The Phantom's Lullaby c5 (Homecoming)

[gallifreyireland]

The Phantom's Lullaby Chapter 5- Homecoming

synopsis: "With his past, how could the future be any less than agonizing? And yet, she had kissed him. Twice. In that moment, it had almost seemed like she wanted to stay..." Alternate ending to ALW's PoTO, but with references to Susan Kay's Phantom. E/C
disclaimer: I don't own Phantom of the Opera or its characters. Nor do I own any songs quoted in this fic.
in this chapter: Erik gets nostalgic, Christine rides a horse, a stunning announcement is given.

Homecoming

Erik had found some tea leaves in his home beneath the Opera, so while he was catching up with his friend - friend! -  Christine began to brew some tea for the three of them. It gave her something to do and made her feel less out of place as the men discussed what had happened in their years apart.

“How did you escape from the Shah’s wrath? I’m sure that he and the Khanum weren’t pleased when you didn’t bring me back with you.”

Christine listened intently as she busied herself in the small kitchen area. Every detail was another piece of the puzzle that was Erik. Even if she didn’t understand half of it.

“I didn’t go back. After I left you, I returned to my home and packed as much as I could, then fled the country. I ended up in Germany for a while before venturing to England, Spain, and eventually France. I knew that you would probably return here after the…unpleasantness you endured in Persia. It was only a matter of time before I found you. I was passing through Paris and heard rumor of some sort of Opera Ghost who played tricks and left mysterious notes. I immediately bought a season pass to the Opera Populaire.” Nadir’s lined face cracked into a grin at Erik’s grimace. “I had hoped to somehow bump into you, but after a few months I almost gave up!”

“You were here for months and I never saw you?”

“That’s right. Obviously your attention was diverted on other matters…” Nadir’s gaze flickered to Christine and she blushed as she served the tea before joining them on the settee. She looped her hand through Erik’s left arm and leaned her head on his shoulder, hiding from the strange man’s curious glance.

Erik coughed a little mid-sip. “Yes, well…. I admit I was a little distracted at the time.” He grinned at Christine whose eyebrows pulled together, obviously offended to be referred to as a simple distraction. He quickly planted a kiss on her forehead, effectively smoothing out her hurt expression.  “I’m sorry, Christine. I don’t believe I’ve properly introduced you two. This is Nadir Khan. He was the daroga- chief of police- in Persia. We were allies of a sort while I lived there. He helped me to escape when things became…difficult.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Daaé.  I had hoped that Erik would find someone to share his heart with- he was always so lonely, you see- and you seem to be the perfect companion for him. I haven’t seen him this happy…well; I’ve never seen him this happy.” He chuckled and took a sip of his tea.

Christine’s face warmed again at his compliment. “Thank you, Monsieur Khan. But, how did you know my name?”

“Ah, we’ve finally come to the important bit. To put it simply, Madame Giry. But I’m sure you both would like to know how I came to meet her. After the Bal Masque on New Year’s Eve, there were stories spreading like wildfire among those who frequented the Populaire. They told tales of a strange man, clothed in red, who interrupted the evening and gave the managers a new Opera to perform, all the while railing on about his ‘student’. I didn’t know much about the situation so I asked around the corps de ballet- they tend to know everything that happens backstage- and met the young Meg Giry who took me to see her mother.”

xXx

I met her after a practice session one evening and demanded to know everything she could tell me about this Opera Ghost. She initially refused and assured me that she didn’t know anything about the man, but after I mentioned your name, Erik, her eyes grew wide and she ushered me into her small apartment backstage. She made me tell her how I knew you, extracted every last detail, before she would believe me.

“Monsieur, if you truly know Erik, you must help him. He’s not himself lately and I’m afraid of what he might do.” She was wringing her hands and had a desperate gleam in her eye. I was able to calm her somewhat, and she began to tell me of the ‘Phantom’. How you had tutored Mademoiselle Daaé from a young age and had grown quite attached to her.

“There was…an accident. A scene shifter, Joseph Buquet…”

“That was the man hanged during Il Muto?”

“You know of this, Monsieur?”

“I saw it happen.”

“Yes, well. After that night, Christine refused to attend any more lessons with her tutor. She began seeing a patron of the Opera- the Vicomte de Chagny. She told me they were engaged to be married; but that I was to keep it a secret…I knew Erik would find out anyway. He always knows. As I suspected, the news enraged him. He threw himself into that damn Opera- his Don Juan Triumphant. I knew it was dangerous and that he only worked on it in times of extreme stress…Then on the night of the Masquerade Ball, he brought it to the managers and demanded they begin rehearsal to perform it. He was so terribly upset, he couldn’t see reason…opening night is next week, and I’m afraid of what he might do. I know he would never hurt Christine, but the Vicomte? I’m not sure of his safety.”

I promised her that I would be there on opening night, but I wasn’t sure if I would be able to help. I asked her to show me to your home in the cellars, but she refused. Said you would not be in any shape for visitors.

xXx

Erik was very still throughout Nadir’s story, and Christine clung to his arm as though he might jump up and run through the door, never to be seen again. She could tell being reminded of just how far his madness had gone hurt him deeply. There were so many regrets. His stress was palpable, a tangible presence in the air, as Nadir continued.

“After you disappeared with Miss Daaé, the Opera House was in pandemonium. I tried to follow but didn’t want to be caught up in the crowds backstage and trampled; so instead I left, hoping to find Madame Giry once more. I waited at her home, but the hour was late and I thought it better to return the next morning. Over tea the next day Madame told me that you must have some other residence nearby for emergency purposes, but she did not know where it would be. I’ve been searching around the outskirts of Paris since yesterday afternoon. And here we are.”

No one spoke for an eternity. Erik’s gaze was solidly on the floor while Christine and Nadir both watched him, anxious for his reaction.

Suddenly his eyes softened and he broke into a grin. “Obviously this place is not as hidden as I thought if an old man could find it so easily!”

Christine instantly relaxed, threading her fingers through his and giving his hand a light squeeze of encouragement.

“I’ve had enough experience with you, Monsieur Phantom, to know just the right kind of places to look!” The Daroga teased lightly. “But what will you do now? Will you leave Paris? Madame Giry told me the boy was still looking for you.”

Christine looked up at him with interest. This was news.

“First things first. Christine and I,” Erik looked over at her with a gleam in his eye. “We are getting married.”

Nadir didn’t look very surprised at this announcement. “Well I should hope so, the way you keep looking at each other.”

Christine’s face reddened once more, but Erik continued on as if his old friend hadn’t spoken. “I know someone who will marry us. But we have to go to Boscherville. It’s about 130 kilometers northwest of Paris, so just half a day’s traveling now that we have Cesar.”

XxxX

It had been decided that Nadir would ride back to Paris and inform the Girys of the wedding plans. They were to travel by train to Boscherville for the small ceremony, which would take place the following evening if all went well. ‘All’ meaning that Erik would be able to find this priest he had mentioned and that the man would be able (and willing) to marry them in secret.

Erik and his future bride would ride Cesar to Boscherville at once to get settled and prepared for their wedding. After the couple bid farewell to the Daroga, Erik began repacking their belongings more securely on his horse’s back in preparation for the long ride ahead. He was interrupted when Christine came up behind him and wound her arms tightly around his waist, resting her head on his back.

He let himself relax into her embrace, enjoying her warmth and affection. To think that just weeks ago he was despairing over his impossible dreams, waiting for the production of Don Juan to begin…

“Erik?”

“Hm?”

“I was wondering if you happened to retrieve that Red Death costume from your home…”

This question caught him off guard, but he answered her inquiry without hesitation, curious to hear the reason behind it.

 “Yes, actually. Why do you ask?”

She didn’t say anything for a moment, so he turned in her arms to face her. He reached up to brush her cheek with the back of his fingers, content to wait her out. She wouldn’t meet his eyes.
Christine buried her head in his chest before finally mumbling “I just really liked it, that’s all.”

She liked it? Erik had brought the outfit along on a whim, not really wanting to leave it behind, but he definitely had not expected this. The night he had worn it, she was happily dancing with her then-fiancé at the Bal Masque- the annual Masquerade ball held at the Opera Populaire. She hadn’t seen him for three months and seemed blissfully content with that fact at the time. Her surprise at his sudden entrance was evident, and he had thought that his raging interruption had ruined the night for her. But then he remembered the way she had gazed at him as they slowly stepped towards one another on the stairs…Now of course, because he knew her feelings, that brief encounter was a little less mysterious.

But still he did not expect her…preference for the costume.

She could feel the rumble of his laughter against her cheek. “Well, I’ll be sure to wear it as often as possible, if that would make you happy.”

“Not too often; wouldn’t want to lose the novelty of it.” Her grin was mischievous as she pulled away.

XxxX

The wind was refreshing on her face, even though her back and legs were already sore. Christine was not used to the bouncing gait of a horse and was decidedly uncomfortable as they rode. She didn’t complain, though, as she knew the ride would only take a few hours. Besides, she and Cesar were becoming fast friends and she did not want to offend him by voicing her discomfort.

She was, however, enjoying the feel of being held so tightly against her angel’s chest, and soon drifted off to sleep within the warmth of his arms. When she awoke, Cesar’s graceful sprint had slowed to a trot and the sun was beginning to set behind the trees. A small town could be seen in the distance.

XxxX

Erik brought the horse to a stop and sighed as he watched some of the residents of Boscherville returning to their homes for the night. “I never thought I would return to this place.”

Christine’s silence showed that she wasn’t sure how to respond, so she simply twisted around to give him a kiss on the cheek in support. His face lifted into a tight smile in return before he looked away once more. He didn’t want her to see the emotion raging in his eyes.

I never thought I would return… Even as he spoke the words he knew they weren’t entirely true. For the past few months, some sort of force had been pulling him back to this dreaded town. He didn’t really understand it, nor did he want to. This and his fevered obsession with finishing Don Juan had kept him from investigating further. He had simply pushed it to the back of his mind.

He knew that had Christine stayed with the fop, thus prompting him to leave France altogether, he would have passed through Boscherville as he left; if only to satisfy his curiosity. Now that he was here, within sight of the place that had scorned him so long ago, the magnetism was even stronger. Troubled by this sensation, he nevertheless tried to keep his calm façade as he urged Cesar on.

They rode around the perimeter of the town to a small house on the outskirts, hidden in the beginnings of the forest. Erik lifted Christine down from the horse’s back and led her to the front door. He didn’t bother tying Cesar up as he knew the stallion would not wander off.

Christine watched his face anxiously as he reached to knock; hoping the silent mood he had settled into would pass. There was no answer from within the house.

Erik nodded to himself; apparently he was just trying to confirm what he already knew to be true- no one lived here any longer.

Without hesitation, Erik twisted the knob and the door opened easily. “Christine…this is where I grew up.” He took her hand and led her inside. She couldn’t help admiring the place. It was simple, yet beautiful, but it was obvious that it hadn’t been lived in for years. A fine layer of dust coated everything inside.

His expression was unreadable as he glanced about and spoke softly, so as not to disturb whatever ghosts might have been left behind. “We will stay here until our new house is completed.”

XxxX

New house? Her pulse quickened in surprise and anticipation even as her muddled brain tried to process the news.

Erik had obviously heard her sharp intake of breath and smirked at her expression.

“You…you’re building us a house?”

“Well, yes. Not personally, of course- although I could. But I did design it. I’ve actually had this particular schematic in mind for quite some time, and it’s been through many revisions over the years. It’s being built at the outskirts of a small town between Paris and Versailles, somewhere that no one will recognize us and we can start over.”

She was completely speechless. How? How did he plan this without her knowing? When had he talked to an architect and builders? The timing made no sense, but she didn’t want to question him. He had always been mysterious, why start worrying about it now?

Unable to express her delight, she instead threw her arms around his neck and planted little kisses wherever she could reach as he lifted her off the floor. Everything was going to be perfect. She just couldn’t wait to start this new adventure with him.

After a moment, he set her back on her feet but kept her hands in his warm grasp. “There is a priest here- Father Mansart- he knew me when I was a child. If he is still here, I’m sure I can convince him to marry us. As I recall, he was fond of me…or maybe he merely tolerated me, I can’t be sure. I was, after all, a right terror towards him.” Christine enjoyed these little glimpses into his past. He never seemed willing to come right out and tell her what had happened to him over the years, so brief stories like this one were all she had to go on.

“Would you like to accompany me to the parish? I was hoping to find him tonight to discuss our plans.”

Christine nodded eagerly. Staying in this unknown, yet nice, house alone was not an idea she was willing to entertain. She wanted to stay with Erik, even if that meant walking around a strange town and possibly being stared at.

“Alright. I’ll unload our belongings and we can go into town before it gets too dark.”

XxxX

The last of the gas lanterns along the roads were just being lit as Erik and Christine strolled along. The sun seemed reluctant to release its last grip on the horizon and a faint orange glow could still be seen through the trees.

Erik had wrapped himself and his fiancé- Fiancé! The word gave him a thrill just to think about- in their cloaks and he had donned a wide-brimmed hat to conceal his mask. Even so, they kept to the shadows cast by the buildings lining the sidewalk. So far, the few townspeople still out and about paid little mind to the couple.

Erik was telling Christine a few precious details about his childhood- about Father Mansart’s somewhat awkward friendship and what he had taught him- trying to stem the flood of questions she never ceased to throw at him. He was attempting to shield her from the horror his life had been, and here she was trying her best to undermine him! Even so, he couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed with her. She was happy, and they were enjoying a nice walk through town, her hands wrapped possessively around his arm. It was nice to feel like a normal man for once in his life.

“I haven’t thought about it for years, but he is actually my namesake.”

“Really? Was he a close friend of your parents before you were born? Is he your godfather?”

Godfathers were a Christian tradition, and this town was strictly Catholic, but he didn’t correct her. She was fishing for details, he could tell. Her enthusiasm to know everything about him would be endearing if he had a more…safe life to tell her about. With a sigh he answered her anyway.

“No…he was just there when I was born and my mother refused to name me. She told the man to name me after himself…”

Just a slight picture of the woman who raised him, nothing like the other horrid stories he could tell of her, but even so Christine looked devastated. He knew she wouldn’t be able to handle anything more morbid. Stories of Persia were out of the question, it seemed.

 “I’m sorry, Erik.”

He just shrugged. Any hurt his so-called mother had caused him, along with the hurts from the rest of his life, faded more with every day of happiness Christine brought him.

They had just reached the end of the street and were nearing the door of Le église de Saint-Jude when a woman came running up from across the way. “Excuse me, but I must speak to the priest at once!”

Erik pulled Christine back and opened the door to let the woman pass, as she seemed to be in a great hurry. As she stepped inside, she turned back. “Thank y-“

Her eyes went wide and she stared at them. “No. It can’t be…how? That…that’s impossible!”

Erik realized that the dim light from within the small church was illuminating them, making his mask visible to the woman. His brow furrowed as he contemplated the possible outcomes of this situation. “I’m sorry, Madame, but do I know you?”

“E-Erik? Erik is that really you?”

His glance darted to Christine in shock and a hint of fear. How did this woman know his name? He was reluctant to say anything at all until he knew who this woman was, so he simply watched the emotions flicker over her face, hoping she would introduce herself. He saw sadness, to be certain. A hint of pity- that thrice damned feeling he had no interest in receiving- surprise, and…hope? Why would she be hoping to see him? What had he ever done to inspire that in her?

“I-I’m terribly sorry. How rude of me. My name is Madame Perrault…you knew me as Marie.”

Erik had always considered himself a very articulate man, regardless of being raised without learning strict manners. He considered it common sense, really. He always knew what to say in a polite manner, even if someone didn’t deserve it, and in several languages. He had found, however, that the more time he spent with people- people who enjoyed defying and flustering him at every turn- the more he would become very…inarticulate.

Being speechless was not something he enjoyed, and neither was stuttering, but that didn’t stop his mind and his words from failing him now.

“Marie…oh. Erm…it’s nice to see you again, I suppose. You look…well…?” His attempt at a compliment failed him, turning into a question as his rational mind resumed its duty and noticed that she did not, in fact, look well. Her graying hair was a mess about her face, there were bags under her eyes that only enhanced the wrinkles, and her clothes looked rumpled from several days’ wear. He was suddenly very curious to know what was going on that she needed the priest at this hour. He tried to push his questions aside and resume polite conversation.

“Christine, this is…a friend of my…my mother’s.” He winced slightly at some old memory and continued. “She was a sort of…au pair for me when I lived here.” Christine shock was still evident in her eyes even as the shy smile spread across her features and she reached to shake the woman’s hand in greeting.

“It’s nice to meet you, Madame.”

“Likewise…” she trailed off, obviously unsure if she should refer to her as Christine- an action that would be incredibly forward; but she also did not know whether to call her Madame or Mademoiselle.

An awkward silence descended before Marie remembered her purpose. “I’m sorry, but I really must bring the priest back with me. There’s not much time.”

Erik sensed an opportunity for more information and pounced. “If you don’t mind my asking, Madame, what exactly is happening? Why do you need the Prêtre?”

He watched as her eyes clouded over. She cleared her throat and shattered the fragile peace that had been blooming in his life.

“It’s your mother, Erik. She’s dying.”

Chapter 6---->