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You Alone	By : mrssmeagol Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Het Views: 2670 -:- 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
- 6
- 7
- 8
DISCLAIMER: See chapter 1.

A/N: Yey! An update! *wants reviews*

Chapter 7 - He Calls Me Softly

Young Philippe de Chagny was tired. He had spent the whole afternoon in the music room, playing his new violin. Maman had insisted on Papa to buy one for months but at the end, it was his Angel who had brought it to him. The instrument was rather old but it had such beautiful voice that Philippe was sure that it would haunt him even in his dreams. Maman had sat there, listening to him the whole time. She had told Philippe but a couple of days ago that he was going to have a little sister or brother. Philippe was not exactly sure, if he was too happy about it. He knew that babies cried almost all the time, which was really quite annoying. Maman had assured him that she would still love him as much as she always had and that was enough for Philippe.

He had just started to play a beautiful piece from Sei Solo – a violino senza Basso accompagnato by Bach when Papa entered the room and asked him to stop. Philippe gave a questioning glance at Maman, who nodded with a sad smile. With an audible sigh, the child put the violin on the table and left the room, allowing his parents to speak privately. After closing the door, he leaned slightly closer to hear what Papa had to say. Maman had, of course, told him that eavesdropping was not something nice little boys would do. Still, it could not hurt anybody if he listened only for a little moment, could it?

"Is that a new violin?" Papa's surprised voice asked.
"Oui."
"Where has it come from?"
"I bought it when it realized that you no longer wanted to support Philippe's musical activities."
Philippe frowned. Why would Papa want him not to play?
"Oh," was Papa's only reply. "Anyway, the reason why I came is that I received a letter, requiring to be replied as quickly as possible."
"What is it?"
"A gentleman called Nadir Khan asks us to meet him. He has something urgent to tell us."
"Then you had better to invite him here. Unless, of course, you want to take Philippe and me to Paris."
"I'll write him at once."

Philippe had barely time to hide before Papa came out. Had he really said that Nadir Khan had written him? The Nadir Khan, the Daroga of Mazandera? The one, which Angel had told all those stories about? He could not ask his Maman, of course, for if he did, she would know that he had spied on them. He would have to wait until his Angel would come to him at night.

Philippe returned into the music room and found his Maman examining his new violin.
"Can I come back now?"
"Of course, Philippe."
She smiled at him and gently laid the violin back on the table. She reached for the child and easily lifted him to sit on her lap, burying her face into his dark hair. The child frowned slightly, reaching his hand up to touch his Maman's cheek. For his surprise, he realized that she was crying.
"Do not cry, Maman," he whispered so softly that he was not sure if she even heard it.
"You know that I love you, Philippe, do you not?"
He nodded slowly. Maman was certainly acting strangely enough for him to worry.
"What is it, Maman?" he asked after a while of silence.
"Nothing too serious. Papa received a letter from an old friend of ours and I am not quite sure what to think."
"I believe you should not worry. My Angel shall watch over the both of us."
For Philippe's surprise, Maman began to laugh. "Oui, my dearest, I believe he will."

That night, Maman seemed to stay longer than she usually did, when she came to put him into the bed. She even told him another story about the Angel of Music. Finally, she kissed him goodnight and left the room. That night he did not have to wait for long before he heard his Angel's familiar voice.
"Do you like your new violin, child?"
"Oui, I do. Thank you again."
"It was my pleasure," Angel answered and Philippe could hear his smile in his voice. "Your father used to play it when he was about your age."
"Really?" Philippe sat up in his bed. "Are you sure? Did he play well?"
"Oui, I think he did."
"Does he know that I have his old violin?"
"He personally asked me to give that violin to you."
"Please, tell me about my father, Angel," the child asked. "What does he look like?"

Comtess de Chagny knew that eavesdropping was not something a woman in her age and position was expected to do. Still, she could not resist the temptation to listen her son to speak with his real father. She had already identified her son's new violin as the one she had once seen in Erik's lair. Erik had confirmed to their son that the violin was, indeed, his old one. She could not quite suppress a smile as she listened to the patience with which the father spoke to his son and answered the endless tide of his questions. Still, when the child asked him to tell about his father and what he looks like, she could not help but worry. Erik's temper was something she had early learnt not to test.

It took a while before the child's question was answered.
"Your father does not look like an angel, child. There is no man on this earth who would look exactly like he does."
"Do I not look like him?"
"There are certain features, which - I believe - remind your Maman about him every single time she looks at you. I would say that you look quite a lot like your grandfather."
"Did my Maman love him?"
"I believe she still does."
"Then why is she married to my Papa?"
"It is complicated, Philippe, even in adults' opinions. I might explain it to you someday when you are older."
She knew that even though Philippe was not happy with the answer, he would not ask the question again. He was such a sensitive little boy.

The room was silent for a little time, both the Angel and the boy still thinking about the previous question.
"Angel?" Philippe's voice finally asked, bringing his mother, too, from her thoughts.
"I am still here."
"May I ask you another question? I promise it has nothing to do with my father, since you do not seem to enjoy talking about him tonight."
"Please do." His voice was soft and gentle and at that moment, Christine could not have been more proud of her son.
"The Daroga you have told me all those stories about - is he real? I think I overheard Papa mention his name today."
Christine frowned slightly. Had the boy been eavesdropping?
"Nadir? Oui, child, he is very real. I think he has saved my life more times than I could possibly count - and vice versa."
"Do Maman and Papa know him?"
"Yes, they do. They have met each others quite a lot of times at Opera Garnier in Paris."
"I have never been to opera," the child confessed suddenly.
"Would you like to visit an opera?"
"Oui, of course! Could you take me there?"
"I could always try to. But now, you should start to sleep."
"But, Angel..."
"No buts, Philippe. I shall talk with you again tomorrow."
"Oui, mon Ange."

About half an hour later, when she was certain that her husband was fast asleep, Comtess de Chagny entered the dark music room.
"You are late," the voice of her tutor, her mentor - her lover - greeted her.
"My apologies, Erik. I had to be sure that my husband is asleep."
"Did you enjoy the little conversation between Philippe and moi?"
His voice was more teasing than angry - and it made her blush.
"I - I am sorry, Erik. I know I should not have..."
"It is all right, mon ange. Tell me, what business does your beloved husband have with my friend?"
"Raoul told me that Nadir has written him, asking to meet us as soon as possible."
"What for?"
"I do not know."

The man was silent for a moment. Then he asked, uncharacteristically gently, "How are you?"
"Pregnant."
He chuckled at that. "Close your eyes, Christine."
She did as he asked to - she always did. If she could please him this easily...

She was brought from her thoughts as she felt his hands around her. Without giving it another thought, she leaned back against him. It was almost as if she was a child, trying to hide inside his cape.
"Take us away, Erik," she whispered. "Take us all away from here."
"I will, mon amour, I will. You just need to be patient," he answered as softly.
"What are you going to do with Raoul? You know that he will try to track us down."
"I try not to do anything with him. I can make anything disappear if I wish."
"Then why not make us disappear right now?"

He chuckled softly at her eagerness.
"Patience, child, is a virtue."
"You have never been patient either, have you?"
"No," he admitted. "No, I have not."
"Just tell me, Erik, how long am I going to have to wait?"
He slowly turned her around so that he was facing her.
"Not long, mon ange," he murmured just before he claimed her lips.
- 6
- 7
- 8
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You Alone