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Forget Me Not	By : spikesbint Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > AU/AR Views: 12354 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
A/N What I have mentioned of NY is from research only, as I have never been there, unless JFK airport counts lol. SO if there are any glaring errors feel free to tell me what they are so I can correct them. Him holding nothing but the rose in the bedroom scene was inspired by a bit of fanart I found over at deviant art.

ALSO IF YOU LIKE PLEASE REVIEW

Forget me not
Chapter 10

A great weight had been lifted from Christine’s heart. After she had dried her tears, she made her way back to Erik’s cabin. Before she did so, she looked in on Meg in their own berth. She was fast asleep so Christine quietly closed the door on her and proceeded to the next cabin. She was careful to make sure that she was not seen as she gently knocked on the door. Even on a passenger ship, there were moral codes one had to bypass. If anyone even so much as saw her enter Erik’s cabin, she would be ruined socially. Even she could not ignore that.

There was no sound from within, and thinking that maybe he had retired for the evening, she turned to leave. She felt the rush of air as the door opened behind her and a strong hand rested on her shoulder. Christine turned around to face him. There was a suspicious wetness on his face as he looked at her, before taking her in his arms and crushing her to him.

“I do need you Erik…only you,” she whispered against the fine cloth of his jacket.

He pulled away from her to read her face. Satisfied with what he saw there, he lowered his head to kiss her lips deeply. Christine pressed herself against him. Her hands slipped inside his coat, drawing the warmth from his body as he led her inside the cabin and closed the door behind them.

The room was softly lit with candles and was as luxurious as any high-class hotel room. If it were not for the gentle hum of the engines, it would be hard to believe that they were at sea. She was surprised that instead of walking her over to the bed, he deposited her on the comfortable settee next to it. She hid her disappointment quickly, although not quick enough for the Phantom to miss it. He smiled to himself as he retrieved a bottle of champagne as it cooled in the ice bucket. Erik poured it slowly into two delicate flutes before handing her a glass.

“What’s the occasion she asked?”

He took his place next to her on the sofa and turned to face her. He held up the glass.

“To your new life…may it be filled with success, happiness and love.”

The breath caught in her throat at his last words, as she clinked glasses with him with a shaky hand. She did not usually take strong drink, and after only a couple of sips, she felt slightly light-headed. She watched Erik as he drank down the remainder of his glass and replaced it on the table. Christine followed suit, wishing she had not, as a slight giddiness came over her.

He turned back to face her, she noticed a drop of champagne glistening on his lips and she had the sudden urge to lick it off. Before she could allow reason to take over, she leaned across and darted the tip of her tongue over his slightly parted lips, smiling to herself at his tiny sound of shocked pleasure.

Not sure if it were the drink or her own desires taking over her, she then got up from her seat to sit on his lap. She could already feel the desire of his hardened body as she leaned into him. Erik’s hands rested on her shoulders before sliding down her form to settle on her hips. He thrust forward, eliciting a little gasp from her. It pleased him greatly that she had instigated their lovemaking, but he was not going to let her have all the control as he slid his hand under her to pick her up in his arms and carry her over to the middle of the room.

Instead of depositing her on its surface, he lowered her to the floor until her feet touched carpet again. He pulled all the pins from her hair, which held up her elaborate hairstyle, running his fingers through the freed locks of hair. She sighed at the pleasurable feel of his long fingers as they rested at her throat before popping a button on her high-necked black mourning dress. He touched the pulse he could feel beating at the base of her neck, smiling as he felt it accelerate.

“There, that’s how I always want to remember you…free and alive and your eyes warm with desire…for me.”

She smiled at him, watched as he tilted his head to listen to the faint strains of music coming from the first class lounge upstairs. He slipped a hand around her waist and rested the other one on her shoulder.

“Dance with me Christine?”

She nodded, unable to speak. Christine drew in a breath as he pressed her close to his hard body, as they slowly danced a sensual variation of the waltz, the shocking dance, which had once been labelled the forbidden dance. She was sure she read somewhere that when danced, the partners were supposed to be able to fit a bible between them to at least retain propriety. Christine almost giggled aloud at the thought. She could now understand why some of the older matrons had been outraged by its introduction, as she felt every curve of him pressed against her.

They danced around the room, to the strains of Mozart until the music stopped, as they were only inches from the bed. They held each other, both breathless in the silence of the room.

“Erik,”

Christine looked at him with pleading eyes, before he lowered his head and nibbled at her lower lip. She felt the heat travel from her lips to the warm core of her body, pooling between her legs. She parted them a little and he stood between them, thrusting against her as his large hands slid down to her buttocks. Her hands crept up to his face, and she touched his cheek. The mask fell from his face into her hand. He flinched a little, still not comfortable in exposing what he had spent a lifetime concealing. Christine smiled and pressed her lips on the marred flesh, raining kisses on it as if willing her touch to heal him, not on the outside, but the inside… and his bruised soul.

She slipped the jacket from his shoulders and ran her hands over the soft material of his silk shirt. Erik began to undress, and she followed suit. She turned around so that he could free the laces of her corset. It was several moments before she felt his hand go to the ties. Christine faced him wearing nothing but her chemise. She blushed as her eyes travelled over his perfect naked form. Now she understood the reason for his delay in undressing her. As she looked into his eyes, she knew he had stripped off the remainder of his garments to draw that exact response from her.

He pulled her onto the bed with him. Both of them falling onto it with in a tangle of limbs, which ended up with her being on atop him. Erik smiled at her, looking much younger than his age. The very happiness on his face seemingly had erased the harsh lines that she had first noticed on his arrival in France. Christine mused that how strange it was that perfect joy could make such a change. She could almost pretend that she was still that naïve opera girl and that the years had never been.

A mischievous smile curled the edges of his mouth as he caught her lips in a kiss. His hands made their way to the edges of her shirt, only breaking the kiss to pull it over her head. Christine felt renewed desire course through her at the feel of skin on skin. The slightly roughened hairs of his chest caused a pleasurable friction to her breasts, causing her nipples to harden as she moved against him.

“You’re mine forever,” he growled possessively in her ear. His blunt teeth nipping at her earlobe as he drove home the point with a thrust of his hips. The possessive tone of his voice excited her further with a primeval passion that threatened to consume her.

Christine moaned low in her throat as his hands slid between their bodies to touch her intimately, rubbing at the sensitive nub of flesh between her legs until she felt she would go mad. She pressed herself against his thumb and arched back her head. He increased his pressure and slipped a finger into her wet channel and then another as he brought her to completion, feeling her inner muscles gripping his fingers as she came.

Erik sat up so they were in an almost sitting position, pressing kisses to her throat and breasts before taking a perfect nipple in his mouth and suckling at it. She gasped at the renewed moisture that flooded between her legs as he turned his attention to the other one. She could feel his erection digging into her inner thigh, hot heavy, pulsing, and begging entry to her body. Christine teasingly moved against it drawing back the foreskin.

“Tease,” he groaned.

He raised his head to look at her, his Green eyes almost catlike in the candlelight as he pulled her back down on the bed with him. She was surprised that he did not turn her over onto her back. Instead, he kept her straddled across his legs, lifting her bodily and lowering her down onto his hardened shaft. Watching as she sank down on him, inch by inch until he was encased in her up to the hilt as she took him all in. Her hands dug into his shoulders as she became accustomed to the strange position. The deeper penetration was both painful and pleasurable to her at the same time.

Their eyes locked together with the same intensity as their bodies, as Christine slowly began to move, enjoying the feel of being in control as she rocked against him. She ran her hands over his chest setting the pace of their lovemaking, exalting in the look of pure pleasure on his face as she took him to the point of endurance. Christine laced her fingers through his as their movements became more urgent and she let him take over once more.

“Christine!” he shouted out her name as he came within her, filling her with his warm seed. She joined him as her inner walls clamped around him, she threw her head back as tears threatened to fall down her face.

She collapsed against his sweat-dampened chest, gently kissing him, before he rolled her over and covered them both with the eiderdown. It was not long before she fell asleep. Erik watched her for a few minutes before disengaging himself from her embrace. She made a muttered protest, mumbling in her sleep before falling silent again. He still had trouble sleeping a whole night and his nocturnal habits had not changed with the passing of time.

Erik took one of the sheets from the bed and wrapped it around his waist, before sitting down in one of the comfortable armchairs in his suite of rooms. His hand strayed to the violin case which rested by the chair. He had not played for several days and his fingers itched to touch it. He removed the instrument from the case with loving reverence. Erik wiped over the aged wood with a soft cloth, caressing each curve until it gleamed in the candlelight, before finally tucking it under his chin.

He poised his bow, positioned his fingers and began to play. The sorrowful sound filled the room and he was so caught up in the music that he was unaware that Christine had awoken, and was a captive audience. She dared not move in case she interrupted him. It was so beautiful to watch that soon her cheeks were soon wet with tears, as he seemed to wring the very soul out of her with his music.

As the last notes died away, he looked over at the bed, surprised to see her sitting up and watching him. He smiled at her, not at all disconcerted by the fact that she had been privy to something as intimate as his works. He had often shared it with her in the past, and she could tell this was another of his compositions. It warmed her that he felt so at ease to share it with her again.

She wiped at her eyes. “That was beautiful,”

Erik carefully put down the violin and bow, and got up from the chair, hardly caring as the sheet fell away from him to leave him naked before her. His movements graceful as he walked over to the bed and plucked a red rose from the vase next to it and handed it to her. He looked magnificent as he smiled down at her, his outstretched hand offering the precious bloom to her.

“No, you are beautiful. I have never seen anything more lovely at this moment, than you in our bed, your skin soft and glowing from our lovemaking. He wiped away a stray tear. I never want to see you cry again Christine. There have been too many tears,”

“What about tears of absolute joy?” she asked.

He answered her question with an enigmatic smile as she took the rose from him, and pulled back the covers for Erik to join her. He turned to extinguish the candles and got in beside her, pulling him into the circle of his arms as she absentmindedly traced patterns on his chest with the flower.

There was no light in the room, except for the moon shining in the tiny porthole window. It bathed their bed in its soft glow as they both surrendered to sleep.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Six Days Later

Their bags were packed. All was ready for their arrival, as they stood on the deck. Meg and Christine looked around with interest as they sailed into port. The heavy fog that had followed them for most of the day had finally lifted, but the sea air was still chill.

“I am frightened,” whispered Christine.

Meg put her arm around her. “Just think of this as a fresh start. I on the other hand cannot wait to get on dry land. I have to admit I am not the world’s best sailor.”

Even though it was late afternoon, it was still broad daylight, not like night when they had left France and being very aware of the dictates of Victorian society Christine had to keep a respectful distance from Erik. All she wanted was for him to hold her and tell her that everything was going to be just fine. She had to instead content herself with a glance as his face as he smiled down at her warmly.

“Well, Madame De Chagny what is your first impression of the new world?” he asked her.

“I will tell you when we get there Monsieur Devereux,” she grinned saucily at him and the formality they were forced to endure.

“Wait till I get you alone Madame De Chagny, then I will wipe that impertinent smile from your lips,” he whispered under his breath.

Meg looked at them both, one of her perfect blonde eyebrows arched. “Why do I feel like a fifth wheel here? Anyone would think you were on your honeymoon,” she smiled to take the sting out of her words.

Christine flushed. She had not thought of the possibility of marriage for a while now. It did not seem right, at least until her year of required mourning was over. She knew Erik loved her, even if he had not yet said the words. It was as if he were waiting for something from her before speaking his own heart. However, on the deck of a ship was not the place for it. Christine sighed. She wanted the moment, when it came, to be perfect.

As the ship sailed through New York harbour, Christine got her first glimpse of her new home. The impressive almost completed Brooklyn Bridge drew gasps from several of the passengers. The two-mile stretch of pier at South Street looked very unimpressive and dirty to Christine’s eyes. The stench of fish assailed her nostrils as she breathed it in.

“It is not to your liking? Christ…I mean Madame De Chagny. This is South Street or the street of ships as it is known to the rest of the world. It is a popular saying among native New Yorkers that all streets lead to South Street,” Erik scanned the crowd. “Ah, I see my man of business is waiting for us on the quay.”

Christine looked on the busy port seeing nothing but a sea of strangers. The dockside was thick with people of all classes huddled together like sardines. The ship’s gangway was lowered and soon people began to disembark. The steerage left the ship first in reverse opposite of the order they embarked, soon adding to the swelling crowd. By the time the first class passengers began to leave the ship, mayhem had ensued on the dockside.

Before they stepped onto the walkway, Christine was surprised to see Erik don a black Fedora. It was wider brimmed than the usual kind, and with his collar up high on his cape, they both served to obscure a lot of his face.

Erik glanced at Christine, noting her surprise. “Even in such enlightened times as these, superstition is still rife. I try to not give them fuel for their ignorance.”

He kept Christine and Meg close at his side, partly shielding his mask at the same time until they reached a small gap where a man of about forty years of age, or thereabouts waited. He was dressed in an unremarkable brown suit and matching bowler hat. The man was short and stocky in build, but not unattractive, with sandy blonde hair and moustache that covered most of his upper lip. The most notable thing about him was the eye patch that covered his left eye. Christine was sure by the looks of him there was a story in there somewhere and how he came to be in Erik’s service, but now was not the time for questions.

Erik turned to Christine and Meg. “Ladies, may I introduce Thomas Keane,”

“Good day to you ladies,” he said in a heavy Irish accent.

He held out a hand. Christine was the first to take it. If she concentrated hard enough she could just about understand him. Erik had been tutoring her aboard ship and prior to their leaving France, in English. She had been surprised to find out just how much she did remember from her old lessons, although his accent did defeat her a little.

“Pleased to meet you Monsieur Keane,” she smiled as she shook his hand.

“That’s a pretty little accent you have there.” he smiled. “And may I say you are even more beautiful as the portrait which hangs in my Master’s office,”

Erik coughed, looking uncomfortable. “Enough of your Irish flattery Tom, where is the coach?”

The man shrugged casually. “With all that was going on, I thought it best to leave it a couple of streets away. There have been fights breaking out all morning. Where’s your luggage?”

“I have arranged for it to be brought to the house later,” Erik replied.

“Right then, lets be having you,” He turned to go, and the small party followed him through the crowds.

“Did you say house?” asked Christine.

“Yes, but Meg and yourself will be sharing an annexe attached to the house for propriety’s sake and to keep the old tabbies of New York society happy. I will not lie to you Christine; they are a ruthless crowd, but unavoidable. Win their hearts and you will be set for life. Of course the snob in most of them will be impressed by your title alone.” He added dryly.

“My former title,” She reminded him firmly.

“You have a lot to learn Mon amour,” he smiled at her.

A scream went up in the crowd as the sounds of gunshots were fired. The mass hysteria went through the populace like a tidal wave of human fear. People were running in all directions. Erik protectively put an arm around Christine, trying to shield her from the oncoming stampede.

“Tom! Take care of Mademoiselle Giry! If we get separated meet me at the coach,” roared Erik above the noise.

Tom nodded and took Meg’s arm as they tried to get out of the crush. She took it gratefully. The sound of police whistles being blown rang in the air. Pitiful amounts of police officers tried to bring order to the chaos, but were too few among the many. As Erik had feared, they were soon parted from the other couple. He glanced back a couple of times, but had lost sight of them altogether. Not even a glance of Meg’s bright blue bonnet could be seen.

Erik managed to manoeuvre Christine into a quieter side street, both of them breathless and dishevelled. She collapsed against him, her tiny form shaking. He put a finger under her chin to look at her pale face and her wide frightened eyes.

“Do not be afraid, while I am here nothing will ever harm you Christine. I would give my life for your safety in a heartbeat,” He lowered his head to kiss her lips softly and briefly. When he pulled away, he noticed the tears about to fall and he looked at her in mock disapproval. “I thought I told you no more tears,” he smiled.

He held out his arm and she took it, leading her down the next street to where his carriage waited. It was a handsome vehicle, pulled by four black horses. They reminded Christine of Erik’s horse that had led her down to his lair the first time she had seen him in the flesh. He had of course been sold at auction after the fire. If Christine had known at the time that Erik still lived, she would have kept him.

Erik tipped at nod at his coachman before opening the door to help Christine inside. He stood by the open door waiting for the arrival of Meg and his manservant. The time ticked on and minutes soon turned into half an hour. Christine’s agitation grew, that something awful must have happened to the other two. Erik took out his watch from his waistcoat and examined it. As he glanced up, he saw Tom appear from around the corner, supported by a police officer.

Erik left Christine’s side to assist Tom. Christine got out of the carriage and followed him. Tom looked up at Erik. An ugly bruise was forming on his forehead, a trickle of dried blood stained his face.

“I am sorry Sir…we were almost out of it and then someone struck me from behind. I fell and the next thing I knew I was face down on the pavement and the little Miss was nowhere to be seen. All I found was this.”

He held out the tatters of a dirty blue ribbon that had once been attached to Meg’s travelling dress. Tom’s legs buckled under him and Erik had to grab him to stop him from falling.

Christine’s hands flew to her mouth in horror as she watched the scrap of blue fall to the ground.

“Oh Meg,”

TBC
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Forget Me Not