Bravissimo

Where do I go

Erik-

I hold onto my sleeping angel as Faicst looks her over for the fourth time this night. It has been a week since it has happened and Christine's coughing has come down, but only after it got much worse.

"Monsieur I see nothing, just like before. Like I said, give the singing a rest. Allow her to heal, or the bleeding will start again." Faicst says standing up while wiping off his hands. "Has she ever complained before about pain when singing?"

"Not once." I answer running my fingers through her hair. "Not ever."

"This is temporary Monsieur; she will return to herself once again." he says with a hand on my shoulder looking sternly into my eyes. "I am sure of it."

"Father, Ann Lee has come home and she's to retire soon. So sorry to disturb but you asked me tell you when she came back." Gustave says peaking his head through the door.

"Thank you, son just a moment." I say as I walk Faicst out to await a carriage. "I Thank you; Christine is everything to me." I explain gaining a grin in return.

"I understand." He answers, clearly thinking of Carlotta.

When I return, I see Gustave leaning on the armrest of the couch with a melancholy expression. How the boy loves his mother, and I have barley allowed him to see her in the past four days.

"Your mother will be alright Gustave. I had the doctor check many times; I promise you." I say squatting in front of him.

"Is she bleeding still?" he asks as he perks up just slightly.

"I'm afraid so, but not nearly as much. She needs to heal. And I cannot risk either of you catching whatever it is she has. You understand, yes?" I ask and he nods sadly. "Good lad, now where is your sister?" I ask and look over to the stairwell that leads up to their rooms, the candlelight beaming down them. I point up with a raised eyebrow and he nods. Of course, I've guessed correctly, it's been the same routine with her since the Opera.

"She does not like the press." Gustave says bluntly and I chuckle knowing she must have mumbled something awful about them under her breath near her brother.

"Up you go Gustave." I say with a pat on his back and he begrudgingly makes his way to bed. I follow him up the stairs and into the small living room that Annabel really only uses. The candles are now out and the only light comes from the moon shining through her bedroom window, the tree's branches casting eerie shadows. I see her silhouette sprawled out on her bed, the outcome of an exhausting day. Her papers neatly on the floor next to her, ready for the morning to come. On the top of those papers is the news article from America Darius was squawking about just last week, I raise my brow at it and turn around. I begin to close her door when I notice the lines on her wall have sprawled just slightly by a few lines. I squint as I almost recognize them, but it is as if it's not quite finished. I've seen the wall many times, only changing once and a while. I than see the door and the large crack down the middle, and I am reminded of when she cracked it and how alike we are, in good ways and bad.

"Father?" I hear a soft voice say and I grin as I look to her.

"Yes dear?" I answer and lean on the door frame.

"When it's over, what happens?" she asks though clearly still half asleep and unaware.

"I'm afraid I do not understand." I answer and cross my arms.

"The Opera, when it's over, what will happen? Where do I go?" she rephrases.

"We write new pieces and perform them. There will be no ending my dear." I answer a bit concerned. "Annabel?" I walk over to her bed and sit, and I can clearly see she has dozed back off. I pull her tired, limp body to me in a hug and kiss the side of her head. "And you'll stay here." I whisper and feel her soft curls just like her mother's on my hand.

I rock her for a bit, embracing this quiet moment I have with her even if she is asleep. Such odd things we say in our sleep, and even stranger the things we dream about. "You will stay with me, Annabel Lee."