Two whole months.

(SHOCK)

Anyway, three chapters to go, which is quite good. Hopefully, this will be done by the time my semester is finished, but exams are bound to keep me busy.

X X X

Chapter XXXVII

X X X X X

For a moment, Christine was afraid, stunned, even, but then she remembered that Erik had no means of knowing what her new phone number was. Fortunately, she was right this time. The number of the caller was clearly displayed on the small screen of the phone and she was familiar with the person.

"Christine, it's me." The soothing but somehow hushed voice of her foreign friend spoke without a pretext once she pressed the yes button. "Where are you?"

"Nadir!" It was as if a ton of rocks had fallen off her heart. She was afraid that the Iranian hadn't received her invitation or had decided against it. She thought it only fair to invite him to the concert when he was a friend of Erik's – or, at least, the closest thing to a friend Erik might claim to have. Besides, as the star of the show, she was entitled to a few free tickets. Hopefully, though, Erik wouldn't mind too much if he saw the self-proclaimed daroga here. "You're here, then? You got the ticket?"

"Yes, and we are fortunate in that." Nadir said, sounding almost tired. He, too, was wary of what might happen if Erik were to find out of his presence. Unlike Christine, he was completely certain that the croaking incident of Signora Giudicelli had been a prank courtesy of his old friend, who was by now no doubt congratulating himself on his own wit and intelligence. And from somewhere nearby, too. "I take it you've already noticed that my guess a few weeks ago was correct."

So it is him… Christine felt strangely excited at that prospect, though it wasn't necessarily a good kind of excitement. It was more like the adrenaline rush before proceeding to jump out of an airplane… with a parachute, hopefully. Hopefully. "Do you have any idea where he is?"

"A thousand, one unlikelier than the other." Nadir said easily, tiredly.

"Will he… do you think that he would…?"

"I'm certain that Erik is proud enough not to damage anything he has helped create without a good reason, which applies to your performance as well. I would worry after you finish singing."

"You do know that there is a sociable after the concert, don't you?" Christine asked slowly. She personally supposed that Erik would likely wait until after the concert itself before taking any decisive action. After all, it was best to inflict damage there, before the crowds.

"That is what I'm afraid of. I'll try to get closer to you then and we can talk. For now, break a leg, otherwise Erik might do that to some others."

"Yes… thank you."

"Whatever else might be the truth, remember that he loves you. I don't claim to understand him, but if you play on that card, it seems he would forgive you anything."

"I hardly want to blackmail him, Nadir. I…" She was initially against saying such things, because she intended to say it to Erik first, but in this case, she had to practice saying it when not under the scorching fires of his eyes. "I love him as well."

"Mademoiselle, you are a remarkable person for being able to do so. However, I believe the hardest part will be convincing him of the matter."

X X X X X

Many things happened during the pause, most of which dealt with music or the like. Since Carlotta clearly wouldn't be performing for the rest of the night, the management quickly consulted the conductor for what they might have performed in place of her arias. By the time Christine entered the main hall again, people were running around with stacks of sheet music for the various players in need of them and the conductor quickly grabbed the star of the show to hastily ask her if she had any other arias in her current repertoire that matched that of the opera.

The opera house didn't have Un ballo in maschera in their current repertoire, but they had Figaro, fortunately, and so the second aria of Susanna was fetched from the music archives in what could be considered the quickest swap of repertoire on the planet. The person responsible for bringing the sheet music was clearly breaking some record in running.

As for the other songs, they quickly fetched the ending chorus from the Magic Flute (which was more sheets of music than Christine could even see) – the chorus wasn't entirely pleased with having to sing a different piece than planned, more specifically, more things than planed, but they obliged under several threats of a lower salary.

The final change in songs was pure luck – among the soon-to-be-premiered productions, Die Fledermaus was featured, so they had the sheet music for the one song from the operetta Christine had performed quite a long time ago, but still remembered the words of. And, though Christine tried to protest, they pawned the aria O patria mia from Aida Carlotta was supposed to sing off on her, the conductor handing her the sheet music with an almost unbalanced look in his eyes. This was the last chance they had to set things right.

In the end, it ended much more fortunately than they supposed. The chorus did well; Christine's duet with Piangi proceeded without any interruptions (save for when the tenor proceeded to do some flowery cadenzas at places they had agreed about). The other artists also did their part quite well. Christine sang her songs, including Mein Herr Marquis, to thunderous applause.

It was the Aida aria that worried her greatly. She felt like a schoolgirl that had been sent to the school stage to announce to a rowdy crowd that the spectacle they had paid for was not going to be performed after all.

Aida was a notoriously famous and terribly difficult opera, the lead part especially tricky, and those who didn't have what it took to sing it were usually booed off the stage before they sang two phrases. Moreover, it was a great paradox that a Nubian slave would be sung by a girl with milky white skin, though a tan was the least of her problems.

The moment she opened her mouth to sing, she thought that it would be no good. But as she began glancing into the sheet music again, before her voice could be heard, she thought she heard the aria in the back of her consciousness, a soft song, a mourning song, sung with all the pain and sadness of the world.

She didn't even realize that she had begun to sing it along with the voice, mirroring its beauty the best she could, trying to understand the meaning behind the Italian words through the beautiful music. If she knew the libretto, she would have hardly needed the sheet music.

O my country, never more will I see you!

Never more, never more will I see you!

O blue skies, o sweet native breezes

where the morning of my life shone peacefully

The orchestra had almost stopped playing at that point. The audience was so silent that even a breath would have echoed loudly through the auditorium. And when the aria ended on a high note, the silence stretched on, and Christine was momentarily afraid, because the voice in her mind had stopped.

She didn't even know if it had been Erik helping her thus or if it was simply her own imagination.

She had no idea that, not too far away from her, Erik was crying.

It was certainly not a habit of his to weep, but the pure joy of the knowing that it was Christine who had created such beauty was breathtaking. And the crowd began to roar with applause, forgetting quickly the sadness that the aria had brought, celebrating something they had no true concept of.

Christine bowed, timidly, almost, as if she couldn't believe that she had actually caused that. And what was most wonderful was to see that her eyes were once more searching for him. Without removing his mask, Erik wiped his eyes.

Two more arias, courtesy of Christine, and the crowd couldn't even control its applause any longer. And when the final note of the final song faded away into nothingness, the young soprano was practically showered with flowers. She was simply bowing modestly, as if unsure what to do.

When the curtain fell, her colleagues rushed out to congratulate her and shower her with questions.

Once the auditorium was empty, stagehands hurriedly ushered the guests to another large hall that had been decorated specifically for the purpose of this sociable, this ball-like celebration that was to take place late into the night.

Erik was actually somewhat nervous, but only momentarily. No one knew his face and he didn't speak to anyone, so no one knew his voice. But still, he felt somewhat exposed, even in the perfection of his disguise.

He was dully aware of the daroga´s presence and kept out of his way, for the time being. He had no wish to speak with Nadir now.

The performers entered as well, now in clean, fresh clothes and masked themselves, though everyone knew them when they arrived, as it was announced by the eager management. Only Carlotta was missing – Piangi had deigned it important enough to come, despite his lover's protests.

It was when Christine entered that the hustle and bustle of the crowd stopped in one moment of thunderous applause. The soprano modestly thanked everyone, but for once, Erik didn't join in the clapping. Even in the costume, Christine looked like a complete angel.

Her hair was pinned up this time, which was a bit unusual for her, but combined with the sky blue dress and jewels of small pearls she was wearing, she was a vision of purity and beauty. When the first crowd of men rushed forward to beg her for a dance, Erik felt the urge to remind them that a lasso was not merely a tool for taming animals in bad American movies.

Surprisingly, the boy was nowhere to be seen and Christine didn't appear to be waiting for him or for anyone to be her escort. Her eyes found the daroga and she momentarily excused herself from her admirers to talk to him.

It was very easy to guess what they were speaking off and Erik found himself mildly irritated by the presence of the daroga. Of course the poor fool had no chance of keeping him from Christine! But what did they hope to accomplish? Were they teaming up on him? Was this some kind of foul plot?

But when Christine turned back to the crowds, he dispersed such thoughts. Christine simply wasn't capable of such thoughts. She was nothing less than the perfect innocent.

Amidst the general dancing that started, she remained one of the few who danced very little and paid even less attention to most of her companions. It was only natural, of course, though Erik felt a kind of pride at knowing that she was searching for him and only for him.

In the midst of the crowds, it was ironic that unless he spoke or sang, no one noticed him at all. This was certainly a first.

Christine was nervous, though she didn't show it much. She wondered where Erik was, because she knew he was there – she constantly had the feeling of being watched, though not in a displeased manner this time.

Was that good? Did it mean he would speak to her? She didn't know.

But it was getting tiresome, whooshing away all the men who wanted to speak with her and dance with her, along with all the women who wanted to chatter away about pleasant niceties, which were of no consequence to her, only for the purpose of befriending her.

All of these guests were the elite, though, so she couldn't simply brush them away.

"Gentlemen, may I cut in?" a different, sharp voice literally cut through the conversation the crowd around her led amongst itself. Christine would have said something, but caught herself staring a moment later.

It was Erik; yet it wasn't. It was undoubtedly Erik's cat-like eyes and ethereal voice, but it couldn't actually be him. He was once more dressed in all black, but only a white half-mask, pearl-like and flawless, covered part of his face… the rest was as natural and flawless as that of a normal man's, so she was certain it couldn't be him. It had to be some illusion, without a doubt.

But then, Erik presented her with a single blood-red rose, wrapped neatly in a satin bow of pitch-black. Christine took his hand without even realizing it and allowed herself to be led away from the generally stunned and whispering crowd that had gathered around her. Only once the music resumed – one of the more known waltzes – did she regain her voice.

"Erik?"

She could sense the amusement in his voice. "Yes?"

"Is this real?" she asked, though a more accurate question would have been if she hadn't been drugged somewhere along the line.

"This is a masked ball, my dear. Of course you shouldn't believe your eyes too much."

"Are you here to punish me?" Her voice wavered a bit, even though she had thought she could handle it.

Erik seemed to be considering it for a moment, before replying with a resolute no. "Do you view my saying that I will worship you until the end of time and beyond as punishment?" He had intended to be the harsh angel of music, but after her performance… he couldn't. it was impossible to punish her for such beauty.

And, for the first time in months, uncertainly, Christine tried to smile. she didn't know what had happened or what was to happen, but she had the courage, now, at last, and she had better make use of it before it would evaporate.

"I wish you would do things simply at times and just tell me that you love me, so that I could reply the same."