Disclaimer:

All Phantom characters are not mine, though, as I've said in other stories, I'd have absolutely no problem being owned by Erik.

Author's Note:

This chapter took a very different turn than I expected it to, but I can't deny the muses their wishes. So, I hope nobody wants to kill me for the fact that the usual theatricality of this scene just doesn't exist here. Please please, review and let me know what you think, because I confess, the way this one went made me just a bit nervous.

IX

The audition came and went, and as was to be expected, my dearest stunned her audience leaving no question that the lead role would be hers. So too passed her opening night, the night we both will forever say was her first and greatest triumph, and now here I stood, with all the nervousness of a school boy waiting behind her mirror for the chance I had been dreaming about for what seemed as an age—the chance to reveal my true self to her.

The dressing room door opened suddenly, and I stood rigid, waiting for the sight of her slender form to cross its threshold. As soon as she did, I realized one very frustrating detail, she was not alone. There he stood, the vis-count Raoul de Chagny, leading her into the chamber as though she belonged to him.

"Raoul, please," She begged, "I have no desire to go to dinner with you or the management tonight. I am exhausted, and I will require rest."

My little diva was playing right into my hands, and I could not have been happier. She knew I waited, if for nothing more than to congratulate her, and she clearly had no interest in the nobleman's company. I reconciled myself to allowing her the luxury of dealing with his advances herself until the point they became out of hand and leaned casually against the inner mirror frame to wait.

"Now Lotte," he chided as though speaking to a child, "You cannot deny so many people the chance to congratulate you. You truly sang like an angel tonight."

At the use of the word angel, she flinched slightly, and I became keenly aware of the way her dark eyes flicked to my hiding place.

"Easy chere, easy." I purred right into her ear, "Your angel is not angry with you. Agree to go with him and tell him that you must change, and I will take care of the rest. Do nothing to show you have heard me."

"Very well Raoul," she growled tiredly—a sound which forced me to restrain my own growl of desire for her, "I will go with you this once, but I must change first."

He took both of her hands in excited glee, and a growl of a very different sort threatened to betray my hiding place.

"I knew you would see reason Lotte," he said smiling at her approvingly.

"It is not reason Raoul, it is simply to quiet you. Now go, and I will meet you in the foyer in an hour."

Giving her a somewhat dejected look, he left the dressing room closing the door softly behind him. I watched her without a word as she glided to that same door, turned the key in the lock, and came back to kneel before the mirror.

"You are no angel?" she asked me quietly, but her question bore the nature of someone who already knew the answer.

"What is it that makes you say so ma voix?" I asked gently.

I will not deny, in these pages, that her question had caught me off my guard, but at the time, I refused to let her know it. It was very possible that she was only questioning, only doubting, and if that were the case, I would not allow her to discover my truth until I wished it discovered.

"You told me to lie to him," she stated matter of factly, "And you are jealous. These are not ways angels behave."

I had every intension of telling her something, anything to get her away from this way of thinking, but in that moment, I realized there was nothing I could say. Our little game was over, and if she truly wished to remain with me or not, this was the moment of truth.

I opened the mirror door slowly, regally, and stepped in front of her letting my dark cloak pool around me. She gasped a little, and I fought hard not to flinch away as I had so often done with that reaction.

"Non Christine, je ne suis pas un ange, je m'appel Erik."

"Erik…" she let my name roll about her tongue, her voice barely a whisper, and I knew in that moment I was lost. "I knew," she said quietly, "Somehow I knew, or, at least, I hoped."

"You hoped," I asked her nearly breathless.

"Night after night," she began, "I dreamt of you, of what it would feel like to rest in your arms after our lessons, of the peace that your voice could bring me as I did, but you were an angel who could never take human form, thus, my dreams were only that… dreams. Now, here you stand, telling me that you are no angel but mortal man and that my dreams may not be dreams any longer. Still though, I have questions, and I must meet Raoul soon or risk him coming here. What am I to do Maestro?" she asked desperately.

The laugh that had risen up in my throat at the word mortal died very quickly when I realized, once again, the precarious nature of her situation and my own. Exactly what I needed, for the management, as a result of the lust of a stupid boy, to find out that the imfamous Opera ghost was nothing more than a man, besotted with their new leading soprano.

"It will seem like a foolish question Christine, but can you trust me, at least, for now?" I asked her gravely.

"What do you mean?" she asked trembling slightly in her fear.

"If you can trust me, there is a place I can take you where you may sleep—I shall not touch you while you do—and we can discuss things more in the morning."

Her fear was overtaking her, that much would have been certain to anyone, but she nodded weakly.

"The way is long," I began slowly, "And the dangers immense. If you will allow me, I will carry you down."

"Down?" she asked, her delicate eyebrows raised with the question.

"Beneath the theater," I answered softly, doing my best not to frighten her more, "To my home."

She wanted to say more, to ask me a thousand questions, but she did not. She simply nodded, allowing me to lift her into my arms and carry her silently through the mirror.

As I look back now on that first journey, I realize how little I remember. The first half passed in silence, and I thought briefly that my little Christine may have fallen asleep in my arms, exhausted from her performance.

"So cold… so dark," she whimpered meekly.

"Shhhh chere, you will be warm soon enough," I promised her as I removed my cloak and wrapped her tightly in it.

The rest of the way truly did pass in silence then, though a silence occasionally broken as I quietly sang for her, reminding her of her warmth and safety, and it was then that I realized she had fallen to sleep.

I thought perhaps the movement of the boat crossing the lake would have woken her, but still, she never moved.

"Sleep my darling," I cooed softly as I finally lay her down in the bed I had prepared for her, "I will guard your dreams."