A/N: Sorry again about the delay! But, well...school ^^;; Anyway, a bit of cuteness in this chapter, so smile and be happy :)
Chapter 12
About two weeks later, Christine was searching the house by the lake for Jeanne. Erik had gone out early, and she had decided the little house was in desperate need of cleaning. Not that it was disorganized, but her opinion of cleaning differed dramatically from Erik's. Christine, however, had lost track of time, and in the process, lost track of the baby.
She searched the little abode inside and out with no sign a Jeanne, and by the time Erik arrived back she was in complete hysterics.
"Christine, what's wrong?" Erik asked, removing his hat.
"J-jeanne! I can't find her!" Christine wailed.
"You...lost her? How? Where could she have possibly gone? Are you certain you've checked everywhere"
"Yes! Every room! I was cleaning, and...and..." She collapsed on the floor sobbing.
Erik was beginning to feel more than slightly panicked as to the whereabouts of the little girl, but he kept his voice even as he said, "Christine, stop that. You know it won't help. We'll find her; don't worry. She's probably just been moving a step ahead of you, that's all. You've probably past her a few times. You know how fast she can crawl, now." He gently pulled the still weeping young woman off the floor. "Christine, it'll be alright," he whispered, taking the bold action of embracing her softly.
"It's all my fault," she wept against his chest.
"Actually, Jeanne is quite an imp. We'll find her. Come on, now." He pushed her away delicately. "Ready?"
Tears still flowed freely from Christine's eyes, but she nodded resolutely. Suddenly, a horrified look overtook her features.
"What is it?" Erik asked.
"My God...the lake!" she cried.
Erik felt the blood drain from his face. "Christine...stay here; I'll check," he said, his voice quavering only a bit.
He as though he were walking through quicksand on his way out to the lake. He stopped at the lake's shore and peered across the dark, glossy water. Nothing. Nor was there a sign of any disturbance on the shore. He returned into the house and Christine rushed to meet him, looking for reassurance.
"She hasn't been out there," he said.
The relief on her face was apparent, but then she asked, "So...where is she?"
He sighed. "I haven't the faintest idea...you're sure you've searched every room?"
"Yes...well, except your room."
"Oh. Why didn't you look in there?"
"Because it's your room."
"Dear God, Christine! It's not like you'll be overtaken by the plague if you go in there!"
"Well...she never goes in there..."
"Yes, she does!" he snapped as he pushed open his door. He went to light a candle, but he nearly knocked it over when an exclamation of "peek-a-boo!" was issued from behind.
"Jeanne?" he demanded.
"No!" she greeted him cheerfully, sitting in his coffin with a look of smug satisfaction.
"Jeanne!" Christine cried with mortification at the somewhat morbid scene. "What are you doing in there?"
Jeanne continued to smile.
"How long have been in there?" Erik asked. "How did you even squirm into that?"
Jeanne babbled randomly.
"Don't you ever do this again, do you understand? You're not allowed in here unsupervised!" Erik reprimanded.
Jeanne pouted and looked up at him pitifully, with her round eyes appearing ten times bigger. "Ewik?" she whispered carefully, trying the word out.
Erik nearly fell over. "Y-you...you said my name?" he asked weakly.
"Aw...that's so cute!" Christine exclaimed.
Jeanne, realizing that any threat of punishment was over, repeated with more confidence, "Ewik!"
He tentatively picked her up; he hadn't held since she had cried two weeks ago. Jeanne babbled happily.
Christine admired the scene for a moment. She was still nervous about him being around the child, though she had relaxed of late. How he could be so easily moved by the child's unprejudiced affection astounded her, and yet she knew he still made rounds as the Opera Ghost, dictating his whims to the managers. Outside of the little house by the lake, he was still the menacing shadow laying over the Opera Garnier.
A few weeks later, Christine sat reading Jeanne a bedtime story while waiting for Erik to return from wherever he had gone. She had made a habit of never questioning his whereabouts; she considered it better not to know.
When Christine when sure the little girl was asleep, she tenderly placed her in her crib and returned to her seat on the couch. Where was he? It was past eight o'clock at night! She hated cooking this late. She lay down and contemplated her odd living arrangements for what seemed like the thousandth time. She was married...sort of. She was technically a mother, as she was raising Jeanne. She also felt numb to the world, as if she were simply going through the motions of livings. Somewhere during her musing, she fell into a light sleep.
"Christine."
The word had been said in a weary whisper, but Christine sat up quickly as though she had been startled. "Oh...Erik. What is it?" In the candlelight she noticed that his clothes were quite wet. "Is the weather that bad? How long were you out in it?"
He said nothing but instead pulled a newspaper out from under his cloak.
"Page three," he finally said after a quizzical stare from Christine.
She read the headline and stood up as she skimmed down the story. Her face paled, and she dropped the periodical. She glanced at Erik helplessly before fleeing to her bedroom and locking the door.
Chapter 12
About two weeks later, Christine was searching the house by the lake for Jeanne. Erik had gone out early, and she had decided the little house was in desperate need of cleaning. Not that it was disorganized, but her opinion of cleaning differed dramatically from Erik's. Christine, however, had lost track of time, and in the process, lost track of the baby.
She searched the little abode inside and out with no sign a Jeanne, and by the time Erik arrived back she was in complete hysterics.
"Christine, what's wrong?" Erik asked, removing his hat.
"J-jeanne! I can't find her!" Christine wailed.
"You...lost her? How? Where could she have possibly gone? Are you certain you've checked everywhere"
"Yes! Every room! I was cleaning, and...and..." She collapsed on the floor sobbing.
Erik was beginning to feel more than slightly panicked as to the whereabouts of the little girl, but he kept his voice even as he said, "Christine, stop that. You know it won't help. We'll find her; don't worry. She's probably just been moving a step ahead of you, that's all. You've probably past her a few times. You know how fast she can crawl, now." He gently pulled the still weeping young woman off the floor. "Christine, it'll be alright," he whispered, taking the bold action of embracing her softly.
"It's all my fault," she wept against his chest.
"Actually, Jeanne is quite an imp. We'll find her. Come on, now." He pushed her away delicately. "Ready?"
Tears still flowed freely from Christine's eyes, but she nodded resolutely. Suddenly, a horrified look overtook her features.
"What is it?" Erik asked.
"My God...the lake!" she cried.
Erik felt the blood drain from his face. "Christine...stay here; I'll check," he said, his voice quavering only a bit.
He as though he were walking through quicksand on his way out to the lake. He stopped at the lake's shore and peered across the dark, glossy water. Nothing. Nor was there a sign of any disturbance on the shore. He returned into the house and Christine rushed to meet him, looking for reassurance.
"She hasn't been out there," he said.
The relief on her face was apparent, but then she asked, "So...where is she?"
He sighed. "I haven't the faintest idea...you're sure you've searched every room?"
"Yes...well, except your room."
"Oh. Why didn't you look in there?"
"Because it's your room."
"Dear God, Christine! It's not like you'll be overtaken by the plague if you go in there!"
"Well...she never goes in there..."
"Yes, she does!" he snapped as he pushed open his door. He went to light a candle, but he nearly knocked it over when an exclamation of "peek-a-boo!" was issued from behind.
"Jeanne?" he demanded.
"No!" she greeted him cheerfully, sitting in his coffin with a look of smug satisfaction.
"Jeanne!" Christine cried with mortification at the somewhat morbid scene. "What are you doing in there?"
Jeanne continued to smile.
"How long have been in there?" Erik asked. "How did you even squirm into that?"
Jeanne babbled randomly.
"Don't you ever do this again, do you understand? You're not allowed in here unsupervised!" Erik reprimanded.
Jeanne pouted and looked up at him pitifully, with her round eyes appearing ten times bigger. "Ewik?" she whispered carefully, trying the word out.
Erik nearly fell over. "Y-you...you said my name?" he asked weakly.
"Aw...that's so cute!" Christine exclaimed.
Jeanne, realizing that any threat of punishment was over, repeated with more confidence, "Ewik!"
He tentatively picked her up; he hadn't held since she had cried two weeks ago. Jeanne babbled happily.
Christine admired the scene for a moment. She was still nervous about him being around the child, though she had relaxed of late. How he could be so easily moved by the child's unprejudiced affection astounded her, and yet she knew he still made rounds as the Opera Ghost, dictating his whims to the managers. Outside of the little house by the lake, he was still the menacing shadow laying over the Opera Garnier.
A few weeks later, Christine sat reading Jeanne a bedtime story while waiting for Erik to return from wherever he had gone. She had made a habit of never questioning his whereabouts; she considered it better not to know.
When Christine when sure the little girl was asleep, she tenderly placed her in her crib and returned to her seat on the couch. Where was he? It was past eight o'clock at night! She hated cooking this late. She lay down and contemplated her odd living arrangements for what seemed like the thousandth time. She was married...sort of. She was technically a mother, as she was raising Jeanne. She also felt numb to the world, as if she were simply going through the motions of livings. Somewhere during her musing, she fell into a light sleep.
"Christine."
The word had been said in a weary whisper, but Christine sat up quickly as though she had been startled. "Oh...Erik. What is it?" In the candlelight she noticed that his clothes were quite wet. "Is the weather that bad? How long were you out in it?"
He said nothing but instead pulled a newspaper out from under his cloak.
"Page three," he finally said after a quizzical stare from Christine.
She read the headline and stood up as she skimmed down the story. Her face paled, and she dropped the periodical. She glanced at Erik helplessly before fleeing to her bedroom and locking the door.