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Rossignol	By : Savaial Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Het Views: 5240 -:- 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
- 1-Rossignol
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Ch 4
- 5-Ch 5
- 6-Ch 6
- 7-7
- 8-Ch 8
- 9-Ch 9
- 10-Ch 10
- 11-Ch 11
- 12-Ch 12
- 13-Ch 13
- 14-Ch 14
- 15-Ch 15
- 16-Ch 16
- 17-Ch 17
- 18-Ch 18
- 19-Ch 19
- 20-Ch 20
- 21-Ch 21
- 22-Ch 22
- 23-Ch 23
- 24-Ch 24
- 25-Ch 25
- 26-Ch 26
- 27-Ch 27
- 28-Ch 28
- 29-Ch 29
- 30-30- Epilogue
- 19
- 20
- 21
I knew the moment I opened my eyes what I had done. A memory of hot, tight skin stretched over sinew, gliding over muscle and scar....

Oh.

My.

God.

Suddenly I felt very, very hot.

I'd seen his face.

I thought about it hard, trying to remember the details. Yes, Erik had looked very much like a skull. Christine had been right. I'd kissed his paper-thin forehead. And then, when I started to go, he grabbed me. A thrill shot through me at the remembrance.

Strong, patient Erik, losing his control and pulling me against his hard body. Arms of silk- wrapped steel holding me tight. His erection thrusting and insistent against my belly. The labor of his breath. The way he felt underneath my hand, trembling for dominion over his desire, jerking with every exploratory touch. Even his voice had reflected his need, every syllable hanging heavy and hot in the air between us. I'd drifted in it, reveled in it, encouraged him...

But he'd turned me down.

I got to my feet. More reeling than walking, I made it into the bathroom. Bile rose in my throat. I flipped the lid on the toilet and bent over it. I vomited until nothing came out but clear liquid, and after that I surrendered to dry heaving. When I was certain I'd finished, I went to the sink and cleaned up.

What he must think of me.

Nausea came again, but I swallowed it back with water. My teeth spasmed on the tumbler and I bit it, shattering the eggshell fine rim. I spat the bloody glass into the sink with a loud curse, hurling the rest of it into the fireplace. It smashed pleasingly.

I stood in the bathroom until my tongue and lip quit flowing, staring into the little hand mirror. Erik had said there was nothing wrong with me. I had to believe him. What then, was wrong with him? His face? Trivial. His habits? Livable. His manhood? I flushed. Working, no doubt about it. His love of murder? Maybe. I wasn't sure how to feel about it even now. I wasn't eager to see it happen, but to my shame I was no longer repulsed.

Suddenly, I had to get out. I had to get out of the room and walk.

I opened my door to silence. I could see the parlor clearly from the door. It was empty. I eased out with over-cautious stealth, holding my breath for fear it would give me away. The trip to the door seemed to take forever, but when I finally stood before it I felt relieved. The hidden latch gave easily.

A single lantern burned on the far shore, casting its warped gold reflection across the lake. I breathed in the cold and salty damp, my soul exalting. A rat ran up the wall behind me, squeaking in fear at my abrupt appearance. I watched him climb, surprised when he seemed to float over my head. A rat walk? I smothered my amusement as I continued to watch the rodent's progress. No, a wire. I could barely see it. It was thick and taut; the rat could run around it in a spiral pattern.

I felt a smile break over my face. It had been years since I'd climbed a tree, and I had a broken arm, but I thought I could get up there. I would have to jump, bring myself halfway up, and throw a leg over. But I was wearing a nightgown... Well, so what? It was black and wouldn't show grime.

It was a little harder than I remembered. I was indeed able to get the wire, and on the first jump no less, but I wasn't as light as I used to be, and I only had one arm to pull up with. I scrambled and swore, but it was sheer determination that granted my success. The wire banked upward sharply, hence the difficulty in getting my leg across it.

I sat on it feeling quite pleased with myself. I really wanted to start walking along the thing, but I heeded my inner wisdom and remained sitting. With a broken arm I wouldn't balance very well, and I really couldn't see much. It made me glow however, to know that I could still climb and that I had figured out how Erik had materialized behind us on the walkway. He'd just sat up here until we came close. Still, I had to admire his vision. A balancing act in the pitch dark was nothing to sneer at, not at all.

Eventually I gained enough confidence to sit on my haunches. My movements didn't shake the wire at all. Deducing it must be high tension; I slapped my palm against it with force. Nothing. Amazing! Erik had to have a crank on it somewhere, a hand-strung wire would have moved a little bit, or at least made a tone. I rocked back and forth boldly. Again, nothing. It was perfect for walking on; it wouldn't pitch or roll in the slightest. He probably had the thing going like a gigantic web all over the level. How marvelous to explore it! I wanted to do it so badly too, it tempted me beyond temptation.

My thoughts settled down with the sound of dripping water and the idea that I was alone, alone for the first time in ages and ages. I didn't mind Erik's company, but I'd needed to get away a few minutes, especially to think about him. I couldn't decide what made me more frustrated; the thought that Erik couldn't be persuaded to love me or the thought that he might not want to. I was a de Chagny. Maybe he didn't want to have anything to do with me because of that? But no, that felt wrong.

A rat fell into my hair and instantly tangled itself. Thinking it felt just like a squirrel doing the same thing, I reached up and pulled it out. It squeaked indignantly as I lowered it to the wire, but didn't bite me. It sat up and looked at me curiously. I wished I had piece of bread to feed it...

So what was I supposed to do? I'd broken into Erik's privacy and thrown myself at him. Gentleman that he was, he hadn't taken advantage of me. Another man might have enjoyed my offering, but Erik was no ordinary man.

Damn it, I had been asleep! What did I have to be ashamed of? It wasn't like I'd plotted to go in there and rouse him from a sound slumber with my shocking lack of refinement. I hadn't done anything but.... But follow the urges I had for him.

I winced. Yes, I wanted Erik, but I hadn't wanted to be so crude about expressing myself. I cared for him. I cared more for his company than for anything else in the world, I didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

I had to face it. I was in love. I was in love with a man who didn't even have a last name, a man who killed and enjoyed it. A man with a face like a corpse's. A man who lived underneath an opera house.

But Erik was so much more. Erik was kind and thoughtful. His gentle touch made me feel safe, like nothing mattered to him more than me. He made the most beautiful music, music to put real angels to shame. He'd brought me up out of a pit with his attention and cleverness, elevating me so that I could see my old self and know I could get back to who I used to be. All this and more and he'd done it for nothing. How could I not love him?

Beneath me, the door opened. Erik stepped out, his head turning as he scanned the lake. He'd discovered me missing. I felt a pang of conscience for letting him worry even a few minutes. Even from above he looked majestic.

"I'm up here Erik," I said, waving my hand. "I'm sorry, I needed to get out."

Erik looked up. From my position the glow in his eyes shone plainly. He stood in silent wonderment a few seconds, and then gave a short laugh. "Celeste, I have to admit that isn't as bad as me dangling you over the roof, but it's still bad enough for your brother to soil himself." He held out his arms. "I know if you got up there on your own you're capable of getting down too, but humor me."

I savored his pose a moment. I'd never seen anything more inviting in my life than the image of Erik waiting to catch me. Before he could become impatient though, I dropped. He swung me around like a child and a giggle escaped me. Answering me with a chuckle he carried me into the house and let me go.

"Honestly Celeste, Raoul would have my hide." Erik's playful tone belied he felt any threat at all. "How did you get up on my wire anyway? It has to be hard to manage with a broken arm."

"Raoul won't do shit," I said succinctly. "You scare him to death. I just climbed is all."

"Hm, I don't know about that." Erik leaned forward to snatch a cup off a tea tray. He'd brought the samovar into the parlor. "He seems fairly opinionated on what's best for you." He poured a cup and handed it to me. "That isn't to say you can't act as you want to."

"At least while I'm here with you," I amended sadly. "The moment Pierre is out of the way he'll go right back to playing the Egyptian overseer. He thinks he knows what's good for me."

"He knows I'm not good for you,” Erik said, his tone deceptively mild. "What happened to your bottom lip?" He asked it so casually I almost missed it.

"I bit down on the drinking glass in my bathroom." I sat down opposite him, watching his eyes. "It broke."

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" His gaze flickered.

"My tongue got a little cut too, but its fine now I think." I took a sip of tea. "Yes, I'm fine, the tea doesn't hurt."

Erik seemed to accept my answer. For a few minutes we sat silently. I enjoyed the quiet, but I couldn't help wanting to address what had happened during the night. I squirmed in the chair, trying to come up with a good way to open up a talk about it. I saw him watching me and straightened.

"Something on your mind?" he asked

"You might say that," I said a bit too quickly.

"You are very pale this morning." His tone held concern.

"Am I? I feel in good health."

"Yes. Pale and agitated." Erik laced his fingers together. "Do you want to talk about it?"

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

I felt torn. I wanted to know if he could ever think of me in a passionate way; I wanted that very much. On the other hand I didn’t know if I was ready to talk about what he did to me, even in the most roundabout manner. The cold warrior in my head just didn’t know what to do with the woman in my heart.

"I do want to talk about it actually,” I confessed. “But I don't know where to start." I bit my lip, feeling the cut begin to rend.

"If you think on it long enough, you will know. Don't rush." Erik closed his eyes. "I have all the time in the world."

And he certainly looked as if he had all the time in the world. Erik made things happen on his own schedule, he did not fight time the way a lesser man might. He was friends with time in nearly every way. Time was the basis of his music. Time flowed with his strategies exactly how he intended, accommodating his every whim. He was smart enough to plan for every eventuality, which left no room for surprises or hasty actions.

But time wasn’t my friend. I wanted to scream. In a week, maybe more, Pierre would come. One way or another I would become a free woman, I had no doubt of it. If by some miracle Erik did not kill him, Raoul would. I would no longer have the excuse of hiding to stay with Erik, and I knew he would never try to keep me. The rapport we so patiently built over the weeks wasn't enough of an excuse.

Damn you Erik, I thought, looking at his eyelids. If only I knew how to ask you for your love!

He cared for me already; I could hear it in his voice. How could I push his feelings forward and not push him away at the same time?

"You and your home allow me to feel freer than I've ever felt." I said softly. "Even if I walked around above as another member of the idle rich I wouldn't feel this way."

Erik opened his eyes. His soft gaze swept through me. I knew he wouldn't interrupt me. He listened to every word I said ever and always. I swallowed hard and tasted the blood from my lip.

"I know what I did to you last night. I remembered it first thing this morning,” I blurted out.

His eyes sparked and his head lowered. Still, Erik said nothing.

The silence in the room almost made me sick. For years I had waited for this kind of silence, yet at the moment I despised it. I dreaded what Erik might say now, but I longed to hear his voice too.

"I'm sorry I put you in such an uncomfortable position,” I went on. “I wouldn't have touched you without your permission had I been awake."

"Without my permission?" Erik finally broke in, the sparks in his eyes growing. "And if I gave you my permission?" His voice, though carefully neutral, held a mysterious tone. I swallowed hard. My hand twitched with the memory of his hot flesh.

"If you gave your permission-"

We both jumped in our seats as the door opened.

"I did it, I did it!" Christine sang, twirling in a little pirouette. She positively glowed with success. "I did it Erik, I'm Tosca!" Raoul, also grinning, grabbed her hand and spun her again. I got up to give her a hug, my eyes landing on Erik. He wasn't looking at Christine at all, but me. Our conversation will go on another time, his eyes seemed to say.

The evening eased into a surreal celebration. Congratulations were made, wine and relaxed conversation flowed. I tried to focus on Christine's happiness and Raoul's enthusiasm, but all I could find interest in was Erik.

He watched me carefully in those moments his attention didn't fall on the happy couple, his golden eyes lazy and intent by turns. I wondered what he was thinking. I wondered what I was thinking. I fidgeted; I twitched, I moved from place to place like a hummingbird. Eventually I made my way into the kitchen on a pretense of needing water, my heart pounding with the effort to remain normal. Trying to surpass the events of the previous night and the open-ended conversation a few hours ago made me crazy.

"What is going on between you and Erik?" Raoul's voice cut into my forced calm as I drew a glass from the cabinet. I closed my eyes and kept my back turned, afraid to meet such a question. If Raoul had enough presence of mind to see the longing in my eyes for the elegant maestro, the game was up.

What indeed brother? Maybe nothing, maybe everything.

"Celeste?" Raoul prompted, closing the distance between us. "I saw you leaving his room last night." His face was pinched with worry and disgust. In the next room I heard the piano start up and Christine begin to sing. Good. What I had to say would not go anywhere else for now.

"Did you see me trying to seduce him while I slumbered?" I asked point-blank, turning to run the faucet. "Did you see him refuse me and take me back into my room?"

Raoul's face, dark as a stormy sky, drew into a frown. "That's what I thought I saw," he admitted. "But you haven't taken your eyes off him all evening.” Raoul shook his head as if trying to clear it of bees. “You don't know what you're asking of him and you don't even know what he is." He moved closer, taking me by the shoulders. "Celeste, there are so many men; so many decent men that would love to woo you. Why are you fixating on him?" He shook me slightly, as if rattling my head would cement his point. "Do you know how dangerous he is? Do you have any idea what he's capable of?"

I brushed him off and filled my glass, anger starting in the pit of my stomach. How dare he try to influence me on my choice of men? I was disappointed in his lack of consistency. It hadn’t bothered him to sell me off to some stranger ten years ago, why would he argue over my choices now? He should have stayed arrogant and demanded I not chose Erik. At least I would have respected his strength of conviction.

Looking directly at my brother, I forced a smile. He knew nothing of Erik's duality; he could only see the black and none of the white. It pleased him not to see, just as it pleased him not to see his little sister’s retarded manner and abject loneliness. But now that I could speak I had his respect apparently. Now I was a creature to be reasoned with and persuaded. I was just a woman, wasn’t I? I could be made to think as he liked.

I drank my water down, my ears picking up Beethoven's opus 64 in B minor. Erik had abandoned the piano for the violin.

"Are you listening to me Celeste?" Raoul stepped into my vision, looking angry. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

It amused me that Raoul had abandoned his wheedling so quickly. It seemed speech could only get me so far with him. He still understood that he was a man, a family member who was supposed to look after my welfare. "I don't have to answer to you Raoul, I'm not a child,” I answered smoothly. "And I could hardly help but listen to you. Tell me what it is you want me to say."

"I want you to say that you'll drop this idea you have about Erik,” Raoul said through gritted teeth. "Surely you don't have any hope of linking yourself to a murderer." As he spoke, Raoul clenched and rolled something in his fist. It was too small to see. “You saw him kill someone, so don’t defend him!” His eyes were dark now, dark and furious.

"You're a murderer too Raoul, or didn't you shoot enough Prussians to gain a marksman's medal?" I set my tumbler down and laced my hands behind my back. "Don't tell me it's different for war, I don't believe it. A murder is a murder is a murder. You've probably killed more people than he has."

Raoul staggered backward as if I'd shoved him, his face falling into disbelief. "But that is different Celeste, I was under orders and he's under no command but his own whimsy!"

"And your command," I countered softly. "You brought me here and laid my fate in his hands. He killed Vernon Lescot for you Raoul, when you get down to the bottom line of it. He'd never have had cause to kill the man if he hadn't been embroiled in the de Chagny’s troubles." I tilted my head back, looking at him through slits of eyelid. "I have trouble imagining that you feel perfectly comfortable killing people you don't know, and that you feel in the right to criticize a man who always kills one on one." I paused, smiling at Raoul's expression of horror. "Do you think your kills ever keep Christine awake at night? Do you think she wakes up at two o'clock in the morning to ponder over the souls you've sent to perdition?"

"I had permission,” Raoul said firmly, "I had a duty. I was a soldier for God's sake!" Again he worried at the small object in his hand.

He would have said more, but I interrupted him.

"Are you still a good Catholic Raoul? Have you read the Ten Commandments given to Moses on Mount Sinai? Number six, Thou shalt not kill. Who has your allegiance more, your god or your country?"

"Goddamn it Celeste-"

"Number three Raoul, thou shalt not take the name of thy Lord God in vain. Do you remember to go to church on Sunday? We can try for three strikes against your piety."

I thought he was going to lay his hands on me he looked so angry. He stood stock still, his face red and his hands balled into fists. Interestingly enough, the madder he got the calmer I became. I smiled, leaning my hip against the stove. "Don't preach your morals to me Raoul. I don't believe in your god, I don't believe in your convenient rationalizations, and I especially don't trust your judgment. I've seen degradation and misery enough to put me in the grave, and I'm not interested in adopting your self-abasing values to further my pain."

"Celeste, why won't you listen to reason?" Raoul looked close to tears, but he held onto his anger well enough to flail his arms around. "I'm only trying to help you!"

"And you have Raoul, you have. I'd still be in Hamlin if you hadn't come to my aid. You are my brother and I love you with all my heart, but you don't have the right to tell me how to live. Your rescue wasn't an assumption of ownership. I'm not the stupid little girl you think I am, I never was."

"You know who you sound like?" Raoul panted angrily, grabbing my wrist and giving me a jerk. "You sound like him. He gave you a voice alright, his own!"

"Let go of me Raoul, or I swear I'll blacken your eye!" I hissed, wrenching away from him. "Erik didn't need to put words in my mouth, I had the words all along; you just didn’t bother yourself to read them! You were ashamed of me; don't think I didn't know it. I knew why you kept your friends out of the drawing room, why you never took me anywhere, why you tiptoed past my bedroom.” My gut twisted to even remember how much that had hurt me. “You didn't want to deal with me then, why should I be grateful for your interference now?"

I marched past him, slamming the kitchen door open so hard it rattled on its hinges. I heard him calling out to me, but I ignored him. I was so angry, so wrathful over his stupidity I wanted to strangle him.

What right did he have to tell me what to do? What right did he have to tell me where my heart should lay? His own heart had never lain close to mine, never! I had been willing to give him a chance to rectify that, and what did he do to repay my forgiveness? Meddle! Meddle in my affairs and puff up like the self-inflated windbag that he was. I was sick of being tossed around, used and owned, sick to death of it.

Erik and Christine stood silently in the parlor; I caught them out of the corner of my eye. Sparing them a small nod, I entered my bedroom and shut the door. I didn't care what they had heard.

I sat on the bed, my head in my one good hand. The broken bone in my arm throbbed in time with a massive headache behind my temples. I was a lamentable mess.

Raoul was the only family I had left, why did he have to be such an ass? I'd never presumed to know what was good for him; I'd never even had the respect to be asked! Tears started to flow and I didn't try to halt their progress; I had too much pain inside me begging to be let out.

A knock came at the door.

"Go away Raoul, I'm finished speaking to you!" I shouted.

A brief pause.

"It's Erik. Do you want to be alone?" My host's beautiful voice drifted through the wooden barrier as easily as if it were tissue paper. I wiped my eyes.

"Come in Erik."

He glided in, shutting the door behind him. Helpless to hide my misery, I just looked at him. He seemed so strong standing there in the muted gaslight. I wanted some of that strength, but I wouldn't touch him without an invitation. I'd made a mess out of my relationship with Raoul. I didn't want to make things worse with Erik, God forbid. I couldn't stand to lose the only real friend I'd ever had.

Erik sat down beside me, taking my hand. I felt the gesture as keenly as I had on the roof. I could tell he was as leery of human touch as I, but he made an exception for me like I did for him. We were mutually exclusive.

"You know he's awful at being a brother, he's had no experience," I muttered. "But I hardly see why he cares to be one now. Is it just that he doesn't have to be ashamed of me anymore? Because I can talk? Is that it?"

"He learned how to treat you from the examples set before him,” Erik replied, tracing my thumb with his own. "Now you are all he has left and he feels guilty for letting terrible things happen to you. He doesn't know what he should do." He paused. "I heard my name in the argument." His voice dropped to an uneasy timbre.

"He thinks I sound like you," I admitted, laying my head on his shoulder. It was the most natural feeling in the world. It was so natural I didn’t even think about it until the edge of his tie tickled my jaw. He didn’t pull away and I loved him for it. I sighed, feeling safe and somewhat distanced from my troubles. "Poor Raoul, he never paid enough attention to know I've always been this way. He was surprised when I threw his religion and morals back in his face."

"You don't believe the way he does." Erik said it as a question. His thumb traveled to the inside of my wrist to trace soothing circles over my veins.

"No, I wasn't sorry no one would take me to mass. I don't think I was even baptized." It was getting harder for me to think. Erik’s touch elicited silence for favor of sensation. I found it fitting. Erik’s voice gave me the highest sensations I’d ever had.

"I wasn't baptized either, if it makes you feel any better. Maybe that's what's wrong with us," Erik chuckled softly. “Missing God's water let us keep all that Original Sin."

I couldn't help but smile, but my sadness bled through it I knew.

"I can't be who he wants me to be Erik, I can't be the innocent little girl who wants nothing but a rich husband and a house to keep. Raoul wants me on this pedestal of social niceties and all I can think about is how to keep away from that."

"You don't have to listen to him; you don't have to be anybody but Celeste." Erik began to stroke my hair in a soothing, steady rhythm, his large hands gentle and careful. "He'll either come around or he won't, but don't give in because you feel pressured to do so. This is your life my dear, you are the one who decides what to do with it." He stopped caressing my hair and lifted his head. "Your brother and Christine have gone to bed. You can feel sorry for Raoul in another way now, because Christine was furious on your behalf. I'd say she is most likely tearing into him right now."

"Good, maybe he'll listen to her." I felt a little vindicated now. "Just how much did the two of you hear?"

"The first thing I heard clearly was your defense of me over the murder of Vernon Lescot." He twisted around so he could look me eye to eye. "You didn't have to do that Celeste, but I feel you defended me rather well. I especially enjoyed how you incorporated the commandments into your argument."

"I couldn't help it, he's so damn smug."

Erik gave a snort of amusement. “How well I know this,” he murmured wryly. "But you really are defending the worst sort of murderer,” Erik said lowly. "I have killed more people than your brother has. I was an assassin in Persia for many years. I've sent hundreds of men to their maker. Vernon Lescot meant nothing to me." A light flickered behind his eyes. "Do you really feel comfortable knowing this about me? Can you justify my actions and ignore the little voice that tells you to get away from me while you still can?"

Erik released me to lay flat on his back on the bed. His golden eyes wandered across the ceiling, seeing nothing. "I won't ever hurt you Celeste, but I can't promise you aren't going to see me hurting others. I don't want you to think I'm someone who can be reformed, who can change or be tamed. I am a predator and I have always been one." He gave a small sigh, closing his bright yellow eyes.

I searched myself as I looked at him. I'd been going over the issues he brought up for a good time now. The animal in him had a beauty of its own, separate and yet indistinguishable from the angel and the man. One had to take the beast in order to get the beauty. I decided I could live with that, but he wouldn't believe me. Not yet.

"I like you the way you are Erik, and I don't feel the need to justify anything you do." I meant it. Even if he did things I didn’t like I would never feel the need to smooth it over for someone else. Erik was Erik and that was that.

He turned his eyes, pinning me to the spot

"Are you sure my dear? Are you absolutely sure?"

I quivered both inside and out with his question. This question encompassed far more than simple acceptance. This question led me back to the parlor, squirming under his relentless eyes while preparing to confess…

"On that, yes,” I answered. “You don’t need to change.”

He laughed lowly.

"What makes you different from everyone else then I wonder?" His eyes closed slowly as he inhaled a deep breath. “Your story is tragic my dear, I fully understand that, but many people lead tragic lives.” He opened his eyes again. His soft, thoughtful gaze pierced me to my very soul. “You accept my help with such trust,” he said, almost whispering. “And now you have to think about blood when you look at me. It seems covering my face was the smallest gesture I could make.”

I started to say that he’d made it easy to trust him, and that I couldn’t be that different from anyone else, but the look in his eyes stopped me. It was a look of adoration, of softly revealed, gentle respect. "You are a special woman Celeste; I wouldn't have you turned into your brother's ideal of a lady for anything.” Erik smiled beneath his mask; I felt it plainly. “You are a lady already," he finished quietly.

A knock came at the door. Christine poked her head in, looking weary.

"I'm sorry to intrude, but I am in desperate need of laudanum," she whispered, looking down at Erik's outstretched form. "You still have some of it, don't you Erik?"

"Yes, of course. Headache?" he inquired, getting up easily from his prone position.

"Raging," she answered with a smile. "Will you get it for me, please? I'll wait right here."

"Certainly, I won't be a moment."

No sooner was Erik out of earshot, than Christine turned to look at me with a grin. "I think you should know Raoul is kicking himself for being so stupid. He's not really like this Celeste; he's just a maniac over your safety."

"I know Christine, I know. Let him stew awhile longer though, he really hurt my feelings tonight." I wasn’t ready to make up with him. I wanted him to suffer the same feelings of rejection and doubt I’d lived with; if only for one night instead of my nine thousand, one hundred and fifty six nights.

"Oh, I will, don't worry,” Christine assured me. “The laudanum I sent Erik for is to put me numb to his plight. I'm too soft on him, but with those drugs in me I can keep my stony composure." She looked around quickly. "Any luck with him?"

"I don't know, I'm going to need more time than what I expect to get. I really don't want to leave." I put my head in my hands.

"I know you don’t; I can see it in your eyes. I don't think he wants you to leave either." Christine sighed.

"Oh but he does, he might taint me if I stay," I said harshly. “He’s never come out and said it, but he thinks it.”

"Some people wear a bit of patina rather well." Christine smiled. "Don't give up girl, keep at him." She shushed as Erik's shadow fell across the far wall. When he came in we both managed to look fairly innocent, I thought.

"Here Christine,” Erik handed her a glass with a measure of dark liquid in the bottom. "I gave you extra in case you wanted to put your husband out too. You might not get any sleep otherwise."

Christine stood up, taking the laudanum out of his hand. "I will do no such thing Erik, let him pace all night." She turned up the glass, draining it like it wasn't anything but water. "He isn't going to keep me awake." She winked at us both and floated away, humming a little tune.
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Rossignol