*Disclaimer: I don't own the characters to the Phantom of the opera, Gaston Leroux does. Please read and review.*

¨~The Mysterious Brougham~

"We can go anywhere you want, there's a beautiful moon out tonight." For a fortnight Christine had been with Erik after the dreadful accident with the chandelier falling down at the opera. A woman had died during that sad night, but not only that, La Carlotta had sounded dreadful too. Erik had asked Christine to come home to him, since now there was no question that La Carlotta needed to be replaced. He asked her to beg Mama Valerius to let her stay a fortnight with her genius and she had granted the request.

"Really?" Christine didn't know if Erik ever wanted to leave the opera house, but then again of course he would have to. He wasn't a heremit. A heremit would never want to live beneath the busiest house in all of Paris, and he had left on several occasions to get groceries to his house or whatever you wanted to call it.

"Of course, you've earned it. One mustn't strain the voice too hard. That's the quickest way to disrupt any success. Rest is just as important as training, you know that now. So where do you want to go?"

Christine smiled and her chest filled up with a sense of pride.

"Then I would like to go to the Bois."

"Then that's where we'll go."

Outside the opera Garnier, in the rotunda, there's always a line of broughams ready to take opera visitors, workers and others to any corner of Paris at their will.

That night a strange couple made their way to the broughams. The skinny man dressed in a formal dress coat had an agile walk in his step. And he walked next to a shy, but seemingly happy girl in her early twenties who was wearing a beautiful, dark green velvet dress out of the latest fashion. The kind of dress you could see in all the latest magazines and journals, but nothing less was expected these days from the opera visitors, so that in itself wasn't strange.

Not the age difference either, after all, there were a lot of older men seen with a lot younger ballerinas, going out for a glass of wine and more after a performance, or maestros seen with their younger protégés. No, the difference was the air of equality and admiration between the two.

That was what was strange. Mostly the men in Paris had all the money and power in any relationship they were engaged in. However this man seemed to have a respectable distance to the girl, rather than the disrespectful closeness common among the other cigar smoking gentlemen at the opera.

The driver who held the door open for the couple raised an eyebrow when he saw the profile of the man. Maybe it was the darkness that fooled his eyes, but as the profile of the skinny man made his way past the driver, it almost looked like he had no nose. The driver dropped his jaw but at the same time he got his eyes pierced by the strangest pair of yellow eyes he had ever seen.

"To the Bois de Boulogne." The skinny man said and held out a 10 Francs note to the driver.

"Of course monsieur." Said the driver, took the money, bowed his head and then took his place behind the dark horse, grabbed whip and led them out of the rotunda towards the Bois.

The brougham went out to the 16th arrondissement and the only sound that was being heard in the night was the sound of the wheels turning and the hooves against the pavement.

The nightlife in Paris wasn't as busy this time of year as it was during the summertime, and there were only a few other broughams seen driving in the park at a distance.

During the summertime this was a popular place for families to have picnics and people to go boat rowing but now the lake was being covered by a thinning layer of ice. Too thin for children to skate on at the moment, but in the winter it had been a popular place for children to spend their pastime.

They went past the upper lake and Christine opened up a window, stuck her head out the window and took some deep breaths of crisp, cold air. You could just barely make out the different kinds of trees that surrounded them along their way. Beech, linden, cedar and chestnuts grew in the park to name a few.

Erik enjoyed the view of Christine with her head out the window, and how her blonde locks glowed in the pale moonlight. She looked so carefree, young and beautiful. His sweet, precious Christine. She had learned so much over the last couple of months when they had been working together. She was a very attentive and good pupil, but it was more than that. They were more than just teacher and student.

Erik closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of her heavy perfume which filled the brougham, and it exited him. Sheexited him. He had travelled the world but he had never met anyone like Christine.

"I love it here" Christine said, not turning her head towards Erik, but knowing he was listening. He always listened to her. During their lessons he challenged her to always reach new heights and she couldn't have had a better teacher. With the improvements of her voice Gabriel, the chorus master was very pleased, and the ticket sales to the opera had gone up, so the managers were truly delighted also. This season had by far been her best one yet. Erik truly wasthe Angel of music.

"It's like an escape from the city within the city. Too bad I never got to skate this year. I've been too busy. But if there's enough ice on the lake here next year I will have to go at least once. Jammes, you know, little blue-eyed Cecile? She claims to be the fastest girl to skate from one side of the lake to the other. But my brothers taught me how to skate very fast back in Sweden, and I think I will have to at least try to give her a challenge next year."
She paused, turned back from the window and looked at Erik who was sitting, looking straight in front of himself, almost as if he was stuck in a memory. A question suddenly popped up in Christine's head.

"Do you know how to skate?"

"No... I've never learned how. What is it like?"

"I guess you can say it's almost like ballet in a way. You need balance and trust in order to make it work, and you mustn't be afraid to fall! But when you get a hang of it it's almost like gliding through the air… or like when a knife cuts through butter."

His eyes pierced hers, and she felt a little bit embarrassed, so she looked down and started to adjust her gloves, even though there was no need.

For the first time during the drive it was Erik who chose to break the uncomfortable silence.

"I've been meaning to ask you. Will you do me the great honor of accompany me to the masked ball in honor of Garnier this Saturday?"

The masked ball was a big event that would take place four days from now. A lot of artists and singers were invited and everyone who was anyone in Paris was planning on going.

"But… but I have nothing to wear!" That wasn't entirely true, but Christine was afraid that if Raoul saw her with another man he would be jealous. Raoul was easily jealous, she had already noticed that much, and she didn't want to make him upset. After all: he was her childhood sweetheart, and a vicomte at that.

Erik then turned to her, with a small grin on his face that told her that he didn't see her lack of clothing as being a problem. Christine felt her cheeks blush and hoped Erik wouldn't notice. But Erik took in her entire being with his glowing eyes.

"My dear you would look good in anything…" He raised his hand as if to touch her, and sexual tension filled the air, but he hesitated and let the hand drop to his side again. He wanted to touch her so badly but how could he? He didn't want to scare her away, not now when he knew she had another man just waiting for his chance with her. He needed her too much to let her go. So he let her be.

"But don't you worry child. You will find a black domino dress waiting for you in your dressing room tomorrow that will be fitting for the event. We shall meet by the big staircase at midnight.

"Oh, alright. Thank you monsieur. But what will you be dressed as?"

"Oh, you'll see, don't worry dear, you can't miss me. It'll be a big surprise for everybody! I will make sure to make quite the entrance!" Erik giggled.

Erik's excitement scared Christine a bit and so instead of asking him what he meant by his curious words, she once again stuck her head out into the cold spring night. All of a sudden she heard her name being called out. It was Raoul calling her. What was he doing here? Erik mustn't see him! He mustn't know Raoul was there. Quickly Christine closed the window and yawned, covering her mouth with her white glove.

"Are you very tired?" Erik asked.

"Yes, it's been a long day."

"You're right. You need some rest. Let's take you home."

"Home?"

"Yes, a fortnight is what I promised you and that's what you've been given. Mama Valerius must be missing you."

Erik knocked on the ceiling as a sign for the driver to pay attention. "Take us to Rue Notre-Dame-des-Victoires, quickly please." From above they could hear the driver reply: "Yes, monsieur." And the brougham quickly made its way back from the park to the streets of Paris. Raoul ran behind it, crying out Christine's name, but it was in vain.

When the couple had made their way to the little flat at Rue Notre-Dame-des-Victoires, Christine got ready to leave the brougham. As the driver opened her door she turned one last time to Erik.

"I know that you've said that I would never hear from you ever again, if I got engaged to someone… and I just wanted to say that I don't know what I would do without you, Angel. I just wanted to let you know how grateful I am for these last two weeks. They have been wonderful."

Erik only nodded in reply.

"I'll see you at the masked ball on Saturday Christine, sleep well child." Once again he knocked on the brougham ceiling. "Driver, take me back to the opera."