Chapter Twenty Seven || Promise Me
Mélodie
The clanging of metal objects and the squeaking of hardworking wheels coaxed me from my deep sleep. My wonderful deep sleep.
Muffled voices drifted over to wear I laid. They sounded hushed, excitedly talking about a woman who moved. Were they talking about me?
Where am I? Who is talking? What made my bed shift?
My eyes refused to acknowledge my body waking up. I tried to move, I tried to make a sound, but my brain seemed to be disconnected from the rest of my body. The fabric beneath my hands felt as rough as my dry throat. I managed to force my exhausted fingers to curl and investigate the unfamiliar bedding. The blanket was thin; more like a sheet than a blanket. Not that I mind in this stifling weather. A moment later, another hand came under mine and laced our fingers together. Despite being tired, I felt my lips twitch into a content smile. I remember someone entwining our fingers like this before; someone I had loved very dearly. Their hand felt soft, safe, familiar. Complacency washed over me and, without realizing it, I drifted off into another deep sleep.
Wonderful.... Deep.... Quiet.... Sleep....
~*~
The next thing that softly tugged me from my heavy sleep was a cry of a baby. No. Not a cry. More of a giggle. A cute, boisterous giggle.
My finger twitched against my side, the blanket softer than what I had felt before. Where am I now? Why can't I wake up? Fully wake up?
"And then the bad man said, 'Since neither of them are here, you can give them a message for me.' Bravery radiating off of his face, your Uncle Dantes brought his chin up and said, 'And what might that be?'"
That voice. I know that voice. That voice that haunted my dreams. That voice that I have longed to hear for so long.
"The bad man sneered, his teeth long and sharp. His eyes glowed red when he growled, 'This.' And then he jumped at your Uncle Dantes, knife in his hand and rage in his heart..."
Uncle Dantes? Knife?
Valentin...
I felt panic swell up inside me, only to be drowned out; extinguished by the darkness that dragged me back down into another long, peaceful sleep. Such wonderful, quiet sleep.
~*~
There were no voices. There were no nightmares. No blood. No lifeless children. No screams. Just darkness. Comforting darkness.
Sweat trickled down my brow, stopping at something wrapped around my head. I expanded my ribs, taking in a long, slow, deep breath. Regaining control of my limbs, I reached up and touched the cotton bandage that encircled my head, wincing once my fingertips made contact. I finally opened my crusty eyes, only to have them quickly shut again at the sight of the monstrous afternoon sunlight. After a moment, I forced them open once more; first the left, then the right. I squinted at the brightly lit room, the fuzzy view of the foreign place refusing to come into focus. I looked to the right side of my bed, spotting the blurry outline of a man sitting on it's edge. He sat with his back to me, hunched over an object in his arms, fully engrossed in whatever it was. I reached up and rubbed my eyes, desperate to find out exactly who was sitting beside me.
I wiggled my toes and stretched my fingers, willing the rest of my body to wake up. Gradually, one cell at a time, I felt feeling return to my body; the process as slow as the sun peaking over the horizon in the morning.
I could see the figure sitting there with more clarity now. But before eyesight could fully sharpen, my ears woke up from their deadly sleep. The man's soft, enchanting voice entered my ears, quenching the thirst of my soul. I took in another deep breath, much like a woman who has wandered years searching for a spring in a hot desert and has now finally found one; the refreshing water cleansing my system of the toxic waste that had been eating away at me for centuries. The voice brought me back to life, my senses alert at last and desperately trying to reach out to the man with the voice. Every inch of my being reached out to him, craving him, needing him, wanting him. And when he stopped - I could almost feel my soul sink back into the dusty bowl it had been dwelling in for so long.
In the wake of this voice, I heard a baby giggle; that same cute, boisterous giggle. I stared longingly at the man as he, too, laughed; the bed moving along with the shake of his shoulders. My fingertips brushed against the fabric of his trousers, still not quite able to touch him. I licked my cracked lips, trying to moisten my dry mouth. I attempted to speak, the sound wavering, croaking as it escaped my unused throat, "Erik?"
The man whipped around, the sunlight catching on his white mask. Now that he was facing me, I could see what had succeeded so well in capturing his attention; in his arms is our daughter. Our little daughter. Her bright eyes stared up at Erik with wonder and joy; her long fingers playing with the buttons on his vest. Our little baby girl.
I looked up from our precious daughter, catching Erik's green eyes that were wide, like he wasn't sure if he had actually heard me call his name. Once he saw that the sound of his name left my lips, an equally wide smile spread across his face, his eyes now filling with joy, relief, and tears. A second later, he surged forward, leaning down to press his lips to mine. I melted into that kiss, our baby pressed between us just like she had been before she was born. I have missed these lips. I have missed their taste. I have missed their feel. I have missed him.
I reluctantly pulled back, only to have the gap closed again by Erik's mouth. I reached up and held both sides of his face, my right hand touching flesh and my left touching porcelain. A tearful smile spread across my face as I savored the feeling of his lips on mine; a sensation I had been craving and dreaming about for months. Both of our tears mixed on my cheeks before sliding down to my chin and dropping to my breast. Eventually he pulled back and rested his forehead against mine, the tips of our noses repeating what our lips had just done.
I peeled off his mask, placing it on the pillow beside me before caressing the side of his face I just exposed. My thumb traced the part under his right eye that drooped down, the tip of my finger catching the tear that had been forming and causing it to slide down my hand to my wrist. He leaned into my hand, his eyes fluttering shut and pushing more tears out onto his cheeks. When he opened them, the wetness of his tears made his eyes shine even more like emeralds; emeralds wet with rain. How I have missed these gems masquerading as my shadow's eyes. Those piercing green eyes that stare straight into my soul. Those green eyes that have illuminated my dark dreams since I was a child.
Those green eyes.
Like a bolt of lighting struck me, I sat up straighter on my mountain of pillows, the terror returning and raising my voice, "Gustave! What happened to Gustave?!"
Our baby still securely nestled in his strong arm, Erik scooted closer and rested his right hand beside my neck, his thumb caressing my jawbone, "He's alright. They got him to the hospital in time." His thumb continued to run up and down the corner of my jaw, stopping momentarily just by my ear. He repeated with a small smile, "He's alright."
I relaxed, relief easing the tension in my weary body. Sinking back into the pillows, I stared up at my husband, my wobbling voice thick with the helpless tears that formed in my pleading eyes, "Erik, I swear it wasn't me. I would never - could never - hurt Gustave -"
He stopped me by pressing his forehead to mine once more, his eyes shutting tight and his hand holding me close, "I know. I know you wouldn't. I'm sorry I even assumed that." He pulled back far enough to look in my eyes, "Dantes found Valentin and-"
My eyes grew wide and I once again shot up into a sitting position, "Valentin! What happened to Valentin?!" I remember now. I remember fighting Valentin. I remember feeling the blade cut into my dress and penetrating my flesh. I remember gaining that very knife from my attacker and thrusting it towards him; that nauseating feeling of the knife sinking into his side and stopping once it hit bone. "Erik," I grabbed him by the shoulders to look him straight in the face, "Valentin is insane. Erik," my throat began to close off from the horror the memory created, "he had a knife and he put it in poor Gust-"
Erik silenced me by speaking my name. He waited a moment before telling me, "Valentin is in jail."
My grip on his shoulders loosened, my tight face unwinding. Then, remembering the voice I had heard while I was asleep, I quickly asked, "And Dantes? Dantes found Valentin? What about Dantes? Is he hurt? Did Valentin hurt him?"
My whirlwind of questions faded away at the sight of Erik shaking his head. When I had stopped, his lips pulled up into a tiny smile, "Dantes is alright. Valentin came at him with a knife but Maurice arrived in time to aid Dantes in fighting Valentin. Dantes and Maurice received nothing more than a few cuts and bruises."
A large breath that I hadn't noticed I was keeping suddenly escaped me in another large wave of relief. I sunk once more into my mound of pillows, sighing and opening my eyes to return Erik's grin. My eyes drifted to the tiny human in his arms. Sitting up again, I bit my lip and shyly peered up at Erik, "May I hold her?"
The bed shook again with his laugh, "Why do you need permission? You're her mother."
I giggled and tugged on one of my curls to hide my blush, "Je ne sais pas (I don't know)."
Repositioning our daughter so he could hand her over to me, Erik smiled, "She's been asking for you."
Carefully and nervously, I cradled my baby in my arms. I stared down at my little girl, feeling both honored and unworthy of this precious little angel. With wide, wonder filled eyes, I asked, "She has?"
I felt Erik's finger trace the side of my face and travel around my ear, "Yes, she has." His voice dropped, coming out soft and low, a mere whisper, "We both have."
Tearing my eyes away from my daughter, I raised my gaze to meet my husband's; the warmth in my chest creating a minuscule smile on my lips. The tips of his fingers fluttered over my cheek and across my lips before he leaned down and kissed where his fingers had just been. When he pulled back, both of us dropped our eyes to our child in my arms, a smile of pure adoration adorning both of our faces.
Our little girl. Our little angel.
This is my first time seeing her - really seeing her - and she is as gorgeous as I told you she would be. I lightly traced her face with the tip of my finger, her flawless ivory skin feeling as soft as satin. I ran my thumb over her bottom lip, it's color as red as cherries. Her big eyes stared up at her parents, the swirl of electric green in the middle of her light brown irises making them sparkle like gems. Erik reached up and ran his long fingers through her thick mop of loose curls; a perfect balance between my tight curls and Erik's straight hair. The color is so brown you have to look twice to realize it wasn't black. But she has those auburn streaks in it when the sunlight hits her hair. Just like her mother. Me, her mother. Can you believe it? Can you believe Erik and I created such a perfect little girl?
As I continued to take in every detail of our baby, Nana's words drifted back to me, "The women in this country say that babies take after the parent who is loved the most."
I tilted my head and chewed on my lips as I tried to figure out who our baby looked like the most; Erik or me. I was almost certain I would discover that she looked more like Erik; that if I covered the right side of her face she would like just like her father. But the more I looked, the more I studied, the more I realized that she was the perfect combination of both Erik and me, like an equal amount of ingredients had gone into the same bowl to create the perfect dessert. I know now that those ingredients were the equal amount of love put into one perfect child, our child. That realization brought a smile to my face and a blissful glow in my chest.
Erik played with our baby's long fingers, his breath warm on my cheek when he asked, "Have you named her yet?"
Memories of our baby name escapades came back to me, smothering the happy radiance in my chest and filling it with a longing sort of melancholy. Erik and I didn't get to experience what other couples experienced when they were expecting a child; their firstborn. Well, in our case, my firstborn. We had spent the rest of my pregnancy apart; a whole ocean away from each other. Hardly romantic and...hardly what we both imagined it would be like. Or, what I imagined my first pregnancy would be like when I myself was a child and found myself daydreaming about what being married would be like. Not that I did that often, or that I really yearned for such things as marriage and a family. But when I did...
Tracing my daughter's bottom lip, I remembered the name we had settled on so long ago. Gently caressing her cheek with the back of my index finger, I whispered, "Aria." She wiggled and giggled at the sound of her name. Holding her little hand between my index finger and my thumb I giggled along with her, "Aria Ariel Destler." She cooed and brought my finger to her mouth, gently sucking on it's tip.
Then, gradually, ever so slowly, her eyelids began to droop, the excitement of seeing her parents finally taking it's toll on her. I could see her fight to keep them open, desperately wanting to stay awake and watch the two voices she had heard from inside my womb, the two voices that eased her restlessness time and time again. But, despite her stubborn struggles, her eyelids betrayed her by closing over her captivating eyes, her thick eyelashes creating crescent shapes on her milky cheeks.
Erik carefully took her from my arms, both of us not wanting to drop her or disturb her peaceful sleep. With soft footsteps, he brought her to her crib, gently placing her inside and snuggling her teddy bear close to her to protect her in her dreams.
Watching Erik with our baby, I felt a twinge of sorrow pull at my heart. I had been dreaming about this day since I discovered I was pregnant. I had even drawn pictures of Erik with our child, impatient to see him with our little bundle of love. And now, now that I have seen it, it only reminded me that we weren't Erik's only family. And, that that other family may be adding another member to it very soon.
I took in a shaky breath, trying to draw strength from the air before I asked, "Is Christine having your child, Erik?"
Erik froze, his body still hunched over the cradle. His face appeared over the top of the railing, his eyebrows closely knit together, "What?"
I lowered my eyes to my lap and played with my fingers to distract myself from crying, "I know Christine is pregnant. And I know she and Raoul haven't been able to conceive a child, except for Gustave. Only Gustave isn't Raoul's son." I licked my lips and met his gaze, "He's yours."
There was a long, taught silence that stretched between us like a tight wire. The quiet was similar to a crowd watching an acrobat who was now walking across that very wire thirty feet in the air; too afraid to breath incase that small gust of air would blow him from that thin line and cause him to plummet to the circus ring below him.
Erik straightened himself, his long legs gracefully bringing him over to me. He spoke slow, making sure I heard every word, helplessness making his voice sound small, "Mélodie, I never slept with Christine."
My voice cracked with the strain of the disbelieving tears that boiled up, "Did you not?"
"No, I didn't!" The bed dipped under his weight when sat beside me, leaning over my legs to try to meet my averted gaze, "She tried to bed me but I couldn't do it! I couldn't bring myself to betraying you like that!"
I snapped my head around to look at him, the quick movement making my tears spill over, "Then why are you selling our house?!"
"Because I don't want it! I want you! I am not happy unless I have you!"
Aria whined, protesting to the noise like she had done before she was born. Sniffling and wiping my face, I continued with a lower voice, "Erik, you love that house. You wouldn't start selling everything within it unless you were planning to run away with Christine and Gustave."
Erik drew back like my words were physically painful to him, "Is that what you thought?" I only stared at him, wishing that I weren't crying so I could still have some dignity. He looked at me long and hard before saying, "I'm selling that house because I love you. You, Mélodie!" When I turned away again he grabbed my hands, the firm and sincere grip begging me to listen to him, "I love you, Mélodie!" His voice shook this time, one of his tears falling from his chin and landing on our joined hands. When I said nothing again, he continued, "I know you weren't happy in that house. I see that now. Mélodie," he ran his thumbs over the backs of my hands, his right thumb drifting to my bare ring finger, "I don't want that house if it means I can't have you."
I gently pulled my hands from his, wiping my face and pushing my hair away with one furious swipe, "Erik, I know that you have wanted a normal life since you were a child. You shouldn't give that up for me."
"Mélodie, you are my life. I don't need that house to make me feel important and accepted. I need you and you alone." His green eyes shifted over my face, searching for a break in the ice so he could finally escape the cold waters that consumed him. Sighing heavily, he looked over his shoulder, watching our sleeping baby through the openings in her crib. He spoke quietly, his hands on his thighs, "I told you I wanted to be able to give our child what my father never gave me. For a long time I thought that houses and fancy parties were what he deprived me of, but I was wrong. What he never gave me was love."
Another silence followed, only to be broken by the sound of my attempt to breath in through my stuffy nose, "You said you wanted a son to grow up amongst aristocrats."
He faced me again, staring at my downcast eyes, "My son is, just not with me as his father."
I played with the edge of the sheet that was pulled up over my lap, the wad of cotton on my hip bulging beneath the fabric. My eyes still trained on my lap, I licked my lips and asked, "Does he know that you are his father?"
Erik dropped his gaze for a moment before returning it to me, "No. He doesn't need to know."
I attempted to meet his eyes but failed, suddenly feeling guilty for taking Erik from his son, "They are your family, Erik."
"No, Mélodie, you are my family. You and Aria. Gustave is my son but Raoul is his father. Why change that now?" He scooted closer to me, his hands running down his thighs like he was about to reach out and touch me but he stopped, like he wasn't sure the contact would be wanted. I watched his hands, almost willing them to come over and touch me, to hold me, to caress me like they have done so many times before. Then, as if he could read my mind, he cautiously reached over, carefully taking my hands in his like they would evaporate if his movements weren't gentle enough. Giving them a tender squeeze, he stared deep into my eyes and repeated, "I never slept with Christine. The only person my heart belongs to is you. Every part of my existence," he brought my fingers to his lips, placing kisses into each rise and fall of my knuckles before staring over the tops of my hands and finishing, "belongs to you." He had said and done the same thing the night we got married. Minus the part about Christine, of course.
I trailed my eyes up my arm, wishing my lips could be as close to Erik's mouth as my fingers were at this moment. A smile spread across his lips when my eyes met his and my own lips reluctantly turned up into a shy smile, "What about Aria?"
A bigger smile beamed off of Erik's face and he laced our fingers together, "Okay, you and Aria."
Laughing lightly I pulled him close, burying my face into his neck. His arms encircled me, making me feel warm and safe; a feeling I haven't felt in months. I inhaled deeply, filling my senses with his scent of roses and parchment, finally quenching my longing. Nuzzling deeper into his neck, I whispered, "I have missed you so much."
Erik held me tighter, nearly lifting me off of the bed, "Not nearly as much as I have missed you." He placed a kiss deep into my neck before pulling back, his hands cupping my cheeks. His thumb traced the edge of the bandage around part of my head, "Does it hurt?"
My hand flew up to where he was touching, my brows coming close together. I almost forgot about it. Feeling the thick wad of cotton on the side of my head I asked, "What happened?"
Erik trailed his hand down my other arm and laced our fingers together again, "You had a lot of scar tissue where you hit your head the night Valentin came to kill me. It was blocking off circulation and creating a lot of pressure. That's why you were having headaches and...and those nightmares." His eyes drifted down as he remembered the nights I had waken him up by tossing in my sleep, the frightening images making me scream and sweat. He played with my fingers, his eyes guarded and still facing downward, "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" He sounded hurt; hurt that I would keep such a severe problem hidden from him.
I dropped my hand from my head and placed it over his, my words rushing out to soothe his ache, "I didn't think it was that bad. The pain had only become unbearable recently."
"I'm your husband, Mélodie. You should have told me about it, no matter how mild you thought it was." His brows furrowed now, his eyes still downcast due to barely contained frustration, "I told you to see a doctor months ago."
"I know, darling. I'm sorry." I turned over the hand he had been playing with and held his hand between both of mine, leaning forward in attempt to meet his gaze, "If I'm not feeling well I won't keep it from you again." When he didn't look up, I brought his hand to my lips and pressed a long kiss onto the backs of his fingers, peering over the top as I said, "I promise."
Slowly, his green eyes slid up to meet mine, the corners of his mouth lifting into a tiny smile. His hand that was by my mouth held my jaw, his finger tracing my bottom lip. He kissed me again, his lips gently moving against mine, caressing me, tasting me, loving me. When he disconnected our lips, he rested his forehead against mine, his mischievous eyes twinkling just an inch or two away from me, "I am going to get you a glass of water and some food. One more day without nutrition and you'll look like a walking skeleton. And, if you don't eat," He lowered his voice, a playful smirk tugging at his lips, "I will make you eat."
Ah, how the tables turn. If he is as stubborn as me - which I know he is, if not more - I know it will be no use to resist. From the twist of my empty stomach, I don't think I want to resist.
Giggling, I poked Erik in the stomach and said, "If I end up looking like a walking skeleton, I'd look like you."
He fake cringed and rubbed where I had poked him, "Do not be disrespectful, child."
I laughed louder this time, the act becoming as natural as it had been before, "You can't call me 'child' now that we have a child of our own."
His eyes became half hooded, a soft, loving smile forming on his face, "You're right, that makes me sound like some sort of pedophile." He chuckled at my laugh, tracing the side of my face as he did so. "I've made a woman out of you, haven't I?"
Holding back another giggle I countered, "Was I a boy before?
He feigned a serious and disgusted expression, "I certainly hope not."
I giggled again, grabbing his face and bringing him close to peck his lips, "I'm hungry, Monsieur Opera Ghost."
A dark smile spread across Erik's face and he began placing kisses along my neck, "I'm glad to hear that."
Rolling my eyes and holding down a giggle, I lightly pushed against his chest, "Hungry for food, Erik!"
He sat back, a lazy grin on his face, "Alright, alright." He brought my hand up to kiss it again before grabbing his mask and placing it back on his face, "Soup it is then. I hope you like tomatoes." At the sound of my words on Erik's lips I smiled. We have come a long way since that night in the Opéra Populaire's kitchen, haven't we.
When Erik stood from the bed, I kept my hold on his hand, not wanting him to leave just yet. He smiled down at me, the same thought going through his head. But, at the sound of my stomach growling, I knew I couldn't keep him here much longer. So, with another kiss, he walked out of my room, looking back at me after every other step, like each time he looked away made the pain of missing me too much for him to bear.
Now alone - save for my sleeping baby in her crib - I took in my surroundings. The sunlight from the open window caught on the dust particles floating around my temporary room in the Vallette's townhouse. On the little, round table by the window, I saw my bouquet of roses sitting in a vase, the black ribbon still holding them all together. Another warm smile spread across my face at the sight of all my roses from Erik. Beside me on my nightstand was another bouquet of roses, the petals on these fresh and dark red. I brought the bouquet to my nose and filled my lungs with their scent, the smile on my face so wide it nearly hurt.
Setting the roses from Erik back on the nightstand, I pushed away the sheets and swung my legs over the side of the bed. I waited a moment, frightened for what might come next. Then, I carefully stood, pausing again to wait for my head to throb like it had before. But it didn't. My lips turned up into smile again, my fingers gently touching the spot where I had fallen last New Years Eve.
No more pain. No more voices. No more nightmares.
I took two wobbly steps over to Aria's cradle and smiled down at her, watching her wiggle in her sleep. I placed a kiss on the tips of my fingers and leaned down to press the kiss to her forehead, brushing a strand of hair away as I did so. My hand lingering on her cradle's railing, I turned away, keeping my eyes on her for as long as I could before I made my way out of my room.
In the hallway, I kept close to the wall incase I needed something to lean against as I shuffled down the quiet hall. Coming to my brother's half open door I stopped, leaning closer to better hear the voices inside.
"Are you sure you're alright? Do you need anything else?"
I heard the smile in Dantes' voice, "Fleur, you have done so much already. I assure you I am alright now."
Through the crack in the door, I could see Dantes sitting on the bed with his back against the headboard. On his left cheekbone, he had a prominent bruise and a few other minor cuts along his chin, but no other major or obvious injuries.
Sitting close to him on his bed, much like Erik had done with me, was Fleur. She held Dantes' hand and brought it to her cheek, her expression as concerned as her voice, "I was so worried-" Her shaky, delicate voice trailed off and she leaned against his hand that now held her cheek.
With his other hand, Dantes took a lock of her blonde hair and ran it through his fingers, "You needn't worry. It's all over now."
Smiling, I quietly walked passed his room undetected, elated for my baby brother.
He loves Fleur. I could see that the moment he laid eyes on her. I'm glad that he can now share that love with the woman of his dreams.
Speaking of people in your dreams...
My bare feet made no sound as I walked into the kitchen. The moment I saw Erik standing at the counter with his back to me, making my lunch, my chest involuntarily swelled, the happiness and pure love filling my soul and making me whole.
Erik. My Erik. My shadow. The man in my dreams. The voice in my head. The love of my life.
Walking up from behind, I wrapped my arms around his torso and pressed my cheek against his back, unable to stop the content smile that escaped me.
Surprised, Erik jumped slightly at the arms wrapped around his waist. He twisted to peer over his shoulder, "Mélodie?"
My name on his lips made my eyelids flutter shut, "Yes, mon ange (my angel)?"
Placing his hands over mine he talked over his shoulder, "You're supposed to be in bed!"
Snuggling deeper into his back I hummed, "I couldn't stand being another minute away from you."
This time I allowed him to turn in my embrace. He knelt down and lifted me to his height, his sigh blowing against my cheek as he pressed his forehead to mine. After a long moment, he murmured, "Never leave me again."
Rubbing our noses together, I played with the ends of his hair, noticing how it had grown some since the last time I had seen him. Kissing his lips, I said against his mouth, "Never again, mon amour (my love)."
He stared up at me, his face serious and pleading, "Promise me?"
Running my fingers along the outline of his mask, I left a kiss on the cool porcelain and then on the other uncovered cheek. Closing the minuscule space between us, I whispered, "I promise."
We both kept that promise for the rest of our lives.
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Just two more chapters to go! *ugly sobbing*