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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
- 16
- 17
- 18
Forget me not

Chapter 16

Christine followed Doctor Evans out into the hallway after he packed up his instruments and took his leave. He turned to look at her, seeing the ill-concealed tears rimming her eyes. He experienced a tinge of compassion for the woman whom so obviously adored his friend. God knows Erik had eaten his heart out about her enough over the years, he thought. Maybe not verbally, but the sadness he had often seen on Erik’s face when looking at the miniature of her, in unguarded moments and he thought no one was watching. The doctor felt a little uncharitable in his earlier thoughts. It was time that someone else worried about Erik, besides himself and his household. It gladdened him to see it.

He handed her his handkerchief as a tear rolled down her cheek. “There, do not take on so. The fever has not reached his lungs. You already did the right thing by keeping his temperature down,”

“He has been delirious and talked…”

“Perfectly natural, if it happens again it is easier to go along with it so as to cause as little distress as possible,”

“Thank you doctor,”

He regarded her for a moment. “It seems to me that you have some experience in the sick room?” he asked.

Christine nodded. “I lost my husband to consumption not two months ago,”

“I am sorry for your loss. It is not easy to see a loved one die from such a painful illness,”

Christine looked up at him, seeing the understanding in his eyes.

“You lost someone too?” she asked.

“My mother, after that I swore that I would never be so helpless again. Your lov…er…friend helped put me through medical school,”

“Erik?” She asked in surprise.

“Yes, he had not been in America long and he rented a house from my mother. It was a modest property, nothing like the palatial mansion he has now,” he joked.

“Really?” Christine was lost in her thoughts. There were so many sides to the man she loved, she wondered if she knew him at all. Philanthropist was one of the last roles she imagined him in. Although she knew, he was capable of great tenderness as well as violence, a fact she had long since accepted. “His wound…is it infected?” she asked.

“I could see no signs of it. It may be nothing more than a severe chill caught from what happened yesterday. He must take things easy for at least a week. It’s going to be a hard task making him keep still,”

“I am more than ready to deal with that,” They smiled at each other in understanding. “Thank you again, for everything, but I must go to him. You know the way out?” Christine asked.

The doctor smiled “I should hope so by now,” he tipped his hat at her and walked away.

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

Christine was tired in body and in spirit. It brought back too many memories of the final days of Raoul’s pain filled existence. She had watched him suffer, unable to do little to ease that torment. She closed the door on the room, glad to be alone with Erik once more. Patty had retired at Christine’s insistence some time ago. She walked over to the bed and watched the rise and fall of his chest. The sight was comforting to her. She doubted she would get any more sleep this night. Instead, she sat on the edge of his bed and watched him rest.

Christine placed a hand on his forehead, gratified to find it was much cooler to the touch. Erik turned to her touch and opened glazed eyes and she wondered if he even saw her.

“Mama?” He asked. His voice sounded gruffer than usual.

Christine recoiled in shock, but quickly recovered her composure. However, she remembered the doctor’s words and made no reply. It was obvious that the subject of his mother brought him far too many agonizing recollections, of a past that was shrouded in mystery. That one pain filled word confirmed it for her. She did not press him as she did before; when he had described the beatings, he had suffered as a child. Instead, she lay down next to him on the bed and gently stroked his hair.

“All I wanted was a kiss….it’s my birthday…but she said no,” his voice cracked.

As she lay by his side, her heart ached. Whatever demons drove him would not give him peace. The pitiful sound that came from him was almost akin to a child’s sobbing. Christine turned to him and pressed a kiss on his cheek, followed by another and another. As she kissed him, the pitiable sounds lessened, he was quiet once more and fell asleep. She could only pray that he would find some calm in his dreams.

She listened to his ragged breathing, occasionally kissing his cheek, and holding his hand. She could do little else. Christine hoped that whatever he had borne in the past, he would know that he was loved now. She sighed deeply; his soul had taken so much damage, so much rejection that she wondered if even she could heal him.

Christine stayed there, reluctant to leave his side. She watched over him, as he had her, all those years ago. It was not until the grey skies of morning appeared to welcome in the new day, did she allow herself to sleep.

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

When Christine awoke, a hasty glance at the mantle clock told her it was noon. She was taken aback to see Erik was awake and propped up on a couple of pillows. He was watching her, his expression unfathomable. She wondered if he remembered any of his feverish revelations of the previous night, but was cautious about bringing the subject up. It was enough for her that he seemed a lot better, although there was still a flushed tinge to his normally pale complexion. His hair was in disarray, and he wore no mask, but still she felt that strong pull on her emotions as she looked at him.

She swallowed back the lump that formed in her throat at the rush of love that flooded her being. As Erik looked back at her, Christine saw his expression harden and the silence in the room grew heavy. She could feel the anger coming off him in waves and decided to hold back anything she had been about to say. She got up from the bed and sat in the chair, putting a little distance between herself and that scowl, which marred his features more effectively than any blemish of face could ever do. As she arranged her shawl around her shoulders for something to do, her hands stilled mid action as he spoke.

“I know I talked last night, and said some things…things that were better left unsaid,”

Christine looked at him, her eyes widened in surprise that he had remembered any of it.

“No… if anything it was a revelation. You tell me so little about yourself. I want to know everything…you know all there is to know about me. I told you of my life before I came to live at the opera house. You have known of my hopes and dreams and even my fears since I was a child. You gave me hope that I could be happy again after I lost my father. Let me do the same for you,”

“That may as be, but the reason I did not tell you is for the exact reason, which I can see in your face now,” he sighed and looked away.

Christine got up from the chair again and turned his face back to hers.

“And what do you see there?” She demanded.

“Pity,”

“You are wrong, look again. Pity is one emotion I would not waste on you,”

Erik looked at her again, his eyes searching her face. What he read there seemed to satisfy him. His expression softened for the first time since she had awoke. Christine was glad she had broken through at least one of the many barriers he had been building around himself all his life. The only other time he really allowed himself to be vulnerable was when they were making love, and it saddened her. She wanted them to be able to share everything, to be able to reach those dark corners of his heart, which he would stubbornly keep hidden from view.

She leaned over and placed a soft slow kiss on his dry lips. She drew away and sat back in the chair.

“Fine, you do not pity me, but there were things…”

“That needed to be said, and still need to be said,” By the firm set of his mouth, she knew it was pointless to pursue the subject and addressed the next one that needed discussing. “Erik I need your forgiveness for my stupidity of the other evening, but not for the sake of my own feelings. I thought I could help, but I was wrong. I cannot pretend to not know that you are very angry with me,”

“Christine, I could forgive you anything. It has long been a failing of mine, which does not seem to have lessened with time. However, your intervention could not only have cost our lives, but everyone else’s involved in Meg’s rescue,”

“I know,” she said quietly.

“These things I do are not for my own amusement, but for your safety. You do understand that?”

“Please Erik; do not be angry with me any longer. I cannot bear it!” she pleaded.

“I am not angry Christine, I am disappointed,”

He took a deep breath, wincing as it pulled on his stitches. His faced paled several shades, and Christine went to his aid. He put out a hand to stop her, she was stung by it a little, but she knew enough to know that to ask help of anyone was a hard concept for him to swallow. Instead, she had to watch impotently as he resettled himself in the bed.

“Curse it, how long did the doctor say I had to remain in bed?” he snapped.

“A week at least,” she replied.

Christine smiled to herself; he was not going to make an easy patient. However, she would be here, taking whatever verbal abuse he would very likely dish out during his confinement. She walked over to the bookshelf he had in the far corner of the room, her eyes scanning the shelves. Unable to decide, she turned back to him.

“You will need something to pass the time, any recommendations?”

A slow smile passed over Erik’s face and Christine was puzzled by it.

“There on the top shelf, Wuthering Heights in English,”

The title was familiar to her, although she had not read it. She took the volume from the shelf, sat down next to his bed, and began to read aloud.

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

Christine had been proud of her increasing confidence of the English language, as she read him to him each day.

It was not until three days later and several chapters in, she realised his reason behind the choice of book. His growing agitation, she had put down to his being unable to get up from the bed, except for the barest necessities. That was until she began chapter seven, what she read touched a nerve inside her. It had started out as a tale of two children that were as soul mates, who overcame class and lived for nothing but the other. That love became tainted as they grew. Heathcliff had to suffer the effects of Cathy’s fickle heart and her growing attraction to the young, rich and handsome Edgar Linton.

From the well-worn appearance of the book, she would guess it was a tale that had been read on many occasions and Christine began to understand why. She glanced across at Erik, and he looked back at her, his expression resolute. Somehow, in his mind, he had decided that was what had happened with them, but she was nothing like Catherine Earnshaw she fumed inwardly.

“Is the book not to your liking?” he asked. “I must commend you on your improved comprehension of English, you are a quick study. But do not stop there; the best parts are yet to come,”

Christine continued reading. He was trying to teach her some sort of convoluted lesson. She turned the next page, her stubborn streak resurfacing as she carried on. She refused to be daunted by it, or him, but secretly wondered how she would get through the remaining four days. An exercise that would have been purgatory except for the occasional bright visits from Meg, only then would that scowl lift from his face, but on those occasions Christine felt the burn of jealousy at the change in him. She buried her face in the book and clenched her teeth together so they would not see.

She knew she was being ridiculous, or at least she hoped she was.

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

On the dawn of the seventh day, Erik got out of bed lingering not a moment longer than necessary. The doctor had visited the previous evening to remove his stitches and had declared all to be well. He dressed himself, choosing to do away with the services of a valet, as many rich gentlemen favoured. His wound was sufficiently healed to give him little or no pain, not that that would have stopped him leaving the sickroom. As he donned the mask, he felt the familiar feeling of being closed in by it. For as long has he had worn it, it was one emotion he had not learned to master.

Time was advancing, it was now early May and there was much to be done in preparation for the first season of the new opera house. Precious time had already been wasted. There was only a little over two weeks until Madame Giry would be joining them in New York as well. She had sent a recent correspondence with her plans for her arrival. Meg was looking forward to being reunited with her mother. He had an important meeting with the other financiers as well as an interview to arrange for Christine. He put on his black leather gloves and after a perfunctory gaze at his reflection in the mirror, he left the room.

Tom was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, and Erik smiled at him.

“How well you know me Tom. Is the carriage ready?” Erik asked.

“Of course,”

“Then let’s go,”

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

Christine sat glumly at the breakfast table, eyeing her eggs and ham with distaste. Slightly nauseated by the contents of her plate, she instead chose to take slow small sips from her cup of chocolate. Meg watched her, smiling. She had heard on several occasions over the past few days, Christine’s frustrations with Erik as well as her avowals to never read anything by one of the Bronte sisters again. It sounded as if Erik had not fully forgiven Christine for her rash behaviour. Meg understood her friend’s motivation behind her actions and mused that she would have probably done the same if in a similar situation.

“He will come around Christine, you will see. All men are like little boys. They have their sulks, but they come out of it. Even men such as Erik,”

Christine peered at Meg from over the top of her fine china cup.

“Erik is so complex. There are moments that I feel I hardly know him at all,” Christine sighed.

“And they say women are the difficult sex! I have given up trying to understand them. You love him and he worships the ground you walk on, time will make it better. I have often envied you Christine,”

“Me?” she asked in surprise.

Meg nodded. “I am thirty one years old and all I have ever wanted was a man to look at me the way Erik looks at you,”

“Like I am a foolish child?”

Meg shook her head, rolling her eyes at the same time.

“Like the world begins and ends with you,”

“Oh yes Erik is besotted with me, he could not wait to leave the sickroom before I arrived this morning,”

Meg sighed. “You heard Patty; he had an important meeting. I have spent a lot of time with Tom this week, he told me a lot about Erik. He has an important position to uphold. It is unrealistic to expect him to spend every waking moment with you,” she scolded gently.

“But what if it hurts to be away from him?”

“Imagine how he has felt…he had to do without you for a lot longer than a few hours,” Meg put her arm around her friend, to soften her words.

Christine shook her head despairingly. “See? How will we ever last? I am too selfish by far!”

“Do not be so hard on yourself Christine! He deserves that chance…you deserve it too. Now I have to get ready. Tom is taking me for a drive in the park. He said he might give me a chance at the reins too. I only have two hours to get ready and look my best,” Meg smiled.

She kissed Christine briefly on the cheek and exited the room. Christine sighed and pushed away her plate, wondering how to fill the time until Erik’s return. She needed an occupation. Sitting around had never suited her, even when she had been a rich man’s wife. The coming season of the new opera house would be something, as long as she was accepted. Failure was too terrible to think about.

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

His business at the opera house had taken much longer than he had anticipated. Much work had piled up during his absence overseas. After having consumed several bottles of port and general congratulations on an opera house well built, the financiers had gotten down to the business of discussing the first opera of the season. Erik had been extremely put out to find that they had already decided on Gounod’s Faust. It was an opera, which he had never been comfortable with. It just touched too many nerves. Even though he was the manager, he could do little about it. Sets had already begun to be built as well as some of the costumes in their final stages of completion. Last, but most importantly to the moneymen was the amount of capital that had already been spent on them.

He had had to smile in all the right places, although the smile never reaching his cool grey green eyes as he struggled to keep his annoyance in check. Erik almost wished he had built his own opera house and had sole control, as he had originally planned. However, even an extremely wealthy man like himself had needed the connections that his partners had brought to realise his dream. He was accepted because he was a rich man, but he was still considered new money, a problem which came with a whole set of other boundaries.

After discussing the business of Christine’s upcoming audition, Erik had gratefully retreated to the solace of his office. As he opened the doors, a pair of warm brown eyes that looked down at him his sketch of her, which hung on the wall, greeted him. Not that he had ever needed any visual reminders of how she looked. His heart quickened as the realisation that no longer would he have to rely on memories alone.

He knew he had been harsh with Christine this week, but to surrender to her without a fight would teach her nothing. Everything that happened in this world was with consequence, be it good or bad. He sat down in his leather padded desk chair and poured himself a small measure of fine French brandy. He studied the amber liquid in the glass, after taking just a little sip; he got up from his seat and put on his hat and cloak. He had just a week to get Christine presentable for her audition and as much as he hated to admit it, he was missing her.

Erik left instructions to his personal assistant on his way out, and called for his carriage. There was no time to waste if he wanted to have her ready to face the financiers, and it would take more than a pretty face to impress them, although Erik was sure they would not know good tone if it were a screeching alley cat.

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

Christine had ended up in Erik’s private study. At least here, she felt less lonely and as if he was still with her. It lessened some of the ache of his absence. The clock chimed three o’clock, making her start. She placed a hand on her chest to steady her breathing. The fire in the hearth crackled welcomingly and she was tempted to curl up in his armchair with a book, until his return. Patty would be along soon with the afternoon tea.

She had just removed a volume from the shelf, and was about to sit down, when the doors burst open. The book clattered to the floor as it slipped from her fingers. She had been expecting the portly housekeeper, but instead, it was Erik stood in the doorway. His breathing sounded heavy, as if he had been in a great hurry. Christine could not help, but watch the rise and fall of that strong chest. Her cheeks flushed as she felt the first stirrings of desire, which she had held in check for well over a week. She could tell by the answering heat in his eyes that she was not alone in those feelings.

Erik was angry with himself as his body betrayed its reaction to her. He had come home with only the express intention of singing lessons, nothing more, but seeing her standing there and caused a completely new set of intentions come to mind. He turned around and locked the study doors, and faced her again. Christine was left in no doubt of the purpose of his actions.

They met in the middle of the room, their mouths hungry for each other as his leather-encased hands circled her tiny waist. Erik was the first to pull away. Christine mourned the lost of his lips as she fought the fogginess that threatened to take all her reason along with it.

“I returned early, to give you music lessons. We only have a week to prepare you for the world,”

“They agreed to an audition?” Christine asked.

Erik nodded; he lowered his gaze distracted by Christine’s fingers as they stroked along the edges of his cravat, loosening the pin, which held it in place.

“And what do you think you are doing Madame?” he arched a brow.

“I am doing what has been on your mind since the moment of your return. I remember the first time you had me sing for you in Meg’s apartment, and how that particular lesson ended too,”

Erik smiled at the memory. The unbearable feel of her in his arms, the desire, which had been denied so long, and the sweet joining of their bodies afterwards. After more than a week of not being able to touch her, a couple of hours delay in her instruction would not harm, he decided. Christine smiled in triumph as he removed his jacket and laid it over the back of the chair.

“I suppose it will not harm to delay for a little while,”

TBC
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Forget Me Not