hey, sorry, been a while again...

its a bit longer this time... enjoy!!!

Chapter 21

The lights came up, Christine trembling behind the red curtain, nerves wracking her body. She went over the dances in her head, over and over, her eyes wide despite the lack of sleep she had had that night. Adrenaline was rushing through her veins, causing her to feel as high as the clouds as she stood in position.

She heard the chatter of the public behind the curtain, and her heart beat hard behind her ribcage. It was finally time, her first performance on this stage in front of a full theatre. She willed her breathing to calm and her shaking to still as the curtain opened and the music began. She felt the music seep into her bones, and her heart slowed slightly, keeping the beat. She lost herself in the dance, left, right... the routine calming her and the belief she knew what she was doing causing her smile to brighten the stage.

She was partnered up with Meg for a small amount of the dance, and she saw an identical smile on her friend's face as she danced naturally and calmly – though they had both been panicking the night before. Her blonde hair was styled on top of her head, like Christine's brown locks, and it looked beautiful when the light shone on it – causing it to look golden.

And then she was gone, to another part of the dance, and the second of eye contact was quickly forgotten as they both strained to complete the correct movements, while remaining calm and happy.

Carlotta's clear voice, past its prime, but still a pleasure to behold... most of the time, rang through the auditorium. Her large ego was obvious in the way she held herself, as more important than anyone either on stage or in the audience. She strutted round the stage, singing the right words, but getting in the way of the chorus girls, so Christine had to improvise a couple of times to get out of her way – and then continue. But she was used to that, because she had walked a different path through them every time they had practised it.

As the first scene came to a close, Christine and Meg floated offstage with the rest of the chorus girls and as soon as they were out of sight, looked at each other with huge grins. The full auditorium had set off the adrenaline pumping in their veins and there was no going back now – they were in the business.

Erik sat in his customary box – Box 5 – and watched the opening night of the Opera. Christine had been talking about it, and her voice had shaken yesterday with nerves when they attempted a lesson (it didn't work out in the end). He had been unable to tell her off about the state of her voice when he saw her brown orbs glistening with nerves and excitement, but he called off the lesson, and they just talked.

Now, as he sat, looking down at the stage, watching her loose herself in the music and float round the stage, he felt a surge of pride and found himself smiling once more, something he'd seemed to do a lot more since the small girl had walked in those doors. She seemed as much a professional as the girls round her, who had more experience. She was more passionate – by far, and he found himself lost in the movements... until Carlotta started the chorus, and he winced as she hit a flat note.

As the play progressed, Erik forgot about staying hidden – as the Opera Ghost, he was supposed to be invisible. But he sat forwards, watching the stage with intent eyes, a black shadow seen occasionally when a chorus girl looked up.

He didn't notice her pale.

His angel is all that he sees, her body swaying in time to the music, a tendril of her hair escaping from its style as she follows the steps to the exact place – except for when he curses Carlotta for getting in the way of her perfectly smooth rendition. He sighed inaudibly when she left the stage, and found himself smiling as she re-entered.

Unknown by him, the Phantom of the Opera was being watched...

Antoinette Giry knew he sat in that box, but she had never seen him in it before. A black shape was all she saw, but it was enough to know that he had let his guard down for some reason, and she couldn't fathom it at first... until she remembered catching Christine singing in an empty room. The child hadn't seen her there, and she had wondered what was happening – and how she could suddenly sing immensely better than when she had arrived... she could have sworn she'd heard another voice, but had put it aside as a figment of her imagination... and now she put two and two together...

And frowned.

*****

Erik smiled as the opera reached its finale, and wrote the last note (it wouldn't do to shirk his duties now, would it?). He then clapped along with the rest of the crowd, something he rarely did, and rose from his seat, just now feeling the prickling on the back of your neck you get when you're being watched. His eyes snapped to the crowd, easily picking out the person who wasn't looking at the stage.

Antoinette Giry.

Their eyes met over the distance, and Erik noted the hostility in that glance, his defences immediately snapped up – he had forgotten himself, in his watching of the Opera, he had let himself be seen. His cape swirled as he fled from the box, to contemplate his new laxity. He frowned as he re-entered his dark world, his mind full of thoughts.

His feet made no noise as he passed through the passageways that he thought of as home – the only place he had ever felt the slightest bit safe. He was strong, he was powerful.

He fingered the rope his always held at his belt, in case of any necessary violence. His coarse fingers ran over the natural bumps in the strong material, reassuring him.

I am strong.

I am in charge.

I am NOT weak.

I can beat anyone and anything.

His worried look turned more comfortable, his eyes accustomed to the darkness at a speed that only years of living in it could achieve. He was the one in charge, and he would NOT feel weakness.

That was the only thought that kept him going nowadays, or rather, before Christine.

Her worming her way into his heart was gradual, and he didn't even notice it... until it was too late, and there was no going back.

Was it weakness to fall in love?

*****

Antoinette Giry was nervous.

She knew Erik. Probably better than anyone else.

But...

And there is always a but...

She knew him, which meant she knew his temper... and knew his feelings, and knew his habits... well some of them anyway...

And she also knew Christine.

And she knew that she was young, impressionable.

Had he already made an impression?

She knew that Erik and Christine were like... like Hot and Cold.

Day and Night.

Right and Wrong.

They are drawn to each other, perhaps through their mutual love for music... but it would never be enough, and it could never work out. Because day and night are too different. Like Light and Dark – Christine lived in the light. Erik lived in the dark.

That was enough to know it couldn't work.

Christine couldn't live in his world. She needed friends and family and light and the stage – it was in her blood – and he would never be enough.

So that's why she was creeping down the dark, stingy passageway that led to the lake. And then she would go through the passage to Erik's home, even if she was wrong.

Because she cared too much... about both of them.

And she knew it would break both of their hearts if this continued. At this stage it was impossible to tell who would hurt more. Christine had a good heart, and she could help, and she could stay. But she would never be happy in the dark, and it would break her heart... and knowing Erik, that would in turn cause his to break.

Then there was Erik. So complex, yet so simple.

His childhood was troubled, that much was obvious, even if all she knew was the little boy she had seen in the cage, his eyes like wells, deep and never-escaping... but full of darkness.

And fear.

His parents didn't seem to be the loving kind. She had heard him yell from the other side of the lake, when she had used to come down here ever so often. But the nightmares had softened, as his subconscious worked to rid him of his fears... to lock out the hateful memories.

And she so wanted to help him.

He would latch onto anything that would love him, like he had once latched onto her. But she had not been there. If she had, perhaps things would have been different. But they weren't, and he had turned to Christine.

But he also had an explosive temper, and that could be dangerous, for Christine. She wasn't strong enough to cope with him, and he didn't realise that. She would be scared. And if she left, then Erik would be shattered. Again.

So she stared out across the lake, and heard the notes of a song drift across, played on the violin. The music brought tears to her eyes as she felt it dance around her. She pressed the knob in the wall and entered the tunnel.

*****

Erik was lost in his playing when he heard the alarm. Someone was coming along his tunnel. He had managed to tune the alarms into his ears when he was playing, when he was lost to the world, they would manage to throw him into it.

He lowered the instrument into the case, and turned to meet his visitor, his hand going immediately to the rope on his belt.

He saw Antoinette enter, and his hand relaxed.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, his pack straight, his eyes cold.

But there was a slight wish in them that things had happened differently.

*****

Antoinette looked round Erik's house. She saw the pile of music on the organ, her keen eyes reading the name 'Christine' on the black cover. Her fears were confirmed and she faced Erik. Not to hurt. Not to harm, but to try and help. To save him.

She took a deep breath.

"I know about Christine." She told him, getting straight to the point. His eyebrows raised, and he cocked his head.

"You know I have been teaching her." He asked, "Well that's a bit slow, I must say, Antoinette, I have been teaching her for many years now." Antoinette's eyes widened, but she did not let her shock show any other way.

"And how do you feel about her?" she demanded, nowhere near him in height, but her stance was commanding, and her eyes fiery.

Erik drew himself up straight.

"What's it to you?" he asked, but his heart was racing. He hadn't let it show? That could be disastrous. He took a deep breath, to repeat his demand

"I said-" he began, but Antoinette interrupted him

"I heard what you said." She told him "And surely you know everything that happens in this place." Her tone was icy. "And you should know I care about her as my own child. And I will protect her from anything."

Erik's eyes flashed "Are you saying I'm a threat?!" His voice had risen to a forte.

Antoinette took a step forwards.

"Erik!" she matched his tone. "You know I care about you, but I know you."

Erik interrupted "are you threatening me?" he asked her.

Antoinette shook her head, and ploughed on "And I know Christine."

Erik took a step forward also, bringing them face to face.

"And?" he demanded softly, his visible face as masklike as the white alabaster that covered a third of it. His voice was quiet and threatening, and Antoinette found herself taking a step back. She turned her face, and walked away a few steps, and ran her fingers through her hair. She turned to face him, a pained expression on her face.

"Erik, please!" she begged, "It would never work! You and her." She wasn't looking him in the eye anymore, but had started pacing back and forth, waving her arms.

"You're complete opposites, you could never make her live in a place such as this" she threw her arms around, showing the room. "You live in darkness, and she is a creature of light."

She looked him in the eyes then, and immediately wished she hadn't. There was a smouldering fire there, and she paused in her rant, her own eyes widening. Her mouth opened several times, no sound emitting from it. She shook her head.

"You're too old for her." She said. "she's young enough to be your daughter."

She chanced another look at him, and realised it for the first time. It wasn't the scared little boy she had rescued from the cage of the gypsies standing before her. It wasn't Erik.

It was the Phantom. And he was mad.

"You dare to tell me how to live my life?" his voice was quiet demanding, but as he continued, it quickly grew in a crescendo.

"What do I owe you?" he demanded, his eyes blazing in a cold fire.

"You took me here! I could have gone anywhere, but you take me from one prison to the next. My whole life is darkness, and I have to live with it, because you saw what happens when I try and live in the light. I am caged up, like an animal." His eyes were full of denial.

"And you're wrong about Christine!" he told her, and for a second, Antoinette thought she had assumed wrong.

"I would never submit someone to be with someone like me!" he ranted "To be with someone like THIS!" and he threw his mask off, with such force that it snapped into two pieces where it hit the floor.

Antoinette found she was unafraid of the face, of the deformity she had never hated him for... it was the madness and hatred in his eyes that caused her blood to run cold.

"I would give her everything!" He screamed, spittle flying from his mouth, "Like I have been given NOTHING!" his eyes seemed to well with tears, but it must have been a trick of the light, because the next time Antoinette saw them, they were dry as a bone.

"All my life, nothing." He spoke carefully. "And I do one thing that is human... I fall in love." His voice was calm, but his temper was not, his eyes telling her all she needed to know.

"And you want to take that away from me." His tone was so cold, it gave her shivers, and her voice shook.

"It would just break both of you." She insisted, but he was having none of it.

"Everyone!" he screamed, "Everyone is against me!" he looked hurt, and angry and terribly, terribly mad... she looked at the floor, then back up at him.

He shook with repressed hatred, rage. He had his back turned to her, his head bowed, his fists trembling. His next words were quiet, but were like ice, and fire.

"Go." He whispered, and Antoinette took a step back.

"Erik."

"GO!" he roared, "before I do something we'll both regret." His hand was on his noose.

And Antoinette fled.

Erik watched her go, finally taking a shuddering breath as she left his sight.

His cape swished as he left the dark cavern he called home, and went out into the world.

His hands continued to shake with anger until he felt the unsuspecting victim still under his hands, their eyes wide and empty, where they were so full of fear a moment before.

And The Phantom felt powerful.

And strong.

And Antoinette walked around still, worried about the ones she loved.

I'm in charge.

I will not be weak.

I am the Phantom.

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O.O puppy-dog eyes

Oreal