A/N: All right… since I have been giving you guys some short chapters, here's a nice long one! Trust me… it is so worth the wait! Don't forget to review!

Chapter 9

Present Time

It was close to midnight when Erik returned back to the apartment. After rehearsals ended around nine, he stayed to work on the pile of paperwork that required his attention. He was expecting Nadir to stay too to keep an eye on him, but to his pleasant surprise… the Iranian left at the same time as the others. And while Erik worked, he did not receive a text message or call from Nadir to check on him or anything.

About time.

Of course, when Erik entered the apartment, he was stunned to see Christine sitting on the couch and watching TV.

She glanced in his direction when the door opened and smiled. "I was wondering if you were coming home."

Shutting the door quickly, Erik swiftly walked over and picked up the remote that was at her side and turned the TV off.

"Hey—" she started but Erik cut her off. "What the Hell are you doing?"

She raised her brow. "Um… I was watching Jay Leno. Why? Are you a Letterman fan?"

"What if someone heard and the super came in…"

"They would see nothing Erik," Christine said calmly and a little annoyed. "I'm a ghost."

"I know that but…" he groaned and shook his head.

"Look. If you're worried about the cable bill, then I have my ways of tweaking it. You'll be surprised how easily manipulative electricity can be," she replied, smirking.

"That's not the point," Erik said, grinding his teeth.

A look of realization passed over on her features. "I see. You're ashamed you have a ghost in your apartment. Well, like I told you, I cannot pass over so I'm stuck. Deal with it. I know I am."

"Honestly? I'm exhausted and I don't feel like arguing."

"Me neither but you're the one that started it," Christine clearly pointed out.

Erik closed his mouth. She was right. "About that… the crossing over thing… I didn't—"

"It's fine Erik. Really," she said, standing up. "If it were anyone else in your shoes, then they would have said the same thing. Hell, I would have said the same if the roles were reversed. You didn't know and I wouldn't have expected you to know, unless you're secretly a medium and knew that already and then I would be pissed."

"I'm not."

She laughed. "I know you're not. I'm only teasing. So… how was work?"

Erik went over to the kitchen and set his briefcase on the table. Christine stood by the table with a big smile on her face. It was then he noticed that she was wearing the same outfit from the other day. "What's with the…" he motioned to her clothes and she looked down at her soft pink shirt and blue jeans. "Can you change clothes?"

"Does it bother you? I don't produce B.O. and can't get them dirty, but…" She closed her eyes in deep concentration and he watched in amazement as her form shimmered and then she appeared with a pair of gray sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt with a golden 'C' emblem across her chest.

"That's some trick," Erik commented.

Christine shrugged. "Well, it only works with the clothes I remember I owned. That and I have to keep the image in my mind for it to work, otherwise…" And to prove it, the comfy clothes reverted back to the pink shirt and jeans. "I go back to what I last wore."

"That's a lot of concentrating."

"Yeah but I had no one to impress so I haven't practiced that much. Anyways, tell me about work."

"You don't have to do that," he said, turning his back to her as he went to the freezer and pulled out a frozen dinner.

"Do what?"

"The 'how was work' thing."

"I want to know," Christine insisted. "I love music and it happens to be a field I'm good in." She paused and her gaze narrowed in on the frozen meal. "You know… you eat an awful lot of those. It's not good for you."

"You're my mother now too?" Erik retorted. "I'm a big boy and can eat whatever I want if you haven't noticed."

Going back to the refrigerator, he pulled out a beer as well. Untwisting the cap, Erik took a swig and added, "You know if we're going to be doing this co-habituating thing. We're going to have set some ground rules."

"I agree," she said. "For one, you have a drinking problem and alcohol should be banned."

"I don't have a problem," he said defensively. "I like to drink and there is nothing wrong with it."

"Of course not," she said. "For most… you, on the other hand, are a different story."

"As I was saying," he said, changing the subject. "We need to establish some ground rules. I'm a very private person and I don't want people snooping in here when I'm not around so no more TV. God knows how long it's been playing since I left and the last thing I want is some idiot going through my belongings."

"I have been watching TV on and off this whole time I've been here. I'm telling you… I never had anyone complained and certainly no one has come into this apartment. Besides, some people leave it on as background noise to prevent people from coming inside. So… I'm really doing you a favor."

"Christine—"

"You're asking me not to do anything. Do you have any clue how boring it can be? A girl can only sit around and read for so long and there are so many things I'm missing that I can catch up on with the TV."

"Don't you go anywhere when you know… you poof?"

She gaped at him. "Poof?"

"Whatever it is you do."

"I don't go anywhere," she said irritably. "When I 'poof' as you say, I'm still here, but I'm not visible to you."

"You were with me in the ambulance. And in the hospital I remember."

"It was a lucky break," Christine replied. "I can leave the apartment for a short period of time, but it doesn't last very long. I end up back here not long after and it was here I remained waiting for you to come back."

His cheek reddened. "Well, that, uh, sucks."

"Tell me about it." She slid into the chair across from him as Erik set the now very hot meal down. He wanted to say something, but bit his tongue and sat down. She seemed to be in a good mood and he didn't want her to disappear on him just yet.

"So…" Erik said. "Do you eat?"

This caused her to burst into laughter. "Where would it go?" she asked.

"I thought it was a pretty good logical question."

"More like 'duh'." Her eyes twinkled with her teasing. It was kind of adorable in a ghostly way. But to his surprise, she rose and walked over to the cabinet where she pulled out a plate and a fork, and then took her seat. He watched with curiosity as she picked up the fork and mimed the actions as if she was about to eat. "Force of habit," she explained. "I can't eat but I like to pretend I can."

Erik chose not to respond to that statement. The last thing he wanted her to think was if she thought he was insulting her. Instead, he continued to stir his potatoes so the steam would release and scooped some up with a piece of chicken and put it in his mouth. Chewing, he told her, "I'm still trying to get used to this whole ordeal. It's not every day that a person finds they have a roommate they didn't know they had. Plus, I did have a long day at the theatre."

"Sorry," she said and she sounded very genuine. "I take it rehearsals didn't go as well as you would have liked?"

"Yes and no…"

"You put on good shows. Always did." Her tone was full of confidence. "Whatever the issue is, you will figure it out and put on the best show for the world to see."

"You have seen my operas?" he questioned in wonder.

If it was possible, she blushed. "You could say that."

"You're not some freakishly stalker spirit now, are you?"

She smiled. "No."

"That's a relief."

"Well, from what I have seen and heard… the theatre will certainly turn things around in the city. Especially when you finish Don Juan Triumphant. People will be lining up and down on Woodward Avenue to be the first to watch a brand new Erik Trussler opera. Of course it would help when you finish it. I know you're not exactly happy with what you have done so far, but I read it… and have to say, I think it is pretty amazing."

"You read it?" Erik repeated in disbelief.

"I hope you don't mind," Christine said sheepishly. "I have heard the bits and pieces you worked on but there were new songs and notes that you hadn't said aloud so I was curious."

"That's personal!" Erik said, rising abruptly from his chair. "I don't let anyone listen or see what I'm working on until I'm finished."

The outburst took her by surprised since she wasn't expecting that reaction. "I'm sorry but you looked like you needed some encouragement. The opera is great. It has plenty of potential. I might be able to help you if you like. I can sing…"

"This is what I mean by ground rules," he said interrupting her. "I don't want you touching my stuff. Period."

"I didn't mean any harm."

Exhaling deeply, Erik sat back down and stared at his beer. "I don't need help. Thanks anyways but in the future… do not touch any music I am working on."

Christine didn't answer but she didn't leave either. Erik knew he said he didn't want to fight, but he couldn't help it. He never liked it when anyone touched his current works let alone listen to him when he played. Not his parents, not Nadir, and certainly not Elena. But it wasn't Christine's fault. She didn't know that and he couldn't fault her for trying to help him when he was so obviously trapped in a block.

"I appreciate the offer," he said, hoping it would soothe any hurt feelings.

She shrugged but her expression hadn't changed. Knowing he should switch gears there was something that had been on his mind all day and from last night.

"I was thinking… are you supposed to be a Guardian Angel?"

Her head tilted to the side. "I thought you didn't believe in that."

"I don't but…"

She nodded understandingly. "I don't have wings. And somehow I doubt Guardian Angels are confined to one place. But I am glad I was here at the right time. I do want to help you. I had this feeling for quite some time… in fact since you moved in. It was something and in a way I am pleased that I haven't moved on yet. We wouldn't be having this conversation if I did."

"Yeah. It was a rather impulsive thing on my part. Thank you."

"You have a gift Erik," she said. "I'm sure whatever it was that drove you to that brink… it couldn't be as bad as you thought. I believe there is no real good reason unless you're severely ill and there's no painless way out."

"Yes, well, it didn't happen."

The conversation stopped and they sat there in silence while Erik finished eating.

Before Erik went to his room, he asked Christine if he could ask her a personal question. She acquiesced and he asked her the other question that was also on his mind.

"How did you die?"

Christine gave him one of her sad smiles. "I wish I knew. That's something I don't remember."

"You don't remember it at all?"

"Afraid not," she answered. "It's foggy… now and then I get bits of pieces here and there, but not enough to put the whole puzzle together. I remember everything else about my life until up to that point. Don't feel bad Erik. It's something you have to accept and I did."

"Don't you want to know? Or at least remember?"

Christine thought about it. "At first… I did. Now… I don't know. It's really something I cannot obsess over with my limitations. But there is one thing I missed doing and it does drive me crazy not to do it."

"What?"

"Singing," she replied. "Being on the stage in front of an audience. That's the one thing I missed most about my life."

"You performed?" Erik was astonished to hear that and he at once began thinking of singers he knew about her age and wondered if he ever heard her.

"Yes. I actually worked for you at the Trussler Opera House here in Detroit."

Now… this captured his attention. She did?

"I don't know what I was thinking, but I had a feeling you wouldn't remember me. I wasn't a lead singer or anything."

"You must have been in the chorus."

"Yes. We ran into each other a few times, but I don't expect you to remember. However, I want to thank you Erik for giving me that opportunity to be a part of your operas. It was a dream of mine and you helped it come true when you hired me some years back." Christine's smile grew wider as she thought back to that moment when she first learned that she was chosen… "It was one of the best moments in my life."

Looking at him, she wished him a good night. Erik did the same and closed the door. Lying on his bed, he stared up at the ceiling and thought back to what Christine revealed to him.

She worked for him… she was in the chorus…

If only he could remember her.

xxXXxx

Five Years Ago…

August 2007

"No. No. No. No!" Christine dug her toe into the hard floor then moved in a quick, impatient circle before taking her position up once more.

After doing a count in her head, she started the dance and about halfway through she messed a step, which caused her balance to falter. Biting her lip, she muffled out an oath and returned to her original position to start all over again.

She could dance. She knew the counts and the routine, but when it came to execution… sometimes she had mixed results. She wasn't terrible but she certainly wasn't the best either.

And it had been opening night, and unfortunately, Christine made several mistakes. They were subtle and probably no one noticed, but she did and it was why she chose to stay late to practice before the next performance. Everyone else left to celebrate, even Meg, and when she told Raoul what she planned to do… he wasn't exactly thrilled but he begged her not to stay too late.

He would have stayed, but he had a deposition in the morning and needed to do some prep work beforehand. Christine was rather glad he left. She could concentrate a lot better alone, and sadly, Raoul wouldn't be able to provide much feedback or criticism. Of course, he had said she deserved a break since she was staying late on most nights to rehearse.

But he didn't understand.

This was her career. If she wanted to last long here and perhaps eventually get moved up to a minor role… she would have to practice, practice, practice, and practice.

Christine was a dedicated performer and she wasn't going to let a few errors mess her up.

Yet, this dance was becoming more elusive and her temper was running short. So she decided that she would practice a couple of the songs before calling it a night. She was tired and the last thing she wanted to do was walk home when she could collapse from exhaustion.

Clearing her throat, she ran through a quick scale and was getting ready to begin when laughter interrupted her.

Her first impulse was to hide. Everyone was supposed to be gone and the last thing she wanted to do was get into trouble, even if she was only practicing.

Christine ducked behind the curtain just as she saw a man and a woman stumbling drunk down the aisle. She squinted and immediately recognized the white mask.

Mr. Trussler.

Her eyes widened in astonishment. If the boss saw her… but somehow if she had remained on the stage, he probably wouldn't have noticed her. Not while he was engrossed with his "date".

"This is my theatre! My pride and joy," he said, sweeping his arm across the empty stage. "This is where the music comes alive."

"Oh yeah… I can feel it coming alive all right," the over-the-top, mini skin tight dress blonde said as her hand grasped his crouch.

Christine had to resist the urge to vomit at the disgusting display, but quickly scolded herself as to why should she care. He was her boss and whatever he did in his personal life and time… was absolutely none of her business. And she couldn't believe she was watching.

She closed her eyes and waited as they tripped and laughed away. At least they had the decency to go to his office or someplace instead of in the open.

Thank God for small miracles.

Christine came out from behind the curtain and hopped off the stage to grab her jacket and purse, which she placed in one of the chairs. Luckily, neither one of them noticed her belongings.

Throwing her jacket over her arm and hooking her purse over her shoulder, Christine began to make a quick getaway. She was almost at the door when she realized she didn't have her phone.

"Damn!" She looked around to see if she was in the clear and sprinted back to the auditorium. The dimmed lights made it difficult to see and she got down on her knees as she patted the ground for the missing phone.

"Looking for something?"

Christine jumped out of her skin. "Jesus!" She looked behind and there was Erik Trussler standing more than a few feet away with her cell in his hand.

"I believe you left this."

Christine could only stare stupidly, not sure if this was actually happening. Since the moment she started working here, Erik Trussler had only appeared briefly to watch over rehearsals before disappearing to God knows where. He was aloof and mysterious in person rather than what was portrayed by the media. The only people who had more contact with the cast were his partner, Nadir Khan, and Mr. Andre and Firmin. Rumor had it that Erik Trussler would be returning to New York City soon and Christine had been hoping for a chance to work more with the famous composer.

He was her idol and she had seen every one of his operas, even going so far to memorize his librettos. It had been a dream of hers to star in one of his operas. His music was unlike any of the other composers she grew up with. And she grew up with all of the classics.

Her father, Gus, was a violinist and a member of the Detroit Symphony Orchestra. Before he joined them, he had traveled around playing in various concert halls and theatres around the world. He was known in certain circles and could have made more of a name for himself, but Gus Daaé did not care about fame. The music was the only thing that mattered and when he learned his wife was pregnant, he had returned to Detroit and stayed when Christine was born. Sadly, her mother died in childbirth so it was just Gus and his little girl.

Christine remembered how whenever the orchestra was on hiatus, Gus would take her to different countries where he would play with his old friends. She loved listening to them and it exposed her to all various types of music. Then when her father became sick… traveling had to cease.

It was then she discovered Erik Trussler's music. That had helped her cope with the bad days and if it was possible… it would ease the pain Gus suffered. Her father had a deep admiration for the young composer, although his lifestyle was less desirable. But Gus never stopped encouraging his daughter to sing and believed that she would one day be in one of Erik Trussler's operas.

When Gus died, Christine was ever the more determined to make that dream a reality. At last, all that hard work paid off and here she was in an empty theatre with the flesh and blood Erik Trussler standing in front of her, dangling her cell phone in the air like a tempting treat.

His smirk was smug and his eyes were doing their own assessment on her person as she rose. His wolfish grin grew wider when her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

He was certainly attractive—devilishly so—that Christine couldn't remember if that was the case during her audition. He had hardly looked at her and she didn't really get that good of a look, except for the glaring white mask.

Now…

He was a sinful temptation with his short wavy jet black hair that looked soft to the touch; the hard, chiseled chin and very smooth cheek with the lean and well tone shape of his body, judging from the appearance of his sharp black tuxedo. Yet, it was his eyes that captured Christine. They were an unusual color—almost iridescent—with flecks of gold in the turquoise orbs. Completely mesmerizing and demanding with a single look that it was no wonder that many women had fallen for him. Those eyes could make a woman's knees buckle.

However, Christine kept her calm as she opened her hand. "Thank you for finding my phone. May I have it?"

"I don't know… it depends."

His voice was pure rich, silky goodness, which should have her toes curling… yet, she was quickly growing irritated.

"Just give me my phone so I can leave."

The visible brow lifted, shocked that his charm didn't seem to rub off on her. "Give me a good reason seeing that you are trespassing."

"I'm not trespassing," Christine retorted with indignation. "I was practicing because I wasn't happy with my performance during the show tonight. Well, I was until I was interrupted."

"Oh?" He appeared amused and not at all perturbed at her insinuation. "Pretty dedicated I take it."

"Much so," she replied. "And it's growing late and I would like to go home. If you will hand me my phone, then I can be off on my merry way."

"Let me see."

She gaped. "Excuse me?"

"You said you were practicing due to your unhappy performance. I want to watch you to see what it was."

"Sorry," she said. "My time is over and I know my boyfriend is going to get extremely worried if I'm not home. Besides, I think you should get back to your friend."

The moment those words left her mouth, Christine mentally winced. The last thing she wanted to do was piss her boss off, especially a powerful one like Erik Trussler. However, it did nothing of the sort and he actually chuckled. Chuckled!

"I cannot argue with you on that one. Here you go." He handed the proffered cell over and Christine snatched it from his fingers.

"Thank you," she said stiffly and turned to walk away. She didn't look back once, wanting to keep her composure. She couldn't believe what happened and that she spoke to the Erik Trussler. Never mind the fact he was flirting with her… she couldn't believe she said what she said. It was a sure way to get on his bad side and maybe even make it less likely for a promotion.

Come again… he never asked for her name and she never gave it. Plus, his breath reeked of alcohol. There was a very high probable chance he won't remember this or her.

Never had Christine felt so relieved in her whole life.

He'll forget me completely. I bet he forgot me already. That's right… he's in his office with that slut and the last thing on his mind is that a brown-haired girl with the cell phone.

xXx

The next day Erik Trussler showed up at the morning meeting.

This inspired whispers amongst the crowd since he rarely appeared at these gatherings. However, last night was opening night and it was only natural he would come to tell them what he thought about the performance.

And he did. He spoke in very explicit detail what he thought, what the shortcomings were, who sung off-key, who missed a choreographed step, costume mishaps, etc. He not only covered the cast, but also the pit as to the keeping of the instruments and the backstage crew handling the props and lights.

When all was said and done, he added one more thing:

"Despite the poor excuse at an attempt to sing opera that was, at least one of you had the initiative to recognize the faults and worked at getting it corrected. That is dedication and if you want to survive working in my theatre… then you must always be willing to go the extra mile, even if is staying here hours past while everyone else is celebrating a mediocre show. I want to see more gumption or else some of you might be looking for other means of employment. And you know exactly who you are whom I'm referring to. So before we go on later tonight… I want everyone to get on this stage and sing like your very life depends upon it. Music is passion and the passion will be felt by the audience if the cast and crew can get their acts together and do it right."

Everyone was silent during his speech, but the reprimand was sincerely felt throughout and already resulted in some people reevaluating how they did the other night.

Of course, Christine was trying to ignore the fact that it was she that stayed late to practice when several others around her were whispering as to who Mr. Trussler was talking about.

"Wow…" Meg murmured. "I never thought what a complete jackass he can be. But he is still has that sexy aura about him."

"Well, I think some of those comments were uncalled for," Christine said back. "I mean just saying you need to work harder would have sufficed."

"Yeah but it's not as strong or effective," Meg replied.

They were soon dismissed. As everyone separated to their respective posts, Christine made a point to stay clear from Erik Trussler as she got up on stage to stretch alongside the other chorus members. If he remembered her late night rehearsal, then he might remember what she looked like.

And what she said.

Keeping her back to him, she tried to blend in with the others and nonchalantly kept an eye on him to make sure he didn't look her way. He was moving away with Mr. Khan and Christine felt herself relaxed. Now, she could focus more on the scene and as she stood to the side waiting for her cue, she felt a tapping at her shoulder and when she turned around…

There was Erik Trussler.

The color immediately drained from her face.

This seemed to amuse him and he (not at all discrete) said, "Could you come with me for a moment? Carry on without her for now."

Christine swallowed hard as she quietly obeyed, walking behind him. She knew all eyes were on her and it only made her stomach feel queasier than it did.

Oh God…

He didn't take her far. They were very well within the eyesight of the whole crew, but his voice dropped a few octaves so only Christine could hear.

"Mr. Trussler, I—" she started to say, hoping an apology might get her back in his good graces, but he interrupted her.

"I wasn't kidding what I said earlier. If you want to work your way to the top, then you need to work on improving yourself. And I must say… you impressed me. You continue with the same determination and you might find yourself one day in that leading role."

Christine was flabbergasted. Did he say what she thought he said? As she replayed what he said, she almost missed his next words.

"…I want you to stay tonight after the show."

"I'm s-sorry?" she asked.

"Tonight," he replied slowly. "After the show, I want you to stay after like you did yesterday. I promise I will not keep you out late. Is that clear?"

Christine didn't know what to say. What did one say to that? And what did he mean by not keeping her out too late?

But he didn't give her the opportunity to answer.

He nodded in agreement and said, "Excellent. Be here on that stage and we will go from there."

Just like that he dismissed her, turning to head back to his office.

Christine continued to stand there, not sure what the Hell had occurred. The first moment of reality came when Meg ran up to her, shaking her arm.

"Christine? Christine! What did Mr. Trussler want?"

"I… I don't know."

Meg frowned. "What do you mean you don't know? You were speaking to him weren't you?"

"Yes, but…" Christine shook her head. "Never mind. We have to practice before tonight."

As rehearsal continued, Christine couldn't help the nervous feeling from returning. What was going to await her later that night?

xxXXxx

Present Time

Tried hard as he might, Erik couldn't remember Christine at all. He apologized the next morning and she gently brushed it off.

"I didn't think you would. I guess we looked at it differently."

"What differently?" he asked.

She gave him a knowing smile. "Well, I'll give you a clue. After all, you kept me in suspense for a whole day wondering why in the world would you ask me to stay late after a show. I was the girl who left her cell phone in the theatre, although I suspect you took it knowing I would come back."

And with that cryptic statement, Christine disappeared.

Damn, Erik thought. Whatever I did… I know we didn't have sex. I would remember that.

So what was it?

TBC…