Erik slowly grasped a sheet of music that had slipped to the floor. It was from his opera Don Juan. He resisted the urge to crumple it up in his fist. Instead he gently placed it back in its place. A dark smile crossed his lips as he spotted a lacey handkerchief that Christine had accidentally left. He carefully picked it up and breathed in her scent. How he missed her. Slowly he let the handkerchief fall to the floor. He couldn't think of her anymore. He couldn't let her distract him from his task ahead. In the end he would have her. The world would be forced to repay him for the injustice he was dealt. He would forget about her for now, if he could.

Only four days later, Erik poured a glass of wine and looked on with anticipation as Nadir took his first sip. "You were not here at my home with this shipment was delivered. You will not be disappointed either, I can tell you that."

"I hope not." Nadir said sarcastically. Truthfully he was glad he was back in Erik's good graces. He had been invited back as if nothing had happened between them.

"I knew you'd enjoy that one." Erik said noting the look of satisfaction on his friend's face.

"I have not tasted this wine since I left from Persia. This is perfection in liquid form." Nadir smiled warmly, holding his glass of wine like it was a treasure.

"If you think that, than you've never tried my Russian tea."

"Nor do I want to from what you've described that goes into it." Nadir replied with a grimace. Erik smirked at the comment.

"I never thought that a Persian's stomach couldn't take Russian tea." Erik shook his head. Nadir ignored him and took another sip of the wine. Erik studied him for a moment before speaking again.

"Sit down, Dragoda, you're making me nervous and that's not an easy thing to do."

"I would be happy to oblige you. But this would be better if shared with a friend." Nadir said holding up the glass of wine.

"I will have nothing tonight. Sit." He ordered. He watched as Nadir walked around to the settee.

"What is this?" Nadir asked holding up the front page from an old issue of one of Paris's most prominent gossip papers.

"It's a paper Dragoda." Erik replied sulkily looking up from his place in front of the mantle he had been leaning on.

"I mean the headline, Erik."

"Death at the Paris Opera House. Well they certainly did sugar coat it now didn't they?" He laughed softly. "Its more like incompetent Opera House worker finally goes to see his maker."

"This is no laughing matter! Do you realize they will search for the killer?"

"I take everything into consideration. You know better than anyone that I carefully plan everything I do."

"Except with matters of the heart."

"If you are referring to the dinner you brought me, than yes."

"I don't mean ingestion! Come now Erik this is very serious!" Nadir said, slowly placing the paper back on an ornate table.

"I know very well that it is. It has been two weeks since that old man's death and certainly it will quiet down. The ballet brats will gossip even more about me and that is what I wish. Fear will circulate and tension will build making the managers willing to do anything I ask."

"That is what I am afraid of."

"You are afraid of too much, even shadows frighten you." Erik replied gruffly gazing at a lovely rose that was flourishing quite well in a vase by the mantle.

"Please don't murder anyone else. Do you swear?"

"You know very well that I will not swear to anything that I do not agree with. Besides if someone else dies here it will not be anyone that you know." Erik smiled darkly.

"I cannot get through to you the seriousness of playing this game!" Nadir shook his head and resigned himself to sitting on the settee.

"Is that what you think I think this whole thing is? A game? Well you are once again seriously mistaken, Dragoda." Erik's eye glowed like miniature suns blazing in the sky.

"And what else was I mistaken on?"

"Everything about me. You see I will always be one step ahead of you in this life."

"Allah says there are many lives."

"Well my God says there is only one. And as a matter of fact I don't believe in any God anymore. So don't try to press your Persian faith on me, Nadir."

"I wouldn't dream of doing that, Erik." Nadir smiled good-naturedly.

"You seem to be faring well far from your native land." Erik commented.

"As do you."

"What is that supposed to mean? Hell isn't that far from being my home if that's what you meant by that comment."

"You haven't found your true place in this world yet, Erik."

"Yes I have." Erik smiled distantly. He gazed back at the rose. "But she does not want me. That is good, because it causes me to be weak, and that I do not wish. I resolved not long ago that I would never have feelings for this creature again. I wonder if I shall have the strength to do it, but it must be done. She has sinned against me." Erik said softly. Nadir watched his friend's face darken.

"I still wish your future well."

"You will have many wives in your heaven, why wish my future well?"

"Because you need it, my friend." Nadir replied with a pitying look.

A single blood red rose was lying alone in the middle of the stage. Meg bent to pick it up, marveling at its color. Christine was not listening. Her eyes roamed the catwalk above them and the shadows that surrounded it. She had not seen Erik for almost a month. She had not heard his voice speaking to her. Nor had she felt his warm breath against her cheek as he whispered to her things she had never known before. The world had become more open to her, and with that came frightening freedom and ideas of the life ahead of her. The rose had reminded her of him. She had not seen him since the encounter in the dark hall on her way to her dressing room. She shivered at the memory.

"Christine..." Meg's voice met her ears. She quickly turned, feeling rather guilty about her silence.

"I'm listening." She lied.

"Well then, will you answer my question?" Meg smiled in a vixen way as if she knew what her friend was thinking about. Christine sighed softly.

"I wasn't listening then."

"I thought so. Do you have your head in the clouds Christine Daae?" Meg asked imitating her strict mother.

"As always. Papa passed on being a dreamer to me, a trait I proudly show off as much as possible." Christine smiled.

"I was asking you if you could guess which of the ballet girl's left this rose on the stage."

"Hmm....Sorelli?"

"Like she would get one!" Meg giggled.

"Let me see it then." Christine shook her head in amusement at her friend's laughter. Meg handed over the rose. She turned it over and over in her palm savoring the silky feeling of the petals. They almost felt like the material that Erik's opera cloak was made from. Silk most likely.

"Well?" Meg asked breaking off Christine's thoughts.

"Jammes?"

"That's what I think! Good girl! You have been paying attention!"

"To what, pray tell?"

"Well...haven't you noticed the handsome young man who inherited all of his grandfather's money? He has been staying after performances to talk to her! She is barely fifteen and she already has a suitor!"

"She deserves a nice quiet man. One who will listen to her chattering and always love her for who she is." Christine commented softly gazing down at the rose.

"You're quite sentimental about this." Meg said slowly gazing up at her friend. "Is something bothering you? You've seemed so pale and withdrawn over the past weeks. You don't even go out with us shopping for hair ribbons and new shoes!"

"You always talk about my coloring."

"Don't get off the subject, Christine." Meg said firmly planting her hands on her hips. "Are you engaged?"

"Meg Giry! What ever gave you that idea?"

"Well plenty of things! The Vicomte de Chagny has been here for every single one of your performances even though you keep getting smaller roles in each one."

"That doesn't count, he was already coming to everyone of my performances."

"He does adore you."

"And I him." Christine responded softly.

"So that is it! You're engaged!" Meg jumped up and clasped her friend's hand. "I knew it!"

"Meg! Please! Don't say such things! We are not engaged. Don't go spreading things around. You don't know all that is going on."

"Fine!" Meg held up her hands in defense. "I shan't say a word!" A mysterious twinkle appeared in her eyes.

"You are a silly girl." Christine shook her head with a smile.

"I've been called much worse." Meg grinned.

"That you have, and by your own mother."

"It's a secret talent."

"Oh! Meg come we have to hurry back and change for the dinner they are having tonight!"

"Oh gracious! You're right!" Meg said grabbing her hand and pulling her off the stage. The rose fell from Christine's hand in their haste and it fell to the stage floor. They did not see a figure move from the shadows towards the delicate rose. The shadowy figure cradled the rose gently in his hand, breathing in the lingering perfume from the woman who had held it only moments before.

A/N: Tell me what you think! Thanks to all those who have reviewed! You guys are great!!!