A/N: Wow! Thanks for the response guys! I've noticed the reviews are getting longer and more detailed and the one thing you all seem to enjoy is Erik calling Margot cherie. If I get six reviews for this chapter, I'll post an outtake which will have much cherie-calling, I promise. Thanks so much for taking the time to read my story guys, it means alot!

BTW: Things are going to start to become clearer soon; more aligned with the movie-verse. Hope you enjoy it but if you don't, leave a review all the same and (kindly) tell me where I might need some work? Thanks!


CHAPTER EIGHT

You know why I came home so happy that night now Christine. I kissed the Phantom for the first time in the first minutes of 1867. I lived with the words I'd swallowed back that night for three years Christine, because I truly believed there was no way someone like Erik could love someone like me. I had little to offer him, mentally or physically. I was inferior and I could not compete, especially not when I began to see how he looked at you.

It did not start when you were a child. I'm sure that's something you've wondered about and Erik has nothing to do with that kind of filth. His intentions were pure to begin with Christine; he wanted someone to take his music and let it really soar and he knew you could do it. But as he explained to me, things became tangled somewhere along the way and suddenly, passion and longing became love and the only way to keep his plans together was to possess you.

It is not an excuse but can you remember what he was like? You remember 1870 solnyshka. You remember what happened but do you remember how it felt? How it felt to be young and beautiful and loved by a mystery? How enticing his presence was? How exciting and confusing? Erik is a complicated man and despite his flawless logic, he tends to put plans awry simply with his presence.

You may say he was a madman. You may call him a monster. I have no right to judge how you look at him, after what he did to you but know this, solnyshka, Erik is a man. He was a man who was in love with you for many years and believe me or not, he was just days away from confessing it to you…


Winter, 1870
Catacombes
Paris, France


"She's ready," Erik murmured one night while Margot sat in her leather winged chair, designing the new headdresses for Hannibal. After the Masquerade, at which Margot had, in Carlotta's eyes, snatched the handsome stranger, Margot had fallen out of favour with the diva and was now only invited to join the entourage twice a week.

Margot found nothing to complain about over the new arrangements and threw herself back into her designing work.

"Who?" Margot hummed, absently as she pencilled in hair ribbons for the lead soprano's head gear. "Does this make it look top heavy?" she asked, flipping the drawing around.

Erik took a brief glance before turning back to his organ. "Far too tall. Carlotta's flailing will simply knock it off her head."

Margot looked again and sighed. "You're right of course."

"The glitter across her forehead is clever though," Erik commented.

Margot eyed him carefully before turning back to her drawings. "You've never complimented me before. I usually know you're impressed by the general lack of critique." She said, off-handedly.

"Perhaps I'm practising." Erik said, mockingly.

Margot watch him from her sketchpad. "Who is ready, Erik?"

"Christine." The Phantom replied with relish. "She's ready to be revealed."

The brunette raised her eyebrows. "Oh? In what role? The supporter in Hannibal?"

"Supporter?" Erik scoffed at her suggestion, running his hands through his hair as he toyed with the last notes of his opera. "Of course not. I intend to have Christine play the lead in Hannibal."

Margot nearly fell out of her seat. "The lead? I- You intend to take the lead from La Carlotta?"

"No I intend to have her give it up herself." Erik said, his voice full of calculations. "It's best if you stayed away from the stage this coming Monday, cherie."

"And why is that?" Margot asked, feeling dread pool in her stomach. She found she could not always agree with what Erik deemed necessary to his plans but while she attempted to cool some of his more fatal ideas, Margot had little say over the Phantom's movements within his opera house.

Erik did not reply to her question. "LeFevre is retiring, you know."

Margot gasped. "Mon Dieu, I thought they were rumours!" Oh no, Uncle will have no work, we'll have to leave. Christine and Meg, what will they do?

Erik pounded on his organ with glee. "He sent me a note for the first time in a decade, asking for forgiveness for his retirement but that his health was failing and he intended to leave France far, far behind."

Putting down the pencils Erik had allowed her to borrow, Margot rubbed her eyes, surprised over Erik's happiness at the idea. "Well what a fine idea that is!" she spat. "How will you get your money now?"

Erik rolled his eyes at her dramatics. "I did not say the Populaire was closing, cherie."

Margot paused in her racing thoughts over what this might mean for the Opera House and everyone inside it. "But...what then? New managers?"

"Indeed," Erik said, thoughtfully. "Messieurs Andre and Firmin, if I'm not mistaken. It is a shame I will have to break yet another manager in but the new management is the perfect occasion to have Christine take centre stage."

Margot watched as Erik's hands danced across his organ, not actually playing the music which would be too loud to carry a conversation over. "Erik?"

"Oui Margot?"

She halted, trying to phrase her question delicately. "Christine is very beautiful." she began. She herself had noticed how Christine had begun to blossom, though in many ways she was more girl than woman.

"Perfect for the lead soprano." Erik smiled. His tone set her nerves alight with tension.

"Yes," she agreed, feeling worry gnaw at her stomach. "But I wonder- you told me once that you longed for Christine's voice. I suppose what I want to know is whether you now long for something…else…of hers…" Her body? Her heart? Her love?

The Phantom paused in his composition and turned to face his friend who was watching him anxiously. "She's ready," Erik repeated. "To be revealed. And perhaps to have me reveal myself."

Margot's eyes slipped shut in disappointment, her fears confirmed. "Erik-"

"She loves her Angel, Margot." Erik said, firmly. "She will learn to love me and our music also."

The brunette sighed, sadly. "Erik, Christine thinks her Angel is the spirit of her dead father."

"Then that love will strengthen the one I hope to grow with her." Erik replied, facing away from Margot, dismissively if not defensively.

"It is not the same kind of love!" Margot snapped, hopelessly. It is not the love I have for you. Erik's fingers froze on the keys. He stood abruptly and paced the candlelit platform that lifted his organ.

"You do not think she will accept me." Erik's voice said, flatly. "You do not think she will accept my face as it is."

Margot bit her lip, frustrated. "Erik, I worry for you. A blind man can see what you want out of Christine and I worry that she will not be able to give it to you, not for your face but because you are not the Angel she thinks you are."

"Perhaps not!" The Phantom roared, knocking one of his many-armed candelabras into the lake. Margot flinched at the aggression. "But she will learn. She loves her Angel and the music we make, she will learn to love her Phantom and the music we will make."

"Erik-"

"That is all I will hear of it Margot!" Erik hissed, standing away from her. His back was rife with tension as he glared at his organ, the white hot anger radiating toward Margot nearly palpable.

Sighing, Margot carefully put his pencils back on the side desk he'd created for her and stood, wrapping her shawl around her shoulders. "Will you take me back now?" she asked, shakily. "I need to finish my drawings for Madame Tenau tomorrow."

Erik merely nodded, donning his cape as he traversed the passageways, Margot trailing behind. She could probably navigate them herself at this point but she enjoyed the time she spent with Erik and this was another way of making sure it did not end so quickly.

As he dispatched her to the hidden doorway at the end of her hallway, Margot paused and took a deep breath. "Erik, I know you said you didn't want to hear me speak of it but for your sake," Margot summoned her courage and brushed her fingers across the right, masked side of his face. If only for his sake, though it might break my heart- "I hope she does accept you." she whispered, truthfully before she disappeared back into her apartments.


As Carlotta warbled along on stage, Margot stood to the side with the cleaning women, rolling her eyes at the patchiness of the soprano. She had refused, much to Madame Tenau's surprise, to work on stage today, claiming that she felt dizzy. Margot wove one of her less inspired excuses that to finished the detailing of the ballerina's hair pieces, she needed to work amongst the audience chairs, to see how they saw it.

In reality, Margot was heeding Erik's warning about being on stage and was keeping an eye on the pair of gentlemen who had arrived that morning, dressed in suits and looking proudly about what Margot assumed was their new opera house.

The managers, she thought, watching as a few of the chorus girls cast eyes at the middle aged men. She hoped they would take to Erik's advice quicker than LeFevre had but as they pranced about, chatting with another young man that Margot recognised from a few previous performances as the Viscount de Changy, she doubted they were the type to take Erik's advice without a few threats and disasters.

Margot eyed Monsieur LeFevre as he came to the front of the stage, upsetting the maestro in the orchestra bay dreadfully. "What's all this then?" one of the laundress' asked from behind Margot.

"He is announcing his retirement, I should think," she whispered back and the laundress nearly wilted.

"Mon Dieu," she whimpered. "Who will keep it together now?"

"Monsieur Reyer, Madame Giry, ladies and gentlemen, please, if I can have your attention, thank you." Monsieur LeFevre began, a tone of relief in his voice. "As you know, for some weeks there have been rumours of my imminent retirement. I can now tell you that these were all true, and it is my pleasure to introduce to the two gentlemen who now own the Opera Populaire, M. Richard Firmin and M. Gilles Andre."

"Those two, I'd assume." Margot replied to the laundress, her tone disbelieving.

"Junk merchants?" the laundress snorted. "What kind of a joke is that?"

Margot felt sure that all hope was lost for them. Not only would two 'scrap metal' entrepreneurs know anything about the arts, but such arrogant, self-made men would hardly bow to the words of the Opera Ghost!

As they introduced the new patron, the young man entered the stage and Margot spotted Christine and Meg whispering, their gazes locked on the Viscount. Margot rolled her eyes. Oh God, don't let them get any thoughts in their heads about seducing the new patron, please, that is the last thing I need right now.

As La Carlotta and Piangi were introduced, Carlotta preening as always, the Viscount announced the gala for the night and exited, much to Margot's relief. Meg and Christine looked upset but soon the managers were touring with Madame Giry to see the ballerinas and Margot watch with pride as the girls performed their steps perfectly for the managers.

At least their futures are secure, she thought, gratefully. The managers like them. Although if what Erik said was true, by the end of today, Christine would be well on her way to becoming the Prima Donna of the Opera Populaire itself.

As the rehearsal finished up, ruined by Piangi's weight and inability to climb the prop elephant, La Carlotta's temper showed itself. "I hope he is as excited by dancing girls as your new managers because I," she screeched. "will not be singing!"

"Oh Lord," Margot sighed, finishing the last of the jewelled hair pieces for the ballerinas. "Here we go."

The managers looked stunned as Carlotta stormed away though after a few short words from M. LeFevre, Andre and Firmin raced after Carlotta, spewing praise and compliments.

"Monsieur Reyer, isn't there a rather marvellous aria for Elisa in Act Three of Hannibal?" one of the managers quickly improvised.

As La Carlotta screamed over her unfinished costume and 'dreadful hat', falling into theatrical tears while the managers begged for a private rendition of the aria, Margot tuned out the rest of the rehearsal, wondering how Erik would feel over his plans going to waste-

Eeeeeerk!

Margot turned at the screams in time to see the back drop for Act Four come crashing down on the stage, knocking La Carlotta off her feet.

"The Phantom! The phantom of the Opera, he's here!" someone squealed.

The managers began to call abuse at the stagehand in the flies and Margot felt her stomach roll to see Joseph Buquet calling back his innocence. He caught Margot's eyes in the crowd and smirked, slyly. "There's no one there!" Buquet mocked. "Or if there is, then he must be a ghost!"

Margot tore her eyes away and watched with growing fascination as La Carlotta screamed and ranted over the ghost, finally storming out for the hundredth time and Madame Giry appeared with a familiar white letter in her hands.

"He welcomes you to his opera house-" she began.

"His opera house?" the managers echoed, incredulously. Margot hid a smile. Erik is watching somewhere and he is laughing.

"And commands that you continue to leave Box Five empty for his use and reminds you that his salary is due." Madame Giry adds, her tone slightly amused.

As the managers began to fret over the odd letter, the 20,000 franc salary and that their first performance would be ruined by the complete lack of a soprano, Margot paused on her way up the stage steps, her eyes drawn to Christine who was comforting Meg.

"But obviously we will now have to cancel as it appears we have now lost our star!" the manager cried.

Before she knew what she was doing, Margot was walking toward the managers. "Christine Daae could sing it, sir."

Eyes locked on her, Margot floundered as Monsieur Andre dismissed her suggestion. Madame Giry, thankfully cut in. "She's been taking lessons from a great teacher." The ballet mistress added and in what felt like the blink of her eyes, Margot watched Christine take the stage and let the aria Carlotta had attempted, soar throughout the theatre.

Before her eyes, Erik's plans were complete and Christine was announced as the lead soprano for Hannibal.


The performance was arguably the best of the entire season so far.

The new managers were glowing with pride but the toast of the entire evening was the new, beautiful soprano Christine Daae. Margot congratulated her in her compartments an hour after the production, having had to put away all the costumes.

Margot felt concern as she looked at Christine's paler than normal face. "Christine, are you alright solnyshka?"

Christine looked at her with her wide doe eyes. "I-I performed tonight for my papa, Margot and he has not given me a sign that I did well." She fiddled with the red rose Margot recognised as Erik's.

Margot pushed her irritation with Erik away as she brushed out Christine's curls. "Well let me say how perfect you were, solnyshka," she said, fondly. "You were so incredible, he would be mad not to be proud of you."

The door suddenly opened and Margot turned to snap at the intruder, only to find their handsome new patron, his smile stretched wide at the sight of Christine. "Little Lotte let her mind wander. Little Lottie thought: Am I fonder of dolls or of goblins or shoes…" he began to recite, nonsensically.

In the back of her head, Margot remember a very young Christine reciting such lines and talking about a boy at the house by the sea. Oh no, she thought suddenly. Her sweetheart has returned. Oh no, poor Erik.

"…or of riddles or frocks?" the Viscount continued.

"Those picnics in the attic," Christine added, beaming.

"Or of chocolates?"

"Father playing the violin."

"As we read to each other dark stories of the North."

"No - what I love best, Lottie said, is when I'm asleep in my bed and the Angel of Music sings songs in my head!" Christine sang softly.

"You sang like an Angel tonight." The Viscount said, hugging her gently. He suddenly appeared to notice Margot and, misunderstanding her role as a maid, cast his eyes at the door. Margot's eyebrows rose at his rudeness.

"Christine, I will be off now." She addressed her little friend who suddenly seemed to remember her.

"Oh, Margot, this is Raoul. We used to play together when we were small." Christine introduced.

Raoul stood and bowed politely to the young lady who merely nodded. "Raoul, Margot is one of my dearest friends here." Christine informed him, smiling. "Thankyou for tonight. It would not have been so beautiful without your gown." Christine added, smiling at the silvery dress she still wore, one of Margot's personal creations.

"It was a pleasure solnyshka." Margot added, fondly. She noticed of course, how Raoul's brow furrowed at the foreign language but ignored him until she had left the Prima Donna's apartments. "Oh Erik," she raised her eyes, wondering if he was listening or still too pleased with himself to hear her. "Be careful. They were in love as children and- and I think they still are."


A/N: Soooo? The movie has begun, what do you think? Remember, six reviews and I'll post an outtake. Leave a suggestion for a specific scene you want to see in the reviews if you like!