At the Opera House

Chapter 8: An Empty Space

The Monday after the wedding, Christine went back to work, the lead female's ankle had long healed, so Christine was back to helping the other dancers improve. Madame Giry worked with them as a whole, while Christine would pull one to three aside to work out individual issues.

She felt listless and empty, all the weeks of excitement looking foreword to the wedding had drained her, and nothing seemed to be left.

Madame Giry actually took her aside at lunch and asked if she needed the day off. Christine refused, knowing she needed something to fill her time.

When work ended, she sat at the edge of a wooden box again, watching the others leave. Absentmindedly she worked with her hair, taking it down then up again. Eventually she braided it and left it.

She guessed that she had another hour until her lessons, no, not lessons anymore. Christine reminded herself. Her meeting with Erik. Friends, friends who would meet and discuss music.

Christine laughed, almost nothing had changed.

It had been two weeks since she'd seen Erik, and she missed him, she had a feeling that he could fill the hole that was now in her heart. If only temporarily.

Her fingers twitched some more, and her eyes drifted to the piano, the one used in rehearsals sitting behind a curtain on the stage. Slowly she lifted herself up and walked over to it, she pulled out the chair, feeling the splintered wood beneath her hands.

Gently, she sat, pushing up the cover of the piano. It's quiet clap echoed through the empty stage, she took a deep breath and began to play a scale.

She hadn't played the piano for quite some time, but over the last decade she's neglected her skills. The lack of an available piano had much to do with it, but it was also because the piano reminded her of her father.

Several scales later, Christine set her hands in her lap and thought for a moment, then began to play Clair de Lune. Her fathers favorite.

It felt good, to be playing again, and she began to hum softly along with the song, ignoring the small mistakes here and there.

It filled her, the familiar and sad song. It felt like an old friend, welcoming her and holding her, it's sad tune understanding the hollow feeling inside her.

"I didn't know you played the piano." Erik's voice echoed behind her.

Christine started, the notes she played cut off, the feeling of comfort gone. She turned round and laughed, her heart dancing in her chest. "Stop-" She gasped. "scaring me like that!"

Erik loomed over over as always, but his normal black silk cloak was missing. He looked smaller without it, of course he still towered over her with what must have been over six feet. But without the cloak he looked less large, less intimidating.

Christine found she liked it.

He wore a suit, of course, one tailored for his thin frame, and white gloves covered his thin hands. "Apologies." He said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Good heavens. Just because your the Opera Ghost doesn't mean that you have to frighten me." Christine smiled, standing from her seat and moving away from the bench.

"You hardly need the push." Erik remarked mildly, waving a gloved hand in the air. "I hope Emily's wedding went well?"

"Oh-" Christine smiled. "Yes, she felt rather nervous at first, but it all turned out right."

"Good." Erik's fingers twitched, as if searching for keys to play. "It would be quite the disaster if it couldn't happen now."

"Yes. I suppose." Christine hesitated. "I- I'm very proud of her. She's made her mistakes but she's learning and doing her best to fix them."