Christine shifted restlessly in bed, trying in vain to find a position comfortable enough to allow her to drift off to sleep. Alas, though, the bed which had serviced her faultlessly throughout the years she had inhabited the apartment suddenly seemed lumpy and misshapen. By the time she found herself wrapped in an impenetrable cocoon of comforter and sheets, she finally acceded that perhaps it was her current state of mind, not the bed, which was keeping her from sleep. Even the soft, sweet crooning of the violin that drifted through the apartment was not enough to soothe her distressed mind. She therefore resolved to track down the creator of such beautiful sounds, in the hope that he would have more luck. Provided, of course, she could extract herself from the chaotic tangle of bedclothes and limbs she had somehow formed.

Eventually, with the help of her dancer's flexibility and several vicious, impressively creative curses aimed at the comforter, she managed to regain her freedom. Reaching out to pick up the cat that was curled as far away from her as the bed would allow, clearly displeased with the restless shifting she had been forced to endure, Christine gently gathered Ayesha into her arms and crept silently to the library. She halted in the doorway and studied the scene before her with soft, sapphire eyes.

Erik had his eyes closed and his head bent over a violin as he coaxed a beautiful melody out of the instrument with expert fingers. The candles that he had lit in lieu of turning on the overhead light cast flickering glows that danced over his pale skin and the glossy black silk of his hair. No playful dance of light and shadow was reflected by the matte-black finish of his mask, however, and Christine found her eyes drawn to it by the contrast. The corners of her mouth twisted downwards as she speculated on what secrets lay behind the hard leather covering, and whether he would ever trust her enough to show her.

Pools of liquid gold suddenly interrupted the black expanse of Erik's face as he opened his eyes, and the peaceful melody he had been weaving came to an abrupt halt when he finally noticed his audience.

"Did I wake you, mon ange? I'm sorry. Usually you can sleep through anything. Had I known you-"

Christine stepped swiftly towards him and silenced his apology with a kiss. Pulling back, she could not help but smile at the slightly dazed expression on his face.

"You didn't wake me, V. I just couldn't sleep."

Erik set his violin carefully back into its case before settling into the armchair and holding his arms out hopefully. Christine responded immediately, curling up on his lap with Ayesha still cradled in her arms.

"What's the matter?" Erik ran soothing fingers through her tousled gold hair. "Are you nervous about the performance tomorrow?"

Christine shook her head slightly and nuzzled even further into Erik's arms. "No, m'not nervous. I've never really had an issue with stage fright. Daddy says it's because I'm too cocky to be worried about screwing up." The warmth in her voice as she relayed this observation told Erik that the man had obviously just been teasing her.

"If not nerves, then what is bothering you?"

"It's nothing, really. Just a stupid… Nevermind. Don't worry about it."

"Christine," Erik coaxed, using the full force of his otherworldly voice to persuade her.

"I'm sad," she admitted with a sigh, helpless to resist the midnight silk of his voice. "And frustrated. I know I acted like I was fine dancing in Carmen, but this whole time I guess I've secretly been holding out hope that Carlotta would… I don't know, suddenly win the lottery and move to Hawaii? Or lose her voice in some kind of freak accident or something."

Erik stayed silent for a moment, a calculating gleam passing through his eyes that Christine failed to notice, her face being buried in his shoulder. "There's still time, ange. No need to give up hope just yet. Stranger things have happened," he murmured, staring at the girl and cat cradled in his arms as if he could not quite believe they were real.

Christine snorted derisively, though she felt so contented curled up in Erik's lap that the sound came out with less venom than she had intended. "Opening night is tomorrow, V. Unless Carlotta suddenly contracts some kind of terrible illness, it's looking pretty hopeless."

Erik merely tightened his hold on her and gave an enigmatic smile. "You never know…"

ECECECECECECECECECECECECECEC

"She what?"

Christine's stunned exclamation echoed sharply through the apartment, causing Erik to glance up from the song he had been composing.

"But I just saw her a few hours ago! She was perfectly fine during class, and I-" There was a pause as she listened to whoever was on the other end of the phone. "Of… Of course. When do you need me to—Now? Alright. I'll be there in fifteen minutes. See you then."

Several moments of silence preceded the sounds of her rushing towards the library.

"What was that about?" Erik asked as the flustered girl burst in on him.

"That was Dr. Woods calling. Apparently Carlotta's come down with some kind of stomach virus or food poisoning or plague or something. They're taking her to the hospital right now, and they need me to head down to the school so they can adjust all her costumes to fit me."

"That's wonderful, ange!" Erik exclaimed jovially, though his smile quickly faded to a frown as he studied Christine's concerned expression. "Isn't it?"

"Well, yeah, of course it is! But it's also really freaky, isn't it? I mean, just last night I was wishing she'd get too sick to perform today, and now suddenly she's being rushed to the hospital." Christine rang her hands together nervously. "I know it's silly, but it feels like I put some kind of voodoo curse on her or something! And how awful would it make me to get all excited over someone else's misfortune, anyway?"

Erik, who had previously been tensed with worry, relaxed and gave the distressed girl a gentle smile. "You have every right to be excited over the opportunity you have been presented with. You had nothing to do with Carlotta's illness, and thus there is absolutely no cause to feel guilt over it. Besides, as cruel as that wretched harpy is to you on a daily basis, I am surprised you can find it within your heart to feel any sort of remorse or compassion for her. Your kindness is rather staggering sometimes, you know."

Christine blushed and ducked her head. "I wouldn't go so far as to say that. Besides, it's actually my absence of compassion that's worrying me. I'm feeling guilty for not feeling guilty, if that makes any sense."

"Not in the slightest. But then, you have always been rather unfathomable to me."

Christine laughed and stuck her tongue out at him. "It's all part of my charm, you see. But oh! We need to leave now or they'll never finish the alterations in time for the show!" she called suddenly, turning and rushing out of the library towards the door.

Erik followed her at a slightly more sedate pace. "Ange, you've forgotten your shoes again," he observed patiently.

"I left my pointe shoes in my locker in the studio," she replied absently, grabbing her keys and opening the door.

"I wasn't talking about your pointe shoes. Look at your feet."

Christine glanced down to see that she was wearing nothing but a pair of blue fuzzy socks. "Ah, damn! It's always something…" she muttered. "Hurry up, then!" she called to her clearly amused bodyguard, hopping out the door as she struggled to slip a pair of tennis shoes on.

Erik buried a laugh at her expense and followed her obediently.