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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
- 4
- 5
- 6
The clock had only finished striking six when I heard the Rue Scribe bells. I sighed, tossing my book onto the table. The Vicomte must have not slept at all to be returning so soon. I both hoped and dreaded Christine would be with him. On the one hand it would be nice to send another woman in to check on madam Lescot, and on the other hand I did not want to look at her. She still had the power to step all over my bruised heart.

When the knock came I released the door mechanism and stepped back. The Vicomte and Christine entered without preamble.

"She is still sleeping Vicomte," I said, anticipating his question.

"How does she fare?" he countered, twisting nervously on the brim of his hat.

For a bare moment I considered telling him I heard his sister speak, but I decided not to. Celeste might not remember speaking, or that she even had the power to, and it would be stressful and cruel to put her in the position to prove it.

"She sleepwalks," I said.

"She always did." Raoul sat down and Christine moved forward, holding out a small box to me.

"Erik, I didn't know if you had extra drugs here," she said nervously. "Raoul and I brought morphine and laudanum."

I took her offering, feeling myself smile. She was still so afraid of me, even after all this time. It was funny in a very sad way.

"Thank you madam," I answered formally. "Perhaps you would be so good as to look in on madam Lescot?" Christine blinked at me, as if she felt surprise I would ask her to do such a thing. "I would not take the risk of seeing her... indisposed," I added by way of meaning. Her eyes widened with comprehension, the tension leaking out of her nervous stance. Murmuring her agreement, she began to tiptoe down the hallway.

"What do you know of your sister's captivity?" I asked the Vicomte, seating myself nearby. "Somnambulism is something one usually outgrows."

"I know very little monsieur. The only reason I knew she needed me was she managed to send a letter somehow." Raoul drew a rather badly treated piece of paper out of his waistcoat, smoothing it across his knee with a painful reverence. "If you like, you may read it," he offered, holding it out to me with weary resignation. "I believe someone may have helped her to write it."

"And why is that Vicomte?" I scanned the paper as I spoke, noting the handwriting to be the same as what I'd seen the lady herself employ. The missive was not long.

Raoul, I am being held prisoner in Hamlin Institution, west of Columbus, state of Ohio. I am on the top floor, room 33. The guard is posted at 6 and 6. Bedtime is eight o’clock. Night watch stands at the door and is not relieved for short water closet trips. There are no dogs. Please hurry, Celeste.

A well-drawn map followed the words.

"Because Celeste is handicapped,” Raoul answered tersely, his jaw clenching. "She never did well in her studies monsieur, she is slow."

"You think so?" I drew out the paper madam Lescot had written to me on, handing it over to him. "I believe your sister is very intelligent, if I am to judge by her grammar skills and sentence content." I watched him read, feeling a glow of satisfaction as he understood the extent of Celeste's mind. Apparently he believed her incapable of any kind of loquaciousness. "Perhaps you did not look for her brain hard enough?"

"This is incredible!" Raoul tossed the paper down onto the coffee table. "Philippe told me she hadn't improved. Surely he would have noticed Celeste's jump of intelligence!"

"Are you sure she wasn't smart to begin with monsieur? Retarded people do not just get well."

"But she doesn't speak!" Raoul jumped up and began to pace.

"By your measurement of intelligence I must be the smartest man alive," I replied, smiling. "For you cannot deny I speak very well."

The Vicomte stopped in his tracks, his head whipping around to gain eye contact. "Yes you do, Monsieur Phantom, you speak too well." He glared at me a moment, dragging his hands through his already untidy hair. "I've often wondered just how you came to have such a voice, wondered how often you used your ability for nefarious purposes, and wondered still more often if Christine was the only one you manipulated with it."

The venom in his voice prickled at my ire, but I couldn't help but be amused by his ignorance. "Of course she isn't the only one monsieur," I chided softly, dropping my tone.

Then first a liquid joy should float
From out the native wilding's throat.
With frenzied eye, and quivering wing,
And 'passioned power that bird should sing;
With wild and mounting rhapsody
As though he pined to pierce the sky;
And when the last full marvel fell
There should be silence like a spell.

The Vicomte stood spellbound a full thirty seconds after I finished my recitation. When he shook himself awake his face changed from confusion to outright anger. "You have no qualms about manipulating people to prove your point, do you?" he huffed, marching to where I sat. "And, you take offense when I hesitate to leave my sister with you?"

I regarded him calmly, allowing him the view of my disdainful eyes. Perhaps he would get lucky enough to see them today; I had some of the lamps turned down. "Steady yourself Vicomte de Chagny; I was only proving you right after all. You need not trouble yourself over your sister's welfare while she remains under my roof. I would not add one gram more to the weight she already carries."

Raoul closed his eyes and sucked in air through his nose. The vexation I'd deliberately inspired seemed to leak out with his exhale, but it also appeared very contrived. The idea that I bothered him as much as he bothered me felt very comforting; especially in light of the prize he'd stolen right out from under my wing. Articles of war demanded I follow certain protocol when dealing with an enemy, but those articles said nothing about me pulling any lawful punches.

"So," he said at last, "You think Celeste is far from being handicapped. I hope to God you are the one who is right and I am the one who is wrong." Raoul sat back down. "My purpose in coming here was to see how she fared through the night. When Christine comes back I shall go visit her."

As if on cue, Christine came through the doorway, Celeste in gentle tow. She had helped her into a generous robe, but not one of hers. It was mine! I shot a glance at the Vicomte, who also made note of her clothing. His face darkened.

"Don't get excited Raoul," Christine said, looking impatient. "I didn't think Erik would mind if I went through his closet. Celeste can't get her arm through those little, filmy robes." She cast her eyes toward me and I nodded my assent quickly.

I hadn't thought of that particular difficulty. The young woman looked rather charming in my Persian print dressing gown, even though it hung furlongs too long and dragged the floor. She herself looked at me as I finished my critical appraisal, her face coloring slightly. I wondered if she remembered the events of the night.

"Erik, may I speak to you a moment?" Christine asked quietly, allowing Raoul to take Celeste's hand. "Only a moment, I won't take long."

I nodded, motioning her to walk with me to the other side of the room. I didn't want to be alone with her; I feared I would say something I would later regret, but I never could deny her anything. She glanced around me before wetting her lips and clearing her throat. She felt nervous too.

Good. I was getting a little of my own back this morning.

"Erik, Celeste is going to need a few things if she stays here,” Christine began softly. "Do you want me to go out for them?"

"Like what?" I tilted my head, not understanding. True, a lot of the things in Christine's room were old, but nothing would be too terribly out of date.

To my surprise, she blushed violently.

"T-things Erik," she stammered, "Things a man would know nothing about. I would have assumed I had your permission to take care of this, but I didn't know how you would react to having so many visits." She looked away briefly as I shook my head in ignorance.

What was she talking about?

"Celeste needs feminine toiletries,” Christine said firmly, her eyes flashing with impatience. "Don't make me say exactly what, alright?"

Ah.

I felt glad of the mask that covered my embarrassment. "Do what needs to be done," I said. "Forgive me; I truly did not know what you so vaguely referred to. Like you said, I am a man and…” I let myself trail off. "Don't worry about the visits required. I don't want madam Lescot in any discomfort."

"I didn't think you would, but I didn't want to surprise you." Christine gave a little sigh of relief. "She seems a little better already. I knew you would take care of her properly." She said this with all the confidence in the world, eyeing me fondly but guardedly. "How have you been Erik? Why did you let me think you were dead?"

I looked at her, a thousand biting retorts coming to mind in an instant. I could have said any number of them, and I believed I had a right to, but I didn't. "You slept well at night, didn't you Christine? And, didn't your husband? Better for you both to believe Erik dead and buried."

Christine winced. "I hoped we could be friends," she said in a small voice.

"We can be friends now, but I don't think we could have been at the time," I answered.

What was I saying? Did I really think I could ever be easy in her presence?

"The years have been good to you my little diva, but you might have a wrinkle or two by now if you'd wondered when Erik would stop by for tea."

"I can't deny it." Christine lowered her eyes, as if ashamed. "You are so intense Erik, so wild and passionate. I just couldn't keep up with you."

My heart clenched. She was so very correct. "I shouldn't have made you try," I said evenly. "Don't think for a minute I'll ask you to try again, I can see how happy you are. I might be a monster, but I have a heart."

"I know you do, I've seen it." Christine smiled tenderly, her eyes moist with happiness. "But I thank you for your candor. I'll get the things Celeste needs and be back with Raoul soon, alright?"

"Very well,” I sighed, feeling a tremendous weight lift off my shoulders. I pulled my money clip out of my vest and handed it to her. "If you would be so good as to pick up a few groceries I would be grateful. The Vicomte will want to pay for them of course, but I can trust you to be discreet can't I?" I smiled and I knew she would sense it.

"Yes Erik, I can," she smiled back. "But, it doesn't matter; poor Raoul doesn't know what things cost anyway."

"Be glad that he doesn't my dear, it works to your advantage."
- 4
- 5
- 6
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Rossignol