was still there. That she didn't have to relive this alone.
"…but it just wasn't enough. It could never be enough. I wound up staying home from school more and more to look after him; to…be with him…as much as I could. Eventually, I got too far behind in my studies, and they dismissed me from the program. It broke his heart. He didn't want me to give up everything I'd worked so hard for…not for him. He believed my voice was a gift that should be shared with the world, but…I just didn't care anymore. All we'd ever had was each other since I was a little girl. He was all I could ever have wanted. Ever have needed. Then, that spring…he was gone."
Erik found his eyes welling unexpectedly, his vision blurring as the depths of her agony cascaded over him in a resounding surge.
"Madame Giry and my father were old friends from his orchestra days, when she still performed in the ballet. She was devastated when he passed, and she promised him on his deathbed that she would look after me. There was so much I was dealing with then, more than just my father's death. If she hadn't let me stay with her and work at the shop, I…don't know what I would've done. I went to public school, and I tried to cope…but without him…without the music…I just couldn't. So…I dropped out just after spring break, and…here I am."
Her vulnerability in that moment made a profound ache settle inside him for the loss she had suffered. Erik knew what she was all about because he'd endured that same pain just as acutely. His body was a living, breathing, daily reminder of all that had been taken from him.
He wanted to take Christine's delicate hand and hold it tightly in his own; to have her crawl inside of him so he could protect her from ever having to know such loss again.
Still, he faltered, clinging to the justification that she was too fragile at that moment and any unforeseen action on his part could cause her to shatter.
Coward, his mind disparaged him acidly.
Closing the lid on the keys carefully, Erik rose from the bench with a lithe grace that belied his tall, lean frame. Christine looked up at him, her eyes questioning.
"The hour is late, and I think we both know you didn't get much sleep last night. I would hate to be the reason for your exhaustion. Perhaps…I might walk you home?" he asked, his rich voice laced with an undercurrent of halting shyness.
"You would do that?" he asked, her mood heightening instantaneously. Not wanting to appear too eager, though her reddened cheeks likely gave away her bashfulness, she stammered, "I mean…I didn't want to assume…"
"Christine, I may not look like it, but I am a gentleman. And a gentleman does not allow a lady to walk home alone late at night," he explained as he made an exaggerated, old-fashioned bow and gestured toward the exit.
She giggled with delight at his ridiculous antics and rose from the bench, following him out the doors. Shaking her head, amused, her exasperated voice echoed after him, "You are such a dork."
As they exited the practice hall and made their way back outside, neither of them noticed the basement door sitting open just a crack or the lone figure hidden in the shadows behind it.
-x-
It wasn't long before they'd navigated another round of gloomy backstreets and narrow alleyways, this time leading them to the Lower East Side. Christine had given Erik her address, thinking he'd make a valiant attempt to get them there unscathed, but assuming he'd eventually break down and have to ask her for more exact directions.
He did not. Which really shouldn't have surprised her at all.
It seemed like very little time had passed before they were rounding the corner onto Orchard Street, the steps leading to her 'modest' six-floor walk-up in sight. They walked up to the entrance in silence, the streetlight behind him again highlighting Erik's imposing frame in the murky darkness.
Christine made to unlock the security door, but she turned around at the last moment, stopping short once more by the soft amber glow of his eyes as they scrutinized her with some kind of unknown intention.
"Well…" she shrugged her shoulders and let out an impassive sigh, trying to appear unaffected, "This is me…"
Erik just kept looking at her intently, almost as if he was contemplating something only he had any notion of. His unnatural focus on her coupled with the sudden stillness in the air was making her hackles start to rise.
Finally, his gaze moved away to center on some spot beyond her. It seemed as though he'd made some sort of decision and with momentous effort, Erik looked down at her and began, "It happened during my senior year, too. The accident. I'd just finished a work session with my teacher, making more additions to my final composition. I was on my way home. No different than any other day.
"There was no warning. I found out later that a massive piece of the subway tunnel had collapsed the roof of the car I was riding in. I remember the heat of the flames on what was left of my face. The terrible screams everywhere and nowhere because I couldn't see anything. The unbearable weight of the concrete as it crushed my leg. The only thing I was able to make out was the mangled roof of the subway car, hanging there and sagging inch by miserable inch."
Recounting for her that horrendous moment in time, it felt as if there was a great weight on his chest, compressing his lungs and pressing down on him the way that wall and roof once had. Unable to say anything further, he breathed out raggedly, "To this day, I still don't know how I made it out of there alive."
Something in Christine unraveled, her heart breaking for all he had suffered. She knew it might not be wise, as he appeared to be poised on a knife's edge, but he had given her this. He had found the resolve to tear a brick from his wall and trusted it to her.
Christine didn't even think twice before resting her hand lightly on his arm, just above the elbow.
His reaction was immediate. His entire body tensed under her fingertips for a fraction of a second. Then his eyes slipped closed, and he deflated entirely.
"Erik, I…" She wasn't sure what to say to him after such a loaded conversation. "Thank you. For trusting me with that. I can't even imagine…"
"Thank you…for listening. I haven't talked about that day with anyone in a very long time. But you gave something of yourself to me tonight. I was immeasurably honored by your courage. Doing this…it was only fair."
"A brick for a brick, I guess," she remarked, her tone utterly sincere. A look of confusion crossed Erik's face for a moment, but his eyes warmed as understanding dawned, and he nodded his head ever-so-slightly.
Sensing that she had soothed him out of his agitated state, Christine decided to take another chance, gradually cascading her hand down his arm and weaving his fingers with her own.
Erik's head flicked downward, eyes fixed on their joined hands as if he wasn't entirely sure what was happening.
"Erik?" Christine whispered, gently trying to regain his attention. His head snapped back up just as abruptly, his gaze now locked with hers. "Thank you again. I think you knew this wasn't going to be easy, but you believed in me. You gave me the courage to walk in there tonight, and you gave me something so profound, that I don't know how I can ever possibly repay the favor.
"Once…that place was filled with nothing but loathsome memories and unrelenting pain. Tonight…you helped me make new ones." Then, Christine took a fortifying breath and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "You made it beautiful again, and I will treasure that forever."
She felt the minuscule tightening of his grip as he squeezed her hand tenderly in return.