Disclaimer: No, I'm not a fan, I'm secretly Leroux returned from the dead.

Warning: A bit of E/C sexy time in this chapter, simply because they need it. Nothing too explicit though.

Chapter 20: Deja Vu

As soon as she returned home, Christine ran up the stairs to her husband's study. Erik's study was on the third floor of the house, next to their bedroom. As she entered, she saw Tempest stretched out on the desk over Erik's scattered papers, lazily licking a white paw. Erik did not notice her entrance, engrossed by his work.

A building was coming to life on the page. The stick of graphite, wielded within the architect's long fingers, danced madly upon the sheet of paper. Christine smiled fondly at him from the doorway, her heart tugging in a pleasant way. The sight of him after a hard day never failed to brighten her spirits. "Hello." She called softly.

His head shot up. He had obviously been completely mesmerized in his work. Even ghosts do let down their guard at times. Erik leaned back in his chair at the sight of Christine. She looked a little flustered, a few strands of rich mahogany curls escaped from her chignon. He could never get enough of the way she looked at him. He has long since accepted that she loved him, but even then the naked emotion in her eyes affected him so.

Erik gracefully rose from his chair and walked around the desk as Christine entered the room. He met her halfway across the study. Their mouths met sweetly with the joy of reunion. Erik tenderly cupped her jaw with his bony hands. Christine's weariness was momentarily banished by the refreshing kiss.

"How is my little primma donna?" Erik asked with his lilting voice.

She sighed and hugged Erik in response, wanting nothing but to hold him close. "That bad?" He murmured. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She knew that she had to tell him, but couldn't find the words to.

"Do you want to talk to me about it?"

"Just having one of those days where nothing seems to go right." Christine shrugged, faking nonchalance. "I'm fine." She forced a brave smile onto her face and stepped back. "Can you go riding with me?" I'll tell him when we're riding. She promised to herself. Being around horses seemed to relax them both.

"Christine, it's dark outside." He raised an eyebrow. He was right; it was nearing midnight.

"It's a starry night."

"It's cold."

"It could take my mind off things." She protested. "Come on, Erik, we both need a break from work." She said coyly, but Erik sensed a falter in her seemingly carefree mien. There was something troubling her, like a dark undertone to a piece of music, concealed but not quite absent.

Erik relented. "If my primma donna insists." He squeezed her hand. "Why don't you go and get changed? I'll meet you at the stables."

Fifteen minutes later, Christine had saddled up her Aria. Erik was on his stallion Iago. Christine was right: despite the absence of the moon, the inky heavens were dotted with sparkling specks of light, illuminating the grounds. Almost immediately she urged her horse into a canter. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, sharpening her senses. Under the limited light, the darkened shadows seemed more pronounced. The scent of fresh grass was acute. The wind that whipped past her face was bitingly chilly. The rocking motion of the horse under her was familiar and exciting at once. The thought of Raoul faded from her mind, as though physical distance could rid her mind of him.

Feeling more carefree than she had been in a while, Christine challenged: "I'll race you to the pond!"

"I'm certain that I will win." Erik retorted. Iago had the advantage in strength and size, but the mare, despite her smaller build, was nimble and sure-footed. Erik watched Christine as she rode. Her mare's pale gray coat was almost glowing in the starlight. Her wild curls, free of their confines, bounced as she rode. She was at one with her horse, pulsing with power.

"Erik, I'm about to get there!" She called, bringing him out of his daze. He urged Iago to catch up with Christine.

As they neared the large pond, Christine dismounted and pulled her mare over to the water to let her drink. Erik, too, slipped nimbly from Iago's back.

Breathless, Christine was grinning in exuberance as she locked her eyes with Erik's. Her cheeks were rosy from the ride, her chest rising and falling with each deep breath. Her eyes were alight, bright and sparkling like the stars above them.

"My beautiful…" The murmured words slipped from his tongue without his noticing it. She ducked her head, the blush deepening as she busied herself with patting her mare's neck and bestowing praise on the creature. Through dark lashes, she snuck a glance at Erik.

Chuckling to himself, Erik drew Iago up next to Aria, allowing his horse to drink. The starlight was reflected on the water, the waves throwing shimmering light upon their faces.

Christine's hushed words spoke exactly what Erik had been thinking. "This looks like the clearing you showed me, with the lake, when we first came to England… where we danced." The clearing where she revealed to him that she was with child. Once again, her conscience pricked at her to remind her that this time, there was yet another secret she should admit to him.

He smiled at her, the half-smile she treasured so. "May I have a dance, Madame?"

"Oui, Monsieur." She returned with a teasing smile as she placed her hand in his. Her other hand came to rest at his shoulder, and his was at the small of her back, pulling her closer to him. They swayed slowly to match the rhythm of their heartbeats. Reflected by the lake, the luster of the stars was twice as luminous. The water threw silvery strands of light around the clearing. Their glow was bright as lightning yet soft as candlelight.

Christine's porcelain skin was illuminated by the light. The smooth curves of her sweet face, her delicate hands. Erik's disfigurement was painfully clear in the starlight, exaggerating every unnatural dent and bulge. Christine's loving gaze took in every familiar detail of his face. There was no trace fear or disgust in those indigo eyes now. Only understanding, and acceptance, and love.

"Thank you." He murmured. "For being so willing to accept me. For learning to see past this monstrosity."

She smiled, a soft breath escaping her. "I've told you many times; your face holds no horror for me." Her fingertips ghosted down his scarred cheek. "You're so insecure, Erik." She teased lightly, resting her palm on his right jaw and rubbing her thumb lightly over his malformed cheek.

He let out a low, throaty chuckle. "I'm not insecure; I'm just aware of the fact that you are so much more than I deserve and I'm sure you know it too."

Christine was about to tease him about how she's had other suitors, but the taunt died on her tongue as soon as she thought of Raoul and his parting words.

Erik's brow furrowed as he saw how the mirthful sparkle faded from her eyes and the cloud of worry darkened her face. "You know you can tell me anything that's bothering you."

She nodded, still hesitant. She uttered a word; her terrible answer: "Raoul." The name, almost forgotten but forever present in the deepest recesses of his mind. It sent a flame of burning anger and blinding possessiveness over his entire being.

"What about the boy?" His voice was calm. A mask.

She looked at him, her face open. "He came to my dressing room."

He stiffened, and now her arms were around his immobile body, comforting him with her warm embrace, caressing his cheek. "You know that I love you." She breathed. Her pleading eyes begged him to believe her. And it was impossible not to, not when they shone with sincerity as bright as the stars.

When his motionless form flawed, it was almost inhuman in its fluidity. He crushed her to him and she welcomed it, wanting nothing but for him to hold her close and tell her that he believed her. "Yes, I know it." His fingers twisted into her curls. "I know that the boy has no hold on you now, that not even a sliver of your heart belongs to him." He was convincing his own heart that Christine wouldn't forget about him, this decaying old corpse, at the sight of the boy's handsome face.

She kissed the base of his throat; an intimate gesture. "I'm yours, Erik; yours and no one else's." Every cadence, every syllable that fell from her lips, reminded him that she was his – her voice alone was proof of that.

He relaxed, his arms falling to frame her body. "This was the night of the premier?" When he finally spoke, he sounded wearied.

Christine nodded, her curls brushing his chest and chin. "And he came to find me again today. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you earlier." She added in remorse.

"Why didn't you?" He tried to hide how hurt he felt by her concealment. But the raw emotion bled through his attempt at nonchalance. The sadness in his voice gripped Christine's heart tightly in a vice she recognized as guilt.

"I thought..." She tucked a loosened strand of hair behind her ear. "I thought that if his visit were a one-time occurrence, I could pretend that it didn't happen. That he hadn't barged into our lives again. And I suppose that I was a foolish child to think that I'm strong enough to handle the matter myself!" She scoffed at her own actions. "It was stupid and immature to want to prove myself like that."

"Christine!" Erik admonished. "Did you honestly think that you are weak?" He framed her face with his large palms and artistically long fingers. She blinked in surprise at the sudden change in his attitude. "Do you think that a weak woman could make the same choices you made? You had the courage to leave the promise of a safe and proficient life, for the sake of love. You have the strength to defy the rules set by our society. You dared to look beyond the surface and find goodness in me." Erik's eyes burned with the golden fire of a heavenly being. "Christine, you are anything but weak. And you have no one to prove it to."

Christine gave Erik a watery smile, not trusting herself to speak, for fear of being betrayed by her tears.

"I can't believe you think of yourself like that." Erik murmured, cradling her face in his hands. "And I was supposed to be the one with self-esteem issues."

"I'm more insecure than you might think." Christine gave a low chuckle. She then fell silent as Erik released her. Silently, the couple sat on the grass and looked over the pond, which shimmered with reflected starlight. A breeze danced across it's surface, stirring the colours so that they flowed and swirled like a fantasy sky on a canvas.

"Ironic, isn't it," Erik said. "That it should be /Hannibal/ that sets everything in motion once again."

She sighed; a mournful sound. "That was the night everything went wrong, wasn't it?" She snuck a glance at Erik. "You showed me that you're not an angel; and as luck would have it I met Raoul again on that night."

"That boy!" Erik's hands curled unconsciously into fists. "If he hadn't come along and charmed to with his good looks, everything would have been perfect. I wouldn't have done what I did – scared you away into his arms; forced you to make that impossible choice…" He trailed off, anguish and remorse painfully clear in his expression.

"It worked out in the end, though." Christine squeezed his hand. "I realized – thankfully before I married – that I love you."

"But now it's coming back to haunt us. Raoul won't be satisfied with any explanation you give him of your sudden disappearance." Erik sighed in remorse. "It was my fault; if I hadn't rushed you into a position where you would accept his proposal, maybe you would have loved me first."

"Yes, Erik, my childish fantasies of Prince Charming sweeping me off my feet were all your fault." Christine said sarcastically. "Stop blaming yourself for what happened then! If anything it was my fault; my fault for not realizing my own feelings; my fault for being so conflicted between you and Raoul." She exclaimed. "But anyway," She said in seriousness. "We should not dwell on the past."

"Oh yes – the problem now is Raoul."

"What should I do about it?" She looked at Erik with wide, frightened eyes. She felt like a child again, having the luxury of the inexperience of youth to ask her mentor and Angel for help.

She looked so vulnerable. Erik was reminded of how young Christine really was, despite of how mature she was. At only nineteen she was still a child in many ways. "Try to avoid him." Erik suggested. "I'll come with you to the theatre tomorrow night and if he does come to your dressing room I'll show him that you are mine." His hand tightened around her wrist possessively. He drew her towards him and kissed her possessively.

She angled her head to kiss him more deeply. One of his hands were tangled into her curls behind her head. The other cupped her jaw to secure her lips against his. Her own hands were moving of their own accord to grasp the front of his poet's shirt. Her hands pressed against his chest, trailing over every prominent rib. And then they were tugging the shirt clumsily over his head. His fingers moved to her spine and unlaced her dress with nimble ease. The blue dress was slipped off her shoulders. She lifted her arms to let it fall to her feet. All that mattered was Erik, worshipping her with his mouth, kissing her like there was no tomorrow.

Her bare shoulders and chemise were drenched in a sudden downpour. A rumble of thunder rang, the ominous harbinger to the coming storm. Christine made a sound halfway between a shriek and a giggle. Erik, too, was laughing as he became soaked. Christine threw her arms around Erik's neck and kissed him. As he was a great deal taller than her, he lifted her off the ground to lengthen their kiss.

As he pulled back to gaze into her face, his eyes were filled with adoration. "You are mad, my angel." He breathed before taking her mouth with his own once again. There was something sensual and thrilling about kissing in the rain. He tasted the rain on his tongue, mingling with the sweet floral flavor that was purely Christine. Her eyes were bright as she pulled back.

"We should return." Erik rested her on the ground lightly. "I don't want you catching a cold." Despite her reluctance to end the moment, Christine knew that Erik was right. So she quickly slipped back into the bodice of her dress. Erik pulled his shirt over his head. The thin white fabric had become translucent as it wetted and it clung to Erik's gaunt frame.

They mounted their horses and raced back to the house. Lightning would momentarily wash their surroundings in a flash of harsh light. Claps of thunder were terrifyingly loud and close. Above their heads, storm clouds rolled ominously.

A/N: Well, I hope you enjoyed the fluff as much as I did.

Preview for a review :D