Author's Note: Hello my lovely readers. I am very sorry about the late update, but alas, I was not able to log onto my computer the past few days for personal reasons. Elizabeth has some ditzy moments in this chapter, but please bear with her. After all, how would you act if Erik started touching you? Think hard. Yes, my point exactly, not quite coherent are you? Please enjoy this chapter and as always, READ AND REVIEW!
DISCLAIMER: I do not, nor have I ever owned the Phantom of the Opera. If someone can find someway to sell me Erik, I will bake them a large tray of cookies and agree to be their eternal slave.
She closed her eyes as he touched her face, the paleness of her cheeks blooming to life with color. She accepted him. After a moment though, she pulled away, biting her lip. "What are we doing? This…a man should not touch a woman at their first meeting with such a desire in his eyes. Leads to ill intent, so please." Things were proceeding a little too fast a pace for her. "I don't mean to reject you Monsieur, but...." she looked away and bit her lip. "Perhaps we should discover more about one another before such touches are exchanged?" She put her hand on his and shook her head. "Such is a proper, gentlemanly thing to do, is it not?"
Erik frowned slightly, a bit embarrassed. "Forgive me, Elizabeth. I have not been exposed to polite society as you have. I would surely not wish to compromise your virtue. I would never be able to forgive myself for something so horrible. Come little darling, I shall be able to speak more freely in an atmosphere that is familiar. Care to visit my humble abode?" He smiled slightly and strode to the mirror, as cavalier as though he were inviting her for a ride in his carriage rather than deep below the opera house. "The choice, is of course, up to you." He waited patiently, almost humbly. It was the most unsure of himself he had seemed in years. He was letting his guard down. Erik was allowing himself to be a man.
She took a step back, her hand on her chest. Curiosity tore her in two. She wanted to get to know this man however, being alone…beneath the opera with him...where no one could hear her was terrifying. "Why can we not remain up here? To recede to your comfort zone and pull me outside my own will surely not make us understand one another. Do you fear this lonely room so much?"
He sighed once more. That Elizabeth was terrified was plain. He did not want to crush a friendship that had just so recently bloomed. He did not want her to be frightened of him. "We may stay above the opera house, with one condition: we must leave this room. The dressing room which you are in once belonged to Mademoise-...Madam l'Vicomtess de Chagny. Hence the two way mirror." He gestured to it and chuckled a bit at her surprised face. "What? You think I would have the time and energy to install these in all dressing rooms. Well, I suppose I could, but I did not have the will, as none of the other ballerinas interested me as Christine did. In any case, this room holds far too many memories. It was here that I taught her to sing like an angel and here that I presented my red roses to her. Everything in this room has her scent lingering upon it." He groaned with heartache and again sat upon the chaise. "Anywhere else you would be comfortable... that we may retire to without being seen?"
She felt herself pity him. Her eyes softened and she scooted close to him, laying her hands on his shyly. "And you think...I shall do the same as she? That I shall betray you and run off with some handsome fellow who is fickle and cares nothing for me aside from my beauty and voice? Do you think another woman could be so air headed as Christine was?" Her voice softened and she blushed. "You are a genius....Everyone knows it. Will you teach me as you taught Christine? I desire to be good at something. I have no talent as a dancer and my voice is not even that of a chorus girl." Her cheeks reddened and she looked away. "And if I do not contribute to the opera house...they shall have no need of me and I will be thrown out. Then I will have no where to go."
He moved his hands away. "Do not insult Christine in my presence. She may have left me, but I still love her with every fiber of my being. She did not make the choice I wanted her to, but still it was hers." Erik's eyes softened and he moved back toward Elizabeth. "I apologize. You do not deserve such an outburst. In any case, I feel happier with you than I have in quite a while... perhaps even with Christine." Rosy color came into his death pale cheeks, as he was not used to expressing such emotion. He looked at her, his eyes both hopeful and resigned. "I can teach you to have a voice worthy of a diva. You have some measure of natural talent. I can determine that by your speaking voice. I cannot teach you to be a better dancer, as even though I have some knowledge of classical ballet, the technique for men and women is very different." He saw her eyes fill with tears. "I will talk to Marguerite... Madame de Barbarac, on your behalf. She listens to my guidance as her mother did before her." Erik cupped her chin in his hand. "You shall astonish Paris."
Elizabeth saw the blush forming on his cheeks and she blushed as well. Even with the disfigurement he was a handsome man. Erik was kind and quite a gentleman. But with his last declaration, she shook her head and looked down at her hands. "But...I will never be the woman you love. I cannot be Christine." She stood up and closed her eyes. "Monsieur....I...." She looked away, jealousy in her eyes. For once she was interested in someone and he loved another. "I wish you not to ask favors of others. I do not want to stay because of that. I want to stay if I am good enough." She was looking away from him now, a little disheartened. "I think it best you go now."
Erik grabbed her hand, pleading sadness in his eyes. "Please do not ask me to leave, Elizabeth. May I speak freely?" He gazed into her eyes, holding her cheek with his strong hand. "Yes, I love Christine. However, this love is a poison to my very soul. She has tormented me and tortured me and left to marry that wretched Vicomte. I love her, yes, but in many ways, I hate her. I hate her for stealing my heart, then tearing it apart and leaving it bleeding on the ground. I hate her for her foolishness, her selfish pride. I hate her." His eyes were cold and yet full of unadulterated longing, not for the woman he spoke of, but for the woman before him. "I am not asking you to love me, Elizabeth, as I know no one can. I am simply asking you to help me cultivate your voice into something beyond this world." Erik stroked her auburn hair, thinking. "I am asking you to be my angel, as never anyone was before."
