Chapter Text
From the first ethereal note that echoed, Erik released the breath he had been holding. Her voice floated down to his lonesome place outside the bistro. The cool air of early spring nipped at his lips as he silently mouthed the words she sang above in perfect unison. He sensed her nervousness at first and then his angel began to blossom slowly. She must enthral them this night. It was the perfect opportunity for her to sing and Carlotta could do nothing to stop it. Singing at the bistro was tradition!
Erik leaned against the post of the stairs leading to the balcony above. After a few delicate chords, even the chatter stopped above as they all retreated inside to listen to the little costume girl sing. Right when he felt she would open up and enchant them all a pestilence erupted in the form of La Carlotta’s voice attempting to silence his angel.
It was an experiment in futility, an onslaught as their voices countered each other. Just then, Christine finally let go and toppled the gaudy diva in one note. Erik grinned. No one was expecting that, were they?
Now it was all for her glory, and his – as she soared higher and higher with perfect pitch and tone. One last time she ascended to heaven, taking his heart from the bowels of the opera house with her. This was the closest to God he would ever be allowed in this life or the next.
For only a moment, it was quiet as if the company couldn’t fathom what had just transpired in the past few minutes. Then a roar of applause drowned out everything along the street. One song had changed everything. Erik knew it before he helped her dress for tonight. He knew it when he took a carriage here to follow in secret, hoping his presence might be felt by her in some way and give her strength.
Cholet would be the greatest of all fools not to give her a contract. Well, Erik chuckled to himself, the man was married to Carlotta. So it was entirely possible the buffoon could be too dense to see a star when it glowed so brightly. Gérard Carrière would have signed her based on Erik’s opinion alone. The thought made him grunt in irritation. That was all in the past and the Opera Ghost would have to live up to his name now.
He almost didn't hear Jean-Claude, the doorman, come down the stairs and immediately, Erik drew the brim of his black hat down and turned down the dark alley. He had been too nice to that old man after all these years and hoped the doorman best remember it. Erik didn’t want to kill him, but if he interfered, there was no Carrière to stop the Opera Ghost’s more imprudent actions.
The wine flowed as the songs continued and yet Christine did not sing again. Erik made sure she knew one or two more pieces in case of an encore, but perhaps she was too caught up in that one moment. To sing before the entire company was a difficult task of its own, he couldn’t demand more from the girl.
Erik waited patiently, checking his gold pocket watch. Surely she would not wish to stay much longer. The only two people she felt comfortable towards were Gerard and Jean-Claude. The rest of them had been terrible to Christine since her arrival. The girl was stronger than she knew. One might assume she was a quiet country mouse, but Erik could see the fire inside her that begged for a breath of air to turn her embers into flames.
If they weren’t jealous of her before, they were now!
Would Christine be surprised that her Maestro came to hear her sing? Erik didn’t tell her he would attend, letting her believe she would go alone even as he helped her climb into the carriage he hired. She was shocked at the extravagance – as if he would make her walk! She was stunned speechless when he gifted her the satin dress. Erik knew she never had anything so fine in her life when he helped her dress. The poor girl trembled the entire time.
Erik took out his watch again and wondered what was going on upstairs. Christine said she would return and tell him everything. He told her he would wait for her in their rehearsal room on the third floor. Would she be pleased to find him here waiting instead to escort her home? Erik hoped it would be a pleasant surprise. It was a risk, but well worth it.
A few people came down the stairs to leave, and Erik instantly hid in the shadows. Drunken laughter and singing paraded down the street and he anxiously waited to see her dress upon the stairs before coming out of the shadows.
Christine's voice lit up his senses, that gentle laugh of hers and Erik inched closer. With one more step and he could reach out and touch her hand. Another voice, young and baritone froze Erik just below the wooden stairs. Instinctively, he melted into the darkness as the two rushed down and across the street.
That damned boy!
Chagny was nothing but a libertine and everyone knew it. His wealth and title bought him whatever he desired without consequence.
Not my Christine! I warned her did I not?
Is that what she really wanted? Erik could see the way she smiled, too naïve to know she shouldn't wear her affections on her sleeve in regards to lecherous men. How could she not smile desiring romance from a handsome young man? She was not of this world, or even this city… just a sweet girl from the northern country. She couldn’t know what Paris and the people were like here.
Erik watched as the handsome blonde helped her into his Phaeton, only meant for two. He watched her blush, smile and laugh all while her maestro's heart broke apart piece by piece. They headed in a direction towards the Bois and Erik swallowed hard. There was only one reason to take her there at night. He would have followed, as a shadowy protector, but Christine was thrilled to go with the boy. The blush of romance was swimming in her eyes as Erik drowned in the dark alleyway.
A million times, while riding back to the opera house, he debated on telling the driver to turn around and head to where he knew his angel was. Time and time again, Erik berated himself. He was not her father, her protector or even a true friend since he kept his distance. Christine asked to know more about him and he refused more times than he could remember. He pushed her away just far enough so she would not figure out his ruse. He was only her teacher and nothing more – and only the Opera Ghost to everyone else.
For hours he waited, the candles burning low on the piano. He couldn’t even play to help pass the time. Erik’s mind was crazed with images of them together. Was Chagny kissing her? Did she want him to?
Of course, she does, he’s young, handsome and titled. What have you to offer her? Nothing.
My music. I gave her my music.
Can she kiss music? Hold it, make love to it?
She touched me once. A lovely thing it was. Said she could never repay me for all I’ve done for her.
And what did you do? Nothing. She could have been yours.
No, someday she’ll ask to see my face, then it will all end. She cannot and will never love me. Best not to love her.
You’re a coward. Just like the boy that saw his face in the water and cried for days.
I’m not that boy anymore.
The only woman who ever loved you was your mother and she is dead.
Don’t speak of her.
You’ve never had a woman. One would never kiss you willingly. That’s why you must TAKE what you want. Find a ‘lady of the night’ like other men. Surely one will take your money.
I don’t want just any woman. I want her!
Then take her.