(A/N – This is the final chapter of "A Gift From the Past," but not the end of my telling of Erik and Christine's story. "The Gift of the Present" is in the works – in my mind, if not in writing just yet. A comfortable stopping point presented itself with this chapter. The new story will pick up where this leaves off. I want to thank everyone who has read this, my first attempt at fan fiction, and everyone who has written a review. Your words have been so encouraging.)
SUMMATION
With much grumbling and grousing by its wearer, that he was now practically naked to the world, Christine and Dr. Emile Gerard manage to remove Erik's waistcoat and cravat, leaving what remains of his shirt to cover his upper body. To quiet that complaint, Christine drapes the scarf from her costume over his shoulders. "There – better? You cannot be too injured to be acting such a brat."
Letting him know her deep relief that he was not gravely wounded would come later, once the necessities had been addressed. How her own heart nearly stopped when she saw him on the floor, his shirt covered in blood. How even that short period of time considering a life without him brought a depth of grief she never experienced, even with the death of her father. They would celebrate his life later, in private, in their own special way. For now, he must be dealt with like a spoiled child.
The towels that Nadir brought from her dressing room to clean the wound, replacing the makeshift bandage he initially used to bind the gunshot wound in Erik's upper right arm, are peeled away.
"Ouch," Erik cries out.
"The towels stuck a bit to the dried blood," Christine says. "You surprise me, you truly do, considering what you have suffered."
"It was the shock, I was not expecting the simple removal of a bandage to hurt."
From their uncomfortable positions on the floor of the stage left wings, Christine and the doctor exchange a look of exasperation as he attempts to treat the wound. The dark brown eyes twinkle, though, his white hair and the fine wrinkles framing those eyes, with deeper wrinkles etched alongside his mouth, suggest years of treating patients of all ages and genders, inuring him to most any complaint or behavior. "Men tend to be particularly sensitive to treatment – something to do with ego, I suspect."
"Harrumph," Erik grunts.
"You need to get up so we can move to a more suitable place for treatment," Christine says. "Besides, it is undignified."
Erik rests against her, refusing to get up and move to the dressing room. "This is my theater and I am not leaving this spot until I am certain everyone who needs to be cared for has been cared for," he insists.
"Then at least sit on a chair. The doctor needs to thoroughly clean and stitch the wound," Christine's tone as fierce as his. "You are in the way – sitting on the floor in the middle of a crime scene – it is dirty and people need to move past you to do their jobs."
"Madame, it is fine. M. Kahn did an exemplary job of stopping the bleeding. Overall, it is a relatively minor wound, just needing a bit of washing, disinfection and some stitching," Dr. Gerard says. "I can do that quite easily here."
"As the doctor says, you are just cranky because you were injured at all," Christine scolds as she drags a stool over for him to sit on. "Thank God it was not worse."
"If Nadir and that fool Raoul had not come running out the door before I could lasso the bastard, as was planned, I should be uninjured and perfectly fine," he grumbles as she and the doctor help him up.
"So I am a fool?" Nadir says, coming up behind them carrying the tray with the crystal decanter of Cognac and an assortment of small glasses.
"No, Raoul is the fool, you are just a…"
"A what?"
"A…good friend," Erik concludes observing the liquor.
"As are you – we are even." Nadir pours him two fingers into a snifter and hands it over to him before setting the tray down on a prop table. "What a mess," Erik sighs. "Offer the brandy to anyone who looks to need it. Is anyone else injured? How is Monique?"
"No one other than yourself, thankfully. It was a good plan, Erik. You could not anticipate how Robert would act, nor that he would be armed," Nadir reminds him. "Having everyone disperse after the rehearsal was wise – most everyone followed the order with the exception of our Meg."
"And my dear wife…ssss." He takes a sip of the brandy as the doctor inserts the needle for the first suture.
"Behave yourself and do not give the doctor any trouble," Christine orders.
"Where are you going?" Erik asks, grabbing her hand.
"To Monique. You asked how she was, so I plan to find out. I see two men and two girls over there looking like a statue scene," she tells him, squeezing and releasing his hand. "Give me a glass of the brandy, would you, Nadir?"
"You are not drinking?" Erik asks, concerned.
"No – although I wish I could. I am grateful you were injured for one reason alone – it got me past my personal distress."
Nadir hands her a whiskey taster glass. "Raoul looks like he might need a shot, too." He says as he pours another drink.
She takes both glasses, "Doctor?"
"I shall be there shortly, Madame, I am almost finished here," Dr. Gerard says.
There is some commotion at the stage door.
"It appears that the officials are arriving," he continues. "I may have to speak with the officer in charge, but shall join you as quickly as I can."
"Thank you," she says. "There are some other things I should like to discuss with you as well, once everyone is tended to here."
"Of course," Dr. Gerard replies, returning to his stitching of Erik's arm.
"Ouch!" Erik cries out again.
"Years of outrageous abuse and you cry like an infant over some minor stitching," Nadir laughs.
"Things are different now."
Christine recognizes Phillippe de Chagny, his slim, tall body, elegantly clothed as always in his preferred grey. Beside him is the police inspector she recalls from the premiere of Don Juan Triumphant. Following them are a number of officers, one carries a pallet for Robert's body. Giselle, boyish in her working clothes, and Henri, his round freckled face solemn in the presence of the police, bring up the rear.
Raising her hand to get Giselle's attention, Christine tips her head indicating she join her as she brings the drinks to Monique and Raoul. "Thank you for taking care of this errand," she says when the young woman catches up with her.
"I was happy to do so, Madame. My blood was rushing through me, I could not be still. It was a blessing to be able to have something useful to do," Giselle responds. "The drinks?"
"For Monique and Raoul – you would think he was either the attacked or the attacker from the looks of him – she appears to be in a trance," Christine says. "If you would care to imbibe, the decanter is over by Erik – Nadir brought several glasses. I would not blame you considering what you did to help save Erik."
They walk and talk.
"No, I am fine without the spirits," she replies. "I much prefer a sober mind. As for my actions, it was instinct – I knew the man with the gun would not hesitate to injure anyone he could. His first victims would have been M. Kahn and the Vicomte. Only M. Erik's actions prevented them from being shot."
"Indeed? Hmmm. In any event, you have my deepest thanks – if there is anything you need or wish for, you must tell me…us, you are forever in our debt."
"Thank you – that means so much to me. Right now I am happy to be employed with work I truly enjoy – I owe that to MMs. Erik and Nadir." Giselle replies. "Life being what it is, however, I am certain there will be a need sometime in the future." Giselle chuckles.
Christine laughs in return. "That is certainly true enough. May I ask, what did you tell Phillippe?"
"That there was a shooting and M. Robert was dead," Giselle tells her. "He told me that he would contact the police, to which I happily agreed."
"Did you tell him that Monique was the killer?"
"Yes, he asked if I knew and I did not want to offend him with a lie," she responds. "I also told him that he tried to kidnap you and shot M. Erik."
Christine nods.
"And that he attacked me."
Christine stops and faces the former ballerina – who uses her grace and agility now to walk the flies and occasionally climb down a rope to stop a killer. "And what did he say to all that?"
"He said he was sorry and he would provide whatever service he could," Giselle says. "I got the impression he felt somewhat responsible."
"Interesting. My instincts tell me that his brother is most likely responsible in some way. I am happy that he knows – that makes it much simpler for Erik and Nadir to explain all this to the police." She continues walking.
They reach the two couples. Monique is serene – her calm disquieting to the others who teem with unreleased tension. Raoul's face is full of anguish, his hands crush into one another. Darius is his strong soldier self, passive, but providing a quiet strength, a hand rests on Monique's shoulder, grounding her as if sensing she might disappear. Meg sits at her friend's feet, head in Monique's lap, face still wet with her earlier tears.
Raoul jumps up at Christine's approach, offering his place on the bench. His eyes are darker than she has ever seen them – even during the horror when he was trapped by the noose, or when he decided they should die together on the rooftop of the Garnier – a plea in them.
"What?" Christine asks him, handing him the brandy.
"I should never have brought her to the house. Phillippe said it was wrong, but I insisted she would be safer with me," he says, downing the liquor, coughing from the burn in his throat. "I showed her where I kept my gun. Then I left her alone in the house – a strange place. I lied to her." His tears begin to fall again. "Oh, Christine, I am such a fool."
"Yes, you are," Christine says. "Did she not tell you what happened with Robert?"
He shakes his head.
"Did you not ask?"
He shakes his head again.
"It was quite awful," she tells him. "I suspect that she was not quite recovered when you became…fond of her. Now is not the time to discuss it, though. She needs to be tended to. Your brother is here – perhaps it would be best if you went over to tell the police what you know."
Darius says, "I shall accompany him, Madame, I believe I should be available to answer some questions as well. It is best, perhaps, that you ladies attend to Mlle. Monique now."
After gliding his fingers along Meg's back, he puts his hand on Raoul's shoulder, directing their return to the scene of the death.
Meg watches them leave, then turns to Christine, about to burst with the need to speak. "Is Uncle Erik all right, Christine? I was so worried when Maman and I were coming down the hall and then I saw Darius and the body. It was…"
Christine cuts her off. "Yes, thanks be to God, the bullet hit him in the arm – a few inches…" She gathers herself. "The doctor is treating him. He will be fine." Sitting down on the bench next to Monique, she holds the glass of liquor to her lips. "Take a sip, dear, it will help you."
Monique pulls back at the strong taste of the cognac, the fragrance tickling her nose. "Oh, my," she says. "That is oddly terrible and good at the same time." Taking the glass from Christine, she sniffs again, then takes another sip. "I feel all warm inside."
"Have you never tasted cognac before?" Christine asks, smiling at her.
"No. My father disapproves of alcoholic drinks," she explains. "They are the brew of the devil," imitating his voice. Her eyes come to life again to take in the activity by the police, she watches as Raoul and Darius join Erik, Phillippe and Nadir speaking to another man. "What is happening?"
"You do not know?" Meg asks. "M. Robert showed up and was chasing Chris…"
Giselle presses her fingers into Meg's shoulder blade.
Christine shakes her head briskly at Meg. "There was an accident," she says quietly to Monique.
"Was someone hurt?" she asks. "Oh, there is a body. Is that a body?" She lifts herself from the bench to get a better view. "Who died?"
"M. Robert," Christine answers. "Erik was confronting him. He drew a gun. The two men struggled and the gun went off – twice."
"Is M. Erik all right?" Monique's arctic blue eyes grow wide with concern.
"Yes, dear, he is fine – a wound to his arm," Christine says, patting her knee.
"But the other bullet…"
"…killed M. Robert," Christine finishes the sentence. "He can no longer hurt you or anyone else."
Monique entire face brightens. "I should not be happy that he is dead, but I am. I am sorry that M. Erik was injured though."
Christine places her arm around her.
"I suppose there will be no rehearsal now. I was late. Raoul did not think there was a rehearsal today, but it appears that he was wrong. How sweet of him to follow me here, though. He had a meeting, so I walked." Looking around the area, she says. "I seem to have misplaced my bag. I feel so confused."
"I shall find it for you," Giselle offers. "I believe I see it over by the mirrors." Releasing Meg, content that the younger girl will keep quiet, she retrieves the pack and brings it over.
"Now that Monsieur…that man is no longer a threat, would you like to come back home with me and Maman?" Meg asks her. Looking at Christine for approval.
Christine smiles.
"Yes, I think that would be wonderful," Monique responds. "Raoul's house is very nice, but I miss being with you and Madame."
"Then it shall be done," Christine declares.
Erik completes his explanation of the plan put in place to capture Georges Robert.
"So you intended to entrap him?" Inspector Edouard Marquand inquires. The pouches under his hazel eyes are dark, giving him the appearance of a perpetual lack of sleep. Eschewing a uniform, he wears a rumpled Macintosh that defines his overall rumpled look from uncombed brown hair to unpolished brown boots.
"No, we intended to prevent him from committing a crime – abducting my wife and/or killing me," Erik snorts. "He has been stalking us for a number of weeks, and intimated his intentions to Mlle. Giselle Beauchamp, one of our employees, before assaulting her.
"There are other witnesses, Edouard," Nadir interjects. "The young woman who shot him was his victim. Another of our employees was abducted by him," he continues. "This exercise was not a whim, but a necessary plan to deal with an elusive predator."
"I shall vouch for what they say," Phillippe lends his voice to the argument. "My brother…"
"Ah, yes, your brother, he is involved in this as well?" Marquand says. His attention shifts to Darius and Raoul as they approach. "And here he is now."
Raoul pulls away from Darius and runs to Phillippe, wrapping his arms around his brother's waist. Phillippe stiffens at the embrace, rolling his eyes to the ceiling before embracing his sobbing brother, patting his head. "It is all right, Raoul. It will be all right." Nadir removes the taster from his hand.
"Help me stand, I feel like a dwarf sitting here with the rest of you standing around me."
"Well, you were beginning to look like an Indian mystic seeking to charm a snake." Nadir counters, taking the brandy snifter from him, adding it the tray with Raoul's empty glass.
"What do you mean mystic? Anyway, I have changed my mind."
Nadir and Dr. Gerard, help him to his feet. Straightening himself, dusting his pants with his good hand, he smooths his wig. Just becoming aware of Christine's scarf, he looks around for his jacket. "What is this?" he says, pulling the scarf from his shoulders – scowling at Nadir – the snake charmer reference comprehended. "Very amusing. Where is my coat?"
"It is ruined – you would not be able to put it on in any event." Nadir takes the shawl. "The scarf does give you a certain je ne se quoi."
Erik growls. "I should have let him shoot you."
Dr. Gerard fastens a sling for his injured arm by tearing one of the towels into strips. "You might want to replace this with something more suitable. It will help stabilize the wound and facilitate healing."
"Thank you, doctor," Erik says, holding his left hand out for the shawl. "I must cover myself with something, I suppose. This shirt is frightening what with all the blood."
"No, no. Here, take my jacket," Nadir says, removing his frock coat, draping it over Erik's shoulders. This will be fine for now," Nadir assures him. "I am certain that Christine will appreciate having her scarf back – it is getting chilly in here."
"I shall officially pronounce the assailant dead, Inspector," Dr. Gerard says, "allowing your men to remove the body. After which I should like to speak for a moment with Mlle. Du Bois, if you will excuse me."
Inspector Marquand nods allowing the doctor to pass, then turns back to Raoul. "I am curious as to your involvement in this," Marquand says.
"He had nothing to do with it," Erik says.
"I am surprised M. Saint-Rien – that is your name, correct – that you would defend him after what he had planned for you the last time I had the pleasure of visiting this glorious establishment."
"It is merely a fact," Erik says. "He acted as a look-out, as it were. He was familiar with M. Robert as an associate – a patron of the opera."
"And?"
"The young woman, Monique, is a…good friend," Raoul says.
"And?"
"My gun was used to kill M. Robert."
"Ah, so. And where might this gun be?"
Darius hands it to him.
"Nice." He feels the heft of the pistol, smells the muzzle and checks the cylinder for bullets. "Quality workmanship."
"If I may," Phillippe says, glaring at Raoul, "Mlle. Du Bois is a family friend, her father is the Baron Boisschut of Belgium. She was dancing with the ballet when M. Robert abducted her and held her for a number of months. When all of this…" he gesticulates… "was coming about, Raoul suggested she stay at our home. We were not entirely aware of how difficult her situation was in regard to M. Robert."
"She was dancing with the ballet – a member of Belgian nobility?"
"It was part of her schooling," he explains. "We were not even aware that she was here in the city, until just before this…incident."
Marquand rubs his face and shakes his head. "So what are you suggesting by all of this family friend business?" Waving his hands in the air, opening his arms, embracing the entire stage and auditorium. "With all of this abduction, kidnapping accusations, noble houses in two countries – not to mention the body of a man, apparently killed by one of his victims?"
Phillippe looks at Erik questioningly.
"Accidental death. A prop gun improperly loaded during a dress rehearsal for the grand revival of HANNIBAL?" Erik offers.
Marquand side-eyes the suggestion. "Was anyone else injured?"
"Just me, as I understand," Erik says, indicating his arm. "We fought for his gun, and it went off. I was trying to get up. As I understand it, he was aiming his gun at my head when Monique shot him." His amber eyes bore into the Inspector's. "M. Khan and Mlle. Beauchamp were attempting to stop him as well, but Monique guaranteed my sustained life with her excellent marksmanship."
"And Erik saved mine – in his attempt to stop M. Robert from shooting me and the vicomte," Nadir adds.
The eyes of five men focus on the Inspector, awaiting his determination.
"Fine. Fine," he says. "No love lost here for the man. Save the state some money for incarceration and trial. Any family that you are aware of?"
"No, none," Erik says. "I have reason to know this to be true. There is…was a personal history between us, that I only became aware of recently, that dates back to our childhood. A hostility that likely exacerbated his desire to harm my wife and myself."
Marquand raises an eyebrow. "And that would be?"
"Is this really necessary?" Erik asks.
The Inspector sighs, "I suppose not – accident it is. How many shots fired – by the young woman?"
"Six," Nadir replies. "She just stood and shot, continuing to pull the trigger even when the chambers were empty."
Marquand cringes. "Six accidental gunshots, hmmm." After close scrutiny of each man's face – all of them blank except for what he could only describe as entreaty in each pair of eyes, he sighs and says, "I shall advise Dr. Gerard – perhaps they can use his body at the hospital for research – give the grave robbers a night off." He pulls a cigar from his inside coat pocket and holds it up. "Is this allowed?"
"It is not advised, Edouard – too many flammables," Nadir tells him, indicating the scenery and drapes surrounding them.
"Then I shall just chew on it," Marquand says, sticking the stogie in his mouth. "Under other circumstances, I would speak to the young lady..."
He turns to look at the small gathering, catching Christine's eye.
A small frown wrinkles her brow, she tips her head toward Monique, looking down at the placid young woman then back at the Inspector, an eyebrow raised.
Pursing his lips, he gives a brief shake of his head before returning his attention to the men.
Christine offers a small smile, mouthing, "Thank you" to the Inspector.
Gerard continues with his decision, "…but, judging from what I can observe from where I am standing, she is in no condition to answer questions – too calm…shock perhaps – in any event, not likely to offer much information. Dr. Gerard can fill me in on what he discovers." With one more look around the backstage area, a few members of the crew revealing themselves, now that the emergency has passed, he says, "You can tell the press it was an accident. It should help your box office – I am sure your managers will be happy with that news."
The tension gripping Erik and the others, is released, nervous laughter and hesitant smiles break out on their faces. Marquand squelches an inclination to laugh. Schoolboys absolved of punishment for their naughtiness is the thought that crosses his mind. Civilians. Still the plan was quite clever – the villain definitely worthy of his ignominious end. Saint-Rien would be someone to keep in mind for future investigations – his connection to Nadir Khan a plus. Phantom of the Opera. Despite his resolve a chuckle escapes.
"Thank you, Edouard," Phillippe says, patting the policeman soundly on the back.
"I would be a very happy man if there could be no further events here requiring my presence," he says, handing the revolver to Phillippe. Turning on his heel, he leaves before becoming further victim of the men's gratitude.
"Thank you, Comte," Erik says – even he finds it difficult to contain a sense of joy over the Inspector's gracious attitude toward them, but most especially in regard to Monique.
"My feelings are much the same as the Inspector's, I must say," Phillippe says, pocketing the gun. His tone sardonic. "He was quite an evil man, it would seem."
"I would say that is an understatement," Nadir counsels.
"One, two, three" The counting of one of the policemen, followed by a pair of loud grunts, diverts their attention to the officers lifting M. Robert's body onto the pallet. Dr. Gerard glances over to them, before turning back and nodding his head as Marquand likely suggests the determination he should write in his report.
The Inspector follows the procession out the stage door, a wave of a hand over his head bids adieu to them.
"Yes," Erik says. "Someday we shall all have a conversation about it over a fine Armagnac. Our present concern must be directed towards Monique, I believe, now that we know there will be no more involvement with the police."
"I shall contact her father," Phillippe offers. "We are acquainted. Does he know any of this?"
"No, I do not believe so," Erik says. "Let us retire to our office," he nods toward Nadir. "We can fill you in on what she told us."
"I shall tell Adele, I am sure it is all she can do to keep from coming out here now to give orders – her attention is directed towards young Andre and keeping the managers at bay for the moment," Nadir says as he retrieves the tray with the decanter and glasses. "She will be able to tell you more about Monique than any of us men can say and, I am sure, will want…demand to be involved in any discussion of her future."
"I should like to understand her situation better," Raoul says. "Had I known more, perhaps some of this could have been avoided."
"I shall tell the ladies what is being planned," Darius offers. "It appears that the doctor is now speaking with Mme. Saint-Rien – I am certain she will have something to add." His eyes meet Erik's.
"Thank you, Darius," Erik says. "Is there somewhere else we can gather – our office is quite small?"
"The rehearsal hall would suit," Darius offers. "There is seating."
"Perfect," Erik says. "Let us gather there, then.
"I shall tell Madame the plans."
Walking briskly back to where Christine is meeting with Dr. Gerard, Darius informs her of what Erik and the others plan.
Christine shakes her head sharply. "No, no, no," she says. "Please escort the ladies to Madame Giry's apartment. I will take care of any explanations to them…" indicating the men with her chin.
"As you wish, Madame," Darius smiles broadly at her.
Holding her palm up to Dr. Gerard, she says, "Excuse me, doctor."
Calling out to the four men beginning their trek down the hallway, "Where are you going?"
Erik, Nadir, Phillippe and Raoul stop in their tracks and turn toward her.
"Erik, wait a moment for me." To Dr. Gerard, she says, "I…we shall come by your office tomorrow. Thank you for your time."
"My pleasure, Madame," he says. "This has been quite an eventful day for you."
"For all of us," she says. "Thank you for the suggestions in caring for Monique."
"It might be well if you were to bring her to the office as well, once she is more herself – whatever that might turn out to be."
"I shall do that," Christine tells him. "A demain."
"A demain." He tips his bowler hat and proceeds to the exit.
Christine gathers up her skirts and walks towards her husband.
"We thought we should discuss what might be needed to help Monique," Erik explains.
"You men?" Her tone containing not just a little annoyance.
"Well, not just us. Nadir is seeing to Adele…and you and Meg."
Behind them, Erick observes Darius ushering Meg, Monique and Giselle toward the stage door that Henri holds open. "I see," he chuckles.
"Where are they going?" Raoul says.
"They are taking her home," Christine tells him. "She needs to rest. That is what Dr. Gerard said. She is going to get a hot bath, fresh nightclothes, a bit of laudanum in her chamomile tea and then to bed."
"Her things are at our home," Raoul says.
"Some of her things – I doubt she brought all of her belongings with her. In any event, she needs to be somewhere she feels safe – that is with Meg and Madame, it was her choice when offered," Christine retorts. "Damn it. She just killed a man, an act she cannot recall – the man who raped her repeatedly and then beat her and threw her into the street."
Phillippe and Raoul both turn white, faces deadened with shock. Erik and Nadir take a step back, away from Christine's wrath.
"Oh, my God," Raoul gasps. "I had no idea."
"What did you think happened to her? That he took her to the sea for a rest – he chopped off her hair, for goodness sake – why did you think it was so short? Fashion? He was a madman." How did I ever think I loved this…this man?
The Comte holds his hand up to Raoul before he can say any more. "You are quite right, Mme. Saint-Rien. Mlle. Du Bois needs to be with her friends."
"I am her friend," Raoul insists. "I would never harm her."
Christine glares at him. "Raoul, . ."
A low growl emits from Erik's throat.
Phillippe takes the younger man by the arm. "Come, my brother. We shall contact her family. Her father needs to know what has happened."
"Her mother as well," Christine instructs. "She ran to Paris to escape her father, I would not count very much on his generosity of feeling towards her. She was fearful about telling him of the abduction."
"Still, he must know," Nadir interjects.
"Would you feel comfortable waiting a week or so, M. le Comte?" Erik asks, taking Christine's arm. "Do we know her age? If she is twenty-two, then he has no claim on her."
"He will likely be furious," Phillippe says, considering the suggestion. "Still, she deserves time. If their relationship is difficult, perhaps it is best to wait. Find out her age – I assume that is the age of consent for women?"
"Yes," Erik replies.
"Good, that will inform me as to the next step." To Raoul, "We shall gather her things, perhaps you can see her tomorrow?" He says more to Christine than Raoul.
"That will be fine, I believe," Christine says. "Tomorrow's rehearsal has been cancelled, I presume…"
Nadir nods. "I shall inform Adele that you will be visiting," Nadir says to Raoul, as he turns to leave. "She will be pleased Giselle is with her along with Meg and Darius. Time for all of us to go home."
"Christine…" Raoul starts to speak.
Erik visibly bristles – Christine squeezes the hand on her arm with hers. "Get some rest. You can see her tomorrow."
Phillippe leads him toward the stage door. "Come, let us leave these people in peace. I am certain that M. Saint-Rien would appreciate some rest for his injury and quiet time with his wife."
Erik nods at him. He and Christine watch them go.
"Finally," Erik says. "That leaves us, my dear."
"How is your arm?" she asks, as they walk toward her dressing room. She stops to pick up her scarf that Nadir left folded on a bench along with Erik's ruined frock coat, waistcoat and cravat.
"Let me see the coat."
"What?"
"My lasso – I had it out and do not see it lying anywhere."
Christine checks the pockets of the frock coat – she pulls out a thin wiry rope, with heavy metallic tags, wound into a circle. "This?"
"Yes," he takes it from her, tucking it into a pocket in his trousers.
"Interesting object," she comments. "I never thought I would ever say this, but I know that M. Robert would likely still be alive had you been able to use it."
"Perhaps not, the depth of Monique's pain cannot be overlooked." His mind takes him back to another time for a moment. Then he looks down at his wife, returning to the present. "You asked about my arm. I had actually forgotten about it. As you so wisely commented, I have suffered through more. I apologize for my childish behavior."
"Let us go home," she says, cuddling closer to him.
"What did you discuss with Dr. Gerard, if I may ask?"
"I told him that I believed that we were with child and that I wished to consult with him about what I should be doing," she says cautiously.
"Anything else?
"He wondered about you…about the mask…and the scars he was able to see."
"What did you say?"
"That you had a deformity and a…difficult past, but he needed to speak to you. I told him the decision to have a child was considered in light of everything." Stopping and turning to face him. "I made an appointment for us to see him tomorrow, if that is all right with you."
"Seeing a doctor would be a good idea for you, it would be wise, I believe, for that to be something to do for your entire term."
"What about you talking to him?"
"I suppose it would not hurt. Despite my own research, he may know of something new that would be useful – particularly in regard to the well-being of the child."
"You are not angry with me?"
"About caring for me and our child?" Erik pulls her even closer to him. "Never. As you told him, the decision was considered – perhaps not before there was the potential of a child, but it was a choice – our choice."
"Oh, I am so relieved. Hold me even closer, I shall never tire of feeling your body next to mine – so solid and firm – safe."
"A bit more worn and damaged."
"But alive. I am so deeply grateful for that."
"And I." He bends down to kiss her, savoring the taste of her sweet lips and breathing in the smell of her jasmine cologne – the cologne he chose for her, tinged with her musk and sweat, a faint reminder of her fear. The peace of their love embraces him. The promise of their future. Christine, I love you.
(To be continued…)