As the opera opening was scheduled for the night after the dress rehearsal, Erik took it upon himself to go to Christine in the early afternoon.

He had not thought that Carlotta would have left so abruptly; his intention had been merely to scare her. All the same, he was glad that he made Christine learn the role of Elissa in Hannibal.

It amazed him how she was quickly becoming his drug; that is, the more they were apart, the more he craved, no, needed her presence. He laughed at himself, his schoolboy's fantasies, and took special care in dressing, even though he would not have the courage to reveal himself to her. But he could imagine…

He approached the mirror quietly, holding his breath as she came into view. She was playing with her hair, twirling it, coiling it up and around her beautiful face as he watched, not daring to speak and ruin the intimacy of the moment. She gently forced several pins into place, securing the coil at the top of her head. That done, she stood, walking away from her dressing table, and began working at the knot that held her dressing robe.

He watched so intently, he nearly forgot to look away as she let one sleeve of the robe drop, exposing a creamy white shoulder to his adoring gaze. Realizing she was meaning to undress, he looked down, fidgeting with the button on the outside of his cuff, and took the opportunity to speak.

"You have studied both the libretto and the score, yes," he questioned.

Christine let out a small gasp, immediately pulling the shoulder of the robe back to its original place. Her hand stilled over her heart.

"You mustn't sneak up on me like that. You…startled me." He began to speak but she cut him off. "And besides that…it is most…improper…"

He did not speak, for he saw the color creep into her cheeks, saw her hand instinctively pull the front of the dressing gown completely over her chest as she dropped her head. "I…you cannot….," she started, but her voice trailed off, and with it, her hand slowly moved to the side of her neck, which she began to knead. It was such a deliberate, sensual motion that his eyes were riveted to that hand. He knew it was an unconscious motion, but the thought it was excited him even more. You see, to Erik, it showed that she had an innate sensuality to her, to everything she did, to every way she moved.

His throat was dry, unbearably so. He could hear his breath, raspy as it passed his lips. When he spoke next, he was afraid his voice would betray his…thoughts.

"You…you have studied both," he asked again, in a desperate attempt to change the situation.

All the while he had wondered at this change in her behaviour. She seemed to bring up the very topics he himself had wondered about, but had been too afraid to speak of. Perhaps she was just maturing, but perhaps, she felt something else…

"Yes, I have, Erik." She cleared her throat as her hand dropped from her neck, almost as if she had been snapped back into reality. "I am…excited, but I am ever so nervous. Not only that I might make a mistake, but that….well the audience is expecting La Carlotta. They may not like me before I even step foot on stage because I am not her."

"Do not give her supernatural powers, Christine. She is good only because of her reputation. It is true that at one time she was simply breathtaking on stage. Now, I doubt if there are opera goers who do not yearn for a replacement."

She pondered this for a moment, then asked, "you think so?"

"Oh yes, quite. Carlotta was a fine singer in her prime, which is now past. If she grew to embrace humility and abandon her histrionics, I would assume her career would still be assured. As it is, the opera house seems to be begging for a new ingenue."

She did not respond, so he added, as a joke, "although, seeing you play opposite Signore Piangi will probably read to the audience as a tale along the lines of Jonah and the whale."

She laughed, and it was a wonderful, spontaneous thing. She did not force it in any way which made it all the more beautiful. He loved the way her hair was lit by the candles in her dressing room and the tiny dimples that formed near the corners of her mouth. And her laugh! It was such a beautiful sound that even her laugh could make the angels weep. Gradually, her laughter subsided and her eyes grew serious.

"I do so hope I do not disappoint you tonight," she said quietly.

He spoke then, his voice no more than a whisper. "I did not know that my disappointment would play such a large part in your mind."

She responded, "Of course. You always are in my mind."

Neither of them spoke for several moments longer than would be comfortable, and Erik broke the silence. "Christine, you could never disappoint me. Regardless of what you did or did not do. Not ever."

For some reason, his answer was not enough, not for Christine. She spoke to him again, innocently yet pointedly, " I never fail to…please you then?"

He gritted his teeth as his fingernails unconsciously drove themselves into his palms. He exhaled once, twice, a third time. Then he responded brusquely, "no, you do not."

Why did she play these games? Did she not know the yearning in his heart? Did she not know that toying with her Angel thusly was bound to be his ruin, his heartbreak?

She somehow sensed the uncomfortable tension in his voice and decided not to speak at this particular moment. He swallowed, tried to clear his head, and ignore the blood pounding in his ears. He would not distract her tonight. This evening meant too much for her. This would be her debut, and he would not be the cause of any undue stress. She already had more than enough to worry about. Somehow, his feelings for her enabled him to push past his desire to tell her exactly what he felt, and instead spoke simply.

"We shall start at the beginning of Act Three since it is the most demanding, and work our way backward."

She said nothing. Everything about the opera was secondary in this moment. She was curious, she wanted to know, she wanted him to talk to her and explain this recent awkwardness between them. She needed it defined for her in some childlike manner. She had to know why he haunted her dream and why when she thought of singing tonight, she thought only of pleasing him.

"Erik, do I make you happy?"

He did not make a concerted effort to say, "yes", but the word somehow slipped out of its own accord. He drew a quick breath, as if he could somehow pull the word back into his mouth. His voice came out, nearly silent. "Act Three if you please—"

"Do you ever think of me as a woman?"

What was she doing? Madness. Divine, insane madness. Even if he never touched her, never loved her, in this one moment, he felt she was his. His heart sped up and his palms clenched, moistness forming between the fingers. 'Please, don't respond', he told his lips, his mouth, his tongue.

Christine heard no answer from the other side of the glass. She wondered if this had been too bold on her part; if this was something that women and men do not discuss. But then again, she didn't really know; her knowledge of the opposite sex came almost solely from him. He was the only male she really knew and spoke with regularly.

Erik spoke, breaking the silence. Agitation rung in his voice as he responded, "Of course I think of you as a woman, you are a woman. What an absurd question!" He could have won an award for his artful dodging of her true question. He licked his lips again and found them dry, cracking, as before. He gently ran his hands down his trouser legs, losing the moisture which had accumulated in the process.

"Miss Daae-"

She spoke, her voice a little more harsh this time. It would be a question for which he had no answer. "Erik, do you have….affection towards me?"

What could he do? Respond in truth and lose her trust, along with everything they had worked so hard for? Or lie? Lying was perhaps the most dangerous game of all. To leave her unknowing of his true intentions. His mind seemed to race more rapidly than it ever had, and he wished he could simply run. After taking a moment to compose himself (and with solid resolve), he spoke gruffly.

"I will not answer any more of these ridiculous questions. Since you seem to be thoroughly uninterested in preparing for this evening's performance, I am just as uninterested in taking the time to tutor you. I wish you all the best of luck this evening, Miss Daae, now good day."

She had to stop him! Did he not feel the same? She didn't even know what she felt, just that it was a different sort of a feeling, and that she had it whenever he was involved. It was both her curiosity and the desire to have him stay which led her to suddenly blurt out, "Erik!"

She heard him stop moving from behind the mirror. Her heart was racing and she was breathing heavily.

"Do you still wish for…something more?"

Heat flooded his head, his chest, down to his hands, his feet. With unmistakable lust in his voice he spoke quietly.

"More? I always want more, Christine."

She paused as she thought out her words carefully. She spoke, the heat latent in her voice.

"Erik…come to me now."