A/N: Happy New Year everyone! I figured why not start 2015 with another update? So here we have the next installment! Thank you again for everyone taking the time to read and review.

Chapter 25

It was perfect. Too perfect that Erik couldn't believe he hadn't seen the potential until now.

No wonder he suffered his block for as long as he did. The idea for a new opera wasn't right. As much as a part of him wanted to write about Don Juan, he was looking elsewhere for possible material. And why not write what he knew best? His life was as close to an opera as it could be and with some tweaks here and there… he could disguise his real life with fiction. After all, who would believe he was being haunted by a ghost of a singer who had work for him?

The idea came out of the blue one evening. He was sitting at his piano and trying to decide on the score for this one scene when he noticed Christine at the corner of his eye. She was sitting on the couch with one of his books, completely engulfed in whatever story.

The vision was so bizarre yet normal for him that it just clicked.

He instantly grabbed a piece of paper and started jotting down notes for an outline to the story. As he wrote, he could hear the music playing in his head. Drawing arrows to the margins, he added what the emotions should be and what he wanted the music to say in correspondence with the blocking. Song titles for the arias began to appear so he wrote them down as fast as he could so he wouldn't forget.

It was nearly midnight and he had documented at least ten pages for this brand new opera. At last! His Muse had returned!

Excited and eager to share, Erik turned to tell Christine but she was nowhere in sight. The look of disappointment crossed his features, but it was her soft voice behind him that had him brightened once more.

"There you are!" he exclaimed as she stood behind him. "I thought you might have left or something."

"Well, I know you said you didn't like it when I did. But it is getting rather late and you do have to be at the opera house early…"

"That's all right. I have some great news! I defeated my writer's block!"

Her smile was dazzling. "That is wonderful news! So what happens with Don Juan and his Aminta?"

He shook his head. "Forget it. I'm scrapping the project for now. I have a new opera I'm going to write."

"A new one?" she repeated. "But Erik… you spent so long on Don Juan Triumphant. Don't you think you should finish that one before you tackle a new opera?"

"It's waited this long and it can wait again," Erik said firmly. "This one is going to be a lot better and see these notes? I have enough right here to compose at least three—maybe four!—acts. This is it. This is the masterpiece I've been waiting for… And I have you to thank Christine."

"Me?" she echoed. "I'm flattered but how…?"

"Take it and read," he insisted, handing the sheets of papers to her. "Just a fair warning, though. This may sound familiar but I am going to make certain adjustments so it's not too obvious."

Curious, Christine took the papers and started leafing through them. He watched her facial expressions carefully as she turned each new page over, her eyes growing wider with each turn. Finally, she looked up at him.

"Erik…"

"I know. Brilliant, right?" He smirked as he crossed his arms.

"This… you can't," she sputtered. "Christ, Erik this is too close to home. If anyone sees this they are going to see what happened to me in here. Not to mention Raoul… The whole reason he decided not to follow through with the lawsuit is that you found common ground with him and got his permission. This will totally negate that decision and he'll have no choice but to sue your ass off."

He frowned and took the notes from her. "I said I had some adjustments and tweaks to do. Believe me… I'm going to change everything but this opera is not about you Christine. You inspired me, yes, I will admit that. But the rest of this… this is purely fictional and the characters will have no bearing on you or your friends. You have my word on that."

"No matter how you spin it Erik… people who knew me, who knew the case… they will see this as you making a profit from me. I don't want to see you get disheartened if it blows up that's all."

"It won't because I can stay away from the facts. Hell, it's centered on a starving mad artist and a ghost who happens to be haunting his residence. And I'm planning on a love triangle because he has a wife who doesn't know what to do with him and thinks this ghost is all in his head. She doesn't realize that the ghost is real and becomes his salvation as he paints her likeness in his works."

"Yes and he falls in love with the ghost as she will fall in love with him but they can't be with each other. I see the tragedy and romance in it, but Erik…"

"No buts. I can't believe you don't like this. I thought—I thought you would at least like the concept. It's original and fresh and no one has ever done something like this before; at least not with what I have plan for these characters." He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He thought her of all people would support the idea, but he was quickly seeing that he was wrong.

Then again…

Gazing at his notes, he could see why she drew those conclusions and no doubt her ex would do the same.

Growling, Erik began to crinkle the pages with the intent to mold it into a ball and throw it into his fireplace. However, Christine's cool hands stopped him from crumbling it up completely and she took them from him and set them neatly on top of the piano.

"You do have something there," she said quietly. "I really mean it Erik. You do. You're a genius and I have no doubt that this will become another classic for you. In a way, it has the elements of a modernized Gothic tale and since you didn't outline an actual ending… I do want to know how it will end for everyone. But I'm worried what it would do to you if people don't like it. It won't be long before the world knows you're investigating my murder and you will get those who will say that my cold case had an influence on your work."

"So?" he demanded. "A lot of people derive their works from current events and true life situations. This won't be anything different, except this is not you or me. This is someone else's story and it's poignant and full of truths and lies about life and death. This is what will have people keep coming to see my operas and it will inspire them and make them reflect about their own lives. This is music touching the soul and it's the kind of storytelling I have been searching for a long time. Call me selfish but I'm going to write this. This needs to be told."

Christine searched his face, and then nodded. "Very well. You should do it. Besides, this isn't exactly the first ghost love story told. I don't have any right to lay claim to that."

He raised his brow. "Oh really?"

Realizing her faux-pas, Christine quickly covered. "Just look at Patrick Swayze's Ghost. That is a Hollywood classic. And there's The Ghost and Mrs. Muir.Maybe this could be the modern classical opera that people never realized they needed."

"Exactly!" His smile was back and Christine felt herself smiling in return. "Now, I have an overture that needs to be written. Excuse me."

"Of course." Christine stepped away so Erik could sit at his piano and begin again on his new composition. As she watched his shoulders hunch over the keys and heard him humming and mumbling to himself, she couldn't help but the crack in her smile. She never seen him this excited before… well, excited about his work that is. He really found a way around his block that kept him from reaching his true potential yet again. She was happy for him and she wasn't kidding when she told him this could very well be with the modern classical opera that has been missing all this time. Even when she read his notes, she could see the story enfolding and the singer in her was desperate to be the hauntingly lovely soprano that inspired the lonely and tortured artist. It was the perfect role that every soprano would be clawing at the door for it.

But she would never have the chance to be one of those girls.

Yet, that wasn't all that bothered her. No… It was her guilt that was gnawing at her. She shouldn't have allowed things to get out of hand so quickly or easily. Even in his drunken state, she took advantage of him and Erik would be devastated if he ever found out what she did. It didn't matter that he had been an eager participant or that he has been obviously fantasizing about her beforehand. She should have known better, but in that moment of weakness… she wanted to be able to feel again. She wanted to feel like a woman, not a specter.

Well, she got her wish and she couldn't help the inner turmoil now. Not only did she use Erik but also proved Raoul had been right all along. It was one thing to have a crush and know realistically it wasn't going to lead into anything, but to really engage in it when she should have been faithful for when Raoul joined her was heart-shattering. Even though there was the slightest chance that it may not happen with her stuck here, Christine felt she should have waited. Didn't all the heroes and heroines wait for their true loves in the afterlife?

But nothing was ever like the movies. Not even in death.

Erik said Raoul moved on. He has a new girlfriend and while I'm happy he's no longer in pain… I can't help but think how disappointed he will be if he finds out about what I did. We never had the chance to have a life together and eternity should be the time and place to have it. Oh God! What have I done?

And she couldn't deny that part of her was also sad to hear that her fiancé did move on. She knew she couldn't expect him to live his life as a shadow of himself like he had after her death. She would be worried if he hadn't but part of her felt she had no right to go to Erik.

She let out a soft sigh.

Well, for Erik it would only ever be a dream. Another fantasy and nothing more. Even as she listened to his music, her mind replayed what she had said that night:

None of this is real. This is only a dream. What you felt… what you tasted… it was all in your head. It was only a dream. Just a dream.

It was the little push in his entranced slumber that allowed her to convince him it wasn't real. As long as he believed that then she could go on pretending like it never happened.

Until then, there was his new opera. She could only hope it wouldn't backfire on him.

xxXXxx

"You did what!?"

Nadir, flabbergasted and stunned, stared at his friend incredulously. Yet, Erik didn't seem fazed by his sudden outburst as he calmly laced his fingers together. If anything, he was very pleased with himself.

"You cannot seriously expect me to scrap Don Juan Triumphant completely. Erik! We were already in the process of promoting it so when you finished there was enough hype for it. And now you're telling me that Don Juan is out and this—"

"The Haunted Artist," Erik supplied.

"—new project is in?" Nadir went on without skipping a beat. "This is insane Erik! You're already behind schedule as it is and you're starting a brand new opera?! We can't afford this! You can't afford this!"

"The way I see it Nadir—yes, I can." Erik grinned. "You know as well as I do that people will come to my operas regardless when they are performed. It doesn't matter the time schedule or what advertisers get pissy about the changes. This is my world, my music. And if you looked at it… you will see this is ten times better than anything I have ever written."

Reluctantly, Nadir picked up the partial score and thumbed through the notes, reading quietly. The masked composer was right. This was better, which the Iranian had to begrudgingly admit.

When Erik saw the change in his friend's features, he knew he had him there. This was the superior opera and there was nothing Nadir could do to persuade him to return to Don Juan. This will be the opera they will perform and Erik had the final say in this matter no matter what.

"Fine," Nadir sighed. "This is really good. You know it."

"I'm sensing a 'but' somewhere Nadir. I'm not sure if I like that," Erik said testily. He was in a good mood and if his friend and partner are going to put him in a bad mood… Well, there will be certainly words.

"I was just going to say that while this new opera is probably one of the best I have seen from you… I can't help but wonder what your angle is. I mean, lately, you haven't been yourself and then you decided to start this investigation with one of our singers… Erik, what is going on with you?"

"Nothing Nadir. You're making something out of nothing."

"I don't know about that. I think there is something to it. And this confirms it." Setting the papers down on his desk, the Iranian gazed at him with concern. "Erik, you know me. There is no judging on my part. I'm looking at this and I'm wondering if all of this is somehow connected."

"What do you mean?" Erik was holding the armrest of his chair, his nails squeezing the hard plastic.

"A year ago you thought you were being haunted and you wanted to know how to get in communications. Then you tried jumping off your balcony and then you went on and on about this mysterious brunette who saved you and this whole murder cold case that you're suddenly on a mission to solve. And then you hand me this opera about a man being haunted by a ghost…"

"Okay. If you want to me admit if this inspired the work, then yes it did. To a point."

"I think this goes beyond mere inspiration Erik. I think there might be some truth to this. I mean look right here: the ghost was murdered and she has no memory of it, and the artist and his wife happen to live in the same apartment. And it turns out the ghost was once a model for the artist years before and he paints her again to make her come alive, albeit briefly, so they can be together."

"You're off your rocker Khan. Look. This is going to be the new show we're doing and that's it. If you don't like it, then you know where the door is. And I assure you, I may not welcome you back this time."

"For the love of Allah—Erik! I'm not going to quit and you're not going to fire me so drop the scare tactics."

"Don't test me. I will fire you," Erik growled.

Unperturbed, Nadir rolled his eyes. "We've been friends for how long? I think in all these years I know who you are, and frankly, this thing is unsettling. Why won't you tell me the truth? What is it that you're hiding?"

Erik stood up. "I'll have the rest done within the week. Then we'll begin auditions."

"Erik." The composer froze at the door at his oldest friend's plea. For a split second, Erik wondered if he should tell Nadir the truth. The real truth. He could almost hear Christine's voice telling him he should talk to Nadir. He could trust him to not judge him or call the hospital.

But that wasn't going to be today.

Nadir watched the door closed and sighed. It was times like this that he wished he could wash his hands from all this foolishness. But deep down he knew he could never walk away from this theater or his pig-headed friend.

"Allah give me strength," he whispered.

xxXXxx

He was playing nonstop. Ever since he came back from the opera house, Erik was in a mood and Christine instantly knew there must have been a problem with Nadir. He barely spoke two words to her and headed straight to the piano and began working on his new opera.

She left him be for several hours, thinking whatever it was, Erik would eventually get it out of his system. It was getting late and he hadn't stopped, not even for dinner.

She knew he had to be getting hungry, but he was too stubborn to slow down or even think about a break. So Christine had no choice but to capture his attention anyway possible.

"What the Hell Christine?!" Erik stared at her in disbelief as she managed to grab the entire score from the piano. Holding it behind her, she grinned as she rocked on her heels.

"You need to take a break Erik. Eat something and then you can go back to work if you wish."

"I will as soon as I'm finished, which you're delaying."

She shook her head. "Do you think I was born yesterday? You need to eat now. Or have you forgotten that you're human and not some kind of musical machine?"

"How can I forget?" he murmured. "Hand it over."

"Not until you go into kitchen and fix something."

"Christine…"

"You heard me. Go on."

Eye twitching, Erik let out a curse as he did as she told him. "I don't think Casper was ever bossy like you are."

"Ouch. That hurts my feelings." She smirked. "You know I'm right. You can't run yourself down, not even for the sake of music."

"Somehow I get the feeling that someone did this to you and you're returning the favor."

She laughed. "Well, it's good to have someone there to remind you of the bare necessities now and then."

"Now that's not fair. I can't return the favor for you."

"No but I'm sure it won't stop you from thinking of something else," Christine teased.

"Well, I am a genius," Erik reminded her with a smile tugging at his lips.

While Erik busied himself in the kitchen, Christine put the score back in its rightful place for him to continue once he finished eating. She looked at the notes and hummed the melody to herself. It was truly a masterpiece…

"Once I'm done here… do you want to sing it?" he asked her suddenly.

Christine sharply looked in his direction. "What?"

"My opera," he answered. "It would be nice to hear some of it sung back. It'll help if I need to make any changes. And… I get to hear you sing again."

If she could blush her cheeks would have been on fire. As it were, Christine could almost feel the burning sensation as she tore her gaze away from him and back to the score. She would love nothing more than to sing his new score before anyone else had the chance, but…

Tenderly touching the paper, Christine knew if she sung his music now then she would only put herself in another funk knowing this part would never be hers. Yet, how could she resist such an offer when Erik Trussler had asked in the first place?

Whatever she was going to say, Christine didn't have the chance when someone began knocking on the door.

They both looked at the other wondering who in the world would be here at this late hour when the knocking turned urgent. Erik stopped what he was doing and made his way over to the front door not before slipping his mask back on.

"Nadir, if it's you, I told you I—" His voice trailed off as soon as saw who it was standing in the hallway. No… There was no way. Not after all this time…

"Hello Erik." Elena smiled softly. "It's been a while."

Well, wasn't that the understatement of the year.

TBC…